The Royal Yacht arrived at Reval on the morning of June 9th, and there we found the two Imperial Yachts, Polar Star and the Standardt, the Dowager Empress being on board the one, the other being the temporary residence of the Emperor and Empress and their children. There was also a Russian squadron anchored in the roads, which, augmented by our escorting cruiser squadron, made up a fine show of ships.
Even then, that part of Russia was in a very disturbed state, so much so that none of the suite, or the officers of our fleet, were allowed to land, in case of trouble; and no boats, with the exception of men-o’-war’s boats, were permitted to ply at all in the part of the anchorage that had been assigned to the Royal Yachts of both nations.
The whole visit passed off very agreeably, the Russians in those days being always the pleasantest of people to deal with, but underlying it all there was the feeling that the country we were in was in a very abnormal state. The Empress was palpably in a nervous condition, and no wonder, considering the constant dangers to which her children were exposed. Among the notable people in attendance on the Emperor were Monsieur Stolypin, the President of the Council of Ministers; Baron Zahamelsky, the Governor-General of the Baltic Provinces, besides such personal attendants as General Count Paul Benckendorff and Prince Orloff, who were Aides-de-Camp to the Emperor; the former was also a brother of the well-known and much-liked Ambassador in London. Monsieur Stolypin, as will be remembered, was eventually murdered in the Opera House of St. Petersburg. After many attempts against his life, the assassinating party at last succeeded in its object,—a previous attack on his life, when a bomb was exploded in his house, had only wounded him and maimed one of his children for life.
At the State dinner party I happened to sit next to one of the Russian gentlemen who had held the post of Governor of the Palace for a couple of years, and he gave me an idea of the terrible responsibility that this office carried, in that, amongst other things, he was personally responsible for the safety of the Emperor. But, as I have written in a previous page, I doubt whether there is one of those men, (all of whom were either public servants or else attached to the Emperor’s person during that visit), who is now alive. Of the fate of the members of the Imperial Family, it is unnecessary to write. All Europe has read with horror of the indignities they suffered before being murdered.
But to turn to less gloomy memories: there were the usual State banquets on board the Royal Yachts of the two monarchs; at the one given by King Edward we, of his suite, were much impressed by the amusing way in which he settled a difficult question of etiquette. In Russia the Dowager Empress is of higher rank than the Consort of the Emperor; in England, of course, the reverse is the case. As both these illustrious ladies were dining on board the Victoria and Albert, anchored in Russian waters, it was a rather nice point to whom to give precedence in arranging the seating of the guests at the banquet. Following a precedent set by Solomon, in a reversed sense, the King solved the difficulty by taking both Empresses in to dinner, one on each arm!
After the dinner on board the Emperor’s yacht, the Standardt, a serenading party of singers came off from the shore in a tug, which was then anchored close to the Royal Yachts. They sang deliciously while the guests were smoking their cigars on deck. Of course it was still broad daylight, so that the Royalties were in easy view of the singers, and at the outside a couple of hundred yards off. This appeared to me to be a very risky proceeding, so I sent for an old friend of mine, (now Sir Patrick Quinn), then, the Special Detective Officer in charge of the King, to ask him his opinion. I pointed out to him that in broad daylight, as it was, any disaffected person on board the tug, if prepared to give up his own life, could make a certainty of shooting any member of the two Royal Families that he liked to select. Quinn’s answer was, “You need not fuss, Captain; there is not a man or a woman on board the tug who has not been stripped by the Russian Police and searched for arms before being embarked, and when it comes to searching, the Russian Police do not make mistakes.”
On the 11th the Royal Yacht left Reval for England via the Kiel Canal, the escorting squadron parting company there and finding their way home round Denmark. On our way through the Canal the Kaiser, with that wonderful capacity he has always shown for unsuccessful theatrical effects, arranged that the Royal Yacht should be escorted through the Canal by detachments of Cavalry! It would be difficult to imagine anything more incongruous and ridiculous than was this “cocktail” performance. The German Cavalry, efficient as they are in many respects, do not shine as horsemen, and it amused us enormously to see these unfortunate troopers bumping along the road that runs parallel to the Canal, in their attempts to keep up with the Royal Yacht, which was, of course, condemned to go at her very slowest speed.
By the 16th the Royal party was back at Buckingham Palace; but London was left almost immediately for Windsor, where there was a large gathering for the Ascot Races.
Ascot Races in 1908 was a more than usually brilliant affair. There was an exceptionally large party at Windsor, which filled the Castle to its utmost capacity, and amongst the guests were some of the King’s French friends, such as the Prince and Princesse Murat, the Marquis and Marquise de Gannay, and that very charming man, M. Édouard Detaille, (long since dead I am sorry to say), so well known as the very successful painter of military subjects. I had often been to his studio in Paris, which was almost a museum in its way, for he not only managed to acquire Napoleonic relics of all sorts, but had also made a most remarkable collection of the head-dresses of all the regiments of the different armies of that period. In these days it seems almost incredible that men should have fought for years in such enormous and fantastic head-coverings. A great many of them, I believe, were not nearly as uncomfortable as they looked, and even in the later Crimean days our Foot-guards stuck steadily to their bearskin, which were always said to be the only sort of head-dress that the British private did not try to get rid of, if he got the chance. But to return to Monsieur Detaille; he was even then very delicate, and in rather poor health generally, but his kind host had told him that he was to go racing or not, just as he felt inclined, and to take life as easily as he liked in wandering about the Castle, with all its wealth of pictures to interest him. Incidentally, there was one of his own works there, which still hangs in a very prominent position in the large dining-room,—the fine equestrian portrait of King Edward, accompanied by his brother, the Duke of Connaught, at an Aldershot review. The portrait of the King was certainly one of the best of him that ever was painted, and the fore-shortening of the fine chestnut charger that he is riding is masterly; the horse really looks as if he were stepping out of the frame towards the spectator.
Windsor for Ascot Races was rather a strenuous time for the Equerries, whose duties it was to ride to Ascot and back with the Royal carriage. Seven miles does not sound like a long ride, but after a sea-trip, where no exercise can be taken, to ride at a full trot without any chance of changing the pace, at mid-day in the month of June, made me much hotter than did polo at Malta played in the great heat of a Mediterranean summer.