Behind the Palace Doors (40 page)

Churchill graciously responded to his sovereign:

Not content to merely observe events from home, George VI was always eager to join the fighting men whenever possible, boosting their morale as well as his own. “He liked the simple life of a soldier,” Supreme Allied Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower observed, “and was perfectly at home with all of us.”

Though unable to carry a weapon into battle, the king did participate in an impressive bit of subterfuge that preceded the
Allied invasion of Europe. It was imperative that Hitler be misled as to where the Allies would be landing; otherwise he would amass all his forces there and smash the invaders. A massive feint was devised to fool the Nazis. As part of it, King George made a great show of “inspecting” a completely fabricated fuel-delivery complex, designed to make it appear that the Allies were planning to land at Calais rather than Normandy.

The king was eager to be a part of the actual invasion of Normandy in 1944, as was Churchill, which resulted in a rare clash of wills between the two leaders. George was ultimately persuaded that it would be foolish to have the monarch and the prime minister on the same ship in the midst of a massive invasion. The king reluctantly agreed to stay home but expected Churchill to do the same.

Writing to the prime minister, he suggested that “the right thing to do is what normally falls to those at the top on such occasions, namely to remain at home and wait.… I don’t think I need emphasize what it would mean to me personally, and to the whole Allied cause if at this juncture a chance bomb, torpedo, or even a mine, should remove you from the scene.” Similarly, he added, “a change of Sovereign at this moment would be a serious matter for the Country and Empire.”

Churchill was not persuaded, even after being reminded by the king’s private secretary that no prime minister could go abroad without the sovereign’s consent. Although George was not prepared to stand on this right to refuse Churchill, and thus jeopardize their friendship, he was nevertheless vexed by the prime minister’s obstinacy. “I am very worried of the PM’s seemingly selfish way of looking at the matter,” the king recorded in his diary. “He doesn’t seem to care about the future, or how much depends on him.”

The king tried once again to dissuade Churchill, arguing that it was a matter of fairness, as well as duty. “I want to make one more appeal to you not to go to sea on D Day,” he wrote. “Please
consider my own position. I am a younger man than you are, I am a sailor, & as King I am the head of all three Services. There is nothing I would like to do better than to go to sea but I have agreed to stay at home; is it fair that you should then do exactly what I should have liked to do myself? You said yesterday afternoon that it would be a fine thing for the King to lead his troops into battle, as in the old days; if the King cannot do this, it does not seem to me right that his Prime Minister should take his place.”

Churchill eventually acquiesced to the king’s entreaty—grudgingly—and harmony was restored. A little less than a year later both men stood on the balcony of Buckingham Palace before a massive crowd to celebrate the defeat of Germany.

“We congratulated each other on the end of the European War,” the king wrote of his lunch with Churchill that day. “The day we have been longing for has arrived at last & we can look back with thankfulness to God that our tribulation is over. No more fear of being bombed at home & no more living in airraid shelters. But there is still Japan to be defeated & the restoration of our country to be dealt with, which will give us many headaches & hard work in the coming years.”

Churchill would not be by the king’s side after the war; he was turned out of office by an apparently ungrateful nation in 1945. George would have to oversee the postwar challenges, particularly the dissolution of the British Empire, without his prime minister’s stalwart presence. The king did stand impressively as the world dramatically shifted around him. But he was tired, and cancer was slowly destroying him.

On February 6, 1952, George VI died in his sleep of coronary thrombosis at age fifty-six. His wartime partner Churchill—who, after being reelected in 1951, would now serve as prime minister to the late king’s daughter, Elizabeth II—left a wreath of white flowers as the king lay in state at Westminster Hall. With it was a simple two-word tribute, written in his own hand: “For Valour.”

Elizabeth II inherited a throne made more secure by the efforts of her father, George VI, and her mother, Queen Elizabeth (who, upon her daughter’s accession in 1952, became known as the Queen Mother—or the Queen Mum, as she was affectionately called). Service has been the one constant of the queen’s nearly six-decade reign, for, as Michael Mann, former dean of Windsor, wrote, “The one lesson that the abdication of Edward VIII burnt deep into the [souls] of the present Queen … was that you never, never abdicate your duty.”

Is it good to be the queen? Well, maybe for a day. Sure, there are palaces and jewels and servants to attend your every need. But there are also tremendous, almost overwhelming responsibilities—the most important of which is to represent your country with dignity and honor. Imagine having to be on perpetual display, impeccably dressed and coiffed, without betraying so much as a burp. There are no spontaneous walks on the beach or nights at the movies. Almost every move is carefully choreographed, and the only opportunity to connect with other people is through stilted small talk at public events—endless
public events. Although she is head of state, the queen has very little power and is constitutionally forbidden from even offering a political opinion. Still, she is expected to embody all the mystique and glamour of the ancient monarchy while keeping the institution relevant in these modern times. No easy task.

Queen Elizabeth II has held the job for nearly six decades now, almost as long as her great-great-grandmother Queen Victoria, the longest-reigning monarch in British history. It is a position she did not seek but that was thrust upon her by the laws of heredity when her father, King George VI, died in 1952. She was just twenty-five. “I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong,” Elizabeth had promised four years earlier, solemnizing the vow at her coronation. Most agree she has served exceedingly well.

Each of the queen’s prime ministers, beginning with Winston Churchill, has marveled at her knowledge of the world, her astute political intuition, and her deeply ingrained sense of duty—a trait she inherited from both her parents. She is a monarch not afraid of hard work—from the stacks and stacks of state papers she reads every day to all the ceremonial investitures, court receptions, and state banquets she hosts. Then there is the travel. Elizabeth II has visited not only almost every corner of her own kingdom but nearly three-quarters of the world’s nations as well, some many times over—all for the benefit of Britain.

Elizabeth’s mother recognized how difficult her daughter’s life as queen would be and, in a statement to the people after the death of George VI, commended to them “our dear daughter; give her your loyalty and devotion; in the great and lonely station to which she has been called she will need your protection and love.”

There was scant evidence of that love and protection when Elizabeth II reached the nadir of her reign during the 1990s. The press gleefully reported every lurid detail of her children’s failing marriages, then ferociously turned on the queen herself after the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, in 1997. SHOW US YOU CARE, MA’AM, screamed one headline, reflecting the popular sentiment that Elizabeth was an unfeeling monster. Her sin was not behaving the way they decreed she should in the midst of mass hysteria.

The British have always been an extremely fickle people when it comes to their monarchs. Even the greatest kings and queens, such as Elizabeth I, experienced significant ebbs in their popularity, only to bounce back later in the public’s estimation. And so it was with Elizabeth II.

Five years after the death of Diana the nation came out in force to celebrate the queen’s Golden Jubilee. It was an abrupt change in public mood as the people responded positively to Elizabeth II’s half century on the throne. The queen had remained steady as ever through the sharp fluctuation in public sentiment, and in a speech before both Houses of Parliament that year, she thanked “people everywhere for the loyalty, support, and inspiration you have given me over these fifty, unforgettable years.” Then Elizabeth did something entirely characteristic and promised “to serve the people of this great nation of ours to the best of my ability through the changing times ahead.” And for that renewed commitment to her calling, the people had every cause to sing “God Save the Queen.”