GROUP ON BOARD H.M.S. “SURPRISE”
| Hon. Mrs. Menson | H.R.H. Duke of Edinburgh | H.R.H. Prince George of Wales | |||
| Marquis of Lorne | Com. Hon. M. Bourke | H.R.H. Duchess of Edinburgh | |||
| Lt. Hon. S. Fortescue | H.R.H. Princess Charlotta of Saxe-Meiningen | ||||
One of our new Captain’s earliest jobs was to convey the Duke and Duchess to Venice, and we lay, I think, for nearly a fortnight off the Lido. It really was an ideal way of visiting Venice, and though I had been there before, and have seen it many times since, it certainly was one of my happiest remembrances of that most entrancing of cities. To begin with, the surroundings of the Lido make an ideal berth for a yacht. Being outside the mouth of the Grand Canal, there is plenty of air, and the open water is clearer and cleaner than that in the narrower parts of the canal system. It is not only a convenient place from which to go sight-seeing, but it is near the famous bathing-place. Moreover, there was a very pleasant party on board. The guests were Prince George of Wales, Princess Charlotte of Saxe Meiningen, and the late Duke of Argyll; Lady Monson, then the Honourable Mrs. Monson, being in attendance on the Duchess.
Another very delightful trip the Surprise made was to the Riviera, to enable the Duchess to see something of her numerous relations and friends who were wintering there. Cannes, Nice and Monte Carlo at that time literally swarmed with Russians. It seemed as if half the Imperial Family had quartered themselves on that sunny coast. The Russian aristocracy, like any other conglomeration of individuals, may not have been a faultless institution; but, individually and collectively, I have always found the members of it the most agreeable people in the world. Free from prejudice, very cosmopolitan, speaking every language with equal facility, and entirely (to use an American expression) “without frills.” No foreigners I have ever met are so easy to get on with, for they have the knack of putting even the shyest and most insular of Englishmen at his ease, and it is an additional comfort to Englishmen, who, as a rule, know no language except their own, to be dealing with people who speak our language like natives. It was at Cannes that I first came much into contact with Russians, but since then I have been attached to several Russian Missions that have been in London, and even now I have a few good friends left who have managed to escape from the Bolsheviks. I remember being attached to the Russian suite of one of the Royalties who came on a Mission here. There being no room at Buckingham Palace, they were quartered at the hotel of that name, but of course were expected to take their meals at the palace, together with the suites of the other missions who were representing their various countries. I thought it my duty to go to the hotel every day to see if my friends required any attention, but I might just as well have saved myself the trouble. The invariable answer to my questions as to whether they would like to dine or take luncheon at the palace, or required carriages to take them about, was a polite one to the effect that they could quite well look after themselves, and as far as conveyances were concerned they infinitely preferred hansoms to royal carriages. The principal reason why the men of the upper classes in Russia are so easy to get on with, is, that they are, with rare exceptions, gentlemen, and it is as uncommon to meet a vulgar snob among them as it would be to meet a gentleman among the same number and class of Germans.
But I must return to Cannes. No sooner had the Duchess arrived at Cannes than she was surrounded by her relatives, who not only entertained her, but were more than kind to the officers on board. I remember a dinner party given for her at the Villa Venden, then the property of the late Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, who had married the Grand Duchess Anastasie of Russia, sister to the Grand Duke Michael, who has lived for so many years in England, and is so well known and popular here. Among many other distinguished guests was the Duke of Mecklenburg’s sister, the Grand Duchess Vladimir, who is also very well known in London and Paris. The Duke of Mecklenburg, who was compelled by ill-health always to winter on the Riviera, was, though a German, a gentleman, an almost unique case so far as my experience is concerned. It has been my misfortune to meet a great many Boches in my time, but I can truthfully say that one of the only gentlemen that I ever met amongst them was our host of that evening.
After dinner there was dancing, which went on until very late, and eventually we, the officers of the Surprise, got on board our ship in the dawn, thinking that anyhow after three or four hours’ sleep there would be a lazy morning. But we were reckoning without our hosts. At eight o’clock in the morning the Duchess of Mecklenburg and her sister-in-law were alongside to tell us that they had persuaded our Duchess to take them all round to Monte Carlo in the Surprise, and that meanwhile they wanted some breakfast, so these undefeated ladies, who could not possibly have been in bed before four o’clock, were four hours later making themselves extremely agreeable to their guests of the night before in the tiny wardroom of the Surprise. But apparently, however lightly Russians may take life (they perpetually use the word “nitschevo,” which corresponds exactly to the Spanish “mañana,” and practically means that “nothing matters”), they certainly do not waste it in sleep! Even now I can recall the luncheon party a few hours later at the Hôtel de Paris. Besides the Royalties, there were present a number of agreeable people of every nationality, so what with the brightness of the surroundings, the gaiety of the party, and the number of different languages in which the general conversation was carried on, there resulted a sort of babel, that was very amusing and almost bewildering to the ordinary young naval officer.
On another occasion when the Surprise was in these waters the little ship was anchored in that lovely harbour of Ville-franche, midway between Nice and Monte Carlo, and for the moment we happened to have no distinguished visitors on board. Our Boatswain, Mr. Cunningham (he is such an old friend of mine that I am sure he will forgive me for relating a story about him), had, I thought, been cooped up too long on the ship, for so keen a worker was he that he would remain for months on board without ever going ashore. With great difficulty I persuaded him to come to Monte Carlo with me on the plea that he would see a new side of life that would enlarge his mind (this was certainly true!), and on the understanding that I would give him dinner and not desert him. I duly introduced him to the gambling-rooms and gave him dinner, and then, as usually happens at Monte Carlo, we managed to miss each other and I lost sight of him. Of course he could not speak a word of anything but English, but somehow or another, after a series of adventures, he managed to find his way back to the ship just in time to get the anchor up next morning, and all was well. He was a splendid sailor, and it was a great pleasure to meet him again many years afterwards, first as Chief Boatswain of the Royal Yacht, and still later as Lieutenant Cunningham at Osborne College, where he directed the Seamanship Instruction of the Naval Cadets. But though he rose to those giddy heights I feel convinced that he never forgot his trip to Monte Carlo.
Yet another of the Surprise’s cruises to the Riviera has to be mentioned. Shortly after the New Year of 1888 our little ship anchored off San Remo, the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh being both on board. They had come to visit (and unhappily their visit turned out to be a final one) the Crown Prince of Prussia who was spending the winter there. He left San Remo shortly afterwards to become German Emperor for a reign of three months. The Crown Prince was too ill to return the visit in person, but I can remember the Crown Princess arriving on board and the manifest pleasure that it gave her to find herself once more on board a British man-of-war. Well might the odious people with whom she had been fated to live, call her, in derision, the “Engländerin”; we English, who have grown to know the Germans better, can now appreciate the fact that what was intended as an ill-natured sneer was, virtually, a compliment. By the middle of June her husband, the man who, had he lived, might possibly have changed the fate of Europe, was unfortunately dead; to be succeeded on the throne by his son, that half-megalomaniac, half-mountebank, who, as I write, has taken refuge in a foreign country from those who were once his subjects.