Queen Elizabeth II’s early reign tangled with Churchill and Philip, Morton reveals

A new book by royal blockbuster author Andrew Morton portrays a turbulent early reign for Queen Elizabeth II, highlighting a fierce clash between her wartime ally Winston Churchill and her husband, Prince Philip. The revelations, drawn from Morton’s forthcoming Winston And The Windsors, depict a monarchy navigating constitutional duty, personal pride and the turbulence of a postwar world, with moments that test the new queen’s resolve and set the tone for years to come.

The narrative opens with the moment Elizabeth’s father, George VI, died and Churchill—already aging into his role as prime minister—prepared to welcome his wartime ally’s successor. Morton recounts a scene in which Churchill sat in the back of a limousine en route to meet the new Queen, tears streaming down his cheeks as he reflected on the late king. The PM had learned of the king’s passing and, privately, admitted to reservations about the 25-year-old sovereign who had just stepped onto a stage no one had fully prepared her to occupy. Publicly, he pledged fealty to the new queen; privately, he questioned whether she could bear the heavy burden of the crown. The account emphasizes Elizabeth’s own mix of nerves and resolve at her first audiences, noting that she soon observed a transformation in Churchill as he grew to trust her.

Morton’s passages describe a pair of personalities with astute political instincts and deep, if uneasy, mutual respect. Elizabeth later recalled that she “lost all my timidity somehow” as she learned to navigate the demands of kingship, while Churchill—initially wary—began to acknowledge her intuitive grasp of governance. The queen’s confidence, the book suggests, emerged not merely from temperament but from an early pattern of brisk, in-meeting decisions that impressed the prime minister. The two quickly found common ground in shared passions—racing and horses—that helped bridge a widening gap between the cabinet table and the royal drawing rooms. The dynamic is framed as a nuanced duet rather than a simple power struggle, with Morton emphasizing that Elizabeth’s weekly audiences with Churchill often stretched longer than scheduled and were marked by frank conversations about Britain’s place in the world.

Morton details a second strand of tension: the question of the royal surname and the family’s public identity. Prince Philip, who arrived in Britain with a modernizing impulse, argued that his children should carry the Mountbatten name, a line traced through his family. Churchill, however, was determined that the dynasty retain the Windsors—a stance rooted in a wartime decision to shield the monarchy from Germanic associations and to preserve public confidence in the royal house. The back-and-forth culminated in an official proclamation with the Privy Council that would keep the Windsor name intact. Philip’s private frustration—summed up by colleagues as “insufferable when idle”—met a formal rebuttal when Churchill pressed a tough, uncompromising line. Finally, on April 6, Elizabeth declared her “Will and Pleasure” that she and all her children would remain Windsors, a decision that deepened a rift with her husband but solidified the monarchy’s symbolic lineage.

The surname dispute was only one front in a broader debate over how the royal family should live and whether they would reflect a modernized, accessible crown. Philip wanted to settle his family at Clarence House and favored giving his children his Mountbatten name, while Elizabeth preferred continuity and public gravitas associated with Windsor. Churchill argued that constitutional duties must take precedence over personal preferences, urging, with a stiff practicality, that the flagpole at Buckingham Palace should fly the sovereign’s standard there. The PM’s involvement extended well beyond ceremonial questions: he enlisted the queen’s veteran private secretary, Tommy Lascelles, to steer the young queen toward a more centralized, official home base across the road from Clarence House. The move, which Elizabeth would carry out under Churchill’s orchestration, was depicted by Morton as a formative moment in the young monarch’s relationship with power and with a prime minister who could both bolster and bedevil her.

The book also recounts episodes that illustrate the friction between Philip and the political establishment. A 1953 debate in the House of Commons drew sharp, personal reactions from the prince, and some MPs were scandalized by what they saw as a royal overstep into political discourse. Enoch Powell, among others, filed complaints that underscored the uncharted territory in which the royal consort operated. Morton notes that Churchill—though often the principal challenger—recognized that Philip was not merely a problem to be solved but an active participant in shaping royal strategy, a role that required Churchill to adjust his own approach at times. The result was a complicated but essential collaboration, one that the queen balanced with measured, constitutional poise.

The most publicly scrutinized questions involved television and the coronation. Philip pressed for a televised coronation, arguing that the monarchy should reflect a modern era in an age of mass media. Churchill resisted the idea, warning that a broadcast could cheapen or vulgarize a solemn ceremony. Yet public opinion prevailed, and the coronation audience became a landmark moment in the British monarchy’s ongoing evolution. Morton’s account portrays the episode not as a victory for one side but as a turning point where public sentiment helped redefine the balance between tradition and modernization—and where Elizabeth’s leadership helped win over a wary prime minister.

Beyond policy and publicity, Morton emphasizes the enduring strain within the royal household, including the delicate rebalancing of the Queen Mother’s role after George VI’s death. The queen mother, once a central figure of ceremony, faced a difficult demotion in the court hierarchy as the young queen assumed her place. Churchill personally intervened to keep the Queen Mother engaged and relevant, visiting her at Birkhall in Scotland and insisting that retirement was not an option. The exchange, described by aides and contemporaries in Morton’s retelling, is presented as a pivotal moment in ensuring the stability and continuity of the monarchy through a period of transition and challenge.

As Elizabeth’s reign began to settle into its long arc, Morton portrays a working relationship that blended strategic counsel with personal loyalty. The queen and Churchill grew to trust one another; their conversations—whether about parliamentary affairs, royal travel, or the exigencies of state duties—are presented as exchanges that shaped not only policy but how the monarchy presented itself to a changing Britain. The author notes how the queen’s instinct for decision—“the second or third suggestion is the right decision” on certain issues—echoed a broader temperament that would define her governance style for decades to come. The portrait is not a reductive feud story but a layered chronicle of two powerful figures learning to co-manage a modern constitutional monarchy under the gaze of a new, increasingly media-driven world.

Morton’s Winston And The Windsors is adapted from the forthcoming book and set for publication by Michael O’Mara on October 9, with a price listed at £24.99. The author’s notes emphasize a careful, evidence-based retelling of events, with a focus on documented interactions and the timeline that shaped Elizabeth II’s early years. The publication promises viewers and readers a detailed account that intertwines palace life with political and public pressures, offering a portrait of a queen who swiftly matured into her role and a prime minister who, despite clashes, came to rely on her steady leadership.