The tension was there for all to see when Diana attended Royal Ascot with the rest of the family as the second instalment of Morton’s revelations was rolling off the press. Prince Philip snubbed Diana in full view of all the top-hatted people in the royal enclosure. But at least she was there – the Duchess of York was in social Siberia.
With all three of the Queen’s children’s marriages in trouble, it seemed things could not get worse – but they did. That summer, there was nothing even her loyal husband could do when photographs of Sarah, topless in the South of France having her toes sucked by her financial adviser John Bryan, appeared in the Daily Mirror. She was staying at Balmoral with the family when that fatal nail was driven into the coffin of what was left of her reputation. The Queen was ‘furious’, as the duchess recalled. She was cold and abrupt as she berated her semi-detached daughter-in-law for exposing the monarchy to such ridicule. Prince Philip was even more direct, likening her to Edwina Mountbatten, whose morals had long been a source of embarrassment to the royal family. He said to her: ‘You should get to a nunnery – or a madhouse.’
There was still more to come. On 20 November – their forty-fifth wedding anniversary – Windsor Castle was engulfed by flames. Prince Philip was in Argentina at the time on a private visit and could not be contacted immediately. The fire was started by a restorer’s lamp which set a curtain alight. It quickly spread through the Queen’s private chapel and devoured St George’s Hall. Prince Andrew organised the rescue of many of the ancient works of art, but great parts of the building itself were consumed in the blaze. The Queen Mother was lunching at Clarence House when she received the news and as soon as she could leave her guests was driven to Windsor to be with the Queen, who had already arrived from London. Mother and daughter stayed at Royal Lodge that weekend and alone together they could talk over the unhappiness that had recently been thrown at them. The Queen later thanked her mother, saying: ‘It made all the difference to my sanity after that terrible day.’
The castle is Crown property and the fire damaged part of the state apartments, not the Queen’s private rooms. Like other Crown or national properties, Windsor Castle is covered by government indemnity and, not surprisingly, Prime Minister John Major immediately announced that the government would pay for the restoration, as it was the state’s loss, rather than a private one. The decision was greeted with a maelstrom of protest, with even the normally supportive Daily Mail asking: ‘Why should the populace, many of whom have had to make huge sacrifices during the bitter recession, pay the total bill for Windsor Castle, when the Queen pays no taxes, contributes next to nothing?’
Within a week, John Major announced plans that had been in preparation since the summer, and agreed with the Queen and Prince Charles. The civil list, by which all senior members of the royal family were paid a combined salary of £900,000 to cover the costs of their royal duties, would cease, except for the Queen, Prince Philip and the Queen Mother; the rest of the royal family would now be paid for by the Queen. Furthermore, for the first time, she would pay tax on her income from April 1993.
None of this, however, dealt with the immediate issue of paying for the repairs, and so it was eventually agreed in the following spring that the Queen would open the State Rooms of Buckingham Palace to the public during the summer from then on. It was hoped that the £37 million cost of repairs would therefore not need any contribution from the public purse.
Four days after the fire, the Queen made a remarkable speech at a luncheon at the Guildhall to mark the fortieth anniversary of her accession earlier in the year. She had flu and a temperature of 101, but she refused to cancel. Her voice hoarse and deep, she stood up to speak: ‘Nineteen ninety-two is not a year on which I shall look back with undiluted pleasure. In the words of one of my more sympathetic correspondents, it has turned out to be an “Annus Horribilis” [her correspondent was Sir Edward Ford, the former assistant private secretary to King George VI and then to the Queen].’
She continued by saying:
This generosity and whole-hearted kindness of the Corporation of the City to Prince Philip and me would be welcome at any time, but at this particular moment, in the aftermath of Friday’s tragic fire at Windsor, it is especially so . . . It is possible to have too much of a good thing. A well-meaning bishop was obviously doing his best when he told Queen Victoria, ‘Ma’am, we cannot pray too often, nor too fervently, for the royal family.’ The Queen’s reply was: ‘Too fervently, no; too often, yes.’ I, like Queen Victoria, have always been a believer in that old maxim ‘moderation in all things’.
I sometimes wonder how future generations will judge the events of this tumultuous year. I dare say that history will take a slightly more moderate view than that of some contemporary commentators. Distance is well-known to lend enchantment, even to the less attractive views. After all, it has the inestimable advantage of hindsight . . .
There can be no doubt, of course, that criticism is good for people and institutions that are part of public life. No institution – City, monarchy, whatever – should expect to be free from the scrutiny of those who give it their loyalty and support, not to mention those who don’t. But we are all part of the same fabric of our national society and that scrutiny, by one part of another, can be just as effective if it is made with a touch of gentleness, good humour and understanding . . .
Forty years is quite a long time. I am glad to have had the chance to witness, and to take part in, many dramatic changes in life in this country. But I am glad to say that the magnificent standard of hospitality given on so many occasions to the Sovereign by the Lord Mayor of London has not changed at all. It is an outward symbol of one other unchanging factor which I value above all – the loyalty given to me and to my family by so many people in this country, and the Commonwealth, throughout my reign.
The Queen’s lunchtime audience was touched and responded with a standing ovation. The speech not only paved the way for the government’s announcement about the Queen’s taxes and the royal family’s incomes, it would soon be followed by another important family development.
On 9 December, John Major stood up in the House of Commons and said: ‘It is announced from Buckingham Palace that, with regret, the Prince and Princess of Wales have decided to separate . . . This decision has been reached amicably, and they will continue to participate fully in the upbringing of their children . . . The Queen and Duke of Edinburgh, though saddened, understand and sympathise with the difficulties that have led to this decision.’
The Queen was at Wood Farm on the Sandringham Estate with only a handful of staff in attendance when the announcement was made. She did not watch the prime minister on television. Instead, she did what she always did when she was agitated: she took her dogs for a walk through the wintry woods and ploughed fields of Norfolk. When she returned to the back door, a member of staff approached the solitary figure of the sovereign, who was dressed in wellington boots and a loden coat and headscarf. He said how very sorry he was to hear the news. The Queen replied: ‘I think you will find it is all for the best.’
The separation did not go smoothly. On the fortieth anniversary of her Coronation, the Queen awoke to find that the morning newspapers were dominated not by happy remembrances but by the report of a speech Diana had given the night before to the charity Turning Point, in which she had talked of the ‘depression and loneliness’ felt by so many women as they battled against post-natal depression and violence at home. Philip was incensed at what he saw as a deliberate (and highly successful) attempt to upstage the Queen. It was happening too often, he argued, and on his prompting the Queen dispatched her private secretary, Sir Robert Fellowes, to inform the princess that her royal schedule was to be cut back. Diana responded to that rap across her knuckles by announcing her retirement from public life, thereby turning rebuke to advantage and securing another sheaf of headlines of the kind Philip had been so anxious to avoid.
Philip has always enjoyed a pivotal role in the Queen�
��s life. The Queen is the monarch – but it is Philip who always has the final say in family matters. And now his attitude towards his two daughters-in-law became as brutal as it was simple. It was this: Diana and Sarah wanted out of the royal family, so as far as he was concerned they could get out – and stay out. He let them both know exactly what he thought, in letters (he penned dozens to both Diana and Sarah, outlining his point of view in language both blunt and pertinent) and, on occasion, face to face.
It was Philip who had Sarah banned from all the royal homes, including at Christmas time. Despite the Queen’s affection for Prince Andrew’s ex-wife, she would not go her against her husband’s wishes on the matter and has never done so. She tried to persuade Philip to change his mind and allow Sarah to spend part of each summer’s holiday at Balmoral, but he would not budge. In domestic situations such as these, however, the Queen was not above a little underhand subterfuge, and when Philip left Scotland for a few days she would telephone the duchess and say, ‘Here’s your chance – come up now.’
It did not take long for Philip to find out that Sarah had been there, of course. He was not unduly angry – after seventy years of marriage, the Queen and her husband have settled into a state of benevolent compromise on most issues. He simply repeated what he had said before, which was that she had taken the decision to walk out on the royal family, so out she should stay.
His initial attitude to Diana was more ambivalent. Or it was for a while, and then he changed his mind. And that added to the pressure under which the Queen found herself. Like the Queen, he recognised the prominent role in the royal family that Diana had carved out for herself, but he did not like it. This most fiery of men has always been careful to follow tradition and defer to his sovereign on all matters outside the household, even though she happened to be his wife. ‘His constant job is looking after the Queen,’ said his friend and former private secretary, Mike Parker. ‘He told me his job first, second and last was never to let her down.’
It was inevitable, given his belief in the duty of consort to his wife, that he would find himself at odds with the woman who put her personal happiness before the job of being consort to her husband. When the Queen expressed her sympathy with Diana’s predicament, Philip was incensed. As always, he articulated himself forcefully. He accused his wife of ‘procrastinating’ on the question of whether Charles and Diana should divorce. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Princess Anne took her father’s side, as did Prince Edward.
The Queen’s sympathy for Diana’s position was finally put to the sword by the Panorama interview which was broadcast on 20 November 1995. Watched by an audience of 15 million in Britain alone, Diana chose the vehicle of television to declare that there were three people in her marriage. She said she wanted to be Queen of People’s Hearts and she inferred her husband was unfit to be King. ‘Because I know the character,’ she said. ‘I would think the top job, as I call it, would bring enormous limitations to him and I don’t know whether he could adapt to that.’
It was their forty-eighth wedding anniversary and that night the Queen carried on as if nothing had happened. Accompanied by Prince Philip, she attended the Royal Variety Performance at the Dominion Theatre in London starring Cliff Richard, Des O’Connor and Elaine Paige. True to her character of forgiveness, the Queen still retained a smidgen of sympathy for her troubled daughter-in-law and, despite Prince Philip’s misgivings, informed Diana the invitation to spend Christmas with the royal family at Sandringham still held firm.
Diana was not sure what to do and kept changing her mind. When she finally telephoned the Queen to tell her that she would not, after all, be spending Christmas at Sandringham, it was the final straw. This was the moment that Philip took charge. According to one eyewitness, he went ‘ballistic’. Just the mention of Diana’s name was enough to send him into a tirade. Princess Margaret joined the chorus, and so did the Princess Royal.
In any other marriage, it would have been the husband whom one would expect to deal with a situation of this kind. But the royal family is an institution unique unto itself – and the Prince of Wales, like his mother, is not very good at dealing with difficult or unpleasant issues. By default, therefore, it was left to the Queen to face up to the matter and deal with it as best she could. There was no other course open to her, Philip pointed out most firmly. A divorce was the only solution to this untenable mess. And as sovereign, it was within the Queen’s authority to make that clear.
Philip almost had to guide her pen hand across the paper, but at last it was done, and on the morning of Monday 18 December, the letters were hand-delivered to the Prince and Princess of Wales demanding they seek a divorce. Diana was taken aback by the firmness of the Queen’s tone. But it was no longer a matter for her to decide. In giving the Panorama interview, Diana had taken the future out of her own hands. The Queen had reached breaking point and divorce, as painful in its details as its inevitability, was the only option left.
The Queen and Prince Philip’s next concern was for their grandchildren, Princes William and Harry. For William it was particularly difficult as he was only two months into his first ‘half’, as Eton call their terms, when his mother gave her infamous interview. He was thirteen years old and every poignant moment of his parents’ messy life was being played out in daily reports in the press. His parents did what they could, but they too were limited in what they could achieve. Charles, for all his heartfelt concern for his son’s predicament, had always found it difficult to confront problems, while Diana’s influence was now being seriously undermined by the courtiers she both disliked and feared. Her private secretary, Patrick Jephson, noted: ‘It was no secret that towards the end of her life, reactionary elements in the establishment were questioning her desirability as a mentor in the art of kingship.’
The one person who could help, who had to help, was the Queen. She knew only too well what pressures William was facing. She told her advisers that she feared he might crack up like his mother had. But her natural inclination was to let the situation ride in the hope that somehow the problem would melt away. Once again, it was down to Prince Philip to intervene and he pointed out vocally that it was not going to happen and the problem was not going to go away. He insisted the situation that Diana had created had to be confronted – and with Charles too wrapped up in his own concerns, the Queen had to step in to encourage and help their grandson.
On Sundays, all the Eton boys are allowed out into the town. For William it involved a short walk along the high street and across the bridge to Windsor with his detective Graham Cracker at his side. He started joining the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh for lunch. Afterwards, Prince Philip would make a discreet exit and leave the Queen and her grandson together in the Oak Drawing Room overlooking the quadrangle. They talked in a way they could never have done before. One of her great sadnesses was that, until the separation, she had hardly seen him. Now at last she was able to do so on a regular basis and form a proper relationship.
In this quiet intimacy, the Queen was able to impress upon William that the institution of the monarchy was something to be upheld and respected, and worth preserving. It was his birthright, after all, as much as hers. Many years later, William admitted the two of them agreed they had a ‘shared understanding of what’s needed’. But this all came about because, once again, the Duke of Edinburgh had stepped in and saved the day.
Chapter 11
THE DEATH OF DIANA
For any older couple, the death of their grandchildren’s mother is a moment of grief, but also a time when the impact on the whole family can be devastating. When you have to deal with the situation with the whole world watching on, and commenting on your actions, it becomes even more challenging. Twenty years ago, the death of Diana plunged the royal family into chaos. It drew millions onto the streets, exposed the divisions within British society and unleashed an outpouring of public anger against the monarchy that threatened its stability. If in life Diana had been troublesome and difficult, in
death she proved a force beyond control, which drove the Queen and Prince Philip to despair as they saw everything they had worked so hard for come close to being destroyed.
The royal family, holidaying in their Highland fastness at Balmoral that summer, had no inkling of the crisis about to overwhelm them when they received the news that Diana had been killed in a car crash in Paris. The call came through from the embassy in the French capital at 3.30 on the Sunday morning of 31 August 1997, and their first reaction was simply one of dazed bewilderment.
The Queen and Philip were stunned and shocked. Both in their seventies, they were aware of the problems Diana’s relationship with Dodi Fayed was causing, but they never expected it to spiral out of control in such a dramatic way. They had recognised the potential in their daughter-in-law in their different ways and saw her loss for the terrible waste it was. Now they were about to find out just how potent a symbol Diana had become.
Initially, the Queen had been woken by her page at 2am to be told that the princess had been involved in a fatal crash. The first information coming in from Paris was that Dodi Fayed was dead but that Diana had miraculously survived. Pulling on her old-fashioned dressing gown, she had immediately gone out into the corridor, where she met Charles coming out of his own bedroom three doors away on the first floor of the castle.
By then the whole castle had been stirred from its slumbers. Sir Robin Janvrin, the Queen’s deputy private secretary who was in attendance that weekend, had taken up his position in the equerries’ room on the ground floor and was liaising with the embassy in Paris. Footmen and staff had been roused and the Balmoral switchboard, through which all calls are made, was fully manned.
Prince Charles went into his sitting room, which is next to the Queen’s dressing room, to take the calls now coming in, some through the switchboard, others on his mobile telephone, which vibrates instead of ringing. The Queen ordered tea, which was brought up from the kitchen downstairs in a silver teapot and then ignored, as mother and son, joined by Prince Philip, paced up and down, anxiously asking each other what was to be done.
My Husband and I Page 19
