`HE COULD HAVE DONE IT ON HIS HEAD'

Hugo Vickers meets Lady Butler, the

sprightly widow of 'the best prime minister we never had'

THE WIDOW of R.A. Butler — the long- time Conservative statesman and Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, often dubbed 'the best prime minister we never had — is now a sprightly 87. Last week I drove down to Great Yeldham to have lunch with Lady Butler — Mollie to her friends. Spencers is a square white Geor- gian house built in about 1740 and set in its own park, surrounded by fine trees. It was a Courtauld house, and Lady Butler had lived there with her first husband, the Arctic explorer August Courtauld. Four changes of hand later, it is once again a Courtauld house. August Courtauld, to whom she was engaged in 1930, is remembered as 'The Man on the Ice Cap', having disappeared under the ice for many weeks while on an expedition in Greenland seeking the possi- bility of an air-route to North America over the Pole (August's winter on the Ice Cap', The Spectator, 4 May 1991). 'Oh, he was the most extraordinary man, my first husband, an eccentric,' said Lady Butler in her won- derfully modulated tones. 'He loved the sea and always wanted us to be at sea in his boat and I had to accept that. I never had any brothers, and I didn't know much about men and I thought, well, he's my husband and I've got to do what he wants. It never occurred to me to do otherwise.' I suggested that the modern man wouldn't get away with going off on an expedition so soon after getting engaged. 1\10, I don't think he would. A little bit my fault because he did ask me to marry him three times. I kept saying no and then the last time I said yes and the expedition had already been planned. So obviously he went.'

In Greenland, August and his colleagues undertook reconnaissance in terrible weath- er conditions. Worried that supplies were thin, August offered to stay at the Ice Cap station on his own, emerging from time to time through a hole to take the necessary readings. He began his vigil in December. In March a snowdrift deposited so much snow over the top that he could no longer open the lid to get out. He was incarcerat- ed; Lady Butler explained: It's most extraordinary to think how he had this feeling that his friends would find him. He said in his diary, "I'm sure God doesn't mean me to leave my bones on the ice-cap." He had the most marvellous faith. While he was able to move freely, he had to go out at various intervals and take the temperature, wind speed and that sort of thing. But then once he couldn't get out he spent his time reading — until he began to get worried about the fuel for his lamp. He had to have some fuel for melt- ing the ice for water to drink. And then he lay in the dark practically all the time. Incredible to think of; the courage of the man! He designed boats (in his head), he thought about the books he'd read, and he wrote me imaginary letters.

`At the top of this rounded tent, there was a little tiny ventilator, and he had a stick which he could poke up the ventila- tor. Thank God that never froze over. And that was what the rescue party shouted down when they came. They found the remains of the Union Jack, the rest had all been torn away in the blizzards, just a little bit of Union Jack sticking out of this enor- mous white waste of an ice-cap, and it was only by tremendously accurate navigation that they were able to find that. And then the terror when they called down this venti- lator and the relief when a voice answered. He'd been there exactly five months on his own; it was an astonishing feat of endurance.'

August took life in his stride when he came out, but Lady Butler regretted that he never had a proper job: 'He was a man of so many parts, there were so many things he could have done. He didn't need to work, he didn't have to earn his living, but it was an awful waste really, because he could have been a writer, a lecturer or a publisher, or he could have gone on explor- ing, although there was jolly little of the world left to explore. And he was awfully sweet about not wanting to leave me.'

Twenty years later August became ill, and I asked if this illness could have dated back to his experiences in the Arctic. 'Well, there is a theory that it could have been that, because his particular illness, dissemi- nated sclerosis, is unknown in Third World countries and I have heard people say that it's just possible that the germ might have originated then. You see, he was lying in those terrible temperatures in his sleeping- bag which had become frozen and he got frostbite in his feet and hands — thank God, all recovered, but he did suffer a ter- rible time. He was ill for eight years before he died. It was terribly sad.' After August died, Mollie became Rab Butler's second wife in 1959, his first wife, Sydney (August's second cousin), having died in 1954. I suggested she was lucky to have this new chance. 'Oh terribly lucky! It was the most marvellous thing to have Rab as my second husband. For both of us it was like a renaissance.

`Rai) was an incredibly warm, kind, sweet person. This idea that people have of him that he was a cold fish is absolute nonsense — the last thing he was. He loved women, loved children, was great fun, and kept me laughing all the time . . . I could listen to him forever talking, when he made a speech or indeed when he was just talking to people round him. When he went to Grillions [club] they used to put him in the chair and he used to hold the table, he gossiped, he was wonderfully indiscreet and people loved that.'

I had always been interested by the story that when Rab dined with Churchill he used to pour the brandy into his shoe rather than drink it. I felt it was a good solution to the problem. 'Julian Amery said in an interview, "One rather thinks that a man ought to be able to take his drink or refuse it." And I thought that was a very pejorative remark. At the same time I do see that to have to pour it into your shoe was rather going over the top . . . When these "gargantuan libations", as he called them, were happening, he and Churchill were alone.'

I asked about Macmillan, of whom Lady Butler had written the neat line in her memoirs: 'There were those who admired Mr Macmillan, and others who were less enthusiastic about him. I have always belonged to the latter category.' I remind- ed her that when considering the second leadership contest in 1963 William Rees- Mogg had written in The Spectator (13 March 1982): 'Macmillan found it difficult to behave well to a man to whom he had once behave badly.'

MB: I think that's true. I think that if you do someone an injustice you never forgive that person. He knew he had behaved badly to Rab and he couldn't forgive him. HV: It was interesting that when Alec Home took over as Prime Minister Rab went along to support him, saying, 'A man must act in character with himself.'

MB: Absolutely true, and Rab felt that he couldn't have lived with himself if he had behaved badly and insisted on having the job. He said in an interview, 'If Alec had been the most awful walrus, but he was such a terribly nice man . . . it would have been out of my nature to take it for myself . . ' H1/: Do you think he could definitely have got it?

MB: Yes, I do. You see, Alec told the Queen, 'I must go away and see if I can form a government,' and if Rab hadn't agreed to serve, I know that there were eight members of the Cabinet who had said they wanted Rab. The night before, I was alone (no one can establish where Rab was), and they all telephoned and I answered. I remember Quintin saying: `You know, Mollie, this won't do.' And I said, 'Well, you must tell Rab that,' but Alec couldn't have formed a government without Rab's support. And Rab, as you know, agreed to serve.

HV: There was a problem about the 1922 Committee, wasn't there?

MB: Yes, you see, after the Suez crisis, when Eden left and the money was drain- ing away and the Americans were unwill- ing to help, and George Humphrey, Secretary at the US Treasury, a friend of Rab's, tided us over, Macmillan was Chan- cellor of the Exchequer and Rab was act- ing as head of the Government because Anthony Eden was ill, and they both went to speak to the '22 Committee and appar- ently Rab made a very bald, factual speech about exactly what was happening. Macmillan, on the other hand, was glorify- ing what he had done and telling them all what a wonderful chap he was and they were all being taken in. And I think that was when they decided that they wanted Macmillan for leader. But I think if Rab had been chosen, they would have fallen in behind him. We should have had a very different government as a result.

HV: Do you think he would have been able to do much better in that last election [1964] when they lost to Wilson?

MB: I'm absolutely certain. You see, Wil- son only won by four seats. If Rab had been prime minister, not only I but many other people have said, of course we should have got back. And Ted Heath would not then have come into power so young — I think Ted was probably too young for the job. Everything would have been different. You see, Rab had been doing it for years for Winston Churchill and then again for Harold Macmillan. He knew all the ropes. He was a great delega- tor. He could have done it on his head. And he was so wise, such a wise man.

After the 1964 election, Rab was not ready to retire, but he was 'terribly sad in opposition'. Having been a creator, work- ing on the new Conservative philosophy which helped win the 1951 election, he found the time after 1964 rather bleak: `He was miserable. There was nothing really to do. He hated opposing just for the sake of it. It wasn't in his nature. So, when Harold Wilson offered him Trinity, it was wonderful.'

Rab arrived as Master of Trinity, Cam- bridge, in 1965. His great-uncle had been Some families appear to give better value than others.' Master there, Mollie's first husband and sons had been there, though Rab himself, his father, his brother and his sons were at Pembroke. Soon after their arrival, the Butlers invited some undergraduates to a party and found them looking rather mournful. 'I used to find that some of the young men that hadn't been to public school found it very hard not to have women around. They thought eight weeks without women was terrible.'

The undergraduates loved their new Master: 'Rai) defused all their grievances, by sweet reason, you know. He was won- derful at that. And he made a remark to somebody: "It's a very good thing to have bad food in college, because that gives them a grievance and keeps their minds off more important things."' The Prince of Wales was a Trinity man and Lady Butler agreed that he had blos- somed at the college: 'He worked awfully hard and got a 2.1 on his own merits.' How did she feel he had turned out since then?

`Well, I think he's been terribly unlucky. Perhaps I shouldn't say this, but I wonder if the Queen was always too busy to be the sort of mother that his nature required. And therefore I think he compensated for that by falling in love with older women. But because of our abominable press he was obliged to many where there was no previous history of any affairs. That nar- rowed down his choice. And although the Princess of Wales is beautiful and no doubt charming — I only met her once and was totally charmed — it didn't work. And it's left him with tragedy. `She is the perfect Princess of Wales, but only if she's being a wife to him, but to be Princess of Wales in opposition to the Prince of Wales is not what we are looking for.

`I think he's a very sensitive young man, his face would sort of crease with sorrow at any sad story, and I think he minds terribly about other people.' Rab died in 1982. Some of his obituaries suggested that his not having been a soldier had damaged him. He was too young in the first world war, and his bad arm prevented service in the second. 'I think Rab always felt a manqué in not having ever worn uni- form. Macmillan once made an absurd remark about him. He said, "The trouble about Rab is that he's never been under gunfire." He was a perfectly whole man without having been a soldier or sailor or airman.'

As we ended, Lady Butler said, 'I'd like to say something about Mr Major. In 1111Y long life I've never known the press to show such hostility to any prime minister. think he's good and brave and almost the first totally honest prime minister since Baldwin. And he's trying to do something about Northern Ireland. I know he and his Government are unpopular, just as Peel's Government was, unfairly, in the 1840s. Perhaps Mr Major's unpopularity is unfair also . . . ' That is Lady Butler's message to the party faithful in Bournemouth.