Chapter 61, Buckingham Palace, 23 October 1936
The soldiers, in full battledress, marched sombrely in formation as they reinforced their colleagues from the 2nd Battalion, the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry. The ‘Docs’ had been quietly moved into London by Duff Cooper, who as a key loyalist had remained as Secretary of State for War, and placed at the disposal of Hugh Dalton, the Home Secretary. The Guards Brigade had been pulled from Royal duties for a period of training and, on Churchill’s personal orders, to form a ‘strategic reserve’ should the declining situation demand it. Beyond them, a line of Police officers formed an ‘outer cordon’. So far the crowds, a mix of supporters and protesters, were respectful enough, but the young Cornish sergeant who detailed his equally young troops to their positions looked worriedly at the groups, realising that if they challenged his platoon or one another then his small command would be rapidly overwhelmed. He felt so very far from Cawsand Bay, his home.
None of that was considered up in the office of the man in whom the hopes of the Palace and Downing Street dwelled. Walter Monckton, elevated to a Chief of Staff function in the makeshift Palace administration, sat in his airy office with his head in his hands. In front of him were battered copies of the Royal Marriages Act of 1772, the Act of Settlement of 1701, and the Statute of Westminster of 1931. The King, by choosing to marry a divorced Catholic against the advice of his (former) ministers had brought down the Government, paralysed Parliament (the new administration was unable to pass any legislation), belittled the established church, stretched the relationship with the Dominions to the limit, and had split the press and people down the middle.
Monckton was a thoughtful man, considered an effective blend of charming and intelligent. He had a finely honed legal brain, and, critically, the tact and common sense to judge how and when to use it. But here, with a full-blown crisis on his hands, he felt the fear of failure. And so he had decided, yet again, to commit his advice to paper. This wasn’t the first advice that he had written; he had given his opinion so many times that he was, he feared, becoming increasingly estranged from the King, a man he had known and admired for many years and for whom he had given years of service. But the new Government had ignored his views at every meeting with Lloyd George or Sinclair, and he was becoming desperate.
The first, and perhaps easiest problem for the King, Monckton decided, was on religion. Beginning with that, Monckton prepared his advice.
“In preparing this advice, I have read the minutes of the last Cabinet meeting of the Baldwin Government, and have discussed my opinion with previous incumbents of the offices of Attorney and Solicitors General, as well as experienced advisors to the Lord Chancellors and Cabinet Secretarys. They agree with my legal assessment.
The Church of England’s objection to the proposed union between His Majesty King Edward and Mrs Wallis Simpson stands on two tenets, and these are not entirely ‘legal’ objections in the strictest sense: First, that as a divorcee she is nevertheless, in our established Church’s eye, still technically married; second, that she is a Catholic. Turning to the first point, the Church of England still holds the view that a marriage vow is binding and, although divorce may be accepted legally, once divorced a person can only remarry in a civil wedding, outside of the Church. As His Majesty King Edward is the head of the Church of England, it remains unacceptable for him to marry a woman who has already divorced once, and has commenced proceedings to divorce again to marry him. They would not be able to marry in church, therefore she will, according to the Church’s position, be still married and could not be Queen, which His Majesty King Edward will not accept. Henry VIII, although said to have divorced two wives, actually had his marriages annulled, on grounds of consanguinity and non-consummation; simply put, there was never a true marriage in either case, so it could be argued that it did not count.
The Church’s second objection to the to the proposed union between His Majesty King Edward and Mrs Wallis Simpson is that she is a Catholic, and here His Grace the Archbishop almost certainly does have a point. The Act of Settlement of 1701 states that: ‘that all and every Person and Persons that then were or afterwards should be reconciled to or shall hold Communion with the See or Church of Rome or should professe the Popish Religion or marry a Papist should be excluded and are by that Act made for ever incapable to inherit possess or enjoy the Crown and Government of this Realm and Ireland and the Dominions thereunto belonging.’ This would, should Mrs Wallis Simpson retain her adherence to the Catholic tradition, impact upon both her and His Majesty King Edward. The simplest, expedient remedy for this is for His Majesty King Edward and Mrs Wallis Simpson to renounce any Catholic loyalties and give a positive, affirmative pledge to the traditions of the Church of England.”
He paused, took off his spectacles and rubbed weary eyes. He didn’t particularly like what he was about to write, but was duty bound to advocate for his client.
“The Church appears to be in an advantageous position, but this is in all probability something that they will need to manage very carefully. His Grace may threaten disestablishment, and it is my firm belief that this most public of threats will be much more damaging than the act itself. Disestablishment may be ruinous to us, but that would harm the Church’s standing, its claim upon the 26 Lords Spiritual, and its crucial role at the heart of society. A useful corollary of disestablishment would be an opportunity to strengthen relationships with the Churches of Wales, Scotland and Ireland. I advocate the nomination of an empowered interlocutor to begin, sensitively, discussions with these groups. Notwithstanding these attractions, this will be a controversial progression in our religious settlement and will be (painfully) opposed.”
He sipped on another cup of tea, closing tired eyes. Sighing, and muttering to himself (he had given strict instructions that only the King or the Prime Minister could disturb him, but now found that he missed human company), he picked up his pen and continued his note.
“The Royal Marriages Act of 1772 is the foundation upon which all Parliamentary and constitutional discussion rests. The background to this legislation is worthy of repetition; in 1772, George III created this act as a reaction to his siblings marrying commoners and bringing opprobrium upon the Crown. This act provides that any descendant of George II cannot marry without the reigning Sovereign’s consent, ‘signified under the great seal and declared in council’. That rather clearly sets out that consent is to be set out in the licence and in the register of the marriage, and entered in the books of the Privy Council. Any marriage contracted without the consent of the Crown was to be null and void. But, if the royal person was over the age of 25 and still had not received the consent of the Crown, they would be able to give a one-year notice to the Privy Council and marry how they wished unless both houses of Parliament refused.
While the Privy Council may be persuaded (or, as I understand from my discussions with the Prime Minister, configured in such a way as to agree) to agree, should the King give notification, as I believe that he soon will, of his intention to marry, then many commentators will speculate on the application of this statute and whether the King is in difficulty is this element, section 3, which requires the consent of MPs and Lords.
It is my advice that we have plausible grounds for arguing that the Royal Marriages Act does not apply. The preamble and ratio to the Act appears to have not intended for the reigning Sovereign to be intended to be subject to its provisions. While His Majesty is within the definition of 'descendant of George II’, the preamble suggests that Parliament had in mind only the other members of the Royal family. It states that ‘marriages in the royal family are of the highest importance to the State, and that therefore the Kings of this realm have ever been entrusted with the care and approbation thereof’, suggesting that it is the Sovereign who wields the authority for determining the validity of regal marriages. A stronger line, perhaps, is precedent that the King is not bound by a Statute unless expressly referred to, as was seen in the Magdalen College Case.
There is a third ground, which is likely to face sustained challenge; the wording of the Act creates an ambiguity which, were we to face resistance to the principles above, could be argued. The Act itself excepts from its operation the issue of princesses, who have been married, or who may marry into foreign families. By the terms of the Act, Queens Alexandra and Mary and their issue would be excepted from its provisions. The House of Windsor descend (through Queen Alexandra) from two daughters of George II, Mary, Landgravine of Hesse and Louise, Queen of Denmark who married foreign rulers and (through Queen Mary) a third, Anne, Princess of Orange. The wording of the Act provides an emphasis upon this exemption that could be seen to outweigh the earlier provisions.
He truly hated this role; he was a clever man, satisfied with life and pleased to have a role in the Establishment, but was ambitious for more. He wondered how his prospects would fare when this makeshift administration collapsed, as he believed it must.
“The greatest impediment to the prosecution of Regal satisfaction and Parliamentary congruence is the current political paralysis. Parliament, led by a minority government facing an overwhelming if divided opposition, still retains the initiative should it choose to wield it upon the State Opening of 15/16 December. I foresee a number of possible developments. The first is that any and all proposed legislation is voted down by the united strength of the Conservatives, who will, it must be assumed, adopt a leadership role, Labour, who under Attlee have been underperforming if unusually cohesive, and the remnants of the National Liberals. The confidence relationship between Parliament and government is a fundamental principle of our system. It is an obvious but necessary truth that only if the executive can command the votes necessary to support its actions can it consequently be understood to have the representative authority to govern. I agree with the recent Lord Chancellor’s declaration that the confidence relationship is ‘absolutely at the core of our system of parliamentary control over the Executive working in our non-separation-of-powers constitutional structure.’ The Clerk of the House has, in our discussions, told me that there are no formal procedures surrounding what are referred to as confidence motions; they are resolutions of the House and as such are expressions of ‘the House’s opinion’ and merely, although potently, possess what is termed ‘political force’. The former Cabinet Secretary and I are agreed that while there is no legal or procedural requirement for a government to resign or a dissolution of Parliament to be sought following a vote of no confidence, the political consequences of not doing so would make governing ‘virtually impossible’. The Cabinet Secretary is right to add that conventions such as those surrounding confidence ‘are complied with because of a moral imperative’; or, as Neville Chamberlain has written, ‘they are obeyed because they encapsulate right behaviour’.”
He sighed again. “Should a government refuse to resign, or seek a fresh mandate, then Parliament could withhold ‘supply’. It could refuse to approve any government revenue until His Majesty King Edward relents, or passes repeated and regular financial measures with addenda unacceptable to him. It could, in concert with the Church of England, propose and pass legislation declaring that the King has rendered himself ineligible for the Crown under the Act of Settlement by leaving, by the act of marrying a Catholic, communion with the Church of England, and recognising the Duke of York, as heir, as the new sovereign. There is a legal and constitutional ‘neatness’ to this, as it would mirror the acts of accession.”
He got up and looked out of the window. The paralysis of the Westminster system was corrosive, and painful to be involved with. Monckton noticed that the crowds were changing, and that the longer that this matter drifted, the nastier the supporters of the King looked. And other constituencies were stirring; the British Union and its charismatic if occasionally ridiculous leader were adopting what appeared, to Monckton, to be a ‘a plague upon both your houses’ position, criticising the King for ceasing all Parliamentary activity but urging the other groups to put the needs of ordinary Britons first. There was talk of marching through London to deliver ‘a new British Charter’ to both Parliament and the King. Elements of the BU were already there, outside, cosying up to the soldiers and heckling the increasingly middle-class protesters. This was, Monckton realised, a hugely divisive issue.
“There is,” he continued writing, “a danger of looking at this through too narrow a focus, and of the immediacy of domestic matters eclipsing Commonwealth affairs. I would remind, through this advice, that the preamble to the Statute of Westminster 1931 states that ‘the Crown is the symbol of the free association of the members of the British Commonwealth of Nations, and as they are united by a common allegiance to the Crown, it would be in accord with the established constitutional position of all the members of the Commonwealth in relation to one another that any alteration in the law touching the Succession to the Throne or the Royal Style and Titles shall hereafter require the assent as well of the Parliaments of all the Dominions as of the Parliament of the United Kingdom’. The Dominions,” Monckton wrote, “have already wielded their power, and effectively; their refusal to acquiesce to the King’s proposals strengthened Stanley Baldwin’s position”. This proposal would have been a morganatic marriage, accepted widely on the continent, (although to Monckton it had an oddly Austro-Hungarian feel to it) but not employed in Britain, and Monckton had tried, tirelessly and hopelessly, to get this past domestic and Commonwealth cabinets. But they had all refused him. He considered summarising the objections, but his audience had been there, they knew what Baldwin, Mackenzie King, even Linlithgow in India had argued. India stayed in his mind. As it was not a Dominion he had not been asked to comment upon India, but now felt that something should be said. After, of course, further consideration of the settled Dominions.“The Dominions have a number of options. As the Statute of Westminster means, that, effectively, they must unanimously approve any proposals made by the Crown in regard to the Royal marriage, we are at something of an impasse. Further discourse is, naturally, encouraged, but it is my assessment that we are likely to have one of two controversial outcomes: either His Majesty King Edward or the array of Parliaments ranged against him must relent. A rather reckless attempt, perhaps by utilising the Regency Bill of 1789, to unseat His Majesty King Edward is considered far-fetched and unlikely.The Viceroy of India is not a Dominion Prime Minister; the complex political arrangements for India and the lack of established representative democracy ensure that the Viceroy lacks identifiable ‘standing’ in this matter. He will not be legally effected by the actions of the Dominions although in his discourse and dealings he appears to be behaving very much in the manner of a Dominion Prime Minister.”
He topped up his tea, and allowed himself (although naturally slender, he was at risk from corpulence) a digestive biscuit. Nibbling on his biscuit, he ploughed on. “He lacks any real legal standing. However, his ability for causing political difficulty is very real, notwithstanding his low profile with the public. His defection to the Dominions’ cause would add to the Government’s woes.”
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He climbed into the car that was to take him to Downing Street, stopping, as he went, to thank the ‘Docs’ for protecting the Palace, and making a mental note to ask the King to go out and meet them (assuming, that was, that the crowds remained pliant). As the police parted the crowds to take him to see the Prime Minister, he stared out at the Mall and wondered, sadly, what would become of them all.
He found the Prime Minister in his study, looking old, and tired. Lloyd George took Monckton’s advice without comment and, after reading it, closed his eyes as if asleep (although Monckton suspected it was contemplation).
“Thank you, Walter,” he said tiredly. “I’ll wave it past the Cabinet when we next meet. Decisions to be made,” he said quietly.
“So, Prime Minister, are we now adjusting our policy of ‘say nothing, do even less’ for one of positively seeking a decision point?”
Lloyd George, distracted, nodded. “I’ve had no new defections to us, and every day the amount of real issues builds up.” To Monckton, the fact that the pressures of the situation had amplified Lloyd George’s Welsh accent, making ‘real’ sound like ‘reel’, was striking. That pronunciation of ‘reel’ was so down-to-earth, making the ‘real’ problems seem, well, real. “Walter,” Lloyd George asked Monckton, “you’re a lawyer. How long between the Nisi and the Absolute?”
“The Simpsons,” Monckton began slightly haughtily (he couldn’t help it), “are not there yet. The Law requires that six months have elapsed before the divorce can be finalised.”
“Six months; that is February, or March, next year.”
“That is a long time for a minority government to survive without…”
“…a vote of no confidence, and a bloody election,” Lloyd George said angrily. “I take it that the Simpsons remain united on the need for this? C’mon man,” he said with bluster, I get nothing from your bloody master.”
Monckton looked at his shoes. “We must be careful on that point, Prime Minister, and the terminology that we use. Technically evidence of collusion is a ground for rejecting the petition. Mrs Simpson is, ironically, the innocent party in this case.”
Lloyd George, a lothario without match, so much so that one of his kinder nicknames was ‘the goat’ nevertheless raised his eyebrows and looked like innocence personified. “Do we care that we know that she is far from innocent? You said that the King’s Proct…whatever it’s called…”
Monckton looked down, again, at his shoes. “Well…”
“Go on,” Lloyd George said, trepidation in his voice.
“King’s Proctor. You ask how we find out the truth of such things? Well, that is the job of the King’s Proctor, a Government lawyer. It is his responsibility to investigate divorces, especially undefended divorces, in order to make sure that the petitioner is 'innocent' and that the decree has not been obtained by agreement or even by fabricated evidence.”
“What if the Proctor finds evidence?”
“If the Proctor finds that anything is suspicious, he can intervene to put the facts that he has discovered before the court. The court then has the power to rescind the Decree Nisi and thus prevent the husband and wife from marrying again.” Seeing Lloyd George about to intervene, he raised a hand. “Furthermore, even a private citizen can intervene, for a payment…”
“…how much?” That was Lloyd George, sounding half tempted to join in.
“Well it has been a while, but around half-a-crown I imagine, to do what we call ‘showing cause' why the Decree Nisi should not be made Absolute.”
“So, for a few bob, any idiot can walk in to Southampton Court and cause merry hell can he? Anyone?” The Prime Minister looked incredulous as Monckton nodded, sadly. “Has anyone?”
“Barnes assures me not yet. There have been several slightly eccentric attempts to get him to apply for rescinding of the Nisi, but none that would satisfy a bench.”
“One will come, Walter, mark my words,” Lloyd George said darkly. “We’ve bought him time, but she’s our bloody weak spot. All it takes is one idiot to be upset with her and then…”
“…the show’s off, rather,” Monckton said with a drawl. “Prime Minister, I have explained this, time and time…”
"…I know,” Lloyd George snapped.
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GAME NOTES
This chapter rounds off a trio of very politically focussed updates that started with the Chequers discussion of prorogation and end with this, real analysis of what the Government can do with the time it has now bought. The short answer is, not much. I’ve usually deliberately veered away from too much legal analysis but at its heart this is now a legal struggle (and it really always was) over several legal principles ancient and modern crossing English divorce, constitutional (ha!) and even a bit of international obligation. And the task falls to Walter Monckton to set these out for us and Lloyd George (again, in DLG’s case). Monckton really is one of the great survivors; a great friend of several of the grandees ranged against King Edward (Halifax is the obvious one, which is why I had Monckton as Lord H’s ‘fixer’ in the other AAR) but nevertheless in a critical position in the tottering Palace management. His legal analysis is not, necessarily, what I (said in a King Edward “ayyyyyye”) would write, but it sums up the position in a few key areas and makes the hopelessness of the Kings position abundantly clear.
The first element of Monckton’s assessment, on the Church of England, is to my taste possibly wrong and certainly too optimistic (and this was toned down from my first draft). I think Monckton makes some points but I think his own personality (slightly socially liberal, certainly rather metropolitan) comes across too much in his writing. The Church wields a lot of influence (it arguably still does in 2021, for goodness’ sake) and while I admire the positive ‘gloss’, it ignores the huge damage to the King’s cause if the Church of England was to openly threaten disestablishment. The Royal Marriages Act 1772 (recently amended, btw) was, let’s be fair, an utter dog’s breakfast of a statute and has created as many arguments as it has solved. Monckton’s arguments against it were either made at the time or subsequently. The Dominions, well, they’ve been kept at something of an ‘arm’s length’ by DLG and, with Linlithgow in India, will want their voice to be heard. And then we have the saga of the King’s Proctor. In OTL there were some wacky challenges and appeals so it is probable that this would be worse in this timeline. The principle of it is largely as described by Monckton.
The choices of the DLG administration are now revealing their consequences. The lack of a public rebuke by Lang and the Bishops, the lack of a properly prepared legal challenge to the Simpson divorce, all suggest that the Establishment is coordinating its response to the King. With Chamberlain anointed and Parliament closed the final bits of scene setting and getting one’s pieces in position is largely complete. There are some dark times coming for the King and Lloyd George.
This all depends on Chamberlain - what his spying efforts reveal, what Margesson and the Whips advise, and, ultimately, who survives the looming General Election. It's going to be quite a ride...
This is very true, and his strength is magnified by the simple "one issue" nature of this election. I remain, as I have bleated a lot, utterly unconvinced that Chamberlain on his own is an election asset.
I think Chamberlain is certainly confident, perhaps overconfident (a consistent trait of his character). As for Eden, he has to play his hand very, very carefully.
I daren't venture another "Halifax becomes PM" AAR, much as I would like to. It all depends on who survives the scandals and the election...
It is, indeed, my friend, a dreadful mess. And that's before we look at India and the Dominions (cracking name for a band...)
I love the logic and almost had Monckton include it in his advice! But yes, it is open to the vagaries of primogeniture and personalities...
So I wondered what you would make of this (aside from your continued needling on the lack of resistance to DLG!) and I do agree, my only other thought is that there are a lot of potential successors in that list. Kingsley Wood (although I'm not a fan, I do concede his achievements), Stanley, Halifax, Eden, Hoare (if Chamberlain honours the deal) could all, plausibly, replace or succeed Neville. This is deliberate on Chamberlain's part, to avoid having a Heseltine / Gordon Brown figure, brooding a pace behind him.
See above, it's not Eden's, automatically, not yet anyway...
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