The Duchess Of Windsor, page 29
Members of the British Royal Family as well as those in direct line of succession to the throne were governed by two different legal statutes. The first, the Act of Settlement, had regulated the passage of the British Crown to the German House of Hanover and stipulated that potential heirs and successors could only marry a Roman Catholic on forefeiture of dynastic rights. The second statute was the Royal Marriages Act, which decreed that all members of the British Royal Family as well as potential heirs in the line of succession were required to obtain the sovereign’s consent before contracting a marriage. Although the King, as sovereign, was obliged to follow the dictates of the Act of Settlement, he was himself exempt from the provisions of the Royal Marriages Act.
The ruling government of Great Britain had no legal authority to impose restrictions on the marriage of a king or regnant queen. Nor was there any constitutional requirement that the sovereign seek the permission of the prime minister or his cabinet. In short, there was nothing which allowed the government of the day to raise any objection to the marriage of the King.
Legally, the King was also perfectly free to marry a divorcée. Once the British courts of justice had ruled in her case, as writer Stephen Birmingham has pointed out, Wallis was technically clear of any social or moral impediment to remarriage. The court, in the course of the divorce proceedings, had examined the evidence and advanced a judgment which had ruled for Wallis in the action; thus, according to British law, she was the injured party. For the court to have so ruled, they also had to conclude that her first divorce had been legal and without irregularity. Whatever doubts there might be as to collusion, according to centuries of British law at least, Wallis was blameless.2
Morally, however, the King was treading in dangerous waters where divorce was concerned. It was ironic that the traditions which defined the King’s role as defender of the faith in the Church of England—which conflicted with his desire to marry Wallis—had been born out of another king’s determination to divorce and remarry. When Henry VIII married his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, she was the widow of his brother, and he had been obliged to seek special papal dispensation. When the marriage soured due to Catherine’s inability to provide the King with a male heir, Henry fell in love with Anne Boleyn and appealed to Pope Clement VII to annul his union with the Spanish princess. The Pope, however, refused; Henry VIII openly broke with Rome and created his own Church of England, of which he became defender of the faith. His new church was ruled by an archbishop of Canterbury, who promptly declared his marriage to Catherine invalid. As a result, the Pope excommunicated the British king.
In the years following Henry VIII’s reign, however, the Church of England began to impose a strong prohibition on divorce. Only a few years before the abdication crisis, the Archbishop of Canterbury had declared that he was opposed to Anglican ministers performing marriages involving parties that had been divorced if the former spouse was still alive. Cosmo Lang, as Archbishop of Canterbury, was greatly worried about the King’s relationship from a religious standpoint. Not only did he perceive Edward VIII as a corrupting, morally questionable influence, but he feared the forthcoming coronation, during which he would have to anoint the King with holy oil, an act which signified the church’s blessing of a man openly living with his divorced mistress and who had now expressed his determination to marry her. “The thought of my having to consecrate him as King weighed on me as a heavy burden,” Lang wrote in his diary. “Indeed I considered whether I could bring myself to do so.” He added ominously: “But I had a sense that circumstances might change. . . .”3
On Monday, November 16, Wallis and Aunt Bessie returned to her house at Cumberland Terrace. That evening, David met with the prime minister at Buckingham Palace. He came straight to the point. “I understand,” he said, “that you and several members of the Cabinet have some fear of a constitutional crisis developing over my friendship with Mrs. Simpson.”
“Yes, Sir,” Baldwin replied, “that is correct.”4
The King explained that he had reached a private understanding with Lord Beaverbrook and Esmond Harmsworth, as the result of which the silence of their newspapers over the relationship would be guaranteed. But Baldwin, who maintained close ties with Geoffrey Dawson, knew that there was no such arrangement with the Times, and he warned the King that inevitably the silence of the press would be broken. Hearing this, David asked if a marriage between him and Wallis would meet with the prime minister’s approval.5
Baldwin warned that this would not be likely. The prime minister later recalled: “That marriage would have involved the lady becoming Queen. I did tell His Majesty that I might be a remnant of the old Victorians, but that my worst enemy would not say of me that I did not know what the reaction of the English people would be to any particular course of action. . . . I pointed out to him that the position of the King’s wife was different from the position of the wife of any other citizen of the country. His wife becomes Queen; the Queen becomes the Queen of the country; and therefore, in the choice of a Queen the voice of the people must be heard.”6
Instead, Baldwin emphasized that it was only marriage to which the government objected; the King could certainly keep Wallis as his mistress. But David protested that this was a hypocritical position. “There has always been,” the prime minister replied, “a leniency regarding the private relations of Kings just because they are the only people subjected to strict regulation with regard to their marriages and wives.”7
David considered this for a moment. Then, according to Baldwin, he declared: “I am going to marry Mrs. Simpson, and I am prepared to go.”8
“Sir,” Baldwin said, “that is most grievous news, and it is impossible for me to make any comment on it today.”9
Although the prime minister tried to reason with the King, David refused to discuss the issue. “I have made up my mind,” he said, “and I shall abdicate in favour of my brother, the Duke of York, and I mean to go and acquaint my mother this evening and my family. Please don’t mention my decision to two or three trusted Privy Councillors until I give you permission.”10 David asked Baldwin if he might seek the advice of Hoare and Cooper, and the prime minister agreed. Baldwin returned to No. 10 Downing Street that evening, greatly shaken. He told his chief whip, Capt. David Margesson, “I have heard such things from my King tonight as I never thought to hear.”11
Although David had told Baldwin that his decision had been made, it is also possible that he was simply testing the waters to determine what the prime minister’s reaction would be to both a proposed marriage and an eventual abdication. Over the next three weeks, David would himself propose or investigate a number of options to abdication, so it is unlikely that he had come to a final decision on November 16. He knew, however, that there existed the distinct possibility that his dramatic threat would be forced into action.
From Buckingham Palace, David went to Marlborough House to dine with his mother. He found his sister Mary, the Princess Royal, already there, along with his brother Harry’s wife, Alice, Duchess of Gloucester. “He was in a great state of agitation,” Alice recalled, “and asked his mother if I could leave the room as he had a very serious family matter to discuss. Queen Mary was discernibly angered by this request, but with many apologies she asked me to go, which of course I did.”12
Queen Mary led her eldest son and only daughter to her boudoir. There David informed his mother and sister that he intended to marry Wallis. He asked Queen Mary to receive her, but she refused. When he inquired why, Queen Mary replied, “Because she is an adventuress!”13
Of course, Wallis was far from being an adventuress. Queen Mary’s strong, if understandable, condemnation rested on the false belief that Mrs. Simpson was actively campaigning to marry the King. The Queen made assumptions based on misinformation from court and political circles and the gossip she heard. It was unfortunate that she was prepared to believe the worst about the woman her son loved rather than listen to his version with an open mind.
“To my mother,” David later wrote, “the Monarchy was something sacred and the Sovereign a personage apart. The word ‘duty’ fell between us. But there could be no question of my shirking my duty.”14 The Queen felt that her son had but two choices: marry Wallis and leave the country or not marry her and remain as King. Lady Airlie later admitted that her mistress believed strongly that her eldest son had absolutely no right to conduct a private life of his own choosing.15 To the Queen, love for the throne came first; her feelings for her children, second. The majority of her life had been spent sacrificing personal desire for the sake of public duty. Her world was one of dignity and tradition; love was a personal emotion, completely separate from a royal marriage. She had been raised in a world in which one married for duty first; love, if it also existed, was to be appreciated, but the idea of disregarding one’s sacred obligations for the sake of a frail human emotion was anathema to the elderly Queen. She could not even bring herself to consider such a union as her son now proposed; it was simply beyond her comprehension.
The Queen and her children were all aware not only of the King’s relationship with Wallis but also of the threatening crisis. Queen Mary had discussed the situation with members of her own household, with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and with several members of the cabinet as well, urging them to take action to halt the Simpson divorce. But she had deliberately avoided the subject with the one person who most mattered: her eldest son. All her life, the Queen had found personal discussions and intimate talk difficult. Having erected an impenetrable wall around her emotions, she could not bring herself to abandon her reserve and speak frankly with David. She simply waited in silence, assuming, in the words of Michael Bloch, an “attitude of martyrdom,” and hoped that somehow he might lose interest in his mistress.16
Nor did David feel able to confide his feelings to his family. All his life, he had been raised to suppress his emotions; his parents had trained him to avoid unpleasant subjects. Now, when he most needed his family as trusted confidants and advisers, he could only state his case and stubbornly declare that he had made up his mind.
David left Marlborough House knowing that he had failed to win his mother over. But he had certainly made an impression on her. “Really! This might be Romania!” she exclaimed in disgust.17 And, on the following day, November 17, Queen Mary received the prime minister. As he entered her rooms, she greeted him with her hands held out in a gesture of despair and said, “Well, Mr. Baldwin, this is a pretty kettle of fish!”18
On November 17, David met with both Sir Samuel Hoare, First Lord of the Admiralty, and with Duff Cooper, secretary of state for war, at Buckingham Palace. Neither consultation went well. Hoare warned that Baldwin held control of the situation and that most members of the government seemed to support him. If the King pressed his cause, Hoare declared, he was likely to lose.19
The meeting with Cooper scarcely went better. David began the talk by declaring that he could not continue to reign unless he married Wallis. Cooper warned that if the King abdicated, all blame for such an action would fall squarely on Wallis. He advised that the King wait. “I also secretly thought that he might in the interval meet somebody whom he would love more,” Cooper later wrote.20
That evening, David met with his brother the Duke of York. Like Queen Mary, the Duke had known of the serious nature of his brother’s relationship. Disgruntled courtiers had for some time been secretly advising Bertie on the state of affairs, meeting with him behind the King’s back at his London house, No. 145 Piccadilly. Alexander Hardinge, in particular, had spoken with the Duke about the King’s relationship with Mrs. Simpson and a possible abdication several times, first on October 10 and then again on October 28, the day following the divorce hearing at Ipswich, when the Yorks dined with the King’s private secretary and his wife.21
David told his brother that he had discussed the situation with Baldwin the previous evening. “It looks to me now, the way things are shaping up, that I shall probably have to go,” he said.
“Oh, that’s a dreadful thing to hear,” the Duke replied. “None of us wants that, I least of all.”
“I’m afraid,” David said, “there’s no other way. My mind is made up.”22 The King had indeed made up his mind: he would win the fight in his own way, or he would go.
Wallis, meanwhile, had only managed to see David briefly. He told her that the prime minister had approved his plan to seek the advice of certain members of the cabinet. But when she tried to question him, he told her, “I must work things out in my own way.”23
While David was speaking with his brother, Wallis attended a dinner party given by Emerald Cunard. Prince and Princess Paul of Yugoslavia were also present. Chips Channon noted that Wallis “looked very well tonight, like a Vermeer, in a Dutch way. The conversation got on to tiaras, and Princess Olga said hers gave her a headache. Wallis Simpson laughingly added, ‘Well, anyway, a tiara is one of the things I shall never have . . . .’ There was an embarrassed pause. . . .”24
In the midst of these developments, the King made a scheduled journey to Wales to inspect impoverished mining towns. Increased oil consumption had resulted in mining layoffs and shutdowns, leaving the area economically depressed. David was startled at the poverty he saw. When he met one young man who said that he had never been able to find work, all David could say was a muttered “Terrible, terrible....” A group of unemployed miners handed the King a letter: “This is a stricken valley. Slighted by the dead hand of poverty.... Our women grow prematurely old.... Our children are stunted.... Will an impoverished people be able to joyfully celebrate Your Majesty’s Coronation?”25 Touring the stricken households, seeing the grim faces and sad eyes, David was deeply moved. Spontaneously, he declared, “Something must be done to find them work.”26
The King’s offhand remarks made headlines the following day, spurring the government into action. The chancellor of the exchequer, Neville Chamberlain, ordered a new study on mining conditions and proposals to grant additional government funding to relieve the hardships of unemployment. Labour MPs in the House of Commons asked for quick legislation to attract new industrial development to South Wales. The News Chronicle declared: “The King is above and outside politics. What he has done is in the sole interest of truth and public service.... The man in the street feels that Whitehall stands condemned. . . .” 27
But Baldwin feared political consequences. There was talk that the King had overstepped his bounds. Many Conservative politicians felt that the King had simply been trying to score popularity at the expense of the ruling government, and resentment against him continued to grow.
The visit to South Wales, however, had once again demonstrated in the most visible way possible the King’s popularity with the working classes. This enthusiastic reception and support convinced him, it seems, that his case was not completely lost where Wallis was concerned. Whereas he had previously discussed abdication as being a necessary adjunct to a marriage with Wallis, after the Wales visit he seemed determined to marry her and retain the throne.
On November 19, the day he returned from Wales, David met with his brother. The change in his course of action soon became evident when he told George that he planned to marry Wallis.
The Duke was startled at this piece of news and stammered. “What will she call herself?”
“Call herself?” David asked. “What do you think—Queen of England of course.”
“She is going to be Queen?” George asked incredulously.
“Yes, and Empress of India, the whole bag of tricks.”28
19
The Morganatic Marriage Proposal
WHILE THE KING WAS AWAY on his tour of South Wales, Esmond Harmsworth asked Wallis to join him at Claridge’s for lunch.1 During the course of the afternoon, Harmsworth suggested that Wallis ask the King about the possibility of a morganatic marriage. Such a union, he explained, would allow the King to marry her, but she would not become queen. This, he believed, might end the rumblings in the government. “I realize, Wallis, that all this is not very flattering to you,” he acknowledged. “But I am sure that you are one with us in desiring to keep the King on the Throne.” He even suggested a possible title should she marry the King: Duchess of Lancaster, from one of the King’s lesser titles.2
At first, Wallis had her doubts about a morganatic marriage. She felt that such a marriage would leave her in a peculiarly ambiguous position: not quite queen and yet undeniably the wife of the king. As she began to carefully consider the proposal, however, it seemed to offer a way out of a situation which was growing more impossible by the day.
Her feelings for David were deep and genuine. She had made her decision to remain at his side, no matter the consequences, trusting his assurances that he would somehow manage to work things out. At the same time, Wallis was increasingly aware of the obstacles facing any union. She remained utterly ignorant of the strength of feelings against the marriage, believing that the decision rested solely with certain members of the court and society. Nevertheless, she thought that such prejudice as existed was directed only at her assumption of the position of queen. As a twice-divorced American, even Wallis had to admit that her credentials for the post were doubtful. A morganatic marriage seemed to offer a hopeful solution to such opposition.
The idea of such a marriage also offered its own benefits. As the King’s wife, she would become chatelaine of Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, Sandringham House, Holyrood House, and Balmoral Castle; she would be responsible for acting as official hostess; she would holiday with David, enjoy the luxuries of the life he lived as monarch, and be treated with the greatest of respect. Moreover, she knew that a morganatic marriage also offered a degree of freedom which would have been impossible for the Queen. As a morganatic wife, her role would be largely private. She would not have to undertake public duties or even appear at the side of the King during official functions. To Wallis, never having been raised to live her life in the public eye and unaccustomed to the idea of royal duties, this aspect appealed greatly. She would have the King, the power and position of his wife, and the benefits of life as a royal, all without the encumbering obligations of service which went with the rank of Queen.
