The traditional decorative role of the 19th Century woman was an anathema to one member of British nobility, the unconventional Duchess of Bedford. She was less interested In the formalities of society than in the rugged joys of exploring, and she led her reluctant spouse, the Duke, on many a merry nautical chase.
In 1901, aboard the chartered Sop-phire fbelowj, she was able to satisfy her “ambition to see something of the great frozen North” by sailing to Spitz-bergen and beyond, all the way to the Arctic ice pack.
The Duchess was fascinated by the avian life of the northern seas, and in 1903 she bought Sopphire, periodically sailing the yacht to the bleak Orkney Islands, off Scotland. On one such expedition she wrote in her diary: "1 had an invitation to a party at Buckingham Palace for today, but walked over instead to visit the King of the Birds, viz.
The White-tailed Eagle at Waterfalls, North Roe. His Majesty was at home, and gave me a splendid view.”
In 1912, the Duchess bought a new, larger yacht, which she also named Sopphire, and she continued to rove cold climes until World War 1. With the outbreak of hostilities, she offered both the yacht and herself for service. The Royal Navy accepted the yacht but not the Duchess, politely explaining that sea duty was too risky for women.
The 244-foot sleom yocht Sopphire lies at onchor in MagdoJeno Bay during the Duchess' 1901 cruise to Spilzberg( about BOO miles from the North Pal
Abaord Sapphire, the Duchess iveors heryochting outfit ond crodJes a favorite doll. This photograph wos token by o guest during the 1901 cruise.
In her bathing suit, the Duchess waves from Spitzbergen's share. The Duke a/ Bed/ard (left), protects his head from the sun with a bandanna, while/riend John Findley wears a boater. The Duke eventually faund his wife's expeditions too strenuous and stayed home.
Beady ta swim, the Duchess (left) lines up on the second Sapphire's deck with cousin Marjorie Russell, friend Janet Tooth (right) and Flora Green (second /rom rightj, tutor to the Bed/ords’ son and a favarite traveling companion.
Ship to shore. Steam launches puffed between the yachts, carrying nobles and mere millionaires to afternoon deck parties and evening banquets and balls. Summing up Cowes Week in 1894, the journal Yachting World proclaimed: “Society was protuberant, and comprised rank and fashion of all nations. Never have so many yachts graced the beautiful waters of the Solent.” Not content with this effusion, the reporter finished with the thought that “every Englishman must be inspired with a feeling of pride when he looks upon this great congress of nations assembled at the chief port of the garden of England.”
The imposing figure of Edward could be seen strolling the squadron lawn daily during the season, his yachting kit topped by a white cap. Smoking his ever-present Havana cigar and swinging his ebony walking stick, he escorted one of his favorite lady friends, perhaps Alice Keppel or the actress Lillie Langtry (his mistress in the 1880sj—or occasionally his wife, Alexandra.
In 1892 he commissioned the perfect yacht for his purposes. Britannia, built at the then-extravagant cost of ?8,000, was a 122-foot cutter fast enough to win many of the Cowes Week races. She also had amenities for the Prince’s guests: a deckhouse to shelter ladies from the spray, a commodious main cabin complete with a writing desk and an upright piano, and a ladies’ cabin under the afterdeck. The Prince’s aging mother reportedly spent her afternoons at a telescope on the Osborne House lawn, spying on Britannia in the roadstead to see which of her son’s mistresses was on board the yacht with him that day. Victoria rarely ventured out to Britannia herself. Perhaps it was just as well, for Bertie’s keen-eyed mother probably would have noticed—and certainly would have disapproved of—one memento of her son’s liaisons: a royal blue pillow that was adorned by a large red satin flap in the shape of a heart; under the flap was the embroidered inscription: Avec tout mon coeur— “with all my heart.”
As the years passed, the Prince spent more and more of his time at Cowes aboard his yacht and became quite at home even when her decks were aslant. His aides marveled at Edward’s exquisite balance. On one occasion the Prince was sitting in a deck chair reading the morning papers when Britonnia heeled sharply to the wind. He grasped the companionway coaming just in time, and stood up as chair and papers skidded over the side. At his direction, Britannio was jibed and the chair and papers were scooped up. The newspapers were taken to the forecastle to be dried out so that His Highness could finish reading them.
The captains and kings who gathered under Edward’s aegis at Cowes made up an almost wildly assorted group—pompous and playful, vain and unassuming, staid and eccentric. A favorite was King Alfonso of Spain, whose spirited bonhomie endeared him to aristocrats and commoners alike. He once put on a memorable display of playfulness when his royal railroad train arrived early at Portsmouth, from which he was to sail across the Spithead to Cowes. Spotting the ample posterior of a stooping railway attendant who was still rolling out the traditional red carpet for him, the King leapfrogged over the astonished porter.
But none of Cowes’s royal habitues were more remarkable than Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany. He was Victoria’s grandson and Edward’s neph-
Below, an American j'achtsivoman in blouse and skirl takes the helm: al right, a British beauty affects a naval look.
World History
