War of Succession

Compelled by sympathy and the necessity of the moment, Britain's Queen reversed the customary ritual. Instead of waiting for her retiring Prime Minister to call upon her and advise her of his choice as a successor, Elizabeth II rode across London to King Edward VII Hospital. There, in a peacock-green coat and matching hat, she sat in an armchair facing the high, white hospital bed. Harold Macmillan, recuperating from his prostate operation and cranked up to a sitting position, wore blue and white pajamas. In such unlikely surroundings Elizabeth received Macmillan's even more unlikely nomination for Prime Minister: Alexander Frederick Douglas-Home, Earl of Home, Baron Home, Baron Dunglass and Baron Douglas.

If Elizabeth was surprised, so were her subjects. After half an hour's conversation with Macmillan the Queen returned to Buckingham Palace, passing through a waiting crowd at the gates. A few minutes later a black Humber approached along the Mall. The man in the rear seat was a stranger; a private detective, it turned out. But the faintly smiling, aristocratically fair features of the man beside the driver were familiar enough. "It's Lord Home!" came the amazed shouts. "Astonishing!" gasped Lord Beaverbrook's Evening Standard.

Macmillan had reached back over years of blurring class lines to present Britain with a belted earl of a Prime Minister, an elegantly casual product of the cricket wickets of Eton, a toothy, grouse-shooting, extremely U member of the Establishment. Facing elections, he had placed his Conservative Party in the hands of a member of the House of Lords who has not had to run for elective office since he inherited his title twelve years ago.

Rusk for President. In selecting Home, Macmillan passed over three far more likely candidates: R. A. Butler, 60, deputy to Britain's last three Conservative Prime Ministers, rebuilder of Tory Party fortunes and everlasting heir apparent to the No. 1 post; Lord Hailsham, 56, the grandiloquent Minister for Science, who gaudily flipped his coronet into the ring, emotionally promising to renounce his title to become Quintin Hogg, M.P., in hopes of becoming P.M.; and Reginald Maudling, 46, the darling of the Conservative backbenches and brainy Chancellor of the Exchequer. An exact U.S. parallel of what Macmillan did would be impossible to draw; the closest approximation would be if a seriously ill President Kennedy had passed over Vice President Lyndon Johnson, House Speaker John McCormack and Senate President protem Carl Hayden to install Secretary of State Dean Rusk in the White House-all without an election.

Macmillan's choice was based at least in part on his will, but not on whim. It followed a week-long Conservative Party conference, plus the mysterious Tory ritual by which the visceral wishes of party members, great and small, are gathered, interpreted and closely read for omens.

In the days leading up to the decision, virtually the entire Conservative Party structure was polled, from village leaders to Cabinet members. Lord Dilhorne, Lord Chancellor and therefore Speaker of the House of Lords, sounded out the Cabinet, calling not only for first choices but for second and last choices as well. And at twelve regional Tory offices, batteries of party workers telephoned each of the Conservatives' 620 constituency branches.

Late Gallup. Hailsham was the first to be eliminated, vetoed by Cabinet members who acknowledged his brilliance but questioned his judgment and stability. Though eminently qualified, Rab Butler suffered from a lackluster public personality and from the elusive but real hostility of many top Conservatives who still vaguely wish that Britain had won through to victory at Suez and cannot forget the notion--never entirely proved or disproved--that Butler was against the adventure. Also working against Butler was the fact that, even though their beliefs and policies are similarly progressive, he and Macmillan have never cottoned to each other. A strong point in Butler's favor--a Gallup poll showing him to be as strong a prime-ministerial candidate as Labor's Harold Wilson--did not reach print until the Tory Party polling was done.

Although many backbenchers stuck steadfastly to Maudling, there was a feeling that he was too young (46) and not quite ready for the top job. That left Home. Though he had some strong support, basically he was everybody's second choice. Explained one Tory M.P. later: "I would never have put Home as No. 2 if I'd thought for one moment that the accumulation of No. 2s could have this effect." When the party soundings were presented to him in his hospital room, Macmillan decided that Home was the compromise candidate who would put the least strain on the Conservatives' internal party ties.

The aim was to avoid bitterness; the result, at least for the moment, was to increase it. After word of Home's choice leaked out at White's Club, a small group of Tory chiefs gathered with Reggie Maudling to dine at the home of Health Minister Enoch Powell and to plot resistance. Just as grimly, Butler dug in his heels. Across Britain, feelings hardened behind both men. There was a widespread suspicion that, despite the elaborate soundings taken, Home had been put over against the party majority's wishes. Humphrey Berkeley, Tory M.P. for Lancaster, spoke for many when he complained that "the Conservative Party has been engaged for the past week in a charade. I cannot think of any system of direct selection which would have secured Lord Home's emergence as the man to lead the party."

Unkissed Hand. Well aware of the opposition to him, Home carefully refrained from kissing the Queen's hand at his morning audience. Such a gesture by a Prime Minister-designate traditionally implies confidence that he can form a government. Instead, he returned to No. 10 Downing Street to confront his colleagues and his foes. Blank-faced, unsmiling and uncommunicative, they began coming by.

Maudling popped out from the Treasury, just across the street from No. 10; Butler, a grim rider in a black Daimler, was momentarily roused from introspection by the cheers of the crowd; Hailsham, reportedly the hardest-dying, refused to say anything about anything. They came and went, as the sun set and the TV lights rose, then came and went again. Lord Privy Seal Edward Heath went on BBC television to praise Home's "integrity, clarity, judgment and perseverance" and to hope "that all our colleagues will be able to serve with him." Selwyn Lloyd insisted "he will make an outstanding Prime Minister." Heading for home and bed just before midnight, Home could only be sure that "I shall be starting work again tomorrow morning."

That night R. A. Butler faced his decision. He and his tearful wife Mollie returned to their suite at the ornate, Edwardian St. Ermin's Hotel. Some time between a Scotch nightcap and dawn, Politician Butler surveyed the situation with all his political acumen and concluded that he simply did not have sufficient support inside the party to carry through the rebellion. He also knew, as he told friends later, that either decision, to fight on or to quit, would be criticized, but he decided to give up rather than seriously damage the Tory Party.

Next morning, arriving on the steps of No. 10, Home had a bright wish: "I hope everyone on this fine Saturday morning can forget about politics, except me." Not a chance. Back came Butler to surrender. Then, at last, the hour of glory: Home's appearance on the doorstep, his smiling announcement that he was off to see the Queen, the quiet talk with Elizabeth in the Buckingham Palace audience chamber as sun softened the palace gardens and a military band played for the changing of the guard in the forecourt. Had he been able to form a government? Replied Lord Home: "Yes, I have, and I have kissed hands with the Queen on my appointment as Prime Minister."

Outwardly at least came the inevitable closing of the ranks. This week Home announced his new Cabinet containing the solid Tories, including Butler (named Foreign Secretary), Hailsham and Maudling (in their old jobs) and Heath (named President of the Board of Trade). Missing: Iain Macleod, co-chairman of the Tory Party, one of the rebels who could not reconcile himself to the way Home was chosen.

His Cabinet formed, Home must now overcome as best he can the deep divisions that the power struggle left in the Tory Party and get down to the business of running the country. But he must also prepare for next year's election, in which the Tories, after twelve years in power, face the eager Laborites--and the 14th earl faces that aggressive working-class champion, Harold Wilson. Right now, the odds are overwhelmingly against Home. But whatever else he did, Harold Macmillan did not mean to pick a loser.

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