A Brief History of the Private Life of Elizabeth II by Michael Paterson Page B
Authors: Michael Paterson
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humiliating to have her relationship debated in the national press and, feeling that it was no one’s business but her own, she
could be nettled if even well-wishers brought up the matter. She was shocked when, during a visit to a factory, someone called out: ‘Where’s Philip?’ ‘That was
horrible!’ she said. ‘Poor Lil,’ her sister commiserated. ‘Nothing of your own. Not even your love affair.’
In the autumn of 1946, Philip was invited to Balmoral. In a sense he, too, was waiting to see what would happen. He has given the impression that the understanding between them gradually
deepened into certainty, and perhaps the whole Household was in suspense awaiting the news. The purpose of his stay there was, at least partly, to give him a final and thorough vetting as to his
suitability for life in the Royal Family. It has been speculated that there is what is called ‘the Balmoral test’. Any prospective spouse who fails to enjoy the spartan surroundings, or
the tiring days spent tramping the hills in the rain, will not do. One who immediately passed this had been Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, while a conspicuous failure was her sister-in-law, Wallis Simpson
(on first glimpsing the tartan carpets, she had exclaimed: ‘Those will have to go!’). If there is such a test, there was little danger that Philip would be found wanting. As a schoolboy
at Gordonstoun he was already accustomed to living in northern Scotland. He was keen on outdoor pursuits, and adapted without difficulty to the shooting-and-stalking culture of Deeside.
Philip and Elizabeth became engaged at some point during those weeks. Royal betrothals are not always secret – we know exactly when and where Victoria proposed to Albert, and even what was
said – but in this case both partners have kept the details to themselves.
Yet there was no public announcement. The King wanted to delay the news until after a visit to South Africa that would be made early in 1947. All four members of the immediate RoyalFamily were to go, and they would be away for four months. Elizabeth, for the second and last time in her life, collided with the wishes of her parents. The first time, over the issue
of joining the ATS, she had got her way, though with a compromise – having to live at home – that robbed the experience of much of its value. Now she wished to marry sooner rather than
later. Despite her stubbornness, she gave way to her parents. It cost her some anguish to do so, but she not only accepted her father’s request to delay, she also – once she had married
and the waiting was over – wrote to the King and told him that he had been right to insist on this. In comparison with the arguments that many young women have with their parents, these contretemps seem mild indeed, even though the issues at stake were significant. They show both what a placid and conciliatory nature the Princess had, and what a loving family she belonged
to.
Why was the King so intent on secrecy? There were several reasons. First of all, Elizabeth was not yet 21, and the King wanted her to have passed that milestone – to have officially left
childhood for adulthood – before the question of her marriage was made public. Secondly, the man she wished to marry was not a British citizen, although he had served in the British Forces.
He was in the process of becoming naturalised, but even his Royal connections could not speed up the wheels of bureaucracy, and his papers had not come through until 7 February – after the
time the tour had begun (somewhat absurdly he was, through Hanoverian descent, eligible for automatic citizenship all along). Thirdly, the King was a doting parent who did not wish to part with his
daughter. He had so greatly valued the compact little unit that was his family that he dreaded its breaking up, and he was to some extent putting off the moment of parting. Fourthly, he wanted to
be sure that Elizabeth was certain. Because of her high
could be nettled if even well-wishers brought up the matter. She was shocked when, during a visit to a factory, someone called out: ‘Where’s Philip?’ ‘That was
horrible!’ she said. ‘Poor Lil,’ her sister commiserated. ‘Nothing of your own. Not even your love affair.’
In the autumn of 1946, Philip was invited to Balmoral. In a sense he, too, was waiting to see what would happen. He has given the impression that the understanding between them gradually
deepened into certainty, and perhaps the whole Household was in suspense awaiting the news. The purpose of his stay there was, at least partly, to give him a final and thorough vetting as to his
suitability for life in the Royal Family. It has been speculated that there is what is called ‘the Balmoral test’. Any prospective spouse who fails to enjoy the spartan surroundings, or
the tiring days spent tramping the hills in the rain, will not do. One who immediately passed this had been Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, while a conspicuous failure was her sister-in-law, Wallis Simpson
(on first glimpsing the tartan carpets, she had exclaimed: ‘Those will have to go!’). If there is such a test, there was little danger that Philip would be found wanting. As a schoolboy
at Gordonstoun he was already accustomed to living in northern Scotland. He was keen on outdoor pursuits, and adapted without difficulty to the shooting-and-stalking culture of Deeside.
Philip and Elizabeth became engaged at some point during those weeks. Royal betrothals are not always secret – we know exactly when and where Victoria proposed to Albert, and even what was
said – but in this case both partners have kept the details to themselves.
Yet there was no public announcement. The King wanted to delay the news until after a visit to South Africa that would be made early in 1947. All four members of the immediate RoyalFamily were to go, and they would be away for four months. Elizabeth, for the second and last time in her life, collided with the wishes of her parents. The first time, over the issue
of joining the ATS, she had got her way, though with a compromise – having to live at home – that robbed the experience of much of its value. Now she wished to marry sooner rather than
later. Despite her stubbornness, she gave way to her parents. It cost her some anguish to do so, but she not only accepted her father’s request to delay, she also – once she had married
and the waiting was over – wrote to the King and told him that he had been right to insist on this. In comparison with the arguments that many young women have with their parents, these contretemps seem mild indeed, even though the issues at stake were significant. They show both what a placid and conciliatory nature the Princess had, and what a loving family she belonged
to.
Why was the King so intent on secrecy? There were several reasons. First of all, Elizabeth was not yet 21, and the King wanted her to have passed that milestone – to have officially left
childhood for adulthood – before the question of her marriage was made public. Secondly, the man she wished to marry was not a British citizen, although he had served in the British Forces.
He was in the process of becoming naturalised, but even his Royal connections could not speed up the wheels of bureaucracy, and his papers had not come through until 7 February – after the
time the tour had begun (somewhat absurdly he was, through Hanoverian descent, eligible for automatic citizenship all along). Thirdly, the King was a doting parent who did not wish to part with his
daughter. He had so greatly valued the compact little unit that was his family that he dreaded its breaking up, and he was to some extent putting off the moment of parting. Fourthly, he wanted to
be sure that Elizabeth was certain. Because of her high
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