The true depth of Churchill and Elizabeth II’s friendship

When I first began to write about the relationship between Winston Churchill and Queen Elizabeth II, it was predominantly their official and public interactions that interested me. I wanted to tell the story of how the veteran prime minister and his government reacted to the sudden change of monarch, and how the new queen adapted to having the mantle of sovereignty thrust upon her.

But the personal dimension increasingly drew me in. Here were two of the most recognisable British figures of recent history, whose lives intersected at a very particular moment in time. She was a young woman ascending to the throne in tragic personal circumstances, embarking upon what would become the longest reign in British history. He was an elderly statesman in the evening of his career, wrestling with a grave economic situation and growing fears of a new world war while battling the challenges of increasing age and infirmity.

I was surprised and delighted to discover the extent to which their affection and regard for each other grew. I was fortunate enough to have access to both the Royal Archives and the Churchill papers and to uncover some wonderful informal images from the Churchill family’s photo albums, published exclusively here for the first time. These help illustrate how their relationship developed from respectful politeness into a genuine and rather touching friendship growing between them, built in part on shared interests and what seems to be a healthy sense of humour on both sides. Asked many years later with which of her prime ministers she had most enjoyed her audiences, Elizabeth replied, “Winston, of course, because it was always such fun.”

Churchill had an inherent and instinctive admiration for the monarchy, and was always highly susceptible to the ancient mystique that surrounded the person of the sovereign. Indeed, in private (and sometimes in public) Churchill sometimes appeared more like a besotted fan than a statesman. One of his private secretaries, Anthony Montague Browne, once saw him “gazing with great tenderness” at a photograph of Elizabeth that she had given him with “a warm inscription”. It showed her returning from the opening of Parliament, laughing and happy. “Isn’t she a winner?” he said. Churchill’s personal physician, Lord Moran, recalled several similar incidents. On one occasion, a few months before the coronation, Churchill looked at another photograph of the Queen that he described as “lovely, inspiring”, before adding: “All the film people in the world, if they had scoured the globe, could not have found anyone so suited to the part.” He was dazzled by her, and was clearly somewhat in love with her (as many close to him have stated), but he was always proper and respectful, with an attitude akin to that of a proud uncle.

That avuncular dynamic is perhaps also the key to appreciating Elizabeth’s affection for him. He had known and served sovereigns right back to her great-grandfather; she had grown up knowing him as a trusted friend of the family, and particularly of her father during the perils of the Second World War. She was, therefore, well disposed to him from the beginning. Any friend of her father’s had a head start in winning her as a friend, too.

For her 18th birthday on April 21 1944, the prime minister sent her the gift that surely every teenage girl must have been dying to receive: a signed copy of his four-volume biography of the 1st Duke of Marlborough. Despite this, Elizabeth wrote him an impeccably polite letter a few days later:

Dear Mr Churchill,

I was so deeply touched by your kindness in sending me such a delightful birthday present. There is nothing I would rather have than your “Life of Marlborough”, and I thank you most warmly for giving it to me. I spent a very busy but very pleasant birthday amongst relatives and a great many Grenadiers, which made it a very happy day for me. Once again thanking you so much.

Yours very sincerely, Elizabeth (Princess)

Churchill and the young Elizabeth met regularly at state occasions, but began to socialise with each other at more private occasions too. Their mutual interest in horse racing was a significant part of the personal bond that grew between them. It is notable that so many of their informal meetings and private jokes revolved around the racetrack, the territory where she was most relaxed and at home. It gave them an opportunity to develop a connection as real people outside their onerous official roles and public profiles.

Churchill purchased his first racehorse, Colonist II, in 1949 at a cost of £1,600 (around £50,000 in 2026 prices), and over the next few years his activities as an owner increased, with the purchase of more horses and with more success on the racecourse.

By the time the prime minister headed to Lingfield Racecourse in May 1953, the month before the coronation, he was undeniably a successful figure in the racing world. He watched as his horse, Prince Arthur, led for most of the race, with the Queen’s horse Aureole back in third or fourth place. But as they turned on to the straight, Prince Arthur fell back and was beaten by the following pack. Meanwhile Aureole quickened his pace to win by five lengths.

Magnanimous in defeat, Churchill sent a telegram to his rival owner: “Madam, my sincere congratulations with my humble duty, though this was not a matter on which I felt called upon to tender advice.” Churchill’s daughter Mary records her father was subsequently “delighted with the answer” that arrived from Balmoral Castle the next day: “Most grateful for your kind message of congratulations”, Elizabeth telegrammed: “Sorry you were not in closer attendance = Elizabeth R.”

Yet just a few weeks later, Churchill would fall seriously ill. Shortly after giving a dinner in honour of his Italian counterpart, Alcide De Gasperi, who was in London for a two-day visit, he suffered a stroke on June 23 1953.

In the years since, it has been suggested in some quarters (and in some widely viewed television dramas) that Elizabeth was kept in ignorance of Churchill’s condition for some time, and only later discovered how serious his illness had been. The evidence does not support this at all. As soon as the gravity of the situation was apparent, Churchill’s private secretary, Jock Colville, telephoned the Queen’s private secretary, Sir Alan Lascelles, on a scrambler line to tell him exactly what had happened. The two of them discussed at length the potential implications and how the Queen might be advised if she needed to decide on a new prime minister at short notice.

We know that Lascelles then informed the Queen of Churchill’s illness that same day. He also passed on a suggestion from Colville that Elizabeth should write to her stricken prime minister in her own hand, a request she willingly granted. The note read as follows:

My dear Prime Minister,

I am so sorry to hear from Tommy Lascelles that you have not been feeling too well these last few days. I do hope it is not serious and that you will be quite recovered in a very short time.

Our visit here is going very well and Edinburgh is thrilled by all the pageantry. We have been lucky in having fine weather, but I fear it is now raining after a thunderstorm.

With all good wishes, Yours very sincerely,

Elizabeth R.

On the face of it, her letter is somewhat casual, and gives the impression that she was not fully aware of his condition. But this can only have been a pretence – she would doubtless have been advised by Colville and Lascelles to keep her reference to his illness deliberately vague as a courtesy, and to adopt a light tone designed to lift his spirits.

The Queen’s letter had indeed thrilled him, and later he proudly showed it to his doctor, Lord Moran, along with a copy of his own response. Moran described Churchill’s reply as “a remarkable document with its poise, proportion and sense of detachment” as it set out the circumstances of his illness and “spoke of his plight as he lay in bed as if it had happened to someone else”. Despite his frank assessment of his predicament, he told the Queen that he was not without hope that he might be able to remain in post until the autumn. At the time, even those friends would have conceded this was wishful thinking.

On August 14, Elizabeth asked Churchill and his wife to join her to watch the St Leger race, in which her horse Aureole was a leading contender, and to travel with her afterwards on the royal train to stay for a few days at Balmoral. As soon as the very personal invitation arrived, Churchill replied immediately to accept, saying it was a “delightful prospect”. He told her his doctors thought he was progressing steadily and echoed her racing joke from earlier that year, saying he hoped to be in “close attendance” on her, despite not having any horses running in the St Leger himself.

But he was not yet out of the woods. His doctors and Clementine remained worried that he was not strong enough to return to the full demands of the premiership. Clemmie tried to persuade him to abandon the trip. She said that at the races he would be watched by “anxious and curious crowds”, who would notice if he had difficulty walking or could not stand in the Queen’s presence. As for Balmoral, she feared he was not yet up to a night on the train.

Her advice was given with love and concern, but her husband was not to be moved. He was determined not to let down the Queen, or the viewing public.

When the royal party arrived at the races, first the Queen and then Churchill were cheered as they got out of their cars. After they had taken the lift up to the Royal Box, the Queen emerged on to the balcony to fresh cheering, while Churchill stayed back inside. Turning to him, Elizabeth said, “They want you,” and as he joined her, he later recounted proudly: “I got as much cheering as she did.”

They then joined the Queen on the royal train for the overnight journey to Balmoral. On arrival at Ballater the next morning, Elizabeth invited Churchill to share her car for the last part of the journey to the castle. As they walked out of the station, she stood back and gestured to him to get in first. After joining him, they drove off together, with Lady Churchill following in a second car with the Queen’s lady-in-waiting. A small crowd at the station had turned out to cheer them.

Just a few hours later there was another crowd gathered on the drive leading to Crathie Kirk, where the Queen and wider Royal family were due to attend for Sunday worship. In bright sunshine, they cheered when his car drove up to the church. An enthusiastic account in the local newspaper recorded shouts of “It’s Winnie. He’s looking grand”, and reported: “The Premier, looking well and smiling broadly, was obviously delighted to be on Deeside.”

Upon returning to London two nights later, Churchill wrote straight away to the Queen: “Madam, I must express to Yr Majesty the keen pleasure which my wife and I derived from our Northern journey, and still more for the kind and gracious thought that led to its being planned. Balmoral was indeed a happy scene of youth and joy.”

The crisis following his stroke had passed, and he was now very much better. The Queen had certainly been impressed by his powers of recovery, saying after they met at the St Leger that the improvement he had made since she last saw him “was astonishing”. It is tempting to ascribe at least some of his progress to her influence. Elizabeth’s first “get well soon” letter reached him when he was thought to be close to death, yet he rallied enough to compose an impressive reply that surprised his doctors. His determination to make the trip to see her had spurred him to yet further effort, against the wishes of his wife and his doctor. Correlation is not causation, and he did have other motivations, but I think there is perhaps some truth to this reading of events.

Churchill’s 80th birthday, November 30 1954, was marked almost as an official day of national rejoicing. That morning crowds had cheered him in Downing Street, where letters and telegrams of congratulations had flooded in from around the world – more than 30,000 of them in all. Later that day he went to Buckingham Palace for his weekly audience with the Queen, which on this occasion took the form of a rather exclusive birthday party. Elizabeth had invited her mother, her sister and other relations to join her in presenting Churchill with a gift from the whole Royal family of four silver wine coasters engraved with their various royal ciphers.

When he wrote to thank her and her family for these, Churchill told Elizabeth they were “the source of intense pleasure and pride” to him, and were already in daily use. But he perhaps held in even higher estimation the more personal gift from the Queen as one racehorse owner to another – a “subscription” to her horse Aureole, allowing the opportunity for Churchill to breed the prize-winning stallion with one of his own mares. The offspring of the Windsor-Churchill equine birthday romp, which he named Vienna, would in due course go on to have a successful racing career.

Reflecting on the public tributes that had come his way, Churchill told Elizabeth that he was still “overcome by the kindness” that he had received from across the country, but hinted that he saw signs “that this mood might change in certain quarters” – seemingly a reference to his colleagues’ impatience with him. Regardless of this, he said: “I have confidence that I shall enjoy Your Majesty’s favour as long as I live. At least that is my cherished hope.”

After an extraordinary career, Churchill’s public service came to an end when he resigned four months later, on April 5 1955. But his personal connection with Elizabeth, unlikely as it might at times have appeared, remained a cherished legacy of their time together. Over the years remaining to him, they did not see each other as frequently as before, but continued to meet occasionally. He gladly accepted invitations to join her for tea in the royal tent at Buckingham Palace garden parties, and attended the Garter service and luncheon with her in 1956. They also regularly exchanged birthday greetings, telegrams and good wishes.

As he grew older, Elizabeth began to show increasing concern for his health. In November 1957, they dined together at Buckingham Palace and he mentioned that he intended to be present at the annual Remembrance Sunday Service at the Cenotaph. She was concerned that standing in the cold would not be good for him, and later sent him a message excusing him from attendance. She told him she hoped he would “not take the smallest risk to your health by prolonged exposure to November weather”. Touched by her kindness, he went anyway.

Her concerns were not misplaced. In February 1958 he caught pneumonia while on holiday in the south of France, and his illness made front-page newspaper headlines back home. Elizabeth asked to be kept fully informed of his recovery, and he sent her a telegram thanking her for her good wishes. Such exchanges would become sadly more common than their meetings in the years that followed.

When he fell and broke his hip in June 1962, at the age of 87, she immediately telegraphed to him: “I am so distressed to learn of your accident. My husband and I send you our best wishes for your speedy recovery.” He replied: “I am indeed grateful to Your Majesty for your kind message. I am making progress and return to England today. Your Majesty’s faithful subject and servant, Winston S Churchill.”

Their correspondence lasted until the last year of his life, and there is something rather touching about their final brief exchanges of birthday messages. On April 22 1964 a telegram from Elizabeth in reply to one from him simply read: “I send you and Lady Churchill my warmest thanks for your good wishes on my birthday = Elizabeth R.” The short message, sent from Windsor Castle, is reminiscent of the polite thank-you notes she sent him from there as a young girl more than 20 years previously.

On Churchill’s 90th birthday, in November 1964, she sent him a bouquet of flowers with a personal message of congratulations, as telegrams and good wishes flooded in to him from across the world. But by this point he was too frail to write anything in reply. He had only weeks left to live. Perhaps their last really meaningful exchange of letters had occurred more than two years previously. On February 5 1962, the eve of her 10th anniversary as queen, Churchill had sent Elizabeth a letter recalling their shared history and telling her: “It is with pride that I recall that I was your Prime Minister at the inception of these ten years of devoted service.”

Her letter in reply, written in her own hand to “My dear Sir Winston”, ended with these words:

I shall always count myself fortunate that you were my first Prime Minister at the beginning of my reign, and that I was able to receive the wise counsel and also friendship which I know my father valued so very much as well.

That one sentence contained a profound insight into the unique closeness of their relationship. One of Churchill’s successors, James Callaghan, would later say that the Queen’s prime ministers could expect “friendliness but not friendship” from her. That might have been true of the rest of them, but Churchill was unique. Of all the tributes Elizabeth had paid him over the years, perhaps the most touching and significant was that one word: friendship.

Churchill’s Queen: The Remarkable Friendship That Shaped Our Age by Dr Nigel Fletcher (£25, Ebury Press) is published on July 16

[Source: Nigel Fletcher - Daily Telegraph]