She has, of course, minimal opportunity to enjoy her surroundings or the facilities. Whatever the furnishings in a hotel suite, she will spend very little time there. Every morning she will be out early and will return late. She will have official engagements all day, because on a three- or five-day visit there is so much to be done. She will have speeches to make that may require last-minute revision, and she will have to change clothes several times.
She is extremely adept at this. She can put on a hat without needing a mirror, and can finish dressing while running downstairs. Her clothing is designed with a minimum of awkward catches and buttons so that she can replace one outfit with another swiftly and with the least time and effort. She has with her on every overseas visit two dressers and a hairdresser. Her make-up is applied only sparingly, due to a naturally pure skin, but her lipstick must not be smudged – no matter the circumstances. Her hair must likewise stay in place regardless of how many hats she has taken off and put on, and no matter what the temperature. Because she has only minutes, or even seconds, in which to change clothes or otherwise prepare between events, there is no margin for error. Delays and mistakes are a luxury that cannot be afforded. Time spent looking for the gloves she needs would delay her appearance and the knock-on effect of this could spoil the whole day. Such a mishap could also annoy her, and that too might adversely affect the occasion. Everything must be perfect, not because the Queen is a highly demanding employer but because her own timetable is so utterly unforgiving. If the hat or the umbrella she needs is not being held out ready for her by someone, her appearance may be spoiled and those who have attended it will feel disappointed.
While the Queen’s staff plan for every contingency, there are sometimes mishaps. Notorious in the annals of royal travel was her state visit to Morocco in 1989, when the king kept her waiting for over three hours in the heat on her arrival.
Two of her visits during the 1990s were of special significance. In Russia she stayed in the Kremlin, a fortress in the centre of Moscow whose very name evokes chilling memories of the Cold War. Before the Revolution it was a place of pilgrimage and Her Majesty participated in a service, with the Orthodox Metropolitan of Moscow, in one of its several cathedrals. She had several reasons for finding this a moving experience. The Romanovs, the murdered family of the Tsar, were relations of hers, and she had heard stories of them from her grandmother and from Lord Mountbatten. She had also lived through the decades of East–West confrontation as a Head of State. Knowing better than most the dangers to peace during that time, she could marvel at the fact that war had not come. Devoutly religious, she could appreciate that the Christian Church in Russia had survived and flourished despite decades of disapproval and active persecution. Small wonder that she spoke of this event in her Christmas broadcast that year.
* * *
There was another bright moment the following year she visited South Africa, for the first time since 1947. After long years of defiant isolation, the country had abandoned its Apartheid government, become a fully democratic country and been readmitted to the Commonwealth. South Africa had played a minor but significant part in her life and she was delighted to see it again, knowing that an issue which had poisoned Commonwealth relations during the 1980s was laid to rest. Nelson Mandela was now President, and had gained immense international respect for his lack of bitterness towards a regime that had imprisoned him for 27 years. A man of legendary warmth, charm and humour, he would be impossible not to like, and his friendship was much-courted by fashionable liberals. He and the Queen had a genuine and unmistakeable mutual admiration, and she must have found him refreshingly unlike any world statesman with whom she had previously dealt. She brought with her, and gave him, the Order of Merit, an award that is entirely in her personal gift and independent of government recommendation. The only other non-British recipients in recent times have been those two other secular saints of the 20th century – Albert Schweitzer and Mother Theresa.
However popular the Queen had been abroad, the monarchy was in the doldrums at home, with the behaviour of the younger Royals still commanding the headlines. In the middle of the decade came the 50th anniversary of the end of the Second World War. This was to be a national celebration, at which the Family – and especially the Queen and Queen Mother – were to be highly visible. It was speculated by those planning the event, that, with the unpopularity of the monarchy, the turnout would be low. Some suggested that to avoid embarrassment it should be held on a modest scale. But just as with every time this argument had been used since 1947, the pessimists were proved wrong. Hyde Park had been envisaged as the venue, but was felt perhaps to be too big and thus liable to look embarrassingly empty. On the day itself – 8 May – it was packed. This celebration, in any case, focused on the older generation of the Family, and not on their errant offspring. It reminded the public of the service given the country by the Queen and her mother. Recent troubles had, in any case, brought the Queen a great deal of sympathy from across the country and the world. The Queen Mother, with her two daughters, appeared on the Palace balcony just as they had a half-century earlier and, in the course of the celebrations, they sang with the rest of the audience the wartime songs. When one of those who led the singing, Cliff Richard, complimented the Queen Mother on remembering the words, she answered: ‘We’ve been rehearsing this for about three weeks.’
In November 1995 the last nail was put in the coffin of the Wales’s marriage. The previous year, Charles had participated in a televised interview with the broadcaster Jonathan Dimbleby, who had written a magisterial biography of the Prince. The picture it gave of Charles’s parents – his father a no-nonsense bully and his mother preoccupied with affairs of state – was not a flattering one. He himself was presented as an extremely well-meaning man who was doing his best for the country and the monarchy, who was sensitive to social issues and who had an ingrained sense of decency and fairness. The programme was largely remembered, however, for the simple fact that he admitted adultery on television. Now Diana hit back with the same weapon. She too gave an interview, to the BBC current-affairs programme Panorama. Everything about it suggested calculation, including her use of black eye-liner to increase the soulful look with which she regarded the audience. Her delivery was halting, emotional, heartbroken. No one could argue that she was not a wronged woman, but she too admitted adultery, with a Household Cavalry officer. She went on to say that she did not think her husband was fit to become King. Whatever sympathy the Princess garnered from this, to have the future queen insulting her husband in public was undoubtedly an ugly and upsetting episode. She said afterwards that she regretted it and she was deeply contrite about any pain caused to the Queen, whom she genuinely respected, but she had gone into this fully aware of what she was doing. For her mother-in-law, Diana’s appearance to plead her cause in every sitting room in the country was a measure that could simply not be ignored. It had even happened on the Queen’s wedding anniversary. The day after the programme was broadcast, Diana and Charles were written to by Her Majesty and asked to divorce. There was no point trying to keep up appearances when the public now knew all about their animosity. Damage limitation must begin at once before this situation could further threaten the monarchy.
Their separation became final eight months later. Diana, no longer HRH but still a princess, became a celebrity in her own right and a campaigner for good causes. She was quickly removed from the world of the Royal Family – all souvenirs bearing her image at once vanished from the gift shops of royal palaces on the orders of the Queen – although her hold on public affection remained, and she was in no doubt about her ability to win support. She was especially popular in America, whose people have never been able to relate to the Royal Family’s unemotional public style or to appreciate how useful this is. The public there sided with her to such an extent that the USA became ‘Diana territory’. She went there several times. Charles did not go at all.
At home, opinion was divided into two
camps. Traditionalists sided with Charles – he, after all, was the one who was Royal – because they respected his essential integrity and his undemonstrative manner. They viewed Diana as hysterical and self-centred. To others, she was a saint and martyr. Those of modern outlook saw her as a victim of Establishment bullies who had tried to silence her (‘She won’t go quietly,’ she herself had warned). Every divorced, wronged woman in the country empathised with her. So did the froth of the showbusiness world, and the people who sang the songs to which she had danced or made the clothes she wore. This was a cultural conflict between an older, stiff-upper-lip Britain and a new one obsessed with appearance and celebrity. The country braced for a continuing, bruising war of attrition.
The Yorks separated, but this was as amicable as the Wales’s split had been acrimonious. Dubbed ‘the world’s happiest divorced couple’, they remained close friends. The Duchess had continued to be an embarrassment. Prince Philip had described her as ‘pointless’ while the Queen’s Private Secretary, Martin Charteris, had famously summed her up with the words ‘Vulgar! Vulgar! Vulgar!’ Her extravagance – and consequent debts – were a cause for concern, as was her blunt, outspoken manner and willingness to talk to the media about her life within the Family. To the older generation it was inexplicable and horrifying that, instead of keeping their problems to themselves, the younger ones should parade them in the national media. Such openness did them little good. Respect for the monarchy was crumbling, and increasingly often – in pubs and newspapers – was heard the view that the Crown should ‘skip a generation’ so that William would be the next king.
* * *
Suddenly, unpredictably, the war between Charles and Diana was over. It ended on an August night while the Family was at Balmoral. It was as great a shock to them as it was to the rest of the world, but this did not show and was not perceived. Balmoral is a holiday home and, while they are there, the Family are not often seen outside the walls of the estate. Had they been in London, they would perhaps have made some public gesture. As it was, they remained out of sight. This did not mean they were not grieving, merely that they could not be seen to be doing so.
Public opinion was as fickle as always. Throughout that summer there had been much adverse press comment on the Princess’s lifestyle as she was photographed romping in the Mediterranean, and her flirtation with a man many considered unsuitable had lost her much credibility. A cartoon in the Daily Telegraph, in which an exhausted housewife sighs ‘I really need a break – from reading about Diana’s holidays’, summed up an attitude that was widespread. When discussing her future as an ex-Royal, one commentator had suggested than within a decade she would be ‘just another has-been celebrity living in California’, while another predicted her second marriage to ‘a Colorado ski-instructor’. When she died, such criticism melted instantly away. Suddenly it seemed deeply churlish to have begrudged her the right to happiness. Such was the outpouring of grief that any negative attitude was seen as insensitive and spiteful. Her death was so sudden that people were in shock for days afterwards. Tributes piled up in such numbers that florists could not keep up with demand. They carpeted the ground outside the palaces where she had lived and – absurdly – were put on war memorials throughout the country. In death, Diana had won the ‘War of the Waleses’ – at least until public opinion settled down again – and the Royal Family were cast as villains. In this atmosphere of hysteria the truth did not matter, only people’s perceptions. The Princess’s parents-in-law had cast her out. They had then compounded their cruelty by failing to mourn. The day after her death – a Sunday – was one of the few times they could be seen at Balmoral, since they attended church at nearby Crathie. It was therefore noticed that they gave no sign of grief, made no comment and even that – astonishingly – the sermon made no reference to the event.
The Queen’s attitude was that the death was first and foremost a family tragedy and that it should be dealt with in private. Her greatest concern was for her grandsons, who must be protected, and that normality must be preserved as much as possible. To an extent that many people considered inappropriate, this involved business as usual – carrying on with the sporting pursuits of the season apparently as if nothing had happened. It was days before a mounting tide of press outrage, demanding that Her Majesty ‘come back and lead the nation’s mourning’ (‘Show us You Care’, said one headline), convinced her to return. She had never experienced a situation like this, and she had been completely wrong-footed. She was roundly blamed for failing to have a national flag flown at half-mast from the palace, even though no flag other than the Royal Standard was ever seen there. One could not argue points of protocol with a public that was out for blood, and she authorised the change that opinion demanded. It was also said that she had vetoed the idea of a state funeral because Diana was no longer a member of the Family. The truth was that, since no funeral had taken place in these circumstances before, those planning it had no idea what to do. Again the monarchy’s usual standby – precedent: the long-established, long-practised rules for public ceremonies – was of no help. The procedure had to be made up more or less on the spot, and rehearsed with frightening speed.
Having permitted the Union Flag to be hoisted in commemoration of Diana’s death, the Queen has allowed it to be flown over the Palace ever since when she is not in residence – a direct and conspicuous sign of having bowed to public opinion. One can sympathise with her sense of hurt in this matter. The British people have always enjoyed the meticulous way in which their monarchy observes the details of pomp and ritual. Its strict adherence to arcane rules makes public spectacle more splendid and creates a mystique that no other Royal House can boast. Her subjects have been proud of this, yet now it became the very thing that caused them anger. No wonder she found the reaction bewildering.
Yet her presence at once began to turn the tide. Returning to London the day before the funeral, the sight of her car coming down Constitution Hill caused spontaneous applause from the large crowd in front of the Palace. The ‘walkabout’ immediately undertaken by the Queen and her husband to examine the flowers and read inscriptions began to repair the damage. She made a broadcast inside the building, through whose windows the crowd could be seen. It is said that the future of the monarchy hung in the balance during that week, but this is a huge exaggeration. Had the Queen been genuinely unpopular, public opinion would not have forgiven her so swiftly. Once she was seen to be back doing her duty (though she would return to Balmoral the following week), once she had addressed the people ‘as your queen and as a grandmother’, admitting that: ‘there are lessons to be drawn from her life and from the extraordinary reaction to her death’, and once she could be seen mourning – the next day she bowed as Diana’s coffin passed her – her position was quickly restored. The Princess’s death was a tragedy and will always be seen as such, but the Queen’s quiet dignity was not as inappropriate as some believed. Once again, she represented timeless values against the fashion of the moment.
Her Majesty was to change little about her public personality, and that was a good thing. The hysteria subsided after a time and left some of the greatest zealots feeling rather foolish. Plans for a statue never came to fruition. The suggestion that Heathrow Airport be renamed in her honour was quietly ignored, as was the notion that August bank holiday be re-named ‘Diana Day’. The monarch was seen to have learned the necessary lessons, and after all her style of behaviour, always admired, had perhaps been more appropriate than she was given credit for. The Royal Household had established a committee called the Way Ahead Group to review their strategy of visits and functions so as to make them more responsive to public expectations. It was assumed that this body suggested ways of seeming more informal and approachable, and it has certainly been noticeable that one sees far more pictures of the Queen enjoying herself than used to be the case. Palace receptions can be less formal than they were – with the Queen and her family mingling, just as they do at garden parties. The P
alace set up its own website and the Queen has subsequently appeared on Facebook. She has since been seen visiting a McDonald’s as well as a pub, being shown round the set of Eastenders and attending rehearsals for a West End production of Oklahoma.
Those who think this evidence that Her Majesty has ‘turned over a new leaf’ are mistaken. These are things she has always done. Although she may not be familiar with fast-food outlets she has certainly been in pubs before, though admittedly of the rural, beams-and-fireplace sort found in the Home Counties. As for Oklahoma, she knew the show very well since she had been taken to see it by Philip during her courting days, and had at that time had pleasure in playing on the piano one of the songs: ‘People Will Say We’re in Love’. What has changed is that her travels and her work have been given more positive emphasis. We are reminded, for it is easy in the course of a long reign to forget, how much she does and how much she appears to enjoy it. We are also reminded that, though she may often look solemn and cheerless, her personal restraint is part of a discipline that has enabled her to rule extremely well, and has given her the toughness to master crises that might well have overcome a lesser personality. If these qualities make her seem ‘out of date’ or ‘out of touch’, so what? They have been what she and the country needed.
A Brief History of the Private Life of Elizabeth II Page 21
