45
The Duke’s Death
T
HE DAY AFTER
the royal visit, according to Oonagh Shanley, the Duke of Windsor seemed to improve slightly. “He was at peace within himself,” she recalls. Wallis joined him for lunch, and he ate more than usual. After this, she left him so that he might rest. He lay down for a nap, but when he awoke early that evening, he felt worse; he grew steadily weaker and was scarcely able to eat anything.
1
Thursday, May 25, marked the first time that David was unable to leave his bed. His temperature rose and fell, making him delirious at times. Wallis spent the majority of the day with him, occasionally returning to her own bedroom to rest for a few minutes. Finally, at midnight, she retired, leaving Oonagh Shanley to watch over him.
Just after three that morning, Shanley heard “a sickening thud and crash that suddenly shattered the silence. It came from the bathroom and as I leapt up and went in there it happened again, this time followed by a rasping croak, and I realized that some night creature was hitting against the window.” David seemed to be much worse. Fearing that he would not survive the night, she woke Wallis’s maid Giselle and prepared to ring Dr. Thin.
Throughout, a loud squawking from beyond the bedroom windows shattered the silence of the night. “What on earth are those birds making that horrible noise?” Shanley asked the maid.
“Oh, it’s the
corbeaux
,” she answered, a reply which Shanley interpreted to mean ravens, “though I’ve
never
heard them in the night before.” She paused a few seconds before adding thoughtfully, “But then, they’re Royal Birds, aren’t they?”
“She said it matter-of-factly,” Shanley recalled, “but I glanced at her in astonishment. I suddenly realized she meant the huge, shiny black ravens I’d often seen in the garden and then all the ominous legends, learned in childhood, came to my thoughts. The fatal ravens consecrated to the Danish war god, the ravens in
Macbeth
croaking their warning of Royal death.... I simply looked at the Royal Coat of Arms pinned to the wall above the bed, and the face of the man who’d once been a king, and thought, ‘Some things don’t change. The ravens have come for him.’ “
2
On Friday, deeply worried about the Duke, Wallis immediately telephoned New York and asked Dr. Arthur Antonucci, their American physician, to come to Paris at once. Antonucci dropped his schedule and caught the next plane, arriving in Paris late that afternoon. But after a careful examination of the Duke and review of his medical progress with Thin and Shanley, he took Wallis aside and sadly told her that there was nothing he could do.
From this moment on, Wallis rarely left her husband’s side. Both Thin and Shanley, who witnessed her sitting quietly at the side of David’s bed, holding his hand and whispering to him, saw and heard the struggle in her voice and actions to remain composed. Once, when she had disappeared temporarily, Shanley heard the Duke mutter, “England not far away.... The Waste ... the waste.”
3
Wallis spent most of Saturday with the Duke. She remained with him until eleven that night, when he said to her, “Darling, go to bed and rest. Oonagh will look after me.” Reluctantly, Wallis, overcome with exhaustion, allowed Giselle to lead her to her bedroom.
4
Late that night, Sydney Johnson, David’s valet, joined Shanley in his bedroom. Together, the two of them prayed. David’s favorite pug, Black Diamond, lay at the foot of his master’s bed; usually, when Dr. Thin approached, the dog raised its head and growled. This time, however, the dog simply turned its head away. “See,” Thin said to Shanley. “The dog knows what’s happening!”
5
David’s end, according to Oonagh Shanley, was entirely peaceful. According to the nurse, he died in his sleep, quietly, at 2:20 A.M., on Sunday, May 28. Later, Sydney Johnson would say that the Duke’s last words had been “Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama.”
6
But, according to Shanley, the story is apocryphal: Johnson was not present when the Duke died.
As soon as David died, Shanley left him, walking through the boudoir to the Duchess’s bedroom, where she woke Wallis and brought her back to his side. Wallis leaned down and kissed his forehead, then cupped his face in her hands and said quietly, “My David, my David.... You look so lovely.”
7
Wallis, in the words of Shanley, was “devastated.” The man who had given up his entire life to be with her was now gone; she lay on her bed, sobbing until exhaustion crept over her and she lapsed into an uneasy sleep.
8
The official announcement came from Buckingham Palace: “It is announced with deep regret that His Royal Highness The Duke of Windsor has died at his home in Paris at 2:25 A.M., Sunday, 28 May, 1972” The text of a telegram from the Queen to the Duchess was also released to the press: “I know that my people will always remember him with gratitude and great affection and that his services to them in peace and war will never be forgotten. I am so glad that I was able to see him in Paris ten days ago.”
9
Wallis, according to one friend, was deeply hurt that there was no personal telegram, no expression of grief or any mention at all of her own loss.
10
This, however, was by careful design. The telegram, writes Ben Pimlott, was “the product of much drafting.”
11
Tributes poured in from all over the world, and even the British newspapers were careful to mention the support which Wallis had given to David throughout their marriage. The
Daily Mail
commented in an editorial: “We cherish the memory of that most charming and most English of Englishmen whose love for a woman lost him his crown ... but not the affection of his people.”
12
And the
Guardian
noted that the Duke “was most fortunate in a long life in marrying a woman of admirable warmth and character.”
13
That Sunday was a busy day at the Windsor Villa. Early that morning, the French coroner arrived to certify the death. Sydney Johnson had carefully washed David’s body and laid him out in his bed; a Union Jack covered him to his neck, and the entire bed was surrounded with banks of white lilies, roses, chrysanthemums, and orchids.
14
Here he would remain until he was taken back to England; there was no autopsy.
15
Maurice Schumann, the French foreign minister, arrived at the villa to officially express the condolences of his government; exiled King Umberto of Italy also paid his respects that day, braving the crowd of press photographers and reporters that thronged around the tall, wrought-iron gate to the estate. Crowds also congregated at the British embassy on rue du Faubourg, where a condolence book had been set out for mourners to sign; by the end of the afternoon, over three hundred people had passed through the line to record their names in the book.
Another visitor to the villa that morning was designer Hubert de Givenchy, whom Wallis had asked to come and fit her for a mourning dress, coat, and hat. “It was the only time I ever saw her in bedroom slippers,” he told author Suzy Menkes, “with no make-up and her hair in a mess. She called me over to Neuilly and stood in her dressing room with her face completely overwhelmed with grief, and said, ‘You must make me a black dress and coat for the Duke’s funeral. Can you do it?’ I replied ‘Of course’ and we worked on it all night. She never forgot. That’s when she started to call me Hubert.”
16
The expressions of condolence and grief in Paris, indeed, pouring in from around the world, stood in stark contrast to the utter silence from Buckingham Palace. The day after David died, Monday, May 29, Harry Middleton of the BBC rang up Lord Mountbatten and asked if he would broadcast a tribute to the former King. “I refused,” Mountbatten recorded in his diary, “as this was against all precedent; I pointed out that I had not done anything of that sort for George VI when he died and he also had been a great friend. Middleton then made the point that the Royal Family had not paid any adequate tribute to the former King Edward VIII, certainly nothing comparable to the tributes paid by other Heads of States, like President Nixon and President Pompidou, and that it would be taken very much amiss by the public as a whole and the many great admirers of the former King if none of the family said anything about him at all.” Mountbatten rang Buckingham Palace to obtain official approval and found that Sir Martin Charteris, the Queen’s private secretary, opposed the idea of a tribute to the Duke. Only after Mountbatten pointed out the concerns Middleton had voiced about the public perception of the Royal Family’s surprising lack of grief did Charteris agree to speak to the Queen. Even so, Elizabeth II was reluctant to allow Mountbatten to broadcast any tribute to her late uncle. Only after “considerable thought” did she approve the idea, and then only if Mountbatten was careful not to praise him too highly.
17
This was not the only questionable response from Buckingham Palace. Later that afternoon, they announced simply: “The Duchess of Windsor has accepted the Queen’s invitation to stay at Buckingham Palace.” This rather uncomplicated sentence, however, hid a half day’s worth of animated discussions between John Utter in Paris, Sir Martin Charteris, and Lord Maclean, the Lord Chamberlain, during which the very issuance of the invitation was debated. Utter—and the Duchess—clearly expected that this simple courtesy would be extended as a matter of form; but the same reluctance which caused the Queen to warn Mountbatten that he must not speak too highly of the Duke also gave rise to speculation about Wallis’s presence in the palace. Eventually, it was decided that if the invitation was not issued, a major scandal would erupt over such a public humiliation, but Utter had had to work long and hard to convince the palace of this.
18
The announcement from the palace—although perfectly natural under other circumstances—was so out of the ordinary where the Duke and Duchess of Windsor were concerned that reporters asked why, after so many years of being forced to take a suite at Claridge’s Hotel when in London, the Duchess was now being accommodated by the Queen. “For this occasion, and for obvious human reasons, protocol has been waived,” the palace press office declared in response.
19
There was no official explanation of exactly what “protocol” was being waived; certainly it was customary for other members of the Royal Family and their close relatives to be accommodated in Buckingham Palace during funeral ceremonies. As a result, the invitation was viewed rather cynically in the press. Leslie Pine, former editor of
Burke’s Peerage
, commented: “I welcome it. But the invitation should have been extended to both of them before the Duke’s death.”
20
And the
London Evening News
declared: “How ironic it is that the first occasion since the Abdication on which she will have been welcomed to the Palace will be for her husband’s burial. Would this visit not be an appropriate time for her to be accorded the courtesy title of Her Royal Highness on which the Duke had set his heart?”
21
But there would be no offer of a royal style forthcoming; Queen Elizabeth II would never have gone against the policy set down by her father, particularly not while her mother was alive.
On Wednesday, May 31, David’s body was returned to England. That afternoon, Wallis, clad in a simple black dress, stood in silence on the steps of her villa, surrounded by members of the household and staff, watching as the body of her husband, now encased in a simple coffin of English oak, was carried through the front door and to the waiting hearse. The lid of the coffin was covered with the Duke’s standard; a simple cross of red and white carnations and gladioli rested atop the standard, with a card reading “From Wallis.”
Wallis was overwhelmed with grief and decided to temporarily remain in Paris. Overcome with the enormity of her loss and the strain, she collapsed from exhaustion The hearse, accompanied by a motorcycle escort, an air marshal, and three vice-marshals, drove to Le Bourget Airport, where a plane from the Queen’s flight waited to take the Duke back to England. At the end of the short, hour-long flight, the plane landed at RAF Benson, where the Duke and Duchess of Kent met the coffin. As it was unloaded from the plane, a band played the first six bars of the national anthem. That night, the Duke’s body lay in the RAF Chapel. On the following day, however, he went home, to Windsor.
David’s coffin first rested in the Albert Memorial Chapel before being moved into the adjacent St. George’s Chapel, where he was to lie in state. At eleven o’clock on Friday morning, the public was admitted for their first glimpse of the coffin. It lay on a catafalque at the center of a dais carpeted in the same blue as the sash of the Order of the Garter. The Duke’s personal standard was draped carefully over the edges of the coffin. Six tall candlesticks stood around the dais; the mourning candles, of unbleached orange wax, burned all day and night. On the tier below were officers of the Household Cavalry and the Brigade of Guards standing a guard of honour, four men at a time.
22