The Spy Who Painted the Queen (27 page)

Before the denaturalisation hearing, the authorities carried out, as best they could, an examination of the French Secret Service documents. They were acknowledged as being the most important evidence, but also that it was doubtful how far they could be used. They began with the first note, dated 7 July, noting that:

László has access to splendid political information.

László did not deny all knowledge of ‘Madame G', but merely said he could not remember who it was.

The Dutch Diplomatic Bag was used by De László.

Of the letter dated 12 July they commented:

By this time the French Secret Service have got hold of De László's name.

The mechanism of the passing of the secret information is quite correct, viz László has access to Official Circles, he was in touch with a Dutch subject, and the Dutch Subject was in touch with Austria, and very probably by Switzerland, see as to this László's statement to Scotland Yard.

The letter dated 24 July prompted:

The French Secret Service have found out that the intermediary is known as the ‘ami Hollondaise'.

Of the letter dated 14 June, that had been procured by Thomson's agent, they were effusive:

This document is addressed to László at his correct address. Let us assume that the superscription is a forgery. The contents of the letter, however, are too strong to be disregarded.

László did wish to recover his nationality.

He had access to Society, Court and Intellectual circles.

He was a vain man; hence his correspondent flatters him.

‘Madame G' reappears. This is a remarkable coincidence.

Enclosure

The ‘ami Hollondaise' reappears; again a curious coincidence.

The information alleged to have been furnished by László was easily within his power, having regard to his position.

The nationality question crops up again.

The last paragraph is true, but hardly the thing which Laszlo would advertise.

Two further points should be noted.

Madame van Riemsdyk was reported to MI5 by their Rotterdam agent, on August 4th last, as a person known to have acted as intermediary for correspondence with Austria.

The Comte de Soissons, writing to Basil Thomson on September 24th last, says ‘HE IS CERTAINLY UNFRIENDLY TO US, IF NOT DELIBERATELY AND MALICIOUSLY DANGEROUS'. Thomson does not think much of the Comte's judgment, but this is certainly strong language.

So the authorities felt that the information was internally consistent and matched other information they knew (the use of the bag) that very few others did. It might be argued that MI5 somehow forged the correspondence, but there are letters on the file from Bigham, who worked for SIS, and it would have been remarkably foolish to involve a member of another agency, whose job it was to liaise closely with the French, in an act of forgery. It would also be incredibly risky to plant a story claiming that the king was having doubts about the war. It could be argued that the French wrote the notes as a means of discrediting De László in the eyes of their allies, but what purpose would that serve? A more interesting theory might be that the documents were created by the Austrian secret service and planted on the French in order to cause problems for a man they considered a traitor and renegade. This is plausible apart from the fact that they would be using a double agent who could be better deployed in planting false military or political information that could be used to win the war.

So if De László was a spy, why wasn't MI5 able to prove it? There would have been immediate problems with MI5's investigation. It was clear from the correspondence (the letter dated 16 July) that Madame G and De László had already felt watched and had been warned to keep their heads down. Any evidence would surely have been destroyed once they thought they were watched. Provided De László had sent his reports by hand to Madame G (whoever she was), they wouldn't have been picked up by the special supervision exercised over his correspondence. We know, from his own admission, that letters destined for transmission in the bag were taken by hand, usually by Miss Lundquist, and there is only his word as to how many she said she actually took. As a Dutch subject, Madame G would have had every excuse to visit the legation; it's also possible the Dutch had reasons of their own for helping them out.

Adrienne Van Reimsdyk was sister of the Dutch foreign minister and it's interesting to ponder whether the Dutch might have been getting something out of transmitting (and reading) the messages De László was alleged to have sent. Holland was caught between a rock and a hard place. It was heavily dependent upon imports, which were strictly controlled by the British in order to prevent re-export to Germany (SIS obtained copies of customs manifests for legitimate exports, which were analysed closely for any sign of Holland breaking her re-export agreements), and yet bounded along most of her frontier by a Germany that had a much larger army and upon which the Dutch were heavily dependent for coal supplies. Maintaining neutrality was difficult and, though Dutch financial institutions and merchants made substantial profits from dealings with both sides, conditions in the country were deteriorating. The British blockade had caused food shortages leading to food riots; fears that Germany would use the winter of 1916–17 to bully Holland by restricting coal supplies had not come to pass, but it remained a distinct possibility as relations between the two countries deteriorated during 1917 as the effects of the German submarine blockade also began to bite.

In April 1917, British double agent COMO reported a meeting he had had with a member of the German general staff who had warned him that there would be war with Holland within a fortnight. There was little doubt that the German army would sweep through the country rapidly. It was important, then, that the Dutch government kept closely in touch with developments and opinions abroad. The admission by a Dutch consul in 1918 that the Dutch Foreign Ministry contained a division ‘for facilitating private communication between people residing in belligerent countries' suggests that there was a deliberate policy of encouraging private contacts, possibly with the same aim as the British censorship – to use it as a means of gathering intelligence from abroad. De László's communications and the alleged reports might have proved invaluable to them. It is unlikely we'll ever know – Dutch intelligence burned their files when Germany did finally invade, in May 1940.

De László, again by his numerous admissions, felt close to his former homeland and deeply regretted its treatment of him as a result of his naturalisation. He felt closer still to his family who remained there. Whether or not he wanted the return of his nationality, he had strong motives for wishing to help his old country. He had splendid opportunity to do so. He was close to the circles that ran the war and to the diplomats in London who could supply, unknowingly, high-level information. Evidence was given that he asked questions about supplies and consumption of ammunition. The alleged means of transmitting the information matched a route that De László was known to use, the Dutch diplomatic bag, and it's interesting that he only ever sent his personal mail to the legation by hand (meaning a forty-minute walk from his house in Palace Gate to the Dutch Legation in Montagu Place), which conveniently meant it never entered the postal system. MI5 doesn't seem to have been aware of any propaganda role for him before the French told it, but then discovered that he had talked pointedly to his clients about Britain's allies, denigrating the Russians and claiming that America's entry into the war was simply to create a military spirit in preparation for her own war with Japan and Mexico. He had contact addresses for known and suspected pacifists and pacifist propagandists such as Szebenyei, who was interned for a likely connection to Hungarian propaganda; Robert Dell, the Fabian pacifist; Rudolph Said-Ruete, who wrote pro-German booklets; and Countess Helena Pourtales, who supplied English-language German newspapers to America. He had copies of propaganda leaflets and books.

Though he claimed ignorance of the censorship and ‘Trading with the Enemy' rules he was remarkably adept at getting round them, and despite many of the people ‘in the know', such as the Board of Trade employees, thinking he should be prosecuted for his breaches of the regulations, he wasn't. Lots of people, who had committed much more trivial breaches of the same rules, were. Everyone was aware of his connections (he was an inveterate name dropper) and his society friends rallied round to support one of their own. It's hard to avoid the conclusion that it was considered not to be in the public interest to denaturalise him because it would undermine the positions of his many friends in the Lords and Commons (including a former prime minister and a serving chancellor).

Kind and loving family man though he undoubtedly was, Philip De László had a strong streak of self-interest running through him. Caught in a difficult situation not of his own making, he tried to play both ends against the middle, toadying to the British establishment and providing help to the Hungarians in the form of propaganda and information. Whichever side lost, he was going to be able to claim he was on the other.

W
ITH HIS CHARACTER
apparently vindicated by the committee, De László was free to go back to his profession, and he completed twenty portraits by the end of 1919, earning £8,000. He resumed advertising in
The Times
and in 1920 completed forty-two portraits, earning over £20,000. Prominent sitters gradually flocked to him again and he painted, among many others, US President Harding, Benito Mussolini and Queen Marie of Roumania.

In early 1925 the Home Office received an enquiry from the Lord Chamberlain asking whether De László was suitable to be received at Court. A two-page memorandum was drawn up which set out the basics of the events that had led up to his internment and the appearance before the Revocation Committee. It concluded:

The Committee found that the continuance of his naturalization certificate was not inconsistent with public good and reported that its revocation was not desirable. After these findings the internment order against László was revoked by the Home Secretary Mr Shortt in July 1919.

Mr De László is therefore now a British subject and is entitled to all political and other rights, powers and privileges to which a natural born British subject is entitled. Under Article 213 of the Treaty of Trianon Hungary recognised any new nationality acquired by her nationals under the laws of the Allied Powers, and it is clear that Hungary has no longer any claim in regard to Mr De László.

There would seem to be no reason now, so far as the Home Office point of view is concerned, why Mr De László should not be received at Court. He is of course a well-known person socially and is I believe an intimate friend of Mr Austen Chamberlain, who has known him for a good many years.

The memo is initialled by ‘H R D' and dated 9/2/25. Another official has hand written beneath, ‘I have written to the Lord Chamberlain accordingly.'

Shortly after this enquiry he had painted Rosemary, the daughter of Lord Cromer, the Lord Chamberlain, and had received a letter of gratitude and appreciation from Lady Cromer. He painted Lady Cromer herself a few weeks later and there followed, shortly afterwards, an invitation to a Buckingham Palace garden party, which delighted De László, who had not been invited to a Court function since his release from internment. Here he was presented to the king by Lord Cromer himself.

The return to Court circles removed any potential problems from De László painting members of the Royal Family, and in 1931 he painted the Duke and Duchess of York (later, of course, to become King George VI and Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother). Further contact with the family led to him painting the 7-year-old Princess Elizabeth, already heir to the throne, in 1933. The finished piece went on display at Knoedlers of Bond Street that June, and reproductions in black and white and in colour proved very popular. The
Illustrated London News
ran a full-page image of the portrait in its issue of 30 December 1933, describing it as ‘charming'. It is a nice portrait. Of Princess Elizabeth, De László was quoted as saying, ‘She is the most amazing child I have ever painted – I have never met such an intelligent child. She talks as easily and as wisely as a grown-up.'

He continued to paint and to travel, visiting the USA, Spain, Morocco, France and Italy, and was fêted on a visit to Hungary in 1935. He continued to work hard and painted the Archbishop of York, the Duke of Kent and, in 1936, the mistress of the King of Roumania.

De László died, following a heart attack and after a long and slow descent into ill-health, on 22 November 1937. His memorial service at St Margaret's, Westminster, was attended by a host of society names – though, perhaps surprisingly, few of the really highest in the land. His friend and witness Austen Chamberlain had died earlier in the year. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Cosmo Lang, gave the blessing.
The Times
obituary described him as ‘the most fashionable portrait painter of modern times',
but appeared to imply that part of his success was due to his ability to flatter his sitters. Of his artistic style, the obituarist said:

His work was large and broad in style but lacked subtlety, both as regards characterization and form and colour, and for all his command of the picture space he was weak in construction. He succeeded by his power of generalizing a conception of the sitter which was both complimentary to the individual and suggestive of the environment.

His estate, on death, was valued at £141,000 gross – the equivalent of almost £9,000,000 today.