The officers of the Royal Yacht were, by tradition, ear-marked for promotion5, the Sub-Lieutenants7, who were appointed for one season, which practically amounted to only a couple of months, were duly promoted at the end of that time, and generally packed off to sea very soon, as the long half-pay period which existed when I was a young Lieutenant6 had mercifully come to an end. The two Lieutenants of the Yacht[174] remained for two years, and were then promoted, whilst the Commander became a Post-Captain at the end of three years.
And now to say something of my new brother officers, and the ship,—or rather ships,—in which we served. I joined the Royal Yacht in the autumn of 1888 at Portsmouth, where I found my old Admiral, Sir J. Edmund Commerell, installed with his family at Admiralty House as Commander-in-Chief. I was delighted to have the opportunity of renewing my acquaintance with him and making that of Lady Commerell and their daughter. My old Commander of the Narcissus, the late Admiral Sir John Fullerton, was in command of Her Majesty9’s Yacht Victoria and Albert, with the Alberta, Elfin, and Royal George as tenders. He remained in charge of Queen Victoria’s Yachts as Captain and Admiral from 1884 to the day of Queen Victoria’s death, and the last duty he performed afloat was when, in charge of the tiny Alberta, he brought the mortal remains10 of the Great Queen from Osborne, where she died, to Portsmouth on the way to her last resting place at Windsor. He was, for some years afterwards, a Groom-in-Waiting to King Edward, and subsequently an extra Groom-in-Waiting to King George, and died a little over a year ago at his lovely little home at Hamble. Hamble lies up its own little river, which empties itself into the Southampton Water; it is now a fishing village, but, during the old wars, was a famous ship-building place, and many were the line-of-battleships that were launched from the slips there, of which traces can[175] still be seen. It was an ideal place for an old sailor to end his days in.
The Victoria and Albert was my old Madeira acquaintance, and, still as beautiful as ever, and though some thirty years of age when I joined her, nothing more perfect in the way of “lines” had yet been produced by any Naval12 architect. Our Commander was Richard Poore, now Admiral Sir Richard Poore, and the fourth baronet of that name. In after years, besides being Second-in-Command of the Channel Fleet, he was twice a Commander-in-Chief, namely in Australia and at the Nore. The other Lieutenant was Gerald King-Harman, a splendid specimen13 of an Irishman, and brother to the well-known Member of Parliament of that name. He, poor fellow, knowing that he was suffering from a mortal disease, did his best to break his neck out hunting, all to no purpose; he died shortly after his promotion in 1889.
In those days the Victoria and Albert was only inhabited by a small party of caretakers except when she was actually on some cruise, or when the Queen was paying her summer visit to Osborne, during which time the Royal Yacht lay at Cowes in full commission. During the winter stay of the Court at Osborne and during the greater part of the year the officers lived on board the Royal George, the old hulk that had been the Royal Yacht in the days of George IV and King William, and all communication with Cowes was carried on either by the tenders, Alberta and Elfin, or by picket-boat. I loved the old hulk. We were very comfortable, as the officers messed in what had[176] been the Royal apartments. She was tiny, but had been built as a miniature copy of the frigates14 of her day, and had been full rigged. I believe that the last time she was in use as a Royal Yacht was in 1842, when Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort15 paid their first visit to Scotland. On that occasion the Royal Party embarked17 on board the Royal George at Woolwich, and were towed round in her to the port of Leith. I am not surprised, however, that Queen Victoria preferred to make the return voyage on board a steamer belonging to the General Steam Navigation Company, where Her Majesty found that the accommodation was better and more spacious18 than on board the Royal George.
During the Queen’s winter residence at Osborne no leave was given, as it was never known when we might be required, and when the Royal Yacht lay at Cowes, in the summer, the officers were not allowed ashore19 until it had been finally ascertained20 that Her Majesty had no further commands for that day; but when the Court was not at Osborne we had a very easy time. The two Lieutenants used to take it in turn to go on leave, one of them having to live on board the Royal George, but as soon as Morning Prayers had been read there was little or nothing more to do, and there was no trouble about attending such Race Meetings as Sandown and Kempton, which, being on the South-Western Railway line, were easily reached, as indeed was London. At that time I belonged to the Naval and Military Club, and a very cheerful place it was, especially for a sailor. There was one corner of the[177] huge smoking-room,—which is still, I believe, called Besika Bay Corner,—where one was sure to meet one’s old comrades and their soldier friends who had garrisoned22 Malta in the late ’seventies and early ’eighties. And so the time passed agreeably enough, interspersed23, as it was, with a good many trips across the Channel. In the middle of November the Prince of Wales embarked on board the Royal Yacht and was conveyed to Flushing to meet, the then, recently widowed Empress Frederick. Her Imperial Majesty arrived on board with her three daughters and crossed to Port Victoria, where she was met by Queen Victoria and most of the members of the Royal Family, and travelled with them to Windsor. The winter season, commencing, as was general, in the middle of December, was a busier one than usual, for the Empress Frederick had accompanied her mother to Osborne, and there was a great deal of running to and fro to convey the various members of the Royal Family backwards24 and forwards.
In the middle of February 1889 the Queen left Osborne, and some ten days later the Empress Frederick crossed in the yacht to Flushing, with her daughters, on her way home. In early March Queen Victoria embarked for Cherbourg en route to Cimiez. The Victoria and Albert was escorted across the Channel by a veritable procession of yachts, including the Osborne, Alberta, Enchantress (the Admiralty Yacht), and the Galatea (the Trinity House boat). Her Majesty returned to England in April.
Our next trip was at the end of June when we were[178] sent to Antwerp to embark16 the Shah. I remember the late King of the Belgians came to Antwerp to see him off, so I suppose that Oriental Potentate25 had been officially visiting Belgium before coming to England.
The Shah was attended by Sir H. Drummond Wolff, then H.M. Minister at Teheran, and Sir H. Rawlinson, who were with him during the whole of his visit. He also had an enormous retinue26 of Persians for us to embark. Some of them, such as Ali Asmer Asgher Khan, Amin us Sultan, the Grand Vizier, and Prince Malcom Khan, the Persian Minister, and a few others, were no doubt very distinguished27 men; but the tail end of the suite28 seemed to me to consist principally of what the Bluejackets used to call “scallawags.”
On the 1st July we duly arrived at Gravesend, where the Prince of Wales boarded us, to welcome the Shah, and then up the Thames we went and the real fun began. The river, of course, swarmed30 with excursion steamers, and the one idea of the excursionists was to try and keep alongside the Royal Yacht, and as near as possible, so as to get a sight of the Shah. This congestion31 of passenger boats, all overcrowded with sight-seers was extremely dangerous, and as the smallest collision would have sunk any of those lightly-built craft, an accident would have resulted in an appalling32 loss of life. As usual the men in charge of these boats behaved very badly and took great risks, but it meant a harvest for them in the shape of tips from their passengers, and human nature being what it is, it would be ridiculous to blame them, and as,[179] moreover, thanks to good luck, no accident happened, there was no harm done. The Royal party eventually landed in a sort of glorified34 steam-launch at Westminster Steps.
In the middle of July, the Queen went, as usual, to Osborne, but her visit there was broken by a journey she had to make to London to enable her to be present at the wedding of Princess Louise of Wales and the late Duke of Fife on the 27th. Two days after Her Majesty’s return to Osborne, the Royal Yacht conveyed the Shah there to take leave of the Queen, and thence to Cherbourg. Meanwhile, a large Fleet had assembled at Spithead, under the command of Sir J. Edmund Commerell, Commander-in-Chief at Portsmouth, so that the Shah on his way to Cowes might be enabled to see something of the British Navy. I am bound to say that he did not appear to be in the least impressed. He firmly declined to come on deck, and obviously disliked the noise of the salute35. In fact, he took no notice of the Fleet whatever. My old friend, the late Mr. Bennett Burleigh, the well-known War Correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, had by some mysterious means managed to smuggle36 himself on board the Royal Yacht. I have an idea that the late General Sir John McNeil, then on board as one of the Queen’s Equerries, had rather connived37 at his presence, for he and Sir John had been old cronies and campaigners together. However, being there, he behaved with the most commendable38 tact39, and had not ventured near the saloon where the Shah had ensconced himself, and consequently had to rely on second-hand40 information. I, being on duty,[180] was in the immediate41 vicinity, and so was duly pumped by my friend.
“What a splendid sight the salute was! I am sure the Shah must have been greatly impressed. What did he say?”
As I have already written, the Shah paid no attention whatever to the Fleet, but, thinking that he ought certainly to have made some sort of remark, I gravely answered that His Majesty had said: “Wah, Wah, Allah is great, and the English are a mighty42 nation,” which I thought would do just as well for the readers of the Daily Telegraph as anything else. I am rather afraid that Mr. Burleigh was too old a hand to be caught, and greatly doubt whether the imaginary ecstasies43 of the Shah were ever published.
That particular season at Cowes was an interesting one, for it was in 1889 that the Kaiser made his first descent on Cowes in the shape of a visit to his grandmother, Queen Victoria. He arrived on August 3rd, and with his usual arrogance44, or perhaps to save himself from paying their board in Germany while he was in England, he brought over an immense and entirely45 unnecessary suite. Osborne, and all its little dependencies, were strained to the utmost to house this swarm29 of locusts46, and even then an overflow47 party had to be put up on board the Royal Yacht. This was the first occasion that I had ever come into contact with any number of Germans, and I have heartily48 disliked them ever since. To my mind, even on a pre-war standard, there is nothing good to be said about them. I detest49 all their ways and works,[181] their eternal bows, and clicking of heels, and the equally eternal shaking of hands, and impertinent inquiries50 about one’s digestion51. Moreover, they have the odious52 habit of leaving sheaves of visiting cards in all directions. We were thirteen officers on board the Royal Yacht, and when our unbidden guests insisted on leaving a card apiece upon us it literally53 made up one or more packs to be littered about. In view of our present experience of them, I think that I can congratulate myself on a certain amount of prescience in the detestation with which they, one and all, inspired me so many years ago.
Other visitors, temporarily lodging54 on board the Royal Yacht, were Admiral of the Fleet Sir Geoffrey Hornby, who was in attendance on the young Kaiser during his visit, Sir Henry Keppel and Captain Stephenson, both of whom were in attendance on the Prince of Wales.
The whole visit was not only an interesting one, but made a very picturesque55 show from a naval point of view. The Emperor arrived in his yacht with an escorting squadron of the German Fleet (then very much in its infancy), one of the squadron, a cruiser named the Irene, being commanded by his brother, Prince Henry. There was a huge Fleet at Spithead, and Cowes was, if possible, more full of yachts than ever, and in addition there were anchored in the roads a few British battleships and torpedo-boats, one of these small craft being commanded by H.R.H. Prince George of Wales. The Prince and Princess of Wales were, of course, on board the Royal Yacht at Osborne,[182] at the usual moorings just inshore of the Victoria and Albert.
The Prince of Wales went out in the Osborne to meet the Emperor and his squadron, and, on his way, his yacht was most shamefully56 mobbed by a horde57 of excursion steamers that had been hired for the occasion by the holiday folk who very naturally infest58 the Isle59 of Wight and South Coast at that season. The Commander of the Osborne only succeeded in keeping them off at a less dangerous distance by threatening to pump water over them with the steam fire hose.
The Prince went on board the Kaiser’s yacht as soon as she arrived, and later landed at Osborne to be with the Queen when the Emperor arrived at Osborne House. The usual Cowes Regatta was in full swing during the week or so that the visit lasted, and such crowds filled the streets that there literally was barely standing60 room in the queer little town. The only functions I remember were a parade review of the German seamen61 that was held in the grounds at Osborne, a dinner party that was given by the Queen to the officers of the German Fleet on board the Victoria and Albert, and a review of the Fleet by the Emperor. As concerns the review, the Kaiser and his brother, Prince Henry of Prussia, came on board the Victoria and Albert, where the Prince and Princess of Wales and all the members of the Royal Family at Osborne had already established themselves, and the yachts then proceeded to pass through the lines of the Fleet at Spithead. The ships were “manned” in the usual way and salutes62 were fired. The Royal Yacht then[183] anchored in the vicinity of the Howe, which battleship was flying the flag of the Commander-in-Chief, Sir J. Edmund Commerell, to enable the Admirals and Captains to come on board and be presented to the Emperor. It was a fine show for those days, and the Fleet, including, as it did, thirty-eight First Class Torpedo-boats, was flying altogether one hundred and twelve pennants63. I remember well the ill-concealed envy exhibited by the Kaiser, his brother, and their surroundings, for in those days the German Navy was a very small affair. Meanwhile, Queen Victoria, on the little Alberta, steamed through the lines of the German Fleet, an operation which did not take long, as they numbered just under a dozen, great and small.
The dinner on board was beautifully done by the servants who were sent from Osborne for the purpose, and during its progress I, as one of the least important of the hosts, found myself seated between two German officers, more or less of the same insignificant64 rank as myself. In the process of making conversation during the long dinner and evening, I did glean65 one piece of information that delighted me. Somehow, the topic of Marryat and his naval novels cropped up, and to my great astonishment66 I discovered that these Germans could have passed a very searching examination in Marryat, and had Mr. Midshipman Easy, and the immortal67 Boatswain, Mr. Chucks, at their finger-ends. When I expressed surprise at this, they confessed that, having no naval literature of their own, they had to fall back on ours. There was yet another surprise in store for me later on, when I was to see these perfect[184] examples of officers and gentlemen (?) filling their pockets with the cigars that were handed to them to smoke! However, all these little incidents are specimens68, I suppose, of what their admirers call “German thoroughness.”
After the German Invasion had come to an end, Cowes began to empty itself, and the Royal Yachts and the guardship (there was always a guardship in the roads when the Queen was at Osborne), were left in almost solitary69 grandeur70, and now that there was room to move about freely, Cowes became quite a pleasant place. Our duties were not very exacting71. There were occasional return trips to Southampton and Portsmouth to bring over or take back the Queen’s visitors in one of the tenders, and every other day it was my duty to walk up to Osborne, take luncheon72 with the household and ascertain21 whether her Majesty had any commands.
About the middle of September the Court moved to Balmoral, the Queen crossing as usual in the Alberta, and we officers took up our quarters again on board the Royal George, the great bulk of the ship’s company, as usual, going back to the dockyard to work as riggers. And so ended my first season at Cowes as a Lieutenant of Her Majesty’s Yacht.
In December, when the Court as usual moved to Osborne, leave came to an end, and the constant trips across the Solent conveying Her Majesty’s numerous royal guests,—including, amongst many others, the Empress Eugenie,—kept us busy until the return of the Court to Windsor in the middle of January. A month later the Royal Yacht embarked Her Majesty[185] for her usual spring visit to the Continent, and at the end of April we were at Flushing again to embark the Queen on her return to Windsor.
Our next trip was on a rather more extended scale, as in the middle of July we were ordered to embark the Empress Frederick, and her two (then) unmarried daughters, Princesses Victoria and Margaret, and convey them to Gibraltar, where they proposed being transported to the Surprise for conveyance73 to Athens, the reason for the visit being, I believe, the expected accouchement of the other daughter, the Duchess of Sparta, a lady of whom, as Queen of the Hellenes, the British public has heard a good deal since. By the 2nd of August we were back at Cowes again for the usual summer season, and two days later the Kaiser arrived in the Hohenzollern, accompanied by the inevitable74 Prince Henry. This visit was of a more private nature than the one of the year before, and, I expect greatly to the relief of all concerned on this side of the North Sea, only lasted for four days. During a part of the season there was an Austrian squadron lying at Spithead, commanded by an Admiral Hincke, the Archduke Karl Stephan being in command of one of the ships of the squadron, the Kaiser Franz Josef. While this squadron was in the vicinity of Cowes, Queen Victoria inspected it by steaming between the lines in the Alberta.
About the middle of August the Empress Eugenie arrived at Osborne on a visit to the Queen, and thereby75 hangs a tale:
The Queen had decided76 to have some private[186] theatricals77 and tableaux78 vivants, organised at Osborne during the Empress’s stay there, and on the evening the performance was given a few notabilities in the neighbourhood and some of the officers of the Royal Yacht had the honour of being invited. The day before the entertainment took place I received a sudden order to go to Osborne, and on arriving there was told that one of the dramatis person? had suddenly been taken ill, and that I was to take that gentleman’s place. Mercifully there were no words to learn, and I only had to dress up and form one of the representants of the various pictures. The three most elaborate displays, with which the performance ended, were a series of large set-pieces representing Twelfth Night (in a general and not a Shakespearean sense), Queen Berengaria interceding80 with King Edward for the Burghers of Calais, and the Garden Scene from Faust. All these pictures were very beautifully “dressed,” and the great Mr. Clarkson arrived from London to make up the faces of the performers and arrange their wigs81. In “Twelfth Night,” Princess Louise Marchioness of Lorne, Princess Henry of Battenberg, Lady Feodor Gleichen, and one or two other ladies were amongst the revellers, to say nothing of more than an equal number of men. This one I saw from the front, and though very pretty, I remember thinking it was a little crowded. In the next I took a part, and so can give no opinion upon it. Princess Louise again was in the Tableau79, and made a very beautiful Queen Berengaria; the late Sir Henry Ponsonby, in a magnificent suit of armour82 from Windsor, was the King; Lord Stamfordham, then Colonel Arthur Bigge, was[187] one of the Burghers; Colonel Sir H. Legge, then Captain Harry83 Legge, and I were amongst the knights84 in attendance, and Mr. Victor Biddulph, who died quite recently, wonderfully made up as to tonsure86, was the attendant priest.
In the Garden Scene from Faust, Princess Beatrice took the part of Marguerite, with Lady Southampton as Martha; Harry Legge was Mephistopheles, whilst I, in my capacity as an understudy, had to represent Faust. I am afraid that this tableau was not altogether a success, for as soon as the curtain went up, I heard the Empress Eugenie, who was naturally seated next to the Queen, ask in a very audible voice, “Mais, qui est, donc, ce petit Faust?” The unfortunate “petit Faust” in question shook to such an extent with suppressed laughter that the whole stage quivered, and the picture in general could only be described as wobbly.
After the performance there was a great supper for the dramatis person? and the guests in general, and I am bound to say that, though I went to Osborne with considerable trepidation87, I finished up by spending an extremely agreeable evening.
A week or two later, at the end of August, the Queen left for Balmoral, and the following week I was promoted to the rank of Commander.
And so, in September 1890, after about twenty years’ service as boy and man, I became, for quite a considerable time, a free agent, as a Commander on the munificent88 half-pay of eight shillings per diem,—and a very pleasant time it was. In the spring of 1892 I had been fortunate enough to be elected a[188] member of the Turf Club,—in those days, to my mind, much the most agreeable Club in London. The Turf Club was then, perhaps, at its very best. Socially it was extremely pleasant, the majority of the members being principally engaged in amusing themselves. All the best of the racing89 men belonged to it, and nearly all the men prominent in sport of all kinds made it a place of rendezvous90, whilst in addition, it was much patronised by the leading Foreign Diplomatists, and our own Politicians of the best sort. A good deal of whist was played there, and nothing was more usual than to cut into a rubber where the other players might well be a Foreign Ambassador, some notable Politician, and the youngest-joined Guardsman, so altogether it was eminently91 many-sided. Though, from its name, most people had an idea that no conversation ever took place there except on the one topic of racing, nothing was further from the fact. When such men as the late Duke of Devonshire, Lord Russell of Killowen, and Lord James of Hereford (to mention only a very few) were constantly,—indeed almost daily,—to be met there, it was pretty obvious that there were other interests as well as racing connected with the Club, and that it was something more than merely a place for idle men of fashion. In those times it was a very late establishment, for, on most nights, returning from balls and parties, a number of us would put in there for an hour or so before going to bed.
Another very delightful92 Club that had just been established, though one of a very different nature, was[189] the unfortunately short-lived Amphitryon Club in Albemarle Street. It was started by a number of well-known men, prominent amongst whom were the late Lord Randolph Churchill, the Marquis de Soveral, and the present Lord Chaplin. Though on the lines of the best sort of French Café, it was a Club to the extent that there was a small entrance fee and subscription93, and a ballot94 for members. The Ma?tre d’H?tel, one Emile Aoust, had been at Bignon’s and thoroughly95 understood how to provide his clients with the best of everything. As well as the restaurant downstairs, there were several apartments upstairs, where large and small private dinner parties could be given, and had it only been really well managed it might have lasted for ever. Unfortunately Emile, though he thoroughly understood food, knew nothing about finance, and after about five years of existence the Club had not much to show except debts. Consequently the establishment had to be wound up, and a grievous pity it was. It was a delightful place for dinners or luncheons96, and, moreover, members were allowed to entertain ladies there for meals, so it was an enormous convenience for the real Londoner. The worst of Emile’s system was that his prices were rather too varied97. The regular habitués were not at all badly treated, for, though it was very expensive, the best food is very expensive, so there was not much to complain of; but occasionally, when dealing98 with members who did not understand his ways, his prices were really rather remarkable99. I remember that he succeeded in losing the custom of a very good client by charging him sixteen shillings for[190] a solitary baked apple. No doubt the apple was the very best of its sort, but even then, it was rather more than any man could stand who might happen to notice this detail, half-way down the long bill for a dinner for some eight or ten guests. However, with all his faults, Emile was a real artist, and I am by no means the only one of his old customers who constantly deplores100 the fact that he is no longer with us, and that the Amphitryon Club is a thing of the past.
Whilst on the subject of London Clubs, it was about this time that I was fortunate enough to survive the ordeal101 by ballot and be elected a member of the Beefsteak Club. The activities of that charming little establishment have been terribly hampered102 by the paternal103 legislation rendered necessary by the war, but when I first joined, it used to begin to fill at a much later hour than that at which it now empties itself, in these supperless times. In the past it had been essentially104 a Night Club, the Annual General Meeting being held about midnight, that being the sort of hour when the majority of members used to arrive. Perhaps it was at its gayest and best when, after a first performance at some popular theatre, the “first-nighters” used to flock in to discuss the new play that had just been produced, and join up with the members who had remained on after dinner. I can hardly remember any place where I have heard such “good talk” as I have there, and “good talk” of the most varied kind, ranging from frank Bohemianism to the political history of England in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The sort of typical gathering105 that occurs to my memory when[191] still at our old home, where the new portion of Charing106 Cross Hospital now stands, would be composed somewhat as follows; and though many of them have joined the great majority, I am sure that they are not forgotten by their old Club-mates. To give them the names by which they were best known:—Archie Wortley, the principal founder107 of the Club; the “Pelican,” the name to which Pellegrini was expected to answer; Arthur Blunt; Corney Grain; the “Beetle,” otherwise Harry Kemble; Johnny Giffard; that most delightful of men, Joe Knight85, then dramatic critic of the Morning Post, and also a great bibliophile108; and Joe Comyns Carr, perhaps the wittiest109 of them all. These have all passed away, but amongst the habitués of the early ’nineties there are still left such men as Willie Elliot, Harry Higgins, Cecil Clay, Marshall Hall, and one or two others. I forget exactly when we moved into our new premises110 in Green Street, Leicester Square, but it must have been a good many years ago, and I do not know that the “talk” in the new house is not as good as it was in the former one, when the survivors111 of the old gang are reinforced by Leonard Courtney, John Scott Montagu (now Lord Montagu of Beaulieu), Seymour Hicks, Perceval Landon, Charles Whibley, and, until his death, the deeply regretted Harry Cust, perhaps the most brilliant man in England.
Another popular personage in London Society who died recently and was a great frequenter of the Beefsteak was the late Count Benckendorff, for many years Russian Ambassador in London. He did not often leave London, and there was hardly a night that he did[192] not come in for an hour or so for a cigar and a chat before going to bed. He was always a very kind friend to me, and I knew him pretty well. He made himself extremely agreeable at the Club, and besides being a wonderful linguist112 (he really spoke113 English like an Englishman), he was a mine of information about every sort of subject, and I am convinced would have taken “full marks” for any “English History Examination Paper,” if he ever saw such a thing. Outside his own family, I am sure that in no coterie114 was his death more sincerely mourned than in that, composed of the members of the Beefsteak Club.
In the course of that winter I managed to get a little hunting. Lord Manners, who had married one of my cousins, a Miss Hamlyn Fane,[3] had been lately Master of the Quorn, and was then living at Cold Overton, the well-known Leicestershire hunting-box. With the aid of a few hirelings and the kindness of my host I succeeded in condensing a good deal of sport into the ten days’ visit. It was at Cold Overton that I first made the acquaintance of the present Mrs. Asquith, then Miss Margot Tennant, who was hunting from there for the season. Our host always hacked115 to the meet, and used to place a dog-cart at the disposal of Miss Margot and myself. With such a companion the long drive to the various meets which we attended formed quite an agreeable part of the day’s sport. In those days Miss Margot Tennant was as brilliant a[193] performer over the country as she was a conversationalist, and her very numerous friends will, I am sure, fully8 endorse116 this statement.
My half-pay time came to an end in the spring of 1891, when I joined the Staff of the Naval Intelligence Department. This Department was quite new, and Captain Cyprian Bridge, my old Commander of the Audacious, the then Director, was only the second to hold the appointment, the first holder117 of that office having been Captain Hall. Curiously118 enough his son, Rear-Admiral Sir Reginald Hall, M.P., was one of the most conspicuous119 successes of the late war when in charge of that same Department. So completely civilian-ridden was the old Whitehall building then, that this very important Department was looked upon as a part of the Civil Service of the Admiralty, in spite of the fact that its Director was either an Admiral, or a very senior Captain, who had working under him two more Captains as Assistant-Directors, four Commanders as Naval Staff, and four Marine120 Officers as Marine Staff. When I went there first, I expected to find the work extremely interesting; but, as in all other offices, it soon turned out that it mainly consisted in a sort of regular routine. Indeed, during the two years which I spent there, I can only remember three or four really illuminating121 jobs which came my way. Towards the end of my time there, my particular business was to look after the Navies of France and Russia, as regards ships in commission and reserve, and building programmes. This entailed122 a great deal of reading of French newspapers and magazines,[194] but with Russian literature I could not cope, and everything had to be translated for me. Lord Fisher was then on the Board as a Rear-Admiral, and in that capacity I suppose had to assist in the preparation of the Estimates. I remember being told to supply their Lordships with a statement of the combined strength of the Navies of France and Russia, against which had to be shown, ship by ship, our own Navy. I was given the hint that, the object being to wring123 more money for more ships out of the Chancellor124 of the Exchequer125, I was to make out as formidable a list as I could of our then possible enemies. Naturally, I did as I was told, and no old lame33 duck was too obsolete126 to be trotted127 out for the occasion. Personally I was convinced that the device was too transparent128 to deceive a child, let alone such an old political hand as was Sir William Harcourt, the then Chancellor of the Exchequer. To my secret delight, my precious report came back with the Chancellor’s own annotations129 on it, and very much to the point they were. I felt that with all the knowledge of those Fleets that I had at the moment, I could not have made a better selection of the obsolete and useless vessels130 than did the Chancellor with his blue pencil.
It is curious in these days to remember that in the early ’nineties our bugbear was a combination of France and Russia against us, especially from a Naval point of view, the German Navy being then still almost negligible.
One fine morning, on seating myself at my table, I found a new and rather formidable-looking volume[195] awaiting me, to be dealt with in the ordinary course of the day’s work. It turned out to be Mahan’s Influence of Sea Power on History, and though the book itself had been completed at least a year before, I fancy that mine was almost the first copy to reach England from America. It being my duty to read it, I commenced at once, and except for a pause at luncheon time, never put it down until I had devoured131 the whole work. This task having been performed, I at once went to see my Chief and told him that, whether he could spare the time or not, it was absolutely incumbent132 upon him to read it himself, as, in my judgment133, the general theory that the book inculcated was so admirably expounded134 that it was of the greatest value to any one who was entrusted135 with a portion of the care of the defences of the British Empire. My Chief complied with my request, and that great work and its successors have become classics, not only for the navies of the world, but also for the general readers of all nations.
All this time I was rapidly developing into a complete Cockney, and thank Heaven I have been a confirmed one ever since. Out of office hours there were pleasant luncheons either at the Amphitryon or at one’s friends’ houses, and a possible week-end visit, though week-end visits in those days were few and far between, the fashion for them having hardly come in.
The very pleasantest dinners I can remember, were then given in a corner house of Great Cumberland Place by one of my kindest friends, Consuelo Duchess[196] of Manchester. She had not only a passion for entertaining, but was a wonderfully successful entertainer. When I first made her acquaintance, she was no longer very young, but still a very pretty woman (in her youth I believe she had been quite lovely). But what is almost as attractive as beauty is wit, and that she possessed136. Quick as lightning, seeing the humorous side of everything, she also had a fund of American and Cuban stories which used to delight us all. The usual London dinner party generally breaks up about 11. Hers often lasted till the small hours, for when the early birds amongst her guests had taken their flight at about the usual time, the rest of us gravitated towards the piano, and there our hostess used to enchain us literally for hours, for she was an admirable musician, and when not playing would be telling us stories. The last two or three men in the party were usually turned into the street in a little group about three in the morning. One of her recipes for a successful London dinner party I well remember. She said there were three indispensable ingredients—a Duchess, a Beauty, and a ham! Alas137! she died long before her time in 1909, and, short as is the memory of the world, her friends still miss her, not only out of genuine affection, but because, with her the gaiety, if not of nations, at any rate of a large section of London cosmopolitan138 Society, became partially139 eclipsed.
Photo: A. Debenham, Cowes]
ON BOARD THE ROYAL YACHT “VICTORIA AND ALBERT”
H.M. Queen Alexandra H.M. King Edward
Another very kind hostess of mine about that time was Lady Georgina Curzon, who died shortly after the termination of the South African War.[197] In those days she and her husband, the present Lord Howe, entertained principally at the charming little villa11 residence, Woodlands, that they had made for themselves in the neighbourhood of Uxbridge. Lady Georgina, who was a very fine whip, as well as a good horsewoman, used to delight in driving a coach-load of friends to all the neighbouring race meetings, such as Kempton, Sandown, Windsor and Hurst Park, all of which were within comfortable driving distance from Woodlands. The parties were not exclusively for racing, for, looking over an old photograph book, I came across a group which included, amongst others, Jean and édouard de Reszke. Indeed, I am not sure that I did not meet these accomplished140 brothers for the first time at her house. Later on, when her husband, the present Lord Howe, had succeeded to the title, they entertained on a very large scale at Gopsall, where I was also a constant guest.
Lady Georgie, as her friends always called her, was a real personality. She combined great physical energy and strength (she was a most fearless rider to hounds, and no day in Leicestershire was too long for her) with the brains and driving-power of the Churchills. She threw herself into the work of running the Yeomanry Hospital that was started during the South African War with the same boundless141 energy that always characterised her. Principally owing to her exertions142 it was most successfully conducted, and though she was really in failing health at the time, nothing would induce her to give up her work,[198] and she died shortly after the Peace was signed. No more gallant143 spirit ever existed.
Early in March 1893, the late Rear-Admiral Stephenson, who has been mentioned before in these Recollections, hoisted144 his flag as Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Station at Portsmouth, the Royal Arthur, then a brand-new cruiser, being his flagship. Somewhere about the end of the month, I received a message from Prince Louis of Battenberg, who was then Naval Adviser145 to the Inspector-General of Fortifications, informing me that the Prince of Wales desired me to go to Portsmouth in attendance, as His Royal Highness was losing his regular Naval Equerry in the person of Admiral Stephenson. The occasion was the inspection146 of the Royal Arthur, before that ship sailed for the Pacific. I duly got myself into uniform and met the Prince at Victoria Station. Prince Louis of Battenberg also went down. He had been Second in Command to the Admiral when the latter commanded the old Dreadnought, so it was quite in the fitness of things that he should travel to Portsmouth with the Prince to wish his old Captain good-bye. After the inspection, just before getting into the train to return to London, Prince Louis told me, to my intense surprise, that His Royal Highness had deputed him to tell me that he wished me to join his Staff as one of his Equerries-in-Waiting. So complete was my ignorance of anything connected with Court appointments that I told Prince Louis that, while being greatly honoured, I felt obliged to decline as I was compelled to go on steadily at[199] my profession, being too poor to leave the Service and live permanently147 in England. I then learned, what I had no notion of until that time, that the post of Equerry carried a salary with it, which, in addition to my half-pay, would be quite equal to anything I could earn as Commander in the Navy, and that the Prince was quite content that I should remain in the Navy, and if necessary serve again in order to keep my name on the active list. Naturally, having learnt this, my only cause for hesitation148 vanished into thin air, so, to my great delight, I was duly appointed as Equerry-in-Waiting, and left the Admiralty, where I had served for about two years.
For the next seventeen years, until the day of his death—to me the saddest day I have ever known—I remained on his Staff as Equerry, and took my regular turn in waiting; and was thus a personal servant to the kindest and most considerate of masters that ever a man was fortunate enough to serve. From the late King and his family, during all those years, and in the years that have passed since, I received, and indeed still continue to receive, such unfailing kindness that I do not propose even to dwell on it; it would be hard to write on the subject without expressing a gratitude149 that, on paper, might almost appear fulsome150.
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1
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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hoisting
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| 起重，提升 | |
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promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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lieutenants
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| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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frigates
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| n.快速军舰( frigate的名词复数 ) | |
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consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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garrisoned
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| 卫戍部队守备( garrison的过去式和过去分词 )； 派部队驻防 | |
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interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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potentate
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| n.统治者；君主 | |
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retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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smuggle
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| vt.私运；vi.走私 | |
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connived
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| v.密谋 ( connive的过去式和过去分词 )；搞阴谋；默许；纵容 | |
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commendable
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| adj.值得称赞的 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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46
locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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47
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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49
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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50
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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51
digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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52
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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53
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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54
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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55
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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56
shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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57
horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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58
infest
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| v.大批出没于；侵扰；寄生于 | |
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59
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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60
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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61
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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62
salutes
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| n.致敬，欢迎，敬礼( salute的名词复数 )v.欢迎，致敬( salute的第三人称单数 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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63
pennants
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| n.校旗( pennant的名词复数 )；锦标旗；长三角旗；信号旗 | |
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64
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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65
glean
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| v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
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66
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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67
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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68
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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69
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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70
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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71
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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72
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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73
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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74
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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75
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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77
theatricals
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| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
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78
tableaux
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| n.舞台造型，（由活人扮演的）静态画面、场面；人构成的画面或场景( tableau的名词复数 )；舞台造型；戏剧性的场面；绚丽的场景 | |
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79
tableau
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| n.画面，活人画（舞台上活人扮的静态画面） | |
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interceding
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| v.斡旋，调解( intercede的现在分词 )；说情 | |
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81
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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82
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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83
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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84
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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85
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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86
tonsure
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| n.削发；v.剃 | |
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87
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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88
munificent
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| adj.慷慨的，大方的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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91
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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ballot
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| n.（不记名）投票，投票总数，投票权；vi.投票 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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96
luncheons
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| n.午餐，午宴( luncheon的名词复数 ) | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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deplores
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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107
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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108
bibliophile
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| n.爱书者；藏书家 | |
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109
wittiest
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| 机智的，言辞巧妙的，情趣横生的( witty的最高级 ) | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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linguist
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| n.语言学家；精通数种外国语言者 | |
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113
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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coterie
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| n.(有共同兴趣的)小团体，小圈子 | |
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115
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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endorse
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| vt.(支票、汇票等)背书，背署；批注；同意 | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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exchequer
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| n.财政部；国库 | |
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obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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127
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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annotations
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| n.注释( annotation的名词复数 )；附注 | |
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vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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expounded
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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144
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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145
adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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146
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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147
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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148
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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149
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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150
fulsome
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| adj.可恶的，虚伪的，过分恭维的 | |
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