by Anne Edwards
But because of the Coronation and the newness of the Queen’s reign, a Royal scandal coming now could affect the Conservatives’ chances at the next elections. So when Lascelles put the final case to the Prime Minister, Churchill agreed with him, if not for the same reasons.
Churchill was to become perhaps the Queen’s greatest admirer, but at the outset of her reign he confided to Jock Colville, who was now his Private Secretary, “I don’t know her. She’s a mere child. I knew the King so well.” Colville, having been her Private Secretary from 1947 to 1949, reassured the Prime Minister that the young Queen was “the reverse of being a child.” At the time Colville’s words were only small comfort to Churchill, who was in ill health and feared his powers were failing.
The Prime Minister had suffered two strokes, one in 1948 while in the South of France, the other in 1952, when his speech had been affected for a few months. Colville noted that he was slower in his grasp of situations, that his memory was losing its sharpness. Churchill, in fact, admitted to his doctor that he was “not so good mentally as I used to be.” To add to this, his hearing was impaired, causing him added stress.
Churchill’s failing health was ironic in view of the strides forward that had been made by his party. The recent months had seen a marked improvement in Britain’s economy. Since February 1953, tea, chocolate and sugar were no longer rationed. The Conservatives had done well in by-elections, and the month before the Coronation they had won a marginal seat (Sunderland South) from the Opposition. This victory indicated that the British electorate was moving toward stronger support of the Conservative Party. And here was Churchill at the head, physically slipping; and as an added blow, his Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden, the only man in the party seen as a viable successor to Churchill, was seriously ill. After two operations on the bile duct he was now in the Mayo Clinic in the United States, set to undergo a third operation.
The court repaired to Windsor Castle on June 13 for Royal Ascot, which would open three days later. The following morning the daily tabloid People published a front-page story revealing, for the first time in Britain, all the speculations that had been made about Margaret and Townsend in the foreign press, adding with an air of righteousness: “This story is of course, utterly untrue [that Townsend and Margaret were seeking permission from the Queen to marry]. It is quite unthinkable that a royal princess, third in line of succession to the throne, should even contemplate a marriage with a man who has been through the divorce courts.”
On Monday, June 15, the Queen was informed by Lascelles and Jock Colville’s cousin, Commander Richard Colville, who was the Palace Press Secretary, of the imminent approach of a scandal regarding her sister and Townsend. The Queen replied that she was still reluctant to send Townsend out of the country. That same afternoon, the two determined men met with the Prime Minister and convinced him that he must speak with the Queen. Churchill had an audience with her the following day, the crux of which was to convey to her his impression that an impending scandal was upon them at that very moment. For the country’s well-being, Group Captain Townsend should be posted abroad for two years and without delay, and he and her sister should not be permitted to see one another for a period of one year at the minimum.
Her heart heavy, the Queen agreed, although she believed she was softening the sentence by postponing the separation until after July 17 when Margaret and the Queen Mother were to return from an eighteen-day tour of Rhodesia which Townsend was originally to have made with them. Members of her staff noted on this day that the Queen’s usual good spirits were sorely strained.
Lascelles returned directly to Buckingham Palace and summoned Townsend to his office and delivered the crushing blow: he was to be sent abroad for two years with little delay. The Air Minister, Lord De L’Isle, he added unctuously, was being considerate enough to give him the choice of three air attaché posts: Brussels, Johannesburg or Singapore.
Townsend was stunned. He was being literally exiled from his country, which he had served loyally his entire life, because he and Princess Margaret had fallen in love. The concept was medieval. And not only was he being exiled, he was “being despatched willy-nilly, to a virtually sinecure post in a foreign capital,” a sharp demotion from the positions he had held for nine years in the Royal Household and for all the war years he had served in the RAF. He sat across from Lascelles, searching that angular aristocratic face for some sign that might indicate this was a ploy to force Townsend’s hand. So suddenly had the news come that he was unable right away to grasp the full impact of this order.
One major consideration was the fact that he had custody of his two little boys (eight and ten), who were now first-time boarders at a preparatory school in Kent, far from their mother and soon to be separated from close contact with their father. Lascelles sat stiffly waiting for a reply. If Townsend did not choose a post, he could well be sent to the farthest point—Singapore; and so he said, “Brussels,” which would place him at a reachable distance from his children if an emergency should arise.
The lovers said their farewell in the sitting room at Clarence House the night before Margaret was to depart for Rhodesia. Townsend had been officially assured by the Air Ministry that he would not be due to leave for Brussels until after her return on July 17. Both thought this meeting was “so long for three weeks” and not “good-bye.” They discussed their situation at a minimum but reaffirmed their love for each other and their avowed determination to spend their lives together. Of this meeting, Townsend says, “Her mother—I blessed her for her exquisite tact—left us alone.”
The portents had not seemed all bad, for the Queen had asked Townsend to accompany her as Equerry-in-Waiting for a three-day Coronation tour to Belfast, Northern Ireland, departing the next day, June 30, which was also the date of Margaret’s and the Queen Mother’s departure. Townsend interpreted this as a sign that the Queen was still on their side. But with hindsight it appears that the Queen’s “most gracious and touching gesture” was a successful ploy to remove Townsend from London on that day and so avoid any possible incidents with the press.
In Belfast, Commander Colville’s Press Office announced Townsend’s new appointment as Air Attaché to the British Embassy in Brussels. Townsend could not have been more surprised or concerned. His plans were to see his sons and explain to them that he was being transferred. Now, they stood the chance of hearing about their father’s new post either rudely from another child or as they watched the news on television. He flew back on the Queen’s flight with the Royal Party the following day. “There on the tarmac, for all to see, the Queen, smiling and charming as always, chatted with me for a few moments,” Townsend recalled. Then she and Philip shook Townsend’s hand and wished him good luck as he bowed and took his final leave.
He had been moved from Clarence House to Buckingham Palace (Adelaide Cottage no longer his to occupy), and upon his return from Belfast he was informed that his departure for Brussels had been set forward. He was to depart before Princess Margaret’s return. In Umtali, Rhodesia, where she learned the news, Margaret broke down and sobbed. Her mother rushed to comfort her; and Townsend, by telephone, tried to reassure her. She pulled herself together and did not miss one engagement, but photographs of the end of her tour show a sad-eyed Princess, the joie de vivre sorely missing from her expression. She was being torn from the man she loved and in an unusually harsh and underhanded manner.
Townsend hurried to Kent to see his sons and the parting was “particularly harrowing.... Hugo (King George VI’s godson), then only eight, cried a lot. He had seen a newspaper headline saying that I, his father, was ‘to be banished,’ and he took that in its literal ... sense. I hugged him and promised to come back. But Hugo, I believe, has never quite recovered from that brutal separation.”
And so the next day Townsend left for Brussels, he and Margaret believing that they would be separated for one year and that after August 21, 1955, two years hence, when she celebrated her twenty-fifth birthday,
they could plan to marry. Both were convinced, as perhaps most lovers are, that their bond was strong enough to endure the separation. They were never told that even then the prospects would be bleak and that Churchill, Lascelles and Commander Colville already had a long memorandum prepared that negated their chance of ever achieving a life together.
At the age of twenty-five Margaret, indeed, would be free from the Queen’s control, but she would still require Parliament’s approval to marry Townsend, which was unlikely unless she renounced her title and all rights to the succession for herself and her heirs and gave up her income under the Civil List. Should she agree to these demands, she and Townsend would then be denied residence in England for at least three years, on the basis that their presence could prove harmful to the Monarchy.
Hélène Foufounis had returned in 1951 to live in London with her mother and children. She was still married but long separated from Boisot, who remained in France. She soon changed her name to Hélène Cordêt and became a well-known nightclub and television performer, appearing on the successful variety show Café Continental, singing French songs in a husky voice. She maintained her close friendship with Philip and he obviously encouraged it.
“Philip invited me and the children to go and watch polo whenever we wanted to,” she wrote in her autobiography. “I thought this was a very good way to get the fresh air I needed so much. But after one Sunday I never dared go back. I hadn’t thought of the interest my visit would arouse, and I am sure Philip hadn’t thought of it either ... he chatted with us between chukkas. I suddenly noticed cameras focused on our group and we were followed around by journalists.” She adds that the press kept calling her flat all evening but that she had luckily not returned until rather late, having decided to stop and see a film on her way home.
The press apparently thought they might be onto a story that would link Philip and Hélène in a compromising situation. “For some time now I had been a bit embarrassed at the way the newspapers always said ‘Prince Philip is godfather to her children,’ when they wrote about me. This was quite reasonable, of course, but I never wanted to cause any embarrassment to the royal family.” Why then discuss the incident in her book? And why should she feel flustered rather than honored that Prince Philip was her children’s godfather? Her statement implies that the connection between herself and Philip and the use of the word godfather could be misconstrued in some way.
Whatever Philip’s feelings were for Hélène, she on her part had always had a great warmth and attraction toward him and never avoided an opportunity to be in his company or to consult him on some matter or other. Hélène’s rather coy and giddy attitude toward Philip seems, at the very least, foolish and indiscreet. But Philip’s encouragement appears equally foolish and indiscreet. After all, he was the husband of the Queen; and he had made very clear his opinions about protecting the Crown at all costs, Margaret’s happiness included.
Hélène had watched the procession for King George VI’s funeral from Clarence House (then occupied by Philip and the Queen), “where some close friends and members of the royal family [Philip’s sisters and their children] were gathered.” And she, her mother and the children were invited by Philip to see the Coronation procession from the Balcony Room at Buckingham Palace. She claimed that since she had worked in cabaret the previous night until 5:00 A.M., she remained at home and sent her mother and the two children, Louise and Max.
“Mother and the children stayed at the Palace until seven P.M. [she wrote]. They had a marvellous day there. They saw the start and the finish of the Procession, and they watched the Abbey ceremony on t.v. and from what I heard they never stopped eating. Princess Sophie [Philip’s sister, who did not attend the Coronation ceremony] was there with other members of her family and they all had a wonderful time. The end of that memorable day came for them when the Queen walked down the corridor, dressed in her robes and crown, to greet everyone....
“My daughter, Louise [eight at the time], was a great hit with millions of television viewers and the crowd in front of the Palace. At one moment standing at the window, she was mistaken for Princess Anne and the crowds down below cheered her loudly.”
In another chapter, she writes, “Once [circa 1954] when Philip was so thin and tired that Mother and I remarked about it, a pile of scientific books was delivered to his study [while they were there]. He told us he had two weeks to learn their contents because he had to know what he was going to talk about at a large scientific dinner. I glanced through one of them and still wonder how he did it.”
And at another point she says, “Having my mother with me looking after the children [circa 1953–1954] was a great blessing, but I did have trouble with her.... She often used to cry when I went off to a cabaret date.... Knowing how fond she was of Philip, I asked him to talk to her. He did, and he put her mind more or less at ease when he told her that it was all to my credit that I should have got where I was now.” A short while later she adds: “As I wanted to send my son Max to boarding school, [Philip] gave me information about English public schools, and as he seemed to think his own school, Gordonstoun, would be good for a boy who had spent his early boyhood at home and among women, I sent him there.”
The familiarity between Hélène and Philip is obvious in these passages, but it does not corroborate the speculations of the journalists who had attended that polo match. Two theories about their close continuing friendship can be considered—and he was often to see her privately when she opened her own club in the late fifties—(1) Hélène and her mother had, indeed, been old friends and had helped Philip as a child; therefore, his continuing friendship seems an honorable characteristic, a loyalty to be admired, and (2) his refusal to walk away from Hélène and her family even in the face of rumors and speculation is a colorful example of Philip’s strong personality.
The Queen displayed a cool politeness to Hélène. They had never been friends and never became friendly. The only time she was to see Hélène was in a large group of people. At best, the Queen appeared to tolerate Philip’s friendship with the Foufounis family, who were Philip’s guests at Buckingham Palace but, it seems, never hers, and never were they guests at a Royal ceremony. Not many wives would have approved their husband’s close affiliations with a very sexy, beautiful cabaret and television performer, once divorced (as the guilty party) and now living separately from her husband.
The speculative gossip about Philip and Hélène might have been damaging but it was contained within the Court and private social circles. Nonetheless, Elizabeth deeply loved and trusted her husband—and she also had many other pressing problems.
Not only was her Minister of Foreign Affairs still ill and her sister miserable, on June 23, in the midst of the Townsend-Margaret crisis, Sir Winston Churchill had suffered another stroke. His gait was affected and his speech slurred. The Prime Minister rested as much as he could during the month of July and, on August 1, went to Royal Lodge, Windsor, for an audience with the Queen. This appears to have been a turning point in their relationship. The old statesman now saw in Elizabeth the same strength and intelligence that had made the late King so attached to his daughter. “Some close to him even wondered whether he was not a little in love with the new Queen,” Robert Lacey wrote. Indeed, Churchill did have the famous photograph of Elizabeth “in low tiara, smiling out of a carriage window with something fluffy round her shoulders and her left arm raised to wave” blown up into poster size, framed and hung over his bed.
Footnote
* See Appendices
19
History was to cast Sir Alan Lascelles as the man who conspired to end the affair between Princess Margaret and Peter Townsend. If this was the case, he acted out of what he considered to be his duty to both Queen and country. As testament to the moral constancy of the man, never did his position waver despite its unpopularity with the public—large sections of which found it unjust to deny Margaret the right to marry a divorced man, “when every other of the Queen’s
subjects was allowed by the law of the land to do so,” and who deemed it pure hypocrisy for Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden to so self-righteously uphold the law of the State Church in public when, in his private life, he was a divorced man who had remarried. Eden’s motives seem far more suspect than those of the Queen’s Private Secretary.
Lascelles’s personal enmity toward Townsend was based on only one issue. From the very beginning of his knowledge of the affair he had found it insupportable that a man of Townsend’s position, maturity and experience had allowed Princess Margaret’s interest to grow into anything stronger than the friendship that might naturally exist between members of the Royal Family and their Households, considering how closely they lived and how often they were bound to be together.
In Lascelles’s view, the moment Townsend had realized that Princess Margaret’s regard for him was more than friendship, his duty was to discourage her and, if this had not succeeded, to have resigned. But, at least in any existing correspondence between Lascelles and either Sir Winston Churchill, John Colville (Churchill’s private secretary) or Anthony Eden, there is no evidence that the order to send Townsend abroad was in any way the result of a personal vendetta on anyone’s part.
Nonetheless, Lascelles remained adamant in his position and harsh in his judgment. So much so, in fact, that Colville wrote and asked him to amend his views, stated in a letter to Churchill, in order to avoid the impression that the Queen or Sir Winston had forced Townsend into exile. The “Townsend affair” was the last battle Lascelles would fight in Royal service. He retired at the end of October 1953 and was replaced as the Queen’s Private Secretary by Sir Michael Adeane. But Lascelles’s directives were to be carried out and his part in the situation was always considered to be major.
