The Duchess seems to have been content to leave timetable and curriculum to the governess and intervened very little, except in those respects which echoed her own education. Like her own mother, she wished to teach her daughters Bible stories herself, and they came to her bedroom each morning for this. Like her mother, who had curtailed her lessons and told her governess that health was more important than examinations, she insisted on the children getting plenty of fresh air. Later, when the Princesses were a little older, she copied Lady Strathmore’s practice of employing a French ‘holiday governess’, Georgina Guérin, the daughter of her own governess ‘Madé’ Lang.* When the Linguaphone Institute wrote offering her their First Course in Latin, a French literary course and a set of French songs for Princess Elizabeth, she ordered only the songs.159
As time went by, Marion Crawford did not find the Duchess very supportive; she commented that sometimes ‘things are not made easy for me.’ Even when Princess Elizabeth was eleven her mother was reluctant to allow a full school day. ‘I have been more or less commanded to keep the afternoons as free of “serious” work as possible,’ the governess recorded.160 To her credit Miss Crawford made the best of this, giving the girls lessons as they walked in the garden and devising educational games for them. Not always successfully: she tried giving them a geographical Happy Families to take downstairs after tea, when they went to see their parents, ‘but I am afraid if I am not there to play too,’ she reported, ‘Racing Demon wins the day.’161
Worse still, Crawfie’s timetables were all too often disrupted by ‘distractions like dentists, tailors and hair-dressers who seem very unwilling to come any other time of day than the morning’. When morning swimming lessons were introduced she won her point by persuading the Duchess to allow afternoon lessons in the garden to make up for the lost time. But she complained that her pupils often went to bed too late, so that they missed their morning piano practice and there was much yawning in class.162
The governess found an ally in Queen Mary, who took a close interest in the children’s education; her replies to the Queen’s enquiries reveal the governess’s frustrations with her employer.163 Another supporter was Owen Morshead, the Royal Librarian, who gave the Princesses regular historical tours of Windsor Castle when they were older. A 1941 letter from Queen Mary to Morshead shows her disapproval of her daughter-in-law’s lackadaisical attitude to the Princesses’ education. ‘Between ourselves,’ she wrote, ‘I asked nice Miss Crawford about your talks to the Princesses which she is so keen about, she says it is so awkward to fix definite hours or days for these as her dear Majesty constantly wants the children at odd moments, a fatal proceeding when one has lessons to do, & one which the late King & I never indulged in where lessons were concerned!’164 Morshead shared Queen Mary’s view, writing to her later that Miss Crawford was ‘apt to feel discouraged about her work from time to time’. He added: ‘I will forbear from enlarging on this delicate point, in which I know Your Majesty’s feelings are deeply engaged.’ However he made clear that he was not impressed that the eighteen books recently ordered for Princess Elizabeth by her mother were all by P. G. Wodehouse.165
All this seems to show that the Duchess did not consider it necessary for her daughters to have any more rigorous or extensive an education than she had received herself. Instead, she wanted them to have plenty of fresh air, exercise, fun – and light reading. In academic terms the education she arranged for her children was similar to that given to daughters of aristocratic families at the time, many of whom were still taught at home. But it was, inevitably, an imperfect education, dispensed mostly by a governess whose experience and expertise were narrow. Moreover the Princesses lacked the companionship and stimulation of other children as classmates, although activities outside the schoolroom, such as Madame Vacani’s dancing classes and the Girl Guides,* made up for this to some extent.
When it became clear that Princess Elizabeth needed a better training for her future role, her mother followed wise advice in arranging for Henry Marten, the Vice-Provost of Eton, to give her history lessons from 1939. For the first of these tutorials Princess Elizabeth was taken by carriage to Marten’s study at Eton, where she sat and listened, surrounded by piles of books on the floor – an unfamiliar sight for her. Later the carriage was sent to bring Marten to the Castle. Marie-Antoinette de Bellaigue, an intelligent and cultivated woman who taught both Princesses European history as well as French from 1942 and remained a trusted friend to them for many years, also helped give them a wider outlook. She felt strongly, however, that their mother took too little interest in their academic education.166
What always mattered most for the Duchess was moral and spiritual education, and here her mother’s influence ran deep. She brought up her own children in the Christian principles she had learned; her letters to her daughters remind them to be kind, to be thoughtful to others, and to keep their temper and their word.167 She was also keenly aware of children’s sensitivities, and believed encouragement and understanding vital to their development – something that she felt her husband’s upbringing had lacked. Among her private papers is a note she wrote for him ‘in case of anything happening to me’:
Be very careful not to ridicule your children or laugh at them. When they say funny things it is usually quite innocent, and if they are silly or ‘show off’ they should be quietly stopped, & told why afterwards if people are there.
Always try & talk very quietly to children. Never shout or frighten them, as otherwise you lose their delightful trust in you.
Remember how your father, by shouting at you, & making you feel uncomfortable lost all your real affection. None of his sons are his friends, because he is not understanding & helpful to them.168
*
AT CHRISTMAS 1933 Archbishop Lang sent the Duchess another of his annual letters of praise for her public work. She replied hoping that the new year would be ‘a happier one for many people in this land, and their happiness will certainly make us happier. One cannot help worrying over the misery & hardship suffered by so many good people, and their courage in facing hardship is the thing that I admire most in them. It is a great example to all of us luxurious minded creatures – not you, but us – I mean!’169
Her public commitments continued as usual. On 16 February 1934 she opened the X-ray department of the Marie Curie Hospital in Hampstead and that evening she and the Duke attended the Jubilee Ball at the Dorchester Hotel of the London Angus Association. Aberdeen Angus cattle were to be a lifelong interest to her, and she felt very much among friends at this gathering.170 The Toc H League of Women Helpers was an organization in which she took a special interest and she agreed to open their new headquarters, New June, in the City of London, to be dedicated by the founder of Toc H, the Rev. Tubby Clayton, on 21 February. Her friendship with him lasted for years.171 She continued to work for ‘her’ hospital, St Mary’s Paddington, and many other organizations claimed her time and attention over the next months.
That summer Lady Strathmore was ill again and the Duke suffered acute pain from a poisoned hand, which required surgery. He was out of action for weeks and the Duchess had to make a long-planned trip to Sheffield on her own. The fifth-largest city in the country, Sheffield had a substantial working-class population and had borne the Depression and unemployment bravely. She had a full programme and she was delighted with the warm welcome she received. She visited the Painted Fabrics workshops and the disabled ex-servicemen it employed.* On the way she stopped at the home of one of the workmen, a much decorated but badly injured old soldier, Sergeant ‘Taffy’ Llewellyn, who was too weak to go to the workshops for her visit. She talked to him, according to the administrator, ‘with such perfect understanding, that his poor shattered body and entire system received just the tonic it needed to put up a fresh fight against the terrible depression from which he has been suffering for so many months, and for which the doctor could do nothing’.172
Her private account of her visit to the cit
y, in a letter to Osbert Sitwell, was exuberant. She declared, ‘It took me three baths and three days to become clean after my two days in Sheffield – never have I been so dirty. Smoke, steel filings, oil & coal dust all gathered to cast a dusky hue over my person, & five hours on end with the charming and very Labour Lord Mayor completed my rout.’173
Later that year she had an artistic diversion. Oswald Birley, one of the most successful painters of the time, was commissioned to paint a group of her friends known to each other (and to no others) as the Windsor Wets’ Club. The club had been founded a few years earlier with the Duchess as patroness and it reflected her sense of mischief. The Wets were, in a phrase, a secret group of like-minded tipplers intent on raising their collective spirits. Their motto was Aqua vitae non aqua pura. ‘The great thing was’, she explained many years later, ‘that being a SECRET SOCIETY we had to have a secret sign, & this was, to raise the glass to other members without being seen by the disapprovers!’174 Most of its devotees were members of the Royal Household, and their clandestine association enlivened the tedium of many a Court function.*
The Duchess’s chief co-conspirator was Dick Molyneux, the club’s Honorary Treasurer, to whom she wrote a spoof letter in June 1931 accepting the post of patroness: ‘It is with pride and pleasure that I accept this responsible position, and if the occasion arises, you may rest assured that your Patroness will be with you to the last glass.’ They kept up a humorous correspondence about club business, including her suggestion of a club tie with champagne stripes on a claret ground.175
In May 1934 the lure of immortality encouraged the Wets to have their portrait painted. The Duchess was also enthusiastic; she had liked Birley’s work – he had painted her portrait for one of her regiments, the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry. In August that year, when she was staying with the Elphinstones at Gannochy, she wrote to Molyneux – although he was in the same house party – to inform him that:
I have decided to make Lady Eldon (spouse of our valued Secretary) an honorary Lady Member of the Club. And no interference from you please. It’s quite time that I took the reins again I can see.
Well, aqua vitae non aqua pura still holds good, & I hope that you will have a good week here & will live up to the motto of the Club. Elizabeth (Patroness).176
Birley accepted the commission; his excellent and humorous portrait still hangs at Windsor Castle.177 It shows a number of the gentlemen members of the Club sitting and standing around a table laden with port and wine after dinner at Windsor. Since women were not supposed to participate in such occasions, the Duchess of York and the Duchess of Beaufort are present only as portraits on the wall, while Lady Eldon peers from around a screen; the Duke of York’s membership is also signalled by his portrait. ‘It was a silly, but most enjoyable underground movement,’ Queen Elizabeth said later, ‘& we laughed a lot.’178
*
AT THE END of July 1934 the Duchess went to Cowes with the King and Queen. She looked forward to it. ‘I like the feel of yacht racing – it is very exciting, & very peaceful. No noise, except the creak of the sails & the water rushing by – & a glow of health after a few days at sea!!’179 In the event the weather was poor and she only had one day racing on Britannia;* they spent more time than they expected aboard the royal yacht, the Victoria and Albert.† The Duchess made the best of it, writing to Osbert Sitwell ‘in a little house on the top deck. It has leather seats, silver fittings and too many tassels to count. Extremely Edwardian, & of course extremely comfortable. I am looking at a battleship as I write, hundreds of seagulls are crying & nobody bothers me, so I am happy.’180
She left Cowes on her thirty-fourth birthday – and that day Britannia had a spectacular win, beating her rival Astra by twelve seconds.181 The Duchess wrote to the King to say that she ‘would have blown up with excitement!’ if she had been there. ‘It is very odd, but nothing in the whole year gives me such pleasure as my few days at Cowes, I feel quite different, & so happy … there is something so exhilarating about the elements, the sea & the wind & the sun, and one feels far away from the horrors of modern civilization with its noise and eternal hurry.’182
She and the Duke and their daughters now travelled, as every August, to Scotland where they divided their time between Glamis and Birkhall. It was an idyllic interlude; the girls in particular loved it. They took Princess Margaret for the first time to the Braemar Gathering; this display of Highland Games was a regular engagement for the Royal Family but not one in which many members rejoiced. This year the King escaped it, on grounds of a slight chill. At the end of their holiday the family was as sad as ever to leave Birkhall. The Duchess told the King, ‘Lilibet nearly wept when we left the other day.’183
However, they were soon caught up in the preparations for the major royal event of the year. In the autumn of 1934 the King’s fourth son Prince George, Duke of Kent, became engaged to and married Princess Marina of Greece. The Duchess had discussed this possibility with the Prince himself and with Queen Mary while they were together in Cowes. She told the Queen that she hoped something would come of the idea but ‘He must get to know her well, because with his character it would be madness to marry somebody who was not congenial to him.’184 Before the Duke left to meet the Princess in Yugoslavia in August, he wrote to the Duchess to say that he doubted anything would happen. In the event, he was pleasantly surprised by the beautiful Greek Princess – by the end of the month he was engaged and the Duchess wrote to congratulate him. ‘She is so sweet, & so pretty, and do tell her that nobody will welcome her more than her future sister in law … Darling, Bertie & I, the old married couple, pray that you will both be as happy as we are.’185
In mid-September the bride-to-be and her parents, Prince and Princess Nicholas of Greece, accompanied by Prince George, came to Balmoral to meet their future in-laws. The Duchess may well have sympathized with Princess Marina, whose introduction to the Royal Family was, in its way, as daunting as her own had been. Ironically, Princess Marina would have been perfectly at ease with the bevy of royal cousins and aunts gathered at Sandringham to inspect Lady Elizabeth Bowes Lyon in 1923. Lady Elizabeth, on the other hand, would have seen nothing odd in the King and all the male members of his family turning out in kilts to greet her, nor in the Ghillies’ Ball to which the Greek visitors were subjected two days later. But they at least ‘seemed to enjoy’ the ball, as the King noted cautiously in his diary.186
The Duchess then arranged for Beryl Poignand to come in to deal with Princess Marina’s correspondence. ‘Don’t forget to make a nice curtsey to Marina, her mother & father, & anybody that should be curtseyed to!’ she warned her old friend. ‘Practise shaking hands & bending those proud knees of yours. A curtsey in the morning ought to get you through the day!’ But of course, she added, ‘this doesn’t apply to you & me. It’s only for other members of the Royal family … Au revoir and sharpen up the old pencil. Your loving E.’187
Most of the important members of the remaining royal houses in Europe came to London for the wedding on 29 November 1934. At the first ‘family’ dinner, for seventy-five, the Duchess sat between Prince Charles of Sweden and Prince Nicholas of Greece, the father of the bride. Her old friend Prince Paul of Yugoslavia was also at her table. Another guest was Princess Marina’s thirteen-year-old cousin Prince Philip of Greece, who was at school at Gordonstoun. The next night the King and Queen gave a party for 800 people at the Palace.
The wedding day was overcast but fortunately there was no fog as had been feared and the marriage was clearly popular. Princess Elizabeth was again an excited bridesmaid. The four-year-old Princess Margaret was keen to go to the wedding too; the King and Queen agreed on condition that the Duchess could ‘really guarantee that Margaret will behave like an angel & that you will keep her near you’.188 The Duchess complied. She wore what The Times called ‘an unusual shade of japonica-pink velvet. The coat had a collar of blue fox fur and wide sleeves drawn into a band at the cuffs. Her close fitting hat had
two tufts of shaded pink feathers at the side.’189 She led Princess Margaret, who was wearing a cream satin coat and bonnet trimmed with narrow bands of beaver, by the hand into the Abbey. The Princess sat on a stool at her mother’s feet and, according to her grandfather, Lord Strathmore, she was ‘as good as gold’ during the service.190 The Daily Telegraph recorded that when her sister appeared, holding the train, only a few feet from her, Princess Margaret waved to attract her attention, whereupon Princess Elizabeth gave her a stern look and shook her head. ‘Thenceforth all exuberance was quelled.’191
*
DURING 1935 THE Duke and Duchess of Kent began to play an active part in public life, which relieved the pressure upon the Prince of Wales and the Yorks. This was welcome to them all, because it was an especially busy year, the year of the King’s Silver Jubilee. The Duchess of York’s files show her turning down as many engagements as she accepted. She rejected most charitable film premieres because she believed that they did more for the film companies than for the charities. She was firm about where she wanted to go and what she would do, but flexible and generous in her approach to the people on the ground, and ready to change dates or times to suit them. Charity organizers were often pleasantly surprised by her willingness to shake more hands and spend more time than expected, because she knew the pleasure it gave.
The King and Queen asked them to attend more functions at Court than usual this year, but both she and the Duke much preferred their relatively independent public work with their own patronages and charities to the predictable and repetitive formalities of Court life. The Duchess scored a small but important victory in this respect by writing the King a cleverly worded letter asking him to allow her to accept the honorary colonelcy of the London Scottish Regiment. If he agreed, she said, ‘I promise you that I should behave very quietly and not traipse about Hyde Park in a grey kilt!’192 She pointed out that the Scots so easily felt left out and she would be sorry if she had to cancel her attendance at the regiment’s annual prize-giving and concert in order to attend a Court. As usual her charm worked – the King gave way to her on both issues.
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