‘When you have travelled the Seven Seas; when you have walked in the footsteps of frontiersmen, seen the Valhalla of heroes and the sleeping-place of martyrs, watched tribes and nations of all creeds and colours saluting the British officer and the British flag, it is then you feel:
There is a voice divine,
And a mission that is high.
‘Gentlemen, here is the proof of our liberty and wisdom. At Gallipoli are the graves of free Colonists with no ties to this country except the ties of blood. Their country is a labour country. Imperialism is banned. It is sometimes termed a democracy gone mad. Yet when Germany threw down the gauntlet these freemen came forth to help the Old Land. They died like Trojans. They died for LOVE. They died that we might live. And their brothers to-day are dying in France. Side by side are those wonderful Canadians, glorious Newfoundlanders, gallant South Africans, brave Indians—indeed, all nations under the British flag. They have not rendered lip-service. They have given the flower of their land that this Old Country, the mother of Democracy, the breeder of nations, and fount of tolerance, shall keep her lamps burning brightly and repel the hordes who would destroy the Crucifix and deify the sword. You can understand this devotion only by a study of the past.
‘When you have mastered military history, you will quickly grasp the value of esprit de corps. You will know why the Guards would scorn to be called Highlanders; why the Highlanders would shoot you if you put them into the Guards; why the K.R.R.’s want to beat the Rifle Brigade, and why the Rifle Brigade believe they are better than the K.R.R.’s; why Dragoons think themselves superior to Hussars, and why Hussars would sicken if you named them Dragoons; why the R.H.A. believe that the R.F.A. are not fit to lick their boots, and vice versâ. Unimportant as these things may seem to the uninitiated, they are really the basis of good work and true fellowship. This spirit is the same as the spirit of the public schools. You will not find this spirit in Germany. Force is the gospel of Germany, even in school and in sport. Force never made a gentleman or a great nation. Let me tell you a story. A broad-minded German was travelling past the playing-fields of Eton before the war. He saw the boys playing Rugger, Soccer, &c., and immediately ordered his car to stop. He sat for quite a long time looking at the clean, bonny British boys playing their games. Then he jumped up, took off his hat, and shouted, “Ah, mine friends, I would lub to be one Breetish boy!”
‘That is a very great tribute from an enemy. To you we hand the guardianship of that spirit. You must believe that to “play up, and play the game,” is the noblest thing in life. You must live not for self, but for country. Your wealth, your gifts, your pleasures, even your loved ones, must be surrendered at the call of duty. Duty is the keystone of patriotism. And patriotism has made us what we are. The defects of this system are outweighed by its virtues. “The word of an Englishman” is all they ask of a Britisher in the Argentine. But from a Hun they demand an agreement, stamped, sealed, dated, and witnessed. What finer tribute can you have to the spirit of our race?
‘An army, gentlemen, without a soul is a vile and cruel instrument. It will commit excesses. It will rape, plunder, and demoralise. It will stink in history, like the armies of Attila, Cortes, and the Kaiser. We must avoid that. We cannot do so unless you leave this school with a full knowledge of history, an appreciation of esprit de corps, a love of the truth, and an adherence to the principles of justice. You must all be Maudes and not Bernhardis; quit ye like men; do harm to no child, no woman; so conduct yourselves that when you leave France or Belgium the populace will line the route, strewing your path with roses, and shedding tears for the dead who are gone and the living heroes who are returning home.
‘It may be, of course, that many of you will not return, that you may have to suffer torture at the hands of your enemy. Let death have no terrors, for you shall pass to the Valhalla of heroes. Your name shall be inscribed in the page of glory, and your memory shall shine like the sun.
‘Gentlemen, words fail me. Emotion is knocking at my heart. But I feel that I have shown you the soul of the British Army. Guard it! Cherish it! Fight for it! And when this bloody war is over, the world will take you into its arms, and God will proclaim, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”’
A strange silence fell over the room as the lecturer finished. The spell had not yet passed. Men had been transported from the sordid to the higher things. But when the captain lifted his stick and gloves to go, we burst into a wild hurrah.