Gifted of God, and assured her place in Heaven - these were among the more lavish tributes paid this week as the last queen empress continued the public celebration of her impending 100th birthday.

Republicans will retch in revolt as "the nation" pays homage to its "favourite grandmother". But the revisionists will have to wait. Queen Elizabeth, the queen mother, had apparently requested no great fuss or ceremony. Told of the plans for Wednesday's pageant, and the appearance on the Buckingham Palace balcony scheduled for the day itself, August 4th, she asked if people would be that interested.

But as a million rose petals descended on Horseguards Parade in London and 100 white doves flew to freedom, famous faces shed quiet tears and the thousands who had defied dissident republican terrorists sang God Save The Queen with gusto, the grand lady who had won and retained the hearts of London's Eastenders had her answer.

Newspapers had run competitions for coveted places at the Horseguards event, and demand clearly exceeded supply. Along the famous Mall, thousands more watched the procession of stars and citizens depicting styles and events from each decade of the queen mother's remarkable century: from the suffragettes to the members of the Colditz Association, from the Home Guard to the Butlin's Redcoats, jitterbuggers to Guides and Brownies, Barnardo's children to the stars of Dad's Army, Dame Vera Lynn and Sir Norman Wisdom to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and the Beatles, the first mini to the Millennium Dome.

And, courtesy of a BBC decision widely held a misjudgment, ITV beamed the images of this carnival celebration into the homes of millions of Britons across the country. There were lumps in throats as the veteran actor Sir John Mills thanked Her Majesty "for everything you have meant for the people of this nation and the Commonwealth". And tears, too, when the longest-living member of the House of Windsor replied, in a voice still clear and firm, heard amazingly by many for the very first time.

One theatre critic asked to cover the event confessed initially to thinking it "the assignment from hell". And not everyone was enamoured. Perhaps it was the sight of the Wombles dressed as Scots Guards. Or maybe it was the spectacle of the Lancaster bomber and two Spitfires flying overhead that had Bob, a builder from south London, shaking his head in dismay.

"We've got all this pageantry," he declared, "and we're good at it. But what are we as a country any more? We've lost our identity. We used to have an empire." Laughing, patriotic Bob admitted he'd like to claim it back. Her majesty has long since grown used to the loss of it.

When the Hon Elizabeth Angela Marguerite Bowes-Lyon was born, the Labour Party was but five months old, Mafeking had just been relieved, the British were winning the Boer War and the empire was expanding. The woman who would help secure the Windsor dynasty, and shape the reigns of two monarchs, would live through the Great War, Mussolini's Italy, Hitler's Germany and Ho Chi Minh's Vietnam.

She would witness the rise and fall of apartheid in South Africa, the restoration of monarchy after Franco's 30-year dictatorship, follow the fortunes of 17 American presidents, and quietly admire the long reign of Margaret Thatcher after a childhood in which no woman had voted for a member of, much less been elected to, the House of Commons.

Through all these long years - as Duchess of York, queen and queen mother - this remarkable centenarian has been seen much and heard incredibly little, performing her public duties while never straying into public controversy, keeping her own counsel and amassing that famed royal mystique shattered, with such devastating effect, by the War of the Waleses and the near-public revolt following the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.

And as the years have marched past, so the BBC, at regular intervals, and in conditions of great secrecy, has revised and practised its planned coverage of the queen mother's obsequies. Even as she celebrates her birthday, and shows every intention of surviving to see her daughter's Golden Jubilee in 2002, historians and constitutional experts are already anticipating the effect of her passing on a monarchy no longer in command of society's uncritical affection or natural deference.

Ironically, of course, when King George VI and his consort, Queen Elizabeth, acceded to the throne - reluctantly and unexpectedly following the abdication crisis in 1936 - the prospects for Britain's hereditary monarchy looked equally uncertain.

This early tale of the House of Windsor and strong-willed women divided opinion among that generation, and prompted criticism of the then queen which would find an echo, many years later, when she was seen to side with her favourite grandchild, Prince Charles, through the trauma of divorce from Diana following his admission of his affair with Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles.

"She's a tough old bag," ventured a friend this week, herself gamely approaching 80, "She always was." Admittedly no great fan of the royals now, her judgment was formed on the key role played by the new queen in denying Mrs Wallis Simpson the title Her Royal Highness following her marriage to the exiled King Edward VIII. Her daughter would similarly punish Diana many years later. But if the Princess of Wales assured young Prince William she didn't care, the original slight rankled with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor to their dying days.

Queen Elizabeth never forgave the twice-divorced American for forcing the crisis which put her husband on the throne - contributing, she believed, to his premature death in 1952. But if initially reluctant, the new king and queen were to prove ruthless in taking the action necessary to secure the new court.

Historian Andrew Roberts says the queen's role during the abdication crisis was to stiffen her husband's resolve: "She did this by praying with him, initially that the terrible responsibility of the crown should not fall upon him; then, when it was clear it had, by praying that God would help him carry it."

He also describes the fear that, for all their worthiness and duty, the royal family knew they could not compete with the glamour associated with George VI's elder brother: "All the hard work they had put into establishing the new reign on a sound footing might be jeopardised if the newly created Duke of Windsor came to live in Britain, perhaps establishing a rival minicourt in the process. In order to offset that dangerous eventuality, Mrs Simpson was denied the title Her Royal Highness."

Jonathan Caine, also a historian who works for the Conservative Party, says: "There is no doubt the deeply religious Duchess of York (as she then was) strongly disapproved of Mrs Simpson" and never forgave Edward VIII "for what she regarded as his selfishness in forsaking his duties and for thrusting the burden of the crown on her husband." But he adds: "No evidence exists, however, that she plotted the downfall of the king for the advancement of herself or her husband."

THE CONTROVERSY has raged for years, and the full facts will not be known for many more. But there is no doubt this episode led to a revised assessment of the charming and gentle lady whose velvet glove clearly carried an iron fist.

It was an iron fist, however, which the country would come to love and admire. And if the second World War was to seal the demise of empire, it was that chapter in the history of Britain which saw George VI - but most especially his queen - preside over the renewal of national affection for the institution of the monarchy.

As Sir Bernard Ingham, Mrs Thatcher's former press secretary, said last week, "It all goes back to the war, when she showed such indomitable courage and identification with the people in their trials during the Blitz." For that generation, alongside Winston Churchill and Vera Lynn, Queen Elizabeth became a symbol of British grit and determination to take on Hitler and defeat him. "I'm glad we've been bombed," she declared, after six bombs hit a part of Buckingham Palace in 1940. "It makes me feel I can look the East End in the face."

Anthony Holden recently rubbished this pearly queen mantra, quoting one disaffected courtier who said: "She wouldn't even know where the East End was." But such comment would carry little sway in the East End then or now. This was the plucky queen who practised with her revolver and vowed: "I shall not go down like the others", and who rejected suggestions she might send the young princesses to Canada to ensure their safety: "They will not leave me. I will not leave the king, and the king will never leave."

To home-grown republicans, as to cynical outsiders, this may all smack of sentimentality and the hankering after lost empire. But Britons are justifiably proud of the war. Indeed it is no exaggeration to say that Britain's role in times of war still plays a crucial part in the definition of this nation and its place in the world.

Nor, though, is it just a question of the war. These birthday tributes are fired by admiration for service, and sheer longevity. As Sir Bernard puts it: "Then there is her age, and her astonishing good health. She is a physical phenomenon, and people feel great affection for that. I've no idea what her opinions are, but it would be most surprising if they were not conservative with a small `c', like most people of her generation.

"She will leave behind not a single bon mot, but she will leave a memory of how to grow old gracefully, and even enthusiastically."