Like most Irishmen, Lord Roberts had a keen sense of humour. At a
public dinner at which I was present he had for a near neighbour, at
the high table, Lord Willoughby de Broke, who in his after-dinner
speech had occasion to refer to the Territorial Army.
“If I am asked,” he said, “whether a young man should join the
Territorial Army, my answer is invariably ‘Yes,’ and for three
reasons. The first reason is that he will, perhaps for the first time
in his life, be coming under the salutary influence of Discipline,
and I say confidently and without fear of contradiction, that there
is no finer influence for a young fellow than that of Discipline.”
These were sentiments that appealed to a soldier, and of the many
approving cries of “Hear! Hear!” which came from all parts of the
room, none rang more whole-heartedly than those of Lord Roberts.
“My second reason,” went on the speaker, “is that the young man will
thereby be discharging a patriotic duty. To-day we are all thinking
too much of our rights, rarely of our responsibilities, and in my
opinion every able-bodied young fellow, whether he be a duke’s son,
a draper’s son, or the son of a costermonger, should be trained to
defend his country against an invader in her hour of need.”
Once again Lord Willoughby de Broke was expressing the very
sentiments with which Lord Roberts’ name was so closely associated,
and again it was the great soldier’s “Hear! Hear!” which was most
emphatic.
“And lastly,” concluded the speaker, “my reason for advising every
young fellow to join the Territorial Army is that it gives him a
chance of--getting away from his wife for a night or a week or a
fortnight without putting him to the trouble of hashing up some
silly excuse which she knows is as palpably a fake and a lie as he
does himself.”
Thus far Lord Willoughby de Broke had spoken with such grave
earnestness that we were all prepared as heartily to endorse his
third reason as his previous ones. Lord Roberts had, in fact, raised
his right hand above his left to applaud when the speaker sprang this
surprise upon us, and especially upon those of us who were married,
for the dinner was graced by the presence of Lady Willoughby de Broke
and Lady Roberts, as well as by other ladies, the wives, daughters,
and sisters of those present.
For one second the company, if I may so phrase it, “gaped”
open-mouthed at the trap into which they had been led, and then there
was a great roar of laughter, in which no one more heartily joined
than did Lady Willoughby de Broke, Lady Roberts, and Lord Roberts
himself.
I recall another and grimmer instance of Lord Roberts’ sense of
humour. On February 27, 1914, he introduced to the Prime Minister a
Deputation whose object was to plead the cause of National Service.
When I say that it was a great occasion I am not expressing my own
opinion, but that of a distinguished member of the Deputation who has
since written and published in pamphlet form an official account of
the proceedings.
“Those of us who look forward,” he writes, “to an early fruition of
the hopes which we have cherished and the aims for which we have
worked for so many years past, will ever look back upon Friday, the
27th of February, 1914, as a milestone, a red-letter day in the
History of National Service.
“All the circumstances conspired to stamp a great occasion with the
greatness which belonged to it. The importance of the Cause needs no
illustration from the present writer. In Lord Roberts’ well-known
words, ‘National Service means not only national safety; it means
national health, national strength, national honour, and national
prosperity.’
“The Deputation included some of the greatest and most distinguished
men of the day, and--a most significant and important factor--the
greatness was in nearly every case not inherited but achieved by
conspicuous service in the fields of national and imperial endeavour.
Three Field-Marshals, including our veteran leader who has carried
our flag to victory with honour in Asia and Africa and served King
and country for fifty-five years; two Admirals of the Fleet, one
of whom was in command of the International Forces at Crete, and
the other commanded the International Naval Forces in China at the
time of the Boxer Rebellion; an ex-Viceroy of India, prominent
representatives of the Church and of Nonconformity; the editor of one
of the most influential weeklies, and representatives of literature,
science, and industry.”
Of this Deputation I was, by Lord Roberts’ personal invitation and
wish, a member, and as I arrived in good time I had an opportunity of
some conversation with him in the ante-room before we passed into the
Library in which Mr. Asquith was to receive us.
Seeing that one of his hands was swathed in bandages, I inquired the
reason.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” he said smilingly. “I’ve often been accused
of having too many irons in the fire, but this time it is a case of
having a hand too much in the fire. Just before leaving my hotel this
morning, my foot slipped on the marble paving of the hall, and in
falling forward and trying to save myself, I thrust my hand between
the bars of the fire, and so got a bit of a burn. But it’s a mere
nothing, and of no consequence.”
So far from being, as Lord Roberts said, a mere nothing, I have
since heard that the burn was, on the contrary, excessively painful,
but all through the lengthy and trying ordeal of introducing the
different members of the Deputation, listening to, and commenting
upon what was said, as well as listening to and replying to the Prime
Minister’s very important and brilliantly able speech, Lord Roberts
was the alertest, cheeriest, and most watchful of those present. A
burn that would have distressed and possibly have distracted the
attention of a much younger man, and that must necessarily have
caused constant and severe pain, the gallant old soldier, then
nearing his 82nd year, treated as of no consequence and dismissed
with a lightly uttered jest. To the last it was of others, never of
himself, that he thought. On this particular occasion he was pleading
(to use his own words) “as plainly as an old man has the right to
speak, in the face of emergencies which would be far less terrible
to him personally than to generations of Britons yet unborn.” That
was not many months before his death, and though I saw and talked
with Field-Marshal Earl Roberts, V.C., on other and later occasions,
I shall to my life’s end picture him as I saw him then--his burned
and bandaged hand throbbing with pain of which he showed no single
sign, thrust behind him and out of sight, as eloquently, gravely,
almost passionately, he warned his hearers of a possible national
disaster, the consequences of which would be “far less terrible to
him personally than to generations of Britons yet unborn.”