Those whose men took part in the Battle of Jutland may forgive—I think they can never forget—the way in which England received the first tidings of that heroic fight. It is the custom in many quarters to blame the Admiralty for the wording of their first published report; but, as my son wrote to me: "They only said that there had been an engagement, and that we had lost certain ships. Why should people jump to the conclusion that the enemy's losses were less than ours?"

Why indeed! It showed, not only a complete lack of imagination, but a singular want of faith in the efficiency of the Navy, in which they had always proclaimed such unbounded confidence. It would appear that the great majority of the British public had not the faintest conception of the magnitude of the sacrifices involved in a naval battle fought under conditions of modern warfare. Were the people so dazzled and blinded by the century-old memory of Trafalgar as to forget the fact that at Trafalgar there were neither submarines, nor mines, nor aircraft, nor 15-inch guns to contend with? It would seem incredible—if it were not true—that men landing from the ships with the knowledge that by almost superhuman courage and endurance they had won the greatest naval fight in the history of the world, were yet greeted by the public with cold looks—in some cases even with hisses—and by the Press with a cynical pessimism which could only ask why they had not done more!—and this, remember, at a moment when they were on the rack of mourning for so many gallant friends and comrades who had bought Victory with their lives.

Well, it taught the Navy, if not a new, certainly a very hard lesson: the lesson that although "in the performance of plain duty man mounts to his highest bliss," yet the consciousness of duty done to the uttermost must be its own reward. From the "man in the street," the Service may in time win an understanding gratitude and recognition, but it seems that they are to be denied that instant generous appreciation which would do so much to atone for the tragic sense of personal loss inseparable from even the grandest victory.

Shortly after the battle, one of the greatest of their leaders wrote to a friend as follows: "Our sacrifices were great, but they were worth it.... Those who died, died gloriously, in a spirit of great exaltation, and supremely happy.... And, even if nothing else had been gained, there is the knowledge that the Old Sea Spirit still lives in the English Navy—an absolutely unconquerable Spirit, strongly manifested on the 31st of May."

How much was gained we know to-day. Lest I be betrayed to unbridled speech, such as they would be the first to deplore and resent ... let me leave it at that.