hard to see that peace can be more than a state of neutrality enforced
by poverty and exhaustion. To make it abiding will need something more
than the skill and cunning of diplomats, it will require the consent
of the people themselves, and this they will give when they have
knowledge, and not before.
Educate! Use all the modern developments of our civilisation to that
end. Let every child in Europe be taught to read and be supplied with
books; let every new railway line be hailed as an ambassador of peace.
Let interchange of visits be arranged between the workers of all
countries, so that they may learn that antagonisms belong to their
rulers and not to them.[2] It would be a fine thing to have a panacea
that acted as quickly as quack medicines claim to act, but we all know
that such cures do not exist. You cannot accomplish in a few months the
work that thousands of years have left unfinished. After all that has
been said, let us remember that war has been allowed to be the rule of
life for countless generations. We in England have hardly suffered,
the United States have kept free from actual invasion, but nearly all
the other great Powers have known its horrors within the comparatively
brief period of our lifetime.
On the Continent, war is one of the incidents of normal life. Men
are trained to take part in it as a completion of their education,
women are encouraged to applaud it as the source of all honours and
distinction. England and America, the two least threatened countries,
would hardly appear in a good light as peace propagandists on the
Continent, for war is received in a certain false perspective there.
Thousands glory in the thoughts of a campaign, proud to have taken part
in one as our grandfathers were to empty two or three bottles at a
sitting. This false perspective is the greatest danger we have to face
in educating the people: it must be destroyed before war will be seen
as the thing it is.
Human nature being hard to move, the work must progress slowly, but
it is not the less worth undertaking on that account. Sane peace
propaganda, accompanied by encouragement of physical fitness and
explanation of the significance of life, need offend none, and will
benefit all.
The real facts of war must be within reach of everybody, the camera
should preserve the records of trench, battlefield, and sacked town.
Every city should engrave its list of dead where all may read, and in
the cities that have suffered from invasion the full details of the
horror should be preserved. The taxation that will grip Europe for many
a year to come should always be associated with its prime cause, and
every device should be sought to impress upon the children who will now
be growing up into an impoverished world, the folly and helplessness of
their parents who were unable to keep what they had inherited, whether
of freedom or worldly wealth.
We who are middle-aged will be hardly called upon to see war again, the
generation captured in its prime between the summers of 1914 and 1916,
will have been ruined, the rule of the world will wait upon those who
are just leaving school.
Here the propagandists must work, and as there is hardly a big family
in belligerent Europe that has not contributed life or fortune in some
degree, the foundation for the work will stand prepared.
If I were asked how to develop sane peace propaganda, I would call
upon those who have gone through the war to tell the full story to
those who have remained behind. All should unite to this end when war
is over. Not only should the Englishman tell of frozen trenches and
waterless deserts, but Germans and Austrians should tell of the retreat
in Galicia and the advance to the marshes of Poland and Russia. The
Servian retreat to Albania and the nameless horrors of Armenia should
be recorded by survivors, women for choice, and men of all belligerent
countries should speak of the horrors of the man-of-war that sinks
blazing into the depths.
The camera has a tale to tell of devastated country-side and ruined
city, of all the havoc and waste of war. Let that tale be told.
Let the maimed, the crippled, the blind, the physically useless, come
forward--our eyes will learn their lesson.
Let the Churches speak, not at the bidding of authority, but in
response to the plea of humanity.
Let War, divorced from the physical training incumbent upon men and
women alike, take its place by the side of cancer, cholera, and plague.
Let the authorities tell us the loss of all communities in material
wealth, and the eugenist speak of the blow to civilisation.
Let all the accumulated facts be on record in every public library in
the world, and let them be available even to the illiterate.
Here, then, when the greatest of world-tragedies draws to its appointed
close, is the means I would choose to render its repetition impossible,
believing as I do that ignorance is the root from which all evil
springs.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] A schoolmaster in Austria for saying as much as this was sentenced
to several years' hard labour.
XXIV
LORD FRENCH
My first meeting with Field-Marshal Viscount French, so long
Commander-in-Chief of the "contemptible little army" that has made
history, dates back to the South African War. My latest meeting with
him before he returned from France, was in August, 1914. On each
occasion he was on the point of leaving for the front.
In the wide space that separates the Boer War from the great
international conflict, we met very often; he was frequently our guest,
and we visited him at Government House, Aldershot. I have had many
opportunities of hearing his views of the world problem that confronts
us now, for he had seen it coming nearer and nearer, and had laboured
night and day to meet it. Other men had doubts; he found no room for
any.
It was at Claridge's Hotel in town that we met during the Boer War.
My eldest son, Guy, had then arrived at the ripe age of seventeen,
and still at Eton, had sold all his personal effects, including his
fur coat and jewellery given him by family and friends, to provide
himself with the means of getting to the front and equipping himself
when there. We only learned his intentions when it was too late to stop
them, and I do not think that either my husband or myself was really
anxious to keep him from serving his country. The only difficulty was
to find him something useful to do, and Sir John French offered to take
him on his staff as galloper.
I recall Lord French as I saw him at Claridge's--firm-mouthed, curt in
manner, briefly incisive in speech, saying no more than was absolutely
necessary, and looking at me with the curious glance that bespeaks the
man of action who dreams and sees visions. A strong, resolute figure,
with an iron will behind it, a human war machine in perfect order--that
was my first impression.
Many of my soldier friends were with him in South Africa, where his
gifts as a cavalry leader roused enthusiasm. Writing home from the
front, they told me he had but one fault as a commanding officer--he
could not realise that horses do not respond as readily as soldiers to
human emotions. He could overdrive his men, and they did their utmost
for him, as they did for another martinet, the late General Gatacre,
because in each case they had implicit belief in their leader's
direction and unbounded faith in his skill, but he over-worked his
horses, and kept the remount department in despair.
He came back to England wearing all the laurels of a successful
general, and I met him several times in town. "The dust of praise that
is blown everywhere" was no more to John French than any other dust.
He brushed it sharply away, and devoted all his leisure to considering
the problems of the inevitable struggle with Germany. He believed then,
with that curious gift of divination, that it must come, and he came
near to fixing the date, for many years have passed since he assured me
that it would not be later than 1915.
When the Entente Cordiale was in the air and there was a chance that
Great Britain and France would work side by side, he was delighted.
Such an arrangement was for him an ideal one, and he was, I may say,
one of the first, if not the very first, of our leading military men
who showed a full appreciation of its value. Unfortunately, though a
well-educated and, in a strictly professional sense, a deeply read man,
he had no knowledge of the French language, and he could not rest until
that defect was remedied. So in the Summer of 1906--I think this was
the year--he settled in the little village of La Boulé, near Rouen, and
lived for three months in absolute retirement, mastering the language.
He would not claim to have acquired the Parisian accent, but he can at
least speak fluently.
We were motoring through France that summer and stayed in the little
hotel he had chosen for his headquarters. He was extremely anxious to
take me on a motor tour over the scene of Napoleon's last campaign,
an ambition of long standing only now possible of fulfilment. We came
very near to going with him, but unfortunately, something intervened.
Even Lord French cannot make war anything but unspeakably horrible to
me, but I am yet free to confess that his vast knowledge and soul-deep
convictions make it fearfully interesting.
We could not manage the motor tour, which would have covered Waterloo,
but later, when in Paris, I was able to put his views before the
then Premier, M. Clemenceau, whom I knew well. I had a very long and
intimate conversation about the Entente with the "Tiger," as they
called him in France, and I remember how he wheeled round in his chair
and said to me in the frank, outspoken way that his opponents hate and
fear, "Lady Warwick, the Entente is of no use to us unless your country
can put 400,000 soldiers into France in the hour of need." I may remark
that the French army was not then in its present state of efficiency.
I pointed out that I was not in the confidence of our War Office, and
that his application should be made to other quarters, and went on to
ask him to meet General French to talk over the matters in question.
"I'll do that with pleasure," said M. Clemenceau. "I regard your
General French as one of the few soldiers who understand military
problems from their roots upwards." So the two men met, and I think
they liked and respected one another.
I remember reporting the gist of their conversation in a long letter to
King Edward, who in his reply told me his interest in the military side
of the Entente had been greatly strengthened. In the following year
several of the leading generals of France were invited over to attend
the military manœuvres and were the guests of Sir John and Lady French
at Government House, Aldershot. I was asked to meet them, and heard at
first hand the discussion of many difficulties that are staring us in
the face as I write. I do not think I have ever had more occasion to be
glad that I was taught some foreign languages properly.
On his return to England Sir John French divided his work into
sections. First and foremost came the German question, for he knew
perfectly well, in the light of the ample information that came to him,
how, sooner or later, Germany would fling down the gauntlet, perhaps
before Europe, certainly before Great Britain. His other task was
concerned with the possible invasion of India by Russia. In early days
he had seen service in India, and I have by me now a copy of his own
plans for the defence of our great empire there.
King Edward took Lord French with him when he went to meet the Czar
at Réval, and this visit, at which the foundation of Anglo-Russian
good-fellowship was laid, had a most reassuring effect upon his mind.
Thereafter he devoted himself whole heartedly to the study of the
Anglo-German danger.
Taking for his motto the well-known maxim that it is allowable to learn
even from an enemy--he adapted what he thought was best from the German
methods, and it is well known that he and his close and trusted friend,
Sir Douglas Haig, in making the British Army the perfect machine that
it is, bore well in mind the lessons to be gathered from the German
manœuvres.
He objected strongly to the German close formation, holding it
wasteful and unwise. He had grafted South African experience on his
stock of tactical knowledge, and if the drilling of our men was
terribly hard, he and Sir Douglas found the ripe fruits of it in that
wonderful retreat from Mons and in the battles round Ypres. For German
thoroughness he had a generous and unstinted admiration. Prejudice can
find no place in his mind.
His prevision of the course of the present campaign startles me as I
recall it now. He told me years ago much that has happened since the
greatest world struggle of history began.
A born soldier, he is merciless to the inefficient. He broke a high
officer, who was also a personal friend, because that officer made a
bad blunder. Private considerations were swept aside, as they always
are with him. He spares nobody, least of all himself, but his men love
him almost as much as they trust him, and he watches over their proper
comforts with a jealous eye. They are the component parts of the war
machine, and must be at their best.
Lord French has not much in common with his gifted sister, Mrs.
Despard, who was prominently before the public when the suffrage
question came near to rivalling Home Rule in its claim on public
attention, for Mrs. Despard's life is one of self-sacrifice to lighten
the sorrows of others. But to one well acquainted with brother and
sister, there are the qualities of calm resolution in the face of
danger and of commanding will to be associated with each.
I do not think he reads much, save books dealing with military
questions. He does not hunt or shoot, or play polo or, indeed,
acknowledge any form of sport. He stands professionally as far apart
from the ordinary mundane interests of life as any professor in the
cloistered peace of an old university town, and yet he is full to the
brim of vitalising enthusiasms not to be overlooked by his friends
because they are controlled.
He lives in his profession and breathes the very air of it; soldiering
claims his every thought, and yet he is in no aspect the "beau sabreur"
of the Ouida novels. If you were to drive with him through the most
exquisite landscape, his mind's eye would at once select the salient
points of attack and defence, he would grasp every military possibility
of what lay before him, but the surrounding beauty would pass him by.
Sometimes we have talked of war. "I hate war as much as you do," he has
said to me more than once, "but----" There it ends, and he is looking
with far-seeing eyes at encounters yet to be.
In the conventional sense he has no religion, and yet I regard him
as one of the most religious men I know. His views of the hereafter
are clear; he is confidently assured of the soul's survival, its
reincarnation, the fulfilment of its ambitions. He is an idealist, an
enthusiast, a man who could not act dishonestly if he tried, faithful
to the bitter end to those in whom he trusts.
Much of the recent gossip in London has endeavoured to suggest that
he has been a party to the intrigues of others. I venture to say that
nobody who understands Lord French could make such a foolish mistake.
The personal interests and trickery of small natures have no meaning
for him. First and last and all the time he is a soldier, probably the
one soldier who could have overcome the enormous difficulties by which
he has been faced. He is the type of the leader of men, an example of
the power of concentration driving a single purpose to its end. I think
Frederick the Great would have made much of him and that his chief hero
in a military sense, the first Napoleon, would have kept him by his
side.
He has been sorely tried. It is to be hoped that Sir Douglas Haig, who
in a military sense is his creation, will realise his teacher's dreams
and ambitions.
XXV
LORD HALDANE: SOME RECOLLECTIONS AND AN ESTIMATE
In the library this morning I came by chance upon a book that should
not have been there--a "Life of Lassalle" that Lord Haldane lent me
some years ago, and which I had forgotten to return. It chanced that
within the hour I had thrown aside in disgust the Tory daily paper that
held a vulgar and rancorous attack upon the Ex-War Minister. Perhaps it
was the coincidence that set me thinking.
My mind travelled back to the day not so many years ago--King Edward
had lately ascended the throne--when I met Lord Haldane for the first
time. It was at Dalmeny, Lord Rosebery's home on the Firth of Forth.
I forget who was of the party, at least I can remember only Winston
Churchill, then coming under our host's political influence. My first
recollection of Mr. Haldane as he was in those days was meeting him in
the Library. He was busy arranging his host's treasures to the best
advantage and was very little concerned with the house party's social
side. He would appear at table, create an immediate impression by
reason of his illuminating conversation, and, the meal taken, would
slip back again to his beloved books. I carried away from Dalmeny the
impression of one of the most interesting men I had ever met--a man
with massive head, twinkling eye and witty speech that stimulated
all and hurt none. He was that _rara avis_ a lawyer without guile, a
philosopher untainted by the Courts. We met again, and again I was
immensely attracted by his personality. In the world we met in, men
and women were seeking success of some sort all the time. Wealth,
prestige, political power, social influence, whatever our weakness it
rose to the surface like a cork. Of all these things Mr. Haldane seemed
supremely unconscious, he swam through the social waters like a kindly
triton among minnows. Even in those days he had long been a devout
student and an ardent admirer of what was best in Germany, and I think
it was because I too was interested in the marvellous progress of that
Empire that we found something in common. And he lent me the "Life of
Lassalle," the book that lies before me as I write.
I have sincere belief in the intuitive perception of women. I believe
that their instinct is stronger than their reasoning faculty, and
that in the great majority of cases they are justified in their
belief, even if they call it a prejudice. From the beginning of our
acquaintance it seemed to me that Lord Haldane would in any large
affairs of life be misjudged by his countrymen. In the first place he
is a great intellect, and as a nation we hold all knowledge suspect.
Secondly, he lacked the proper qualifications of the parliamentarian:
he had nothing of the divine gift of push. He did not enjoy the
limelight, and as for advertising himself, I think he would not have
known how to begin. I do not believe he ever wished to enter the
political arena, he never was a politician in the party sense, but he
succumbed to the influence of Lord Rosebery and Mr. Asquith who saw
that so great an intelligence would be of infinite value to the Liberal
party. To me it always seemed a pity to drag the kindly philosopher
from his study and to bring him upon the shabby stage whereon the
tragi-comedy of party politics is played for the bemusement of the
general public. Perhaps Lord Haldane's long and intimate study of
the best side of German life led the Liberal leaders to believe that
he would be _persona grata_ in circles that could curb the worst.
Perhaps they too were fascinated by the breadth of his views, the
range of his knowledge, the serenity of his outlook, and the clarity
of his judgments. There is no doubt that he used all his powers to
come to such a friendly arrangement with Germany as could be reached
without detriment to any of the interests of our friends and allies in
Europe. There is no doubt that he was face to face for years with the
conditions that reached their climax in July, 1914, and that he did all
that was possible to preserve peace while preparing for the defence of
the country.
Our Tories demanded a scapegoat; the Lilliputians of Westminster and
Fleet Street have flung a thousand venomed darts at Gulliver. I am
grateful to think that I know the real man whose aspect they have
succeeded for a little while in distorting. Quite steadfastly he
opposed German militarism, quite hopefully he clung to the belief
that he would succeed in his great quest of peace. Perhaps he was too
confident. Perhaps he underrated the forces that were opposed to him
not only abroad but at home.
We are too near the history of our own time to tell, but I remember
one incident that revealed to me the seriousness of the struggle in
which he was engaged. There was a meeting to develop the Territorial
movement in the county town, and I found myself sitting by his side at
the luncheon. Following it he made one of the most stimulating speeches
I have ever listened to, appealing to territorials to come forward and
prepare themselves to help their country. For simple direct eloquence,
for a call to the highest and noblest feelings without one vulgar
thought or unworthy expression, I have never heard a speech to equal
it. Only a great statesman and a man full of the loftiest patriotism
could have spoken as he spoke. Those who are well informed know what we
owe to the system of training devised by this lawyer-philosopher and
how wonderfully it has borne expansion to meet the sudden needs. His
critics have never paused to remember that he was a loyal member of a
Cabinet that imposed its collective will upon the people; they have not
realised how largely the decisions of the Foreign Office would have
availed to control his own views. It is so easy to say that, rather
than submit to any reduction of our forces he should have resigned.
Those who know Lord Haldane are well aware that pride of place would
never have kept him in an office that absorbed all his leisure.
Thoughtful people will realise that one of the tenets held by a loyal
Cabinet minister is subordination of personal views to the collective
views of the ministry. If every man who could not follow his chief
along a given road were to resign he would not only lose all chance
of giving effect to his purposes but he would make Cabinet rule an
impossibility.
While preparing the country for defence, Lord Haldane had to fight the
militarism that has at last run wild through Europe; while providing
for the worst, he had, in the highest interests of his countrymen, to
seek the best and, if possible, to ensue it. His Territorial scheme
was countered from first to last by the conscriptionists, they sought
by every overt and covert act to render all his efforts nugatory.
I venture to say, not without sound knowledge, that he occupied a
position of hideous responsibility with a measure of courage, fortitude
and altruism to which those who are best qualified to judge will always
pay tribute. One thing he would not do. He would not descend into the
arena of sordid controversy to gladden the hearts and stimulate the
conceit of petty politicians. If he failed, he was a glorious failure;
but I venture to say that when the impartial historian, depending on
knowledge to which the general public cannot yet gain access, surveys
the years that led to destruction, he will rescue Lord Haldane's name
and fame from the accumulation of dirt and rubbish that have been
heaped upon it by men whom none will desire to remember.
I regard it as a great privilege to know the real man and to lay my
little tribute before him, though to one so amply dowered with the hate
and scorn of scorn, defenders against such imputations as have been
levelled at him may well be superfluous. But I owe a great debt to his
master mind. Of all the distinguished men I have been privileged to
meet none has had higher qualities of heart and brain, and it seems to
me that this is the season in which such a debt should be acknowledged.
XXVI
GROUNDS FOR OPTIMISM