The Peoples King (16 page)

The Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, decided to see whether there
was anything concrete underneath all the rumours of a possible mar­riage. On 14 October he sought an interview with the King, hoping
to discover some information, one way or the other. But to his dis­appointment, the King chose not to raise the subject of Mrs Simpson
at all. The next day, matters came to a head. Hardinge was telephoned
by the Press Association with the news that Wallis Simpson was suing
for divorce. The case was set down for trial on 27 October at Ipswich
Assizes - 'Of all places!' sneered Sir John Simon, the Home Secretary,
when he heard.
³⁴
Until 1920, all actions had been heard before the
High Court in London; but then, over the protests of the London
lawyers, it was agreed that 'poor persons' and undefended actions
could be heard in certain assize towns, which reduced the costs of a
divorce. To Simon, therefore, Ipswich was horribly vulgar. But the
lists in London were full for a year or more, and Mrs Simpson and the
King were anxious to have the matter dealt with before the coronation,
which was set for the following June.
³⁵
And Ipswich was away from
London and seemed more discreet.

Hardinge immediately contacted the Prime Minister, urging him to
see the King and to arrange for the divorce proceedings to be stopped.
The danger in which they placed the King, he believed, 'was becoming
every day greater ... it was clear that once
Mrs
Simpson was in a
position to marry the King, grave constitutional - and not only moral
-
issues might only too easily arise.' He added, 'there was little doubt
what the opinion of the people would be, once they were allowed to
know the facts.'
³⁶
Given the narrow circle in which the Hardinge
family moved, however, it would have been difficult for him to estimate
'the opinion of the people'.

The Prime Minister met for discussions with Hardinge and his wife,

Helen, on 17 October. Remarkably, he was fired up with energy to
deal with the crisis. Over the summer and early autumn he had been
forced by exhaustion to take three months of rest; and on returning
to Westminster, he confessed to a friend that he was 'not yet sure
whether he could stand the strain of heavy Parliamentary work.'
³⁷
But
now he was somehow revived by this new challenge. He took it upon
himself to ask the King for an audience. This time he planned to ask
the King directly about Mrs Simpson and the implications of her
divorce. Charles Lambe, driving to Sandringham on 18 October,
found on his arrival an urgent telephone message from Baldwin for
the King. Lambe had no idea why Baldwin was so eager to see Edward,
but discovered the reason next day: 'Next morning, after breakfast,
Tommy Lascelles [a courtier] said, "Isn't this Ipswich business fright­ful." That was the first I knew. He then told me that it was on account
of the divorce that the PM wanted to see the King.'
³⁸

The Prime Minister and the King finally met at Fort Belvedere at
ten o'clock on the morning of Tuesday zo October. They repaired to
the octagonal drawing room and sat in front of the fire. Baldwin was
apparently at his ease, but he betrayed some anxiety when he asked
for a whisky and soda. When the butler had brought a tray for him,
wrote Edward in his memoir,

Mr Baldwin rose and, picking up the decanter and a glass, looked inquiringly
at me, asking, 'Sir, when?'

As gravely as I could, I hoped even severely, I answered, 'No, thank you,
Mr Baldwin; I never take a drink before seven o'clock in the evening.'

The Prime Minister seemed to give a slight start, then went ahead and
poured his own drink.
³⁹

They spoke for an hour. Baldwin outlined his concerns about the
King's friendship with Wallis and about the stories in the American
and Canadian press. If they were to continue, he said, this might
endanger the position of the monarchy. He finally moved to the heart
of the matter: Wallis's divorce petition. 'Sir, must the case really go
on?' asked Baldwin. Edward wrote later that he brushed the question
aside. He had no right, he said firmly, to interfere in the affairs
of another individual, simply because she was a friend of the King.
⁴⁰
Baldwin was consulting a number of people on the royal matter,
including Geoffrey Dawson, the editor of
The Times.
'As for the
Government the Prime Minister probably saw a great deal more of
me at this time than he did of any other journalist', Dawson admitted,
but added in his defence that this 'was due rather to an old friendship
and habit of discussion than to the slightest desire to influence me. He
never in fact told me any secrets, nor did I ask for them.'
⁴¹
Other men
with whom the Prime Minister spoke included elder statesmen and
civil-service mandarins. On 21 October, Baldwin met 'on this business'
with Sir Horace Wilson, who was his economic adviser (later to
become Neville Chamberlain's chief confidant during the appeasement
period, and Head of the Civil Service in 1939).
⁴²

On 26 October, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Cosmo Gordon
Lang, called on Alexander Hardinge to discuss the royal crisis. So did
Geoffrey Dawson. 'My husband was grateful to Mr Dawson for
calling,' wrote Mrs Hardinge, 'for it provided him with a rare
opportunity to confide in an outsider whose discretion he trusted.'
⁴³
These men inhabited a narrow world, with their own exclusive meet­ing-places. Dawson, the Archbishop, Lord Halifax and Lord Simon
were all Fellows of All Souls College, Oxford. They also met at Hatfield
House in Hertfordshire, the seat of the influential Cecil family and
home of the current Lord Salisbury. The Hardinges were often at
Hatfield, because Helen Hardinge was the daughter of Lord Edward
Cecil (and therefore a granddaughter of Lord Salisbury, the Conserva­tive Prime Minister of the Victorian era). Cosmo Lang met with the
Prime Minister at Hatfield on 1 November.

The Archbishop viewed the idea of Edward marrying Wallis with
horror. How could he crown a king who was married to a woman
twice divorced, with both ex-husbands still living? It was bad enough,
as he wrote in a note to Buckingham Palace shortly after George V's
death, that Edward 'knows little, and, I fear, cares little, about the
Church and its affairs'.
⁴⁴
In a diary he kept in 1936, Archbishop Lang
recorded that 'as the months passed . . . the thought of my having to
consecrate
him
as King weighed on me as a heavy burden. Indeed, I
considered whether I could bring myself to do so.' His only comfort
was a presentiment that the decision would be taken out of his hands:
'But I had a
sense
that circumstances might change. I could only pray
that they might, either outwardly or in his own soul.'
⁴⁵
For now,
though, he was uncertain how to proceed. A particular difficulty for
him was that an evangelistic campaign was being planned for 1937, in
association with the coronation. This campaign, 'A Recall to Religion',
was going to urge the people of Britain to dedicate themselves to the
service of God and their country.
⁴⁶
The 'recall' was felt to be necessary
because of the dwindling membership of the Church of England.

Most citizens of Britain at this time were Christian in background:
Church of England, Roman Catholic or Nonconformist. But religious
faith was losing its hold. One important reason was the brutality of
the Great War, and the sight of bishops and priests blessing guns
and tanks. Ecclesiastical anathemas counted for much less, noted the
historian John Grigg, than those who pronounced them liked to
believe.
⁴
Many ordinary people were not bothered, for example, that
their King did not attend church. 'It is said you are entirely indifferent
to the public practice of religion', wrote one of Edward's subjects
living near Worcester, who was a Christian. But he added, 'I don't
think that matters. What does is that you do many Christian acts. You
love your fellow man and therefore love God.'
⁴⁸
The King 'is a real
Christian,' wrote one middle-aged Scottish woman, 'following Christ
in deeds not words, helping his Brother Man, visiting the poor, looking
after those in lowly walks in life.'
⁴⁹
Many took a dim view of 'Bishops
and old Church Law & Phraseology which no man worries about
these days, being too busy trying to keep the wolf from the door.'
⁵⁰
A
contrast was drawn between Christianity and 'Churchianity - which
is not true Christianity',
⁵¹
and few people had patience with 'muddling
ministers and pompous parsons'.
⁵²

Nonetheless, the Church of England was still a force to be reckoned
with, because it was the established church. In Wales, a massive
Nonconformist campaign had brought about the disestablishment of
the Anglican Church in the principality in 192.0. But in England,
nothing had changed. The Prime Minister had the ultimate say in
the selection of bishops and the appointment of the Archbishop of
Canterbury. Parliament was opened with prayers, and the Cup Final
was introduced by the mass singing of the hymn 'Abide with Me'.
Twenty-six Anglican bishops sat in the House of Lords, and Anglican
dignitaries officiated at just about every important state occasion.
Against this background, the growing lack of religious faith among
ordinary people had little impact on the role of the Church in the life
of the nation.

It was reasonable enough, once Wallis's divorce suit was announced,
to assume that Edward was thinking of marriage. For, as Hilda Runciman pointed out, 'there seemed no adequate reason for the disadvant­age of the divorce scandal unless marriage was intended'.
⁵³
Only once
before had Edward wanted to marry. In France in 1917 he had fallen
in love with a Red Cross nurse, Rosemary Millicent Leveson-Gower,
who was the daughter of the Duke of Sutherland. Although she was
charming and beautiful, with very blonde hair and blue eyes, Edward
was most struck by her compassion for soldiers suffering from shell-
shock. In February 1918, when they were both in England, he asked
Lady Rosemary to marry him - and despite some initial hesitation she
agreed. But the marriage was forbidden by Edward's father, George
V. He felt it would not be suitable because Lady Rosemary's mother
was separated from her second husband (her first husband had died),
and her brother, the Earl of Rosslyn, had been twice divorced, twice
bankrupt, and was a heavy drinker.
⁵⁴