by Anne Edwards
The Royal Family has always been a vicarious outlet for the hardworking, everyday public. Conditions in the postwar period made this all the more true. Austerity had restricted the pleasures people could afford and a newsprint shortage had sharply reduced society reporting. The activities of the Royal Family, however, could be and were fully reported, with the result that Margaret had become “so to speak, the Joint National Debutante.” As such, she supplied romance, color and girlish freshness to the drab national scene, relieving the chill of harsh times with a touch of gaiety and impudence. The circle she was in became known as the “Margaret Set,” and the public avidly followed their activities.
“Most of the people who became my friends—and they generally had other and much closer friends of their own—were Sharman’s friends first,” Margaret later explained. “So if anything, it was her set not mine.”
Nonetheless, Margaret was now enjoying youthful pleasures and romantic relationships that Lilibet had never known; at the same time, her attachment to Townsend grew stronger.
Footnote
* Although Princess Elizabeth and her husband were generally referred to as the Edinburghs, technically the Princess had become a Mountbatten on her marriage. See footnote page 360.
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The Royal Family were devout Anglicans. The King regularly attended Divine Service and expected his wife and daughters to do so, too. Their faith, as well as his, “was profound and sincere.” A daily listener to a morning wireless prayer program called “Lift Up Your Hearts,” the King would invariably introduce the sermon of the day into his familial conversations at lunch or tea. When Lilibet was at home, he enjoyed sharing these discussions with her, although both were diffident in conversing about deeper spiritual issues.
Religious belief is a difficult thing to measure. Margaret’s religious conviction, however, was undoubtedly strong. At fourteen she had sought permission to be confirmed but was made to wait two years until she was sixteen, the age of Lilibet’s confirmation. Her deep and abiding spirituality had been inculcated by Alah who believed in godliness and cleanliness above all else. Margaret never traveled without her Bible (a small white leather edition tooled in gold and presented to her at her confirmation); she kept it by her bedside and read from it every night before going to sleep.
Her questions at the King’s mealtime theological discussions were often disconcerting. “What is love?” she once asked. “How can you define and recognise when it is real and when it is not?” Margaret was groping to find a place for herself, cramming her days and nights with friends and activity to fill the void she sensed was at the center of her being. Lilibet, on the other hand, was fulfilled, certain of the good choices she had made in her private life and steadfast in her path of duty. And while Lilibet’s public image had taken on a more dignified stature, Margaret was considered “a real cracker.” As one cockney admirer put it, “She’s a natural sort of a gel that likes a good time. I say let ’er ’ave ’er bit of a fling. She’ll ’ave to settle soon enough!” Almost overnight Margaret had become a media star and pro- and anti-Margaret factions made themselves heard.
From the rich conservatives came grumblings about her late hours and dancing, her public imbibing of a cocktail now and then, her smoking, and her new Molyneaux wardrobe that showed too much of the royal figure. (The Queen, in fact, had insisted one gown be sent back to Molyneaux’s London workrooms with an order that the décolleté neckline be raised.) But for every critic, Margaret had twice as many followers, and copies of her low-cut gowns and sleek black or gold cigarette holders, and cerise lipstick (called Margaret Rose-Red) became immensely popular.
She stood “a shade over five feet tall, had a 23 inch waist and 34 inch bust,” a fitter indiscreetly disclosed, commenting also, that her “large, expressive blue eyes,” seemed fixed “in a quizzical look.” Margaret’s nose was, perhaps, a tad too long to qualify her as a classic beauty. But she had an exquisite complexion, a winning smile and was vitally attractive. Her rebellious spirit, not her good looks, however, was responsible for her great popularity. She had a penchant for appearing at previously refused society parties (with an accompanying entourage), where—though unexpected—she was always most welcomed. Within the family structure she had been chastised innumerable times for surprising arrivals. During Ascot the previous year, when she was seventeen and considered too young to be seen at a racetrack, the family had gone off to the races leaving her at Windsor Castle with firm instructions (after a bit of a royal row) to stay there until they returned. Margaret commandeered a car and driver, and to the Queen’s horrified astonishment, turned up, “laughing and dressed to the nines,” in the Royal Enclosure.
Chips Channon recalled of that season, after the races, going to “Coppins for cocktails, which were served on the lawn. She was amazingly magnificent, the lovely Duchess [Marina, Duchess of Kent] and carried an old-fashioned parasol with a long handle, almost entirely of jewels, mostly sapphires which sparkled in the sunlight. The King and Queen appeared ... the Queen was still in her Ascot frock of white with pearls and rubies, but the King had changed into a blue suit.... She was round-faced and smiled her world-famous smile, and smelt, to use her favourite word ‘delicious.’ ... The King [was] in a rollicking mood—after several glasses of champagne.” It was no wonder that Margaret wanted to join in the Ascot festivities. The races were thrilling, the display of clothes and jewels breathtaking and the parties before and after the races, the most lighthearted of the year.
Upon Margaret’s return from the Coronation of Queen Juliana of the Netherlands, rumors had spread that she was in love and would soon marry. Sonny Blandford was believed to be “the husband presumptive,” and a romantic story circulated that “as he led his unit of the Life Guards past Buckingham Palace, he delayed the eyes right until the moment he could have a good, long look at Margaret’s window.” Whether the account was true or not, the romance was over almost before it started, and with its demise the “Margaret stakes” shifted into high gear.
Every young man in her circle was considered a contender for her hand and came under unsparing press scrutiny in the United States as well as in Britain. Much emphasis was placed on the American connections of this otherwise diverse group. Blandford’s paternal grandmother was Consuelo Vanderbilt. Porchy Porchester’s mother was a Wendell of New York; his stepmother, the American actress Tilly Losch. Billy Wallace’s stepfather was the American author and publishing executive Herbert Agar, and Jeremy Tree’s mother was Nancy Perkins of Richmond, Virginia. The King and Queen attended the parties at the American Embassy hosted by the gregarious Ambassador, his charming wife and their perky daughter, who, The Washington Post was quick to point out, looked like “an idealized version of a [college] homecoming queen.”
Lilibet had always bowed to her parents’ wishes. Margaret was not easily controlled. Since her father’s health was foremost in her mother’s mind, the Queen was far more lenient than she might otherwise have been. Crawfie had retired with her husband to her cottage in Kensington Gardens. And Lilibet, straining under a tiring schedule and great responsibilities, could not (and, perhaps, did not wish to) monitor her sister’s deportment. Not that Margaret was in any way wild. The most that could be said about her behavior was that she was provocative, lively and, at times, daring. One of the male members of her set confided that “hand-holding and a good-night kiss” were as far as a date would dare to go with any of the young women in Margaret’s social circle.
“She’s a hell of a girl—real zing,” an American reporter claimed he was told by one of Margaret’s swains, and gave a lively description of Margaret’s “high-flying” night life. “If a theater party is in the plans, a procession of cars leaves the palace shortly before 7, with Margaret and her escort in the lead and a Scotland Yard car not far behind. After the theater the group goes to the Society, the Bagatelle or some other fashionable restaurant for supper, and from there, to the Four Hundred—of all the clubs her favorite and su
itably described by one friend as ‘a small black hole, simply marvelous.’ ... Margaret loves to dance, and she may continue with hardly a pause until 2, 3 or 4 in the morning. Her escort then delivers her back to the darkened palace, where a servant has been waiting to let her in. And with the presence of the servant, the ever-vigilant Scotland Yard man and her lady-in-waiting, there are no long goodnights at the door.”
This constituted a fair, if somewhat misleading, description of Margaret’s social outings, although the constant surveillance of the press corps might well have included as yet another deterrent to passion. Margaret went out dancing once or twice a week and to a country weekend gathering every two or three weeks. Because whatever she did made headlines, she conveyed the image of the party-princess. She obviously managed to enjoy herself. On the other hand she had taken on her public duties—the sponsorship of half a dozen public organizations, the official receptions to attend, the hospitals, factories and housing developments to inspect, the committee work and speeches to be given—with enormous grace. And when she accompanied Lilibet on any official engagement, she did so with the proper reticence expected of the sister to the future Queen of England.
Margaret loved life and never more than now as she saw her father failing. She enjoyed her unique position and the special privileges that came with being a Princess and did not mind the loss of privacy that was its price. Had she not been Royal, she would have coped admirably with stardom for she had what might well be called a celebrity personality, possessing a constant need not just for attention but for applause.
“Dined with the Douglases at [a small party at] the American Embassy,” Noël Coward wrote in his diary for November 22, 1949. “Afterwards, played canasta with Princess Margaret as partner. We won. Then I sang all the new songs for the Queen and she really most obviously loved them. Princess Margaret obliged with songs at the piano. Surprisingly good. She has an impeccable ear, her piano playing is simple but has perfect rhythm, and her method of singing is really very funny. The Queen was ... genuinely proud of her chick. Altogether a most charming evening.”
To perform comedic songs at the piano before a man who was recognized as the master of the sophisticated and humorous lyric took great confidence, which Margaret possessed. To succeed and win the praise of such an uncompromising authority could only create a great ambivalence for her. Theater and film personalities, like Danny Kaye (who had recently taken London by storm after a critically acclaimed and sold out appearance at the Paladium) and Peter Sellers, were now added to her coterie of close friends.
The press made much of these theatrical alliances, which on Margaret’s part were formed out of mutual interest and a kindred talent for mimicry. Margaret perfected a devastating imitation of Kaye that he insisted she do at small gatherings, and Sellers did a biting takeoff on Margaret puffing at her long cigarette holder, which she would ask him to repeat. Margaret’s humor could be cutting but she was able “to take it as well as dish it out.”
She was described by one of her associates as “an immense dynamism that had no outlet except on a narrow social basis,” but the time was not yet right for someone so close to the Throne “to have a career of one’s own or to launch a private enterprise.” Her life lacked direction. Her girlfriends seemed satisfied when they had a particular beau and went quite easily from one to another. Margaret tried hard to adopt this philosophy. But none of the young men in her circle touched a deep-enough chord to affect her.
The suitor most favored by the King was John “Johnny” Montagu-Douglas-Scott, Earl of Dalkeith, a lanky, red-haired Scotsman four years older than Margaret. They had known each other since childhood and although not related by blood shared several close alliances. Dalkeith’s aunt was Alice, Duchess of Gloucester, who was also Margaret’s aunt; his sister, Lady Caroline Montagu-Douglas-Scott, was a good friend; and Queen Mary was the Earl’s godmother. The richest of all of her swains, Dalkeith was the son of the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry. He would, besides the two dukedoms, inherit a marquisate, five earldoms, three viscountcies and six baronies, as well as 500,000 acres and family treasures that included several stately homes in Scotland and a priceless art collection.
The King and his advisers believed the union would be popular, and her father encouraged the friendship as he had never done with Philip and Lilibet and he could not understand Margaret’s resistance, for Dalkeith was young, attractive, rich and titled. The Earl was also a crack shot and the King invited him to Sandringham to shoot. Margaret was still too young in the King’s view to become engaged, but his illness provoked him into wanting to be sure his unpredictable daughter would eventually settle down with the right sort of man.
“Margaret and Johnny are great friends,” one of the Earl’s cousins reported, “but they are personally quite incompatible. Margaret adores London, the theatre, nightclubs and dancing. Johnny lives for hunting, shooting and fishing.” These differences did not seem to deter Dalkeith, who remained on the scene for a number of years.
Margaret’s days began routinely with the mail. She received twenty to thirty daily requests to endorse a charity or appear somewhere in an official capacity. Jennifer Bevan screened these requests; and the ones that she felt most appropriate, Margaret would discuss with Major Harvey, her mother’s Private Secretary. She took a genuine interest in the activities that were finally agreed upon, having always liked the opportunity “to get out and see how things work.” On her own she had instigated visits to Scotland Yard and the House of Commons and came away from the latter with an addition to her repertoire of imitations: Prime Minister Attlee sitting “scrouched up on the front bench of Labour’s side of the House of Commons, with his legs propped high on a table. At the risk of her modesty,” she amused her friends with a wicked parody.
A day seldom passed that she did not share at least one meal—lunch, tea or dinner—with her parents. She found time daily to practice on the piano and walk her dogs in the garden at Buck House. Her late hours were a source of irritation to her father, but she could still manage to lighten a difficult situation. When a Scottish minister came to tea, Margaret was asked to accompany herself on the piano. To the Queen’s dismay, she began to sing the rather saucy “I’m Jist a Girl Who Cain’t Say No” from Oklahoma! Her mother “tired to shush her, but the King, after his initial shock laughed heartily” and the minister even managed a genuine “haw-haw.” Actually, the Queen admired Margaret’s animated spirits and “occasionally was a coconspirator in planning [her] escapades.” She had even contributed to the design of the rakish can-can costume Margaret had worn for the headline-getting party at the American Embassy when she and her friends were photographed doing their high kicks.
Fashion had always interested Margaret more than it had Lilibet, and with the recent end to clothing rationing her wardrobe had grown considerably. Like her Aunt Marina, the Duchess of Kent, she leaned toward the French designers Molyneaux and Dior. Navy blue and bright colors predominated—the little black dress that was de rigueur to most style-conscious women was denied her since black was considered inappropriate for the immediate Royal Family except in time of mourning.
On her eighteenth birthday a small part of the savings set aside for her as a child by the King was turned over to her as a modest allowance. But this left her far from financially independent and she had to rely upon her parents for most of her needs until her twenty-first birthday, when she was due to receive a State allowance and other bequests.
She embarked on an Italian holiday in June 1949, where she met the Pope in Rome and returned via Paris, her partying and new Dior outfits having been daily fodder for the press. (After seeing Margaret at a reception at Windsor Castle during Ascot, earlier that month, Chips Channon had commented “... already she is a public character and I wonder what will happen to her? There is already a Marie Antoinette aroma about her.”)
Townsend and Jennifer Bevan met her at London Airport.* On the way back to Buck House Townsend asked her to cons
ent to his entering an aircraft in her name for the Annual King’s Cup Air Race and she agreed, “Sportingly, but with no wild show of enthusiasm.” The race was held at the end of July. Townsend did not finish a winner and two aircraft collided, killing the pilots. But though it ended tragically the air race formed a new bond between Margaret and Townsend.
Cecil Beaton was commissioned to take her official nineteenth-birthday portrait. “She was at Lords for the Eton and Harrow match and got back a bit late,” he recorded, “but she is such a quick dresser that a few moments after her return she appeared changed into the new evening dress Hartnell had supplied her that morning—a dull dress of white tulle embroidered with sequin butterflies and a rainbow tulle scarf around the waist [the Queen had insisted she wear a gown by an English designer]. She looked very pretty and wore quite a lot of make-up—and the eyes are of piercing blue ... very pristine and youthful. There is no interim between a shut serious mouth and a flashing grin. No semi-smile ... This is very exciting she said as she walked up the long red carpeted arcade toward the Chinese drawing room in which we had placed all our complicated apparatus. I trust I haven’t dragged you away from Lords— Oh it wasn’t a drag, she said.