Difference between revisions of "John Rushworth Jellicoe, First Earl Jellicoe"

Revision as of 08:20, 19 December 2008

Admiral of the Fleet John Rushworth Jellicoe, 1st Earl Jellicoe, O.M., G.C.B., G.C.V.O. (5 December, 1859 – 20 Nov, 1935) was an officer of the Royal Navy.

Early Career, 1872–1897

Jellicoe was born at Southampton on 5 December 1859, the second of four sons of John Henry Jellicoe (1825–1914), a captain in the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company, and his wife, Lucy Henrietta (d. 17 Oct 1916), daughter of Dr John Rushworth Keele, also of Southampton. The powerful combination of his father's career and the location of the family ensured that Jellicoe became familiar with ships and the sea at an early age. His family tree included seven naval officers, notably his maternal great-grandfather, Admiral Sir Philip Patton, a contemporary of Nelson, and he had several relatives in the service throughout his career. However, his father's occupation was of only moderate social status, at a time when the officer corps of the Royal Navy was increasingly aristocratic. In consequence Jellicoe's career was reflected merit; he exploited a promotion system based on examinations in which mathematical expertise was vital, to propel him into positions where attention to detail, hard work, and an equable temperament would ensure success. After preparatory school in Southampton, he spent a year at Field House School, Rottingdean, where he mastered the foundations of mathematics that both built his career, and provided a key insight into the man.

In 1872 Jellicoe was nominated for the Royal Navy by Captain Robert Hall, a friend of his father, who was then naval secretary to the Admiralty. He joined the cadet training ship HMS Britannia, moored in the River Dart, in the summer of that year, coming second out of thirty-nine cadets. He was then only 4 feet 6 inches tall, and would remain of slight stature throughout his life. Aboard Britannia his mathematical skill and small-boat experience gave him an advantage over his contemporaries, and he passed out at the top of his term in the summer of 1874. This early success explains why he spent so much of his seagoing career aboard flagships. With first-class certificates in all subjects he was immediately promoted midshipman. In September he joined the wooden steam frigate Newcastle, one of six fully rigged frigates in the flying squadron which roamed the globe for the next two and a half years. By the time the Newcastle returned to Plymouth in early 1877 he had learnt the art of square-rigged ship handling, seen the seaports of several continents, and grown 5 inches. In July he joined the ironclad Agincourt, flagship of the channel squadron, which was shortly afterwards sent out to reinforce the Mediterranean Fleet, under Admiral Sir Geoffrey Hornby. Soon after arriving the fleet passed up the Dardanelles into the Sea of Marmora, and Jellicoe was given numerous responsible tasks, commanding boats, carrying messages, and finally commanding the sailing sloop Cruiser with the admiral aboard. Despite these activities he passed third out of the 103 candidates for the rank of sub-lieutenant, gained a first-class certificate in seamanship at Malta, and first-class certificates at the Royal Naval College, Greenwich, and at the gunnery and torpedo schools at Portsmouth. This success entitled him to immediate promotion, but the reward was delayed for six months, during which time he served as signal sub-lieutenant of the Mediterranean flagship Alexandra. In September 1880 he was promoted, returning home to devote himself to gunnery, then the dominant specialization of the navy. He rejoined the Agincourt in February 1881, to complete his time as a watch-keeping officer. In May 1882 his ship returned to the Mediterranean, following the Egyptian nationalist revolt. After active service ashore Jellicoe returned to the Royal Naval College, Greenwich, in mid-1882, winning first prize for theoretical work, and continuing his unbroken run of examination success at the gunnery and torpedo schools. In May 1884 he qualified as a gunnery lieutenant, and was immediately appointed to the staff of the gunnery school Excellent by her captain, John Arbuthnot Fisher. From this point Jellicoe's career was dominated by this dynamic, ambitious, and ruthless man. Clearly Fisher saw something of himself in Jellicoe: hard work, commitment, and technical excellence. In 1885 Fisher was appointed flag captain to Admiral Hornby, who commanded a Baltic fleet assembled to deter Russian aggression against Afghanistan. Jellicoe, the junior lieutenant of the Excellent, was his personal staff officer. After Hornby's fleet was dispersed Jellicoe joined the old turret ship Monarch in September 1885 as gunnery lieutenant, moving to the new battleship Colossus in April 1886. Here he invented the competitive naval field-gun exercise, later carried out at the Royal Tournament every year, to stimulate interest in gunnery. In December he returned to the Excellent as an experimental officer, being involved in the adoption of quick-firing medium-calibre guns, which radically altered the nature of war at sea. The Naval Defence Act of 1889 provided a major sustained increase in the level of naval spending, notably the construction of ten battleships and forty-two cruisers. This placed an enormous burden on Fisher, as director of naval ordnance, and he had Jellicoe transferred to Whitehall as his assistant. Here Jellicoe encountered administrative paper work that often kept him at the office until midnight. Promoted commander in June 1891 he left the Admiralty to become executive officer of the new battleship Sans Pareil (Captain Arthur Wilson), joining the Mediterranean Fleet. The following year Jellicoe was moved to the flagship Victoria, at the request of the commander-in-chief, Admiral Sir George Tryon. On 22 June 1893 the Victoria sank off Tripoli after being rammed by Camperdown, an accident caused by the failure of any subordinate officer to query an order given by Tryon which was impossible to execute. At the time Jellicoe, suffering from Malta fever, was confined to bed. Going on deck after the collision he was fortunate not to share the fate of 358 of his shipmates. Such was Jellicoe's standing in the service that he was appointed to Ramillies (Captain Francis Bridgeman), the flagship of the new commander-in-chief, Admiral Sir Michael Culme-Seymour, along with Lieutenant Hugh Evan-Thomas, and many other officers who would hold key appointments in the First World War. Flagships have always produced a disproportionate percentage of the senior officers of the next generation, but the Ramillies was unusual, even by the standards of the day. Selected to lay the ghost of Sir George Tryon, and in particular of his controversial command style that emphasized initiative and simple permissive instructions, Culme-Seymour and his staff elevated the science of precision fleet handling to new levels, suppressing the individuality of the captains and junior admirals with a plethora of flag signals. The ship was also a centre for all manner of sporting prowess, from rowing and sailing to coaling ship, field-gun drill, and polo. In later life Jellicoe would recall this period of his life with particular pleasure. When he wanted examples of command style Jellicoe looked to Culme-Seymour, and later Wilson, rather than the more flexible Fisher, or the brilliant Tryon, with whom he served but briefly. As Andrew Gordon (in The Rules of the Game) has demonstrated, this commission was the foundation of command attitudes that bedevilled the Royal Navy in the First World War. In 1896 Jellicoe missed an opportunity for early promotion when Culme-Seymour refused a request that he command gunboats on the Nile during Kitchener's advance into Sudan. Culme-Seymour feared that Jellicoe's predisposition to Malta fever would lead to a more serious illness. Instead the promotions went to Commander Stanley Colville and Lieutenant David Beatty. In December 1896 Jellicoe returned to England, and was promoted captain on 1 January 1897, serving for a year on the ordnance committee. This involved several visits to Scotland where he stayed with Sir Charles Cayzer.

China and Admiralty, 1897–1910

Jellicoe returned to sea in late 1897 as flag captain to Admiral Sir Edward Seymour, commander-in-chief on the China station, in Centurion. The defeat of China by Japan in 1894 had exposed the weakness of the Celestial empire, and encouraged the predatory instincts of the major powers. The activity of the great powers led to a violent reaction among the Chinese, largely encouraged by the dowager empress. The anti-Western movement, commonly referred to as the ‘Boxers’, began systematic attacks on Europeans, their embassies, and Christian converts in May 1900, leading the British ambassador at Peking (Beijing) to telegraph for assistance on the 28th. Although Seymour had no troops, he assembled a force from the various national squadrons then lying off the mouth of the Peiho (Beihe) River. On 5 June Jellicoe went ahead to assess the most effective method of advance. With the river choked by sandbanks, and the road little more than a track, the railway was the only option, though a vulnerable one. On 10 June, 2129 seamen and marines were landed, 915 of whom were British. So small a force would be effective only if the Chinese army did not join the Boxers, and the railway remained open. After passing Tientsin (Tianjin) the expedition was unable to advance or retreat; the Chinese army, now openly hostile, had destroyed the railway. On 19 June Seymour abandoned the railway, loaded the wounded onto sampans and retreated. The allies had to clear every village on their route, and on 21 June Jellicoe was hit in the chest while leading such an attack. Although the wound was initially considered fatal, and Jellicoe characteristically took the trouble to write his will, he was evacuated with the rest of the force and made a full recovery. He would carry the rifle bullet in his left lung for the rest of his life. Returning to his post afloat Jellicoe accumulated considerable experience of foreign armed forces, and was particularly impressed by the professionalism of the German navy. Created CB in 1900, he had demonstrated leadership, courage, and administrative talent. There could be no doubt that he would reach the top of his profession. The Centurion paid off in August 1901.

Returning to the Admiralty in March 1902 as assistant to the third sea lord and controller, Admiral Sir William May, Jellicoe spent much of his time visiting shipyards, often in Glasgow, where he renewed his friendship with the Cayzer family. In July 1902 he married Sir Charles Cayzer's second daughter, Florence Gwendoline. Despite his late start Jellicoe found married life very much to his taste. The future Lady Jellicoe provided an outgoing and often outspoken personality and uncommon energy that complemented his altogether different character.

After a year commanding the cruiser Drake, where he adopted the gunnery reforms developed by Captain Percy Scott, Jellicoe was recalled to the Admiralty in November 1904 as director of naval ordnance, by Fisher, newly installed as first sea lord. He was now part of the technical brains trust that developed the epochal all-big-gun battleship Dreadnought. For this work he was made a CVO. At this time he corresponded frequently with his friend from the China station and fellow gunnery enthusiast, Captain William Sowden Sims USN, the American inspector of target practice. This period marked the pinnacle of Jellicoe's technical career. In February 1907 he was promoted rear-admiral, and in August he was appointed second in command of the Atlantic Fleet with his flag in the pre-dreadnought battleship Albermarle. In October he was knighted and invested as KCVO. His year afloat included an early experience of long-range battle practice. His return to the Admiralty as controller, after only one year afloat, reflected the reality of the naval situation. Faced by the challenge of the imperial German navy Fisher wanted to deter war by a combination of numerical superiority and aggressive posturing. However, the Liberal government elected in 1906 was anxious to reduce defence spending, and cut back the naval programmes that would have maintained the advantage secured by the sudden appearance of the Dreadnought. Consequently Fisher needed his best brains at the Admiralty to win the naval race, not at sea preparing to fight a war he was anxious to avoid. As a result Jellicoe spent relatively little time at sea between 1900 and 1914, and even less in positions of ultimate authority. If Fisher really saw him as a second Nelson—he declared, ‘Sir John Jellicoe is the future Nelson—he is incomparably the ablest sea Admiral we have’ in October 1911 (Marder, Fear God, 2.397)—then he made a serious error in keeping him at Whitehall for so much of his career. Jellicoe helped to secure the naval programme of 1908–9, when eight battleships were ordered. These ships made a vital difference, winning the naval race and providing a numerical edge at Jutland. By contrast his efforts to improve the effectiveness of armour-piercing shells for long-range fire were incomplete when he left office, and remained so until after Jutland. Jellicoe knew that Fisher's much vaunted ships were actually inferior to their German opposite numbers on a ship-for-ship basis, notably with less armour and internal subdivision. The British ships were far cheaper than their German equivalents. This was the real cost of winning the naval race on constrained budgets.

Fleet Command and Admiralty, 1910–1914

In December 1910 Jellicoe, as acting vice-admiral, took command of the Atlantic Fleet, aboard the pre-dreadnought Prince of Wales. The following year he became second in command of the Home Fleet, under Sir George Callaghan, with his flag in the dreadnought Hercules to gain some experience of dreadnought fleets. His old captain from Ramillies, Francis Bridgeman, warned Fisher that Jellicoe was too anxious, and undertook too much himself.

At present he puts himself in the position of a glorified gunnery lieutenant. This will not do when he gets a big fleet. He must trust his staff and captains and if they don't fit he must kick them out. (Marder, Fear God, 2.418–19)

This failing reflected both the nature of the man, and the cultural conditioning of the past two decades. Although he could see flaws in everything and everyone, Jellicoe lacked the ruthlessness to sack the incompetents, made too many allowances for old friends, and did too much of everyone else's work. Even the hard lessons of war would not change him.

In December 1912 he returned to the Admiralty as second sea lord, with responsibility for manning and discipline. Even out of office Fisher continued to pull the strings of Jellicoe's career: in 1912 he persuaded the new first lord, Winston Churchill, to make a wholesale clearance of the navy list, to place Jellicoe in the supreme command afloat in 1914, the year he had long anticipated war would break out. In the interval Fisher tried, with limited success, to coach him in the virtues of independent squadron tactics. He used them as a subordinate in the 1912 manoeuvres, but never as a commander-in-chief. Jellicoe also supervised the trials of Percy Scott's director firing system, and played a (historically) controversial part in approving the adoption of Captain F.C. Dreyer's fire-control system. In 1913 he took temporary command of the ‘hostile’ fleet in the annual manoeuvres, exploiting favourable rules to get the better of Sir George Callaghan's ‘British’ fleet. However, this success afloat was a temporary distraction; Jellicoe was increasingly occupied by the threat of German mines, U-boats, mass torpedo attacks, and Zeppelin scouting. He shared Fisher's opinion that the North Sea was no place for a battlefleet, and yet objected to his mentor's schemes which were intended to draw the German fleet into battle by threatening to occupy the Baltic, or stage large-scale amphibious operations.

Crisis and War, 1914–1916

After a period of sick leave on the continent Jellicoe returned to London in July 1914 to find himself appointed second in command of the Grand Fleet, which contained all the modern battleships. It had been intended that he would succeed Callaghan in October, but the July crisis hastened the process. After arriving at Scapa Flow Jellicoe was ordered to relieve Callaghan, a step against which he protested vehemently, not once but four times. Finally on 4 August he went aboard the Iron Duke, and took command. Churchill and Prince Louis of Battenberg had completed Fisher's plan. The step was more bold than brilliant, for Callaghan had the confidence of the entire service, the worship of his fleet, and a wealth of experience. Furthermore, despite Churchill's claims, he was in fine health, unlike Jellicoe. Had the fleet been forced into battle at any time before the end of the year Callaghan's abrupt dismissal would have seemed, in retrospect, to have been among Churchill's worst decisions of the year. Had Jellicoe been left in place as second in command he could have developed his grasp of the fleet under less trying circumstances, profited from the wisdom of the older man, and arrived at the supreme command in better health. This he recognized, and far from grasping at the high command went far beyond mere common decency in his attempts to stave off his fate.

Jellicoe took command aged fifty-five, a small (5 feet 6 inches), wiry man of quick and precise movements.

His mind was a well-ordered filing system of detail, reflected by his small, neat person, the tight mouth, and the watchful brown eyes that looked out steadily past the prominent nose. His manner was cool, controlled, and always polite. (Barnett, 109)

He would need all of his qualities for the campaign that would follow. In the strategy designed by Fisher, and developed by the secretary of the committee of imperial defence, Maurice Hankey, the Grand Fleet would control the war, denying Germany contact with the outside world, cutting her trade, and crippling her economy by blockade. There was no need to seek out the enemy battlefleet, because the Grand Fleet already held all the strategic advantages; it was up to the Germans to seek battle at a time and place of Jellicoe's choosing if they wanted to change matters. This they would be reluctant to do, for the inner logic of the Tirpitz plan, and the end of the naval race in 1912, a crushing British victory, had left their fleet inferior to the British. The whole structure reflected the genius of one man, Fisher, and he had selected the calm, controlled Jellicoe for the most tedious task. One has to conclude that he knew his man, and did not mean the Nelson comparison to be taken too literally.

In the first months of the war Jellicoe's prime concern was to preserve his occasionally slender margin of superiority, at a time when his main base at Scapa Flow lacked any security against submarines. Elements of the fleet were detached, his ships suffered from a rash of technical problems, and their vulnerability was emphasized by the loss of the modern dreadnought Audacious to a single mine on 27 October. Well aware of German technical prowess Jellicoe kept his fleet at sea for long periods, learning how to handle the largest fleet yet assembled. His natural caution, allied to years of conditioning, made him an arch centralizer. This tendency was reinforced by the low opinion he held of many of his key subordinates, and resulted in the production of the stifling ‘Grand Fleet battle orders’, a massive compendium intended to allow the fleet to be controlled by flag signals. They ‘verged upon an attempt to foresee and provide for all contingencies’ (Patterson, Jellicoe, 67). He was reducing the possibilities of a fleet battle to a single scenario.

Lacking the hard test of battle, and the ruthlessness that characterized Fisher's career, Jellicoe patiently built up his fleet, his base, and his methods, settling into a routine. In essence he developed a system to work with limitations that he either could not, or in the case of junior commanders, would not, deal with. By reducing his squadron commanders to signal-driven automata he reduced the chances both of defeat, and of victory. In October 1914 he secured Admiralty acquiescence for his reluctance to go too far south, or chase a fleeing enemy too closely for fear of mines. Although the whole world expected a big battle, replaying Trafalgar, Jellicoe knew that the high seas fleet was far better than Villeneuve's scratch force, while his own fleet lacked the battle experience, initiative, and drive that had enabled Nelson to overwhelm his enemy. In falling back on rigid control systems Jellicoe was, unknowingly, replaying an earlier period of British naval activity, when similar rules had been introduced to avoid costly errors by inexperienced officers.

By mid-1915 Jellicoe's margin of superiority over the German fleet was large enough to cover refits and still leave him with a markedly larger battlefleet. German battle cruiser raids on such important military targets as the seaside resorts of Scarborough and Great Yarmouth had failed to bring on the detached squadron action they sought. Despite the boredom and bleak surroundings of Scapa the morale of the Grand Fleet held up well, a major effort being put into sports, entertainment, and other activities. Once again Jellicoe earned the lifelong devotion of his officers and men by his thoughtful and humane leadership. What little glory fell to the Royal Navy in the North Sea in the first two years of war went to the Battle-Cruiser Fleet under Vice-Admiral Sir David Beatty, leaving the Grand Fleet to practise ship handling, squadron manoeuvres, and gunnery, waiting for Der Tag.

The Battle of Jutland, 1916

Their chance came at the end of May 1916, when the new German commander-in-chief, Admiral Reinhard Scheer, adopted a more aggressive policy. He planned to sortie into the North Sea, setting a submarine ambush, and seeking an engagement with a portion of Jellicoe's fleet. However, Scheer did not realize that British naval intelligence was reading his wireless signals, and was able to forewarn Jellicoe that something was happening, if not the exact details. Consequently Jellicoe put to sea late on 30 May, long before Scheer, and arranged to rendezvous with Beatty off the Jutland peninsula at 2 p.m. the following afternoon. Yet the Admiralty mishandled critical intelligence on the composition and location of the German fleet, giving him no reason to suspect that the whole German fleet had left harbour. Consequently Jellicoe did not hurry to the rendezvous. The Admiralty would be equally negligent on the following day, failing to send the powerful Harwich flotilla to join him. His subordinates compounded his problems by failing to relay tactical information on a day when no one could hope to obtain a full picture of events.

At 2.20 p.m. one of Beatty's light cruisers reported contact with the enemy, and Jellicoe then increased to full speed. At 2.35 p.m., long before the two main fleets came into contact, their advanced forces, Beatty's Battle-Cruiser Fleet and Vice-Admiral Franz Hipper's first scouting group, were in action. In his anxiety to engage the retreating enemy Beatty lost touch with his supporting force, the four very powerful fast battleships of Vice-Admiral Hugh Evan-Thomas's 5th battle squadron, and compromised the fire-control analysis of his ships. When the battle cruisers opened fire at 3.48 p.m. Hipper's five ships, with the advantage of better light conditions, outshot Beatty's six, one of which exploded. Although Evan-Thomas managed to regain contact by 4.06 p.m., another of Beatty's ships exploded twenty minutes later. Both ships were destroyed after shells penetrated their turrets, the flash of exploding ammunition passing down into the magazine, igniting hundreds of tons of volatile high explosive. The flash travelled down the magazine hoists because the battle cruisers had removed the safety interlocks to increase their rate of fire, to compensate for poor gunnery. Jellicoe did not know of these losses until after the battle.

When the leading ships of Scheer's main fleet were sighted at 4.33 p.m. Beatty turned north, leading Hipper and Scheer towards Jellicoe, who was coming south at 20 knots. Aboard the Iron Duke he was largely blind; only the reports from Commodore William Goodenough's 2nd cruiser squadron, which was with Beatty's force, were particularly accurate. Consequently he did not know the exact bearing on which the enemy was steering, or when he could expect to encounter them. In addition he was uncertain as to the exact number of ships the Germans had brought out, and their order of sailing. However, there had never been any doubt in his mind that he would deploy his six columns of sailing into a single line ahead on the port column, a manoeuvre he ordered at 6.14 p.m. This would secure the best light conditions for gunnery, place his most powerful ships in the van, with his flagship one-third distance from the head of the line, and position his fleet between Scheer and the German bases. Just before the two fleets came into contact, the 3rd battle-cruiser squadron (Rear-Admiral Sir Horace Hood) drove Hipper's battle cruisers off course, denying Scheer his only chance to obtain any tactical information, before Hood's flagship blew up. The sudden appearance of Scheer's leading units to the south-west, not the south as expected, was a shock, but Jellicoe already had the Grand Fleet into line with the visibility in their favour in time for a classic crossing the T manoeuvre, enabling his leading ships to open fire at 6.23 p.m. and inflict serious damage on the three leading German battleships. In the poor visibility Scheer could not see his enemy, but realized that he had no option but to retreat, and he ordered a complex and risky manoeuvre, the ‘battle-turn-away’, which required all his ships to reverse course together. In poor and inconsistent visibility Jellicoe was not aware of the manoeuvre, and was never able to form a comprehensive impression of the battle.

At 7.10 p.m. Scheer, having inexplicably reversed course, was once again hammered by the Grand Fleet. The gunnery of Iron Duke (Captain Frederick Dreyer) was particularly good. Once again Scheer turned away and fled into the combination of haze, coal smoke, and cordite fumes that shrouded the battlefield. This time Scheer covered his retreat with a massed torpedo attack, something Jellicoe had long feared. He responded, as he had always intended, by turning his fleet away, to outrun the torpedoes and present the minimum target. There were no hits, but Scheer escaped.

Twice Jellicoe had briefly been able to fight the battle he wanted, a medium-range gunnery duel with his fleet in line ahead engaging the enemy who had very few guns bearing. This maximized his strength in heavy guns, exploited his simple fire-control calculators, and avoided the need for lower level initiative. However, poor visibility, lack of time, and defective armour-piercing shells denied him victory that day. He made no effort to regain contact with Scheer. Believing night actions were a lottery he would wait until the morning. Confident that he had outfought Scheer and outmanoeuvred him, to secure the critical advantage of laying between Scheer and his bases he only had to hold his position to produce a ‘glorious first of June’ to eclipse Lord Howe's victory. He did not attempt to keep contact with the German fleet, or divide his fleet to cover the two routes by which Scheer could return to Germany through the minefields. Placing his destroyer flotillas astern of the battle fleet to avoid friendly fire incidents Jellicoe continued towards the southern route. By 10 p.m. the Admiralty knew that Scheer had ordered a Zeppelin reconnaissance over the northern route, the Horn's Reef, for the following dawn, but failed to pass on the information. As if that were not enough Scheer was then able to push through the rear of the British fleet, often in clear sight of battleship captains, junior admirals, and other commanders, who failed to engage, and assumed that Jellicoe could also see what was happening. Despite heavy firing and some serious losses among light craft, Jellicoe was never made aware of the situation. The following morning he was left to cruise around a battlefield strewn with wreckage and corpses. Scheer had escaped. Jellicoe had lost a unique opportunity to have a positive impact on the course of the war. Churchill famously said that he was the only man who could have lost the war in an afternoon. He could also have helped to shorten it by destroying the high seas fleet, and Scheer gave him three chances to do just that. While the advance to Jutland was strategically aggressive, the battle being fought far closer to the German ports than it was to Scapa, Jellicoe lacked the remorseless urge to victory, and linked hatred of the enemy, that dominated Nelson's career. He was the safe choice to command the Grand Fleet, a task for which Nelson was never considered suitable.

The Aftermath of Jutland

After the battle the German government claimed a momentous victory, on the spurious grounds that they had sunk more British ships than they had lost. This led to some public criticism of the admiral and his fleet. In fact the Grand Fleet had a greater margin of superiority over the high seas fleet after the battle than it had possessed before, as many of the German ships would be in dockyard hands for months. More significantly Jellicoe realized that there would be no more major fleet actions, the Germans having been too roughly handled to risk another Jutland. Henceforth the naval challenge would come from the U-boats. Once the reality of what had occurred at Jutland had been accepted, namely that the British had won a significant strategic victory, confirming their dominance of the world's oceans, the ignorant attacks subsided. The initial success of German propaganda ultimately rebounded on them. However, even before his dispatch had been completed, Jellicoe had further cause for self-doubt: on 5 June the cruiser Hampshire sank after striking a mine shortly after leaving Scapa on a route he had advised; among those lost was the secretary of state for war, Lord Kitchener.

The lessons of the battle were studied in detail by Grand Fleet committees, notably the adequacy of protection against long-range fire, and the performance of armour-piercing shells. Grand Fleet battle orders were modified, introducing a few new alternatives, but in essence they remained centralized. Jellicoe was anxious to reduce the chance that the battle cruisers could become engaged with the enemy too far ahead of the battle fleet. At the Admiralty the handling of signals intelligence was improved and integrated into the naval staff. The package of reforms, improvements, and modifications that were put in place greatly enhanced the combat effectiveness of the Grand Fleet. As Arthur Marder argued, ‘His true greatness as a fleet commander lay in his capitalisation on the lessons of Jutland’ (Marder, From the Dreadnought, 3.285).

There was even another chance of battle. On 19 August Scheer sortied in an attempt to draw Jellicoe into another submarine ambush. This time the nervous German admiral was misled by his Zeppelins, and there was no contact, although Jellicoe lost two cruisers to submarines. Thereafter both he and Beatty agreed that the fleet should not go further south than the site of the Jutland battle, relying on the blockade to bring the Germans to give battle under circumstances favourable to the British. The Admiralty concurred in this sound policy. Having failed to alter the balance of heavy surface forces the Germans switched their submarines back to attacking merchant shipping on 6 October, although still under restrictions agreed with the United States. This deprived Scheer of the only ‘leveller’ that would warrant another sortie, and condemned the Grand Fleet to two more years of waiting. However, the problem would from now on be only a part of Jellicoe's remit. If he had been stretched to the limit of his capacity, and rather beyond his education and experience, as commander-in-chief of the Grand Fleet, Jellicoe was about to face an altogether more imposing set of demands.

Admiralty and U-boat Threat, 1916–1918

Jellicoe left the Grand Fleet with a heavy heart on 28 November, and arrived at the Admiralty on 4 December 1916 to relieve the uninspiring technocrat Admiral Sir Henry Jackson as first sea lord. He had accepted the call to the highest office, like so much else, from a sense of duty, but without enthusiasm. In his new post Jellicoe was responsible for advising the cabinet on the overall direction of the war at sea; his primary task was to combat the submarine threat to merchant shipping. Although Jellicoe was widely regarded as the one man capable of meeting the challenge, Fisher did not think he would be able to deal with politicians. In addition Jellicoe was exhausted and in poor health, problems which stemmed from his style of leadership and approach to command, and only exacerbated his natural caution. The impact of the renewed German campaign was immediate, and it was only a question of time before the Germans adopted unrestricted attacks. Having failed to secure victory on land, and suffering heavy attrition at Verdun and in the Somme, the German high command decided to shift its main effort to the sea. The commanders were convinced they could defeat Britain by unrestricted U-boat warfare in six month, sinking enough tons of shipping to starve Britain out of the war and bring down the entire alliance. If they were correct, the intervention of the United States would be too late. Unrestricted U-boat warfare began on 1 February 1917. Within two months shipping losses had reached the staggering level of 800,000 tons per month, while the U-boats seemed to be immune.

Jellicoe had no simple answer to the U-boats. He argued that the problem had to be considered as a whole and a range of measures taken to deal with it. He installed a new set of sea lords, added a fifth, and created an anti-submarine division of the naval staff with a mandate to co-ordinate all relevant activity. In addition he added a trade division to the naval intelligence department, opening the prospect of integrating shipping, ports, inland transport, and import priorities into an overall policy. This new division was headed by Rear-Admiral Alexander Duff, a trusted Grand Fleet officer. Unfortunately for Jellicoe the new naval staff proved far from harmonious—junior officers critical of Duff and Jellicoe passed information and opinions to the secretary of the committee of imperial defence, Maurice Hankey, as a conduit to the prime minister, Lloyd George. Lloyd George was also receiving criticism of Jellicoe and the Admiralty from the Grand Fleet. Ultimately the system of convoying merchant ships with warship escorts would prove decisive—denying the U-boats the chance to attack without risking their own destruction. Jellicoe has been widely criticized for not adopting this measure more quickly, a charge that presupposes the concept was generally accepted, easy to introduce, and risk free. In fact Jellicoe, as might be expected, moved cautiously, introducing convoy on the Scandinavian and French coal trade routes in January and February 1917. When these experiments proved successful he regularized the routes in mid-April, and added a new convoy route between Gibraltar and Britain. In his War Memoirs Lloyd George claimed that his visit to the Admiralty on 30 April 1917 forced the Admiralty to adopt the convoy; but this, like much else in the book, was spurious. In fact he spent most of the time playing with Jellicoe's young daughters. His well-known anxiety for action may have provided a stimulus, but this had been effective long before the end of April. Duff's report in favour of the convoy had already been issued on the 26th.

Shortly afterwards Lloyd George sent Sir Eric Geddes to the Admiralty as a civilian controller of shipbuilding and procurement, and a harbinger of his efforts to gain control of naval policy. Throughout 1917 there was a widespread, if unfocused feeling that the Admiralty and the navy were lacking initiative and drive. This reflected a complete ignorance of the effectiveness of the blockade in strangling the German economy, confining the conflict to Europe, and securing access to the resources of manpower, finished goods, and raw materials of the rest of the world. As in the major wars of the past the long-drawn-out struggle of attrition provided few moments of glory to punctuate the tedium. Jellicoe, a convinced ‘Westerner’ in grand strategy, believed that victory could only be achieved by defeating the Germans in home waters, and in France. He prepared a major amphibious operation for the Belgian coast, to be carried out if Field Marshal Haig's Paschendaele offensive reached key targets. The offensive, aimed at German U-boat bases in Belgium, had been largely developed in response to the submarine threat. When it failed the amphibious operations were cancelled.

As Fisher had anticipated Jellicoe proved to be less effective at Whitehall and in cabinet meetings than he had been aboard the Iron Duke. He was undemonstrative, lacked oratorical gifts, and was characteristically cautious, tending towards outright pessimism, an approach that was diametrically opposed to that of Lloyd George. The continuing high level of merchant-ship losses did nothing to improve his standing. He had already put in place the convoy system as the critical element in an all-round approach to meeting the threat, but the ultimate success of his measures would only become clear with the benefit of post-war analysis. He lacked the high-level social contacts, outgoing personality, and political sense to be a great first sea lord. Lloyd George disliked both his gloomy perspective and his refusal to join attacks on Haig. Haig repaid his professional loyalty by intriguing against him with everyone who would listen, from the king and Sir Max Aitken to Asquith. However, Lloyd George lacked the political strength to sack Jellicoe in July 1917, restricting himself to replacing his strongest supporter, the first lord, Sir Edward Carson, with Geddes, who was very much the prime minister's man. In September Geddes brought Admiral Sir Rosslyn Wemyss to the Admiralty as deputy first sea lord. Then at 6 p.m. on Christmas eve 1917 Geddes sacked Jellicoe, choosing his moment to reduce the amount of adverse publicity. The other sea lords threatened to resign as a body, but were dissuaded by Jellicoe and the civilian members of the Admiralty. Whether Jellicoe should have been replaced, and his weariness, ill health, and gloom suggest he was due for a well-earned rest, the manner of his dismissal was deeply offensive both to the man and to the service. That he never complained of his treatment reflected his immense personal dignity.

Assessment of Jellicoe as First Sea Lord

Jellicoe's legacy as first sea lord was the system that defeated the U-boats in 1918. He also remedied the defects shown up at Jutland, improving magazine safety and armour-piercing shells; maintained the successful naval strategy against pressure from ill-advised politicians, at the time when American entry into the war allowed the blockade to be made more rigorous; and established excellent relations with the new belligerent, through his long-standing friendship with their senior officer in Europe, Admiral William Sims USN. There had been no glory and little reward in his year at Whitehall, but he had done his duty to the best of his ability. He was still an arch centralizer, reluctant to delegate, and unable to avoid immersion in trivia that should have been handled at a far lower level. In attending to these comforting reminders of happier days he neglected the higher direction of the war and the vital business of cabinet level co-operation. His successor immediately divested himself of all such routine tasks, without adversely affecting the conduct of the war.

On 15 January 1918 he was ennobled as Viscount Jellicoe of Scapa. He had already received the GCVO and the Order of Merit in 1916, to which he would add a variety of foreign orders and decorations, the freedom of several cities, and honorary degrees. He devoted his new found freedom to writing a narrative of his war. The first volume, The Grand Fleet, 1914–1916, was published in 1919; The Crisis of the Naval War appeared in 1920. Although useful sources they were limited by the need for secrecy, and the lack of any sense of deep personal involvement. In May 1918 it was proposed that he should become allied commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean, but the Italian government refused to entrust their battle fleet to a foreign officer. Through an oversight neither he nor Fisher were invited to witness the surrender of the high seas fleet on 20 November 1918. In 1918 his only son, George Patrick John Rushworth, later second Earl Jellicoe, was born. He was the last of his six children, one of his daughters dying in infancy. In January 1919 Jellicoe received the thanks of both houses of parliament, a grant of £50,000, and promotion to admiral of the fleet.

Post-war, 1918–1935

In August 1918 the dominion prime ministers had urged the Admiralty to send a senior officer to advise them on the creation of dominion navies. These were to be independent, but linked to the Royal Navy. They favoured Jellicoe for the mission. Both the Admiralty and the admiral would have preferred a single imperial navy, but this was not an option. Jellicoe received little guidance from an Admiralty board which was probably only too pleased to send him round the world at that time. He left England on 21 February 1919, aboard the battle cruiser New Zealand. He viewed Japan as the likely future enemy, and advised that a 100 per cent superiority would be required on account of the vast distances involved. He called for a powerful fleet to be based in the Far East; Australia and New Zealand would contribute ships, while India paid for cruisers and smaller vessels and the Royal Navy provided the battle fleet. He recognized that a lack of dock and base facilities was the major weakness of the imperial position. He stressed the need for the officer corps of all the navies to be integrated, using the Royal Navy as the common standard. While he was warmly received everywhere, and worked hard on his reports, Jellicoe's mission was eccentric to the post-war planning of the Admiralty and was overtaken by the Washington treaty of 1922, which crippled British and dominion seapower. The Singapore naval base, the Royal Indian Navy and the New Zealand division were the enduring legacies of the tour. After a visit to the United States he hauled down his flag for the last time at Spithead on 4 February 1920.

On his return to Britain Jellicoe was drawn into the growing controversy over the conduct and consequences of Jutland. Wemyss had ordered a purely narrative account to be prepared, but when Beatty replaced him as first sea lord on 1 November 1919, he objected to certain passages that he felt did not do full justice to the Battle-Cruiser Fleet. When Jellicoe was shown Beatty's amendments he refused to take up his appointment as governor-general of New Zealand until he was satisfied that they would not be published. Unable to resolve the clash between Beatty's perceptions and Jellicoe's evidence the Admiralty postponed publication. Beatty then commissioned a naval staff appreciation, which turned out to be strongly pro-Beatty, and not particularly accurate. Even when toned down for publication in 1924 as the Admiralty Narrative this document remained divisive. Jellicoe considered it grossly inaccurate. He particularly resented the treatment of his lifelong friend Hugh Evan-Thomas, who had been blamed for allowing the distance between his squadron and the battle cruisers to become too great on two vital occasions. Evan-Thomas, distressed by the document, had a stroke. Jellicoe believed the fault, on both occasions, was due to Beatty's incompetent signal staff. When the Official History of Naval Operations reached Jutland (in 1922 with volume 3), Sir Julian Corbett's careful account was criticized for being written from Jellicoe's perspective, and minimizing the importance of forcing the battle to a decisive conclusion. In truth Corbett understood the strategy of the North Sea, and the role of the battle, far better than his critics. Jellicoe kept out of the public controversy, and although he did prepare a revised edition of The Grand Fleet, which contained more criticism of Beatty, refuting the major points raised by the Admiralty Narrative, the market for such books was exhausted.

Between 1920 and 1924 Jellicoe was governor-general of New Zealand, where he built on the popularity evident in 1919, and modernized the way in which the office was exercised, making himself accessible to all. Typically he was always busy either travelling, speaking, working, sailing, or playing golf. Much as he enjoyed the post he declined a further term in order to take his children back to Britain for their education. He left New Zealand in November 1924, being elevated to earl in the following June in recognition of his services.

Unfortunately the Jutland controversy flared up again with Admiral Bacon's The Jutland Scandal, a violently pro-Jellicoe account, the translation of the German official account, which also favoured Jellicoe, and Churchill's version, which leant heavily on the Admiralty Narrative and was highly critical of his caution. Only in 1927 did something like a consensus begin to emerge, to be revisited from time to time from that day to this. Jutland retains an enduring fascination, both as the only full-scale naval battle of the dreadnought era, and as one of history's great talking points.

The next battle for Jellicoe was with Lloyd George's version of the decision to adopt the convoy, which Sir Henry Newbolt was about to repeat in volume five of the Official History. When the relevant volume of Lloyd George's War Memoirs appeared in 1934 Jellicoe responded with a new account of 1917, The Submarine Peril, which came out in the same year.

When he returned to Britain Jellicoe remained devoted to public service, dividing his time between London county council, the Empire Service League, the Boy Scouts, the National Rifle Association, and four years as president of the British Legion. These were all active roles, and it was typical that he should have caught a chill while planting poppies on 9 November 1935, and then attended an Armistice day service in defiance of medical advice. The chill developed into pneumonia and he died at his home, 39 Egerton Gardens, Chelsea, on 19 November. He was buried at St Paul's Cathedral on 25 November, alongside Nelson and Collingwood.