A Brief History of the Private Life of Elizabeth II (15 page)

With his war record, his easy charm, integrity and familiarity with the ways of the Court, Townsend would have made a highly successful consort. Even in the 1950s there might have been no
strenuous objection to the Queen’s sister marrying this presentable commoner, but for the fact that Townsend was divorced. He was the wronged party, and his marriage had been a hasty wartime
one, but this made no difference. The Anglican Church, of which the Queen was Head, could not sanction such a high-profile union involving a divorcee. It was also considered, within the Royal
Household, that as a Court official he should not have had the presumption to allow this friendship to begin
and to develop. Prince Philip disliked Townsend and had the ear of
the Queen, who had the power to veto the marriage, for under the Royal Marriages Act she must approve all spouses. With such powerful disapproval and opposition, the relationship was not likely to
flourish. The matter was kept from press and public but by a quirk of fate a journalist, Audrey Whiting, spotted Margaret, who was outside the Abbey following the Coronation, make some adjustment
to – probably flicking off a speck of dust – the uniform of an RAF officer, who was soon identified. It was a gesture of such obvious intimacy that the game was up.

The press unearthed the whole story of their friendship. Margaret was a somewhat spoiled young woman who was used to wheedling until she got what she wanted. She had expected her mother and
sister to side with her because they had both remained relatively passive when she had told them of the situation. She came to realise, however, that this was because both of them wished to avoid
confrontation and were hoping that somehow the problem would solve itself. Townsend was transferred to Brussels as Air Attaché to get him out of the way. He remained there for two years, but
this was not a distant exile and the press was able to speculate that the couple were still in contact. When he returned, public speculation was at fever pitch. Whatever the view of the Court, a
good deal of public opinion supported Margaret’s right to marry the man she loved, yet if she did so she would have to give up all the privileges of her rank. She would find herself living
with a husband whose salary could not possibly keep her. Both parties discussed the future and decided that it was not viable for them to remain together. The Archbishop of Canterbury, on whom
Margaret called at Lambeth Palace, was brusquely told he could put away all the arguments he had been marshalling to persuade her to reconsider. She had already done so. She issued a simple
statement that read, in part: ‘I have decided not to marry
Group Captain Townsend. Subject to my renouncing my rights of succession, it might have been possible for me to
contract a civil marriage, but . . . conscious of my duty to the Commonwealth, I have resolved to put these considerations before all others.’ All her life, Margaret was attached to the
privileges that went with being royal. Without them she would have been miserable, and this influenced her choice. Nevertheless her decision to put duty before her own wishes was an uncanny echo of
the abdication crisis of 1936, although with the opposite outcome.

The Townsend affair was the beginning of the modern era in terms of Royalty and the media. The scandal surrounding Edward VIII had not been reported because the press had agreed to gag itself.
George VI, Queen Elizabeth and Princess Elizabeth had given reporters nothing to feed upon. Now there was a story that enabled the public to look inside the private lives of the Windsors, to take
sides, to criticise. Coming at a time when respect for all authority was declining, this showed that no institution could take for granted the goodwill of the public, or hope that its faults would
not be analysed and commented upon. It represented a sea change in the attitude of a press that had deferred to the throne since the 1870s. Even though both parties in the relationship behaved
honourably – their self-restraint and self-discipline in the face of a painful separation were deeply impressive – their private lives were seen as public property.

The Coronation had awakened a sense of pageantry as well as patriotism, and the Royal Family was able once again to provide a focus for this. The Queen attended Trooping the Colour dressed not
– as she had been in the 1940s – in a dark blue uniform with a peaked cap, but in a magnificent scarlet cutaway coat in the pattern of the 18th century and faced with the buttons of
whichever regiment was parading its colour that day. She wore a dark blue long skirt and a low, black hat of unique design on which the regiment’s cap-badge and plume
were
displayed. She also wore the medals to which she was entitled through her wartime service, and it is easy to imagine how proud of these she would have been for, unlike the Order of the Garter that
she also wore, she owed them not to her position but to having performed the same duties as thousands of other young women. She sat side-saddle, a thing she never did when riding for pleasure but
which gave her an appropriate dignity. When going to and from this event along the Mall, she looked straight ahead and remained expressionless. Those among the watching crowds who came from more
exuberant cultures often wondered why she did not smile or even acknowledge their presence, and may have interpreted her apparent aloofness as disdain. The answer was, of course, that she was a
soldier on duty, attending a parade. Throughout the ceremony itself she sat stiffly to attention, unable to show the least sign of fatigue or – in the June heat – discomfort, and she
saluted smartly. Everything about her had the customary sense of patient dedication to detail. One senior officer remarked gruffly that ‘she’s the only woman I know who can salute
properly’, but of course she would have trained as hard as any man on the parade ground.

Despite an affectionate marriage, the Queen and Prince Philip were often apart, especially as his own sphere of activity expanded. In 1956 he went, with his wife’s blessing, on a voyage on
Britannia
that lasted four months. He had missed the active life of the Navy, and this was an opportunity to revive something valuable from his past. After opening the Melbourne Olympics he
wandered the Southern Hemisphere, visiting a number of British territories that, because of their intense isolation, did not see Royalty from one reign to the next: the Falkland Islands, Tristan da
Cuhna, St Helena. He travelled almost 40,000 miles. This meant, of course, that he was away from his growing children and missed Christmas with them. He was also absent throughout the Suez Crisis,
when he could have been a steadying public presence. His
long maritime odyssey also fuelled rumours that his marriage was in difficulties, though it was probably approved by the
Queen as compensation for his lost naval career and as a break from Court ritual. His Equerry and general assistant, Michael Parker, was to be sued for divorce on their return – this news
leaked and obliged him to resign his position before the voyage even ended – and neither man was in a hurry to get back. Philip finally saw the Queen again in Portugal, where they were making
a state visit together. It was known that he had grown a beard at one point during the voyage, and when he was reunited with his wife aboard an aircraft he found that she, and her
ladies-in-waiting, were all sporting false whiskers. Her Majesty, in spite of this, does not like facial hair, and he would have been unlikely to keep his beard.

Amid the stresses of her new role, she found enormous pleasure in escaping to the world of the Turf. Since her wartime encounters with this (in 1945 she began her regular annual attendances at
Ascot) she had been edging closer to serious involvement, and in 1949 she had taken the first step. She and her mother, who had a similar wish to dabble in racing, had been persuaded to purchase
between them a steeplechaser called Monaveen. Although soundly recommended and initially successful, Monaveen died during a race and, while her mother remained devoted to steeplechasing, the
Princess decided to abandon ‘the sticks’ for flat racing. Only after the death of the Queen Mother in 2002 would her daughter take over her ‘jumpers’.

She had introduced personal racing colours; scarlet and with purple hoops on the sleeves, and a black cap. These were given up when she succeeded because she then inherited the Royal colours,
which had first been adopted by the Prince Regent: purple body with gold braid and scarlet sleeves. Black cap with a gold fringe (Princess Anne would revive and use the old colours when riding in a
race in 1987). She began to regularly attend race-meetings and, since her husband did not
share her enthusiasm, she was often in the company of Henry Herbert, Lord Porchester.
‘Porchie’ was to become her closest male friend. She had known him since they were both at Windsor during the war, and they had met at debutante parties. His knowledge of the Turf was
an inspiration to her, and in 1969 she would appoint him her Racing Manager – a post he continued to hold even after he succeeded as seventh Earl of Caernarvon. They would speak on the phone
very frequently – often daily – and his calls were put through immediately by the Palace switchboard. Another who shared her passion was Winston Churchill, her Prime Minister during the
years of her reign. Himself a successful owner, he could talk knowledgeably with her about horses once more weighty matters had been dealt with at their weekly audiences.

Given a thoroughbred as a wedding present, she had begun what would become a lifelong career as breeder and owner. When this fascination had matured, the means to further it already existed, in
the shape of the Royal Stud. Moved to Sandringham from its out-of-the-way setting at Hampton Court, this blossomed under the patronage of the new Queen. She had begun to take a close interest in
horse breeding, for she found that this was a field that favoured her strengths. A lifetime’s experience in the saddle, as well as long years of listening to stable-talk among experts, had
given her an impressive ability to judge a horse’s temperament and to assess its potential. Although she would never ride in a race herself she began, in 1954, a tradition during Ascot Week
of visiting the course on horseback early in the mornings to ride round it, accompanied by some of those who stayed with her at Windsor for the event. She could therefore sometimes add to her
knowledge of horses a personal experience of the track. Although she has horses trained and bred – she usually has about 40 in training – she does not bet.

Her retentive memory was as useful for memorising horses’ pedigrees as it was for grasping the essentials of a government
proposal, and she quickly accumulated a very
extensive knowledge. She kept – and still keeps – in her study a book containing the pedigrees of many thousands of horses, and she decides which stallions and mares will be mated as
well as choosing, before the start of each flat season, the races in which each of her horses in training will compete. She has always kept these records up to date herself, and it can be assumed
that poring over the lists of names and statistics has been an important part of the pleasure she derives from doing so. As with the gun dogs that she breeds at Sandringham, so with the horses born
and nurtured in her stables. The process takes time, patience and considerable expertise but produces long-term satisfaction and no doubt brings a welcome sense of calm to a very crowded life.

During the 1950s and early 1960s she enjoyed considerable success as an owner. Her first win as Queen was at Newmarket in May 1952, and 1954 was her best year. She was leading owner, as she
would be again in 1957. Her horse Aureole won the Coronation Cup as well as the King George VI Stakes, the Queen Elizabeth Cup and the Hardwicke Stakes. He was champion sire in 1960 and again the
following year. Her Majesty, though obviously in possession of good resources and good advice, is not in the same league of wealth as a number of billionaire owners, and it is not to be assumed
that her horses will triumph as a matter of course. She has, for instance, never had a Derby winner. Nevertheless she is extremely proud of the victories they have won, and during Ascot Week she
hosts a luncheon at Windsor for which the table is always decorated with the trophies she has won in the past.

The Queen had retained a great deal of her father’s style in the way she reigned. There were no immediate alterations, although the monarchy became – in small ways
– more informal during the 1950s. A small but characteristic change was that palace footmen no longer wore in their hair a white
‘powder’ concocted from flour
and water, stiffened with soap and starch. It was difficult to mix, took a long time to apply, smelt unpleasant and when outdoors (think of the weather at the Coronation) ran in the rain. Prince
Philip, who considered it ‘unmanly’, saw it as epitomising the sort of nonsense the monarchy should be throwing overboard. The Queen, always considerate towards her servants, no doubt
won their gratitude when she put a stop to it in 1955.

In the same year, the rules that effectively barred divorcees from the Royal Enclosure at Ascot were modified. Public attitudes to divorce were changing as a result of its increasing frequency,
for many wartime marriages had not survived the years of peace. This was not, however, a complete climb-down on the part of the Court. The Enclosure was being rebuilt and the new one would
accommodate more people. Within it was a small area – the Queen’s Lawn – in which the old rules still applied.

The quaintly pleasant custom of Royal Bounty, dating from Victoria’s reign, was discontinued in 1957. The sovereign had paid £3 and £4 to the parents of triplets and quads
respectively, provided that they were all healthy and their parents were married. Another form of Royal bounty was the giving of Maundy money. This – a symbolic annual gift to the poor from
the sovereign – was a moribund ancient custom revived by George V and held only in London, on the Thursday before Easter. In 1957 the Maundy service was held at St Albans Abbey, and in
subsequent years at Durham, Carlisle, Coventry, Ely and other places. As a means of making the monarch visible to a wider range of her subjects, it proved a great success.