ROYALTY

glamorous war hero Jamie Stuart, the younger son of the 17th Earl of Moray and by an ironic chance equerry to the man she did eventually marry, Prince Albert, second son of King George V. As Stuart’s son once told me, ‘they were deeply in love’. Stuart, however, was briskly dealt with by Queen Mary, who, having decided after a visit of inspection to Glamis that Elizabeth was the girl for her son, managed to have Stuart despatched to the oilfields of Oklahoma. The way was clear for the twice-rebuffed Albert (later Duke of York), whose third proposal was accepted. From then on, the path ahead was one of duty, dignity and discretion. The famous charm, with its blend of smiling attention, slightly roguish flirtatiousness and unhurried courtesy, carried all before it. It was not long before the adjective ‘gracious’ could be found in any description of her. The abdication of her husband’s older brother King Edward VIII, resulting from his decision to marry Wallis Simpson, projected the Yorks on to the throne. It is a safe guess that Elizabeth detested Wallis for her part in this, but since she believed that royal family matters should never be discussed outside the royal family, there is no record of her true emotions over it – yet. Throughout the war, she was at the King’s side, supporting and encouraging him, visiting the bombed areas with him, always presenting an image of courage and optimism. For many she set the behavioural style of a queen consort. The death of George VI in 1952 turned Elizabeth’s life upside down. At one stroke she lost loved husband, home and, if one can so call it, job. As with many widows, her grief took even her by surprise and for a time it was thought that she would retire altogether from public life. But encouraged by friends and by her own steely determination, she rallied, carving out a role for herself as well as creating a private life as leisurely and luxurious as that of her Edwardian childhood, helped by the devoted staff of courtiers and servants surrounding her. ‘By the time Princess Margaret married [Tony Armstrong-Jones] in 1960 the Queen Mother’s life was exactly as she wished it to be,’ writes Vickers. There was racing, public engagements, reading, letterwriting and lunches and dinners with friends, where her sense of enjoyment and fun, as well as her gift for mimicry, contributed largely to the success of these gatherings. The food, often based on the finest Scottish fare, was excellent and lavish. There were elevenses,

Pining for a large martini

afternoon tea, cream, butter, chocolates, martinis and champagne – her fondness for a good drink was legendary and her guests shared in it fully. Disappointments, turbulent family affairs such as the unravelling marriage and later divorce of her grandson the Prince of Wales were treated the same way, by ‘ostriching’ – the name given by her staff to her habit of metaphorically burying her head in the sand at the prospect of any fearsome tornado appearing over the gilded horizon. All unpleasantness was dealt with in the same way: she did not even visit the faithful Sir Martin Gilliat in his terminal illness, owing to what Vickers describes as her ‘ingrained dislike of visiting dying friends’. She made few concessions to

advancing years. Still smiling, still clearly enjoying life, with a blameless reputation and an indomitable spirit, she remained immensely popular. When she died in April 2002 over 200,000 people filed past her coffin as she lay in state in Westminster Hall. It is difficult to see how anyone could have made a better job than Vickers of putting together the immense panorama of a life spanning over a century. His research is impeccable, his sources are wide and his own notes are invaluable. These, together with bibliography, family trees, appendices and a comprehensive index, occupy 100-odd pages at the back of the book. There are some snappy vignettes: Princess Margaret throwing a book at her mother’s head during the Townsend affair, Queen Elizabeth herself giving vent to her (post-war) dislike of the Japanese by saying: ‘Come on everybody – Nip on! Nip on!’ when the Japanese Crown Prince was staying for Royal Ascot and her wish that the Japanese Sword of Surrender be put on display was countermanded by the Queen. There is a plethora of detail – by the end it began to seem as if there was not a meal I had not shared or a frock with which I was not familiar – much of it fascinating but some titbits hardly germane. Cecil Beaton, for instance, ‘was disappointed that the princesses did not seem to have had their hair washed in honour of his visit’. Yet the private opinions and emotions behind the public face of the woman once described as ‘a steel marshmallow’ remain as well hidden as in her lifetime. For what the last Queen-Empress reallythought and felt about the dramatis personae and events of her long life, we shall have to wait for the Shawcross biography. Meanwhile, Vickers has done her proud. To order this book at £16, see order form on page 78

LITERARY REVIEW Dec 2005 / Jan 2006

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