The Riviera Set

by Mary S. Lovell

  In June Maxine suffered a mild stroke. Her weight – 230 pounds – had begun to take its toll, and a sudden spell of abnormally hot weather was an intolerable strain. Friends and neighbours rushed to l’Horizon to be told by a tearful Fanny that her mistress was barely conscious, but there seemed to be no paralysis. Dr Brès was still with her, but they could wait if they wished to see her later with his permission. Looked after by Maxine’s staff they waited in the shade by the pool: Charlotte Boissevain,¶ to whom Maxine had introduced Dierks to build her a covered swimming pool for her Cannes mansion; Princess Julia Ottoboni; Madame Louise Edvina, the Canadian soprano – all anxiously waiting for news. After a while Elsie Mendl (now almost eighty) arrived, striding onto the terrace dressed in shorts and wearing her trademark conical hat. She lectured them, saying she had been telling Maxine for years that she must ‘diet and exercise, diet and exercise. Like me,’ she said, patting her flat stomach before she launched into her daily exercise routine, which ended with her standing on her head. At this point Charlotte Boissevain began praying fervendy for two things. One, that she could contain her giggles, and two, that Maxine would live so that she could describe to her this bizarre scene.14

  Winston wrote a concerned letter and as soon as she was sufficiently recovered to reply Maxine wrote that she was touched when he had so much else to think about. ‘I am proud that you should worry ... I seem to have come back from an illimitable distance and find the world more beautiful than I remember it,’ she wrote in reply, explaining that she was something of a limp rag at present and had to learn to walk again. Dr Brès got a famous Parisian specialist down to treat her, and with his own daily care he promised Maxine that if she did as she was told there was no reason why she should not be up and about and feeling almost normal by August. That would leave her two months of the best weather to enjoy, and she would still be able to entertain Winston since he had now suggested a visit in August or September. ‘Promise you will come and stay as long as you can,’ she begged him. ‘And Clemmy too if you can persuade her.’15 The Churchills planned to stay with Consuelo at the Château de St Georges Motel during the Parliamentary summer recess of 1939. Winston was to paint and also tour the Maginot Line at the invitation of the French, but he thought it might just be possible to pop down to l’Horizon and see Maxine during this time.

  In early July Dr Brès moved Maxine to the Royal Palace Hotel at Royat, a town in Puy-de-Dôme surrounded by forests, that had been renowned since the Roman occupation for its hot springs providing a natural spa. The cooler, fresher air at over three thousand feet enabled her to sleep well and stopped the palpitations she had been suffering in the heat of the Riviera. She had been thrilled to receive a signed copy of Winston’s latest publication, Step by Step, a book of essays on the present political situation, and she was looking forward to his visit ‘if that fiend Hitler’, as she put it, did not begin any more wars that summer. By now large sections of the public and the newspapers were agitating for Winston to play a larger part in government. ‘Was there ever such a triumph for a public man?’ Maxine wrote from Royat. ‘Press and public alike, hotly demanding the one man who has told them the frightening truth all these years; and now they run to him to try and pull their burning chestnuts out of the fire.’16

  The countdown to war had begun. Winston had told Daisy in a letter that spring that he believed they were approaching a showdown, but that now he felt more confidence and certainty in the country than previously. In March Hitler had marched into Czechoslovakia and Mussolini – wanting his share of the loot, as Winston put it – annexed Albania a few weeks later. Winston looked at all the pieces of the jigsaw and decided that if there was to be a crisis it was likely to be in September.

  Meanwhile, life on the Riviera continued as normal. Soon after Winston’s departure Cannes held its Fête du Mimosa and visitors breathed in the quiet perfumed air, gazed over the tranquil blue sea, sipped wine at beach cafés and strolled along the Croisette on balmy evenings under the necklace of lights stretching off to the Cap d’Antibes. It seemed inconceivable that war was imminent. The hotels had been full over Easter and all along the coast the traditional springtime ‘battles of flowers’ took place, including La Joute Fleuri at Nice. Cannes advertised its first film festival, which would be held in September. At the International Cinematographic Festival the top films would vie for the Grand Prix du Festival, among them Union Pacific, The Wizard of Oz, Goodbye Mr Chips and The Four Feathers# Throughout the summer horse shows, golf matches and firework displays continued to convey confidence and an air of normality; and in anticipation of the forthcoming Film Festival, Hollywood stars began to arrive: Tyrone Power, Gary Cooper and Merle Oberon among them.

  On 22 June the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, who had recently signed a lease on a twenty-bedroom house on Boulevard Suchet, near the Bois de Boulogne, had dined at the German embassy in Paris and were greeted with Nazi salutes. The Duke believed it was possible to negotiate with the Germans, little realising he would be branded a Nazi-supporter by many for the remainder of his life. Two months later the Duke presided with charm over the prestigious charity ball in Cannes, Le Bal des Petits Lits Blancs, where the rich, titled and famous flaunted jewels that normally lived in bank vaults. One of the worst electrical storms ever known on the Riviera occurred during the ball, delaying the spectacular fireworks. It was the final fling of the pre-war Riviera.

  Maxine would certainly have attended some of these events had she been well enough, but she was still convalescing at Royat. During August, while painting with Paul Maze on holiday at the Château de St Georges Motel, Winston looked up and remarked that these would be the last paintings that they would do in peacetime. A fellow guest, annoyed with Winston for speaking in this manner, rounded on him accusing him of being a warmonger, but the news became worse each day and on 22 August Winston flew home early. On the same day Germany and Russia signed a pact of mutual non-aggression. With Germany’s eastern front protected Hitler could turn on Poland without fear of retribution and now, at last, everyone began to realise what this meant. Within a week German troops had invaded Poland, Britain and France declared war and Winston was offered a seat in the Cabinet, though initially ‘without Ministry’. He did not have to wait long, however: a few days later he was offered the Admiralty, a post he had never dared hope would be his again.

  The extensive grounds of Château de la Croë now housed a squad of Senegalese troops, and an anti-aircraft battery to protect the Cap d’Antibes from attack from the sea. All house-guests had departed. On 28 August the Duke, in the mistaken belief that he was still a man with power, cabled Adolf Hitler and King Victor Emmanuel of Italy, urging them to work for the preservation of peace. Hitler replied unequivocally that it was England, not Germany, who was responsible for the situation which now prevailed, and that whatever happened was England’s fault. King Victor Emmanuel answered that he would do what he could to persuade Italy to remain neutral. Even on the day war was declared the Duke refused to believe war would actually happen.** His equerry, Fruity Metcalfe, however, thought otherwise so he drove into Nice and somehow organised an entire compartment to be reserved on the train to Paris for the Duke’s servants, Metcalfe’s own valet, and a secretary; they left on the evening of 2 September. Apart from Metcalfe, the Duchess’s French maid and a few local servants, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor were now totally alone. On the 3rd it was a very hot day and just before noon they decided to swim, but the Duke was called back indoors to take a telephone call from the British Ambassador. When he rejoined Wallis and Fruity he told them that Great Britain had just declared war on Germany. ‘Then there came a splash,’ Wallis wrote. ‘He had dived into the pool.’17

  During the last week of August Noël Coward, who had a new play due to open on 11 September in Manchester, had decided on a dash to the Riviera for one last irresponsible escape to the sun before, as he put it in his diary, ‘the destruction of civilisation’. His two leading ladies were already staying
in Antibes, at the Hôtel du Cap, learning their lines while picking up a tan. Other friends were on yachts along the coast, and although most English visitors were now on their way back home there were still, he decided, ‘countless’ expat friends such as Somerset Maugham, Barry Dierks and Charlotte Boissevain available to lunch, drink, dine and swim with. He looked forward to the well-remembered picnics on the Îles de Lérins†† with hot langouste in butter and garlic, crisp French bread and the local rosé de Provence, day trips by car to Nice, Monte Carlo and St Tropez, and elegant evenings gambling in the casinos. He flew to Cannes and checked into the Carlton Hotel, arriving in time to watch the sunset and see the lights come on along the Croisette. He decided that he could still enjoy all his usual pastimes, but only with the aid of a very fast speedboat hired at a ridiculous price, an extravagance he considered – given the extreme situation – a justifiable expense.18

  On the final evening of his holiday Noël recorded in a memoir how he took his boat over to Golfe-Juan to say goodbye to Maxine. While America remained out of the conflict she was not in any immediate danger, and despite the entreaties of her family in England she declined to leave her beloved villa. He had heard from her friends how unwell she was:

  I landed at her little private jetty below the swimming pool and walked up the twisting path, shaded by oleanders, to the house. There was no house-party because Maxine was very ill, and the terrace and pool, in the past invariably thronged with people, wore an air of sadness ...

  I went upstairs into Maxine’s bedroom. She was in bed, bitterly against her will, and looking more beautiful than I had ever seen her.‡‡ She joked about her illness and said that she was a cat with nine lives, eight of which had been lived to the full; the next attack, she said in her charming deep voice, would be the grand finale. She grumbled a good deal about being forced to stay in bed, and railed against the doctor and Fanny, her beloved maid, for refusing to allow her to get up and walk about and play games and go for drives.

  Noël stayed and gossiped with Maxine for an hour or so and then, seeing that she was very tired, he kissed her and left, making his way to the speedboat which made a loud roar as the engine caught. Maxine evidently heard it, for when he was a little way from the shore he turned and looked back at the villa:

  ... there was Maxine, leaning against one of the supports of her balcony and waving a white handkerchief. Her white hair, her white night-gown, and the handkerchief were tinged with pink from the setting sun. I waved back and the lovely picture became blurred, because I knew, in that moment, that I should never see her again, and my eyes were filled with tears.19

  * Wife of the Financial Secretary to the Treasury.

  † He wrote that since his arrival he had averaged 1500 words a day and had reached a word count of 221,000, which put him sixty-three days ahead of his self-imposed schedule and should give him seven months to revise and polish his manuscript.

  ‡ Her brother Bill shot himself in 1921 because of his debts.

  § Harmsworth was created Baron Rothermere in 1914, and Viscount Rothermere in 1919.

  ¶ Formerly Charlotte Ives, the actress. When her husband, Jan, died she moved to Cap d’Antibes, having agreed to rent the villa of a friend. When she saw another villa she preferred she signed for that instead and was sued for breach of contract. She ended up paying for two villas for a year.

  # This festival never took place, but it was revived after the war.

  ** The Duchess had her cards read by a clairvoyant and as a result was convinced Italy would remain neutral. This may have affected the Duke’s attitude.

  †† Islands off Cannes. One contains the ancient fortress which became famous as a prison of which the Man in the Iron Mask (L’Homme au Masque de Fer) was an inmate. The name was given to a high-status prisoner arrested as Eustache Dauger in 1669 or 1670 and held in a number of jails, including the Bastille, for a period of thirty-four years during the reign of Louis XIV. He died on 19 November 1703, by which time he was known as prisoner Marchioly, but his true identity is unknown. No one ever saw his face, which was hidden by a mask covered in black velvet. The mystery of his identity has been the subject of many books and films. Another famous inmate was King Louis XVI.

  ‡‡ He had known her over twenty years, since the First World War.

  9

  The Lights Go Out Over Europe

  Maxine was still too unwell to go to London for the hastily arranged wedding of Randolph Churchill to Pamela Digby on 4 October 1939.* The bride was the daughter of Lord and Lady Digby, of Minterne House in Dorset, and Randolph had met her only a few weeks earlier. Meanwhile, Maxine’s recovery was slow. She lost over forty pounds in weight and was pleased to have her figure back, she wrote to Winston: ‘I can look forward to the time when we can all gather round the pool again and sit in the sun shine and lick our wounds. [But] I am afraid there will be many blows in store for us before those happy times arrive!’1

  There were no more amusing luncheon parties with smart house-guests from London and the gratin from Paris bringing the latest gossip. Her visitors now were mostly her oldest women friends, some of whom she had known since the horse-and-carriage era of Edward VII with its endless house parties, unlimited servants and discreet cinq et sept’ trysts: Winnie Portarlington, Millicent Sutherland, Kathleen Drogheda – and they, Maxine could see to her dismay, were ageing before her eyes.

  Not all her visitors were women. The Aga Khan called and spent several hours with her. And another old friend, George Cornwallis-West, called at l’Horizon to demonstrate to Maxine that it was possible to make a full recovery from the stroke he had suffered a few months earlier. As a young man he had been known as the most beautiful man in England. ‘I must say he looked wonderfully well,’ Maxine wrote.

  And went gaily off for a round of golf only to be laid low with phlebitis the next day, so he could not have been fit enough to attempt golf so soon ... Millie Sutherland came to see me last week, I am not supposed to see visitors for more than 15 minutes, but she stayed 2½ hours and I cried continuously for three days afterwards. I have known Millie in her radiance and to see her now is too much for me. One sees just a placid old lady ... and with rather a silly smile. Muriel tells me she takes drugs and who can blame her – poor soul – if it makes life easier. God knows she has had more than her share of shock and grief. Geordie† is at Monte Carlo nursing a bad throat and more or less surrounded by his little bits of fluff...

  The Château de l’Horizon was apparently not in any immediate danger of being taken over by the military – Maxine was a prominent American citizen after all, and she was living in only part of the villa and using the rest to help the war effort. Having immediately offered to assist the French army in any way she could, she now had eighteen soldiers billeted with her. ‘They are nice and give no trouble,’ she wrote. Indeed, she adopted them as her own regiment; ‘my chasseurs’, she called these sturdy young men of the Chasseurs Alpins, who were trained to fight in mountainous areas, clad in their blue uniforms and distinctive huge floppy berets. And soon they did indeed become ‘hers’, for they were termed the Poste Château de l’Horizon and she was their happy bienfaitrice.

  Part of the villa was also given over to a workshop, where a team of local women, overseen by Fanny, Maxine’s maid, produced hundreds of children’s garments for the local poor, especially those children of men conscripted into the army in the general mobilisation which threw many poor families onto the breadline. When the women could not obtain any further material to make clothes, Maxine threw open her wardrobe and glamorous gowns and day dresses from Paris fashion houses were pulled from their protective bags to become numerous small pinafores and playsuits.

  In November 1939 the Communist Party was banned in France, and most declared communists were imprisoned as possible subversives, and as there was a strong communist element in Vallauris, the nearest small town to l’Horizon, this meant another group of wives and children left destitute. Maxine hated communism,
but she refused to stand by and watch the innocent starve. She began sending regular amounts of money in cash to the mayor of Vallauris to provide aid for the affected families. Her chauffeur Jules was conscripted and sent into the hills at Saint-Paul-de-Vence where, as winter began and the rains came, he complained to her, they were totally idle and sat about in the cold. Just waiting.

  By November the Duchess of Windsor had joined the Red Cross and was photographed wearing the uniform of an officer, visiting the sick in hospitals and helping to pack boxes of comfort items such as soap, cigarettes, socks and magazines to be distributed to French troops.

  Maxine looked closer to home and at Christmas organised a local children’s party from her bed. In the cinema in Vallauris she had a large Christmas tree erected, and every one of the two hundred children who attended received a wrapped gift. For many of those children the party remained a bright memory throughout their childhood: it would be more than half a decade before they saw another. In the first six months of the war Maxine contributed thousands of dollars to help local people; ‘The reserves of the Château de l’Horizon are often strained,’ she wrote to Winston on 18 February – he was now her most frequent correspondent – ‘but we are happy to help where we can.’2 This was to be her last letter to him.