ruling houses – had ended with the
Great War. King George VI, whose own happiness was entirely due to marrying for love, would not have considered letting Elizabeth or Margaret be wed for any other reason. Like any indulgent father
he would take a great deal of convincing that any young man was good enough for his daughter.
The senior aristocracy was seen as the most likely place to find a husband for the Princess and one or two young dukes – Grafton and Rutland – were discreetly considered, though both
were soon to make marriage plans of their own.
The King was fond enough of Philip, whose extrovert nature was in such stark contrast to his own, but a number of his courtiers were not enthusiastic. He was a member of a Royal House but it was
not one that was ancient, powerful or stable, and his father – divorced and living hand-to-mouth around Europe – had left an unedifying reputation. Philip himself was the nephew of a
marquess – Milford Haven – but showed none of the quiet urbanity that was the ideal of the aristocracy. He had been to a British boarding school but it was not the kind of traditional,
top-drawer establishment that would have been taken seriously by courtiers. He obviously had a rebellious streak – it has been suggested that this might have hindered his career had he stayed
in the Navy – and officials could sense friction ahead. Again, the fact that Mountbatten, himself something of an outsider, was behind him did his cause little good. He could be blunt and
disrespectful toward older people and it was wondered, given his striking looks, overwhelming confidence and social popularity (he enjoyed the friendship of women, and this could be
misinterpreted), whether he would be able to resist temptation enough to be a faithful husband. The King’s Private Secretary saw him as: ‘rough, uneducated and [would] probably [be]
unfaithful’.
Philip was to mature into a phlegmatic, often charming but frequently outspoken man. His accent and appearance, his attitudes and his sporting interests all epitomise the
English aristocracy. He would come to personify the British Establishment. It is strange to think that he was once disapproved of by that same Establishment for not fitting with its notion of what
was proper. Many decades later, when Princess Diana felt harassed by the expectations of senior courtiers, it surprised some people to learn that she had had support from Prince Philip. He, too,
had run the gauntlet of snobbish disapproval.
As shown, he had the support of Queen Mary. She had known him since his childhood – she used to invite him to tea at the Palace – and had cherished the hope that he would marry her
granddaughter. Although some rough corners might have to be knocked off, she saw in him qualities of drive, energy and confidence that would be useful to the monarchy, a counterbalance to the
modesty of her son and granddaughter.
The British public proved surprisingly reluctant to take to him. Once he had been seen in public with the Princess – the first occasion was the wedding of Patricia Mountbatten – the
press began to speculate openly. As the question of an engagement hovered, assumed but unspoken and unconfirmed (the Palace kept issuing denials when the matter was raised), there remained a
feeling that Elizabeth could do better. However handsome he might be, whatever his war-record might have been, opinion would have preferred that the Princess marry a compatriot. Philip was seen as
a foreigner in spite of his education, service and connections. A photograph of him, taken during the war and showing him with a beard (Elizabeth had kept the picture on her desk) was published and
in that clean-shaven era it made him look like some Ruritanian grandee and certainly not like a man to be taken seriously. A poll of readers carried out by the Sunday Pictorial found that 40
per cent disapproved of a match between them.
Elizabeth would naturally have found it
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