Chapter 72, Parliament, 15 December 1936
It was early, very early. Only streetsweepers, milkmen and, seemingly, Members of Parliament were about and to the business of the day.
The Speaker of the House of Commons had enjoyed a rather easy existence of late. As Parliament had not sat for nearly two months Edward Fitzroy, a staunch Conservative, had little to do beyond pleading with Philip Sassoon and others to allow Parliament to meet. Nominally something of a diehard Chamberlainite, Fitzroy’s ‘shires Tory’ tone had slackened recently; Chamberlain, eager to pile on the pressure, had cheekily touted encouraging Fitzroy to resign to allow a Speaker to be selected from Lloyd George’s MPs, further reducing their voting presence in the House. It wasn’t a serious suggestion, Fitzroy believed, for the role of the Speaker came loaded with centuries of precedent and some subtle, though effective powers. Nevertheless, Chamberlain’s casual rejection had hurt Fitzroy, and it was in a sour mood that he found Winston Churchill waiting for him in his office.
“I was wondering,” Fitzroy said heavily, “who they would send.”
“I am not here,” Churchill said, gravely, “to speak on David’s behalf.”
Fitzroy was immediately intrigued, and then more so when David John Colville MP, a Scottish Unionist (so affiliated with the Conservatives, and taking the Tory whip) entered his office without knocking.
“Mr Speaker,” Colville said with a stern nod.
“John,” Fitzroy said with muted acknowledgement.
“I’ve asked John to join us,” Churchill said with his usual grandeur, “as he and I have kept the lines of communication going between our two groups over the last two months.”
“Yeees,” Fitzroy said warily. “A flag of truce?”
“Something like that,” Churchill growled. “Edward,” the old man said, still grave and serious, “this afternoon.”
“You’re going to let us sit?”
“I am,” Churchill said, and there was something odd in the voice, a sense of keeping cards close to the chest.
Fitzroy had cards too, and warily played one. “The Court Circular says that His Majesty will open Parliament later today,”
“Yes it does,” Churchill said softly, sadly.
“I intend to follow convention and allow a full debate, in both Houses. That is what the Order Papers say, and that is what the lobby correspondents have been told.”
Colville, essentially a plausibly deniable emissary of Chamberlain, raised an eyebrow. “Do I understand, Winston, that Sassoon will allow the debate to proceed?”
“He has been told, John, to prevaricate.”
Fitzroy was irritated. “That’s not what he asked, Winston.”
“He will be dealt with,” Churchill said fiercely. “And the debate will go ahead.”
Colville and Fitzroy exchanged surprised looks. “How,” Fitzroy asked, wholly inappropriately, “will you ensure this?”
“That is a problem for me,” Churchill said in angry rebuke. “But this farce, this ha’penny music hall act, it has to end.”
Fitzroy turned to Colville. “You will convey this to the Leader of the Opposition?” He had adopted a serious formality.
“I will, but I would to thank you, Winston, for allowing this debate to proceed.”
“Chamberlain should know about that,” Fitzroy said pointedly.
“He will,” Colville agreed, fervently, before taking the hint and leaving, presumably to brief Neville Chamberlain.
Churchill grabbed at his stick and, huffing, rose to his feet. “It will be quite a day,” he said, heavily.
“Winston,” Fitzroy said softly, “good luck.”
“I’m past bloody luck,” the old man growled.
====
Not far away, in his palatial area of the Foreign Office, Samuel Hoare sat down sulkily at his desk. A girl from the typing pool sat, poised, while he stared out of the window, lost in his thoughts.
“I am ready,” he said sternly. “To, the Right Honourable Neville Chamberlain MP, date it please, space for a greeting,” the metallic clanging rattled along, echoing round Hoare’s huge office, “I am ready to undertake a move to refuse the Whip of our present allegiance and rejoin you, and will bring six Conservative members back to the fold. This move, advantageous to you, will make a mockery of the rebel government and further advance a reasonable, no, see if you can put pragmatic, resolution of our current constitutional difficulties. It is hoped that this manoeuvre will it is hoped, no that doesn’t sound right, leave off the last 'hope', afford to me the status to which I currently enjoy as an experienced and proven member of Cabinet. The Prime Minister is currently, I understand, apprising himself of the provisions of the Emergency Powers Acts, an unconscionable move from a blackguard and scoundrel of the highest order. I believe that my return to Conservatism will herald a significant collapse of the makeshift administration and a return to good, no, if you can put sound, governance. Space for signature and then my post noms,” ‘post noms’ were ‘post nominals,’ the abbreviated jumble of honours and qualifications that Hoare was entitled to put after his name.
He checked the letter, signed it, and had a Foreign Office courier (technically a breach of etiquette as this was party, not Foreign Office business) take it over to Neville Chamberlain’s office in the Commons. In his tray, as yet unsigned, was the resignation letter for Lloyd George, signalling that Hoare was resigning from the Cabinet for the good of the country. Hoare would sign it only when Chamberlain had agreed to retain him as Foreign Secretary.
For the first time in nearly three months, Samuel Hoare felt very confident for the future indeed.
====
He never really felt a sense of destiny or fate, but today he knew that it was he who commanded a nation’s attention. Fiddling, for the twentieth time, with his wing collar he looked at Colville, and then back to the other side of the table where Halifax, Margesson and ‘Rab’ Butler sat arrayed like an interview panel.
“And you believe that Winston will honour this?”
“I do, Neville, that’s why he wanted me there, he could have just told Fitzroy what he was planning and been done with it.”
“He’s half crazed,” Chamberlain snapped. “But, he has handed us a victory.”
“There is much to be done,” Halifax said ponderously, puncturing Chamberlain’s triumphalist aura. “Have our members been cowwalled?”
“They have, My Lord,” Margesson said immediately. “The peers as well, although I doubt we need them.”
“Do we inform Labour,” Halifax asked no one in particular, rather innocently.
“Now you’re half crazed,” Chamberlain said tartly. “This must be a Conservative victory, Edward. We must be seen to bring down that man and his government.”
“How do we do it?” That was Colville.
“There will be a debate,” Chamberlain snapped.
“On the Addwess in Weply,” Halifax muttered.
“Yes My Lord,” Butler said in ready agreement. “A debate on the Address in Reply, and then a division,” he continued, ‘division’ meaning a vote.
“And the vote is considered a motion of confidence in the government,” Halifax finished.
Margesson, an air of menace never far away, tensely watched the conversation. “Question,” he said curtly.
“Of course, Chief Whip,” Chamberlain said rather imperiously, although he thought that he really was being gracious to Margesson.
“Do we want a debate? Why not go straight to the vote.”
Chamberlain smiled greedily, while Halifax frowned.
“It’s a good idea,” Butler said, wary of irritating Chamberlain and Halifax, “we could whip our people to not engage in endless debate.”
“Come come,” Chamberlain said fussily, “I doubt that Lloyd George has much of a legislative programme to review!”
“Nevertheless,” Margesson interjected, “procrastination is in Lloyd George’s interest. The longer the debate goes on…”
“…the longer he survives,” Chamberlain finished. “But he would merely delay the inevitable.”
“I agwee with the Chief Whip,” Halifax said tiredly. “Let us be done with this tiresome business.”
“Attlee?” That was Butler.
“I’ll talk to the Labour Whips,” Margesson said, his tone permitting no dissent. “What about the Government?”
“You want to ask Lloyd George not to make speeches?” Butler’s true, rather sarcastic character was asserting himself. Margesson’s response was a look of utter contempt.
“Good point, Rab,” Chamberlain said quickly, “John, we need you.”
“Me?”
“Why, yes. Ask Winston if he would organise the Government’s speakers.”
Colville looked sadly among the senior Conservatives. “Alright, I’ll do it,” he said quietly.
“Does this mean that we tweat Winston as a weturnee?”
“A what?” Chamberlain wasn’t really interested in Halifax’s point.
“One of us,” Halifax persisted, “back, well, ‘in’.”
Butler snorted derisively, Margesson raised an eyebrow, while Neville Chamberlain smirked.
“Why, why, Edward, let’s see if he can come up with the goods!”
Halifax looked baffled. “Meaning Neville?”
Chamberlain could have offered a direct answer but chose another homily. “Let’s see if our postman can deliver!” He barked an excited laugh.
There was a knock at the door and one of the Tory Whips arrived and, silently handed a letter to Margesson. He stood at attention in a military style while Margesson read the letter.
“Remarkable,” Margesson, rarely given to wasted words, couldn’t help but offer the comment. He realised that the others were staring at him. “It’s for you, Neville. Samuel Hoare wants to come back to us.”
“How tiresome,” Halifax said with evident distaste.
“What a thought,” Butler said, trying to catch the mood.
“Why?” Colville was lost.
“One moment, John,” Chamberlain said with a raised finger. “Chief Whip, what does he bring?”
“Six members,” Margesson said tonelessly.
Chamberlain nodded, his finger still raised, and now addressed Colville. “So Sam wants to jump ship before he loses his seat in the General Election. He controls a mere six members, we don’t need them or him,” Margesson nodded while Halifax looked pained. “If Churchill can give us the time and vote we need in Parliament, we don’t need Slippery Sam.”
“Was there anything else?” Margesson asked this of the Junior Whip.
“Well, there is a rumour that the King is running late.”
“Oh, this is good news,” Butler said happily. “He may be trying to worm out of it.”
Neville Chamberlain smiled his secretive smile, happy at last.
====
Lloyd George was distracted, a terrible position for a Prime Minister acting as midwife to a King’s Speech to be in. “So, Walter, you’re telling me…”
“…for the third time, Prime Minister,” Monckton said wearily, “he is not coming.”
“But he has to! He must!”
“Little man, little man, must, is not a word to be used for Princes,” Monckton said with a weary smile.
“What,” Lloyd George said angrily, “was that.”
“Queen Elizabeth,” Monckton said, surprised that the Prime Minister didn’t know the quotation. “To Cecil, I think.”
“Meanwhile,” Lloyd George said testily, “I have a King refusing to do his duty.”
“You wouldn’t want him,” Monckton said guiltily, miming the holding of a bottle to the lips.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish that it was so,” Monckton said, rather primly. “He has, however, approved your list of peerages.”
“Well, that’s one thing,” Lloyd George huffed. “Ah, Philip, Archie,” he said as Philip Sassoon and Archie Sinclair entered the Cabinet Room.
“Rather a poor show from HM,” Sassoon, clearly apprised, said silkily, languidly.
“Is it out there, yet?”
“Every one of Chamberlain’s men is happily spreading the news.”
“Where’s Winston?”
“Not next door,” Sassoon offered, “I gather he is with Brendan Bracken somewhere.”
Lloyd George closed his eyes. “This might, actually, help us you know. I need a precedent for a King being indisposed, or absent, for an Address. Off you go,” he said peremptorily. “Find us a way to postpone,” he added, his confidence returning.
There was hope.
====
The Commons had a ‘first day back at school’ air to it; the most astute of the MPs (particularly those in the fraying government ranks) had been assiduously nursing their constituencies and had largely been absent from the House for months. Nervous chatter was exchanged, predictions made on the day’s events, and every so often an insult, particularly between the bitterly divided Conservatives (most Labour MPs having returned to Attlee’s banner and the Liberals united behind the Lloyd George and the King), was traded in a packed corridor. Whips of all parties were scurrying around, endlessly taking numbers and hissing warnings and instructions. The air was febrile, tense.
Everyone not aligned with the Government wanted to get into his (or occasionally her) respective house and end this nonsense. But Whitehall ceremony had to be first obeyed.
In a normal world the King or Queen would proceed in great ceremony (although much of the ‘ancient’ ritual was actually Victorian rather than medieval) to the Sovereign’s Entrance, thence to the Robing Room where the Imperial State Crown and the formal robes would be donned, and he would lead the Royal Procession into a packed House of Lords.
Not so today. The King, declaring until this morning that he would of course attend the trigger event for his likely doom, had suddenly refused to leave Windsor. Lloyd George was secluded in his office in the Commons, and so Churchill, raging, had grabbed the clearly broken and defeated Walter Monckton and had dragged him around the building in search of precedent. That found (the clerks in the Commons were certain that the Lord Chancellor could stand in) a suitable Lord to read the address (Lloyd George having never formally appointed a Lord Chancellor) had to be suitably briefed.
And so it was that Lord Percy, again, found himself in the furnace of Parliamentary history.
“I did it last time,” he said bitterly as the junior MP handed him the King’s Speech. He was referring to the prorogation speech, which he had delivered.
“Winston’s adamant,” the MP said simply. “He also asks if you have seen Hoare.”
“Not for days,” Percy said, and put down his Cabinet papers to go over the speech. He looked over to where his formal dress clothes waited, and felt desperately sick.
====
Any doubt that the Government had lost its fight evaporated for Neville Chamberlain when he waited, in the Commons, for the summons to the Lords. Many of Lloyd George’s MPs were absent while Winston Churchill, surrounded by a Pretorian Guard of acolytes, glowered like a grumpy cherub from the front bench. Seating, or at least appropriate seating, was a problem. The House of Commons is far too small for over 600 members to sit in at once, and so rather chaotically the Opposition so dwarfed the Government that there were Opposition members now nominally sitting with the Government benches. It was a farce.
“Someone’s running late,” ‘Rab’ Butler muttered from his seat on the Opposition’s second row down to the front bench where Neville Chamberlain was chatting away to Sir John Simon.
“Any word on His Majesty?”
“Hoare has sent a second note, confirming that HM won’t attend.”
“Thank you, Rab,” Chamberlain said with a smile. “Anything else?”
“Walter Monckton has just resigned from the Palace staff, he has told Halifax.”
Sir John Simon, an unpopular Liberal who had remained loyal to the old National Government despite the Liberal leader’s support for Lloyd George and the King, raised an eyebrow. “Quite the moment of drama,” he chuckled.
“Halifax wants to bring him in,” Butler said gossipy. “They’re firm friends.”
Simon smiled. “The prodigal returns, eh, Neville?”
“Possibly,” Chamberlain said, not entirely sure that it would benefit anyone to welcome the lawyer of a disgraced King into the fold. “Let us see what happens here first.”
“Yes, Neville, of course.”
“Why did he resign?”
“I understand from Hoare that a number of Cabinet ministers agreed to ask His Majesty to declare a state of emergency.”
“The Emergency Powers Act?”
“Apparently, but we’re not sure who it was and whether or not they were serious. Anyway, Monckton held on to the request long enough to allow us to convene, and then resigned.”
The waiting continued, and then, finally, Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod (known more commonly and simply as ‘Black Rod’), the retired Lieutenant General Sir William Pulteney, could be seen marching towards the House of Commons. As is traditional, the door was slammed in his face, a civil war tradition commemorating a previous Parliament’s stand against a wayward King. After he had dutifully banged on the door the prescribed three times, Pulteney commanded the Commons to attend the Lords.
“Mr Speaker! The King commands this honourable House to attend His Majesty immediately in the House of Peers."
“Is ‘e there then?” That was one of the Labour MPs in a broad Lancastrian accent, revelling in the farce. The laughter that greeted this seemed to cut the tension. Pulteney had not been given an alternate wording and so had persevered with the standard one, for when the King was present.
Another note of farce crept in as Lloyd George, copying his King, didn’t show up; both Chamberlain and Attlee jostled to lead the Opposition into the Lords. Attlee, the more affable of the two, eventually agreed to walk behind the leads of an ashen Churchill and a smirking Neville Chamberlain. Eden, whose role in a future Chamberlain Cabinet was uncertain, nervously slotted in behind Attlee and next to a dejected Samuel Hoare.
Noting that there was no conversation between Churchill and Chamberlain, Attlee spoke up to an angry looking Churchill. “Who’d you get to do the speech?”
“Eustace Percy,” Churchill growled.
“Wasn’t he the one you called ‘Useless’ Percy?”
“Probably,” said Churchill, “but he knows his duty.”
“As you did yours, Winston,” Neville Chamberlain said simply. Attlee raised an eyebrow, Churchill raised two. Neville Chamberlain was known for many things, but magnanimity wasn’t one of them.
They MPs of the Commons entered the House of Lords, stopping almost as soon as they entered in the sort of lobby area known as the Bar of the House. The Lords were bedecked in their state regalia. The King was obviously absent and, at the foot of the steps leading to the throne, Lord Eustace Percy stood stock still, sweating profusely in his robes.
Percy coughed. Deciding that he could, after all, speak, he began. “My Lords and Members of the House of Commons,” he began.
“Poor bugger,” one of the MPs muttered from where they were huddled at the Bar.
Percy did his best. “My relations with foreign Powers continue to be friendly. The policy of My Government continues to be based upon membership of the League of Nations. They desire to see the League strengthened for its work in the pacific settlement of international disputes, and they have already made known at Geneva their proposals for the improved working and wider authority of the League. My Government will co-operate with other Governments in the work of the Committee of the League which has been set up to examine these and other proposals.” That wasn’t this Government’s policy, it was Stanley Baldwin’s. Baldwin’s absence was keenly felt today, looming large over all that happened. “My Government will continue to do all in their power to further the appeasement of Europe. With this object in view they will persist in their efforts to bring about a meeting between the Five Powers signatory to the Treaty of Locarno. I trust that, as a result of the negotiations at present in progress, the Treaty for the limitation of naval armaments, which was signed in London on 25th March by representatives of the United States of America, France, the United Kingdom, Canada, the Commonwealth of Australia, New Zealand and India, will form the basis of an international agreement to which all naval powers will eventually become parties. My Government will nevertheless seek a benevolent revision of that agreement at the earliest opportunity.” This one of the few policies in the speech, and there were murmurs of disquiet at the admission that the Government wanted a review.
Percy continued on. “My Government have followed with concern the political situation in the Far East, where peace and tranquillity are so essential to the important interests of My people in that part of the world. It is my hope that the negotiations now in progress between China and Japan may result in a satisfactory solution. My Ministers, while maintaining their determination to support the international agreement for non-intervention in Spain, will continue to take every opportunity to mitigate human suffering and loss of life in that unhappy country. I trust that before the end of the present year the Treaty of Alliance with Egypt will have been ratified by Myself and the King of Egypt, and that it will prove to be the means of loyal co-operation between our two Governments and peoples whose destinies are inseparably bound together by common aims and interests.”
Churchill had shrewdly removed the next bit, about a planned Imperial Conference and discussion of the King visiting Egypt. Given the tension in India, and within the Cabinet on the subject of India, he had also removed a passage on the Government of India Act.
“I deeply regret the serious disturbances which have taken place in Palestine during the last six months, and which made it necessary to despatch additional troops from our Home Forces. I welcome the recent improvement in the situation and trust that in the future a conclusion to the very difficult problems will come before them and we will conclude a just and permanent settlement."
"Members of the House of Commons, the Estimates for the Public Services will be laid before you."
"Not bloody likely!" Another voice, this one of lowland Scotland, shouted from the floor. He had a point, the odds of a Lloyd George Government getting any financial measure passed were miniscule.
Percy shook, visibly, with the nervousness he so clearly felt. "The work of strengthening my defence forces is being pressed on with the utmost energy and is now making rapid progress. My Government and I are satisfied that the measures they are taking are essential to the defence of my Empire and to the ability of this country to discharge its international obligations.” A passage on further appeasement had been gleefully removed by Churchill.
"My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I am gratified to note that the general trade and industrial outlook continues to be favourable, and that there is good ground for expecting that there will be further improvement. My ministers will continue to foster industrial activity at home and, in the belief that the attainment of general prosperity here depends on further expansion of our overseas trade, to maintain their efforts to promote the freer exchange of goods throughout the world."
"Close attention will continue to be given to the improvement of conditions in my realms, other Bills you will be invited to pass are measures to make better provisions for preventing abuses of the law relating to clubs, to regulate unit trusts, to improve the efficiency of the organisation of the fire brigade services of the country, and to amend the scheme of railway freight rebates.” It was a pitiful list of legislation, the offcuts from departments and all that the Government dared mention. The MPs, who are supposed to listen to the speech in reverential silence, were astonished.
“Other measures of importance will be laid before you and proceeded with as time and opportunity offer.”
Percy looked like a man escaping disaster. “And I pray that the blessing of Almighty God may rest upon your deliberations."
“Is that it?” An outraged, aristocratic voice, boomed from somewhere amidst the standing MPs.
That was it. The MPs returned to their Chamber. It was time to see a government fall.
====
The first stage of Commons business after a King’s Speech was the proposal of the response, the Humble Address, back to the Sovereign. There is a speech given, by a Government MP, and then seconded by an Opposition MP.
The task of speaking for the Government benches (and, arguably, the King) in the address was Beverley Baxter, a Conservative MP who was a journalist and editor for the Beaverbrook papers and was still in the pay of the ‘First Baron of Fleet Street’. Rising awkwardly to his feet (out of nervousness rather than cramped seating, as the Government benches were rather thinly filled today), his words were drowned out by the enraged shouts from the Opposition Conservatives and Labour MPs.
“He’s a puppet! Look at him, you can see the strings!”
“Aye, but who’s pulling ‘em! Beaver or the King!”
“What’s wrong Beverley? Wallis got to you as well!”
“It’s Mr Punch! Ooh Mr Punch!”
Fitzroy rose to quell the noise, and the House finally fell silent. “Members are reminded on the rules regarding discussion of the Crown in this House. The Member for Wood Green
will be heard. Mr Beverley Baxter.”
“Mr Speaker I beg to move that a humble address be presented to His Majesty, as followeth.” He coughed. “As followeth. ‘Most Gracious Sovereign, we Your Majesty’s most dutiful and loyal subjects, the Commons of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, in Parliament assembled, beg leave to offer our humble thanks to Your Majesty for the Gracious Speech which Your Majesty has addressed to both Houses of Parliament.” This was heard in near silence.
“The whole House was gratified at His Majesty’s address to us, saddened that his illness and the disgraceful threats to his person from the benches opposite made it impossible for him to attend in person, but with our deep feelings of devoted loyalty to him undaunted.” The shouting began, MPs from all over the Commons screaming at Baxter to sit down and be done with it. “I am deeply conscious that the honour today is mine as the Member for Wood Green, where support for His Majesty has never been less than steadfast. They are keenly appreciative of the honour which has been done them through their Parliamentary representative.” His last words were drowned in shouting and contemptuous laughter.
“The Member will be heard!” Fitzroy commanded.
“His Majesty is, of course, a man of unimpeachable character, and with modernity and right on his side.” Fitzroy looked up; the character of the Sovereign was not a matter for this speech and debate. He looked to his left where David Margesson, the terrifying Conservative Chief Whip, signalled for him with the slightest of nods to let it continue. Seeing little interest in cessation from the Opposition, Fitzroy pursed his lips awkwardly and let it continue. “All we ask is that a simple matter of matrimony be allowed to continue uninterrupted.”
Fitzroy had had enough, while Winston Churchill was puce with rage. Seeing the Speaker rise, Baxter stuck to the script. “I feel that I cannot sit down without a brief reference to a subject which is uppermost in our minds at present. I remain a convinced supporter of the policy of adherence to the League of Nations, and I am glad that the Government have made suggestions for the better working of such a body. The men and women of Great Britain are passionately anxious to maintain peace, and they are thankful that the Government have kept them out of entanglements that might lead to war. There is no diversity of opinion between men and women on the subject of peace, but in war time there comes a distinct cleavage between the burdens of suffering each is called upon to bear.” That was a Beaverbrook line, trying to appeal to the growing female readership, although to some it sounded almost disparaging.
“There are no scales whereby we can balance up the sum of human suffering, but I believe I speak for the people of Great Britain when I say that if ever the time comes again when men will fight, there is one form of suffering they demand that they shall not have to undergo, and that is the suffering that comes from the knowledge that the fighting forces are not properly equipped and that human lives are being sacrificed because due preparation was neglected. A strong Britain, strong not only in her defence forces to deter aggression, but with her strength founded on the wellbeing of the individual and the mutual responsibility of her people can, I believe, bring to a world that is restless and almost despairing a real measure of hope and faith.”
He sat down to chaos.
Chamberlain and Margesson had spent an age (after swatting away Attlee’s suggestion that it should come from his ranks) working out who should Second the address. In the end, and half predicting the awkwardness of Baxter’s speech, they had settled on Sir Howard Kingsley Wood, a Chamberlain loyalist to the core.
“I intended,” he began lightly, pushing his steel-rimmed spectacles along his nose, “to associate myself with the member opposite in expressing gratification that His Majesty was able this morning to attend his first opening of Parliament in person.” He paused, laughter flowing from the Opposition benches to where the Government sat in stony silence. “And I am reminded of the old military adage that to plan early, is to plan twice!” With an overemphasised flourish he threw the first sheet of his speech on to the floor before him. There was laughter from the Opposition Conservative and Labour MPs.
Every parliamentarian is held to have one moment, one defining speech, that will form the core of how they are remembered. The House wondered if now was Kingsley Wood’s. He seemed to hope so, adopting a more confident air than he had ever shown before. “I think that all of us who were present at this morning's ceremony realised that His Majesty symbolises not merely the great traditions of our imperial past, but the hopes of what may be an even more enlightened future. It is with regret that His Majesty,” Fitzroy started, jolted upright, “was, for whatever reason, indisposed. One can only wonder at the perilous burden borne by the Crown. We are pleased that he has the strength of support from his loyal advisors.” There was laughter here, too, although more muted than the earlier quip. “I of course appreciate the compliment which has been paid me in having been asked to second the Address this afternoon, and I am conscious that it will be much appreciated not only by my own constituency but by all in South East London. For many years the runner up in my constituency has been a Labour candidate, although I thank them for not yet pipping me to the post.”
“The component parts of London are classed by many economists as among the most prosperous towns of the country, though I confess that when I see the less fortunate of my constituents and observe the conditions under which they are still living, I exclaim to myself that we must continue our recovery. London, nevertheless, was prosperous under an enlightened and progressive National Government…”
“…Conservative led!” That was a voice from the Opposition backbenches.” Fitzroy went to intervene but there were no further outbursts.
“Conservative led,” Kingsley Wood allowed, “who not only promote growth and stability but look to give our people a social and economic life and amenities such as few cities can possess. London is not complacent in her prosperity. More must and will be done to better the lives of those entrusting us with their vote. That is why the speech by my Honourable Friend the Member for Wood Green is so deficient. I do not blame him, but those dark, controlling forces who seek to gain from this crisis, for the great insincerity of thought to domestic legislation referred to in the Gracious Speech. There is no legislative programme, no vision for our nation, proposed by the Government. It is a rare moment, a reflection, an admission, of the paralysis that this House has endured for three months.”
The Opposition benches were noisy, rowdy, agreeing with the points being solidly, if unspectacularly put. Clement Attlee, birdlike at his perch at the front of the Labour benches, was nodding his agreement. “I am now supposed, by convention, to turn my attention to foreign affairs. As is customary, His Majesty’s address declared that our relations with foreign powers continue to be friendly. But nothing has been done by this Government, a quarter of a year in which France is passing at this moment a delicate transition period, or in which British influence has waned as the Sino-Japanese negotiations wind on. They will, we on these benches hope, lead to a successful conclusion and that the clouds which have so long hung over the Far East will be lifted, but Britain is curiously absent from that important sphere of influence. As regards Italy, that vital country, let us recognise that the Italian people have not forgotten old memories of our friendship and respect, and that they still accord us when we visit them that charming hospitality to which we have been accustomed, and still welcome us as honoured guests. It would be foolish nonetheless were we to derive from these favourable symptoms the impression that the anxieties and perplexities which assail this country were in any way unjustified or exaggerated. I believe that these anxieties are due not merely to events abroad, but to an uncertainty as to what the policy of this country ought really to be, and I believe even more that the perplexities are due to the fact that we are conscious as never before that the old firm unity of British opinion in foreign affairs is no longer as reliable as it was. I think the Gracious Speech is, again, deficient where it could have provided definite and clear objectives, and it will instead go far to heighten anxieties.”
“Many of you will have read, in this morning’s
Times, the letter by my Right Honourable Friend the Leader of the Opposition. Through a long and arduous journey all his life he has helped to save a great party and to forge a great Coalition, a man who, when the acrid dust of controversy has settled down, will emerge as a statesman of peculiar vision, as a politician of unsullied integrity; as an organiser of great persistence and as a human being who has faced the ordeal of resounding triumph and of resounding discomfiture with a dignity which is given him by a sturdy tradition of service tradition and a Christian faith. And I am grateful for his wisdom at this time.”
With the formalities (although these were as unconventional as anyone could remember), the debate proper started. One by one, the Opposition MPs, Conservative, Labour, Irish, a few Liberals, described the shame of the nation and the outrage felt by them, and by their constituents. Here and there a brave Government MP spoke up, John Llwellin vainly trying to appeal to ‘the right to love’ before being slapped down by Harold MacMillan (himself cuckolded) declaring that the King ought to ‘consider that which would be obvious to any junior orderly officer, namely his duty’. MacMillan was followed by a seedy sounding Bob Boothby (the aforementioned cuckold), who scorned MacMillan’s ‘perverted sense of chateau general honour’, before a feeble attempt by Douglas Clifton Brown to focus the House on the speech itself (he failed). Next up was Archibald Sinclair; Fitzroy hoped that, having vented some spleen, and having done it colourfully, some order could be restored.
"The whole country and the Empire have been passing through days of stress and tension, and the climax to which events have now marched has aroused in all of us the deepest feelings of grief and frustration. We are bound to our King not only by formal and solemn ties, by our oaths of allegiance and by our recognition of the Crown as the link which unites all the peoples of the Empire, but also by those closer and more personal links which the Leader of the Opposition has so simply and so eloquently described in his writings today, and which the King has forged between himself and his people, people of all classes, of all creeds and of all races in every part of his Dominions, during nearly a quarter of a century of Royal service as Prince of Wales and now King. The strains upon those ties is profoundly painful to us all. It is painful to us who, during these brief months of challenge, have been his Ministers and confidential advisers; above all, to the Prime Minister, his closest and most intimate adviser, who deserves our sympathy. Let us also gratefully and respectfully acclaim the political wisdom which His Majesty has shown in allowing this House to meet. It is in large measure due to His Majesty's wise and strong restraint, and to his recognition of the supremacy of Parliament and the constitutional responsibility of Ministers, that the Crown has maintained some distance from our political controversies, and remains above and aloof from them…” the Opposition benches exploded in fury. Chamberlain shook his head and raised his eyes heavenward. More than one Government MP muttered that Sinclair had lost his mind.
Fitzroy restored a measure of quiet. Sinclair rose to his feet again. “I think it is only right to tell the House that I have wrestled with my conscience. I too believed that I could not have a morganatic marriage, believing that it was not only the law of our country but it was also, I believed, a sound, healthy and essential element in the monarchial principle itself, that the lady whom the King marries must become Queen and share with him, before the whole people, the glorious burden of sovereignty. But times, Mr Speaker, are changing. We have a King, proven in service to his people, who could be greater still if this personal matter could be resolved, once and for all. In my judgment the Government had no option but to try and secure this proposal. No man deserves more the generous sympathy and support of the British people at this time than the King. He has enjoyed all of the opportunities which long tenure of the dignity of Prince of Wales usually affords the Heir to the Throne, of becoming well known to the people of this country; but he has worked hard for this and his many good causes. None can doubt his sincerity in his personal matters and his high sense of public duty.”
Fitzroy’s furious expression showed that he was about to call Sinclair to sit, so the Liberal leader made one more point. “For my own part, I doubt whether under any system of Government a crisis of this gravity could be solved with as little disturbance to the body politic as under our system of constitutional monarchy. This, at any rate, is certain, that the prompt action which the King himself has enjoined upon us will best serve the dignity of the Throne, the reputation of our Parliamentary institutions and the happiness, prosperity and peace of the British people.”
The debate flowed, Fitzroy adjourning at a late hour to resume the next day.
====
GAME NOTES
The readAARship will forgive me from stopping at the end of the debate and before we kill off the Lloyd George Government entirely, but this was becoming something of an epic and I wanted to give each development its due attention.
To the ceremony of the State Opening of Parliament, and I have tried to cling, with a mix of brevity and attention where I thought it was due, to the formula that was (and to a significant extent
is used) in the Sovereign addressing their Parliament. Much of it (particularly the door slamming nonsense) is derived from the English Civil War, while the surrounding pomp (the Horse and Life Guards riding down the Mall with the Monarch, the robes etc) is largely Victorian/artifice. The Monarch traditionally attends, although the requirement for that is largely convention and other figures (usually the Lord Chancellor, although in this TL Lloyd George didn’t really have one) can step in and deliver the Address on the Monarch’s behalf. Certainly, when QEII was indisposed (through pregnancy) the Lord Chancellor stepped in, and seemingly without controversy. The real speech from the OTL November 1936 address was the basis for the King’s words (delivered in this TL by Percy), and they traditionally focus on a range of domestic and foreign priorities. The problem in this TL, of course, is that every MP has been focussing on survival, Lloyd George’s loose coalition is now hopelessly divided, and absolutely nothing has been debated and passed by Parliament, which was closed almost immediately after Lloyd George took office. I suspect that this was one of the shortest addresses in Parliamentary history.
There is, of course, a debate afterward, and the reply to the address (with a Government proposer and Opposition MP seconding) is usually gentle and rather elegiac; it is routine to bring in, as I had Kingsley Wood do, one’s home town or constituency. I have stretched convention by having the debate slide, so swiftly, into an argumentative contest, but I suspect that Fitzroy would have little choice when even Government MPs are flouting the guidance.
The rules around mention of the Crown generally, and more specifically the Sovereign (or his/her consort and children) in Parliament often seem clear but are open to huuuuuuge swings of interpretation. The rule on mentioning royals can be found in paragraph 22.15 of Erskine May’s pompous tome, which states:
‘No question can be put which brings the name of the Sovereign or the influence of the Crown directly before Parliament, or which casts reflections upon the Sovereign or the royal family. A question has been altered at the Speaker’s direction on the ground that the name of the Sovereign should not be introduced to affect the views of the House. Questions are, however, allowed on such matters as the costs to public funds of royal events and royal palaces.’ If any of the UK ReadAARs saw
Question Time a few weeks ago, this was crisply (and pompously) used by the Secretary of State for Wales to completely refuse to engage on the current Duke of York scandal. Keir Starmer (for non-UK ReadAARs, he leads the Labour Party, the largest party in Opposition) was also slapped down during a recent PMQs for raising a contrast between our beleaguered PM and the example shown by QEII. And yet…
This rule has been treated with nothing like the reverence that many would have you believe. A traipse through HANSARD shows that this rule has a degree of elasticity; the implosion of the marriages of the Duke of York (him again!) and Prince of Wales to their respective princesses did merit a degree of Parliamentary discussion in the early 90s. Similarly, in the OTL 1936 while Parliament avoided any official discussion of Edward and Wallis until it was frankly all over, the debate that followed the decision to abdicate was, well, remarkable, and formed the basis of many of the quotations happily plagiarised for this update. I have therefore taken the view that much depends on the willingness of the Speaker, the party leaders and Parliamentary consensus, and thus had Fitzroy, facing a hopeless task with this oddest of debates, allow a measure of discussion while maintaining a veneer of decorum.
All of the characters in this update really existed, some (DLG, Monckton, Percy, Chamberlain, Halifax, Attlee to a point, Sassoon, Hoare, Sinclair, Margesson) have all featured previously. Of those that haven’t Baxter and Kingsley Wood were, respectively, a Beaverbrook employee and a slightly wry Parliamentarian. They did not, OTL, propose and second and the reply to the throne but I went with plausible candidates reflecting the aims of the two sides. I originally went for Boothby (for the DLG administration) and Macmillan (although his antipathy to Chamberlain would be an obstacle) but thought it too convenient given their messy sharing of Dorothy Macmillan. Colville as the intermediary was a bit of a throwaway act, I vaguely remember a reference to him acting as a go-between from Winston to Baldwin during the India debates in 1935 and drew a parallel for this scenario.
And then, in a UK political AAR, two real years and (nearly) one game year in, we have our first meeting with the Speaker of the Commons. Fitzroy is, from what I can gather, remembered as one of the safer, more efficient Speakers; certainly he abhorred the celebrity that some recent Speakers (cough Bercow cough) have coveted and acted staunchly in the interests of the MPs. I don’t think that he is remembered fondly; to misquote the common analysis made of Wellington, he was respected rather than loved. What he, as a descendant of Charles II and his mistress Nell Gwynne, made of Edward VIII’s adventure is worth a chapter on its own.
Onward we go, DLG is nearly done for…
In fairness, my own work maintains the loosest possible relationship to Vicky 2. So it’s probably not a bad shout if one wants the Vicky experience without any of… the Vicky experience. Just so long as you can stomach Oswald Mosley, of course…
Your AAR is wonderfully written work, and worth it for
@El Pip's reactions...
Walked into the sea. Or shot himself in the woods.
Or busy filming the next series of Peaky Blinders.
Ummm… this is either the second or third update in a row in where the absence of Churchill in scene is evident. I’m starting to get real Chekhov’s Gun vibes from the situation. Only issue is that with Churchill, when he finally makes his reappearance, the range of possibilities is everything from suicide, to re-ratting for the third time, to making an utter ass of himself, to replacing Lloyd-George as prime minister, to having some player shot for the good of the country, to couping the entire government and opposition with a mob assembled from his pub pals… or even all of the above at once.
I deliberately 'rested' Churchill for a few reasons. There is a seductive attraction to having Churchill as either a misguided adventurer or the saviour of Western civilisation; the truth is that he is human, and I wanted to show that although he has rather impressively screwed up by supporting the King, he has, at least, finally done the right thing. I also, frankly, wanted an air of mystery on Winston's likely actions to add to the drama of this, his abandonment of Lloyd George.
I don't know the terms of the naval treaties in HoI4, but assuming they are historical then I'd ask whether the 14" caliber limit is a part of the treaty. In our history there were escalator clauses that allowed everyone to move up to a 16" gun. This permitted the US to upgrade the North Carolina class to 16" at the price of somewhat slower speed (27 knots versus the KGV 29-30) and thinner armor (proof against 14" shells rather than 16"). The King George V class were a little farther along in development and Britain had not started developing a new 16" gun, so the KGVs kept the 14" gun. If Britain were willing to make some design changes then a newer version of Nelson with a modern engineering plant, 9x16" guns and armor protection against 14" caliber should be do-able on the treaty-limit 35,000 tons.
Barring that, Britain could offer the US the 'concession' of retaining the 14" gun and moving to a 12-gun battery (as was planned for the KGVs).
I do doubt that Britain would re-use the 16" gun from the Nelson class. It was an exceptional piece - in that it was an exception to the standard of other British guns, being developed along German lines to equal the supposed superiority of German naval guns in WW1. It was a relatively light-weight gun, firing a lightweight, high-velocity round, which - while superior in penetrating power to the older 15" - had increased barrel wear and issues with accuracy over long ranges, as fast, lightweight shells tend to suffer more from wind. Standard British practice of using a heavier, lower-velocity weapon gives better economy, hitting power and accuracy. Plus, there simply aren't any of those barrels laying about and the manufacturing plant for them certainly no longer exists, so there is no time penalty for designing a new weapon as opposed to trying to build more of the old - rather as we find it is easier and better to design a new rocket rather than try to make more Saturn Vs.
One possibility would be for the RN to do what they had successfully done before. The 13.5" gun of WW1 was simply 'scaled up' to quickly produce a 15" version, which turned out to be one of the best naval rifles of all time. Scaling that gun up to 16", or lengthening the barrel a bit for a higher caliber 15" weapon, should be do-able pretty quickly. I give you the US Navy's Iowa debacle as another example (the guns they intended to use were the wrong size for the turret housings - oops! - and a new 16" had to be developed with utmost speed).
The problems of having Channon in place in the Admiralty become apparent, that entire exchange should have been handled much better. The escalator clause in the treaty kicks in April 1937, barely four months after the date of this meeting, and there is no way anything actually non-compliant will be built or laid down in that time. The correct response therefore should have been to say that new battleships are indeed being designed if the Japanese and Italians don't sign the naval treaties and that the British government is sure the Americans are making similar provisions (which they were). Cruisers are a bit trickier, but there are plenty of "national security" clauses in the treaty to cover reacting to other Powers shipbuilding. The Admiralty were well aware Japan and Italy was breaking the treaties with their heavy cruisers and they can also point at the German build up which had not been contemplated in 1930. Certainly there is a case that could be made, disappointing but not surprising that it wasn't.
So I think that the DLG government (and it is arguable about whether such a thing ever existed in deed beyond some minor titling) never really knew what it wanted; hence the confusing messaging and diplomatic blunders. Does it want to build more ships, or bigger (or indeed, more and bigger)? It's not, really, clear, beyond a Churchill desire to build a new batch of heavy cruisers and limiting the Marlboroughs (the OTL KGVs - oh do keep up) to a class of two, to be followed, idc, by a new class of 16"s. As has been said, by Washington/London terms that is hardly armageddon, and none of this has been signed off by Cabinet. Dealing with this will be a headache for whomever is running the UK when the dust settles.
Interesting facts on the Plymouth Committee, I was unaware of it but it sounds like a rare example of competent work from the Foreign Office, perhaps because they were minimally involved? Certainly a stark contrast to the mess of SIS at this point, there is still time to fix it but is there the will (and the funds) to do so? Finally I must mention the reminder that Chamberlain did have his good points, not least a realistic and honest assessment of the American government (something a certain Mr Churchill should have learnt from).
Sighs. You've been watching Munich: Edge of War on Netflix haven't you.
Kidding. On the Plymouth Committee, it really was a decent effort by the British and I struggle to see (as did Vansittart in the last update) what more could be done. The British made some bold and entirely sound conclusions, asked some questions which the Germans just couldn't answer, and the whole notion of colonial appeasement was put into a state of quarantine / purdah (and rightly) by the British.
On Neville, despite that bloody film (I mean, Jeremy Irons as Neville? Oh purlease), I remain not-a-fan. The obvious errors, I do accept that he did a lot, not just as Chancellor. I even think that some of assessments of the European challenges were sound enough. It's just what he did with those assessments that horrifies.
The interesting bit about Neville is that he never led a General Election campaign (we're about to change that). Given some of the unsavoury methods used OTL against opponents of appeasement, it is fair to say that this will be a nasty campaign. I am genuinely intrigued to see how he comes across as a potential national leader.
It is odd how the British and Amercian governments keep getting their assements of each other wildly incorrect. Especially as real politik ensures that the two are almost always on the same side.
We'll look at that. In 1938, sadly...
One simply doesn’t blurt in such meetings. Channon is committing a nigh unpardonable sin of statecraft here. I’m minded of Vito Corleone telling off Sonny after the latter gobs off in a meeting with the other Families.
As well he might. But the real rocket should be delivered after the meeting, in private, so as not to compound the gaffe.
Trust Chamberpot to revive such a thing: I wasn’t aware of this little historical nugget. It simply reinforces the general disdain I already held for his foreign policy approach. Egregious.
Yeah, Channon is a fool. Thankfully I suspect he's about to become an ex-MP.
Being on the same side is hardly a guarantee to work in coordination. De Gaulle and Churchill comes to my mind at once, dunno why.
Of course, one can cuestion that De Gaulle sided with Churchill or FDR during the war.
Ah, De Gaulle. Not much to say. A horrid character who behaved horribly. He put his country first, I guess.
Well, quite a lot of the French were explicitly on the axis side. And the free French leadership were not particularly helpful allies. The resistance was.
Here we go...
... not much use either because it was so heavily infiltrated by the Gestapo and because most ordinary French people informed on it out of fear of German reprisals?
Good.
Lies! They drank wine and rang telephones and machine gunned german officers at cafes! And then drank more wine, because they're French!
Look. What
did happen to the 'Fallen Madonna with ze big boobies'?
Or the 'Van Klomp with ze big daisies'?
Those were some tense meetings. It does beg the question. If Hoare calls of the overtures to Franco, what will happen to Churchill's nephew?
Looking forward to the new British Navy.
Ah, don't worry. That's coming up, if anything to keep me sane in a politically-filled bit of the AAR.
As an aside, I have played a fair bit of the war. I don't know if anyone has a connection with the British 4th Division - they've had a pretty horrible time of it. Coming up, just God knows when.
