The battles now developed into a sort of siege, and for long drawn-out months the British and German armies faced each other in the trenches. By this time the Indian contingent had arrived and their chaplains with them.
Then we had the strangest spectacle of the war—Roman Catholics, Protestants, Hindus, Mohammedans, in all speaking fifteen different languages, but fighting side by side in a common cause. The fact that, notwithstanding the proclamation by the Sultan of a Holy War, our Indian Mohammedan soldiers stood firm by Old England, was a sign that no longer could Constantinople be reckoned as the headquarters of Mohammedanism. The Sheik-ul-Islam might sound forth his proclamation in great state, but the princes and soldiers of India, Egypt, and the Sudan heeded not. They knew that under the British flag they had religious liberty, and they were loyal to the core.
It was just before the battle of Ypres commenced that Lord Roberts paid his visit to France. He was over eighty years of age, and it was dangerous in the extreme for him to attempt such a journey at his time of life. But he was most wishful to review his much-loved Indian troops, and they in their turn were anxious to see their "Father," whom they all revered. When the risks at his age were pointed out to him, he replied, "We must do what we consider to be our duty; then we are in God's hands."
It was bitter weather, but he reviewed the Indian troops, caught cold, and died on Saturday, November 14, 1914.
He was the darling of the British Army. When the soldiers knew that "Our Bobs" was coming to their relief in South Africa, their delight was unbounded. They had absolute confidence in him; they would follow him anywhere. And something more—they knew that when they read their Bibles that was what Lord Roberts did—was there not a message from him within the cover?—and when they knelt to pray they knew that that also was what Lord Roberts did. His influence was widespread and was all for good in the Army.
In the eloquent tribute which Earl Curzon paid in the House of Lords to the memory of Earl Roberts, he quoted a letter received from him only a fortnight before.
"We have had family prayers for fifty-five years. Our chief reason is that they bring the household together in a way that nothing else can. It ensures servants and others who may be in the house joining in prayers which, for one reason or other, they may have omitted saying by themselves. Since the war began we usually read a prayer like the enclosed, and when anything important has occurred I tell those present about it. In this way I have found that the servants are taking a great interest in what is going on in France. We have never given any order about prayers. Attendance is quite optional, but, as a rule, all the servants, men and women, come when they hear the bell."
"The man who penned these words," said Lord Curzon, "even to a friend, was not only a great soldier, a patriot, and a statesman; he was also a humble-minded and devout Christian, whose name deserves to live, and will live for ever in the memory of the nation whom he served with such surpassing fidelity to the last hour of a long and glorious life."
The Army bade farewell to the body of the great field-marshal at St. Omer, then the headquarters of the British Expeditionary Force. The route to the Mairie was lined by British and French troops. The coffin, draped with the Union Jack, was placed upon the gun-carriage by eight non-commissioned officers selected from regiments of which he had been colonel. All the British and French courage was represented in the procession. The Prince of Wales represented the King. The Indian chiefs who honoured and loved him were there.
At the service in the Mairie which followed, the Rev. F.I. Anderson, assisted by the Rev. C. Marshall and the Rev. A. Helps, officiated. The service, as was fitting, was very simple. The music was led by a choir of soldiers, accompanied by a harmonium, and the hymns sung were "Now the labourer's task is o'er," and "O God, our help in ages past."