The Duchess of Windsor

by Diana Mosley

  Back in London the King saw his three brothers one by one and told them of his resolve. Walter Monckton wrote when it was all over that nobody would every really understand the Abdication who did not realize

  the intensity and depth of the King’s devotion to Mrs Simpson. To him she was the perfect woman. She insisted that he should be at his best and do his best at all times, and he regarded her as his inspiration. It is a great mistake to assume that he was merely in love with her in the ordinary physical sense of the term. There was an intellectual companionship and there is no doubt that his lonely nature found in her a spiritual companionship.

  He goes on to say that there was a religious side to the problem, the King having strong standards of right and wrong. ‘One sometimes felt that the God in whom he believed was a God who dealt him trumps all the time … but that view does him less than justice.’ He hated the cant and humbug which would have liked to keep him on the Throne with Wallis as his mistress, he hated much of what he saw in the conventional morality.

  While the King was in South Wales Esmond Harmsworth invited Wallis to lunch with him at Claridges and made the suggestion that she should marry the King as his morganatic wife. Being an American, she was interested in the idea which was novel to her and which in fact, given the King’s chivalrous nature, was probably an almost impossible one. A morganatic wife is a second-class wife, the target of every petty-minded Court official and the recipient of endless pin-pricks. King Edward knew what the position entailed; not only was his own grandfather, Francis of Teck, the child of a morganatic marriage, a fact which but for Queen Victoria’s common sense might have ruined the marriage prospects of his mother Queen Mary, but a more recent case was also well known to him. It was that of the heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand. The Emperor Franz Josef had given Countess Sophie Chotek the title of Fürstin Hohenberg, but she had been very much a second-class wife right up to the day when she and her husband, side by side in the carriage at Sarajevo, were both assassinated. Nevertheless the King put the idea to Mr Baldwin, who seized upon it, knowing full well that the Cabinet and the Dominions would turn it down; as a nasty foreign notion it would not go a yard. It is quite a good example of Mr Baldwin’s devious methods that he pretended to consider seriously the idea of a morganatic marriage. Lord Beaverbrook, now back in London, saw in a moment that the King had made a tactical error for he knew as well as Baldwin what the response of the Dominions would be. Yet it was, in fact, the only alternative to abdication.

  The King saw various ministers who were friends of his and also Winston Churchill who was out of office. Churchill, Duff Cooper and Beaverbrook all urged delay. They wanted Mrs Simpson to go abroad for the winter, and they wanted the King to be crowned on 12 May and then it would be time to think again. This idea was unacceptable to the King. Coronation is a solemn sacrament, the King is anointed with ‘holy oil’; to be crowned, and make a number of vows he was not prepared to keep, was a cynicism of which he was incapable.

  All this time Wallis had the almost impossible task of trying to induce him to change his mind and allow her to leave the country and yet not to hurt his feelings at a desperate juncture when he needed her as never before. She knew that nothing could ever be the same again. Either she would lose the King, his wonderful love for her, the fairy-story life she had been leading during the last two years, or the King would lose his throne. Wallis had no illusions. She did, however, suggest that he might speak on the wireless to the whole nation.

  The press storm finally burst after the Bishop of Bradford said at his Diocesan conference on 1 December that he regretted the King had not shown more positive evidence of his awareness of the need for Divine guidance. This was taken to mean guidance as to his marriage, although in his Bradford fastness the Bishop had never heard of Mrs Simpson, or any of the gossip newspaper offices were seething with, and was rather impertinently advocating regular church attendance for the King. Next day the provincial press carried the story, and on 3 December the national newspapers followed. They were their easily predictable selves; The Times trying to be statesmanlike, while the Daily Express and the Daily Mail, reflecting the opinion of their owners, were all for the King. ‘The people want their King,’ said the Daily Mail. The News Chronicle had a leader advocating morganatic marriage.

  Stanley Baldwin leaving No. 10 Downing St during the Abdication crisis. Lord Beaverbrook (below) hoped to ‘bugger Baldwin’ by his intervention.

  Wallis and her aunt had moved to the Fort, because in London she was stared at every time she left her house; she was also getting anonymous and threatening letters. When she saw her photograph splashed all over the front pages, she tells us she said: ‘David, I’m going to leave. I should have gone when you showed me Hardinge’s letter. But now nothing you can say will hold me here any longer.’ The King did not argue the point this time. He telephoned Lord Brownlow and asked him to take Wallis to France, where Mr and Mrs Herman Rogers invited her to stay with them.

  Lord Brownlow lost no time, but why he (or the King) decided they should motor to their destination is a mystery. The obvious way to travel would have been by train; with the blinds drawn newspapermen and photographers would have been thwarted. They were to take the ferry to Dieppe, and on the way Lord Brownlow suggested it might he better after all for them to go to his house, Belton. ‘By leaving him to make up his mind alone you will almost certainly bring to pass the conclusion that you and all of us are so anxious to avert.’ She asked him what he meant. ‘What I’m getting at is simply this,’ said Lord Brownlow. ‘With you gone the King will not stay in England.’ He further told her that the King had confided in him that his mind was made up, that unless the Government gave way he would abdicate. ‘Knowing David as I did,’ wrote Wallis in her memoirs, ‘I was more than doubtful that anyone, including me, could change his mind. If I stayed and my pleas failed, I should always be accused of secretly urging him to give up the Throne.’

  They drove on to Newhaven, discussing how they could persuade the King ‘to give up the idea of marriage and thus end the crisis.’ They had the King’s driver, Ladbroke, and Inspector Evans, an experienced detective, with them, and their dash across France in Wallis’ Buick was a nightmare. They had left the Fort on 3 December; not until early morning on the 6th did they reach the Villa Lou Viei near Cannes. In those days there were no motorways, they were obliged to go through innumerable towns and villages. Reporters lay in wait for them at every turn.

  Wallis with her detective, Inspector Evans, leaving the Hôtel de la Poste in Rouen, during her nightmare dash across France to sanctuary at Lou Viei, chased by the press of the world.

  Wherever they stopped, Wallis telephoned the King. Anyone who used the French telephone for long-distance calls in the thirties can picture the misery of it. The lines were hopelessly bad, he only seemed to hear half of what she was trying to tell him, imploring him to stand firm. She had to shout, so that Lord Brownlow was afraid the reporters would hear, and at the other end of the line, according to Walter Monckton who was now living at the Fort, the King had to shout so that the entire household heard what he was saying. The British Secret Service listened in to those hectic and frustrating dialogues, and the click of the listener-in was constantly heard, a very tiresome sound because it gives the illusion that the communication is about to be cut off. After lunch at Evreux, Wallis left the notes she had made for her telephone call behind, but there was nothing to be done, they had to press on.

  They slept at Blois, leaving the hotel at 3 a.m. in order to evade the reporters, but in Lyons they had to stop and ask the way. Wallis was instantly recognized by a passerby who cried out: ‘Voilà la dame!’ Before a crowd could gather Ladbroke drove on.

  Followed by the press of the world they stopped at Vienne for luncheon at the Restaurant de la Pyramide. The owner, Madame Point, knew Wallis, and seeing how exhausted she looked took her to her own room. While the crowd of reporters were guzzling the fare pr
ovided in this temple of gastronomy. Mme Point helped Wallis to climb through a lavatory window into an alley where the car was waiting. Those who know Mme Point and her comfortable kindness can well imagine how the tired and harassed Wallis must have welcomed her aid.

  They raced on through sleet and snow, and at 2 a.m. reached Lou Viei. There was nevertheless a crowd waiting outside the gate, but Wallis crouched on the floor and Lord Brownlow threw a rug over her as they dashed into the courtyard. Wallis was safely with her friends.

  The whole of this December journey was mismanaged, particularly so in the way Lord Brownlow dealt with the newspapermen. As a rule they behave fairly if they are treated fairly. Here was perhaps the biggest newspaper story of all time, and nothing was going to stop them one and all trying for a scoop. Wallis, who had nothing to hide, should have spoken to them at Vienne or before, saying that she was going to stay with friends and that was all. If she could not bring herself to see them, Lord Brownlow should have spoken to them on her behalf. There was no point in throwing a rug over her since they knew she was there. No great harm was done, but the journey was unnecessarily exhausting; there was no need for them to behave like fugitives from a chain gang.

  Notes

  6 The Slump by John Stevenson and Chris Cook, 1977.

  7 Sir John Boyd Orr in Food, Health and Income examined the diets of over 1,000 families and found that the lowest income group of 4½ millions had, a diet ‘inadequate in all respects.’ Seebohm Rowntree found that 49% of all working-class children under the age of five suffered from poverty and were ‘living below the minimum.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  King into Duke

  Prince, Prince-Elective on the modern plan,

  Fulfilling such a lot of people’s Wills,

  You take the Chiltern Hundreds while you can;

  A storm is coming on the Chiltern Hills.

  G.K. Chesterton

  MEANWHILE IN ENGLAND everything was speeding towards the inevitable end. The King worked on his wireless speech, but when Mr Baldwin saw a draft of what he proposed to say it was promptly vetoed. ‘Neither Mrs Simpson nor I ever sought to insist that she should be queen. All we desired was that our married happiness should carry with it a proper title and dignity for her, befitting my wife,’ wrote the King. Baldwin considered that this proposition had already been adequately dealt with when the Cabinet and the Dominions unanimously rejected morganatic marriage.

  By now, Mr Baldwin hoped the King would abdicate. He said so once, showing, as the French say, ‘the tip of his ear’: ‘Only time I was frightened, because I thought he might change his mind.’ Mr Baldwin was somebody it was very easy to dislike. As a politician he presided over the beginning of England’s long decline; as a man he was unattractive, with unpleasant habits, always scratching himself, ‘blinking, stuffy, neurotic.’8 But it is unfair to blame him for the Abdication. The plain fact is that nobody could envisage a King married to a lady with two ex-husbands living. However, when he said in the House that the Government was not prepared to introduce legislation to make a morganatic marriage possible, and that the Dominions agreed, Churchill shouted at him: ‘You won’t he satisfied until you’ve broken him, will you?’

  On 7 December Baldwin made a statement to the House of Commons, Churchill intervened and was shouted down. The King’s great friend, Lloyd George, was not in the House, he had gone to the West Indies and could not get back in time to he present. He sent a cable to his son Gwilym and his daughter Megan, both of whom were Members of Parliament:

  Hope you are not going to join the Mrs Grundy harriers who are hunting the King from the Throne. It is for the nation to choose its Queen, but the King cannot be denied the right of humblest citizen to choose his own wife. Had he not decided to marry the lady not a word would have been said by the Scribes and Pharisees. Had King not as prince and sovereign exposed continued neglect by Government of chronic distress, poverty and had housing conditions amongst people in his realm, convinced they would not have shown such alacrity to dethrone him. You may make any use you like of this telegram. Lloyd George.

  Lloyd George was right about the Scribes and Pharisees. Victor Cazalet9 afterwards noted in his diary ‘Stanley Baldwin said he quite appreciated that a King might indulge in a little quiet whoring.’ A.J. Sylvester, Lloyd George’s secretary, wrote: ‘Churchill was howled down when he pleaded for delay before a final decision was reached and the episode did him substantial political damage. However, Lloyd George and Churchill working together for the King would have been a far more formidable proposition, and there were many on Baldwin’s side who were relieved that Lloyd George was out of the way.’ Had he been there, MPs would not have had such an easy task brushing Churchill aside. These two, though they were at odds with the Government, were far and away the greatest personalities in that Parliament. Nothing would have been changed. however, because the King was determined not to countenance a ‘King’s party’ or any action that would divide the nation. He wished to hand over to the Duke of York in such a way that the monarchy as an institution was untouched by his decision to go.

  On Tuesday 8 December the King’s brothers assembled at the Fort for dinner together with Mr Baldwin and Sir Edward Peacock. The King was so exhausted by the tensions and stresses of the last days that Monckton advised him to dine in his room. However, he came down, sat at the head of the table, played the perfect host, and was the only person present, according to Walter Monckton, who was not as white as a sheet, ‘This dinner party was, I think, his tour de force.’ The Duke of York said: ‘Look at him! We simply cannot let him go.’

  Earlier that day, in the villa still besieged by hopeful pressmen, Wallis, helped by Lord Brownlow and Herman Rogers, wrote out a statement. Intensely unhappy and worried, her one idea was to stop the King abdicating. At the same time she must not seem to be deserting him at such a stressful moment. She said: ‘Mrs Simpson throughout the last few weeks has invariably wished to avoid any action or proposal which would hurt or damage His Majesty or the Throne. Today her attitude is unchanged, and she is willing, if such action would solve the problem, to withdraw from a situation that has been rendered both unhappy and untenable.’

  Walter Monckton, the King’s adviser, at No. 10 Downing St in December 1936.

  Lord Brownlow, Katherine Rogers, Wallis and Herman Rogers outside the Villa Lou Viei in Cannes.

  She read it to the King on the telephone. All he said, after a long silence was: ‘Go ahead, if you wish, it won’t make any difference.’ Lord Brownlow gave the statement to the press; Wallis says a terrible weight lifted from her mind.

  Next day the King telephoned to tell her that Mr Goddard the solicitor was on his way to see her. ‘Baldwin is behind it,’ said the King. ‘Don’t be influenced by anything Goddard says.’ Very late that night Inspector Evans brought Lord Brownlow a note signed by four British newspaper correspondents: ‘Mr Goddard, the well-known lawyer who acts for Mrs Simpson, has arrived at Marseilles by special plane. He brought with him Dr Kirkwood, the well-known gynaecologist and his anaesthetist.’ Wallis writes: ‘I was shocked to the core of my being. Gynaecologist? Anaesthetist? Somebody had obviously gone mad.’

  Mr Goddard arrived early on the Wednesday morning, having driven from Marseilles. He found a furious Lord Brownlow, asking angrily for the explanation of his strange conduct. The answer was that Goddard had a weak heart and his doctor had insisted on coming with him on the aeroplane. The ‘anaesthetist’ was simply Mr Goddard’s clerk. His doctor, Kirkwood, was a general practitioner, but he had over the years delivered so many babies that he had acquired quite a reputation in fashionable circles as a gynaecologist on the side. For sheer spite, the way Goddard’s journey was reported and the roles ascribed to his companions would take a lot of beating.

  Having apologized for the absurd story, for which he was not to blame, Mr Goddard proceeded to give the reason for his visit. He asked Mrs Simpson to withdraw her divorce petition. She called in Lord Brownlow, wh
o said: ‘If the King does abdicate his object will be marriage, and for you to scrap your divorce will produce an all-round tragedy.’ Nevertheless Wallis telephoned the Fort and told the King she had arranged with Mr Goddard to withdraw her divorce petition. ‘There was a long silence. Then with emotion David answered that matters had already gone much further than I realized.’ He made George Allen speak to her; the King was in the process of abdicating, she was told. When she repeated this to Mr Goddard he took his departure from the villa and from the history books. His interventions had never been happy, they ended (with the ‘gynaecologist’ and the ‘anaesthetist’) in pure farce; but for Wallis it was far from comic.

  She was in despair, and when Lord Brownlow suggested she should leave Europe she began to make arrangements to board a ship at Genoa; then, having rehearsed what she was going to say, she made one more effort of renunciation, one more ‘dreadful ordeal’ of breaking the news to David’ on the telephone, but this time he cut her short. ‘I can’t seem to make you understand the position. It’s all over. The instrument of Abdication is already prepared. The only conditions on which I can stay here are if I renounce you for all time. And this, of course, I will not do.’ He said he had given the Cabinet the final word. Wallis was crying when the conversation ended. ‘I was conscious only of having failed tragically.’