When photographer Cecil Beaton was first asked for his thoughts on Royal Family, the 1969 fly-on-the-wall documentary, he said: "The Queen came through as a great character - quite severe, very self-assured, a bit bossy, serious, frowning a bit ... But she came out on top as the nice person she is."
More than half a century on, following the documentary's unauthorised uploading to YouTube last month - where it was briefly available for public viewing for the first time since 1972 - the Queen emerges as that same nice person: a bit bossy, serious, frowning a bit, but a "great character" still. Consistency has been key to her conduct of monarchy.
Accession Day today marks the 69th anniversary of the death of her father, George VI, and her inheritance of the burdens of sovereignty, formalised the following year in her Coronation oaths. No previous reign in the thousand-year history of the British crown has, like this one, entered its 70th year. No previous reign has witnessed man-made change on such a scale. Nor has any previous reign trained so unrelenting a spotlight on the throne's incumbent.
Elizabeth was only six when a newspaper columnist expressed concern at "all the lionising she encounters. Every time she goes out for a drive in the park, everyone seems to recognise her, and hats are raised and handkerchiefs waved from all quarters".
Unabated, lionising has continued over nine decades. Remarkably, its impact on its subject appears negligible. Her vocation as sovereign is central to the Queen's identity, yet all those who know her well commend her personal humility, her modesty, her lack of vanity or pride. The Queen who, in Royal Family, feeds carrots to racehorses, diligently processes daily dispatch boxes of government papers and, as publicity material claimed at the time, balances "a sense of humour and fun [with] a strong sense of duty", is recognisably the same woman who will soon celebrate her 95th birthday.
With the benefit of the long view, we can see that consistency has been among the Queen's chief strengths. This consistency shapes more than her behaviour and appearance. She has been consistent in outlook, in her values, beliefs and priorities, in her personal standards that, with awful consequences, other members of her family have sometimes failed to meet.
From her parents and grandparents, the Queen at 25 inherited a model termed a "welfare monarchy". Many of her engagements through 69 years have recognised - and, through the honours system, rewarded - voluntary sector contributions to the welfare of local and national communities. She embraced her own public service in her famous 21st birthday broadcast, made in Cape Town in 1947, when she promised "my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service", words that moved her greatly as she practised them.
In scarcely changing language, she has encouraged and commended the same doctrine of service and community-spiritedness in others. In her Commonwealth Day address in 1969, the Queen pointed to "a ready-made opportunity" for all those across the Commonwealth "to give expression to that concern for others, that desire to serve and to help, which I regard as one of the great characteristics of the young people of all our countries".
She identified as the message of Christmas, in her seasonal broadcast a year later, as "learning to be concerned about one another; to treat your neighbour as you would like him to treat you; and to care for the future of all life on Earth".
Fast forward more than 30 years, and the initiatives the Queen chose to mark her Golden Jubilee in 2002 included the Queen's Award for Voluntary Services, known as the MBE for volunteer groups: its purpose is to recognise outstanding work by volunteers for the benefit of their local community.
In 2015, she described the christening of her great-grandson Prince George of Cambridge as baptism "into a joyful faith of Christian duty and service". The title of a commemorative 90th birthday book about her personal faith to which, unusually, the Queen contributed a foreword, was The Servant Queen. The label "servant" was one few of her predecessors would either have welcomed or successfully embodied.
The Queen's imperviousness to faddishness is now accepted as a given. Time and again, she has commended the "enduring value" of what are invariably called old-fashioned virtues. Television commentary at the time of her silver wedding anniversary in November 1972 informed viewers that "in an age of rapid change, in which many ancient institutions [...] have been questioned, the Royal family has set an example of stability and respect for the basic simple values".
Then, as now, it was the Queen who, most of all, represented this stability. The rapid change of the early Seventies pales compared with subsequent developments. Accelerating and continuous change has challenged many of this country's ancient institutions, including Parliament and the Church of England, and found them wanting. Not so the monarch.
Granted, there have been instances when the Queen's judgment has faltered: her agreement to Prince Edward's 1987 TV fiasco It's a Royal Knockout and her failure to grasp the national mindset following the death of Diana, Princess of Wales. These are small wrinkles in an exemplary record.It was not always the case that the Queen's unchangingness won plaudits. In the late Sixties, The Sunday Telegraph offered readers dolorous prognostications: "The British monarchy [...] could well be swallowed up in a great and growing yawn."
Newspapers reported that, at a moment of iconoclasm in British life, the young regarded the Queen as the "arch square", out of touch and boring. This was the background to the Queen's agreement to participate in the film that became Royal Family. Happily, the joint BBC/ITV production was an overwhelming success with its first viewers. A Gallup poll conducted in its aftermath found support for the monarchy at a reassuring 69 per cent, with less than a fifth in favour of a republic.
In the autumn of 1969, The Telegraph reflected a shift in public opinion that has remained largely unaltered: "There is really no need for continuous change in all things ... what ordinary people desperately need in this age of swirling dissolution and transformation is something constant and durable to hang on to. Is it not part of the monarch's high function to supply this?"
In the 52 years since, the Queen has indeed supplied something constant and durable. In the process, she has become rocklike in her dependability. Today, bar pandemics, the Queen's life mostly pursues a course she inherited in 1952: the annual progress from wintry Sandringham to Windsor for Easter and late-summer family holidays at Balmoral. A clutch of engagements is immovable: the Holy Week distribution of the Royal Maundy, the Birthday Parade on her official birthday in June, the Garter Service, State Opening of Parliament and the Act of Remembrance at the Cenotaph in November.
The December reception held for members of the diplomatic corps, accredited to the Court of St James's, remains the grandest party in the royal calendar; there are garden parties at Buckingham Palace and the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh. In the racing calendar, the Derby and Ascot week are non-negotiable. A broadcast to the Commonwealth is pre-recorded for screening at three o'clock on Christmas Day.
"If you live this sort of life," the Queen explained in a 40th anniversary documentary, Elizabeth R, in 1992, "you live very much by tradition and continuity". I suspect the latter matters more to this practical and unegotistical woman.
Her embodiment of continuity is one of many reasons people at home and abroad cherish deep and abiding affection for our remarkable, reliable and unflagging sovereign, and why she retains our heartfelt prayers on the eve of her 70th year as queen.