This was a peril mainly for Elizabeth's offspring. She herself never
cheapened the brand. Indeed, courtiers often wished she was not so
rigidly reticent and had a greater sense of the touching gesture that
would play on TV. In 1966 she refused to travel immediately to Aberfan,
a Welsh town where a collapsing slag heap buried a school and killed
144 people, mainly children. She immediately issued a statement of
condolence, and Prince Philip went the next day. But she refused to
go herself for eight days. She feared diverting rescuers with the
fuss of a royal visit. But she also did not grasp, says Robert Lacey,
author of the biography Royal, that her presence could bring comfort.
She disdains what she calls "stunts" and "acting." "She is the very
antithesis of spin," Lacey says. More recently she was visiting a
school in Australia and surprised a young boy as she entered a room.
"Who are you?" he asked. It may be the first time she ever heard that
question; Lacey says he could see her mind working through alternative
answers. She finally smiled and moved on — in silence. "When
in doubt, her instinct is don't say anything, don't do anything."
That combination of introversion and rigidity came as close as anything
has to destroying her reign. The catalyst was the death of Diana,
whose publicity-soaked campaign to become "queen of people's hearts"
resonated on levels Elizabeth had never contemplated. Courtiers could
not initially persuade the Queen to fly the royal standard at Buckingham
Palace at half mast (it had not been lowered when her father the King
died) or to make any convincing warm gesture toward the memory of
Diana — who, after all, had been leaking against the Windsors
viciously for years. Angry crowds on the Mall, furious commentators
and smart advisers persuaded her within days that a seismic change
had shot through public opinion, and the funeral, organized largely
by her aides, was a success for her as well as Diana's memory. It
was a watershed. Elizabeth would never try or wish to touch people
on the primal level Diana reached, which as Pimlott points out has
its roots in ancient traditions of prepotent rulers with divine connections.
A 50-year constitutional monarch cannot afford to burn her candle
at six ends as Diana did. But Elizabeth recognized times had changed
and gave new impetus to the "Way Ahead" group of senior royals and
courtiers that had started wrestling with the issue of modernizing
the monarchy. It hired professional advisers to conduct polls and
focus groups and has entertained such subjects as whether younger
royals can hold jobs, whether to shrink the extended royal family
and whether to end the monarch's role as Supreme Governor of the Church
of England. No major reforms have been implemented, but the packaging
has certainly improved. A snazzy website, www.royal.gov.uk,
has been immensely popular (a Kids' Zone has just been added). Videos
of investitures, receptions and other ceremonial events are released
to give people visual reminders that the Queen is regularly at work.
Commentators have noted the speed and sophistication of Buckingham
Palace's response to the Sept. 11 attacks and the Queen Mother's death.
"The reason the British monarchy has lasted as long as it has is that
it's adapted to its time, while retaining core elements of continuity
and tradition," says the Queen's energetic press secretary Penny Russell-Smith.
"If it didn't continue to evolve, it would have gone the way of the
others."
No one expects an instinctively conservative woman of 76 to overhaul
her job of 50 years radically, which leaves those who want to reform
or abolish it in an awkward fix. They figure serious change will happen
only with the next monarch, but they want to put the legal bricks
in place now so that Charles (or William) does not immediately succeed
to all of the undemocratic powers that the Queen inherited. The Jubilee
has prompted various suggestions for change: among them, that she
should retire, that future heirs to the throne should be required
to attend state schools and use the National Health Service, and that
a system for picking an elected president be devised while there's
plenty of time. But the government is talking about none of this,
and barring revolution in the streets, the Queen will not want to
whittle down her successors' prerogatives. She will certainly face
worse days than her Jubilee.
In October, the trial of Diana's former butler Paul Burrell for allegedly
stealing hundreds of items from her and her boys could raise more
tawdry royal revelations. A bigger problem for the long haul is that
Charles' aides sometimes seem intent on promoting their boss at the
Queen's expense. But the republicans have no real leverage. For all
its vicissitudes, the monarchy remains shockingly popular —
70% prefer it over a republic, a percentage that has barely budged
in 30 years. in a huge hall at Windsor Castle, 700 reporters and editors
are milling around, sucking down the monarch's drinks and canapés
on a beautiful spring day. It is a reception to kick off the Golden
Jubilee. The doors open and the Queen appears, resplendent in a red
dress that sets off her diamonds and silver hair. Her husband is there,
and so are her children Anne, Andrew and Edward, but there is no question
who is the star.
Successive waves of supposedly hard-bitten hacks, many who have made
millions hyping her family's woes, squeeze to get close as she glides
through the warm noisy room. Can she possibly be enjoying this, entertaining
her tormentors? We will never know. She has a job to do — bolstering
the monarchy. She approaches a clutch of us, gives a dazzling smile,
makes engaging small talk, turns according to some internal switch
and repeats her performance, ad infinitum. Press coverage of the event
over the next few days is enthusiastic. The journalists were surprised
how thrilling they found it: in her presence they somehow felt special,
elevated — better about themselves. It defies rational analysis.
But multiplied by millions, there may be no better answer to what
Elizabeth's 50 years have been for.
