Dreadnought

by Robert K. Massie

The change in Downing Street greatly benefitted Fisher by precipitating a much-needed retirement at the Admiralty. A strong First Lord would not have tolerated the schism which had divided the navy and threatened the nation’s security; he would have conducted his own investigation, made a decision, and ordered either Beresford or Fisher to resign. Lord Tweedmouth was not up to it. A journeyman politician who had served Mr. Gladstone as chief Liberal whip, then gone to the Lords as Lord Privy Seal, he had not adjusted easily to the impatient and sometimes irritable Fisher. And when called upon to decide between the competing arguments of the First Sea Lord and the popular and charismatic Lord Charles Beresford, Tweedmouth’s mind began to sag.

  Early in 1908, Tweedmouth’s troubles multiplied rapidly. On February 6, Lord Esher wrote a letter to The Times defending Fisher against a demand by the Imperial Maritime League that the First Sea Lord be removed. At the end of his letter, Esher delivered a powerful blow: “There is not a man70 in Germany from the Emperor downwards who would not welcome the fall of Sir John Fisher.” When the Kaiser read the letter in his copy of The Times, his temperature began to rise. Furious at Esher, he sent a nine-page handwritten letter of complaint to Tweedmouth. “I am at a loss71 to know whether the supervision of the foundations and drains of the Royal palaces [from 1895 to 1902 Esher had served as Permanent Secretary to the Office of Works] is apt to qualify somebody for the judgement of naval affairs in general,” the Emperor wrote with heavy sarcasm. “As far as regards German affairs naval, the phrase is an unmitigated piece of balderdash and has created intense merriment in the circles of those who know here. But such things ought not to be written by people who are highly placed as they are liable to hurt public feelings over here.” The Kaiser’s act in writing directly to a British Cabinet minister created its own disturbance in London. The King, much annoyed, wrote to his nephew:

  My dear William:72

  Your writing to my First Lord of the Admiralty is “a new departure” and I do not see how he can prevent our press from calling attention to the great increase in building of German ships of war which necessitates our increasing our Navy also.

  Believe me,

  your affectionate uncle,

  EDWARD R.

  Tweedmouth, however, infinitely surpassed William in indiscretion. He replied to the Kaiser’s letter by privately sending His Majesty the forthcoming British Naval Estimates without informing the Cabinet and before they were presented in Parliament. Then, addled by flattery, he gossiped about the Emperor’s letter, carried it with him, and showed it around London, even reading parts of it aloud to astonished fellow guests in private drawing rooms. Naturally, the press soon was on his trail and the opposition demanded that, because a foreign monarch was attempting to influence Britain’s Naval Estimates, the Imperial letter be laid before the House of Commons. A few weeks later, Tweedmouth was shunted into the harmless job of Lord President of the Council. There, he deteriorated rapidly. In May, he wrote to Lord Knollys to announce that he had “about 15 young unmarried nieces73 who would be delighted” if the King would join them in staging a little variety entertainment, “very bright but very proper,” with “a stand up supper” to follow. Shocked, Knollys concluded that Tweedmouth’s mind was “seriously unhinged.”74 Reading these documents, the King noted in the margin, “This is very sad75 but explains his extraordinary behavior on so many occasions.”

  Tweedmouth’s replacement was Reginald McKenna, moved to the Admiralty from the presidency of the Board of Education. Having won a First in Mathematics at Cambridge and rowed bow in the Cambridge boat, McKenna seemed, at forty-five, a thin, lithe, “youngish man76 with a bald head covered with down as if he was using a hair restorer.” He made a favorable impression on Fisherites at the Admiralty. Slade thought him “pleasant in manner,77 sharp and quick.” Initially, Fisher worried that McKenna was one of the Liberal naval “economists” who saw the navy only as a place where budgets might be cut to obtain money for social programs. If this were so, Fisher would not agree and become expendable. The King reassured him. “When I agreed78 to McKenna’s appointment,” he wrote to Fisher, “it was on condition that you kept your present post. The Prime Minister never made the slightest objection—on the contrary, he was most desirous that you should remain.”

  For all his quickness, it was bound to take McKenna time to immerse himself in Admiralty affairs. Beresford used this period to carry his feud with Fisher openly into society. Society, it seemed, was entirely on his side, the more so because the jovial and gallant Lord Charles had inherited a considerable fortune on the death of his brother and was able to entertain on a lavish scale in his large house on Grosvenor Street. “Beresford... can do more79 with his chef than by talking,” Fisher noted wryly, and Lord Charles’ drawing room was always filled with society women, ancient admirals, Conservative M.P.’s, and newspaper editors—anti-Fisherites all. Fisher lumped them together as “the Dukes and Duchesses” and told the Prince of Wales that his skin “was like a rhinoceros80 and all the envenomed darts don’t pierce it.” Nevertheless, they hurt. When he retired, he told a friend, he would write his reminiscences and title them “Hell.81 By One Who Has Been There.”

  Throughout his ordeal, Fisher was sustained by a few loyal, highly placed friends. One was Esher, who counseled Fisher to remain calm: “In a country like ours,82 governed by discussion, a great man is never hanged. He hangs himself.” The First Sea Lord’s greatest supporters were the royal couple. Queen Alexandra regularly sent for the Admiral to tell him what was being said in the drawing rooms. The King consistently threw his full weight on Fisher’s side, telling him, “Keep your hair on,”83 and urging him to curb the extravagance of his language and stop insulting his enemies in places where it would get back to them. At one point the King summoned Fisher and lectured him “that I was Jekyll and Hyde!”84 Fisher wrote to Esher. “Jekyll in being successful at my work at the Admiralty—but Hyde as a failure in society! That I talked too freely and was reported to say (which of course is a lie) that the King would see me through anything!” Bravado of this kind, the King declared, “was bad for me85 and bad for him as being a constitutional monarch.” Fisher denied indignantly that he ever said such things and suggested that they were lies concocted by his enemies. Whereupon, “having unburdened his mind... [the King] smoked a cigar as big as a capstan for really a good hour afterwards, talking of everything from China to Peru.” Fisher was grateful for the King’s support and expressed his feelings in extravagant terms: “When Your Majesty backed up86 the First Sea Lord against unanimous Naval feeling against the Dreadnought when she was first designed, and when Your Majesty launched her, went to sea in her, witnessed her battle practice (which surpassed all records), it just simply shut up the mouths of the revilers as effectively as those lions were kept from eating Daniel! And they would have eaten me but for Your Majesty!” On another occasion when the King warned Fisher, “Do you know87 I am the only friend you have?” the Admiral replied with that trace of pixieish impertinence which King Edward found so captivating, “Your Majesty may be right, but, Sir, you have backed the winner!”

  While the new Prime Minister and new First Lord still were getting the feel of their offices, Beresford escalated his vendetta against Fisher. At the Academy Dinner on May I, he attempted to hide from Fisher, but the First Sea Lord discovered him, came up, and insisted on shaking hands. At the Royal Levee at St. James’s Palace on May 11, Lord Charles displayed a shocking public rudeness to his superior. Fisher was standing against a wall, talking to Lloyd George and Winston Churchill. Beresford arrived, bowed to the King, and passed close by the three men. He shook hands and spoke to Lloyd George and Churchill. Fisher put out his hand but Beresford refused to take it and, in full view of everyone present, turned his back on the First Sea Lord. Within a few days, all London and the entire fleet were humming with the story. The King, who along with everyone else had witnessed the affront, denounced the Cabinet as “a pack of cowards”88 for not removing Beresford
immediately.

  Fisher meanwhile was busy making sure of the new First Lord. “What really amounts89 to incipient mutiny is being arranged in the fleet,” he told McKenna on May 16. “Beresford evidently thinks you will... funk.” He urged McKenna to tell the Commander-in-Chief that he could not continue his campaign of criticism in uniform; rather, he should resign, run for Parliament, and—in a political instead of a military forum—attack the Admiralty.

  Fisher (who liked calling Beresford a “gasbag”) put it succinctly: “Either the quarterdeck and silence90 or Westminster and gas.” McKenna quickly agreed with Fisher and tried to get Cabinet approval to relieve Beresford “in the interests of the Naval Service and for the safety of the Empire.” The Prime Minister and other ministers gave “strong objection”91 and nothing was done. “They are all ‘blue funkers’92 about Beresford and overrate his power of mischief and his influence,” Fisher lamented.

  In June, Lord Charles was involved in another incident with Percy Scott which again burst out in the press and stimulated new demands that something be done about the chaotic situation in the navy. The Channel Fleet, accompanied by Scott’s cruiser division, made a summer cruise to Norway. Maneuvering in those waters, Beresford signalled Scott’s division to take a new position astern of the column of battleships led by the flagship King Edward VII. H.M.S. Good Hope, Scott’s flagship, had begun to turn when Beresford hoisted another signal, taking control of the cruisers out of Scott’s hands. The cruiser division now was ordered to turn inward on itself, a maneuver which, had Scott complied, would have rammed Good Hope into H.M.S. Argyle, a repetition of the Victo-ria-Camperdown tragedy. Scott instantly countermanded Beresford’s order and the Commander-in-Chief, once he had grasped the situation, approved the action: “If... the Rear Admiral [Scott] thought93 Good Hope was too close to Argyle the Rear Admiral was right in turning to starboard.”

  Under the heading “A STRANGE OCCURRENCE94 IN THE CHANNEL FLEET,” The Times told the story to the world, and new demands in the press and Parliament rose up against an admiral who, in addition to troublemaking and insubordination, now was endangering the safety of his ships at sea. Beresford’s feud was described as “a gross scandal,”95 “sapping the foundations of dicipline,” “a serious menace to our national security,” and a “sickening tale96 of effeminate sensitiveness and huff.” On July 6, Arthur Lee, a former Unionist Civil Lord of the Admiralty, wrote to The Times that “It can no longer be denied97 that the Commander-in-Chief of the Channel Fleet (who presumably is the Admiralissimo in the event of war) is not on speaking terms with the admiral commanding his cruiser squadron, or with the First Sea Lord of the Admiralty.” The Times, editorializing on Lee’s letter, declared, “We say frankly98 that... Lord Charles Beresford is... in the wrong.... The Commander-in-Chief of the Channel Fleet must be confronted with the historic alternative, submit or resign.”

  Still, nothing was done. To the numerous questions submitted and shouted before the House of Commons, Asquith blandly remarked that the government had no knowledge of the “alleged dissensions” other than “unverified rumours.”99 Beresford used the King’s visit to the Channel Fleet in August as an opportunity to attempt to win the sovereign over by reminding him of their past friendship. “Personally,” he wrote, “I shall never forget100 the day, as Your Majesty’s kindness and charm reminded me so clearly of those happy days gone by which can never be erased from my memory.” The King’s reply was distinctly cool: “My dear Lord Charles Beresford,”101 King Edward began, and went on to express his hope that “nothing may occur to prevent your continuing to hold the high and important position which you now occupy.” The letter was signed “Very sincerely yours.” With the Cabinet refusing to act and the King now worried that, out of office, Beresford would “make a disturbance102 and give trouble and annoyance,” Fisher was becoming frantic. “Knollys [the King’s private secretary] dead on103 for my leaving Beresford alone,” he wrote to Esher. “It’s impossible! You can’t let authority be flouted as he continually flouts the Admiralty. Daily he is doing something traitorous and mutinous.” The poisonous struggle continued until December 1908 when, between them, the First Lord and the First Sea Lord found a way to rid themselves of the Commander-in-Chief. Fisher’s Home Fleet had now grown so much by the incorporation of powerful new ships that it was time to arrange the merger of the Channel and Home fleets. Accordingly, it was decided in December (but not announced until February) that command of the Channel Fleet had been reduced from a three-year to a two-year appointment and, in consequence, Lord Charles Beresford would be giving up his command in March 1909 rather than in March 1910.

  Although at sixty-three he still had two years to go before reaching compulsory retirement age, Beresford hauled down his flag on March 24, 1909. Coming ashore from King Edward VII, boarding a train in Portsmouth, and, later that day, arriving in London, he received the adulation of a great naval hero, home from a victory. The platforms both at Portsmouth station and at Waterloo were massed with admirers who cheered, threw their hats in the air, waved handkerchiefs, and sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”104 Excited and encouraged by this show of support, Lord Charles went immediately on the offensive. On March 26, he called on Balfour. The leader of the opposition had permitted a wary friendship which, by then, had progressed to writing each other as “My dear Arthur” and “My dear Charlie,” but he had no intention of being dragged into a condemnation of Fisher, whom he had installed as First Sea Lord and whom he continued to respect. Balfour’s differences with the Admiralty were political—he had just used the Naval Scarefn2 to hammer the government for more dreadnoughts—and it was blindingly clear to him that much of Beresford’s antagonism was personal. On this occasion, Lord Charles’ purpose was to sound Balfour on the likelihood of an election and the possibility of a new Unionist government. Should this come to pass, he wondered whether he might expect to be appointed First Sea Lord in Sir John Fisher’s place? Balfour easily evaded the question by saying that he did not expect a new election for at least two years. When Beresford then declared that he meant to take his case to the country in public speeches, Balfour advised him first to talk with the Prime Minister.

  On March 30, Beresford saw Asquith and on April 2 he wrote a long letter outlining his case. “During the whole of my tenure105 of the command of the Channel Fleet,” he declared, “that force... has never, even for a day, been equal to the force which it might have to encounter in home waters. During that period, the fleets in home waters have not been organized in readiness for war and they are not organized in readiness for war today.” Unless the government took action, he threatened, he would stump the country, raising alarm. This prospect was disagreeable to Asquith. His Cabinet had just undergone three harrowing months of internal strife related to the German Navy Scare, and the government was about to plunge into the unknown with the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s revolutionary “People’s Budget”; the last thing the Prime Minister wished was a popular admiral stumping the country declaring that the Admiralty was incompetent and the navy impotent. He knew nothing about the navy himself, and McKenna had been First Lord only a year. Accordingly, Asquith appointed a committee. This was a subcommittee of the Committee of Imperial Defence and, as all members were Cabinet ministers, also a subcommittee of the Cabinet. Asquith himself took the chair, and Grey, Haldane, and Morley sat with him. Originally, the Prime Minister also wished to include on the committee Admiral of the Fleet Sir Arthur Wilson, Beresford’s predecessor as Commander-in-Chief of the Channel Fleet and the most experienced and respected blue-water officer in the navy. King Edward agreed, but Beresford objected that Wilson was prejudiced in favor of Fisher, and Asquith yielded.

  Fisher was infuriated by the establishment of the subcommittee. He looked on an inquiry as an insult to the navy, the Admiralty, and himself. Even calling the First Lord and the First Sea Lord to account on the basis of the charges of a subordinate had no precedent in the history of the navy; for the governme
nt to participate in these charges even to the extent of calling an inquiry smacked of deeper humiliation. Fisher spoke of resigning. McKenna argued that this would imply to the public that he feared Beresford’s attack. King Edward remained a bulwark and commanded Fisher not to resign “even under pressure.”106 Fisher, never intending to leave, acquiesced. “I shall of course obey107 His Majesty,” he wrote to Sir Frederick Ponsonby, the King’s assistant private secretary, “but it is almost past belief how Beresford has been pandered to.... The Prime Minister without consulting the Admiralty decides on Sir A. Wilson being a Member of the Committee of Enquiry—a very good decision—but Beresford objects and he is taken off the Committee. Esher is especially invited to serve on the Committee at a personal interview by the Prime Minister and is appointed—Beresford objects and Esher’s appointment is cancelled. Beresford summons as witnesses my own personal staff at the Admiralty to cross-examine them as to the way I conduct business and this is to be allowed.... The object is to discredit me.”

  Even as the committee inquiry was beginning, a powerful private effort to discredit Fisher was under way. Early in May when Admiral Sir Francis Bridgeman arrived in London to join the Admiralty as Second Sea Lord, he went to Grosvenor Street to pay a courtesy call on Lord Charles, who had been his Commander-in-Chief in the Mediterranean. The butler, not knowing that this admiral was different, took his hat and ushered him into a room where seven other admirals, including Lord Charles, were seated around a table, conspiring against Fisher. Astonished, the plotters looked up—then one dropped his pen and crawled under the table to look for it, another turned his back and poked the fire, a third bent over to retie his shoelaces. Lord Charles leaped to his feet and hurried Bridgeman into another room.

  More damaging to Fisher was the hostility of Sir George Armstrong, a former officer and bitter enemy of the First Lord’s, who in speeches and in a letter to The Times revealed that Fisher had received and had had privately printed letters critical of Beresford, from a captain then serving in Beresford’s Mediterranean Fleet. The accusation of espionage—that Fisher placed men in key spots throughout the navy to spy on their superiors—was revived and sensationalized. The basic charge was untrue: only with great reluctance had Fisher permitted his naval assistant, Captain Reginald Bacon, to leave his staff and join Beresford’s command as captain of the battleship Irresistible. It was Bacon, who needed a seagoing command to qualify for promotion, who insisted on the transfer. Once in the Mediterranean Fleet, Bacon—by his own admission—was enthusiastic about many of the qualities of his new chief: “I always look108 upon Lord Charles Beresford as the most charming Commander-in-Chief under whom I ever served,” he wrote. “All his subordinates loved him, for he was an ideal leader of men, and, had he been given a good staff, he would have been a great admiral in wartime; but he was essentially an admiral who was dependent on his staff. His mercurial temperment militated against deep study or concentrated thought, but a natural quickness and alertness of intellect enabled him to seize on important points.”