The King Who Had to Go Read online

  Chamberlain was also misinformed about the contents of Hardinge’s letter. He was told that the letter reflected what had become Wilson’s hobbyhorse, ‘calling the K.’s attention to the growing resentment & apprehension in the country’, whilst the letter actually referred to the likelihood of the press breaking silence.60 Chamberlain was not told that the letter warned of the government’s supposedly imminent resignation, but merely ‘that ministers were in consultation about it [public disquiet]’. This is far closer to Baldwin’s take on what the King had been told, which opens the possibility that Wilson was anxious to conceal this crucial aspect of what Hardinge wrote.

  There remains a large question mark over what Baldwin actually knew. He probably did not see Hardinge’s letter, but he knew much of the background. It was Hardinge’s job to keep the King in touch with government thinking, and Baldwin may not have wished to appear to be dictating how this was done. It could be a normal instance of a politician knowing what had to be done, but wishing to avoid compromising himself too deeply. Baldwin could see through Wilson, and later on in the crisis, he played on this without scruple. It is practically impossible that he was utterly ignorant of what Wilson was up to. He awarded Wilson a GCB in his resignation honours, the highest grade of knighthood generally available to a civil servant, as a reward for his services during the crisis, which argues firmly against him having had qualms or resentment over what had been done.

  NOTES

  1. Jones, A Diary with Letters, p. 280; NA PREM 1/466

  2. Channon diaries, 11 November. The headline is almost certainly apocryphal; very few US tabloid readers would have known that Wolsey was the architect of Henry VIII’s divorce

  3. NA MacDonald diary, 29 October

  4. Helen Hardinge diary, 1 November

  5. Chamberlain diary, 4 November

  6. Chamberlain diary, 4 November

  7. Chamberlain diary, 4 November

  8. Chamberlain diary, 2 November

  9. NA PREM 1/466

  10. NA PREM 1/466

  11. NA PREM 1/449, Note by Attorney General, 4 November

  12. NAA M104, Bruce memorandum, 15 November

  13. Somervell journal, quoted in Montgomery-Hyde, Baldwin: The Unexpected Prime Minister, p. 567

  14. NA PREM 1/449, Memorandum by Parliamentary Counsel, 4 November

  15. NA PREM 1/449, Gwyer memorandum, 5 November

  16. Middlemas and Barnes, Baldwin, p. 987

  17. Chamberlain diary, 4 November

  18. Chamberlain diary, 4 November

  19. Chamberlain to Hilda, 14 November

  20. Chamberlain to Hilda, 4 April; Chamberlain to Ida, 13 April

  21. Chamberlain diary, 25 November; NA PREM 1/463, Fisher to Chamberlain, 7 November

  22. Chamberlain diary, 25 November

  23. Chamberlain diary, 4 November

  24. NA PREM 1/466

  25. NA PREM 1/466

  26. Chamberlain diary, 4 November

  27. Helen Hardinge diary, 6 November

  28. NA PREM 1/463, Fisher to Chamberlain, 7 November; Hardinge Loyal to Three Kings, p. 131

  29. Hardinge, Loyal to Three Kings, p. 131

  30. NA TS 22/1/1, Mainwaring to King’s Proctor, 20 October; Thomson to Barnes, 6 November

  31. Hardinge, Loyal to Three Kings, p. 131

  32. Hardinge, Loyal to Three Kings, p. 131

  33. NA PREM 1/463, Fisher to Chamberlain. Drafts also NA PREM 1/463 given in full as Appendices A and B

  34. Davidson, Memoirs of a Conservative, p. 417

  35. NA PREM 1/463

  36. NA PREM 1/463, Chamberlain handwritten amendments to draft letter

  37. Chamberlain diary, first entry, second volume, n.d. but 18–23 November

  38. NA PREM 1/466

  39. Stanley Baldwin papers, add. papers, Lucy Baldwin memorandum, 17 November

  40. NAA M104, Bruce memorandum, 15 November

  41. Hardinge, Loyal to Three Kings, p. 132

  42. Lascelles to Helen Hardinge, 1964, private collection

  43. Hardinge, Loyal to Three Kings, p. 133. Given in full as Appendix C

  44. Hardinge, Loyal to Three Kings, p. 134

  45. Hardinge, Loyal to Three Kings, pp 14–15

  46. Helen Hardinge diary, 13 November

  47. NA PREM 1/466

  48. Davidson, Memoirs of a Conservative, p. 415

  49. Stanley Baldwin papers, add. papers, Lucy Baldwin memorandum, 17 November

  50. Hardinge letter to The Times, 29 November 1955

  51. NA PREM 1/466

  52. NA PREM 1/466

  53. Chamberlain diary, first entry, second volume, n.d. but 18–23 November

  54. Chamberlain diary, first entry, second volume, n.d. but 18–23 November

  55. NA MacDonald diary, 13 November

  56. NA PREM 1/466

  57. NA PREM 1/466

  58. Reith diaries, 9 February 1940

  59. Monckton narrative

  60. Chamberlain diary, first entry, second volume, n.d. but 18–23 November

  CHAPTER 7

  QUEEN OR NOTHING

  * * *

  Mind you if I can stay and marry Wallis is going to be Queen or nothing.

  KING EDWARD VIII QUOTED IN DUFF COOPER’S DIARY

  WHEN THE KING received Hardinge’s letter after a tiring two days visiting the Royal Navy, his first reaction was fury. If Baldwin, Wilson or Hardinge had imagined that Hardinge’s letter would upset him less than Fisher’s crass ultimata, they had been proved entirely wrong. The King immediately grasped the key fact that he was being warned of the possible resignation of the government; he sensed that a gun was being pointed at his head to make him drop Mrs Simpson.1 He knew full well that Hardinge would not have told him about this without the government’s endorsement. His first reaction was to assume that the letter had simply been written at Baldwin’s behest, that ‘Hardinge was a tool, a catspaw’.2 The King was wrong, but Downing Street must take responsibility for the letter. Everyone there, Baldwin included, shared responsibility for the fact of the letter and the warning that ministers were meeting and the implicit claim that the government was close to resignation, which gave the letter the feel of an ultimatum.

  Not only was the King offended at what he saw as an ultimatum, but he took particular umbrage at the very point that Wilson could have warned Hardinge about. The King was incensed at the suggestion that Mrs Simpson should be sent out of the country. On one level this inspired him to a gush of cod-chivalric anger at ‘the startling suggestion that I send from my land, my realm, the woman I intended to marry’.3 On a more mundane level the proposal bracketed Mrs Simpson with his youngest brother’s ‘doxies’, the female companions of the Duke of Kent’s disastrous wild years from which the King had played a large part in rescuing him.

  The family got rid of my younger brother’s girls. Scotland Yard could be quick, silent and invisible in those little jobs. No strong arm measures, mind you – only a firm suggestion. Then a bank address in a foreign land or a packet of five-pound notes. A state-room reservation and a departure in the dead of night, with an unobtrusive stranger a step or two behind to make sure that the tearful ‘misunderstood’ lady was on her way. I was having none of that.4

  The King’s first instinct was to sack Hardinge, but he was deterred by Walter Monckton, to whom he showed the letter two days after he received it.5 Monckton warned him that dismissing Hardinge would instantly signal to the outside world that the two had disagreed over Mrs Simpson. The King’s real motive was fury at what he perceived as an insult to Mrs Simpson, which overrode his objective recognition that Hardinge was merely doing his duty in warning him of the government’s concern. The Duke of Windsor later complained of the ‘cold formality’ of the letter, although he clearly did not have a warm relationship with Hardinge. Hardinge remained in place, but in practice he was entirely side-lined and played no further part in the crisis. Monckton took over as the intermediary between the King and Dow
ning Street.

  It is doubtful whether the impasse over the King’s relationship with Mrs Simpson could ever have been resolved amicably. The King was committed to a strategy of acting as though there were nothing exceptionable going on at all, and Baldwin was determined to postpone action as long as possible. When the stalemate was broken it was more than likely that this would happen messily. After Hardinge’s letter, any possibility of a harmonious conclusion disappeared. Provoking the King also triggered the impatience which was another feature of his immaturity. According to one of the drafts of his memoirs, ‘…if Alec Hardinge had truly reflected Mr Baldwin’s attitude, then time could not wait. I must send for him at once and declare myself; tell him frankly that I intended to marry W.’6 The King’s instinctive unreflecting haste combined with acrimony and distrust to set the pattern for the next stages in the crisis.

  The King later described Hardinge’s letter as a challenge. In fact, he seems to have gone further and treated it almost as a declaration of war. He summoned Baldwin to an audience, but even before he had seen him, took a step that escalated the confrontation. He sought the advice and, implicitly, the support of the press baron Beaverbrook, Baldwin’s irreconcilable enemy. It was a typical impetuous and unreflecting act by the King. Beaverbrook had appeared to be an ally over the question of press coverage of Mrs Simpson’s divorce, and in the King’s solipsistic world could be counted on to support him in the burgeoning conflict with the government. He had few alternatives. The King had very few friends amongst the great and the good of the land. Such worthies were part of the royal world that he held at arm’s length from the unchallenging world of the people with whom he could relax at Fort Belvedere. It is quite possible that he was simply unaware of the full extent of the hostility between Baldwin and Beaverbrook, although he did recognise a darker aspect to Beaverbrook’s personality.

  Beaverbrook was willing to help the King, but by chance he could not be brought into play immediately. He had left England on an ocean liner bound for America on Saturday 14th for an indeterminate stay, purportedly to cure his chronic asthma in a drier climate. This had been announced publicly, but not directly to the King. Nothing shows better the extent of the King’s egotism than his complaint to Beaverbrook in the telegram that he sent to him on board the Bremen that he had not informed him of his plans.7 When the Bremen arrived in New York, the King followed up with further telegrams and telephone calls both directly and through Beaverbrook’s staff, notably Mike Wardell, his friend at that court. The message was plain: the King wanted Beaverbrook back in Britain. Beaverbrook had shown he was the King’s man by helping keep the press silent, so it was his duty to help with the next phase. Beaverbrook’s memoir implies that he returned to Britain under pressure, but this is hardly credible.8 He was a supreme opportunist and believed his skill lay in guiding crises to his advantage, so it would have been entirely against character for him not to have taken up the challenge. Exactly how the King expected Beaverbrook to help beyond giving his advice is unclear. He hinted to Duff Cooper that Beaverbrook’s task would be to ensure that the story of the King’s plan to marry would be broken in a favourable light in the press but, according to Beaverbrook, he might be ‘consulted on wider issues’.9 Beaverbrook was suspicious that telephone calls would be intercepted, so there was as good as no practical discussion whilst he was in New York, and there would be a hiatus of a few days whilst the Bremen returned to Europe with him on board. By the time he arrived, what would anyhow have been a tricky question of developing a worthwhile strategy had become even more complex.

  Beaverbrook was not the only potential ally that the King had in mind. When the King summoned Baldwin to see him on the evening of the following day, Monday, he proposed that two Cabinet ministers who he had reason to think might be sympathetic to his cause should come as well, as though he were a duellist nominating his seconds.10 He suggested that Baldwin bring his own, and mentioned Chamberlain and Halifax. In the event Baldwin declined and saw the King alone. This was in keeping with what Baldwin did throughout the crisis: keeping it as a dialogue between the two of them. It does not appear that he spotted the implication of the King’s idea: to force some political debate on the matter. At that stage, Baldwin had no means of knowing how badly Hardinge’s letter had miscarried and that the King was very close to open hostilities with the government.

  Almost a month after their first inconclusive conversation about Mrs Simpson at Fort Belvedere, the Prime Minister came to Buckingham Palace at 6.30 p.m., Monday 16 November. This time there was no pretence that they were there to discuss anything other than the threat of a constitutional crisis over Mrs Simpson, but there was an immediate breakdown in communication. Both wanted to tell the other something that was non-negotiable; neither was there to discuss alternatives. The King had summoned Baldwin to tell him that he was going to marry Mrs Simpson, come what may. The Prime Minister had come to tell the King that he could not marry Mrs Simpson and remain on the throne, as public opinion would not countenance this. Baldwin began with a blunt statement of his position. The King was irked to be, in his view, lectured on the duties of kingship, and irritated by Baldwin’s tic of cracking his fingers for emphasis. The King cut him short by saying that if he was right about public opinion, he would abdicate, as he was determined to marry Mrs Simpson.11 He made willingly an admission that some, notably Stanley Bruce the Australian High Commissioner, had thought would have to be forced out of him. He had begun his serious dialogue with the government by painting himself into a corner. When the King’s allies tried to persuade him to stonewall against the government later in the crisis, they were trying to make him reverse the effect of this statement. In the King’s eyes it was not an admission at all; rather, it announced his intention to marry a woman of transcendent merits. He never quite grasped how anyone could take a dim view of her. He might also have miscalculated how much the government would fear abdication. The King was fully aware of his own popularity with the public.

  Baldwin took what the King said as a firm commitment to leave the throne.12 It did not seem to have occurred to him that anyone could challenge his reading of public opinion. It was practically an article of faith that Mrs Simpson was unacceptable, and thus that to marry her, the King would have to go. The King thought otherwise: that the country might accept her as Queen. One draft of his memoirs went so far as to state, ‘But of course I was not going to accept without a challenge his bold statement that the Cabinet and the country would not stand for the marriage’.13 The exact words the King used to answer Baldwin’s claim and the tone in which they were uttered have vanished beyond recall. A handful of words spoken over a few seconds are inevitably subject to different hearings and memories. The failure in communication rested on an omission by each participant. With hindsight, the Prime Minister can be faulted for not trying to put some flesh on the bones of the King’s willingness to abdicate. This would have revealed instantly the gulf in their different understandings of the conversation. But Baldwin had not lost all hope of keeping the King, and, according to Wilson’s notes, closed the conversation by asking the King ‘again to think the matter over’.14 On his side the King deserves a greater share of the blame, because he did not make it plain to Baldwin that he disagreed with him as to whether public opinion would accept marriage to Mrs Simpson. When Baldwin regretted the ‘grievous’ decision he had taken, the King treated it as referring to his hypothetical willingness to abdicate rather than a firm commitment to do so. It is possible that the King foresaw a head-on confrontation and wanted to hide the outright disagreement until he had time to prepare.

  Baldwin irritated the King by telling him that the country would not object strongly to him having a mistress. This seemed to the King to be the ‘height of hypocrisy’.15 It also implied that Mrs Simpson had loose enough morals to countenance such an arrangement, but, as the King insisted to Baldwin, ‘Mrs. Simpson is a lady.’16 Baldwin was taken aback; his view of Mrs Simpson was marked by the Special
Branch reports of her sex life and it stood in stark contrast to the radiant image of female perfection that the King held of his intended bride. He was infatuated beyond reason. Baldwin rounded off his unintentional exercise in provoking the King by alluding to concerns over the validity of Mrs Simpson’s divorce.17

  Baldwin seems to have missed a couple of clues in what he heard that should have warned him that the King believed that things were far from settled. The King asked that Baldwin should not immediately mention ‘his decision except to 2 or 3 trusted privy councillors’. He also asked for permission to speak to his two ‘personal friends’ in the Cabinet, whom he had nominated as his chosen seconds in the abortive proposal to make it a larger meeting: Sam Hoare and Duff Cooper.18 He had been forbidden to have them as supporters in his audience with the Prime Minister, but there was still a long way to go, and he saw them as potential allies. When he told his wife about the conversation, Baldwin mentioned only the King’s request to keep the news of his decision to a minimum of individuals without drawing any conclusion from this. He was similarly nonchalant about the King’s wish to speak to Hoare and Duff Cooper, which he thought went no further than telling them of his decision. Neither Baldwin nor Chamberlain, to whom he mentioned the King’s request, recognised that the King was trying to build a group of supporters.

  Baldwin might have been misled by the King’s superficial friendliness into failing to spot that they were teetering on the edge of open conflict, but he did recognise that the conversation had been far from perfect. In Lucy Baldwin’s account:

  All the time the King was most charming, but S[tanley]. said he felt a streak of almost madness. The King simply could not understand & S. couldn’t make him. The King was obsessed by a woman & that was the long & short of it – he said he couldn’t do his work without her & that she was the best friend he had ever had & he couldn’t live without her. S. was so impressed by the want of sanity & clear vision in it all that he feared that really he might completely go ‘off it’ if at the moment he was more directly opposed & Mrs. Simpson disappeared.19