Pop History Moment: The Accession of Elizabeth II

Over time the story has taken on all the elements of a fairytale; a beautiful young Princess leaves her cold, damp Kingdom behind in the depths of winter to fulfill the duties her ailing father cannot. In warm, sunny Kenya, in a treetop (indeed, at a resort hotel called Treetops) she learns of her father's early death. Because he died in his sleep, the exact moment of his death is unknown; because she was out of the country and not by his side when it happened, she can never know exactly the moment she became Queen.

Yet she has set off for Australia fully expecting to never see him again; his haggard appearance of late had given a far more deferential chattering class than we are used to today reason to whisper amongst themselves that the King was unwell. A heavy smoker, George VI had already foregone the use of his left lung due to surgical pneumonectomy; despite removal of the malignant tumour the cancer has worked its way through him. Not that the public (or, in fact, the King himself) knew any of this; all they knew is what they saw, and what they saw at the airport on the last day of January as he gamely waved her off had worried them as much as the unusually chilly weather, coal shortages, and continued post-war rationing.

The new Queen flew directly back to London, her staff having sensibly packed mourning dress in anticipation, and she approached the sad duties ahead of her as she would so many others to come: stoically, and with a dignity rare in one of her years.
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In Memoriam: George VI

His Royal Highness The Prince Albert, Duke of York was never supposed to become King of England; it was only thanks to his feckless older brother Edward VIII (and the scandalous private life of his younger brother Prince George, Duke of Kent - not to mention the scandalous dullness of his other younger brother Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester) that he was thrust into the job in the first place. It was thanks to his own sense of duty, though, (as aided by the determination of his Queen as he was by the four packs of cigarettes he smoked each day) that he was even able to do his level best in helping the British Empire to take down Hitler.

Since the Prince born on this day in 1895 at York Cottage on the Sandringham Estate shared his birthday with the 34th anniversary of his great-grandfather's death - a day which was still being marked at his great-grandmother's court with heavy mourning - he was given the name Albert, although the family always referred to him as Bertie. A shy child, prone to tears, he was treated badly because of his left-handedness, and had knock knees which needed correction with splints; for some reason he developed a stammer early in life. None of it endeared him to his bellicose and demanding father, although his equally formidable mother was sympathetic in her own utterly undemonstrative way.

In the tried-and-true method of toughening up Princes, Bertie spent his formative years in the military; he even saw action during World War I aboard HMS Collingwood in the Battle of Jutland... After which he was forced to forego any further toughening up due to a duodenal ulcer - still, he gave it a better try than his own grandson Prince Edward, Earl of Wessex, who quit the Royal Marines after four months.

In April 1923 the hapless Prince turned his luck around when he finally persuaded Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon to marry him, at Westminster Abbey, following a two-year pursuit; as we have seen, the men of the House of Windsor are either made or broken by their choice of wives, and the newly created Duke of York was now made in the shade (thanks to an eerie radiance cast by his new Duchess). In April 1926 came the first of his little Princesses, Elizabeth, followed in 1930 by Margaret Rose; as a husband and father Bertie set a new standard as far as the doting royal male was concerned.

The Abdication Crisis thrust Bertie from the back of the Buckingham Palace balcony to the front in December 1936; no longer the Duke of York he was now George VI, and it was through England's darkest hours that his light would come to shine its brightest. He battled his stammer back in order to address his people prior to his coronation in May 1937 (winning that war before the outbreak of another, even greater one), remained in London throughout The Blitz, and let Churchill do his thing (winning the war tactically) while he did the King's job of boosting morale. England expected every man to do his duty, and her King certainly kept up his end of the bargain.

It all took its toll, though, and George VI died, too young, in February 1952.  He was just 56.

Currently the life of George VI - particularly the struggle he faced with his stammer - is getting the big screen treatment, in The King's Speech; as directed by Tom Hooper from a script by David Seidler, it features genuine heart-throb Colin Firth as the undaunted monarch, Helena Bonham Carter as his formidable queen, and Geoffrey Rush as Australian-born speech therapist Lionel Logue amongst an all-star cast.
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Pop History Moment: The Coronation of George VI

On this day in 1937 George VI was crowned King of England alongside his queen; the day had originally been chosen for the coronation of his older brother, Edward VIII, and wasn't changed following his abdication in December 1936, leaving them little time to learn the complex ritual. Still, it went off without a hitch; the service was conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury Cosmo Lang, whose opinion (clerical and otherwise) of Mrs. Simpson was seen as a major reason for the last-minute change of sovereign.

Millions lined the route in a persistent drizzle to cheer as the Gold State Coach passed by - specially illuminated within to give everyone on the sidelines a good view of the passengers. In the midst of a worldwide Depression, and with war clouds forming on the horizon, the coronation gave everyone a much-needed spot of celebration, and the crowds responded with ardour.
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Pop History Moment: The Festival of Britain Opened

On this day in 1951 George VI opened the Festival of Britain on London's South Bank; not only was it a celebration of the centenary of the first world's fair - the Great Exhibition of 1851 - it was intended to aid in Britain's postwar rebuilding.

Ironically most of the buildings on the Festival of Britain site - save for the Royal Festival Hall itself - were later demolished by that noted architecture critic, Prime Minister Winston Churchill, who felt they were too 'socialist' (whatever that means). All construction at the site had been overseen by Hugh Casson, although the hall itself was built by the firm of Holland, Hannen & Cubitts; despite the destruction of his masterwork, Casson was later knighted for his efforts.

On a less festive note, the crowds that gathered to greet the King, Queen, Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose, and other assembled senior members of the Royal Family, were shocked by His Majesty's gaunt appearance that day; his speech, never confident, was now halting and airless. If he looked not long for this world that day, it's because he wasn't; in September* he would secretly have his left lung removed, and by the following February he was gone.

*One week to the day before the Festival closed, as it turns out.
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