The Queen Mother

by William Shawcross

  After their mother, the most important presence in the children’s lives was their nanny. Clara Cooper Knight, known as Alah, was the daughter of a tenant farmer on the Strathmores’ Hertfordshire estate, and was taken on by Lady Strathmore when Elizabeth was only a month old. She later described Elizabeth as ‘an exceptionally happy, easy baby: crawling early, running at thirteen months and speaking very young’.34 Kind but firm, devoted and utterly dependable, Alah remained in charge of the nursery until Elizabeth was eleven and stayed with the family thereafter. She went to work for Elizabeth’s elder sister May, and then took charge of Princess Elizabeth when she was born in 1926.

  Elizabeth Bowes Lyon spent most of her childhood at St Paul’s Walden Bury. Her brother David told Lady Cynthia Asquith that he and Elizabeth regarded Glamis as ‘a holiday place, Streatlam as a visit, and St Paul’s as “Home” ’.35 Cynthia Asquith commented: ‘Its atmosphere of a happy English home recalls to one’s memory so many of the familiar delights of childhood – charades, schoolroom-tea, home made toffee, Christmas Eve, hide-and-seek. Nowhere in this well-worn house, one feels, can there ever have been very strict rules as to the shutting of doors, the wiping of boots or the putting away of toys … least of all any edict that children must be seen, not heard.’36

  The garden outside was both lovely and mysterious, with barns and other outhouses making irresistible places to play. Elizabeth loved being in the stable around the smell of horses and leather, bits of which the groom gave her to polish. ‘Absolute bliss,’ she recalled.37 Beyond the garden lay woodland, intersected by long grassy avenues lined with beech hedges and connected by lateral rides. Statues stood at the end of vistas and a maze of walks criss-crossed the wood; there were ponds, a rock garden and a huge knobbled oak tree. Once within this wood it was hard not to believe that one was in a vast forest.38

  The adult Elizabeth gave Cynthia Asquith a whimsical description of this magical childhood world. ‘At the bottom of the garden, where the sun always seems to be shining, is THE WOOD – the haunt of fairies, with its anemones and ponds, and moss-grown statues, and the BIG OAK … where the two ring-doves, Caroline-Curly-Love and Rhoda-Wrigley-Worm, contentedly coo in their wicker-work “Ideal Home”.’39

  The two children had a favourite hiding place which they called the Flea House. It was in the attic of the decrepit brewhouse – a ‘blissful retreat’, David said, in which they hid from grown-ups and escaped from their morning lessons. ‘In it we kept a regular store of forbidden delicacies acquired by devious devices. This store consisted of apples, oranges, sugar, sweets, slabs of Chocolat Menier, matches and packets of Woodbines.’40 Years later Queen Elizabeth recalled the fascination of the farm buildings for the two children: ‘I loved wandering round the old Barns and Flea House, & remembering some of the old characters who seemed to live there. Will Wren’s parlour and Charles May’s shed were always full of fascinating & exciting objects when we were children, and the Brew House, with its dangerous deep well, and chaff cutting machine, were very special and rather frightening!’41

  ‘We did all the usual country-life things together,’ David told his sister’s biographer. ‘We were never separated if we could avoid it.’42 Their interests were not identical: she loved horses, he did not; she loved parties, he did not. When visitors came she would explain, ‘David is rather shy.’43 Mrs Thompson, the housekeeper, wrote after Elizabeth had married and become duchess of York:

  They were the dearest little couple I have ever seen and the Duchess always took the lead. She would come tripping down the stairs and it would be ‘Mrs Thompson, have you any of those nice creams left for us?’ and she would herself open the cupboard and help herself to what she liked best … I can see her now coming outside the window of the housekeeper’s room with her tiny pony Bobs, and making him beg for sugar, and often she would come up by herself and pop her head up suddenly and make us all jump, at which she would have a good laugh. She had a very happy childhood, and always good health to enjoy it.44

  If St Paul’s Walden Bury was a delightful family home, Glamis Castle was a thrilling place to spend holidays. It is one of the most splendid buildings in Scotland. The oldest part of the Castle, the southeast wing, dates from the fifteenth century but it was not until the early seventeenth century, when the first and second earls of Kinghorne set about remodelling the Castle, that it acquired its impressive height, its turreted profile and some of its finest rooms. The soaring central staircase, with eighty-six wide stone steps winding round to the top of its tower, was built at this time. Its hollow newel may once have been intended to heat the house with warm air rising from a fire at its base; but since 1686 it has held the mighty weights of the Castle clock, the steady ticking of which, muffled by the thickness of the stone, has been described by one family member as ‘the heartbeat of the castle’.45

  The first Earl installed the imposing chimneypiece and overmantel in the great hall, now the Drawing Room; the second Earl was responsible for the handsome arched ceiling, dated 1621. After a period of neglect, towards the end of the seventeenth century the Castle acquired its present spectacular approach and façade thanks to the inspiration of Patrick, first Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorne, who moved the entrance to the stair tower and the avenue leading up to it. He also installed the chapel next to the Great Hall, richly decorated with paintings by Jacob de Wet, which survives, after a mid-nineteenth-century restoration. Earl Patrick’s much admired gardens and policies (parkland) were destroyed in the eighteenth century. However, the more open setting of the Castle today allows for dramatic effect, the turrets appearing to rise up as one makes one’s way down the long, straight drive. (In 2008, the Prince of Wales opened the Queen Mother Memorial Gates at the end of the drive, thus allowing a view of the Castle from Glamis village for the first time.)

  Through the ages the Castle has resounded with superstition, legend and tales of ghosts and even monsters, and has received the visits of kings and queens of Scotland. James VI of Scotland visited often to see his friend the ninth Lord Glamis, who then accompanied his sovereign south on his accession to the throne of England (as James I) in 1603 and became one of his Privy Counsellors in 1606. It is possible that Shakespeare heard tales of the many historical connections between Glamis and the Scottish Crown at the English Court. Whatever inspired the playwright’s imagination, the Castle continues to have a stirring association with the grim tragedy of Macbeth.46 Before the installation of gas lighting in 1865, climbing the stairs to bed with a flickering candle could have unsettled the thoughts of even the most unimaginative soul. After spending a night at Glamis, Sir Walter Scott wrote, ‘I must own that when I heard door after door shut, after my conductor had retired, I began to consider myself as too far from the living, and somewhat too near the dead.’ Scott drew on the Castle and the circumstances of the family in two of his novels, Waverley and The Antiquary.47 By the end of the Victorian period the Castle had become somewhat more domestic In the last decade of the century the thirteenth Earl, Elizabeth’s grandfather, embarked on building work to accommodate his growing number of grandchildren.48 Plans for the new nursery wing show large south-facing rooms on the second floor. Electricity came to the Castle only in 1929.

  One of Elizabeth’s earliest memories was of her grandparents’ golden wedding celebration at Glamis in 1903, when she sat on her grandfather’s knee and watched the fireworks.49 His diary records that the Strathmores invited 571 children from five schools in the neighbourhood to tea, sports and a conjuring show, followed by fireworks arranged by the house steward, Charles Collingwood. ‘All went perfectly. They said there were 2000 people to see the fireworks. We saw them from my window with some of the children.’50

  On 16 February 1904 Elizabeth’s grandfather died and, at the age of forty-nine, her father became fourteenth earl of Strathmore and Kinghorne.* The diary of her elder sister May records that she and her mother sent their clothes off to be dyed black.51 Years later Elizabeth recalled that in her childhood t
hey always seemed to be in mourning for someone.52

  Home remained at St Paul’s Walden Bury but now that her father had inherited Glamis as well – not to mention Streatlam and Gibside – her family’s visits north became more prolonged. The winter, spring and summer until July were generally spent in Hertfordshire and London, where from late 1906 the Strathmores rented 20 St James’s Square, a magnificent house designed by Robert Adam for Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn in the 1770s. In August they moved to Glamis, staying there until October or sometimes November before returning south. The autumn was also the period for visits to Streatlam. Decamping to Glamis was a major operation. It was not just the family but the household which moved to Scotland. As well as clothes they took silver, china and everything else that they might need for several weeks’ holiday and entertainment north of the border. Everyone boarded the overnight train which took them to the little station at Glamis.

  By the standards of the day, and of their acquaintances, the Strathmores did not run a grand household. The 1901 census return for St Paul’s Walden Bury lists a housekeeper, a cook, a lady’s maid, a dairy maid, a nursery maid, two housemaids, a kitchenmaid, two footmen, a page, a coachman and a groom (who doubled as a chauffeur when motor cars were acquired in about 1908). For many decades, the most cherished was Arthur Barson who served the family through several generations as footman, valet and butler. ‘Nothing would go on without him – he keeps everything going,’ the young Elizabeth informed a newcomer to the household.53 She later told a relative that the family all liked Barson so much that they insisted he be included in the portrait of the family showing them gathered in the drawing room at Glamis, with Elizabeth and David in the foreground building houses of cards on the floor. It was painted in 1909 by a young Italian painter, Alessandro Catani-Chiti, and still hangs at St Paul’s Walden Bury.54

  Later Elizabeth recalled that Glamis, like St Paul’s, was filled with local people working for the family. Outside there were gardeners, grooms and agricultural workers. Inside there were housemaids, kitchenmaids and laundry maids. ‘It was really like a little village,’ she remembered, and she thought it was a happy one. ‘They were all our friends.’55 For many years the family cook was Etta Maclean, known as Mrs Eeta. She had been trained by Lady Strathmore and travelled with the family. Her two sisters also worked for the Strathmores; one, Catherine (Catta), later became Elizabeth’s lady’s maid and stayed with her for many years after her marriage.56*

  *

  THE FATHER of this great family was thin, rangy and unconventional. He had a thick moustache which greyed quite early in his life. He was not extrovert; indeed he was said to be ‘a quiet, courteous, religious man, conscientious to a degree’.57 He had a strong sense of duty which he imparted to his children; he was a dedicated landowner who was said to be generous to his tenants; he was a sportsman, a good if not first-class cricketer, and an excellent shot. But above all he loved forestry and was known for the eccentric delight he took in chopping up trees.

  A family anecdote tells something of his character. One day when working with his trees, he was looking sufficiently unkempt and unrecognizable for a wandering tramp to stop and talk to him. They got on so well that the tramp stayed to help him with a bonfire. The Earl then told the tramp that he had heard that, if one went to the back door of the big house, one would be given some money, and advised him to try this the next day. Lord Strathmore then gave the butler a sovereign to pass on. Next day the tramp reappeared and told the Earl with jubilation that he had received a half-sovereign. History does not relate what happened to the butler, who was surely not the beloved Barson.58

  If Claude was eccentric and loved by his family and retainers, Cecilia was simply much loved – by all her children, her servants and her friends. She dominated her family and household, running both with affection and care. One of her daughters recalled: ‘Mother was a very wonderful woman, very talented, very go-ahead, and so upright. She had a terrific sympathy; the young used to pour their troubles out to her and ask her for advice, often when they would not go to their own parents.’59 Her granddaughter Lady Mary Clayton spoke of her as ‘the wisest person one could meet’, and described her ‘delicious’ laugh.60 Devoid of snobbery, Cecilia had a great capacity for friendship. She had a zest for living and was constantly developing new enthusiasms, but she was casual to the point of apparent carelessness. When a visitor could no longer bear to watch water pouring down the wall of a room at St Paul’s Walden Bury and pointed it out to her, she merely remarked, ‘Oh dear, we must move that sofa.’61

  She gave wonderful parties. Raymond Asquith, the eldest son of the future Prime Minister, described a ball at Glamis in September 1905: ‘The place is an enormous 10th century dungeon. It was full of torches and wild men in kilts and pretty women pattering on the stone stairs with satin slippers … I was glad to find I had enough illusibility left to fancy myself in a distant century.’62

  A lively and imaginative storyteller, Cecilia entertained her children with tales of life at Glamis in centuries gone by. Gradually, she inculcated in them a sense of history and romance, a love of tradition and a sense of duty. She was strict but not harsh; her children were brought up according to firm principles, but they recalled that these were never enforced unkindly. ‘Work is the rent you pay for life’ was one of her maxims; another was ‘Life is for living and working at. If anything or anyone bores you, then the fault is in yourself.’63 She was artistic and creative, and her embroidery, especially crewel-work, was outstanding in its design and execution. She also had a good ear for music and was an accomplished pianist. Another of her loves was gardening, and at Glamis between 1907 and 1910 she designed and created what is now called the Italian Garden. A major project, it involved felling about four acres of trees and levelling and draining the ground, all carried out by men from the estate.64

  Christianity was fundamental to both Cecilia and Claude; they instilled a strong sense of religion in their children. The family said prayers daily at St Paul’s Walden Bury and in the Glamis chapel. Lady Strathmore considered that women’s hair should be covered for worship and provided white lace caps for guests. On Sundays she played the harmonium to accompany the hymns. She taught each of her children to kneel and pray beside their beds every night. Elizabeth continued to do this until the end of her life. The Strathmore children were brought up – like so many other British children from different backgrounds – with a love of nation as well as a love of God. Loyalty to King and Country were imbibed early on, along with decent behaviour. Their generation, like their parents’, was proud of the spread of Christianity, law and technical progress throughout the British Empire.

  It was a happy household and, according to contemporary accounts, Elizabeth was a vivacious child who, from an early age, loved the company of adults as well as children. Her grandmother found her ‘quite a companion’, even at the age of three, and enjoyed ‘her coaxy little ways’.65 Her mother once found the three-year-old pouring tea (which she had ordered herself) and talking to neighbours who had arrived early. On another occasion, according to Cynthia Asquith, she approached a distinguished visitor with the words ‘Shall us sit and talk?’ As Lady Cynthia commented, ‘The sentence was a command rather than an invitation,’ and the man was gently detached from the rest of the party and led away for a long conversation.66

  Being ninth of ten children had its benefits: adults took a more indulgent view of one’s behaviour. Elizabeth was mischievous as well as precocious, although her first biographer found no reports of ‘sensational naughtiness’ beyond the occasion when, aged about six, she used a pair of scissors to cut up her sheets. When she confided this to a visitor, she was asked, ‘What will Mother say when you tell her?’ ‘Oh! Elizabeth,’ she replied – and she was correct.67

  Lord David Cecil, who was introduced to Elizabeth in London when they were both children, later wrote: ‘I turned and looked and was aware of a small, charming rosy face around which twined and strayed rings an
d tendrils of silken hair, and a pair of dewy grey eyes … From that moment my small damp hand clutched at hers and I never left her side … Forgotten were all the pretenders to my heart. Here was the true heroine. She had come. I had seen and she had conquered.’68 Another admirer, Lord Gorell,* whom she used as a child to call ‘old boy’, remembered later that she had said to him, when aged eight, that she was sure she had ‘bothered’ him when she was only six. On the contrary, he recalled: ‘there are children, of course, who bother grown ups; but Lady Elizabeth was never one of them … She had, even then, that blend of kindliness and dignity that is the peculiar characteristic of her family. She was small for her age, responsive as a harp, wistful and appealing one moment, bright-eyed and eager the next, with a flashing smile of appreciative delight.’69

  One of the many photographs of Elizabeth and David as children shows them at Glamis with their dancing master, Mr Neill of Forfar. It is almost like a painting by Rembrandt; the bearded old man, standing with his fiddle, watches as Elizabeth poses in a long Jacobean dress said to be of rose pink and silver, while David wears the multi-coloured jerkin, tights, cap and bells of a court jester. Mr Neill took his job as teacher seriously; though he used to skip around the room after his pupils as he played, he maintained a solemn mien so that David and Elizabeth knew that they must learn their steps. Only when the dance was complete and any audience present clapped them could they relax.70 On one occasion they danced for the minister of Glamis, Dr John Stirton, who was later appointed chaplain to King George V at Balmoral. He recalled that when Cecilia Strathmore sat at the piano and played a few bars of a ‘quaint old minuet’, suddenly ‘as if by a magician’s touch, two little figures seemed to rise from the floor and dance, with admirable precision and grace, the stately measure so characteristic of the eighteenth century.’ When the dancers bowed and curtsied, ‘little choruses of praise were heard on every side, and Lady Elizabeth, on being asked the name of the character she had adopted, said with great empressement: “I call myself the Princess Elizabeth.” ’71