Stand By Your Glasses Steady

by Hap Rocketto

How rare is it that protocol comes near to sparking an international incident at a rifle match banquet? Not too often I suspect, but there I sat, surrounded by all of the pomp and circumstance of a formal banquet trying to defuse one with my rather spotty knowledge of the history of Great Britain.

It was at the banquet sponsored by the National Smallbore Rifle Association of Great Britain to celebrate the firing of the Sixth Roberts Trophy Match. We had worked our way through what our hosts call “starters” and what we call an appetizer. In this case an excellent Parma Ham accompanied by thin slices of cool, crisp, and sweet Honeydew melon hat led to the excellent buffet dinner.

I was seated next to George Lawson and his wife Jean. Lawson, A Scot and the Chief Range Officer at the Bisley Meeting, has wormed his way in the United States Team’s collective heart via his deep baritone voice, rich Scottish burr, and good natured humor. As we hung targets he constantly reminded us to place, “Competitor and Firing Point Number-Twice on the card and once on the backer.” When we returned to the firing line he chivied us along with his commands of “All persons not shooting on the detail please leave the firing point. Settle down. Stand by.” In a few seconds the detail started with the sounding of an electronic buzzer.

We were a far cry away from the military regimentation of Camp Perry. The relays, ‘details,’ at Bisley, ran like clockwork, seemingly without any rush. From time to time George would come on the “Tannoy”, the public address system at Bisley, and mention that there had been far more targets taken than backers taken and that the meeting was not a resupply point for individuals or clubs. He might offer a short discourse on the weather or what ever was of interest to him at the moment.

While he seemed to be a genial old duffer he was dead serious about running a safe and efficient match. He was keenly observant of what was going on about him, be it on the firing line or at the dinner table and therein lies the tale.

With our meal compete the after dinner program signaled when our host rose and asked all present to charge our glasses and be upstanding, was about to begin. The conversation died away to the sound of the scraping of chairs as we stood to join our host in raising our glasses as he offer the Loyal Toast by intoning, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Queen. “This was followed by a plethora of murmured “God Bless Her!” from various members of the assembled multitudes.

I had an opening to show off, and I did not waste it, remarking to my tablemates that had we been dining in the Navy Club, as opposed to the Army Target Shooting Club, we would not have to stand for, in the Royal Navy, when the Loyal Toast is given all attendees remain seated. I went on to explain that this privilege has been in effect since the days of King William IV, who had served as a naval officer in the late 1780s. Standing quickly in the wardroom to give the toast he had struck his head a solid blow against the overhead. Not wishing to cause similar discomfort to his fellow officers he magnanimously authorized that in the future the Royal Navy was to toast him while sitting down. The tradition remains to this day. I like to think that my dinner companions were dazzled by my intimate knowledge of the more esoteric aspects of their culture but it was more likely that they were just tolerant of my lack of humility

It was our turn to make our toast. The senior rifleman in our party, a retired military officer and very conservative man, rose to his feet. Lifting his glass high he growled out, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the Office of The President of the United States.” There was clinking of glass and an echoing of the toast.

When we sat George looked over with a quizzical expression. He asked about, what seemed to him, a slight change in wording. “Should not he have said, “Ladies and gentlemen, The President of the United States?” I was a bit taken aback by the question and, thinking quickly, asked him that, as a Scot, did he remember Charles Edward Stuart.

“Of course!” he replied and quickly ran down the history of the last Stuart queen of England, Anne, who was succeeded by George, Elector of Hanover, who was German and, even knowing that he would one day rule England, spoke no English and made no attempt to do so when he assumed the throne.

King George took the throne quietly, but there were many people, both in England and in Scotland, who fanned the flames of again having a Stewart reign. A likely candidate was Queen Anne’s brother James, the Pretender to the throne, who was living in France, “over the water.”

I then asked George, “What did the Jacobites, as those who clung to the Stewart cause were called, do when the Loyal Toast was proposed in those days?

He looked at me little surprised that I might know this little bit of trivia and then smiled. “Why, of course they would pass their glasses over the water jug, silently toasting, not the disinterested King, “German George”, but Bonnie Prince Charlie-the king over the water. A most defiant gesture for they risked a charge of treason with the act.”

Grinning back at him I explained that the senor rifleman was sort of an American Jacobite who had not rested well since the last election. We amiably went off together to gather the sweets and cheese and biscuits set out for dessert and to sample the Port, as it was passed to the left, grinning inwardly at the subtle nature of the protocol of politics.