The Duchess of Windsor

  The plan was that the Duke and Duchess should next go to the United States for a similar tour. It had been their mysterious host at Candé who had suggested they should go to Germany, but no practical help was needed from him because the Germans were pleased to show their successful projects to foreign notabilities. In America, however, Charles Bedaux himself arranged for the Duke to see low-cost housing and industrial installations. The Duchess in particular was delighted at the idea of going home to America; they were invited to the White House and the British Ambassador was to give a dinner party for them on their arrival in Washington.

  They had no idea that, because of the way he had made his fortune, (a system he had devised for speeding up work in factories, rightly considered ‘inhuman’), Mr Bedaux was the bête noire of organized labour in the United States. They soon found out. The whole trip was cancelled, a great disappointment to the Duchess. Perhaps it was just as well, for the mere idea of the visit had caused concern in England. As the British Ambassador, Sir Ronald Lindsay, explained to Undersecretary of State Sumner Welles:

  The Ambassador… had found on the part of all the governing class in England a very vehement feeling of indignation against the course of the Duke of Windsor, based in part on the resentment created by his relinquishment of his responsibilities and in even greater part due to the apparent unfairness of his present attitude with regard to his brother, the King. The Ambassador said that in Court circles and in the Foreign Office and on the part of the heads of political parties, this feeling bordered on the stage of hysteria.

  When the stage of hysteria is reached there is little to be done, reason flies out of the window. What is interesting looking back is that these brothers, the Duke of Windsor and King George VI, formerly devoted to one another, each felt that the other was being ‘unfair.’ Perhaps they were both right. The King had been landed with a task he did not want, and he felt the least the Duke could do would be to leave him alone to get on with it in his own way. The Duke, as he had written twenty years before to Lord Stamfordham, was only trained to do the job of a royal prince, which he must have known he did supremely well. That was the trouble.

  It is a curious fact that it was the very people who had tended to be critical of Edward VIII as Prince of Wales and as King, the stuffiest part of the establishment, who were indignant because of his ‘relinquishment of his responsibilities.’ Since they now had an ideal King and Queen it is hard to understand their ‘vehement feeling of indignation.’ The Ambassador rightly stressed the fact that it was the ‘governing class’, and doubtless he might have added the Churches to his list.

  Notes

  15 In a letter to the author.

  16 In conversation with the author.

  17 The author, who saw Hitler from time to time, cannot remember hearing him mention the Duke or the Duchess of Windsor. More than once he said that England was fortunate to have ‘these kleine Prinzessin.’ He had seen Princess Elizabeth, then aged about ten, on cinema news-reels, and considered she was ‘ein fabelhaftes Kind’, a marvellous child.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  War

  ‘Let there be light!’ said God, and there was light.

  ‘Let there be blood.’ says man, and there’s a sea.

  Byron

  THE WINDSORS MOVED into La Croë, a large white house with green shutters near the sea at Cap d’Antibes, in the summer of 1938. They both liked the house, and it was there that real happiness began for them. As it was only partly furnished they brought many of their belongings from England, and with the Duke’s treasures from the Fort round them they began to feel at home. The Duchess put her grandmother’s rocking chair from Baltimore in her bedroom.

  They needed more servants than at the Hôtel Meurice, who were engaged for them in England. The Duchess was superstitious, she loved lucky charms and dreaded evil omens. One very pretty girl who was taken on at that time had a strong impression that part of the reason she got the job was because of her fair colouring. The Duchess wanted only blonde people round her; she thought they brought her luck. She was a good employer, generous and well-liked by her household, but she was a perfectionist. She kept a little book near her to make notes about any imperfections, and she used it freely. She had inherited from her mother a love of good food, and in France she had come to understand the importance of wine. She said she wanted the Duke to live like a king, and so he did. They both ate very little and when they were alone the food was plain, grilled lean meat, salad and fruit. They were keen weight-watchers.

  The Duchess had unerring taste in clothes and in jewellery. The Duke loved giving her jewellery, and he became quite an expert. M. Jacques Cartier was once heard to say: ‘Son Altesse Royal knows more about diamonds than I do!’ A hairdresser did her hair every day. This determination always to look her best, never to allow her very high standard to fall, continued for the rest of her life. (Forty years after this, at the age of eighty, she still had her fine skin; there were no wrinkles, no crows feet round her dark blue eyes, astonishing in someone so thin.) She took no exercise, she was a worrier, plagued by intermittent duodenal ulcers, and she slept badly, but she kept all this to herself. The Duke, on the other hand, slept well and played golf whenever he could, keeping himself fit. At La Croë the Duchess seemed to have regained all her old gaiety, living for the day. She had always been an avid reader of papers and magazines, now she read biographies and histories at night when she could not sleep.

  The Château de la Croë at Cap d’Antibes, leased by the Duke and Duchess in 1938.

  Cecil Beaton’s photograph of Wallis, 1938.

  They entertained friends at La Croë, giving dinner parties and going out to houses along the coast. One of their guests, Prince Jean-Louis de Lucinge, remembers seeing on the hall table the Duke’s programme for the day. It was an invariable rule that he should have this, even in summer in the South of France. He liked to know who the guests, if any, were going to be, where they were dining, what time he was meeting someone for golf. None of it was important, but all his life he had been accustomed to a programme and the Duchess wisely saw to it that he should have one. She herself was never a moment late, being a very punctual person; his programme helped the Duke to be punctual too. They led the life that many rich people do, in his case from necessity, not choice. The only job he was trained for was closed to him.

  That autumn the Windsors moved into a Paris house for the winter, in the Boulevard Suchet. Like La Croë, it was more luxurious than beautiful. It was big, with several drawing rooms ideal for parties, and it was near the Bois de Boulogne for walking their dogs and not far from the golf links at St Cloud. The Duchess took endless trouble with furnishing and decorating this house.

  The Comtesse René de Chambrun remembered18 dining at Boulevard Suchet soon after it was finished. She was the daughter of Pierre Laval, with whom the Duke, as Prince of Wales, had had a long talk at the British Embassy a few years previously, when Laval had stressed the importance for France and England to remain on good terms with Italy rather than driving it into alliance with Germany.

  Josée de Chambrun says that as she and her husband walked up the stairs the footmen in their scarlet livery made an impression of rare elegance. On the dining-room table, lit by many candles, were gold goblets filled with lilies. She says of the Duchess: ‘Elle donnait toujours à ses maisons un air de fête.’ Nobody is more competent than Mme de Chambrun to judge two things to which the French attach great importance in a woman—her clothes and her table—because she herself had great chic and provided delicious food. A friend of the Windsors for almost forty years, she awarded the Duchess top marks for both.

  Before the war, as Mme de Chambrun says, the Duchess was ‘très Mainbocher [US fashion designer, 1891-1976].’ We have seen that he made her wedding gown and her trousseau. In this connection Jane Lady Abdy describes19 a fashion show in 1979 of old dresses, 1900 to 1945; ‘among the Doucets and Redferns was a marvellous dress made for Mrs Simpson by Mainbocher
in 1935. When I saw it I really understood her legendary chic, it was so supremely elegant one longed to wear it and to be thin enough to do so.’ Mainbocher’s clothes were notable for their extreme simplicity, they relied upon perfect cut, and ideally were worn by small, slender women. The Duchess was therefore his perfect client.

  Among the many visitors to the Windsors at the Boulevard Suchet were the Lindberghs. Mrs Lingbergh and the Duchess agreed how tiresome it was for their husbands never to be able to go anywhere without being recognized. Charles Lindbergh saw eye to eye with the Duke in thinking war with Germany would be a tragedy.

  The international situation was grave. The Duke was strongly in favour of peace; he was one of those farsighted enough to realize that a war with Germany, win or lose, would be disastrous for Britain. He thought it would probably be the end of the British Empire. That many, perhaps most people would now find this desirable is neither here nor there. In his opinion it would be a tragedy. There was nothing pro-German about his point of view, it was pro-British. As an ex-serviceman who had seen the horrors and disasters of war he could not bear to contemplate a new generation wiped out as his own generation had been. In England, however, most of his political friends took the opposite point of view and were against the Munich settlement: Winston Churchill, Anthony Eden and Duff Cooper among them.

  The following summer the Windsors went back to La Croë and they were there when war was declared. At the end of August the Duke sent a telegram to Hitler in which ‘as a citizen of the world’ he begged him not to plunge the world into war. Hitler replied that he had never wanted war with England and that if it took place it would not be his fault. On 3 September, on his way to swim, the Duke was called to the telephone and the British Ambassador in Paris gave him the news. The Duchess says his comment was: ‘Great Britain has just declared war on Germany, and I am afraid in the end this may open the way for world communism.’

  He telephoned Walter Monckton in London, saying: ‘I want to offer my services in any capacity my brother deems appropriate and I must return to Britain.’ The censor insisted that all telephone calls abroad must be made in French which was difficult for the Duke and for Walter Monckton, neither of whom could speak the language easily. Three days later Monckton arrived at La Croë, sitting beside the pilot in a small Leopard Moth, to discuss plans. Mr Chamberlain offered the Duke a choice of two jobs, either Deputy Regional Commissioner in Wales, or liaison officer with the British Military Mission to General Gamelin. The Duke preferred to serve in England, but ever since his marriage he had blamed himself for not making certain at the time of his Abdication that the Duchess should be properly treated; rather naturally he had no more guessed than had anyone else what was in store. Nothing that had happened since gave him much confidence in the good faith of the authorities, but he thought something as tremendous as war might be the catalyst which could smooth out the family difficulties.

  After frantic packing the Windsors drove to Cherbourg, stopping in Paris on the way for the Duke to see the British Ambassador. They offered La Croë to be a hospital for the wounded, and they had bidden most of their household farewell some days before, those who were English having gone home to do war work. At Cherbourg a destroyer commanded by Lord Louis Mountbatten awaited them. This had been arranged by Winston Churchill, now First Lord of the Admiralty, and he had sent his son Randolph, wearing the uniform of the 4th Hussars, to greet them on his behalf. The Duke noticed that Randolph’s spurs were strapped on upside down. When they arrived at Portsmouth there was a guard of honour for the Duke, and the Commander in Chief, Admiral Sir William James, invited the Windsors to stay the night. Next day, since the Duke was offered nowhere to stay, they went to the Metcalfe’s house in Sussex.

  The Duke was up and down to London and whenever he was glimpsed by members of the public he was enthusiastically welcomed. This was noticed and it was not liked.

  One day the Duke and Duchess lunched with Lady Colefax, Harold Nicolson and H.G. Wells were there. Nicolson says the Duke in his uniform looked very young and very pleased to be home in England. As they left the house, Nicolson said to Wells: ‘Admit that man has charm.’ ‘Glamour,’ said H.G. Wells.

  The Duke saw the King and discussed with him which job he should take, and the King seemed to agree that he should be Deputy Regional Commissioner. But a few days later the CIGS informed him that he was assigned to the British Military Mission at Vincennes and was to report for duty forthwith. The Duchess says in her memoirs: ‘The civil defence job was never mentioned again. David and I suspected—perhaps unfairly—that some of the older members of the Court had recommended that, rather than encourage any possible revival of the former King’s popularity, he posted … outside the country.’ They sailed from Portsmouth to Cherbourg in a destroyer on a rough day late in September, with Major Metcalfe as the Duke’s ADC. The authorities in England breathed again.

  The Duke and Duchess on HMS Kelly, nine days after the outbreak of war. On the left is Randolph Churchill, sent by Winston Churchill, First Lord of the Admiralty, in September 1939 to greet the Duke and Duchess on his behalf; behind the Duke stands his cousin, Lord Louis Mountbatten, who was in command of the Kelly, and in the background is Major Metcalfe.

  Because the Duke’s job with Major-General Sir Richard Howard-Vyse at Vincennes entailed a good deal of travelling the Windsors did not open the house in Boulevard Suchet. Instead they stayed at the Trianon Palace Hotel in Versailles, where the Duchess busied herself making parcels of comforts for the troops. The organization was called Les Colis du Trianon and had been started by Lady Mendl who lived near the Petit Trianon.

  Before the war she and Sir Charles Mendl had given enjoyable parties at their Versailles house. He was press attaché at the Embassy and Lady Mendl was an American interior decorator of wide renown. She was quite old but she stood on her head for a long time each morning, a habit to which she attributed her health and vitality. She was luxury-loving, and Mrs Rex Benson20 thinks perhaps she gave the Duchess a few tips about how the rich live, such as taking their own fine sheets if they stayed at an hotel, but as the Duchess took to luxury with the greatest of ease Lady Mendl’s advice may not have been necessary. As a rule she did help Americans visiting Paris, by making suggestions as to how they might spend more money. Now, however, there was war, and Lady Mendl’s energy was diverted to Les Colis du Trianon.

  Prince Jean-Louis de Lucinge remembers having dinner at the Mendls’ during this period of the phoney war. The Duke was away with the army. The Duchess was playing backgammon with Noël Coward when the butler approached and said quietly: ‘Your Grace, His Royal Highness on the telephone.’ The Duchess, absorbed in her game, did not hear. The butler spoke a little louder. ‘Your Royal Highness, His Royal Highness on the telephone.’ As she still paid no attention the butler almost shouted: ‘Excuse me Your Majesty, His Royal Highness on the telephone.’ The Duchess got up to follow him, saying to her companions as she did so: ‘He’s never heard what happened.’

  Soon after this the Duchess went back to Boulevard Suchet and opened part of the house; the Duke was there from time to time. Mrs Rex Benson called on them one evening and found him knitting a muffler for Les Colis du Trianon. The Duchess now joined the French Red Cross and was kept very busy making frequent visits to hospitals near the Maginot Line, delivering bandages and plasma. There were plenty of hospitals but there were no wounded because there was no fighting. Everyone had imagined it was going to be like the First War over again.

  The Duke arriving at the War Office in Whitehall.

  The Duchess of Windsor as an officer in the French Woman’s Ambulance Corps.

  The Duke of Windsor on one of his tours of inspection of the front line in France, November1939.

  Major Metcalfe was with the Duke as ADC, and he stayed at the Ritz. He often wrote to his wife, letters just like the ones from Enzesfeld three years before; sometimes full of complaints and sometimes saying what a delightful companion the Duke had been
. These letters are fairly harmless in themselves and are probably typical of the attitude of nearly every employee dependent upon the moods of his employer. Whether their author would have wished them to be published in the lifetime of the Duchess is another matter. Major Gray Phillips, a man of great charm, joined their staff at Boulevard Suchet as comptroller; he helped the Windsors in every possible way, and stayed with them wherever they might be for many years.

  After one of his tours of inspection of the front line the Duke sent a despatch to Major General Howard-Vyse, who wrote to the War Office: ‘The Duke of Windsor has produced a valuable report on the defence.’ He saw clearly that preparations for defence were inadequate, anti-tank crews insufficiently trained and so forth. One of Metcalfe’s complaints was that although he accompanied the Duke on his tour the despatch was not shown to him.

  On 10 May the Germans began their advance in the West, bypassing the Maginot Line and overrunning the inadequate defences observed by the Duke. On the 16th the Duke took the Duchess to Biarritz, returning at once to the Military Mission in Paris. A fortnight later, with the Germans near Paris and the débâcle obvious to all, he left for Biarritz and took the Duchess to La Croë. Major Metcalfe went back to England.

  A few days later Major Gray Phillips joined them at La Croë. It had taken him four days of hitch-hiking, the roads choked with refugees, his uniform was crumpled and covered in dust. The whole of France seemed to be on the move, cars abandoned for lack of petrol were strewn beside the roads leading south and west; families, with their belongings piled on handcarts, or carrying as much as they could, were obeying the instinct that makes a civilian population flee from advancing armies. Like everyone else the Windsors got their only news from the wireless. When Italy entered the war they were advised by Major Dodds, the British Consul at Nice, to leave for Spain. Dodds had received instructions to burn his papers and he had a laisser passer from the Spanish Consul. They travelled west. When they came to barricades designed to hold up the Italian advance, manned by veterans of the First War who were indisposed to let them through, the Duke got out of his car and spoke to them: ‘Je suis le Prince de Galles. Laissezmoi passer s’il vous plaît.’ He was always recognized and it worked every time. On such occasions ‘magnetic charm’ is a powerful asset. They had no proper papers and were held up at the frontier for some hours, but finally the whole party crossed into Spain.