Nearly as important as the appointments of a luxury yacht at the turn of the century was the outfit one wore when on board. For men, there could be no uncertainty: They donned the standard yachting kit of blue jacket and white slacks. Women of fashion had a wider choice. The options ranged from a flowingly tailored simulacrum of a naval uniform to a considerably more casual blouse and skirt, with a seagoing version of the garden hat firmly tied under the chin.
Ew. Willy, as his British kinfolk called him, was a wiry little man with piercing blue eyes, a waxed mustache and a withered left arm. Vain, ambitious, erratic in behavior and often a downright bully, he became Emperor of Germany in 1888, at the age of 29. His mother, Victoria's daughter, made sure he learned to read English; he became absorbed in Alfred T. Mahan’s tome The Influence of Seo Power upon History, and promptly determined to make Germany a naval power in the British mold. "Our future lies on the water,” he announced.
As a preliminary move in that direction, the Kaiser accepted his Uncle Bertie’s invitation to join the Royal Yacht Squadron in 1889. He also bought a sailing yacht, but his first cruises on it were less than satisfactory: He discovered that he became uneasy when it heeled to a fresh breeze. Meanwhile, however, he had ordered the construction of a big steamer, assuring his ministers that her prime function would be naval and that she would set the pattern for a Grand Squadron. Four years and 4.5 million marks later, HohenzoJIern was launched. She was massive: 383 feet long and 3,773 tons. Her engines could produce 9,500 horsepower and speed her along at 21V2 knots. She resembled an outsized destroyer. But at her launching, Wilhelm surprised everybody by announcing that she was now his royal yacht.
The Kaiser delighted in his new plaything. He had a great imperial eagle painted over her prow, and he outfitted the yacht with luxurious appointments. Gruising aboard HohenzolJern in the Baltic and to England, often escorted by a pack of warships, he fired off orders to his government and daydreamed of future German naval triumphs.
A typical Wilhelm performance was his arrival for Gowes Week in 1894. HohenzolJern, 83 feet longer than Victorio and Albert II, moved grandly up the roadstead, dipping her imperial standard at the masthead as she passed Willy’s grandmother at Osborne House. Amid ceremonial firing of cannon, the great white yacht rounded to her mooring within two minutes of her scheduled time.
Willy was almost uncontrollably jealous of his uncle’s social success with Gowes Week. He referred to the Prince of Wales as "the old peacock," and he found Edward’s retinue dissolute. No doubt he enjoyed the gibes of some blue-water sailors who called the squadron lawn a “marine Madame Tussaud’s” and nicknamed the Kaiser’s portly uncle “Turn-Turn.” Nevertheless the Kaiser copied the Prince’s yachting outfit. He aped the aristocrats around him, dropping his g’s and repeating the glib bons mots, usually getting them wrong. He strutted about the lawn, fancying slights even when there were none. Despite his best efforts to fit into the yachting and social scene, he sensed a barrier. In the deadly phrase of one member of the squadron, the Kaiser was “not quite a gentleman.”
So Willy decided that if he could not truly join them he would beat them. He established his own yachting festival, Kiel Week—held at the Baltic resort in June—and invited the same royalty and aristocracy. Few accepted—and even fewer returned for a second time after being overwhelmed by brass bands, constant cannon fire, goose-stepping guards of honor and medal-bedecked officers saluting and heel-clicking at an unending series of formal banquets and receptions. The Kaiser could not
Aboard his royal yacht Osborne //.
Edu ard, Prince of Wales, sits in o basket chair for a formal portroit ivith his ivife. Ale. xondro (center), and their children (from left) Maud. Louise. Albert Victor, George and (seoted on the deck) Victoria.
Understand why this flashy display proved less attractive than the gentle garden receptions and deck parties of Cowes.
Understandably, Edward fretted over his nephew’s souring of the cream of European royalty at Cowes. To a German friend he put it politely: “The Regatta used to be my favourite relaxation; but since the Emperor has been in command here, it’s nothing but a nuisance,’’ He became less and less interested in this unpleasant family scene.
Then, in 1901, Queen Victoria died at Osborne House, She had commissioned a new steam yacht, the 380-foot-long Victorio ond Albert III, and had made so many suggestions for additions and improvements that the completed yacht was top-heavy: when eased out of drydock in May 1899, the vessel tilted over at a 24° angle and was righted only with difficulty. It took two years to correct the yacht’s balance, and Victoria never used ber. At her state funeral, her catafalque was carried to the mainland from the Isle of Wight aboard the tender Alberto; the royal mourners followed aboard Victoria and Albert II.
Now that he had finally succeeded to the throne at the age of 59, Edward VII took his royal duties more seriously. He also felt obliged to be more magnanimous to his nephew the Kaiser. In 1904 the King made the grand gesture of urging his fellow yachtsmen to attend the Kaiser’s regatta at Kiel. Kiel Week that year was the first that could be called a success.
Still, the occasion was marred by the Kaiser’s choice of British yachting companions. One was the flamboyant Earl of Lonsdale, a favorite of Willy's and known to Royal Yacbt Squadron members as “the yellow earl” because of the color of his fleet of carriages and automobiles. Making a ceremonial entrance at Kiel Week aboard his big steamer Finlon-dio, Lonsdale sauntered ashore clad in striped trousers and a yellow waistcoat over a silk shirt and hunting stock, chewing a long cigar and sporting a wide-brimmmed Panama hat. Handing his suitcase to the startled admiral who had come to welcome him, Lonsdale strode past a guard of honor lined up in full regalia and entered the clubhouse. The other visiting British yachtsmen winced at his performance; it was almost as bad form as Lonsdale’s earlier insistence that the painter of the official portrait of squadron members place him in the front row with the royal and elder members. The artist complied, only to have the outraged senior members demand that the earl be painted out and moved to a less prominent spot.
The distinction between Lord Lonsdale and bis fellow squadron members was largely lost on the American yachtsmen now swarming to England. They were fascinated by what seemed to them a quaintly attractive scene, and their hosts in turn were intrigued by the Americans’ reaction. Vita Sackville-West pinpointed the phenomenon in her novel The Edwordions. Describing a visiting American millionaire, tbe novel’s Lady Roehampton remonstrates with a snobbish young Briton: “But, darling, you don’t appreciate the/reshness of his mind; we all appear to him like a lot of old waxworks; he told me so himself: such an amusing idea, I think,” Indeed, she points out, when the rich visitor spotted one of the British country estates “he wanted to buy the whole house and move it brick by brick to America.” As The Edivardions warned, “The Ameri-
World History
