The young naval officer stood on the platform at the Weymouth train station as the 1620 train from Paddington arrived in a cloud of steam and smoke. He had been careful not to spoil his dress uniform during the 20-minute trip from Portland Harbor on board the admiral’s steam pinnace. The Honorable Peter Willoughby, flag lieutenant of Admiral Sir William May, Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy’s Home Fleet, congratulated himself on the speed and efficiency with which he and the company of HMS Dreadnought had responded to a sudden and unexpected request from the Foreign Office. Less than an hour earlier on that mild Monday afternoon of 7 February 1910, a telegram had arrived from the Permanent Under-Secretary, Sir Charles Hardinge, informing Admiral May that a party of important foreign dignitaries was about to descend on him and that they should be shown all courtesies.1 Even now the ship was being dressed in all her pennants and flags. The prestige of the Home Fleet, the most powerful in the Royal Navy, was at stake.
From a reserved rail carriage came an entourage of persons not normally seen in this provincial seaport town: four princes of Abyssinia, bearded and resplendent in flowing silk robes and bejeweled pectoral crosses, followed by a tall and shabbily dressed interpreter and a shorter but nattily dressed Foreign Office functionary. Willoughby saluted them, introduced himself, and then escorted the party to the cabs that would carry them to the waiting pinnace.
Little did Willoughby realize as they entered Portland Harbor, where the ships of the mighty Home Fleet lay at their moorings, that the stage now was set for a piece of theater that would delight the press, embarrass the British government, and become known as “The Dreadnought Hoax.”
While naval historians have written much about the design and building of the Dreadnought and the naval arms race that followed her launch in 1906, the Dreadnought hoax generally rates little more than a footnote. What had motivated the perpetrators of the hoax—in particular Adrian Stephen and his sister Virginia, along with a few other individuals from London’s radical “Bloomsbury Group”—to launch an assault on one the most formidable icons in the British Empire, HMS Dreadnought, at that particular time and place?
Political or Personal?
In the social history sphere, the hoax has taken on larger meaning because of the involvement of Virginia Stephen, who would become better known as the feminist writer Virginia Woolf. Some historians see the hoax as the opening event in a year that would mark the beginning of a transformation, as Western culture emerged from the social, political, moral, and artistic confines of the Edwardian era and into a brave new age, the beginning of a decade that would see enormous societal changes brought about by the Great War.2
The hoaxers are seen as rejecting the values of empire in their lampoon of the British military establishment, and their act as a blow against the popular navalism of the time. The launch of the Dreadnought and the subsequent naval arms race are considered today as a major contributor to the tensions that led to war.3 The hoax would foreshadow the group’s later involvement in the suffragette, antiwar, and conscientious objector movements. Political feeling certainly may have played a part, but it seems the motivation of the Stephen siblings also was personal and aimed at their cousin, Flag Commander William Wordsworth Fisher.
The Dreadnought Hoax
At about 1700 the admiral’s pinnace brought the entourage alongside the Dreadnought, moored to the No. 1 Buoy in Portland Harbor. Mr. Cholmondeley of the Foreign Office (Horace de Vere Cole) followed the flag lieutenant up the accommodation ladder, followed in turn by Prince Makalen (Anthony Buxton), Prince Mandok (Duncan Grant), Prince Mikael Golen (Guy Ridley), Prince Sanganya (Virginia Stephen), and their “interpreter,” Herr Kauffmann (Adrian Stephen). On the quarterdeck they were met by Admiral Sir William May and his staff officers, including Flag Commander Fisher, Flag Captain Herbert W. Richmond, and the ship’s Marine Honor Guard and Band.
Mr. Cholmondeley made the introductions in turn, explaining that their royal highnesses were in England to make arrangements to send their sons to Eton. While in England they wished to see the world famous HMS Dreadnought. Adrian Stephen, as Herr Kauffmann, affected a German accent as best he could. He hoped his accent and his disguise—which consisted of a bowler hat and a chin beard—would be enough to prevent his cousin, who was standing just a few feet away, from recognizing him.
Admiral May invited his guests to inspect the Royal Marines. This presented Herr Kauffmann with his most daunting task: interpreting a language that neither he nor the other hoaxers actually spoke. While on the train they had studied a few words of Swahili from a missionary tract, imagining that to be the language spoken in Ethiopia. But after stammering the few words he could remember, he reverted to a mangled form of Latin recitation, using the passages he had memorized as a boy from the fourth book of Virgil’s Aeneid. Breaking up and mispronouncing the words, he hoped none of the officers present would catch on.
As Herr Kauffmann “translated” the admiral’s words the other hoaxers mimicked his speech in appreciative murmurs and in expressing amazement at the Dreadnought’s technical marvels. At this point, Admiral May turned his guests over to Captain Richmond, politely excused himself, changed clothes, and departed for shore.4
While Mr. Cholmondeley joined Commander Fisher and Lieutenant Willoughby in the admiral’s suite for tea, Captain Richmond and several of his officers escorted the party on a tour of the ship. They moved aft to a hatchway and descended to the main deck, where they were shown the seaman’s mess, the sick bay and dispensary, the engineering offices, and finally the executive offices and captain’s cabin. They then ascended a spiral ladderway two decks up to the flying deck, where they visited the wireless office. Moving to the port side, they were able to look down on one of the huge wing turrets mounted on the upper deck below, watching as it rotated and as the barrels of the twin 12-inch guns moved up and down independently.5
By this time a light rain had begun to fall, and the breeze picked up. Adrian Stephen noticed that Anthony Buxton’s mustache was beginning to peel away. He explained to Captain Richmond that the princes were used to warmer weather, and might they go below? They were shown to the wardroom, where they were offered refreshment. This was politely refused based on royal “dietary restrictions,” but in reality, they were afraid to compromise their disguises.
Their visit had come to an end, and the hoaxers were transported back to Weymouth in the same style as they had arrived, accompanied by Willoughby. They almost leapt out of the carriage to make the 1800 train returning to London. But before leaving, Prince Makalen offered to bestow the Grand Cross of Abyssinia on Lieutenant Willoughby. Willoughby said, unfortunately, he could not accept the decoration without the permission of his commander and so had to decline the honor. The train arrived back in London late that night, and the four so-called princes and their entourage returned to their homes, satisfied that they had outfoxed the Royal Navy and confident that no one would discover their ruse.
Unless, of course, someone talked.
Repercussions
The next morning Horace de Vere Cole paid a visit to Sir Charles Hardinge at the Foreign Office and told him what he had done. Apparently, the secret satisfaction of a successful caper was not enough—he had to see his victim’s reaction. The officials at the Foreign Office did not believe him at first and thought him mad, but they contacted the Admiralty all the same. Graham Greene, the Admiralty Secretary, inquired of Admiral May by private note (not telegram) if this were true. But the Home Fleet had left Portland early on 8February and did not return until the next evening.
May must have been astounded when he read the note on his return. He quickly dashed off a reply confirming the story and attached the offending telegram.6 If the Admiralty had hoped the affair would remain quiet while they investigated, they were soon disappointed. On Saturday, 12 February, the Daily Express, at the instigation of Cole, published the first of many articles relating how this group of clever but still anonymous young people had fooled the Royal Navy, complete with photographs of them in disguise.7
The next day May sent Greene a letter demanding that something be done to punish the hoaxers, adding that his flag lieutenant could name several of the perpetrators and furnish their addresses.8 After some additional correspondence, they concluded the only legal action available to the government was to prosecute Cole for sending a telegram under false pretext, and that probably would result in just a small fine. The Admiralty quietly let the matter drop to avoid any more adverse publicity.
In fact, the worst punishment the hoaxers ever received from the authorities was a severe tongue lashing. Hearing that some of the officers involved might be punished on their account, Adrian Stephen and Duncan Grant called on First Lord of the Admiralty Reginald McKennaand accepted full responsibility for the affair. McKenna gave them a good dressing down for their effrontery. Miffed that they were not taken seriously, they said it was the Navy that ought to be punished for allowing them to get away with the stunt so easily.
Despite some uncomfortable questions put to the First Lord in Parliament, there were no lasting political effects from the hoax, and after a fortnight’s flurry, the press quickly forgot about it. If nothing else, the hoax prodded the Royal Navy to improve security regarding the authentication of telegrams and in vetting visiting dignitaries in home ports.
No Ship of Fools
In the newspaper reports and later accounts written by Adrian Stephen and Virginia Woolf, the description of the officers involved is less than flattering. In general, they are portrayed as credulous, unable to detect false beards and jumbled Latin grammar, and having a ridiculously attenuated sense of honor. The best that could be said of them was that they were unfailingly hospitable and polite. In the conclusion of his book on the hoax Stephen wrote, “As for revenge, if they wanted any, they had already had plenty before the hoax was over. They treated us so delightfully while we were on board that I, for one, felt very uncomfortable at mocking, even in the friendliest spirit, such charming people.”9 Charming but not very bright, in the opinion of the Stephen siblings.
Such an assessment is patently unfair. Present beside Admiral Sir William May that day were at least six future flag officers of the Royal Navy: Captain Somerset Gough-Calthorpe, Captain Herbert W. Richmond, Commander William W. Fisher, Commander Alan Hotham, and Lieutenant Kenneth Dewar, all of whom would eventually achieve knighthood. They were none of them fools, and all had made, or would go on to make, significant contributions to the Royal Navy, most especially Richmond and Fisher.
A man of strong opinions, Richmond would become one of the most preeminent naval historians of the early 20th century. In 1912, he and Dewar founded The Naval Review as a forum for Royal Navy officers to exchange ideas and discuss professional topics—in the same vein as the U.S. Naval Institute’s Proceedings. Fisher eventually would command the Mediterranean Fleet, where his rigorous training is credited for the fighting effectiveness the fleet demonstrated during World War II.
One wonders how long the disguises fooled Fisher and Richmond. Both had been educated in the classics before joining the Navy, and both had spent time in Africa. Fisher was said to be quite proficient in Latin and Greek. Adrian Stephen stood six-feet, five-inches, and in a photograph of the princes and their entourage, his disguise, consisting of nothing more than a short chin beard and a bowler hat, does not look particularly impenetrable. Fisher certainly recognized his cousins and identified them later, but perhaps amazed at their effrontery and fearing the reaction of the crew, chose at the time to keep quiet.10
Some officers apparently were fooled. Kenneth Dewar in his memoir briefly describes the incident, noting that “Someone joked that they were not Abyssinians but German spies,” to which another officer, who had spent his last commission in the West Indies Station said, in effect, that he could recognize a black man.11
Insider Information
The masterminds of the Dreadnought hoax were Horace de Vere Cole and Adrian Stephen. They had been undergraduates together at Trinity College, Cambridge, where they pulled off the prototype of the hoax in March 1905. With three friends, they impersonated the fictitious uncle of the Sultan of Zanzibar and his entourage and paid a “state visit” to Cambridge, using the same subterfuges they would use again on the Dreadnought. The stunt received considerable press coverage, and it nearly caused them to be sent down, but as they were careful to embarrass a townsperson and not their college, they were spared any punishment. The affair was seen as a huge joke and all in good fun. But it was remembered by some, and it would be repeated on request.
Adrian Stephen, perhaps to deflect blame, later claimed the idea for the Dreadnought hoax was first suggested by a naval officer who wanted to “pull the leg” of his friend Commander Fisher.12 If true, this unnamed officer had come to the right men. According to Stephen, the mysterious naval officer met him and Horace de Vere Cole for lunch one day to lay out a plan, to which they both immediately agreed. Stephen, who then aspired to be an actor, claimed there was little time to work out the details, so he relied on his immediate circle of friends, including his younger sister, to provide the entourage and his theatrical connections for the costumes and professional theater makeup.
The assistance of a naval “insider” might help explain how the hoaxers knew when the Dreadnought would be at Portland Harbor. The battleship frequently was at sea during this period conducting tactical exercises, yet the hoaxers were able to arrange their costuming and travel within a limited window of opportunity. One officer who had the necessary information—and a relationship with Fisher—was Lieutenant Bernard Buxton, flag lieutenant to Rear Admiral Sir Stanley Colville, commander of the First Cruiser Squadron.13 Colville’s flagship HMS Indomitable was one of the new fast battlecruisers and usually accompanied the Home Fleet on maneuvers, so Buxton would have been in a position to know the comings and goings of the fleet. Fisher had been the commander (executive officer) of that ship before coming to the Dreadnought, and he and Buxton were old shipmates. It was not a coincidence that Anthony Buxton, one of the hoaxers, was his cousin. One can imagine Lieutenant Buxton observing the whole thing from the bridge of the Indomitable, moored just across the harbor.14
If Commander Fisher was the primary target, then Vice Admiral May likely was the secondary target. William “Handsome Willie” May was said to be a talented officer and often was named in the press as a future First Sea Lord, a position he coveted. But he also was known to be somewhat vain and quite protective of his personal dignity.15 To have boys in the Weymouth streets tag along after him imitating the false princes must have injured May’s pride every time. For Fisher—who was fiercely loyal to May—to know that two of this cousins had been involved must have been especially infuriating.
Captain Richmond had been given command of the Dreadnought in summer 1909, but by fall of that year his relationship with May had soured, culminating in May’s refusal to grant leave during the Christmas holiday. In his private diary, Richmond’s criticism of May was scathing.16 Richmond and Adrian Stephen belonged to the same small club that took long walks on the occasional Sunday afternoon. According to Stephen, at their next encounter following the hoax, Richmond feigned calling for the police but then laughed the whole thing off.17 Richmond would not have minded seeing Handsome Willie brought down a notch.
That Richmond found amusement in the hoax engendered a deep animosity in William Fisher.18 Fisher was an ambitious officer but devoted to the service; Richmond, no less devoted, was more of an iconoclast and a reformer. In their post-Dreadnought careers, he and Richmond were service rivals, as exemplified in their divergent opinions on the Battle of Jutland: Fisher was a Jellicoe man, and Richmond supported Beatty. Richmond had coveted command of the Mediterranean Fleet but was passed over, and his outspoken opinions resulted in him being forced out of the service in 1931. A year later, Fisher assumed command of that coveted fleet.
Fisher never forgave the insult to his beloved chief, and he never spoke with his cousins again. On his death in June 1937, Virginia Woolf wrote to a friend: “Yes, I am sorry about William—our last meeting was on the deck of the Dreadnought in 1910, I think; but I wore a beard. And I’m afraid that he took it to heart a good deal.”19
As a final note, Adrian Stephen wrote he was saddened to learn some years later that the young officer who escorted them was killed in battle during World War I.20 Willoughby was lost with the rest of his shipmates on board HMS Monmouth at the Battle of Coronel, 1 November 1914. One hopes that on learning this tragic news Stephen gave pause to reflect on the true meaning of honor and dedication, and that those legs he liked to pull also defended his liberty to do so.
1. Telegram dated 7 February 1910, stamped received “Commander-in-Chief, Home Fleet,” ADM 1_8192_007, National Archives.
2. Peter Stansky, On or About December 1910: Early Bloomsbury and Its Intimate World (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996), 251.
3. Andrew Lambert, “The Power of a Name: Tradition, Technology, and Transformation,” in The Dreadnought and the Edwardian Age, Robert J. Blyth, Andrew Lambert, and Jan Rüger, eds. (Farnham, Surrey, England: Ashgate Publishing Ltd., 2011), 27.
4. Adrian Stephen, The Dreadnought Hoax (London: Hogarth Press, 1936, reprint 1983). The descriptions of the hoax by the author are largely to be found in this slim volume.
5. John Roberts, The Battleship Dreadnought: The Anatomy of a Ship (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1992), 80–83. Roberts’ excellent deck plans were used to trace the route of the entourage through the ship.
6. Handwritten note on flagship letterhead, dated 9 February 1910, ADM 1_8192_005, National Archives. Sir W. Graham Greene was the uncle of the celebrated author of the same name.
7. “Amazing Naval Hoax,” The Daily Express, no. 3,071, 12 February 1910, 1.
8. Handwritten note on flagship letterhead, dated 13 February 1910, ADM 1_8192_009, National Archives.
9. Stephen, The Dreadnought Hoax, 61.
10. Stephen, 52. Adrian Stephen claims Fisher told him he had to keep quiet to preserve Miss Stephen’s reputation.
11. VADM Sir K. G. B. Dewar, RN, The Navy from Within (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1939), 120.
12. Stephen, The Dreadnought Hoax, 31.
13. This information is taken from The Navy List for January 1910 (London: His Majesty’s Printing Office, 1910), 331.
14. I believe Buxton arranged the hoax out of fun and not malice and may have regretted how it hurt Fisher. There apparently was no lasting animosity as Buxton’s son married Fisher’s daughter in 1929.
15. Mary Jones, “Handsome Willie May: A Reappraisal,” The Mariner’s Mirror 89 no. 3 (2003), 319.
16. Arthur J. Marder, Portrait of an Admiral: The Life and Papers of Sir Herbert Richmond (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1952), 63. Published posthumously, Richmond’s diary and his acerbic opinions of the Royal Navy’s leadership caused quite a stir.
17. Stephen, The Dreadnought Hoax.
18. Admiral Sir William James in his biography of W. W. Fisher says Fisher hated only one brother officer, inferring that man to be Richmond. William James, Admiral Sir William Fisher (London: Macmillan & Co., LTD, 1943), 154.
19. Quentin Bell, Virginia Woolf: A Biography (London: Hogarth Press, 1972), 216.
20. Stephen, The Dreadnought Hoax, 47.