Dreadnought, Britain, Germany and the Coming of the Great War

by Robert K. Massie

  Bacon's officers and crews considered themselves an elite corps and, in fleet maneuvers in March 1904, they made a distinct impression. Their "enemy" was the Home Fleet, and they kept hitting Sir Arthur Wilson's proud battleships and cruisers with so many unarmed torpedoes that umpires had to rule two of the surface ships "sunk"-which did not at all please "Tug" Wilson. (Unfortunately, one of Bacon's submarines was rammed and sunk with all hands by a passing merchant ship, which had not been warned that an undersea craft might be lying beneath its bow.) The real lesson of the maneuvers, Bacon reported, was that the presence of submarines "exercised an extraordinary restraining influence on the operations" of a battle fleet: battleships always had to be accompanied by a large screen of destroyers. Fisher enthusiastically pronounced the submarines a huge success: "I don't think it is even faintly realized the immense impending revolution which submarines will effect as offensive weapons of war."

  ! Fisher was looking far ahead. Essentially, until the outbreak of war in 1914, the submarine was still considered a defensive weapon, useful in defending harbors and coastlines in conjunction with mine fields, which they might one day replace. Submarines could establish a mobile defense and make the approach of enemy surface ships extremely hazardous. Strung across a narrow waterway, such as the Straits of Dover or the Strait of Gibraltar, a group of submarines could make passage by enemy ships almost impossible. Bacon was emphatic on the point: "The risks of allowing a large ship to approach such a port [defended by submarines] are so great that I unhesitatingly affirm that in wartime it should never be allowed." This was the beginning of the end of the classic British naval strategy of close blockade of enemy ports. Faced with the likely presence of enemy submarines, British ships could not lie close off enemy harbors waiting to intercept enemy ships or squadrons which ventured out. Instead, the blockading fleet would have to withdraw over the horizon, maintaining only the thinnest screen of surveillance and then, when the alarm had sounded, come thundering up, surrounded, as Bacon had said, by clouds of destroyers to protect the big |hips from the lurking submarines.

  For four months in the autumn of 1903, Fisher sat on a panel whose assignment was to reorganize the British Army. The Boer War had revealed much bumbling in the army and, once the war was over, the Balfour government appointed a Royal Commission to find out what was wrong. Lord Esher was the chairman and Sir Geoirge Clarke and Sir John Fisher the other members. Fisher's selection came as a not unpleasant surprise to him and rather a shock to the Admiralty, which had not been consulted. "Lord Selborne and all the rest seem very jealous at my being selected by the King and Prime Minister, and apparently His Majesty and the P.M. made up their minds without consulting anyone, but that's not my fault," he wrote to his son. "I am the target for envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness." Then, good news: "The King will never forgive anyone who stands in the way of my being on the committee," he reported cheerfully. The Admiralty, whose opposition had been based on its belief that being Commander-in-Chief, Portsmouth, was a full-time job, grudgingly gave way. "The Board will expect me to fulfill all my duties at Portsmouth," Fisher wrote, and he agreed to do so. To facilitate the arrangement, meetings of the Royal Commission were held in Fisher's office on the base.

  If the navy was upset, the army was outraged. Not only was the only professional military officer on the commission an admiral, not a general, but Jacky Fisher was an admiral whose contempt for the army was delivered with the roar of a broadside. Fisher's feelings went back a long way. Thirty-eight years before, as a twenty-four-year-old lieutenant, Fisher had attended a course on musketry at an army school. "I was asked the question, 'What do you pour the water into the barrel of the rifle with when you are cleaning it?' Both my answers were wrong. I said, 'With a tin pannikin or the palm of the hand.' The right answer was 'With care.' " Later, as Director of Naval Ordnance, struggling to regain control of the design of naval guns and the storing of naval ammunition, he said that the War Office "makes my blood boil. Which reminds me of the Colonel of Cavalry who was appointed Controller of Stores to the Indian Navy and some ship expended her main yard as 'carried away.' So he sent down an order that whoever took it away was to bring it back immediately."

  Fisher's view of the army's proper role infuriated the generals, "The Regular Army should be regarded as a projectile to be fired by the Navy," he declared, recommending that battalions of soldiers be stationed aboard warships as they had been in Nelson's time so that they could be trained in amphibious warfare and supplemental naval duties. This would decrease the need or opportunity for army officers to make major decisions; his opinion of their talents and mental abilities was manifested in his little joke: "A prayer for the War Office: 'Give peace in our time, O Lord!' "

  What Fisher learned when he gleefully jumped into the work of the Royal Commission did nothing to change his views. "The military system is rotten to the very core," he wrote. "The best of the generals are even worse than the subalterns because they are more hardened sinners." He wanted the men at the top-"the Old Gang" -swept away en masse and young officers promoted.

  At the end of its review, the Royal Commission advised abolishing the traditional office of Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, a post which had been held for years by Queen Victoria's cousin, the Duke of Cambridge, and replacing it with an Army Council similar to the Lords of the Admiralty. The commission also recommended decentralizing the home army into seven territorial commands. When the report was submitted and presented to the Prime Minister, Fisher insisted that all three commissioners threaten to resign unless the report was adapted in its entirety.

  A personal result of this Royal Commission was Fisher's permanent friendship thereafter with Reginald Brett, Lord Esher, whom he admired immediately and extravagantly. An alliance was formed which, because of Esher's intimacy with the King, was to sustain Fisher through many battles at the Admiralty. Their correspondence crackled with ideas and, on Fisher's side, colorful invective. He blazed away at his enemies, knowing that Esher would chuckle and agree.

  The Commander-in-Chief, Portsmouth, was given a large salary of £4,000 a year with which to extend the Royal Navy's hospitality. London was only an hour and a half away by train, and Fisher seized the opportunity. "We have 550 people coming to a ball here tonight who have been asked," he wrote to Esher, "and have just been told that, another 150 will come who have not been asked." Invitations flowed from Admiralty House to politicians, to journalists, even to royalty; to anyone who could be bent to the navy's-or Jacky Fisher's-purpose. When Fisher was advocating submarines, the Prince and Princess of Wales were invited to Portsmouth. The Prince went to sea in a submarine which submerged. The Princess, watching from an observation ship, was heard to say under her breath, "I shall be very disappointed if George doesn't come up again."

  The premier visitor was, of course, the King, and it was during his command at Portsmouth that Fisher became close to Edward VII. Queen Victoria had been susceptible to the daring captain's impish charms, but she had had little liking for the Admiralty or the navy ever since their refusal to make the Prince Consort an Admiral of the Fleet. Edward, on the other hand, during his long years as Prince of Wales, had made many friends in the navy, was well informed on naval matters, and shared most of the opinions and prejudices of his admirals and senior captains. Fisher, the most colorful and outspoken of the lot, knew a powerful potential ally when he saw one. The King, an expert judge of character, had no difficulty identifying the outstanding officer in his navy.

  Fisher had just taken over the Portsmouth command when he was summoned to spend a week at Balmoral. The King and the Prime Minister had decided to appoint the Admiral to the Royal Commission to reorganize the army and the King wanted a look at Fisher at close quarters. Fisher was as excited and delighted as a child. "My rooms are next the King's," he wrote from the Highlands to his wife, "and his piper plays opposite our windows every morning about eight… I sat next the King at dinner last night and talked to him the whole
time and so as usual didn't get much dinner, but I made up with sandwiches in the evening. They have a most excellent plan of having orangeade and lemonade besides whiskey and soda all put on a side table and the most delicious sandwiches always under a silver cover… always a lot of ham sandwiches… I was out alone with him most of yesterday forenoon, walking about the grounds and he seemed greatly interested in all I told him… You can't think how very friendly the King is." The King gave a ball for Fisher on Friday night and presented him with a pair of white gloves to wear on the occasion. He had a hat especially rushed from London, "so I'm all right for church."

  In that first week of talks, Fisher captured the King's confidence and Edward thereafter backed the controversial Admiral and his policies. Lord Selborne, the First Lord, arrived at Balmoral to find Fisher firmly ensconced in the monarch's affection and about to be appointed to the Royal Commission. "Lord Selborne arrived last night," Fisher told Kitty, "and I am much amused at his asking me to help him by speaking to the King about something he is greatly interested in, as if I was the Grand Vizier or the Sultan's Barber." Even when Fisher's original invitation had expired, the King was reluctant to see him go. "You must stay till Monday," the sovereign urged. "I want more talks with you. Besides, the air does you good."

  A few months later, in February 1904, the King visited Fisher at Admiralty House in Portsmouth. The Admiral pretended to grumble: "I wasn't master in my own house… The King arranged who should come to dinner and… how everyone should sit at the table." But Fisher's cook, a young woman named Mrs. Baker, prepared the meal; the King liked it so much he gave her a brooch. Some time later, Fisher noticed that his soup wasn't up to Mrs. Baker's standards. He asked his butler, who admitted that Mrs. Baker was not in the kitchen. "Sir John, she has been invited by His Majesty to stay at Buckingham Palace." Mrs. Baker's subsequent explanation was that the King had said to her while visiting Portsmouth that he thought she would enjoy seeing how a great state dinner was managed and told her that he would invite her to Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle to see one.

  As Fisher became closer to the King, Esher explained how King Edward's thinking processes worked: "H.M. has two receptive plates in his mind. One retains lasting impressions… The other, only most fleeting ones. On the former are stamped his impression of people and their relative value. On the latter, of things, and these are apt to fade or be removed by later ones. But, and this is the essential point, if you can stamp your image on number one-which you have long since done-you can rely on always carrying your point… The King will not go into details, for his life is too full for that, but he will always say to himself, 'Jack Fisher's view is so and so, and he is sure to be right.' I don't think you need trouble about H.M. for he will always back you."

  Having befriended the King, Fisher also befriended the Queen. At Queen Alexandra's sixtieth birthday party at Sandringham, Fisher discovered that all the other guests had brought prepared remarks to honor their hostess. Fisher had none and so he improvised. "Have you seen that halfpenny newspaper about Your Majesty?" he asked. The Queen said she hadn't and asked what it was. " The Queen is sixty today! May she live till she looks it!' " Fisher declared. Delighted, the Queen asked for a copy. Three weeks later, she reminded him. Staggered for a moment, Fisher recovered and said, "Sold out, Ma'am; couldn't get a copy." Chuckling, he added privately (in his Memoirs): "I think my second lie was better than my first."

  Once in Marienbad, Fisher was deliberately excluded from a luncheon party where the King had expected to find him. Fisher happily described what happened: "The King came in and said 'How d'ye do?' all round, and then said to the host, 'Where's the Admiral?' My absence was apologized for-lunch was ready and announced. The King said 'Excuse me a moment, I must write him a letter to say how sorry I am for the oversight'; so he left them stewing in their own juice… He came back and gave the letter to my friend and said, 'See he gets it directly… tonight.' "

  It helped their friendship that King Edward and Jacky Fisher were born in the same year. The King once told Fisher that his outspokenness would ruin him and Fisher promptly replied, "Anyhow, I am stopping with you at Balmoral and I never expected that when I entered the Navy penniless, friendless and forlorn." What sealed their mutual affection was the honesty, originality, and human warmth each found in the other. Occasionally, Fisher irritated the King. Once, riding in the King's open carriage in London, the Admiral spotted a handsome woman he knew and stood up in the carriage and waved his umbrella. The King was furious at this breach of propriety and gave Fisher a tongue-lashing; later, His Majesty asked the woman to dinner. Fisher also sometimes ran afoul of King Edward's obsessive concern about uniforms and decorations. One night, needing help, Fisher "got the King's nurse to dress me up; she put the ribbon of something over the wrong shoulder, and the King harangued me as if I'd robbed a church."

  Despite these thundershowers, the King was deeply fond of Fisher. "I had four and a half hours alone with him and he was most kind and cordial, and took me to the station finally and saw me off, and told me at parting how much he had enjoyed my company,"

  Fisher wrote to Esher from Carlsbad in September 1904, a few weeks before he became First Sea Lord. That autumn, a scene at Sandringham made the royal affection even plainer. Fisher was invited for the weekend: "As I was zero in this grand party, I slunk off to my room to write an important letter, then took off my coat, got out my keys, unlocked my portmanteau, and began unpacking. I had a boot in each hand; I heard somebody fumbling with the door handle and, thinking it was the footman… I said, 'Come in; don't go humbugging with that door handle!' and in walked King Edward with a cigar about a yard long in his mouth. He said (I with a boot in each hand), 'What on earth are you doing?' 'Unpacking, Sir.' 'Where's your servant?' 'Haven't got one, Sir.' 'Where is he?' 'Never had one, Sir; couldn't afford it.' [The King said,] 'Put those boots down and sit in that armchair.' And he went and sat in the other on the other side of the fire. I thought to myself, 'This is a rum state of affairs. Here's the King of England sitting in my bedroom on one side of the fire, and I'm in my shirt-sleeves sitting in an armchair on the other side!'

  " 'Well,' said His Majesty, 'why didn't you come and say "How do you do?" when you arrived?' I said, 'I had a letter to write and with so many great people you were receiving, I thought I had better come to my room.' Then he went on with a long conversation until it was only about a quarter of an hour from dinner time and I hadn't unpacked. So I said to the King, 'Sir, you'll be angry if I'm late for dinner, and no doubt Your Majesty has two or three gentlemen to dress you, but I have no one.' And he gave me a sweet smile and went off."

  CHAPTER 25 First Sea Lord

  The Second Earl of Selborne had been First Lord of the Admiralty since 1900 when, in the wake of the Khaki Election, Lord Salisbury had reshuffled his Cabinet and promoted Selborne-who was only forty-one but happened to be the Prime Minister's son-in-law-from Undersecretary for the Colonies to responsibility for the navy. Fisher's relationship with Selborne had been contentious but respectful; as Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet, the Admiral had demanded more ships; not getting them, he complained, but always within limits. Selborne recognized Fisher's exceptional qualities. In 1902, he brought the Admiral home as Second Sea Lord; in 1903, he made him Commander-in-Chief, Portsmouth; both assignments were established stepping-stones to the office of First Sea Lord. In May 1904, Selborne went down to Portsmouth to make a formal offer. Fisher relished the moment: "4 days ago Selborne told a friend of mine that he was afraid of me… [but that] my going to the Admiralty was 'simply unavoidable,' " Fisher wrote' to Esher. Fisher seized the offer:' "The die is cast!" he told Esher. "I accepted yesterday on the understanding I commenced work on October 21st (Trafalgar Day!). Nothing like a good omen!"

  Through the summer, Fisher worked hard on the drastic reforms he meant to impose on the navy. On July 30, he spent three and a half hours explaining them to Balfour in the Prime Minister's room in the House of Commo
ns. The following week he was twice with the King on board Victoria and Albert and then the yacht Britannia. On August 17, Selborne came back to Portsmouth to be briefed on Fisher's plans. "Selborne was so cordial and responsive that I made the plunge and with immense success," Fisher wrote to Esher. "He has swallowed it all whole… I sat him in an arm chair in my office and shook my fist in his face for 2 hours without a check. Then he read 120 pages of foolscap and afterwards collapsed!" On August 21, an exultant Fisher wrote to Arnold White, "I am ready for the fray. It will be a case of Athanasius contra Mundum. Very sorry for Mundum as Athanasius is going to win!"

  Within twenty-four hours of Fisher's arrival at the Admiralty on October 21, Britain was close to war with Russia. On the night of the twenty-second, the Russian Baltic Fleet, steaming off the North Sea's Dogger Bank on the first leg of its doomed voyage to the Far East, suddenly found itself surrounded by an unidentified cluster of small boats. Somehow mistaking the craft caught in their searchlights for Japanese torpedo boats, the Russian sailors opened fire. One Hull fishing trawler was sunk and others damaged; two English fishermen were decapitated and several were wounded. The London press screamed for war. "This fleet of lunatics" was the description of one Service journal; the Russians are "no more to be trusted with a battleship than a six year old infant with a new penknife," roared another. As it happened, Fisher had reported to the Admiralty on the twenty-first with severe influenza and a high fever. When the news from Hull arrived, he was home in bed. Hearing that the Cabinet was meeting and that war was in the air, he got up, took a cab to the place of meeting, and demanded to be admitted. Before the Cabinet, he argued against war with Russia, which was France's ally. The enemy, he reminded the ministers, was Germany. The crisis continued for another week. On November 1, Fisher wrote to Kitty, "I've been with the Prime Minister all day, morning and afternoon. It has very nearly been war again. Very near indeed, but the Russians have climbed down again… Balfour a splendid man to work with. Only he, I, Lansdowne and Selborne did the whole thing…"