The Queen Mother (71 page)

From the Embassy in Baghdad came a letter from her old suitor Archie Clark Kerr rejoicing in the fact that there was now a Scottish queen on the throne.
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Osbert Sitwell wrote to her: ‘I think the country is very fortunate in finding you both at such a time.’
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She replied with characteristic brio: ‘One can hardly believe that we could have survived such drama & tragedy, & yet, here we are, back at the old business – Buckling to, doing our best, keeping the old Flag flying hoorah, and of course it is the only thing that
is
worth doing now. I believe now, more than ever before, that this country is worth sacrificing a good deal for. In fact, if I was exiled, I should die, anyway in the spirit.’
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She was aware that she and the King would probably
be ‘moderately unpopular’ for some time, ‘but as long as our friends stick to us, one can shoulder any amount of trouble. Certainly what is called the
burden
of Kingship is truly said. The whole thing is a burden – when you are youngish and an Aunt Sally for verbal skittles, especially; & yet, the more difficult it all is, the more worth while.’
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She thanked D’Arcy Osborne for his ‘dear, understanding letter. I do wish that you had been here during these days of drama & tragedy and disappointment … – everything seems like a bad dream. But the curious thing is, that I am not afraid. Inadequate, but un-frightened.’
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A
T
THE
BEGINNING
of 1937 there was a malicious campaign of gossip against the King. He had decided, with great reluctance, to postpone an Accession Durbar in India that his brother had agreed for the winter of 1937–8. The announcement that the new King would not now undertake such an important trip and ceremony was taken by some to show that he was weak and frail. Concern on this score had been inadvertently augmented by Cosmo Lang. In his controversial post-abdication broadcast, he had not only criticized the Duke of Windsor’s behaviour, he had also drawn attention to the new King’s speech defect. He claimed, ‘he has brought it into full control, and to those who hear it it need cause no sort of embarrassment, for it causes none to him who speaks.’
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The Archbishop’s remarks were unfortunate; they led the public to expect serious problems with the new King’s diction and this in turn increased the King’s nervousness. It was soon whispered that, although his appearance was tolerable, he was in fact quite unfit to be king. Supporters of the Duke of Windsor claimed that King George VI might not even be able to survive the Coronation, let alone all the subsequent duties of kingship.

The Duke of Windsor’s own behaviour did not help. Queen Elizabeth was subsequently blamed, by some at least, for the fact that the relationship between the brothers, once so close, deteriorated further and further during 1937. But it is hard, in face of the evidence, to hold her responsible – her overriding concern was to sustain and encourage her husband, to give him the confidence to try and rebuild the monarchy in which they believed so strongly. The bad blood that arose between the brothers was sad but perhaps inevitable.

The Queen was convinced that her husband needed all possible
help to resist the real but, she thought, improper demands of his brother. Almost alone in Austria, separated from Mrs Simpson until her decree absolute came through at the end of April, the Duke of Windsor spent a great deal of time on the telephone. He constantly called his brother, the King, and took easily to advising him on what he should do. George VI found these telephone calls difficult, as Walter Monckton recorded with sympathy. It was not just that he had always admired his brother. ‘The Duke of Windsor was particularly quick in understanding and decision and good on the telephone whereas King George VI had not the same quickness and was troubled by the impediment in his speech.’
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Sometimes the Duke’s unsought political advice ran counter to that which the new King was receiving from his government. More difficult were the personal matters. Even before the end of January 1937 the Duke was constantly telephoning about money, about returning to Fort Belvedere, about his attendance at the Coronation, about members of his family coming to his eventual wedding, and above all about Mrs Simpson’s title when they married. Arguments over these issues were painful for all concerned throughout the early months of 1937 – and thereafter.

The King’s brother-in-law Lord Harewood understood the threat that the Duke represented to the King, on a personal and a political level, and believed that it was absolutely essential to keep him out of the country for five, or even ten, years. He thought that the King should treat his brother’s return as a matter for the Cabinet to decide.
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The King and Queen were aware that opinion at all levels of the country was still divided. Malicious rumours about both Kings continued to swirl around the smart houses of London as alliances changed and those who had been friendly with the former King or, worse, with Mrs Simpson found that they were now out of fashion. In fact, given the way in which the country and society had been riven by Edward VIII’s priorities and his abdication, the new King and Queen were quite indulgent of those who had taken the side of the former King. Lord Brownlow, who had accompanied Mrs Simpson to the south of France in December, lost his position as lord in waiting, but no other major figures suffered for their involvement with King Edward and his set. Indeed, the new King embraced his brother’s most trusted confidant, Walter Monckton. It was a tribute both to Monckton’s
extraordinary integrity and to the King’s judgement that the King conferred on him the first knighthood of the new reign. He remained ever after a diligent and extraordinary servant of his country and his King and the only channel of communication who was also trusted by the exiled Duke of Windsor.

Others enjoyed mocking the former King’s friends. Soon after the abdication Osbert Sitwell wrote a poem, ‘Rat Week’, in which he denounced all those who had sought the favour of Edward VIII and Mrs Simpson and then jumped ship.

Sitwell was concerned that, despite their long friendship, the new Queen might not like his poem and he did not send it to her himself, telling her later that he thought it would be ‘an impertinence’.
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He had no reason to worry. She loved it, writing to him, ‘I must tell you first of all, that we all thought your satire absolutely brilliant. It really is perfect – it hits hard (and never too hard for me) and is wickedly amusing.’

In this unusually acerbic letter, which perhaps betrayed the strain she was under at the time, she told him what a relief it was to have his amusing and friendly letter ‘amongst the vast amount of begging letters, complaints, appeals, warnings, lunatic ramblings etc which go to make up one’s daily postbag. Not forgetting bad poetry, bad drawings & paintings, bad music & other bad things sent by the mad & bad who seem to people the world. So you can imagine how one falls greedily on the few friendly letters that come, and yours was very welcome!’
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A
FTER
THE
RELAXING
sojourn at Sandringham, the family had the unwelcome prospect of beginning life at Buckingham Palace. None of them wished to leave the happy home at 145 Piccadilly for the rather grim ‘office’ of the Palace. Queen Elizabeth later described this as the worst house move of her life.
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The date chosen was 15 February. The King drove up from Royal Lodge and the Queen went first to an engagement at the British Industries Fair at White City in west London.
The Times
reported, ‘The whole move was accomplished without ceremony, and no change in the exterior appearance of the Palace will be visible to the casual passer-by. The Royal Standard flew while Their Majesties were still living in Piccadilly, and no increase in the number of sentries at the gates is made. It is understood that the King and Queen will use the rooms on the first floor formerly occupied by King George and Queen Mary.’ The rooms were not yet ready for them, and they lived temporarily on the ground floor. It was not very comfortable, but at least the young Princesses enjoyed playing in the broad corridors. With her mother-in-law’s diligent advice – this time welcome – the Queen set about acquiring some new furnishings. At the suggestion of Queen Mary, Mrs Charles Rothschild gave her several sets of silk curtains from her family’s house in Piccadilly. ‘Hooray!’ wrote the Queen, ‘what splendid news about the curtains, and how wonderful a success your letter had! It really is a triumph, and most kind of Mrs Rothschild to offer us that lovely silk. One can get nothing to touch it nowadays.’ Major Williams, the official responsible for the furnishings at Buckingham Palace, ‘turned quite pale with excitement when I told him!’ Queen Mary also tracked down a chandelier and wall lights for her.
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The Queen had started making appointments to her own Household. She was able to surround herself with people she knew well, liked and trusted. As duchess of York she had had just two ladies in waiting, Helen Graham and Lettice Bowlby (with her great friends Lavinia Annaly and Tortor Gilmour as temporary additions); now she had a hierarchy of nine ladies. Her most senior lady, the Mistress of the Robes, by tradition had to be a duchess, and she chose Doris Vyner’s aunt, Helen, Duchess of Northumberland. Below the Mistress of the Robes came three Ladies of the Bedchamber: Countess Spencer (Cynthia, sister of the Queen’s girlhood friend Katie Hamilton and future grandmother of Lady Diana Spencer), Viscountess Halifax (Dorothy, wife of the Lord Privy Seal and future Foreign Secretary),
Viscountess Hambleden and Lady Nunburnholme (both friends of her debutante years, and the latter a bridesmaid at her wedding). Then there were four Women of the Bedchamber: Helen Graham and Lettice Bowlby stayed on in this role, and Queen Elizabeth also appointed Katie Seymour (née Hamilton) and Marion Hyde,
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with Lady Victoria Wemyss, a cousin on her mother’s side, as Extra Woman of the Bedchamber. The Earl of Airlie – Joe, friend and neighbour at Glamis since the Queen’s childhood – became her Lord Chamberlain, while Basil Brooke, the Duke of York’s Comptroller since 1924, became her Treasurer. A little later she took on a private secretary of her own, Captain Richard Streatfeild.

Their first official engagement as monarchs was a visit to the East End of London on 13 February. Originally this visit was to have been made by King Edward VIII on 12 December – in the event the day after the abdication. The invitation had come from the mayors of five boroughs and it was then extended to King George VI, with the request that the Queen came too ‘as she is so very popular in our district’.
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Lord Cromer, Lord Chamberlain and head of the King’s Household, thought it was important to accept, for ‘there is a growing impression in the minds of the ignorant that the last King was “pushed out” largely because of the interest he took in the poor, which did not find favour in the eyes of the rich, nor of the Government people who are supposed to have disapproved of the interest taken in the Distressed Areas in Wales, and elsewhere … These ideas are, of course, fantastic but at the same time they appear to be rooted and to be spreading in the minds of the ignorant.’ He recommended therefore that the King and Queen should visit the East End as soon as might be possible.
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They agreed and the visit was a great success; the streets were filled with flags, bunting and cheering crowds.

In March the first official parties of the new reign were given – a tea party at Buckingham Palace for the Diplomatic Corps on 11 March was followed by an afternoon reception five days later, at which Countess Spencer took a select number of the 500 guests to talk to the Queen. The Queen, she wrote, ‘did it beautifully, & appeared to
wish
to talk to each guest – a great gift’. Queen Mary was also there,
‘looking wonderful in dead black lace &
miles
of pearls – also the two little Princesses – most pleasing to the eye in the sombre atmosphere of the Palace’.
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Next day there was a formal dinner at the Palace. Afterwards, Harold Nicolson recorded, the Queen talked to her guests. ‘She wears upon her face a faint smile indicative of how much she would have liked her dinner-party were it not for the fact that she was Queen of England. Nothing could exceed the charm or dignity which she displays, and I cannot help feeling what a mess poor Mrs Simpson would have made of such an occasion … The Queen teases me very charmingly about my pink face and my pink views.’
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At the end of that week the Queen had a more amusing engagement at what was to become her favourite sport – she went to the Grand National at Aintree.

Easter 1937 was like the old days: they spent it once again at Windsor Castle. They and the Princesses were warmly cheered by large crowds as they drove from Royal Lodge through the Great Park. Their party included Clement Attlee and his wife Violet. Attlee wrote to his brother Tom, ‘The K and Q were very pleasant and easy to get on with.’
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Osbert Sitwell was delighted to be among their guests, although he worried beforehand to his sister-in-law, Georgia, ‘It will be lovely seeing it, and in grand state – Windsor liveries, gold plate, bands etc. – but I’m rather terrified.’
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Also invited were the Duff Coopers, who had been on the
Nahlin
cruise. Lady Diana Cooper decided it was best to be frank about her friendship with Edward VIII and told the King at dinner, ‘I’m afraid I’m a Rat, Sir’ – a remark that the King enjoyed passing on to Osbert Sitwell. When Lady Diana retired to bed, her husband stayed behind for ‘an hour’s so-called drinking tea with the Queen. She put her feet up on a sofa and talked of Kingship and “the intolerable honour” but not of the [abdication] crisis.’ Lady Diana noted, ‘Duff so happy, me rather piqued.’ She thought that Windsor compared well with Fort Belvedere. ‘That was an operetta, this is an institution.’
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