The scale of the floating cellar was impressive, even for a six-month voyage for the Duke’s party often. There were more than sixty cases of vintage champagne from various suppliers, fifty-eight cases of the Duke’s favourite whisky, Buchanan’s, twelve cases of brandy from Justerini and Brooks, twelve cases of Gordon’s gin, French and Italian Vermouth, forty cases of port and eighteen cases of sherry, as well as over thirty cases of claret.12 The Duke and Duchess liked cocktails before lunch and dinner and often drank champagne throughout the meal. (In 1931, when they made an official visit to Paris, this had to be explained to their bemused hosts.) Bulgarian cigarettes were provided by the navy. The Duke enjoyed smoking.
The Duke and Duchess could not have realized the extent to which the tour was to plunge them into the limelight across the Empire as never before. It would do a great deal to develop their sense of their own public personalities. This was one of the first royal tours to be organized along modern lines with the interests of the media taken (at least partly) into account. There was an official photographer, W. J. Fair, and two movie cameramen were assigned to the tour. An official film was produced by the Commonwealth government of Australia and distributed by the European Motion Picture Company. A similar film was produced in New Zealand. Hundreds of thousands of people all over the world could thus share in the royal progress. Nor was the written word neglected. There was a writer in residence aboard Renown – an Australian journalist, Taylor Darbyshire, who produced a book of the voyage.
The King had appointed the Earl of Cavan* as chief of staff for the tour. Cavan had commanded the Guards Brigade and then the Guards Division during the war and had served as Chief of the Imperial General Staff from 1922 to 1926. His wife Joan was asked to be one of the Duchess’s two ladies in waiting. Lord Cavan had rather a formal manner, and neither Duke nor Duchess was immediately drawn to him, but he represented them well, often in unseen ways.
Cavan’s task was to see that everything ran as smoothly as possible and that all the protocols and formalities demanded by the King, an exacting if distant supervisor of the tour, were met. The King was especially insistent that the Duke and Duchess should wear the correct dress for every different occasion. He sent frequent instructions, advice and complaints by coded telegram. (Fortunately, letters to and from London took weeks, sometimes more than a month, to arrive, which tended to diminish the urgency of some strictures.)
The Duchess’s other lady in waiting, Victoria Gilmour,* was quite another matter. Known as Tortor, she proved to be a delightful companion and became a close and lifelong friend of the Duchess. Patrick Hodgson, the Duke’s Private Secretary, described her in a letter to Queen Mary, ‘Mrs Gilmour is also much liked and keeps us all amused. She is perhaps a little vague at times and has the most wonderful way of losing her own possessions which invariably are found in the one place “where she knows she never put them!” But these trifles are more than compensated for by her keenness and her companionship to the Duchess.’13 Two equerries, Colin Buist and a newcomer, Major Terence Nugent,† were also in the party, and the Duke was allotted a political secretary for the tour, Harry Batterbee,‡ as the official representative of the British government. The party’s health was in the hands of Surgeon Commander H. E. Y. White, a physician who was to show his worth.
On the voyage out they went the Atlantic route, via Las Palmas, Jamaica and then through the Panama Canal to the Pacific. The weather was at first quite disagreeable – there was a storm off Ushant and after the first night aboard the Duchess wrote in her diary, ‘Hardly slept at all last night, and kept on jumping up to put things away. Even the big gramophone fell over.’14 The Duchess proved to be a hardier sailor than some of the others. She wrote to D’Arcy Osborne that the ship was ‘very beautiful in a clean large way’ and the food was quite good. She begged him to write to her. ‘I already feel cut off.’15
As the weather improved both Duke and Duchess made themselves popular with all ranks on board. The Duke made casual visits to the wardroom to talk to the senior officers, which pleased them. They dined with the junior officers in the gunroom and played charades and nursery games and danced the tango and Charleston with some of the midshipmen. The Duchess had time to rest and read and talk – and above all to miss her daughter. ‘Felt depressed – I miss the baby all the time, & am always wondering what she is doing,’ she noted in her diary.16 This was a constant, if private, agony for her through the entire voyage. There were diversions – clay-pigeon shooting from the deck, the ship’s rifle range and squash court. Every Sunday there was a church service on board, at which the Duchess enjoyed the hearty singing of the crew.
On Monday 10 January they anchored off the Canary Islands in warm weather, but there was a heavy swell. Spanish officials in Las Palmas were supposed to come aboard but declined, saying that the sea was too rough. The Duke and Duchess were more adventurous. Indeed, the Duchess impressed all on board with her disdain for the waves. Lord Cavan wrote to the King that with ‘gazelle-like agility’ she managed to get aboard the barge to be taken ashore. It was hard to recognize the National Anthem as played by a local band. The British Consul and his wife were somewhat eccentric – he was very deaf and appeared very old while she, according to Lord Cavan, had ‘steadfastly refused to change her fashion of clothing – so I am told – since the age of small waists, large sleeves & a bustle!’17
The next day Renown set sail for Jamaica. The first and relatively easy stage of the trip had gone well. But the criticism from the King had already begun. A telegram arrived from Clive Wigram, the King’s Assistant Private Secretary, warning Cavan that the King objected to some of the press coverage of the tour. Cavan responded robustly, saying that the telegram had caused ‘some little disturbance’. No offensive articles could have come from the journalists aboard because he personally vetted all messages they sent. Whatever caused upset in London ‘must therefore have come from some source for which I am not & obviously cannot be responsible’.18
The King evidently complained also about descriptions of the Duchess’s clothing because Cavan insisted, ‘As regards “descriptions of clothing” Her Royal Highness’s departure frock from London & landing frock at Las Palmas are all that have been passed by me – & I may observe that if the authorized Pressmen are not to send this information, the uncensored Press of every place of landing most certainly will. However our three men will not mention the dresses worn except at official functions & this the public absolutely demand.’19
Lord Cavan understood that strictures from the King could be very demoralizing for the young, nervous Duke and Duchess, for he wrote to Wigram:
Very Private …
This is not for HM eyes! I think you & I must realize that T.R.H. are both sensitive, frightfully anxious to do well & therefore they feel it more acutely than old warriors like myself, if the very first telegram from Home is couched in a critical vein. If H.M. by any chance ever does say an approving word, it wd work wonders, if a very short encouraging telegram cd be sent especially before the difficult & arduous work in Australia.
All is really going very well but T.R.H. get plunged into depths of woe if their efforts are misconstrued.
At Las Palmas none but British subjects wd have even attempted a landing. The Spanish Governors Civil & Military & Mayor made no effort to come on board! & so we most carefully said ‘By mutual arrangement the international courtesies were exchanged ashore’ – tho’ it is obvious that our people went through all the dangers & difficulties.
A word of recognition of this really plucky effort is the sort of ‘encouragement’ that I refer to.20
Cavan’s plea evidently paid off – some weeks later. On 21 February, after they had arrived at Auckland, he wrote to Wigram: ‘I cannot thank you enough for His Majesty’s splendidly timed message of encouragement just before arrival at Auckland.’ His letter crossed with one to him from Wigram saying that he hoped Their Majesties’ message to the Duke and Duchess on arrival acted as ‘a good pi
ck-me-up’.21
On 20 January, when the Duke and Duchess landed at Kingston, the streets were lined with cheering people. The next three days provided the Duchess with her first glimpse of what a fully fledged tour could involve. At an evening reception, Lord Cavan told the Palace, more than a thousand guests ‘of all hues’ passed before Their Royal Highnesses. Although the Governor of Jamaica and Lord Cavan considered that it was unnecessary for them to venture beyond Kingston, the Duke and Duchess decided otherwise. On the second day of their three-day tour they visited the cathedral at Spanish Town and then went to a garden party in the centre of the island. People were delighted; this was the first time, they were told, that any member of the Royal Family had visited the interior. Cavan reported to the King that ‘The Duchess is looking so fresh and well.’22 Back at the King’s House in Kingston the Duke’s enthusiasm for tennis was useful; he played a doubles match in which he partnered a Jamaican ‘of colour’, one of the best players in the island, thus acknowledging equality among sportsmen and giving great satisfaction locally.23
This first short visit confirmed what was in little doubt: that the appeal of the Duchess’s personality worked as well abroad as at home, and that it would contribute greatly to the success of the tour. Lord Cavan sent the King an editorial from the Daily Gleaner of Kingston, describing how she ‘smiled her way into the hearts of the people … her kindly glances, the sweetness of her manner, her whole attitude of gracious charm have won for her a love which must last as long as those who have seen her shall live.’24 The power of her smile became a leitmotif of the entire voyage. Praise of this kind was to be lavished on her throughout the many decades to come.
From Jamaica they began to sail into the heat. Cabin temperatures rose to an almost unbearable 86 degrees and they took to sleeping on deck. Their destination was one of the modern wonders of the world, the Panama Canal, carved through the isthmus only just as the First World War began, linking Atlantic and Pacific oceans for the first time. Many of the labourers on the Canal were British subjects from the West Indies who welcomed the couple warmly.25
The Duchess was intrigued by the extraordinary workings of the Canal. She watched as the ships were dragged into the locks by the ‘mules’ – little electric tractors on rails – and then rose or fell as vast amounts of water were pumped in or out of the locks. From Panama she wrote to the Prince of Wales. Her letters to him were affectionate, frank and humorous, not unlike those she wrote to her brothers. She teased him for being a ‘naughty little wicked little Empire builder. You are also an Empire destroyer too, as in my daily radio news I read that the Prince of Wales helped to finish off the old Empire – promenade & all.’26* She told him of an archly flirtatious encounter with the President of Panama: ‘I have got off with the President here which was rather hot making. We had some interesting conversations with him … The language of the eye I had to fall back on, and gee he fell too.’27 The Duke’s account to his father of the same episode was more restrained: ‘the President of Panama came on board. He was not very exciting & spoke very little English.’28
As they steamed through the Canal the Panamanian press was enchanted by the Duchess. Indeed the King complained again – this time directly to his son – that the newspapers were publishing ‘all sorts of stuff which we thought twaddle … such as what clothes Elizabeth wore’.29 This type of reportage, however, gives a vivid picture of the impression they made. One description stands out: ‘On the upper after deck stood a slight, slender English boy, dressed in the white uniform of a captain of the English Navy … Beside him was a sweet, pretty, charming young woman gowned in a fetching morning gown of pale lavender and carrying a white silk parasol. The man raised his hand to his helmet in a salute, and the little woman waved her handkerchief in goodbye. These two personages were the Duke and Duchess of York.’30
Great crowds waited for them as they went through the locks at Pedro Miguel. The local newspaper reported that ‘a young Britisher, resident on the isthmus, waved his hat and shouted to Her Royal Highness, “How’s the baby?” ’ At which ‘the Duchess leaned over the railing and replied “Baby’s fine.” ’31 In fact she was increasingly miserable about Princess Elizabeth; they both found the terse telegrams from Alah – ‘ALL RIGHT KNIGHT’ – inadequate. Dr Still had dispatched his first report but, of course, it was still afloat on the ocean, with weeks to go before it was delivered.† From Panama the Duchess telegraphed home, ‘No message arrived. Please send news at once.’32
As they crossed the Pacific both the Duke and the Duchess seemed to dread the exhaustion that lay ahead. The Duke wrote to his brother complaining about the length and monotony of the voyage, and confessed that he had been feeling very depressed.33 They felt cut off from home; all the news they had was from the regular wireless bulletin ‘which only mentions China and football results’, the Duchess told the Queen in early February. She fretted at the thought that her child might become unwell. ‘I do hope you like having the Baby, and that she continues to be well and happy, and no colds … I miss her quite terribly, and the five weeks we have been away seem like five months.’34
The Queen wrote to tell them that she had heard that Princess Elizabeth had ‘cut her first tooth which is good’, news which could only emphasize all that they were missing. Queen Mary also complained that Dr Still had prevented Princess Elizabeth from visiting them at Sandringham because she had eye trouble and was teething: ‘this was a great disappointment to us but of course we agreed. As a matter of fact the weather here has been & is so much better than anywhere else that I think the fine air wld have done the child good.’35 As soon as the King and Queen returned from Sandringham to London, the little Princess arrived to stay at Buckingham Palace. Queen Mary wrote: ‘she is looking too sweet & seems happy in her new surroundings, she was delighted with the parrot Charlotte this morning at breakfast & watched the bird eating pips with an air of absorption. How nice “Alla” is & baby is turned out too beautifully.’36
The King wrote kindly about the Princess as well, but he was unable to resist making criticisms of his son’s appearance or sense of protocol when he saw fit. He had studied the press photographs of them in Las Palmas and wrote to the Duke, ‘I send you a picture of you inspecting Gd. of Honour (I don’t think much of their dressing) with yr. Equerry walking on yr. right next to the Gd. & you ignoring the Officer entirely. Yr. Equerry should be outside & behind, it certainly doesn’t look well.’ When the Duke eventually received this complaint at the other side of the world, he replied good-naturedly that he had noticed the same thing ‘& I can explain it easily. I had just finished inspecting the guard of honour and was walking back to join Elizabeth. Buist was taking a message from me. It was an unfortunate moment for the photograph to be taken.’37
They spent a fortnight at sea, steaming south and west and when they reached the equator they both went through the traditional Crossing the Line Ceremony, with all due deference to King Neptune’s domain. The Duchess was presented with the Order of the Golden Mermaid by a member of the ship’s crew dressed as Queen Amphitrite.
They were much in demand on that empty ocean – even the French population of Tahiti were hoping that Renown would call upon them. Instead they spent two days on the island of Nuka Hiva, in the French Marquises, Gauguin’s earthly paradise. It was a simple place; only about four ships a year called there. They found it a delight to leave the ship to walk, to fish and to bathe. One evening the islanders danced for them. The Duchess’s reaction was perceptive, if romantic; she wrote to Queen Mary that ‘it was really most remarkable, and very interesting. They are brown and the men quite nice-looking, but very diseased and are rapidly dying out. Instead of being strong healthy cannibals with strange religions and no clothes, they are now weakly half hearted Roman Catholics with European clothes. It seems all wrong, but that is what happens.’38
The Duke and Duchess were by now fully able to enjoy the banter of shipboard life; she took pleasure in the dancing on the quart
erdeck – finding the midshipmen especially light on their feet. Patrick Hodgson, who had originally had some misgivings about whether the Duchess had understood the importance of the tour, was by now completely won over, writing to Queen Mary, ‘I now feel I was mistaken and that she is alive to all that is involved.’39 Lord Cavan felt the same.40 They came to Fiji, which was then governed through the Dominion of New Zealand, on 17 February. They landed at Suva, where they presented walking sticks to the tribal chiefs, but the traditional dances of welcome could not take place because of an outbreak of measles. The heat was too intense for midday appointments but they made a late-afternoon drive upcountry to Rewa, visited the War Memorial Hospital and made a trip around the harbour in one of Renown’s launches.
The civic welcome was followed by a dinner and ball at the Governor’s House. The Fiji Times recorded the impression the Duchess made: she looked ‘radiant. She wore a lovely gown of ivory georgette heavily beaded, with a green rose on one side. She had a white tulle scarf, and carried a beautiful shaded pink feather fan. Her silver shoes had the heels studded with brilliants. She wore a charming diamond tiara and a valuable pearl necklace adorned her neck.’ The report of the ball was enlivened by an episode that conveyed both her sense of fun and her presence of mind, and contributed to a new image of the Royal Family. ‘When all the guests had shaken hands, a lone dog, which had managed to get into the ballroom, quietly trotted up to Her Royal Highness and held up its paw. The Duchess smilingly shook hands and patted doggy on the head. Apparently perfectly satisfied, the dog followed precedent and quietly passed out of the hall.’41
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