GREAT BRITAIN: Benediction

Moonfaced, middle-aged and wearing a shabby black jacket, a north of England “poor man’s” clergyman appeared at the gates of the Château de Cande last week and recited a little piece:

“I volunteered to conduct this ceremony. No permission has been asked or given. I did not consult any ecclesiastical authority. I consulted only my own conscience. I know that the Duke of Windsor and Mrs. Warfield strongly desired a religious ceremony. When I made my offer it was accepted by the Duke. It was an entirely voluntary offer on my part.”

The Rev. Robert Anderson Jardine, vicar of St. Paul’s, Darlington, was the little clergyman’s name. The story that he was very anxious for the press to believe was that of all the little clergymen in Britain who have chafed at their bishops’ treatment of the Duke of Windsor, he alone thought of writing to Monts to offer his services to the Duke, whom he had never met. Explained Vicar Jardine’s wife:

“He thought it a terrible thing, that the Duke should be denied what was open to any other Englishman—a religious ceremony at his wedding. . . . We dared not tell a soul except a church warden who was bound to secrecy. I believe my husband would not mind if he were forced to leave the church. We sent the servants away, closed the house and came to London.”

A few Londoners sniffed a more devious trail leading to the sudden appearance of little Vicar Jardine at Monts last week. It is well known that one of the things that has most distressed Queen Mary in recent weeks has been the blunt refusal of grim Cosmo Gordon Lang, Archbishop of Canterbury & Primate of All England, to allow any form of Church of England service at the wedding of her favorite son. It also happens that the bishop to whom Vicar Jardine owes allegiance is the Right Rev. Herbert Hensley Henson. Bishop of Durham, a noted liberal, longtime opponent of the Archbishop of Canterbury and one of the few bishops openly to support Novelist A. P. Herbert’s liberalized divorce law. Just before the Coronation at which, as one of the King’s supporters, he gazed for hours straight into the face of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of Durham announced that he felt it disgraceful that Roman Catholics and Non-Conformists were allowed to play no part in such an Empire celebration.

Immediately after the abdication of Edward, it was Durham’s bishop who bitterly remarked:

“I was always trained to believe that the Church of England is governed by the several bishops reigning in their several dioceses. I now find it is come to be some kind of novel body governed by the British Broadcasting Corp. and by two archbishops, Canterbury and York. I do not like it.” As soon as news of Vicar Jardine’s bold gesture became known, however, the bold Bishop of Durham insisted that he had had nothing to do with it, would have strongly disapproved had he been consulted. But he pointed out that British clergymen on the Continent are outside their normal dioceses.

The bishop responsible for the actions of Anglican clergymen in France is Right Rev. Basil Staunton Batty, Bishop of Fulham. He was summoned to a hasty and secret conference with the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth Palace. Few hours later Bishop Batty made a statement:

“A telegram has been sent to Jardine telling him that he is without episcopal license or consent to solemnize the marriage. Jardine is what is known as a presbyter vagans (wandering priest). His position in this ceremony is that of a private person who has been invited to say prayers. He is incapable in these circumstances of legally solemnizing the marriage.”

Technically, what the presbyter vagans did by reading the marriage service was to pronounce a benediction. But first, while some 48 assembled guests waited in the château music room, and while famed Organist Marcel Dupré played softly on the château organ, the civil marriage took place in the main salon nearby. With a brand-new red, white & blue sash wrapped round his stomach, the 46-year-old mayor of Monts, Dr. Charles Mercier, was noticeably nervous, forgot to bring with him the Livret de Famille, official handbook on how to raise a family that is the French Republic’s official present to all marrying couples. The mayor made a speech, the register was signed and the civil ceremony, witnessed by but seven souls, was over in five minutes.

In the music room an altar had been hastily improvised on an old oak chest on which stood a gold cross and two yellow tapers. By it in a clean white surplice stood the Rev. R. Anderson Jardine awaiting the greatest moment in his life. Hollow-eyed, the Duke of Windsor stepped in a moment later, accompanied by his elegantly groomed best man, Major Edward Dudley (“Fruity”) Metcalfe. While Organist Dupré played the march from Handel’s Judas Maccabeus, entered (Bessie) Wallis Warfield (Spencer) (Simpson) on the arm of the faithful Herman Rogers. She wore a dress that most U. S. department stores were soon to feature: soft blue crepe with a tight, buttoned bodice, a halo-shaped hat of the same color, shoes and gloves to match. At her throat was a tremendous diamond-&-sapphire brooch. Mrs. Warfield carried a prayer book, had no bouquet but wore a large lavender orchid at her waist.

Only two incidents disturbed the ceremony. When Vicar Jardine asked, ”Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her?” overwrought Edward cried “I will!” in a shrill voice that was almost a scream. When he put on her finger the plain wedding ring of Welsh-mined gold that has become a tradition in the British Royal Family, the trembling of his hands was noticeable even to the farthest watchers.

Later there were champagne, salad and a few speeches. To tactful Herman Rogers, unofficial press minister of the affair, combined newshawks presented a gold fountain pen. His last official statement was a request: “Please do not follow them.” The Duke & Duchess of Windsor climbed into their limousine, were driven by George Ladbrooke, the Duke’s chauffeur for 17 years, disappeared through the château gates. Ahead of them went 226 pieces of luggage, including 183 trunks.

Newshawks did not have to follow the honeymooners to a destination everyone knew. But a few had secured compartments on the same Simplon-Orient express to which the ducal car had been attached and as the train rolled southeast across France they brought each other word that the private car contained one large double bed, covered with the usual Thomas Cook & Sons-Wagon Lits brown blanket—and a complete bathroom. Later reports announced that the Duke was going to bed in a pair of bright red pajamas, that he had early tea alone, that both Duke & Duchess enjoyed a hearty “bacon & egg breakfast.

In Venice, where the train stopped for several hours, the Duke & Duchess went for a motorboat ride, strolled in the gardens of the Hotel Excelsior at the Lido and were showered with flowers from Fascists anxious to do their little best to enrage the Chamberlain Government. Edward Windsor was reported to have given the Fascist salute.

Other reporters were waiting when the royal honeymooners reached Wasserloenburg Castle in Austria. The moon was shining as the Duke carried his Duchess over the threshold. Watchers at the gate heard her laugh shrilly. Next morning she removed some stag horns and elephant tusks from the walls, conferred busily with her housekeeper.

His great day over, back to England went the little Vicar of St. Paul’s, Darlington, with a new pair of gold cuff links in his shirt, royal signatures in his prayer book. Both the Bishop of Fulham and the Bishop of Durham let it be known that he would not be punished. The Archbishop of Canterbury, however, found himself more unpopular than he had been for years. Even newspapers that backed him in the original Abdication crisis scored what they called the “unChristian attitude of certain prelates.” One story the Archbishop told on himself: at Lambeth Palace recently an unknown voice on the telephone asked to speak to the Archbishop. Dr. Lang answered in person.

“I am the public conscience of Great Britain . . .” boomed the voice.

“I was not disposed to listen further,” said the Archbishop, “so I rang off.”