I began a letter (but diffidence made me stop it) to Sir William Watson the poet, to ask him if he couldn’t give us some such great Hymn for the Nation.

“God Save the King” is worn out. We don’t individualise now. It is as worn out as knee breeches for Court Functions or Gold Lace Coats for Sea Officers.

CHAPTER VI
PUBLIC SPEECHES

I have made four accurately reported public speeches, the fifth one (at Mr. Josephus Daniels’s reception by the American Luncheon Club) is too inadequate to include here. For none of these four speeches had I any notes, except for the one of a hundred words and one of fifty words, both delivered in the House of Lords. The other two were simply and solely my exuberant verbosity, and they must be read with that remark in mind. I was saturated with the subject; and when the Times reporter came and asked me for my speech before I’d made it, I told him with truth that I really didn’t know what I was going to say. I might have been like Thackeray (What a classic case his was!). He was the Guest of Honour. He got up, was vociferously cheered, and was dumb. After a death-like silence he said these words, and sat down:—“If I could only remember what I thought of to say to you when I was coming here in the cab, you really would have had a delightful speech!”

A Group on Board H.M.S. “Standard,” 1909.

1. The Empress Marie of Russia. 2. The Czarina. 3. Sir John Fisher. 4. The Grand Duchess Olga. 5. The Czar.

I.—The Royal Academy Banquet, 1903.

The Navy always readily appreciates the kind words in which this toast is proposed, and also the kind manner in which it is always received. I beg to thank you especially, Mr. President, for your kind reference to Captain Percy Scott, which was so well deserved. He was indeed a handy man. (Cheers.) Personally I have not the same pleasurable feelings on this occasion as I enjoyed last year, when I had no speech to make. I remember quite well remarking to my neighbour: “How good the whitebait is, how excellent the champagne, and how jolly not to have to make a speech.” He glared at me and said: “I have got to make a speech, and the whitebait to me is bête noire, and the champagne is real pain.” (Laughter.) He was so ready with his answer that I thought to myself: “You’ll get through it all right,” and sure enough he did, for he spoke thirty minutes by the clock without a check. (Laughter.) I am only going to give you three minutes (cries of “No.”) Yes. I always think on these occasions of the first time I went to sea on board my first ship, an old sailing two-decker, and I saw inscribed in great big gold letters the one word “Silence.” (Laughter.) Underneath was another good motto: “Deeds, not words.” (Cheers.) I have put that into every ship I have commanded since. (Cheers.) This leads me to another motto which is better still, and brings me to the point of what I have to say in reply to the toast that has been proposed. When I was Commander-in-Chief in the Mediterranean I went to inspect a small Destroyer, only 260 tons, but with such pride and swagger that she might have been 16,000 tons. (Laughter.) The young Lieutenant in command took me round. She was in beautiful order, and I came aft to the wheel and saw there the inscription: “Ut Veniant Omnes.” “Hallo,” I said, “what the deuce is that?” (Laughter.) Saluting me, he said: “Let ’em all come, Sir.” (Great laughter and cheers.) Well, that was not boasting; that was the sense of conscious efficiency—(cheers)—the sense that permeates the whole Fleet—(cheers)—and I used to think, as the Admiral, it will be irresistible provided the Admiral is up to the mark. The Lord Chief Justice, sitting near me now, has kindly promised to pull me down if I say too much! (Laughter.) But what I wish to remark to you is this—and it is a good thing for everybody to know it—there has been a tremendous change in Navy matters since the old time. In regard to Naval warfare history is a record of exploded ideas. (Laughter and cheers.) In the old days they were sailors’ battles; now they are Admirals’ battles. I should like to recall to you the greatest battle at sea ever fought. What was the central episode of that? Nelson receiving his death-wound! What was he doing? Walking up and down on the quarter-deck arm-in-arm with his Captain. It is dramatically described to us by an onlooker. His Secretary is shot down; Nelson turns round and says: “Poor Scott! Take him down to the cockpit,” and then he goes on again walking up and down, having a yarn with his Captain. What does that mean? It means that in the old days the Admiral took his fleet into action; each ship got alongside the enemy; and, as Nelson finely said, “they got into their proper place.” (Cheers.) And then the Admiral had not much more to do. The ships were touching one another nearly, the Bos’un went with some rope and lashed them together so as to make them quite comfortable—(laughter)—and the sailors loaded and fired away till it was time to board. But what is the case now? It is conceivable that within twenty minutes of sighting the enemy on the horizon the action will have begun, and on the disposition of his Fleet by the Admiral—on his tactics—the battle will depend, for all the gunnery in the world is no good if the guns are masked by our own ships or cannot bear on the enemy! In that way I wish to tell you how much depends on the Admirals now and on their education. Therefore, joined with this spirit, of which the remark of the young Lieutenant I mentioned to you is an indication, permeating the whole Service, we require a fearless, vigorous, and progressive administration, open to any reform—(loud cheers)—never resting on its oars—for to stop is to go back—and forecasting every eventuality. I will just take two instances at hazard.

Look at the Submarine Boat and Wireless Telegraphy.
When they are perfected we do not know what a Revolution will come about.