The Duchess Of Windsor (37 page)

BOOK: The Duchess Of Windsor
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For all the criticism of the abdication, it must be admitted that given the circumstances, the King undoubtedly made the best choice. He loved Wallis too much to give her up; at the same time, he cared greatly about the empire he had inherited from his father and wished to maintain it. It would have been easy for him to force Wallis on the public; in doing so, however, he might have fractured the empire.
David later wrote:
Even though I might have been able to recruit a commanding majority, I could not have persuaded the entire nation and all the Dominions.... By making a stand for myself, I should have left the scars of a civil war.... True, I should still be King. But I would no longer be King by the free and common consent of all.... The cherished conception of a Monarchy above politics would have been shattered.... I felt I had come to the limit of a man’s power to shape events and fend off catastrophe. Were I to wait longer I might indeed reap the whirlwind. And so, in faith and calmness, not unmixed with sorrow, I resolved to end the constitutional crisis forthwith. I would close my reign with dignity, clear the succession for my brother with the least possible embarrassment and avoid all appearance of faction.... I reject the notion . . . that, faced with a choice between love and duty, I chose love. I certainly married because I chose the path of love. But I abdicated because I chose the path of duty. I did not value the Crown so lightly that I gave it away I valued it so deeply that I surrendered it, rather than risk any impairment of its prestige.”
19
 
Having reached his decision, David was resolute; over the next few days, as he gradually told first one confidant, then another, that he would leave, he met arguments and objections with a stubborn silence. For the time being, he kept his decision to himself. That weekend, he continued to meet with his advisers, but he was more concerned now with details regarding a future off the throne with Wallis than with fighting against Baldwin.
On Sunday, December 6, the Earl of Crawford recorded: “In the press this morning there is a distinct tendency to scold the Church for butting into an affair which does not concern them.... They announce that Cantuar [the Archbishop of Canterbury] was mobbed and that ministers were hooted in Downing St.—merely the ebullitions of a score or two of rowdies; but it is evident that the gutter press has been enlisted to support the King in all he does and wishes to do with the object of overthrowing Baldwin.”
20
That same day, Churchill issued a strong statement that duly appeared in the papers:
I plead for time and patience. The nation must realize the character of the constitutional issue. There is no question of any conflict between the King and Parliament. Parliament has not been consulted in any way or allowed to express any opinion. The question is whether the King is to abdicate upon the advice of the Ministry of the Day. No such advice has ever before been tendered to a Sovereign in Parliamentary times. This is not a case where differences have arisen between the Sovereign and his Ministers on any particular measure. These could certainly be resolved by normal processes of Parliament or dissolution. In this case we are in the presence of a wish expressed by the Sovereign to perform an act which in no circumstances can be accomplished for nearly five months, and may conceivably, for various reasons, never be accomplished at all. That, on such a hypothetical and supposititious basis the supreme sacrifice of abdication and potential exile of the Sovereign should be demanded, finds no support whatever in the British Constitution. No Ministry has the authority to advise the abdication of the Sovereign. Only the most serious Parliamentary processes could even raise the issue in a decisive form. The Cabinet has no right to prejudge such a question without having previously ascertained at the very least the will of Parliament. This could, perhaps, be obtained by messages from the Sovereign to Parliament, and by addresses of both Houses after due consideration of these messages. For the Sovereign to abdicate incontinently in the present circumstances would inflict an injury upon the constitutional position of the monarchy which is measureless and cannot fail to be grievous to the institution itself, irrespective of the existing occupant of the Throne. Parliament would also fail entirely in its duty if it allowed such an event to occur as the signing of an abdication in response to the advice of Ministers without taking all precautions to make sure that these same processes may not be repeated with equal uncanny facility at no distant date in unforeseen circumstances. Clearly time is needed for searching constitutional debate. The next question is—What has the King done? If it be true, as is alleged, that the King has proposed to his Ministers legislation which they are not prepared to introduce, the answer of Ministers should be not to call for abdication, but to refuse to act upon the King’s request, which thereupon becomes inoperative. If the King refuses to take the advice of his Ministers they are, of course, free to resign. They have no right whatever to put pressure upon him to accept their advice by soliciting beforehand assurances from the Leader of the Opposition that he will not form an alternative Administration in the event of their resignation, and thus confronting the King with an ultimatum. Again, there is cause for time and patience. Why cannot time be granted? The fact that it is beyond the King’s power to accomplish the purpose which Ministers oppose until the end of April surely strips the matter of constitutional urgency. There may be some inconvenience, but that inconvenience stands on a different plane altogether from the grave constitutional issues I have set forth. National and Imperial considerations alike require that before such a dread step as a demand for abdication is taken, not only should the constitutional position be newly defined by Parliament, but that every method should be exhausted which gives the hope of a happier solution. Lastly, but surely not least, there is the human and personal aspect. The King has been for many weeks under the greatest strain, moral and mental, that can fall upon a man. Not only has he been inevitably subjected to the supreme stress of his public duty, but also to the agony of his own personal feelings. Surely, if he asks for time to consider the advice of his Ministers, now that at length matters have been brought to this dire culmination, he should not be denied. Howsoever this matter may turn, it is pregnant with calamity and inseparable from inconvenience. But all the evil aspects will be aggravated beyond measure if the utmost chivalry and compassion are not shown, both by Ministers and by the British nation, towards a gifted and beloved King torn between private and public obligations of love and duty. The Churches stand for charity. They believe in the efficacy of prayer. Surely their influence must not oppose a period of reflection. I plead, I pray, that time and tolerance will not be denied. The King has no means of personal access to his Parliament or his people. Between him and them stand in their office the Ministers of the Crown. If they thought it their duty to engage all their power and influence against him, still he must remain silent. All the more must they be careful not to be the judge in their own case, and to show a loyal and Christian patience even at some political embarrassment to themselves. If an abdication were to be hastily extorted the outrage so committed would cast its shadow forward across many chapters of the history of the British Empire.”
21
 
However, Harold Laski, one of the Labour leaders, felt differently. He declared: “Out of this issue no precedent must be created that makes the royal authority once more a source of independent political power in the State. The Labour Party is a constitutional party. . . . Pivotal to that conception is the principle that a Labour government with a majority in the House of Commons is entitled to have its advice accepted by the Crown.... He may advise. He may encourage. He may warn. But if the Cabinet stands firm in its advice, the King must in our constitutional system necessarily give way.”
22
That weekend, hundreds took to the streets in London to demonstrate; large crowds gathered around the massive gates of Buckingham Palace day and night, singing, shouting, and cheering any vehicle that happened to appear. These supporters carried placards declaring their loyalty: “Hands off our King. Abdication means Revolution!” “We want Eddie and We want his Missus”; “Edward’s right and Baldwin’s wrong!”;
23
and “Let the King know you are with him—you can’t let him down. We want Edward. Perish all politicians!”
24
“The world is now divided into Cavaliers and Roundheads,” Chips Channon noted on December 7.
25
Everyone seemed enthralled at the crisis, at the royal romance. “I think,” says Dame Barbara Cartland, “that it was the first time the public had seen the inner feelings of royalty.”
26
Chief among these supporters was the King’s friend Sir Oswald Mosley and his band of British Unionists. They stormed through the streets that weekend, shouting, “Stand by the King!”
27
Mosley himself clearly saw the crisis in political terms and lost no chance to state his case. “How would you like a Cabinet of old busybodies to pick your girl?” he was heard to ask.
28
The weekend proved fatal to the King’s popular support. While London, more sophisticated and tolerant, took to the streets to support their King in his wish, MPs returning home to their various ridings were often confronted not with support for the monarch but with shock. Their constituents could not see beyond the fact that their King wished to marry a woman with two previous husbands still living. This rural outrage filtered back to London; although David had privately made up his mind to go, his supporters continued to believe that through sheer effort they would win the day. Monday afternoon would see these last illusions shattered.
22
 
Abdication
 
O
N MONDAY, DECEMBER 7
, Baldwin informed the House of Commons during their regular session that the government was awaiting word from the King regarding the crisis. “In considering the whole matter,” he stated, “it has always been, and remains, the earnest desire of the Government to afford to His Majesty the fullest opportunity of weighing a decision which involves so directly his own future happiness and the interests of all his subjects. At the same time they cannot but be aware that any considerable prolongation of the present state of suspense and uncertainty would involve risk of the gravest injury to national and imperial interests, and indeed no one is more insistent upon this aspect of the situation than His Majesty.”
1
As soon as Baldwin had finished, Churchill stood up and launched into an attack on the government, saying that it had no right to force the King to abdicate without allowing him to consult Parliament. It was now, however, that Churchill learned just how much the public mood had swung against the King. MPs, previously content to sit and watch the unfolding crisis from the backbenches, had been made fully aware of their constituents’ disapproval of the King’s relationship with Mrs. Simpson. As Churchill continued to speak, he was repeatedly interrupted with shouts, whistles, booing, and calls of “Sit down!” and “Shut up!” “Winston suffered an utter defeat....” Harold Nicolson wrote. “First we had Baldwin—slow and measured. Then Winston rose to ask a supplementary question. He failed to do it in the right form and was twice called to order by the speaker. He hesitated and waved his spectacles vaguely in the air. ‘Sit down!’ they shouted. He waved his spectacles again and then collapsed. It was almost painful.”
2
The next day, the
Times
described it as “the most striking rebuff in modern parliamentary history.”
3
After this scene, Churchill stormed out of the House in disgust. As soon as he had gone, an MP rose and asked the speaker, “Does the Prime Minister realize the deep sympathy which is felt for him in all sections of the House?”
4
The wild burst of applause which followed signaled the end of any idea for a King’s Party. It was clear that such a course of action would tear the country apart.
That evening, as word began to filter back to the Fort of what had taken place in the House of Commons, David once again met with his brother the Duke of York. After their last meeting on Thursday, the King had asked the Duke to come to see him the following morning; however, David spent most of the next few days huddled with his advisers and repeatedly stalled Bertie’s attempts to visit him at the Fort. This has always been interpreted as either cowardly or stubborn evasion on David’s part; however, it must be said that at the time the Duke was certainly not being kept in the dark about anything. He had been informed by his brother that he would marry Wallis or abdicate. The King’s weekend was consumed with important meetings, which were at the moment deciding his future. It is arguable, therefore, that Bertie was put off simply because David had no new news to tell him. David himself knew little of what was taking place within the government—the cabinet minutes outlining discussion on the issue were deliberately withheld from him. It seems reasonable to conclude, therefore, that in putting off his brother’s meeting, David was simply waiting until he had definitive news to report. There was little to be gained in another painful talk during which both brothers would be nervous and uneasy, with no issues yet settled. Throughout the weekend, however, the Duke and Duchess of York waited at Royal Lodge, Windsor, hoping for word from David. The Duchess was confined to her bed with the flu, and her illness further worried her already nervous husband. Several times that weekend, though, the Duke secretly returned to London to meet privately with the prime minister at No. 10 Downing Street. Both men were almost positive by this time that the King would abdicate, and thus their talks centered on the Duke’s eventual accession to the throne.
5
The Duke of York arrived at Fort Belvedere at seven that Monday evening. “The awful and ghastly suspense of waiting was over,” Bertie later wrote. “I found him pacing up and down the room, and he told me his decision that he would go.”
6
The next day, Tuesday, December 8, the
Times
carried several articles related to the crisis. Not surprisingly, these reflected the Conservative views of Geoffrey Dawson:
It is contended again that there are precedents for a morganatic union of the kind contemplated. There are none. No British precedents exist and no Continental precedents apply. The analogy from them is both false and foolish. Some Continental monarchs have been constitutionally restricted to wives of certain rank or birth. The morganatic marriage was a means whereby they could choose a wife outside the permitted circle, but without conferring upon her the status of a Royal Consort. In England this has never been necessary. The King of England—it needs to be repeated—is today, and throughout history has ever been, completely free in his choice of a wife, irrespective of rank and nationality, and is trammelled by no obligation to the Constitution or to his advisors. There has, as Lord Rothermere says, been no suggestion at any time from any quarter that the lady for whom the morganatic exception is recommended should become Queen. Yet in law—apart from the fact that she is not legally free to remarry—there is nothing to bar her from becoming Consort and Queen in the full sense. The disqualification here is not, as on the Continent, one of law, but of fact. What is demanded is statutory recognition of the fact that she is not fitted to be Queen. The Prime Ministers of the Empire are to be asked to propose, and the Parliaments to accept and ratify, a permanent statutory apology for the status of the lady whom the King desires to marry. The Constitution is to be amended in order that she may carry in solitary prominence the brand of unfitness for the Queen’s Throne. Can anyone in possession of his faculties imagine any Prime Minister moving, or any Parliament undertaking to support, a proposition so indivious and so distressing?
This foolish and deplorable product of misguided ingenuity must be cleared away once and for all, and delicate and difficult grounds will be freed of at least one superfluous encumbrance.
Nor are its intrinsic embarrassments and absurdities the only reason for condemning its resurrection at this stage. Those who purport to be advancing it in His Majesty’s interest are doing so in the face of the considered and unanimous decision of the five Empire Governments. In the form of advocacy which they have chosen, it is an unpleasantly significant recrudescence of the same movement—in the same quarter—which threatened not long ago to depict the Sovereign as in conflict with his elected and Ministerial advisers. It is also an attempt to force upon the King a decision which is his and his only, and which he may be trusted to make in his own time with full regard for the Coronation of which he is a custodian and for the hereditary trust, written and unwritten, that came into his hands from his father ten months ago.
7
 
That Tuesday evening, David received Baldwin at the Fort and informed him of his decision to abdicate. After this staggering news, David quite calmly asked the prime minister if he would care to dine with him. Monckton, who was also present, later wrote in admiration of the King: “This dinner party was, I think, his
tour de force.
In that quiet panelled room he sat at the head of the table with his boyish face and smile, with a good fresh colour while the rest of us were pale as sheets, rippling over with bright conversations, and with a careful eye to see that his guests were being looked after. He wore his white kilt. On Mr. Baldwin’s right was the Duke of York, and I was next to him, and as the dinner went on the Duke turned to me and said: ‘Look at him. We simply cannot let him go.’ But we both knew that there was nothing we could say or do to stop him.”
8
On Wednesday, Walter Monckton met with the Duke of York for several hours at his London residence, No. 145 Piccadilly. During this meeting, financial arrangements and other issues were discussed at some length. Monckton obtained the Duke’s word that once the King abdicated the throne, he would remain a Royal Prince and retain his royal rank. David himself was particularly concerned about the future. He knew that he would have to absent himself from England for an undetermined period of time; Bertie, having consulted with members of the cabinet and with the prime minister, told Monckton that all concerned had now decided that this period of exile was likely to be at least two years, during which time the new King could comfortably settle into his role and win the confidence and affection of his subjects without the distracting presence of a rival former sovereign. But the Duke of York agreed that his brother could live at Fort Belvedere when the time came for the end of his exile. At this point, no one—least of all the Duke of York—believed that such an exile would last for the rest of his brother’s life.
9
The Duke of York returned to Royal Lodge, leaving his ill wife in London. That afternoon, Queen Mary, accompanied by her daughter Mary, the Princess Royal, drove from Marlborough House to Windsor and on to Royal Lodge, where they were to meet with David. Soon the King’s black Daimler appeared through the rolling fog and mist, and David joined his mother and siblings in the saloon for tea. As gently as he could, he told them that he was to abdicate the following day. Walter Monckton happened to overhear Queen Mary exclaim in disgust, “To give up all that for this!”
10
Late that evening, David gave his brother a draft of his proposed abdication. Bertie immediately took it back to London, where he arrived at Marlborough House shortly before midnight. He showed the draft to his mother, and as she read through it, he broke down and sobbed on her shoulder.
11
In her diary, the Queen wrote: “Bertie arrived very late from Fort Belvedere and Mr. W. Monckton brought him & me the paper drawn up for David’s abdication of the Throne of this Empire because he wishes to marry Mrs. Simpson!!!!! The whole affair has lasted since Novr. 16th and has been very painful—It is a terrible blow to us all & particularly to poor Bertie.”
12
The Duke of York returned to his house late that evening knowing that on the following day he would become King. Throughout the previous week, the numerous visitors, secret meetings, and overheard tears had intrigued his two young daughters, ten-year-old Princess Elizabeth and six-year-old Princess Margaret. Their confusion was evident in a conversation a servant happened to hear that week. “What’s happening?” Margaret asked her sister. “I don’t know really,” the future Queen Elizabeth II replied, “but I believe Uncle David wishes to get married. I
think
he wants to marry Mrs. Baldwin—and Mr. Baldwin doesn’t like it!”
13
 
Meanwhile, in France, Wallis felt desperately cut off from the momentous events taking place in London. She repeatedly rang David at the Fort that weekend, urging him not to abdicate. The connections were almost always bad, and both had to shout at the tops of their lungs, over the crackling, hissing noises filling their receivers. David told Wallis that he hoped the situation was changing in his favor. Baldwin had agreed that he might consult Churchill, who could then present a constitutional argument to the House of Commons if he wished; meanwhile, Lord Beaverbrook had agreed to discuss the situation with members of the press.
“David, please listen to your friends,” she begged him.
“I will,” he replied.
“You must listen,” she continued. “Nothing will be lost, nothing will be changed, by your waiting.”
“You can trust me,” he continued. “However, I must deal with this situation in my own way.”
14
David, shouting at his end, left others in the Fort well aware of what was taking place. Sir Edward Peacock, one of the directors of the Bank of England, later recalled “the insistence over the telephone of the lady that he should fight for his rights. She kept up that line until very near the end, maintaining that he was King and his popularity would carry everything. . . .”
15
Such telephone calls began to take their toll on Wallis. She realized that there was no way she could remain in the situation and hope to win. Perry Brownlow told her frankly, “As I see it now, there is only one possible way of stopping this dreadful drift. It is for you to renounce the King.” For once, Wallis did not argue. She knew such a powerful declaration would both hurt and humiliate David, but there seemed no other way.
16
She discussed her decision with Brownlow, who agreed that only a strongly worded statement would be likely to avert an abdication. Together with Brownlow and Herman Rogers, Wallis drafted a statement; she read it to David over the telephone. At first, he was upset and hurt; he realized, however, that the statement would at least serve to divert some of the public blame from Wallis. At seven o’clock that Monday evening, the statement was released to the press: “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 forthwith from a situation that has been rendered both unhappy and untenable.”
17
That night, Wallis slept soundly for the first time in days, believing that the crisis would finally be averted by her statement.

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