Gentilcorps—anglicized Noblebody—would be the modern French equivalent. There is an English surname somewhat similar, “Handsomebody,” a name that was found on the Honours List some five or six years ago. Jellicorse is another form of Sir John’s name, and it is doubtless from this that one of the nicknames has been derived which is popular among the men of the Fleet—Jellymould.
Admiral Patton, Second Sea Lord at the time of the Battle of Trafalgar, was Jellicoe’s great grandfather; it is something of a coincidence that at the outbreak of the present World-War Admiral Jellicoe was also Second Sea Lord. Jellicoe’s youngest daughter is called Prudence Patton, and Prudence Patton served King Charles II. faithfully in the troubles and wars that filled that unfortunate monarch’s reign.
Like all popular men in the Service—with the sole exception of Admiral May, who, though loved and respected by everyone, has, like the Springtime, been always “May”—Sir John can boast a multitude of nicknames.
“Jacky-Oh!” “Hell Fire Jack!” (owing to the revolution he made in Naval gunnery), “All-Jelly” (reminiscent of Epsom Race Course on Derby Day, but again due probably to the deadly effect of his ship’s gunnery), “The Little Admiral” (this in polite society), “Silent Jack” and “Dreadnought Jack.”
Jellicoe, as everyone connected with the Navy knows, was a Dreadnought man, and one of Lord Fisher’s most enthusiastic pupils.
The nickname most in favour in the “forecastle” for Sir John is Hell Fire Jack, yet there is nothing of the fire-eating commander or the bold buccaneer in Admiral Jellicoe’s personal appearance. He was always a little boy—his mother and father’s “little boy,” without a doubt—and, physically, he is a little man. Nelson might have been able to give him half an inch in height. And it is worth remembering that the majority of great leaders of men have been small of stature, from Julius Cæsar to Napoleon, Domville, Sir John French or the late great little Lord Roberts.
Marat was insignificant to look at, and the Kaiser, in his socks, hardly suggests the leader of the Race of Nietzsche’s Great Blonde Beasts.
Not only does Jellicoe lack inches, but Nature built him on the lean, light pattern, yet hard as well-tempered steel. He possesses a vast amount of vitality and reserve force.
Time has given his bright, piercing eyes shrewdness and kindliness; they are the eyes of a man who, while he is willing to give all, demands all—or nothing—from those who serve. His nose is long and adventurous rather than Napoleonic.
Quiet as a boy, he has less to say as a man when he is at work. But among his intimate friends he has the reputation of a brilliant conversationalist and a wit, and when Jellicoe speaks those about him listen. At sea he has not the usual flow of highly-coloured language generally associated with those who go down to the sea in ships. A small vocabulary has always sufficed him. His mouth is remarkable; the thin, lightly-compressed lips suggest determination and severity; but they turn up at the corners in a curious way, and one feels instinctively that the disciplinarian has a delicious sense of humour.