† Sir Cecil Charles Boyd-Rochfort KCVO (1887–1983), successful racehorse trainer who trained for King George VI, Queen Elizabeth and Queen Elizabeth II until his retirement in 1968.
‡ Liaquat Ali Khan (1895–1951), lawyer and political theorist who was one of the creators of Pakistan after the partition of India in 1947. He served as first Prime Minister of Pakistan from 1947 until his assassination four years later.
§ Jawaharlal Nehru (1889–1964), Indian politician and lawyer, one of the principal leaders of the movement for independence from Britain in the 1920s and 1930s. After that ambition was achieved in 1947, he became the first Prime Minister of India, a position he retained until his death. He was one of the leaders of the international non-aligned movement.
* Helen Lightbody (1908–87), nanny to Prince Charles and Princess Anne from 1948 to her retirement in the 1950s.
† Agnes Macdonald Couper, nursery maid, 1950–6.
* Sir Alan Lascelles to Queen Elizabeth, 23 September 1951 (RA/QEQM/PRIV/ MISCOFF).
* Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip set off on a tour of Canada on 7 October 1951, delayed slightly by the King’s illness. The Princess’s Private Secretary, Martin Charteris, carried sealed envelopes containing the draft Accession Declaration and Messages to Parliament, to be opened should the King die. In the event, nothing detracted from the triumphant 10,000-mile journey undertaken by the young couple. Prince Philip was a special attraction – young women screamed when he waved. The Princess was pleased by her husband’s ‘succès fou’ and the growth of his ‘legend’. (Princess Elizabeth to Queen Elizabeth, 4 November 1951, RA QEQM/PRIV/RF)
* On 25 October 1951, the Conservatives, led once more by Winston Churchill, won the general election with a majority of seventeen seats. The King was happy to invite his wartime companion to form a government once again.
† Eve Perrick (1916–95), well-known journalist on the Daily Express.
‡ Presidential guest house close to the White House.
* Air Marshal Sir John D’Albiac KCVO KBE CB DSO (1894–1963), Commandant London Airport 1947–57.
† Air Commodore Whitney Straight CBE MC DFC (1912–79), Deputy Chairman (later Chairman) of the British Overseas Airways Corporation (later British Airways).
PART FOUR
QUEEN MOTHER
‘There’s something about her that’s kept very young’
TED HUGHES
DESPITE HER GRIEF, Queen Elizabeth showed fortitude. Less than a fortnight after the death of the King, she announced that in future she wished to be known as ‘Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother’, though it was not a title she liked. She knew she was now the ancien régime. She would no longer be at centre stage in the life of the nation but would be playing a supporting role to her daughter. But she was only fifty-one and she could not contemplate being relegated to ‘the no earthly use class’.1
Gradually, the tide of sorrow which had almost submerged her withdrew. She began to rebuild her life around several core elements. The most important was family – her daughters and her grandchildren. Prince Charles was, from infancy, a great favourite; throughout her life she lavished love upon him – and he returned it. In November 1952 she wrote to D’Arcy Osborne, ‘Charles is a great love of mine. He is such a darling & so like his mother when she was a small child.’2
Widowhood could not mean retirement. ‘The very important thing is to be busy,’3 Queen Elizabeth believed, and she followed such advice herself after the death of the King. As she grew older she worked unceasingly for the charities, regiments and other organizations with which she was associated. Her list of patronages grew to over three hundred and she could rarely say no to a new one.
The Queen Mother also became, in her second half-century, one of the best-travelled members of the Royal Family, undertaking many tours of North America, Africa and Australasia, as well as taking holidays in France and Italy. The enthusiasm she generated on her official travels showed her that she could still help foster Britain’s links with its former imperial possessions, which were now part of the Commonwealth, and improve relations with other countries. Even her official tours were laced with the fun which she tried to impart to everything she did. She had always loved flying and in Africa or Australia would take to the smallest local planes without any anxiety.
In the summer of 1952, a few months after the King’s death, Queen Elizabeth went to stay in Caithness in the north of Scotland with one of her closest friends, Doris Vyner, and her husband Clare. Their remote house overlooked the sea and the Orkney Islands beyond. Together they chanced upon a little ruined castle on the coast and its delighted owner sold it to Queen Elizabeth for a token £100. It was a whimsical purchase but, over the decades ahead, the Castle of Mey gave enormous pleasure to her and her friends.
She developed her passion for racehorses. The Queen, like other monarchs before her, concentrated on flat racing, and so the Queen Mother took up steeplechasing, the poor relation of the flat, which attracted a rather louche and amusing crowd of people. Mother and daughter each became immersed in the joys and sorrows of the turf, knowing well the lines of individual horses, the records of jockeys, trainers and owners, the going under different conditions of every racetrack in the kingdom. For five decades their letters to each other were filled with racing gossip and the performances of their respective horses. Racing was all the more fun because it was such a contrast to royal life – far from being predictable, it was always thrillingly uncertain.
In the decade following the death of the King, Britain began to experience an extensive social revolution. In the 1960s and 1970s, as the state took over more and more areas of life and as Britain became a more open, less judgemental society, deference was sometimes replaced by indifference, scepticism and satire. The monarchy seemed remote and out of date to London-led cultural revolutionaries. But others saw the institution and particularly the Queen Mother as the embodiment of the traditional values on which they depended.
Throughout, she was informed by a conviction that individuals were more important than the state and that the extension of the government’s reach into every area of life did ‘not absolve us from the practice of charity or from the exercise of vigilance. The English way of progress has always been to preserve good qualities and apply them to new systems.’ She, like other members of the Royal Family, felt this especially in the matter of health care. The National Health Service, created by the Labour government in 1948, should continue to use charitable volunteers to ‘show that sympathy and compassion were still freely given’.4
In 1993, in her annual speech to the Sandringham Women’s Institute (a group she much enjoyed), she looked back fifty years to the time ‘when the skies above us were filled with aircraft of the American 8th Air Force, stationed all around us in East Anglia’. There had been many changes since then, she said, ‘some good, and some not so good, but through all those changing scenes of life we can feel the strong beat of the English heart’.5
She kept her own heart young not only by being busy but also by always winning new young friends. Many of them stayed with her at the Castle of Mey, probably the most relaxed of her households. At the end of her eighties she became close friends with the poet Ted Hughes, with whom she exchanged affectionate letters for a decade.
Her friendship with Hughes gave joy to her nineties, but it was in many ways a wretched decade for the Royal Family. Princess Anne’s marriage ended in divorce in 1992 and so, later, did the marriage between Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson. But the most damaging rupture of all was between the Prince and Princess of Wales. Their separation was announced at the end of 1992, shortly after the fire which devastated large parts of Windsor Castle.
In all these sadnesses, Queen Elizabeth spoke to many of her relations, but she was careful not to commit her views to paper, not even in private letters. She had always been discreet about the Royal Family. By the 1990s, when leaks were constant, she was even more careful.
When her h
undredth birthday arrived in August 2000, Queen Elizabeth had lost most of her eyesight, but she still wrote to and saw many friends, she still carried out public engagements and she still, in every way, celebrated life. The event was marked by a spectacular pageant on Horse Guards Parade in which representatives of all the organizations with which she had been associated during her life marched past her and Prince Charles. She loved it, and so did all those taking part.
For the next twenty months she continued, growing weaker, but still visiting her homes in Scotland, still entertaining friends, still writing letters.
28 February 1952 to Lionel Logue
Buckingham Palace
Dear Mr Logue
I am so grateful for your very kind letter, and very much touched by what you write.
I am indeed sorry to hear you have been so ill, & it was most kind of you to make the effort to write to me.
I think that I know perhaps better than anyone just how much you helped the King, not only with his speech, but through that his whole life, & outlook on life.
I shall always be deeply grateful to you for all you did for him.
He was such a splendid person, & I don’t believe that he ever thought of himself at all. I did so hope that he might have been allowed a few years of comparative peace after the many anguished years he has had to battle through so bravely.
But it was not to be.
I do hope that you will soon be better, & with again my heartfelt thanks,
I am, Yours very Sincerely,
Elizabeth R
13 March 1952 to Peter Cazalet
Buckingham Palace
My dear Peter,
[…] I think that your letter, like many others, got sent to the Queen by mistake and it was sent back to me here, so to make quite sure, would you put your initials in the corner of the envelope, & “personal” on top, when you write again? Owing to the fact that we are both ELIZABETH there is a slight muddle at the moment.
Yours sincerely,
Elizabeth R
Sunday undated [?late February–March 1952] to Queen Elizabeth II
The Royal Lodge
My Darling Lilibet
I am so sorry that I collapsed this evening, just when I didn’t want to, but I have been feeling very unhappy all today, and I suppose that talking about leaving Buckingham Palace just finished me off. I was longing to talk to you about plans anyway, as naturally you must move back to B.P. in the Spring, & I have been trying to think of these things all this week – and somehow when I wanted to discuss it with you, it all went wrong! I am quite sure that next time will be absolutely alright.
I expect that the best plan would be for you & Philip to move into the Belgian rooms, because you are quite independent there, & Papa & I lived there all through the war as you know.
That would give me time to move my things without any ghastly hurry, and I could be quite self contained upstairs, meals etc, and you would hardly know I was there. I do implore of you to put the children upstairs for the moment – it will only be for a short time, & my little rooms would be desperately uncomfortable for children, nurses & you. It is so important to keep a few rooms for yourselves – it is like having a house within a house where you can have all your own things, & when you move up to Papa’s & my rooms, I am sure that you will see what I mean.
It is so angelic of you both to tell me I can stay on for a bit at B.P., and I am most grateful for your thoughtfulness. I know that it took Granny some months to pack up everything, & I fear that I shall need some time too.
But what is a few months in a lifetime anyway! Thank you darling for being such an angelic daughter, & I do love you so,
Your very loving
Mummy
31 March 1952 to Viscount Davidson
Buckingham Palace
My dear Lord Davidson*
I was so deeply touched by your kindness in sending me the account of your talk with the King, and I want to send you my heartfelt thanks for your thought in writing so charmingly of such a personal and poignant episode.
Your little story brings those days back to me so clearly, tho’ they always seemed very close to the King & I. In fact only a few days before he died, we were saying how incredibly quickly the years had sped by since we married, & how it seemed only yesterday that we started our life together. Perhaps having lived through such turbulent & troublesome years, made the time go so quickly, there were so many things that we wanted to do, & so many plans we made, but during the War we said, ‘after the War’, & after the War it was ‘when things improve’, so alas, they did not materialise very often.
As you told me your story so well, & so delicately, I must tell you that we were ideally happy, due to the King’s wonderful kindness & goodness and thought for others. I never wanted to be with anyone but him, & during the last ten terrible years, he was a rock of strength and wisdom & courage. So that in thanking you for your letter, I thank you also for the advice you gave the King in 1922.
I am
Yours very sincerely
Elizabeth R.
28 April 1952 to the Marchioness of Salisbury*
Windsor Castle
My dearest Betty,
Thank you so very much for your angelic letter. I cannot tell you how touched I am that you should invite me to stay, and you can imagine how much I would love to be with you. If you are to be at Cranborne later on in the summer, could I come then?
I know that it is a healing place, with its great beauty & serenity & peace, & I know that I would love to be with you & Bobbety, who are so wonderfully understanding about that strange and devastating thing called sorrow.
There is no doubt that it changes one’s whole life, & one’s outlook on life, & I find everything a perpetual battle & struggle. But, as you know, the King never gave in, and I am determined to try & do what he would have wished.
Thank you so much too for sending me that charmingly expressed letter from Bob Thayer. It is so wonderful to know that Americans appreciated those qualities that the King had, which are not the glittering obvious ones, but things like truth & valour & strength.
Dearest Betty, you are such a good & angelic friend, and I long to see you again. Perhaps you will come & see me at Buckingham Palace where I return next week.
The blossom here is too lovely for words, & everything a glorious & tender green – almost unbearable.
With my love, ever your devoted friend
Elizabeth R
3 May 1952 to Sir Osbert Sitwell
Windsor Castle
My dear Sir Osbert,
It was delightful to see you again the other evening, and I wished that I could have made more sense because there is so much that I want to talk about, but the noise was so terrific, and the plunge for me so sudden that I felt slightly bewildered. But it was a great pleasure to sit next to you at that wonderful dinner served so exquisitely by all those beautiful Frasers, and I was so glad to see you looking well, & in such good heart.*
I did tell you, I think, that I tried to write to you, for I was deeply touched by your two kind letters and somehow I could not say what I wanted just then.
You write in such a very understanding way, & I knew that your sympathy was so real, & I was very grateful for what you said.
It is very difficult to realise that the King has left us, he was so much better, & so full of plans & ideas for the future, and I really thought he was going to have some years perhaps less anguished than the last fifteen. I think that those years after the war were terribly anxious & frustrating and it was all very hard & grinding work, and I longed for him to have some peace of mind. He was so young to die, and was becoming so wise in his Kingship. He was so kind too, and had a sort of natural nobility of thought & life, which sometimes made me ashamed of my narrow & more feminine point of view.
Such sorrow is a very strange experience – it really changes one’s whole life for better or worse, I don’t know yet.
I hope you will come and see me i
n London, & perhaps we might get Hannah [Gubbay] too, which would be very stimulating.
Yours very sincerely,
Elizabeth R
21 July 1952 to Queen Elizabeth II
Sandringham
My Darling Lilibet
I feel that I must tell you the most extraordinary & wonderful thing that has happened to me, which is, that when I arrived here on Saturday evening, I felt an amazing feeling of relief & peace, which I have not felt since Papa died.
It was just as if Sandringham opened its arms to me, & I sank into them thankfully. I can’t explain it, but I feel quite different here, and in a way it’s a great surprise. I suppose that when one is in great anguish, everything that happens each day opens a wound, & tho’ this place is utterly bound up with Papa, I love the people & all that happens here, & to be amongst them is a relief & a healing.
Isn’t it amazing – I can’t get over it.
When Papa succeeded, I remember we said to Granny, ‘you must always come to Sandringham whenever you want to, and please treat it as your home’, and I would so love it if you would say that to me too. I wouldn’t come often, but it is all so bound up with our life together, & it would be wonderful to be able to come once in a while.
I wonder whether this feeling will last! I don’t suppose it will, but I felt I must tell you – it is almost as if Papa said ‘come in darling, & rest’.
Perhaps one is closer to him than one knows.
Good bye darling, from your very loving Mummy
6 August 1952 to Arthur Penn
Buckingham Palace
My dear Arthur
When I was staying up in Caithness I passed a dear little Castle down by the sea,* and when I visited it, I discovered that it was going to be sold for nothing, just the value of the lead on the roof.
This seemed so sad, that I thought I would buy it & escape there occasionally when life became hideous! The old man who has lived there a long time was very anxious to give it to me, but I resisted the kind gesture and he has now offered it to me for £100!
Counting One's Blessings Page 50