One hundred years ago this month, King George V had to find a new prime minister very quickly.

The incumbent, the Conservative Andrew Bonar Law, who had only had the job for seven months, was diagnosed at the age of 64 with throat cancer, which was already in its latter stages.

Bonar Law, who was to die six months later, was not told the full truth about his condition, but it was obvious he could not carry on any longer . A letter of resignation was delivered to the King on 20 May 1923 during the Whitsun bank holiday weekend. Bonar Law said he was too ill to give the monarch the customary advice to assist the choice of his successor.

The King had to manage as best he could, assisted by his ardently Tory private secretary, Lord Stamfordham, who collected the opinions of party grandees. No one came forward with the helpful suggestion that the Conservatives should swiftly select a new leader, who could then take over as prime minister. Another forty years would pass before that idea took hold.

One man stood out as the obvious successor on grounds of ability and experience. Lord Curzon had first made his mark years earlier as one of the finest Indian viceroys. In 1923, after four years as Foreign Secretary, he was regarded throughout Europe as a masterly diplomat, who produced solutions to acute international problems. Somehow he had also found  the time to be Leader of the Lords and Bonar Law’s deputy.

Curzon was brilliant, but unloved. He was nicknamed the All Highest by his cabinet colleagues because of his grand lifestyle and insufferable arrogance in domestic politics.

No one looked forward to him becoming prime minister, but his appointment was widely seen for a time as inevitable. Bonar Law would not recommend him to the King, and yet felt that “ he would on the whole be disinclined to pass over Curzon”. As for Curzon himself, “ it never occurred to him that any alternative could exist”, as his former cabinet colleague, Lord Crawford, noted in his diary.

It was inconceivable to Curzon that Stanley Baldwin, the only other candidate, could be a serious rival. To the All Highest he was “ a man of the utmost insignificance.” After 15 years as an MP, Baldwin, then aged 55, had no achievements to match Curzon’s. Appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer a few months earlier, he had agreed to settle Britain’s war debts with the United States on terms which horrified Bonar Law and almost the entire cabinet.

But Baldwin did not irritate people in the way that Curzon did. He benefited above all from being in the Commons. This proved decisive. Almost everyone consulted by the King told him that peers were not acceptable as prime ministers in modern Britain with its mass electorate created in 1918. The Labour Party, now the official opposition, had no members in the Lords.

The point was underlined in an anonymous paper which the Palace was led to believe had Bonar Law’s approval. “The subordination of the House of Commons”, the paper argued, “would be most strongly resented, not only by the Conservative Party as a whole but by every shade of democratic opinion in the country.”

Years later, the author of the paper was unmasked as John Davidson, Baldwin’s right-hand man. Bonar Law was unaware of it. Baldwin himself may well have been ignorant of this blatant attempt to influence the King for his benefit.

The devious Davidson, grandfather of Baroness (Anne) Jenkin, need not have worried. The King had already concluded that it was “imperative that he should appoint a prime minister from the House of Commons.” He also shared the general dislike of Curzon.

Just two days after receiving Bonar Law’s resignation unaccompanied by any advice as to his successor, the King made Stanley Baldwin his new prime minister on 22 May 1923.

Lord Lexden

You can find the original article published by The House magazine here.

Tomorrow former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher’s funeral will take place at St Paul’s Cathedral. Public funerals for Prime Ministers have been fairly rare in recent years, but Baroness Thatcher is by no means alone in receiving this honour from the state.

The first Prime Minister to have a public funeral was William Pitt the Elder (1708-1778). The Commons agreed unanimously that the funeral should take place in Westminster Abbey, despite some calls for him to be buried in St Paul’s, and the cost covered by the public. Pitt lay in state for two days at Westminster and thousands came to pay their respects. His son, William Pitt the Younger, was honoured in the same way; after his sudden death in 1806 he too lay in state before being buried with his family in Westminster Abbey. In addition to the cost of the funeral itself, the public purse also covered his debts, which came to £40,000.

Westminster Abbey was also the venue for George Canning’s funeral in 1827, again attended by huge crowds, and for that of Lord Palmerston, who died from pneumonia in 1865.  You can view an image of his hearse leaving Brockett Hall on the St Albans museums website and read a full account of his funeral from the Brisbane Courier. The four-time Prime Minister William Gladstone, who died from cancer on 19 May 1898, was also buried in Westminster Abbey after three days of lying in state; simultaneous services were held across the Empire and world to mark his death. (For a full account of his funeral, see this article from H.C.G. Matthew).

Some of the largest state funerals were reserved for Prime Ministers who were also war leaders, such as Winston Churchill (1965) and the Duke of Wellington (1852). Both lay in state for several days, Churchill in Westminster Hall and Wellington at Walmer Castle and Chelsea Hospital, and millions turned out to pay their respects to both men. Wellington’s funeral was considered ‘probably the most ornate and spectacular funeral ever seen in England’, and he was buried at St Paul’s (for a longer account of Wellington’s ceremony and several images, see this article on the Victorian Web). After his state funeral, Churchill was buried in a private family service in the village of Bladon.

Other twentieth-century Prime Ministers honoured with a public funeral include Henry Campbell Bannerman, who died in 10 Downing Street in 1908. He received generous tributes in the House (you can read these in Hansard) , an ‘impressive’ service at Westminster Abbey and, again, crowds of mourners paying their respects before he was buried in Meigle churchyard. Parliament honoured his memory with a memorial in Westminster Abbey. Andrew Bonar Law, who died in 1923 after a short period as Prime Minister, was given a service in Westminster Abbey against his wishes (he had wanted to be buried with his wife in Helensburgh). This was not an uncontroversial move, as his old enemy Herbert Asquith was said to remark ‘we have buried the Unknown Prime Minister by the side of the Unknown Soldier.’

Finally, the first Labour Prime Minister, Ramsay MacDonald, was given a public funeral in Westminster Abbey after he died at sea in November 1937. Although his family were offered a place in the Abbey for his interment, his ashes were taken to Scotland and buried with the body of his wife. A memorial now stands in Westminster Abbey.

EP

All quotations thanks to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, and thanks to Dr Paul Seaward and Dr Kathryn Rix for links and suggestions.