There was a growing sense of urgency and crisis, felt by everyone. Coming past the Palace at night, wrote Virginia Woolf, 'there were crowds waiting in the cold - it is very cold - cant [sic] write - with eyes fixed on the windows. Two or 3 lights were burning in upper windows.'100 A vicar in Kensington, London, reported that 'At Evensong tonight, after prayers [had] been said for the King, this Congregation in a poor quarter of the Royal Borough spontaneously broke out into the National Anthem with a fervour seldom heard.'101
For a brief moment, Edward was tempted to appeal to his subjects. On a 'night of soul-searching', he wrote later in his memoirs, he paced his bedroom floor, weighing the alternatives. Wallis had also paced the floor sleeplessly when faced with her own critical decision, on the traumatic night before her divorce suit was presented at Ipswich Assizes. Eventually, Edward reached the decision 'which had been implicit throughout the course of my action - to put out of mind all thought of challenging the Prime Minister.' Otherwise, he could see, he would leave 'the scars of a civil war'. The price of his marriage under such circumstances, he believed, would be to strike a terrible blow at the social unity of the nation and to the Empire. He would still be King, but not by the free and common consent of all. If he made a stand, it would divide the country.102
It is arguable that Edward could have imitated in some way the model of dictatorship that was now much in evidence on Continental Europe. Many people in Britain, especially those who despaired of their 1936 Government, were looking to the King for strong leadership as a bulwark against the risk of revolution. 'I believe that first-class leadership will be needed in the near future', wrote a man from Kent, 'if this country ... is to steer a course between the Scylla of stagnation and the Charybdis of disastrous social conflict. Like many others, I have been looking to you to play your part in that leadership."03 Edward not only had a star quality that gave him widespread popularity, but he could draw on the loyalty of many thousands of ex- servicemen all over the country. This kind of support had been crucial to the power bases established by Mussolini and Hitler, who received massive backing from veterans of the 1914-18 war; like ex-servicemen in Britain, they were angry at the lack of employment and the poverty that followed their return home.
Nor would it have been difficult for Edward to make contact with Hitler - either through the many members of the Establishment who supported the Nazi regime, or through Joachim von Ribbentrop, the German ambassador to Britain. Ribbentrop was frequently seen in the best houses of Society, including the glittering receptions that were held at Londonderry House. The Londonderrys were just a few of the many members of the ruling class at the time - including Geoffrey Dawson, Mrs Greville, and a number of politicians in the National Government - who advocated what they called a 'rapprochement' with Hitler's Germany. In 1938, Lady Londonderry complained in her memoir, Retrospect, that 'The more positive "isms" are taboo, like Nazi-ism or Fascism, because they imply doing something."04 She and Lord Londonderry visited Germany in the winter of 1936, calling on Hitler and Goebbels and attending the Winter Olympics in Munich. In the same week that Edward was visiting the poor of South Wales, Ribbentrop was a guest at Wynyard, the Londonderrys' seat in County Durham; earlier that year, he had stayed at Mount Stewart, the family estate in Northern Ireland.105 It would not have been difficult for Edward to get in touch with Ribbentrop if he had wanted to seek support and help from Germany. And there is every indication that Ribbentrop (and Hitler) would have been delighted.
But even without any backing from Germany or Italy, the King of Britain could have sought absolute rule, as a kind of benevolent despot. Such a unilateral dictatorship might have been welcomed by numbers of those who were fearful of the threat to Britain of Fascism. Many people believed, along with a woman writing to the King from Belfast, that 'The members of your government . . . have so far shown themselves very helpless in their attempts to preserve peace.'106 The popular novelist Dennis Wheatley sent a message to the King saying that
Britain is the last barrier which stands for justice freedom and tolerance against a state of things the horror of which even my imagination as a storyteller to thirty nations is insufficient to conjure up. A strong and determined prince is our only hope in averting tragedy from a hundred million lives. No one but yourself can fill that role.'07
The King was needed as an influence on the future of the world, wrote a man speaking as 'one man to another', because of his honesty, truth and straightforwardness. 'At this momentous point in the history of mankind,' he added, 'humanity needs you.'108 There were 'a number of persons', said another, 'who feel that if our Constitution were brought up to date and you - you only - were invested with the powers of a Dictator, our country would become a happier and more progressive place.'109
But dictatorship, of any sort whatsoever, was not the path that Edward wished to tread. He was a firm believer in democracy and the sacrosanct role of the elected government. Once he had decided not to appeal to the people, he kept well away from central London, in the seclusion of Fort Belvedere at Windsor, twenty-five miles away. He was aware that his appearance among the crowds might fan the flames of popular support and he scrupulously wished to avoid this. This was noticed and appreciated. 'It is to the credit of the King', wrote Archbishop Lang in his diary, 'that in these hectic days and hours he has cancelled all his engagements and refused to come to London, so as to avoid all demonstrations and do as little as he could to divide the country.'110
10 'Don't abdicate!'
Far away in Cannes, Wallis was fighting hard to dissuade Edward from giving up his throne. 'I am so anxious for you not to abdicate', she wrote from Lou Viei on Sunday 6 December. She was afraid that it would put her 'in the wrong light to the entire world because they will say that I could have prevented it.' if you will just give Baldwin my plan', she urged him. if he turns it down then you have yours and the world could know a second compromise was turned down.' Wallis wanted Edward to say to Baldwin, 'I stand back of everything I have said but I do not wish to create a situation within the country so I therefore will not press this issue at the moment but reopen it in the autumn.' She added, 'No one but Baldwin and the dominions want you to go and as the Aga Khan telephoned they haven't given you a fighting [chance]. The people in the press are clamouring for a word from you . . . Think my sweetheart isn't it better in the long run not to be hasty or selfish but back up your people and make an 8 month sacrifice for them.' In this way, she believed, no one would be able to say he had 'shirked and ran away when the people were rallying to your aid'.
Wallis pointed out that Baldwin had already misrepresented his case in Parliament, by repeating over and over that she must be Queen. The people needed to know, she said, of the morganatic idea: 'Don't be silenced and leave under cloud I beseech you and in abdication no matter in what form unless you can let the public know that the Cabinet has virtually kicked you out ... I must have any action of yours understood by the world but hidden by B[aldwin] we would have no happiness and I think the world would turn against me. When now we have their sympathy.' She tried to comfort him: 'I'm holding you tighter than ever."
But while Wallis's encouragement and love were good for the King's morale, they were ineffective as a means of intervening in the struggle between Edward and the Establishment. Nearly a thousand miles from Britain and Fort Belvedere, she had little influence on his decisions. Matters might have been different had Wallis taken the advice of Brownlow, Churchill and Beaverbrook, and gone to Belton House, I shall always believe', said the novelist Marie Belloc Lowndes, 'that had Mrs Simpson stayed in England instead of going to France, it is probable that Edward VIII would never have abdicated. It is a very different thing to advise a man over the telephone to do this or that, and to beg him to do what you wish to be done when you are actually with him.'2
Ernest Simpson made his own attempt to prevent abdication. On 7 December he telephoned 10 Downing Street, saying he was at the Prime Minister's disposal, if Baldwin thought he cou
ld be of any use.3 He believed he would be able to assist on what he called the 'psychological aspect of the matter' - he knew the mind of his wife, he said, as well as anyone. He was convinced she was not so much in love with the King as the King was with her, and he thought that if his wife was approached by someone in authority she might be persuaded to see reason. However, Mr Simpson does not appear to have understood the psychology of his wife quite as well as he thought. As he himself acknowledged, he had twice threatened to leave her, hoping that such a threat would bring her to reason and persuade her to give up Edward; but neither of these threats had any effect. Moreover, the idea that Wallis would submit to somebody simply because they were 'in authority' is odd, given her spirited character - it is more likely to have been true of Ernest himself, who was more biddable and liked to conform. But in any case, Ernest's offer to Baldwin was not taken up.4
Monday 7 December saw an attempt in the House of Commons to support the King. Colonel Josiah Wedgwood, a Labour MP who was himself divorced, put down a motion of loyalty to Edward, asking the Prime Minister to give the House an early opportunity to discuss it. But the moment was short-lived, for Wedgwood was met with a flat refusal from Baldwin. Then, in reply to a question by Attlee, Baldwin announced that he had something to add to the statement he had made the previous Friday. The House was delighted. It had been breathlessly awaiting a new development in the crisis, and now at last something was starting to happen. 'From the beginning of questions,' reported The Times, 'there was hardly a vacant seat, and both the side galleries contained an unbroken rank of anxious members.' The Peers' Gallery was filled as soon as the doors were opened, and the peers were standing four and five deep in the narrow gangway between the door and the benches.5
Eager interest was by no means limited to Westminster - the whole nation was hungry for news. 'An ordinary day and still no news as to what decision the King will make', wailed a middle-aged classics master at a boarding school for boys - 'Though we got through Evening Chapel in record time so as to be able to hear the First News on the wireless!'6 While some people were simply curious, many others were desperate to find out what was happening to their beloved King - and were still fervently hoping that he would remain their monarch. A Bristol woman, writing 'on behalf of some of the girls at work', begged him not to abdicate. 'Your Majesty is very popular here in Bristol,' she told Edward,
and we all know how well you have carried out your duties ... In the factory where we work everyone supports you, and in Bristol itself we can assure you that 90% of the population are on your side. You have only to read the papers to see how much everyone wants you to stay, and further evidence of this is shown at Cinemas, Concerts etc when the National Anthem is played - the people want and need you.
Baldwin told the House that with the exception of the question of a morganatic marriage, the Government had given the King no advice. He added that 'these matters were not raised first by the Government but by His Majesty himself in conversation with me some weeks ago when he first informed me of his intention to marry Mrs Simpson whenever she should be free.' This was not accurate, since it was he - and not the King - who had first raised the subject, in his interview with Edward on 20 October; indeed, he had specifically asked for that audience in order to express his concerns about Mrs Simpson's plan to sue for a divorce, which he had heard about from Alec Hardinge.
Baldwin concluded his speech to the House by saying that it was now up to His Majesty to make a decision. He then proceeded to answer questions about the crisis. At this point, Churchill entered the House. (He had come directly from the Anglo-French Luncheon Club, where Lady Milner had been furious because 'Churchill - who was in the chair - embarrassed us by proposing the King's health in a set speech. He was checked from saying more by the Chairman of the Club.'8) He wasn't aware that the Prime Minister had been speaking on the crisis. He therefore rose, for the third time in four days, to demand that 'no irrevocable step will be taken before the House had received a full statement.' He asked Baldwin to bear in mind
that these issues are not merely personal to the present occupant of the Throne, but that they affect the entire Constitution? . . . May I say that the right hon. Gentleman has spoken of rumours? If he were able to give an assurance that the House would have the constitutional issue laid before it, then this anxiety would not persist.
He also pleaded with Baldwin for delay.9
But on this third occasion there were cries from all sides of 'No!' and 'Sit down!' Lucy Baldwin, who had gone to the House to hear her husband's speech, recorded in her diary that 'The House wouldn't hear Winston and shouted him down.' Churchill was staggered at how the tide of opinion had turned over the weekend, reported The Times. Then, 'with a complete absence of felicity,' added the newspaper, 'he launched into a speech, giving, apparently, the arguments for a fuller statement and some form of the consultation of Parliament.' He was reminded by the Speaker to confine his remarks to a question; and earned further reproof for the way in which he put his question.10 Baldwin replied that the Government was not prepared to introduce legislation to allow a morganatic marriage, and that the Dominions agreed. At this point (although it was not recorded in Hansard), Churchill shouted at Baldwin across the floor of the House, 'You won't be satisfied until you've broken him, will you?'11 He then stormed out.
The tide had turned in the House - Baldwin had won. Years later, G. M. Young, his biographer, said to him, I believe you were the only man on Friday who knew what the House of Commons would be thinking on Monday.' With a smile that was 'half shy and half triumphant', Baldwin replied, 'I have always believed in the weekend. But how they do it I don't know. I suppose they talk to the stationmaster.'12
When members of the public who were supporting Churchill read about his defeat in the House, they were bitterly disappointed and urged him not to give up. 'You have my sympathy in your experience in the House yesterday,' said one man, 'but may I respectfully beg of you to stick it out. People I meet are already sick of the press ballyhoo & much less hostile to the King & to Mrs Simpson. In another week they will all be back on the side of the King.'" Another letter took a more vigorous approach - 'We regret that this singularly foolish and sheeplike House of Commons should have treated you to an exhibition of trivial, schoolboyish bad manners yesterday. You should spank them."4
The hostility of the House arose most likely from the widespread talk of a King's Party and the suspicion that Churchill might be playing an intriguer's part. The weekend had been dominated by speculations about Churchill and his possible ambitions. Besides, a proliferation of unsavoury rumours, especially in Labour circles, was leading many to believe that Mrs Simpson might come to have an undesirable influence on Britain's foreign policy - for it was said that she was a friend of Ribbentrop, Hitler's ambassador.'5 In fact, though, according to Wallis's memoirs, she had met Ribbentrop only twice, both times at Emerald Cunard's house. The first occasion was a large luncheon, which was also attended by Winston Churchill, and the second was a supper party later the same week. At the luncheon, wrote Wallis, Churchill kept silent, while Ribbentrop held forth on 'the great things' Hitler was doing for the unmarried mothers of Germany. Once Ribbentrop had gone, she heard Churchill telling Lady Cunard, 'Emerald, I hope we never have to hear that broken gramophone record again."6
Philip Ziegler, Edward's official biographer, has concluded that the idea that Wallis was a paid agent of the Nazi Government 'can safely be dismissed'.17 But the story about Wallis and Ribbentrop helped to check any tendency on the part of left-wing sympathizers in the House to support the royal marriage. It could easily have been squashed by the many right-wingers who actually were friends of Ribbentrop; however, they left the story to grow.
No doubt, Ribbentrop had hoped to develop a bond of some sort with Wallis. Like many others, he would have seen her as a passport to the King, with whom Hitler was eager to forge some kind of alliance. But, noted Ziegler, a 'real conversation with the King . . . never materialized
. . . something unforeseen always intervened', to Ribben- trop's regret.18 Edward himself wanted good Anglo-German relations, but that was not the same thing as support for Hitler.
The image of Mrs Simpson as a kind of foreign agent combined in a lethal mix with the claim that Edward had no regard for government papers and left them scattered around the Fort. 'I have heard rumours', wrote the publisher Francis Meynell in his abdication journal, 'that when the King used to go down to Fort Belvedere he took down all sorts of most confidential national papers to which at any time she [Mrs Simpson | might have had access & had she been so minded communicated their contents to any power. It was said at one time she was very friendly with [Leopold von| Hoesch - an Hungarian statesman [and the German ambassador before Ribbentrop].' These sorts of things, added Meynell, 'were bound to be said but other incidents of which I heard made one view her with much suspicion on this point."9 Alan Turing, who was later to work as the key code- breaker at Bletchley Park in World War II, had at first sided with Edward. He wrote to his mother that now he was 'rather divided on my opinion of the whole matter. At first I was wholly in favour of him retaining the throne and marrying Mrs Simpson, and if this were the only issue it would still be my opinion. However I have heard stories recently which seem to alter it rather.' Revealing a budding interest in issues of state security, he commented that, 'It appears that the King was extremely lax about state documents leaving them about and letting Mrs Simpson and friends see them. There had been distressing leakages. Also one or two other things of same character, but this is the one I mind about most.' Nonetheless, he added, he admired Edward 'for his attitude'.20
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