38656356325923

Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, dropping a curtsey as an official intoned their name,
to the background of a military band playing dance music. There was no personal
contact whatsoever as there was with investitures, when the Queen would happily stand
for hours bestowing medals, knighthoods and a brief chat on worthy recipients who at
least had earned their right to be there. In 1958 it was announced that the Queen would
hold no more presentation parties but would increase the number of garden-parties at
Buckingham Palace and Holyrood House in Edinburgh to widen the circle of people who
could be presented to their sovereign. That year, as if in response to Altrincham’s
suggestion that some household officers should have Commonwealth backgrounds, an
assistant press secretary was appointed from Canada, the intention being that someone
from one of the Commonwealth countries should hold the appointment for at least two
years. This did not, however, fulfil his concept of an ethnic mixture at the Palace; the
appointees were always to be from the ‘Old [i.e. white] Commonwealth’. Philip had
been responsible for one innovation intended to increase access by the outside world to
the Palace – informal lunches for half-a-dozen people to enable Elizabeth to meet a
cross-section of her subjects. Early guests included the editor of The Times, the Bishop of
London, the managing director of Wembley Stadium, the headmaster of Eton and the
Chairman of the National Coal Board, a selection that could hardly be called
adventurous. Later in the reign the net would be spread wider to include actors, writers
and sports personalities.
Some observers thought they noticed an immediate change in the most highlighted
aspect of Altrincham’s criticisms. The Queen’s Christmas speech, Harold Nicolson noted,
came over ‘with a vigour unknown in pre-Altrincham days’. Great effort had, indeed,
been put into this, Elizabeth’s first televised Christmas broadcast. Boy Browning’s wife,
Daphne du Maurier, had prepared draft suggestions, but it does not seem that they were
used. Just as the prospect of having to deliver live the post-luncheon radio talk had
always ruined her father’s Christmas lunch, so did this first live ‘performance spoil
Elizabeth’s day. ‘I hope your Christmas went off well – ours was upset by the television
which was nerve-racking,’ she told a courtier. Elizabeth is not a natural television
performer. She has to an unusual degree the ability to appear (and is) utterly
unselfconscious when in the focus of still or television cameras in her active life, but as
soon as she is required to do a face-to-face broadcast to camera it is quite a different
thing, as Michael Adeane was to explain to Macmillan’s press officer in 1963: ‘The
Queen is gay and relaxed beforehand but in front of the cameras she freezes and there is
nothing to be done about it.’ Two years earlier, Adeane had confessed to Harold
Nicolson that ‘he would give his soul to find some reason for stopping the Christmas
broadcast. He says it must always be the same and will become monotonous…’ 6
For Elizabeth, the constraints were compensated for by the fulfilment which she found
in her job. Within the parameters of that job life was reasonably straightforward for a
woman with her temperament and training. Never rebellious, she had accepted her lot
without question. As she had gained in confidence and understanding, she had begun to
enjoy the political side of her work. Rab Butler told Robert Lacey how much she enjoyed