20
Flight to France
W
ALLIS AND AUNT BESSIE
arrived at Fort Belvedere just after seven that Friday evening. David arrived soon after. “The instant I entered the Fort,” Wallis recalled, “I sensed the vast change that had come over its atmosphere in the short space of a week. The faces of the servants were drawn. No sooner had we entered the house than David was called to the telephone. There came to me the realization that this was no longer the enchanted Fort; it was the Fort beleaguered.”
1
Events that weekend bore out her worst fears. There was a constant stream of advisers calling from London to consult the King; the telephones rang ceaselessly; and David seemed to become even more withdrawn.
2
On Sunday he spent several hours discussing the situation privately with George Allen, his personal solicitor, and with Walter Monckton. At the end, David called Wallis into the library and delivered the bad news: Both Sir Samuel Hoare and Duff Cooper had advised that no option remained open to him where Wallis was concerned. He must, they declared, either give up the idea of marrying her or abdicate the throne. Both Hoare and Cooper advised that the King withdraw the idea of any potential marriage—whether morganatic or not—from the cabinet’s consideration; proceed with his coronation in May 1937; and then, at some later date, after the crisis had passed, he might consider the idea of marrying Wallis.
3
But the King declared that going “through the Coronation ceremony while harbouring in my heart a secret intention to marry contrary to the Church’s tenets would have meant being crowned with a lie on my lips.”
4
Although David assured Wallis that he was doing all he could and that he himself had not yet given up hope, she now understood the reality of the situation. He suggested that the people of the empire and dominions, if they understood the situation, might support him, and Wallis added that it might help if he made a speech to all concerned; David agreed, but explained that he would have to obtain the permission of the government in order to make such a broadcast.
5
She was aware of how Roosevelt had managed to captivate the American public with his broadcasts and was sure that the King could do likewise. David saw it as a perfect solution, for he believed the people, his people, would support him and his quest for happiness.
Over the next few days, David met with Monckton, Allen, and Maj. Ulick Alexander, the keeper of the privy purse. All suggested that if he remained determined to wed Wallis, he would be best served by temporarily handing over the royal power to a Council of State under the Privy Council, conduct whatever negotiations he needed in respect to his marriage, and then make his broadcast.
6
David had already begun to work on his speech. Eventually, however, he decided not to ask Baldwin’s permission to broadcast until the prime minister had finally and formally received word from the heads of the dominion and Empire countries on the morganatic marriage proposal.
By the end of the weekend, it was all too much for Wallis, and she once again decided it would be best for everyone involved if she were simply to leave the country. She wrote to Sibyl Colefax: “I am planning quite by myself to go away for a while. I think everyone here would like that—except one person perhaps—but I am planning a clever means of escape. After a while my name will be forgotten by the people and only two people will suffer instead of a mass of people who aren’t interested anyway in individual feelings but only the workings of a system.”
7
The following day, the Bishop of Bradford, the Right Reverend A. W. Blunt, made a speech at the annual diocesan conference that was to bring the crisis to a head. He had been in London and met the Archbishop of Canterbury as well as Baldwin, both of whom had expressed concern over the King’s relationship with Mrs. Simpson. In his speech, he asked that God inspire the King to do what was necessary to fulfill his duty to the Crown and added that he hoped the monarch realized that he was in need of God’s grace to do this. “Some of us,” he added, “wish he gave more positive signs of such awareness.” The Bishop of Birmingham had suggested that a wide range of clerics attend the coronation in the following year, and Blunt criticized this, saying that given the present circumstances, it scarcely mattered and that the religious aspects of the coronation service would be rendered nonexistent when it occurred. He would later explain that he had only meant to refer to the King’s religious habits and not specifically to the King’s relationship with Wallis. No one realized this, however, and the British press, assuming that the veil of silence about the King’s relationship had now been broken, prepared to break the story of his romance with the twice-divorced American commoner.
8
The Archbishop of Canterbury, although he later denied he had a hand in the speech, was presumably the driving force. He had recently met with Blunt and expressed grave concerns over the state of affairs. Just before Blunt’s speech, he had breakfast at Lambeth Palace, residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, with Anne and Christopher Freemantle. An American paper on the side table bore the headline “Will David Wed Wally?” When he noticed the Freemantles looking at the paper, the Archbishop assured them that the marriage would be stopped. “It would be the end of the monarchy in England,” he declared. He further told them that the following day the press silence would be broken.
9
On Wednesday, December 2, David met with Baldwin at Buckingham Palace. Baldwin told him that although not all of the dominion reports had been received, those that had been were against the morganatic marriage. The King was thus left with the alternative of Wallis or abdication.
10
Baldwin begged and pleaded with him to change his mind, but David refused to listen. “I appealed to one thing after another. Nothing made the least impression. It was almost uncanny.... He seemed bewitched. . . .”
11
That evening, David returned to the Fort for dinner. “One look at his face told me that the worst had happened,” Wallis later recalled.
12
He did not speak, and along with Wallis’s cousin Newbold Noyes and her aunt Bessie, they sat down to dinner as if nothing had happened. The menu consisted of clear turtle soup; a lobster mousse; roast pheasant with soufflé potatoes and a mixed green salad; frozen fresh pineapple and a toasted cheese savory. Footmen in scarlet coats handed around a light Bordeaux wine with dinner and a liqueur with coffee. During the dinner, Noyes noted, when the King and Wallis wished to speak only to each other, they did so in whispered German.
13
After dinner, the conversation turned to marriage. Noyes asked: “If you marry, Sir, the woman you so honor will be one of three things. Correct me if I am wrong.”
David asked him to name the three things.
“Your morganatic wife, the Queen of England, or shall we say, Mrs. Windsor, wife of the abdicated King of England.”
“Nearly sixty-seven percent correct, but no more,” David answered. “There is no such possibility as morganatic marriage for an English king.”
This was startling news to Wallis, who had believed in, and hoped for, a morganatic solution until this moment.
“It would seem apparent then, Sir,” Noyes continued, “that there are but three possible outcomes to this situation. Wallis becomes Queen. She becomes Mrs. Windsor, subsequent to your abdication. Or you renounce any intention of marrying her.”
“Again, only sixty-seven percent correct, Mr. Noyes,” he replied. “You should confine your possibilities to the first two—the only two that exist.”
14
Once they had finished. David led Wallis outside. As they strolled round the fog-wrapped garden, he finally told Wallis that it seemed as though there was no hope for the morganatic marriage proposal. He further declared that Baldwin, as prime minister, would not introduce the necessary legislation into Parliament required to pass a bill allowing a morganatic marriage. There was nothing further the King could do. “So it now comes to this,” he declared. “Either I must give you up or abdicate. And I don’t intend to give you up.”
15
Wallis now had news of her own for David. Earlier that day, Perry Brownlow had spoken with her, urging that she leave the country at once. She now told the King of her decision to leave. “David, I’m going to leave,” she declared. “I’ve already stayed too long. I should have gone when you showed me Hardinge’s letter. But now nothing you can say will hold me here any longer.”
16
David, for once, did not argue. Instead, he told her that on the following day the British press would break their silence and begin to print details of their relationship. There was nothing to be done, and David again declared that he must deal with the crisis on his own, in his own way.
17
“I was braced for a blow,” Wallis recalled; “but nothing had equipped me to deal with what faced me on my breakfast tray in the morning. There in big black type in paper after paper were the words ‘Grave Constitutional Issue,’ ‘Grave Crisis,’ and ‘Constitutional Crisis.’ The dam was broken.”
18
She blamed herself for having allowed the situation to develop into a crisis and for not having left England earlier.
When she entered the drawing room that morning, David, who was standing over a table on which were arranged the morning papers, quickly tried to push them from her view. “Don’t bother, David, I’ve seen them,” she said sadly. In tears, she apologized for having put him into this terrible position.
19
That day, the Earl of Crawford wrote:
Thursday. Sudden outbreak in the press—in the press united. After months, one might almost say years, the torrent is overwhelming—a cascade of articles, pictures, headlines, one would think that the relations of the King and Mrs. Simpson must exclude all other topics. Lots of portraits of the lady: posters about her, one says she is ill, another suggests that she has bolted. I went to Lancashire and kept picking up later editions of the evening papers and all alike break loose after the long period of self-suppression. The temptation to magnify the affair is irresistible—to propagate every possible rumour however absurd. In London I heard that the police are anxious as they think it possible some indignant person might fire a revolver at her, still more that the burglar confraternity might have a shot at her jewels.
20
And Chips Channon sadly noted: “The Country and the Empire now know that their Monarch, their young King-Emperor, their adored Apollo, is in love with an American twice-divorced, whom they believe to be an adventuress.”
21
“For weeks,” wrote Robert Bruce Lockhart, “MPs have been saying that [the] whole country is seething about [the] King’s conduct and Mrs. Simpson and that they [the members] were being deluged with letters from their constituents. Probably true; but letters came from Mrs. Rector and Mr. Town Councillor. It is now quite clear that ninety percent of this country had never heard of Mrs. Simpson . . . . Gather that Whitehall wants King to abdicate in any case—altogether too irresponsible.”
22
The London papers quickly made their positions clear. Geoffrey Dawson, not surprisingly, was highly critical of the King in his editorial in the
Times
: “There are many daughters of America whom the King might have married with the approval and rejoicing of his people. It would have been an innovation, but by no means an unwelcome innovation in the history of the Royal House . . . . The one objection, and it is an overwhelming objection, is that the lady in question has already two former husbands living from whom in succession she has obtained divorce.”
23
The
Daily Telegraph
took much the same line: “Queen Mary, Queen Alexandra, Queen Victoria—these have been the Queens of England whom this country and Empire have known for a full century and they will not tolerate any other or different standard of Queenship.”
24
The Beaverbrook and Rothermere papers, however, took a different line. The
Daily Express
wrote: “Let the King speak . . . . Let the King give his decision to the people . . . . Are we to lose the King or are we to keep him? He knows the answer the people want to hear. But it must not be goodbye, for the citizens of these shores would hear him say it with their hearts loaded with grief and their heads bowed with sorrow.”
25
And the
Daily Mail
editorialized: “Abdication is out of the question because its possibilities of mischief are endless. The effect upon the Empire would be calamitous. It must never happen. The King and his Ministers must find a way out. . . . The people want their King.”
26
At the Fort that day, Wallis prepared for her departure. Immediately, she thought of her friends Herman and Katherine Rogers, who had settled in Cannes, and their Villa Lou Viei. Wallis considered that it would provide a safe haven and telephoned to ask the Rogerses if she might temporarily stay with them. Herman agreed at once, understanding her dilemma.
27