thirty years, produced a hero like Your Lordship, whose soldier-like
qualities are fully known to the world. The country which has been the
cradle of Indian invasions came to realize the extent of your power and
recognized your generalship. . . . The occupation of Kabul and the
glorious battle of Kandahar are amongst the brightest jewels in the
diadem of Your Lordship's Baronage. . . . Terrible in war and merciful
in peace, Your Excellency's name has become a dread to the enemies of
England and lovely to your friends."
That last phrase, "lovely to your friends," is a true though Oriental
summing-up of one great secret of Roberts' renown. He has been called
the "best-loved soldier of England." And he possessed in an especial
degree the power of attracting and holding the love and respect of the
East Indians. They felt that he would always deal fairly by them.
When he went to Mandalay, in 1886, he saw that if he wished to win the
confidence of the people of Upper Burmah, he must win over the Buddhist
priests. This he did, and even persuaded his Government to pension the
three head priests.
"They showed their gratitude," he says, "by doing all they could to help
me, and when I was leaving the country, the old Thathana bain accompanied
me as far as Rangoon. We corresponded till his death, and I still hear
occasionally from one or other of my Phoonghi friends."
As for his own soldiers, they came fairly to worship him. To them he was
not a Lord, or General, or Field Marshal, but just "Bobs" and "Our Bobs."
Wellington commanded the respect of his men, but Roberts their love.
"Lord Roberts! Well, he's just a father," is the testimony of one gunner
in the South African War. "Often goes around hospital in Bloemfontein,
and it's 'Well, my lad, how are you today? Anything I can do for you?
Anything you want?'--and never forgets to see that the man has what he
asks for. Goes to the hospital train--'Are you comfortable? Are you
sure you're comfortable?' Then it's 'Buck up! Buck up!' to those who
need it. But when he sees a man dying, it's 'Can I pray with you, my
lad?' I've seen him many a time praying, with not a dry eye near--tears
in his eyes and ours. He is a lord!"
A favorite story about him relates to an audience with Queen Victoria.
The famous veteran was then sixty-eight and for several years had been
living in retirement. Now his sovereign asked him to buckle on his sword
again, and go to retrieve the fallen British fortunes in South Africa.
"You do not think that you are too old for this arduous task?" asked the
Queen. "You are not afraid of your health breaking down?"
"I have kept myself fit," replied the old soldier, "for the past twenty
years, in the hope that I might command in such a campaign as this."
The remark, "I have kept myself fit," is a keynote of his life. The puny
boy of the long ago was to survive this campaign with flying colors, and
to lend his counsel in the Great War of our own time. It was a long life
and full of service. In an address to a children's school, when a man of
eighty, he summed up his creed by saying:
"In the first place, don't be slack in anything that you are doing.
Whether it be work or play, do it with all your might. You will find
that this great Empire can only be maintained by the exercise of
self-denial, by training, by discipline, and by courage."
IMPORTANT DATES IN ROBERTS'S LIFE
1832. September 30. Frederick Roberts born.
1845. Entered Eton School.
1847. Entered military college at Sandhurst.
1852. Went as second-lieutenant of Bengal Artillery to India.
1857. Fought in the Mutiny, and won Victoria Cross.
1858. Returned to England on leave.
1859. Sent back to India, major.
1875. Quartermaster-general of Army of India.
1885. Commander-in-chief in India.
1891. Created a peer.
1895. Created field marshal.
1900. South African campaign.
1901. Commander-in-chief of British army.
1914. November 14. Died in France.
KITCHENER
THE SOLDIER OF DEEDS--NOT WORDS
When Chinese Gordon lost his life in Khartoum, Egypt, in 1884, because
the British relief force reached him two days too late, a young officer
accompanying the expedition was getting his first glimpse of a land
that was destined to make him famous. "Kitchener of Khartoum" was to
become as widely known in a later generation as Chinese Gordon was in
his own. Each won his spurs in a foreign land.
Kitchener was then a cavalry officer of thirty-five, and did not seem
destined to get much higher in army circles. Yet he had never lost
faith in himself. After this first expedition to Egypt, when he was
still only a major, he remarked drolly to a fellow officer:
"Never mind, my dear fellow, a few years hence you and I will be
generals, and these people who annoy us now (meaning the red-tape
departmental clerks) will be looking out of their club windows, with
all their teeth falling out of their heads!"
During this same expedition, he spoke of the fact that their commanding
officer had missed the key-point, by saying:
"It's the same with everybody. We must stop floundering, or people
will forget that Khartoum is our objective and always will be."
Prophetic words for Kitchener of Khartoum.
Who was this strong, stern, silent soldier whose career linked up past
wars with the great World War of our own day?
Like Wellington and Roberts, Kitchener came of Irish stock. He was
born near Listowel, June 24, 1850, his father, Colonel Henry Kitchener,
having bought a considerable estate in the counties of Kerry and
Limerick.
Colonel Kitchener had seen a good deal of active service himself, and
still more of garrison life. He determined to retire, and after buying
some 2,000 acres of land in Ireland, at a bankrupt sale, he built a
hunting lodge, called Gunsborough House. This was Herbert Horatio
Kitchener's birthplace. Whether the name of the house had anything to
do with his warlike career, history does not state. But certain it is,
that he was a born soldier--a man of iron almost from his boyhood.
"Yes," said his old nurse, in talking about him only a few years ago,
"I know that he is a great man; and they tell me that he has no heart,
and that everybody is afraid of him; but they are wrong. He is really
one of the most tender-hearted men in the world; and whenever he comes
to see me, he is 'my boy' just as he was in the old days in Ireland,
when he used to run to me in all his troubles, and fling his arms
around me and hug me. Ah, there is nobody left who knows the real
Master Herbert as I know him."
As a boy at school, Herbert Kitchener was not very brilliant. Like
Wellington, whose mother called him "the fool of the family," Kitchener
did too much day-dreaming to make much headway with his studies. His
first teacher was a governess, who gave him up in despair. Then he was
sent to a private school where he did not do any better.
His father lost his patience. Just before an examination, he made a
dire threat.
"Young man," said the Colonel, "if you fail I'll make you toe the mark.
I'll send you to a girl's school."
Apparently the threat did not have the desired effect. He flunked and
was transferred to the other school. This time he was told that
failure meant that he would be taken out of school entirely and
apprenticed to a hatter.
The warning had the desired effect. Herbert buckled down to work and
not only passed his examinations, but even began to show a decided
liking for mathematics--which study was to be of good service in later
life.
By this time the family had moved into a more pretentious home, known
as the Crotta House. Little is related of his boyhood life there. It
was quiet and uneventful. The boy was of reserved nature, preferring
to sit quietly in the corner and listen while others did the talking.
Yet when drawn out, he could talk well, preferring to reason rather
than argue. His chief outdoor sport was swimming. The home was only a
few miles inland from the Atlantic coast, and he and his brothers often
rode over for a dip.
His father was of industrious and thorough-going type. The family
motto was "Thorough," and the Colonel lived up to it. "K. of K." also
became a master of detail; and here on his father's estate he learned
his first lessons in it. Colonel Kitchener constantly preached the
value of time--and practised what he preached. Instead of settling
down to a life of ease, he was always at work on the estate. He
reclaimed large tracts of bogs, turning them into fertile land. He
raised breed horses and cattle. He set up his own factory for making
bricks, tiles, and drain-pipes. His own life of energy and
organization was the best possible example to his boys. That Herbert,
with all his apparent indolence, was profiting by it, became evident
years afterward.
When the boy was fifteen, his father determined on a complete change of
environment for him. "I want you to see something else besides
Ireland," he said. Herbert was accordingly sent to Switzerland, to a
French school conducted by a Mr. Bennett. It was in Villeneuve, at the
eastern end of Lake Geneva. In this scenic spot of Europe he remained
for some four years, paying occasional visits home, but becoming more
and more a cosmopolitan, instead of merely a shy Irish lad. He learned
to speak French like a native, and got a start in German and Italian.
Languages always came easy to him.
Meanwhile he trudged about the mountain country on many a long
excursion, with a camera slung across his shoulders, learning an art
that he was soon to put to good use. Thanks to this outdoor life he
grew up into a strong, well-built fellow, with a physique that was to
stand the test of many hard days to come.
His father wanted him to follow in his own footsteps and become a
soldier. He used his influence to place him in the Royal Military
Academy, at Woolwich. Herbert entered there as a cadet, in his
nineteenth year.
Two years later, while still a cadet, we find him getting his foretaste
of actual warfare. It was the summer of 1870. War had been declared
by France against Prussia--the short but terrible war so skilfully
engineered by Bismarck. Herbert Kitchener had gone to spend a summer
vacation with his father, at Dinan in the north of France, and promptly
got imbued with the war fever. He enlisted in a battalion, in the
Second Army of the Loire, commanded by General Chanzy. This army, like
other well-intentioned but poorly organized troops of the French, was
driven steadily back by the superior German forces, until the enemy
bombarded and captured Paris.
It is interesting to note that Kitchener's first and last military
service was on behalf of the French against their hereditary
enemies--and that history came dangerously near to repeating itself in
the German drive of 1914 against Paris. That it did not do so, was due
in no small measure to the grim veteran who was now Secretary of War,
and to his wonderful army of volunteers, dubbed "Kitchener's Mob."
Whether or not Kitchener did any actual close-up fighting in these
early days we do not know. One novel experience, however, is placed to
his credit. He made an ascent in an observation balloon, with two
French officers. In those days, the big bags were risky and unknown
quantities, and an ascent was something to talk about.
The ill-starred war over, young Kitchener returned to Woolwich, and his
school duties as though nothing special had happened.
"Why did you go off and join the French army?" he was asked by the
commandant.
"Please, sir," came the straightforward answer, "I understood that I
should not be wanted for some time, and I could not be idle. I thought
I might learn something."
He had indeed--if nothing more than the power of a thoroughly prepared
enemy against an unready land.
The next stage in Kitchener's career was picturesque but full of
hardship. It was in connection with an exploring expedition to the
Holy Land.
In 1865, a society called the Palestine Exploration Fund had been
founded, its object being to study the history and geography of the
country. Seven years later it had entered on the gigantic task of
surveying a tract of about 6,000 square miles, much of it desert or
mountainous country.
Kitchener was just graduating from the Military Academy, with the usual
rank of lieutenant, and was casting about for active service. He could
not brook the idea of settling down to garrison life. The post of
assistant to the leader of this Palestine Expedition was offered him,
and he accepted with alacrity. While a private enterprise, it had the
sanction of the War Department, and promised to provide thrills as well
as work. The fact that it was the Holy Land of Bible story also
appealed to Kitchener. Witness one of the first entries in his Journal:
"Looking down on the broad plain of Esdraelon . . . it is impossible
not to remember that this is the greatest battlefield of the world,
from the days of Joshua and the defeat of the mighty hosts of Sisera,
till, almost in our own days, Napoleon the Great fought the battle of
Mount Tabor; and here also is the ancient Megiddo, where the last great
battle of Armageddon is to be fought."
Lieutenant Kitchener reported for duty in Palestine, in the Fall of
1874. The exploration party was then working in the hill country south
of Judah, which was still a sealed book to the rest of the world.
Their job was "to search in every hole and corner of the country and
see what is there, and classify everything in proper form"--to quote
the words of their prospectus. For this work they required both the
surveyor's instrument and the camera.
In the use of the latter, Kitchener had shown aptitude at school; and
it is said that this fact had something to do with his appointment. It
is evident from the first official report that he "made good." His
chief, Lieutenant Conder, states that he succeeded in securing some
excellent photographs "under peculiarly unfavorable circumstances."
The climate did not set well with him at first, and after two attacks
of fever he recovered his health sufficiently to take part in the Dead
Sea work of 1875.
At Wady Seiyal, reports Conder, "we were caught in the most tremendous
gale which we have yet experienced in tents; and our next march of
nineteen miles in a perfect hurricane of bitter wind, with showers of
sleet and hail, necessitated by the fact that all our barley and other
stores were consumed, was the hardest bit of experience we have yet
encountered. Our dogs and two muleteers were unable to face the storm,
and took refuge in caves. Old Sheikh Hamzeh fell off his pony twice,
and had to be tied on. The brave beasts struggled for eleven hours,
and crossed more than one torrent of cold water up nearly to the
girths, but by eight at night they were in a warm stable, and we had
found refuge in Hebron in the house of a German Karaite Jew, whose
hospitality was as great as his subsequent charge was high."
At times the ground was so uneven and devoid of trails, that they could
not march much faster than one mile an hour. The only human beings
they encountered were the Bedouin Arabs--sly, furtive fellows who were
always ready for a trade, but who would kill a man just as readily for
his shirt.
The slow progress, however, did not worry Kitchener particularly. He
made good use of the time in photographing old walls, caves, and
natural strongholds. For instance, five days were spent in getting
data and records of the ruins of a fortress erected at Ascalon by
Richard Coeur-de-Lion, during his famous Crusade.
Here it was that Kitchener's skill in swimming and presence of mind
were put to the test. Lieutenant Conder was swept off his horse while
fording the stream, and was in imminent danger of drowning, when
Kitchener sprang to his aid and towed him ashore.
Despite the danger and hardships, Kitchener revelled in this wild life.
One of the party says of him: "He was as good company as a man could
wish to have, full of life and good spirits. We none of us thought
much about our toilets, and he least of all. Why, after a few months'
travelling about in Palestine, he looked more like a tramp than an
officer in Her Majesty's Army. His clothes wouldn't have fetched a
three penny-bit at any 'old do' shop in Whitechapel."
It was in this first field service that he won a reputation which clung
to him through his whole career. They said that his chief amusement
was work, and his relaxation, more work. He was of seemingly tireless
energy, and never could understand the let-downs of others. The
boyhood trait of silence was also marked in the man. Although he
picked up languages easily, he used them sparingly. It was said of him
later that he could keep silent in ten languages.
In a letter home, from Palestine, he throws a sidelight on this working
phase of his nature. "The non-commissioned officers," he says, "though
ready to go through any amount of work or danger, are much discouraged
at the prospect of an indefinite delay without employment, which, in my
opinion, is more trying in this climate than work."
Not long after, the round of work and routine duty was varied by a
first-class fight. A Moslem sheikh had become so impertinent one day,
that Lieut. Conder ordered him out of his tent. The sheikh drew a
knife and was promptly disarmed and made prisoner by the British.
Instantly he lifted up his voice, calling for his men. The response
was prompt. They seemed to spring up out of the very rocks, and soon
there were two hundred of them howling and dancing around the handful
of Englishmen. Conder thus relates the happening:
"Lieut. Kitchener and I were immediately surrounded. Three came to me
and asked me with curses what I was doing. An old man thrust his
battle-axe violently into my side, but I did not like to strike him,
though I had now a hunting-crop in my hand. I told them they were mad
and would be severely punished if they struck an Englishman. About
this time other members of the party saw a gun levelled at me five
yards off, but fortunately the man's hand was caught before he fired.
A man now came into the crowd which surrounded me, and dealt me a blow
on the head with a large club with great violence, causing two wounds
on the side of my head, covering my face with blood. A second blow,
directed with full force at the top of my head, must inevitably have
brained me, had I not put my head down to his chest. My servants gave
me up for dead. The blow fell on my neck, which ever since has been so
stiff and swollen that it is impossible to turn it round. The rest of
the party saw me fall.
"As soon as I got up, I dealt this man a blow in the face with the
handle of my whip which staggered him, but my whip flew out of my hand
and left me entirely unarmed. I must inevitably have been murdered but
for the cool and prompt assistance of Lieut. Kitchener, who managed to
get to me and engaged one of the clubmen, covering my retreat.
"A blow descending on the top of his head he parried with a cane, which
was broken by the force of the blow. A second wounded his arm. His
escape is unaccountable. Having retired a few paces from the thick of
the fray, I saw that the Moslems were gradually surrounding us,
stealing behind trees and through vineyards, and I well understood that
in such a case, unless the soldiers arrived at once, we must all die.
Many of the servants had indeed already given up hope, though no one
fled. I gave the order to leave the tents and fly round the hill.
"Lieut. Kitchener was the last to obey this order, being engaged in
front. He retreated to his tent, and whilst running he was fired at,
and heard the bullet whistle by his head. He was also followed for
some short distance by a man with a huge scimitar, who subsequently
wounded with it more than one of our people."
The timely arrival of the regular soldiers undoubtedly saved the little
party from massacre.
Another enemy, the Eastern fever, was more successful in attack. Both
Conder and Kitchener had to return to England to recuperate. In 1877,
Kitchener went back, this time in command of the expedition, and by
midsummer had completed his survey of northern Palestine. He had
covered all told one thousand miles of country, making photographs and
maps which added immeasurably to the general knowledge.
On his way back to England, Kitchener stopped in Turkey, which was then
at war with Bulgaria. His observations on the qualities of soldiers in
the two peoples, as recorded in an article written for _Blackwood's
Magazine_, are interesting in the light of later wars.
The publication of the results of the Palestine exploration first
brought Kitchener to public notice. He was officially thanked and
began to be regarded as a marked man. He had won his first spurs.
His next task was along similar lines. The Island of Cyprus occupied a
strategic position in the Mediterranean, and moreover had been the
scene of much turmoil. The British Government desired to set up a
stable regime there, and to this end decided to make a careful survey
of the Island and its resources. They naturally turned to Kitchener to
do the work. The satisfactory way in which he carried it through
earned for him the warm approval of Lord Derby, then Secretary of State
for the Colonies. One of his associates in Cyprus says of him there:
"We saw little of Kitchener at the club or anywhere else where
Englishmen mostly congregated, although he sometimes turned up at the
gymkhana meetings to contribute his share to their success. Kitchener
was always a hard worker, a gentleman with a long head who thought much
but said little. It is, of course, easy enough to prophesy when you
know, but honestly, to my mind, he looked a man who would go far if he
only had his chance."
As an immediate result of this work, Kitchener was given the rank of
Major, and sent with Lord Wolseley's expedition into Egypt--then in the
throes of civil war. One reason for his promotion was his ability to
speak Arabic. His several years in the East had not only taught him
the languages, but valuable insight into manners and customs.
The campaign was short and summary. The rebel forces were routed and
order established in northern Egypt. Kitchener's ability to organize,
and his knowledge of the people soon made him indispensable. His name
occurred so frequently in the official reports, that Lord Cromer, in
the home office, remarked: "This Kitchener seems to have a finger in
every pie. I must see him and find out what he is like." Later, after
seeing him, Cromer said: "That man's got a lot in him. He should prove
one of our best assets in Egypt."
The next event--and a dramatic one--in Kitchener's life was concerned
with the attempted rescue of Gordon, some three years later. This
famous General had been sent to subdue the Soudan, which literally
means "Land of the Blacks," and had not received sufficient
reinforcements. It was a blunder on the part of the home Government
for which Gordon was to pay with his life. A relief force under
Wolseley was sent too late.
Kitchener was fully alive to the peril of the situation, but being only
a subordinate could not do much to hasten affairs. He did know,
however, that a widespread conspiracy was being hatched which
threatened the safety of Wolseley's forces as well. How he got at the
bottom of this conspiracy is related by Charles Shaw, a Canadian
journalist who accompanied the expedition.
A group of Arabs who had been in a brawl were lying tied hand and foot
in the guardhouse, when a tall man, also securely tied, was thrown in
with them. Although dressed like a native, Shaw relates, "he looked a
different brand of Arab than I had been accustomed to. He was
Kitchener. He was after the conspiracy.
"I didn't know much Arabic in those days, but we could hear the
Dongolese talk and talk in excited tones the whole night, the tall man
occasionally saying a few words.
"When we paraded before the large open-faced orderly tent next morning,
we were almost paralyzed to see Lord Wolseley himself seated at the
little table with Kitchener beside him, both in full staff uniform. A
tall, fine-looking Arab was being examined through the interpreter. He
didn't seem impressed by the glittering uniforms or the presence of the
Commander-in-chief, or embarrassed by their questions. Once or twice
an expression of surprise flitted over his face, but his eyes were
always fixed on Kitchener, who would now and again stoop and whisper
something in Lord Wolseley's ear. Once he raised his voice. The
prisoner heard its intonation and recognized him. With a fierce bound
the long, lithe Arab made a spring and was over the table, and had
seized Kitchener by the throat. There was a short, swift struggle,
Wolseley's eye glistened, and he half drew his sword. Kitchener,
athletic as he was, was being overpowered, and the Arab was throttling
him to death.