She was not born to be Queen. The princess was, after all, only third in line to the throne, after uncle David and her father. David was bound to marry and have children of his own. She would be pushed down the line.
Even so, when Princess Elizabeth was born at home in London’s Mayfair by Caesarean section at 2.40am on April 21, 1926, the British home secretary, Sir William Joynson-Hicks, had to be present. He was witnessing her legitimacy.
Her parents, the Duke and Duchess of York – Bertie, George V’s second son, and the former Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon – were immediately besotted.
“You don’t know what tremendous joy it is to Elizabeth and me to have our little girl,” wrote the duke to his mother, Queen Mary. “We always wanted a child to make our happiness complete, and now that it has happened, it seems so wonderful and strange.”
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Bertie was determined that Elizabeth’s upbringing would be nothing like his own. George V had bullied his stammering son, who later said, “I was frightened of my father, and I am damned well going to see to it that my children are frightened of me.” As a result, Elizabeth did not have a tough childhood.
She was baptised by the Archbishop of York at Buckingham Palace and named Elizabeth Alexandra Mary after her mother, great-grandmother and grandmother – all consorts, not queens regnant. She was expected to make a good, aristocratic marriage and not a lot else.
Her first nanny was hired by Queen Mary. Clara “Allah” Knight was directed to teach the toddler not to fidget, and to smile and wave. Allah also drummed in the usefulness of schedules for everything – an approach that would be helpful to her charge in the coming decades.
In 1930, her sister, Princess Margaret, was born. The same year, Elizabeth (nicknamed “Lilibet”) formed her first friendship. She approached a girl she had never met before, Sonia Graham-Hodgson.
The sisters in 1932.
“I can still remember our first meeting in the gardens behind their house – 145 Piccadilly. I was playing there one day when this little girl came up to me and said, ‘Will you come and have a game with me?’ We played French cricket,” Sonia recalled, decades later.
“When she left at tea time, she said, ‘Goodbye. See you tomorrow.’ I went on seeing her virtually every day, except for holidays, until she moved to Buckingham Palace. The Queen was a happy child but quite introverted. It was always Princess Margaret who was the extrovert, even in those days.”
Bertie and the duchess were determined that their girls would be utterly secure. Every day began the same with the girls joining their parents in their bedroom. There were frequent family gatherings, with silly games and laughter. Bertie called his family “We four” and was determined that what he called the “Family Firm” would be joyful. The Firm is how the royals still refer to themselves.
Margaret (seated), Elizabeth, their parents and pets in Wales.
Their mother taught the girls how to read, how to keep a diary (the Queen wrote in hers every day throughout her life) and instilled, at least in Lilibet’s case, a strong Christian faith. She learnt all the Psalms.
In 1933, Marion “Crawfie” Crawford joined the family as the girls’ governess and tutor for home schooling. She had been recommended as a “country girl who was a good teacher, except when it came to mathematics”. Not that there was much teaching. The duke and duchess asked that their daughters had a “really happy childhood, with lots of pleasant memories.”
In practice, that meant 90 minutes of lessons a day, with the rest of the time dominated by dancing, singing and games.
A French teacher was also hired. Marie-Antoinette de Bellaigue, a Belgian vicomtesse, taught them both to talk and read French fluently. Lilibet did not appreciate being forced to write out endless French verbs and took revenge.
In her memoirs, Crawfie wrote, “Lilibet, goaded by her boredom to violent measures, had picked up a big ornamental silver inkpot and, without saying anything, tipped it over her own head. There she sat, with ink trickling down her face and dyeing her golden curls blue.”
At her desk in Windsor Castle in 1944. Elizabeth wrote in her diary every day.
In January 1936, things started to change. George V died and Uncle David ascended the throne as Edward VIII. He was besotted with American divorcée Wallis Simpson. Bertie knew it was serious long before the situation became public.
On December 10, Elizabeth, by now aged 10, heard crowds chanting, “God save the King!” David had abdicated to be with “the woman I love” and her father was now king in his place.
She hurried to Margaret to tell her the news. “Does that mean you will have to be the next queen?” asked Margaret. “Yes, some day,” replied Elizabeth. “Poor you,” said Margaret. Elizabeth wrote in her diary “Abdication Day”.
Elizabeth went to her father’s coronation with Queen Mary. The future Queen wrote that Westminster Abbey had “a sort of haze of wonder as Papa was crowned, at least I thought so”.
“Papa” is crowned. King George VI’s coronation in 1937.
Now living at Buckingham Palace, her education was stepped up, with constitutional history and law top of the agenda. The new King George VI taught her what he knew. Henry Marten, the Vice-Provost of Eton, brought academic rigour and the Archbishop of Canterbury continued her religious education.
On top of that, she was given lessons in art and music, became a swimmer and learned to ride properly – she’d need that for Trooping the Colour. At 11, she was enrolled in the Girl Guides and later became a Sea Ranger. She loved it all.
My little pony! Elizabeth in Windsor Great Park in the ’30s.
In 1940, with WWII raging and London facing the Blitz, the princesses were sent to Windsor Castle. Many nights they stayed in the cellars for fear of bombs.
The same year, Elizabeth made her first speech, on BBC radio’s children’s service, to Britain and the Commonwealth. On her 16th birthday, she inspected the Grenadier Guards, of which she had been made colonel-in-chief. It was her first public engagement.
Accompanied by Margaret, Elizabeth makes her first broadcast in London on October 12, 1940.
Then her royal duties accelerated. She became president of many children’s organisations. From March 1944, she joined her parents on morale-boosting tours of Britain and just after her 18th birthday, stood in for the King when he was abroad.
Adorable Lilibet, aged two.
She wasn’t just a theoretical heir apparent – she was carrying out the heir’s duties.
