In June that year, a few days after the coronation of King George V, which Maxine attended, Winston stayed at Hartsbourne for a few days along with his mother, his old love Muriel Wilson, and J.M. Barrie. Clementine had been able to attend the coronation but felt unable to accompany him to Hartsbourne since she was nursing their four-week-old son, Randolph. Winston wrote to tell Clementine how Maxine was being ‘so nice’, and described how she had tamed a bullfinch so that after only twenty-four hours it sat on her shoulder and ate seeds from her mouth. ‘See how much these innocent birds know,’ he wrote.1 Although she enjoyed the tennis, there was something a touch too flamboyant about Hartsbourne for Clementine, and though Winston enjoyed it hugely, she faintly disapproved.
That July Maxine was at Wimbledon for the final of the men’s singles. She was there to support the clear favourite, the fair-haired, blue-eyed Tony Wilding, a handsome open-faced New Zealander who had won both the men’s singles and doubles trophies the previous year, and was now defending his singles title against the Englishman Herbert Roper Barrett.§ Tony had been a guest at Hartsbourne on several occasions and Maxine had sometimes partnered him in matches against Gerald du Maurier and Clementine Churchill on her occasional visits, as well as other equally distinguished guests. Maxine, now forty-two (though she admitted to thirty-seven), was probably already in love with Wilding, but there was a fifteen-year age gap between them. Jennie Churchill had shrugged at this older woman convention when she married George Cornwallis-West who was more than twenty years her junior – indeed, he was just a couple of weeks older than her son Winston – and she paid for it in hurtful comments and ridicule. A music-hall joke of the time was that Jennie had been seen walking in Hyde Park and peering into perambulators. When asked what she was doing she replied that she was looking for her next husband. Jennie wisely laughed this off in public, but it caused her hurt and Maxine knew it. However, Jennie had been the daughter-in-law of a duke, was well established in English society and her social position was unassailable. Maxine felt she was still on probation and could not afford to take any chances with her reputation – her new life was far too important.
Tony Wilding was born and raised in Christchurch, New Zealand, and although he studied law at Cambridge and was a clever man, he was not a scholar per se. His two loves, at which he excelled, were sport and ‘mechanics’. He began playing cricket at school and in his teens had reached county level, but at Cambridge was recognised as a tennis player of quite exceptional brilliance. In 1905 he made his international debut as part of the Australasian Davis Cup team before returning to New Zealand to work in his father’s law practice. In 1906 he took Australian Open singles and doubles titles, and was also called to the Bar in London at the Inner Temple. During the following two years he not only qualified as a barrister at the New Zealand Supreme Court, but helped the Australasian team to victory in the Davis Cup as well as winning his second Australian Open and two doubles titles at Wimbledon.
Although he had taken some doubles titles there, it was in 1910 that he really burst onto the English tennis scene, when he became the singles champion and the golden boy of tennis. But it was his personality and enormous charisma which earned him real and lasting friends among royalty and in English society. An online article would later claim that he combined the looks and charm of Leslie Howard and Cary Grant with the flamboyant daring of Errol Flynn, yet he was totally without any self-importance or side and had the innocent morality of a boy.2 Important men such as King Gustav of Sweden and the former Prime Minister Arthur Balfour were proud to call Tony their friend.
He was happy to spend time with Maxine on the Hartsbourne courts, knocking balls against the wire-netting perimeter fence and demonstrating how she could greatly improve her game by simply changing the way she held her racquet, or twisting her wrist on the backhand. He was always happy to play against beginners and never patronised anyone by allowing them to win, but instead showed them how to improve their game.¶ In those days, when house-guests were expected to contribute to the entertainment, just as Jennie Churchill played the piano, Winston performed his impression of a bear under a shaggy rug or recited a lengthy poem from memory, and Maxine acted out a sketch or did an impression, Tony Wilding earned his invitations to Blenheim, Hartsbourne, Eaton Hall, Kingsclere Castle, Mentmore and Charlton (F.E. Smith’s house) with the fresh and generous spirit of giving of himself. At the same time, he did not suffer fools, whatever their status. Once at Blenheim, when there was an informal tennis tournament among the male guests, he was asked by the Duke to play in an exhibition match against the winner for the visiting King and Queen. Since it was known that on the following day he would be playing in an important tournament he was angry, and critical of the thoughtlessness of his host in expecting him to jeopardise an important game for the amusement of royalty.
Equally, he was kind to a fault and would happily spend an evening missing a good dinner or a party to work into the early hours on the broken-down car of a fellow guest. Everyone who wrote of him portrayed him as one of the most attractive and fine men they had ever met.
When Maxine cheered Tony on at Wimbledon in 1911, she was cheering a good friend, with whom she was also in love. The next few years were the happiest of Maxine’s life: she and Tony were close companions, and became lovers. Tony occupied rooms next to the King’s Room, with access to the private staircase. Hartsbourne became his pied-à-terre in England, and he left clothes there when he was not travelling to tournaments around the world. When he played in European matches, or was in the South of France during the winter months to play in the major tournaments, Maxine was inevitably there too, to cheer him from the front row. On the few occasions when Maxine gave in to persuasion and made an appearance in the theatre in London, if Tony was in the country he would attend every performance. He was immensely proud of her, and this was evident in his letters home to his parents.3 Maxine’s appearances on the stage were never regarded as infra dig by her society friends; on the contrary, hostesses would book two or three rows of seats in the stalls for their dinner guests and the cream of London society, including the Royal Family, flocked to watch her.
Tony was Wimbledon champion again in 1912 and 1913, and in the euphoria of the 1913 victory he and Maxine announced their engagement. No date was set for the wedding, but they were now able to be open about their affection for each other and this full-blown love was for Maxine something entirely new to her. Her marriage to George when she was sixteen had been for what she had then regarded as love. In retrospect, she realised it was a teenage crush on an older man whom she believed could give her a good life until, unfortunately, he turned out to have feet of clay. She always regarded the marriage to Nat as a manage de convenance with no great spark of romance, at least on her part, but they had developed an amicable relationship which had worked reasonably well for many years, and to the advantage of both partners. What she felt for Tony was something very different. She already knew what it was like to be regarded as half of a golden team, but this was a different experience entirely; this time there was no need for pretence at being a loving couple. It was all real.
At last Maxine had everything she ever yearned for: financial stability thanks to J.P. Morgan’s guidance; a beautiful home; a circle of friends whom she admired and enjoyed, and who in turn respected her; and Tony – who made her feel truly alive and fulfilled for the first time in her life. During her young adulthood she had worked hard and missed out on the untroubled enjoyments of her peers, but dancing in Tony’s arms during those rapturous pre-war years she enjoyed the feeling of carefree youth. Newspaper articles gushed about how her lavish parties for distinguished guests were ‘famous. The popular hostess provides her guests with golf, tennis and motoring, and regales them with enthusiastic descriptions of her experiences as an amateur farmer. She maintains a herd of nearly seventy cows.’4
This golden period slid to an end in 1914. The year began well enough, with Tony playing on the circuit in France f
rom January to April. The couple spent several months in Cannes and then went on to Paris, where Tony won the World Hard Court Championships in June. So close were they that several reports appeared in the press that they had secretly married, but the couple denied this.
Although life appeared to be normal, nobody who knew Winston Churchill, then First Lord of the Admiralty, could have remained ignorant of the possibility of a European war. Certainly not those connected with Hartsbourne, where the diplomatic situation in Europe was a major topic of discussion at every weekend gathering that spring. In Cannes Maxine and Tony had heard constantly how the German General Staff were baying for war with France and Russia. During Wimbledon, Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo, which precipitated Austria’s declaration of war against Serbia. Since Tony had already made it clear that if war came he intended to fight for the British Commonwealth, he was now uncertain about whether to make forward travel reservations to compete in the Davis Cup tie which followed in late July. On the advice of Winston and F.E. Smith he went ahead and booked his ticket to New York.
Maxine was in the Family Box for the Wimbledon singles final, alongside Kathleen Drogheda. They hoped to see Tony take the title for the fifth successive year, which was an unheard-of record. But Tony unexpectedly lost his Wimbledon crown to his close friend Norman Brookes, in partnership with whom he had won two Wimbledon doubles titles. On the previous day Tony had partnered the French women’s champion Marguerite Broquedis in the mixed doubles final. Marguerite was having an off-day and Tony had had to do all the work. They lost 4-6, 6-4, 6-2, and the match left Tony exhausted going into the men’s singles final on 4 July.
Maxine sat with tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking with sobs, a hand across her mouth with dismay as Tony dropped points. Norman Brookes, who knew Tony’s game well, could hardly believe what was happening, and he said later that during the last set Tony’s hand was shaking badly. The Times picked this up, to report that ‘his racquet shook like a butterfly net’. Brookes won the last point with a mis-hit when the ball hit the wood of his racquet and jinked over the net. Tony was not the man to begrudge the title to one of his best friends and he openly celebrated with Brookes, placing an arm around him as they walked off court together laughing.
In the first three days of August Germany declared war on Russia and France. On the fourth it was Belgium’s turn, and German troops invaded the neutral country to attack Liège. Britain, committed to help the Belgians, declared war on Germany the same day. With the army in full retreat, the Belgian government abandoned Brussels on 17 August. By then Tony was in the USA and preparing for the Davis Cup final, held on 6-8 August.# The Australasian team took the title convincingly, in no small part due to Tony’s matches – he was described in the press as ‘invincible’ – but his overriding concern was that because transatlantic sailing schedules were already affected by the war he might get stuck in America and not be able to make a contribution himself.
By the time Tony reached Southampton at the end of August the Germans were in control of most of Belgium and were advancing rapidly. Britain was mobilising as fast as it could. Tony had spoken with Winston before he sailed to New York in July, and made clear his wish to ‘get in first’ in the coming war, in some way connected with motorised transport. Winston had long recognised that mechanisation was going to take over from the horse in modern warfare, and he had – in the teeth of opposition by naval chiefs – overseen the formation of the new Naval Brigade, which was equipped with vehicles. Now, at Winston’s suggestion, Tony obtained a temporary commission in the Royal Marines, was gazetted second lieutenant and in early October left for France to find that the Naval Brigade had been moved to Antwerp. Within a few days, however, he was seconded to the Intelligence Corps and work that suited his skills admirably. He was a driver and a superb mechanic who, because of his frequent travels to France, knew the country well and spoke fluent colloquials French. Tony wrote to his family and to Maxine describing how he would motor in his Alda car as close to the enemy lines as possible, obtain as much information as he could collect, and report back to his chiefs. He enjoyed the work, and as he did not spare himself was immensely popular. Those early cars were very unpredictable and needed someone like Tony looking after them since a breakdown close to the front meant almost inevitable capture. ‘This is a motor war,’ he wrote home. ‘Horses are more or less useless. Shrapnel fire is bad; it whistles and shrieks ... a bad business, war ... It is gradually getting cold. Too awful to think of the poor devils in trenches while we have a roof over our heads and some degree of comfort.’5
At the end of October Tony transferred to the RN Armoured Division, which often took him to the Front. Unlike many pundits he saw at once that they were in for a long war and that there was no possibility of it being over by Christmas. In February 1915 he was given some leave, which he spent with Maxine, returning to duty on 16 March to learn he had been promoted to lieutenant and posted to a new squadron of armoured Rolls-Royce cars which was commanded by his friend the Duke of Westminster. He shared the naval flying officers’ mess and was given command of thirty men, a junior officer, three guns and a number of armoured cars that covered the area between La Bassée and Dunkirk. Before long they were moved up to the Western Front and on 2 May, based on several glowing commendations, Tony Wilding was gazetted captain.
On 8 May Tony wrote to a friend that, for the first time, he had been given a job which he thought was likely to end in him and his unit being ‘blown to hell. However, if we succeed we will help our infantry no end.’6 His mission was to destroy the enemy guns at Port Arthur and already he had considerable success with fast in-and-out attacks on enemy sites. On the following day, covered in mud and exhausted after a twelve-hour attack on the enemy at Aubers Ridge, he was resting in a dug-out next to a gun placement on the front line. With him were a lieutenant and two private soldiers. Men in a nearby trench reported hearing a great gust of laughter from the dug-out, quenched suddenly by a direct hit by a shell which exploded on impact. The two privates, and Tony, were killed instantly; the lieutenant was badly injured but survived.
Tony was buried the following day in a nearby orchard.**
* This would end only with the diplomatic crisis of July 1914, following the assassination in Sarajevo of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.
† Lady Diana Manners was not actually the Duke’s daughter. Her father was the writer Henry Cust, but the Duke accepted her as his own child because ‘it would be bad-manners not to do so’.
‡ A niece wondered whether Lord Curzon’s forenames had put Maxine off him: George and Nathaniel were the names of her two former husbands.
§ After a hard-fought game, with the score 6-4, 4-6, 2-6, 6-2, Barrett retired, conceding the match to Wilding. Wilding could not, however, repeat his success of 1910as he and his English partner Josiah Ritchie lost the doubles final.
¶ One tennis umpire who later on in their relationship saw Tony and Maxine play in a doubles tournament thought they were probably good enough to compete at county standard and wrote that he always regretted that the pair had not ‘had a go at the mixed handicap championship at Surbiton in 1914’, which he felt they could have won.
# This would be his last tournament.
** Captain Anthony Wilding was later re-interred at the Rue-des-Berceaux Military Cemetery in Richebourg-l’Avoué, Pas de Calais. Maxine paid for the headstone.
4
Maxine’s War
Maxine was not the sort of woman to sit at home and knit scarves while the men went off to fight. Despite her affection for Winston she disagreed violently with him about women’s suffrage,* and had she been able to join the fight conventionally she probably would have done so. Instead, as men began to leave for France she quietly did some research, looking for a way in which she could help, without getting in anyone’s way.
Initially she got together with one of her closest friends – Millicent, the Duchess of Sutherland – and togeth
er they provided a large motorised van, fitted out as an ambulance and staffed with a nurse, which could transport four wounded men to a field hospital. Maxine was keen to drive or accompany a driver in this vehicle and she soon found there was nothing to stop her. Other women were running similar projects, allowed to choose their own field of operations and operating under licence by the Red Cross. Maxine arrived in France in October 1914, in the same week as Tony, bringing her De Dion-Bouton car and her chauffeur. It was just after Antwerp had been abandoned and the Allied forces withdrawn to West Flanders. Maxine chose to base herself in Boulogne-sur-Mer, an hour’s drive from the fighting, from where she could easily provide some help where it was most needed, and see Tony on a regular basis.
There was plenty of scope for relief ambulance drivers and, recognising that need, Maxine would eventually provide twelve ambulances, but within weeks she hit on an alternative way of providing assistance. German fear of Belgian resistance after the invasion caused them to implement a policy of Schrecklichkeit (‘terror’) against civilians. This included massacres, executions, hostage-taking and the burning of villages, which became known as the Rape of Belgium. Tens of thousands of Belgians fled their homes for the countryside, to take what shelter they could find in barns, chicken houses and ruined buildings, and during that intensely cold first winter of the war they had little shelter, little or no means of heating, and hardly any food. Effectively caught between the two fighting armies, these refugees died in vast numbers of preventable causes: hunger, illness, childbirth, childhood illnesses, small injuries which turned septic, cold and general neglect. The chiefs of the armies had their own men to worry about; no one seemed to care about the Belgian civilians. Except Maxine.
The Riviera Set Page 5
