. SIR EVELYN WOOD AT FISHMONGERS' HALL.
SIR EVELYN WOOD is a soldier of whom the Fish- mongers' Company and his own county and the whole kingdom do well to be proud, and we only hope he may speedily have fuller scope for the exercise of his powers. By the testimony of all experts and of all under his command, he did the best work done in Zululand, and is one of the rare men who can not only guide and command, but make an army, licking terribly unpromising material into an efficient. fighting force. Boys under him become veterans, and scratch battalions of raw louts effective regiments, able to go anywhere and do anything. England wants such men badly enough just now, God knows, if we are to go on with this policy of adventure, and if all tales from Zululand and the Indian frontier be true as to the conduct of our 44 green " recruits ; and we grudge Sir Evelyn Wood no promotion the Horse Guards can give him, and no honour the country can offer, sure that they will only provoke him to still greater efforts. But we cannot honestly say that we cordially approve such a speech from a General as he delivered at the Fishmongers' banquet on Tues- day. It was a very good speech, though a little rhetorical, and once or twice even rhapsodical in form, and a very interesting one, and withal entirely modest, the speaker never taking credit to himself from end to end, unless it were the implied one that he could recognise others' merit. But it was a very doubtful precedent, for all that. In words so arranged that they have caught the public ear, and will not be forgotten for years, Sir Evelyn Wood, in truth, published a Gazette of his own, distributing in an oral bulletin praise far warmer and more exciting, because more instantly caught up by the countrymen of those praised, than he could have put in a despatch, and doubtless, if there were omissions, also
• censure. This was the kind of thing :—
" I speak of Ronald Campbell, of the Coldstreams, who gave his unselfish life up for others when he dashed forward into a cavern until, touched by a Zulu gun, ho fell a voluntary sacrifice; but was instantaneously avenged by two bravb boys, Lieutenant Lysous and Private Fowler, of the 90th Light Infantry, who, undaunted by Campbell's fate, ran in and slow Campbell's slayers. The united ages of these lads scarcely exceeds my own, so that you will not wonder that I retain considerable confidence in our boys, and do not believe the race deteriorated in fighting-power. I will not dwell long on sad retied i,)118 to-night, but while thanking you for the com- pliment you are plying the Flying Column through its leader, I must recall some who, ]airing died in our service, deserve to live in our memory. • Robert Barton, another Coldstream Guardsman, who, as stated officially, long before he met his death was brave as he was humane,' when last soon alive, was endeavouring to save a comrade from the remorseless foe. Llewellyn Lloyd, my interpreter, brave, wise, and kind, of whom I had previously reported, when I had no idea of his impending fate, that ' he possessed every attribute of an English gentleman,' was shot down at my side. Lieutenant C. Williams, of the 58th Regiment, a volunteer, was slain when rallying Uhamor's men in company with Charles Potter, the solo hope of his parents, a gallant and intelligent colonial officer, beloved by the natives, by whom he was known only as ' Nicholson, the enthusiastic yet imperturbable Lieutenant of Artillery, who scorning the shelter of the breastwork thrown up to cover his gun, was shot through the body and mortally wounded ; Private Grosvenor, lath Light Infantry —for my sympathies are as much with the privates as the officers— who, remaining behind to save a serjoant, saved him at the cost of his own life ; Serjeant M'Allcn, 90th Light Infantry, who, after having his first wound dressed, hurried out to rejoin his company in an exposed position, where be full dead; Piet Uys, that grand Dutch- man, to whom I promised in England's name the protection of his children, of which their father's death in our service has deprived them; the gallant Saltmarshe, who died at the head of his company in the Gaika war ; the uo less gallant Corporal Hillier, who met his death in snatching his captain's body from the Gaikaa ; Arthur Bright, whose lovable qualities are over in my mind, —these soldiers of my regiment, and of ninny other corps, in the manner of their death, have emphatically contradicted the ignorant assertion that the war in South Africa was one in which no honour was to be gained. My thoughts brighteu when 1 revert to the living, and 1 think with pleasure of my friend here, Colonel Pearson ; may he pardon me when I call him by his South-African name, the Bulldog of Ekowe.' I think Of D'Arcy, of the Frontier Light Horse, who so nearly lost his life in turning to rescue a wounded comrade. I think of Serjeant Jeff and Private Greyham, standing over their wounded captain. I think of Sorjeant Smith, who, when both his officers were lying sorely stricken and senseless, bravely commanded the company of the 90th Infantry as well as any officer could have done. Tho Flying Column is broken up. Captain Woodgato, impassive as a rock under the hottest fire; the brave surgeons—Reilly, Connolly, and Browne—who, exposed to a storm of bullets, tenderly cared for our wounded ; Major Hackett, one of the ablest and bravest officers, who, directing his men to take cover, himself walked erect in the midst of a hail of missiles until ono wounded him so cruelly ; Bercsford, Browne, Loot, and Buller, are now well-known names, and I am proud ffhowever, soldiers ol di e r s who to claim them as comrades. In each caseni s aestsleigeyesmryieodue,
must else have fallen under the Zulus' bably do not know, as I do, that when Major Leet here took up on a tired pony a double burden, lie incurred a double risk, for he went into the fight so crippled with a sprained knee that, once dismounted, he could not have made an effort to escape. You have all heard or the valour of my right-hand man ; but I, perhaps, alone can realise the full value of his services."
Sentences like those from the mouth of their own General, and spoken to an enthusiastic public, are as good as grants of Victoria Crosses to the soldiers, sentences of eulogy to be treasured through life and bequeathed to children. And they are uttered amidst excitement, after dinner, without responsibility, and without the check inspired by the sense that the words are being forwarded to superiors who know very nearly exactly the characters of all so. praised. They are as regards the dead claims for honour, and as regards the living claims for promotion, submitted to another tribunal than the Army. We have not a doubt they are all well deserved, for Sir Evelyn Wood can be trusted, and some
of his comrades sat around him ; but he must be well aware that every General of Division who has been successful would not be equally painstaking in the distribution of fame ; and that if this example spread far, wo should witness favouritism of a new and most dangerous, because popular kind, not to mention an increase of the one mischief created by the institution of the Victoria Cross, the exaltation of courage as the quality leading to fame, till every officer is tempted to forget his duty in seeking opportunities of being killed. There are qualities in an officer of the highest value, such as quiet obedi- ence and attention to work which yield nothing but success in the field, which it is impossible to make glitter in a speech, and which will therefore in such speeches always be overlooked, The glitter will by-and-by be sought, and more especially if a spirit of rivalry should break out, and every General of Division be eager to impress upon the country that DO officers could be so gallant, so energetic, or so devoted as those he had the especial honour to command. There is no harm in such an outburst for once, but we con- fess we should not like to see the British Army cease to be a whole, and become a series of groups, each bound to some one General, who sees that they receive their recognition from the country, and when called to service asks for the whole of his accustomed staff as part of his neces- sary machinery. There has been a tendency in that direction lately, which may be merely " modern," and possibly unavoid- able ; but we confess we should like to see a little more feeling that the Army is a whole, that it needs many and good Generals, that they are all content to be invisible beams in the great framework. We have not a Duke of Wellington at the head, or even a Lord Hardinge, but still it would perhaps be better that the distribution of praise and blame should remain with one chief, advised and informed by many Generals, than that each General, once appreciated by the country, should issue a gazette of his own. We suppose it is all in accordance with the modern spirit, the newspapers, and electric telegraphs, and all the rest of it ; but we abandon the old ideal of a despatch, " Met the enemy, and took ships as per margin," with something of a regret. If Sir Evelyn Wood may praise Sir Bartle Frere's policy and Lord Chelmsford's generalship, why may he not censure them,—and where would discipline be then ?
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