decades in the public eye, she had become like a Rorschach test, saying little and allowing others to superimpose their impressions. At a small dinner afterward, Richard Gozney noted that she showed “no visible signs of flagging. She is clearly a master of pacing herself. You don’t see it, but she organizes her own energies and output accordingly.” She had a four-hour stretch of downtime in the next day’s twelve-hour schedule, which she used to do her boxes in her three-room suite.
As she crisscrossed the island, she walked whenever she could, was driven through the streets of Hamilton in an open landau, and slowed her motorcade whenever possible—knowing, as she had said decades earlier, that “I have to be seen to be believed.” An estimated twenty thousand people lined the roads, in some places four deep, far exceeding the turnout on her previous visit in 1994. The enthusiastic support for the monarch was seen as a rebuke to Ewart Brown’s advocacy of independence for the island, which had been rejected repeatedly in public opinion polls.
For her four-hour flight to Trinidad the next day, more than sixty people were on board the British Airways 777, including two private secretaries, her equerry, two ladies-in-waiting, a physician, her personal assistant, a hairdresser, footmen, maids, administrative support personnel, and security officers, along with fifteen members of the broadcast and print media, all spread out in an aircraft that usually accommodates 230.
The royal couple had First Class to themselves, members of the household occupied Business Class, and press and security men occupied Economy. The premium Economy section, with all the center seats removed, held a pile of securely strapped royal luggage overseen by Matthew King, the Traveling Yeoman. The Queen brought thirteen outfits, along with four spare dresses, two diamond tiaras, an array of brooches, necklaces, earrings, and bracelets. In years past, when the royal party traveled on
Elizabeth II was back in her element in the Caribbean. Trinidad and Tobago had obtained independence in 1962 and had voted to become a republic in 1976, but the country remained in the Commonwealth and kept strong financial and cultural ties with Britain, along with an enduring affection for the Queen. She showed her respect during the state dinner on the first night by wearing an Angela Kelly–designed “emblem dress” embroidered with images of the country’s national birds, the scarlet ibis and the cocrico, and the national flower, the wild poinsettia.
She opened the Commonwealth conference the next day by attending an elaborate ceremony in the country’s performing arts center, where she gave a five-minute speech reminding the group that they should work together on environmental problems, especially by helping smaller and more vulnerable countries. “Every word she says is listened to carefully,” said Kamalesh Sharma, an Indian diplomat who was serving as the Commonwealth’s secretary-general.
“The Commonwealth is very much her legacy,” said Brian Mulroney. “For her it is a major achievement and platform.” Without the Queen’s leadership and example, “many of us would have left,” said Kenneth Kaunda, the former president of Zambia. Lacking executive power, she had nevertheless learned to use her role to exert influence and to work quietly behind the scenes to defuse crises. Through her own sources of information, she came to know more about the issues and concerns of Commonwealth countries, particularly in Africa, than her government’s top officials. She developed better relationships with Commonwealth leaders, even the Marxists, than her prime ministers. She could discuss grazing rights in Somalia, or a particular leader’s fishing habits and favorite hymns. Prince Philip said she became the “Commonwealth psychotherapist.”
While in the past she would have twenty-minute audiences with every head of government, in Trinidad she limited herself to a private reception with the fifteen leaders who had taken office since the previous Commonwealth conference two years earlier. At her dinner that evening for all the leaders at the Hyatt Hotel— where each place was set with silver gilt Commonwealth goblets sent over from London the previous week and stored in a vault at the Central Bank in Port of Spain—Gordon Brown was just one among many, a diffident presence at the end of the receiving line.
All the events on the Queen’s tour were stage-managed by press secretary Samantha Cohen. She helped set up photographers’ shots, mindful of vantage points and background colors, and worked with reporters on human interest angles that would appeal to their editors. Unlike the Queen Mother, Elizabeth II “doesn’t look at photographers,” said Robin Nunn, a longtime photographer of the royal family. “Over time you know that she’ll look in a certain direction, so you can catch her.”
Elizabeth II was interested in seeing as much Caribbean culture as possible, so Eric Jenkinson, the British high commissioner in Port of Spain, organized a series of musical performances, followed by a walkabout among masses of children costumed for Carnival. The Queen seemed unperturbed by the frenzy, the noise, and the heat as a scrum of still and video photographers rushed close, little girls dressed as butterflies and hummingbirds twirled and swayed to the rhythms of drums and steel pans, and adults scrambled to catch the scene on their camera phones. Nearly a dozen protection officers formed a cordon by placing themselves nearby, while Samantha Cohen kept her arms on photographer Tim Rooke’s waist as she guided him along. Videographer Peter Wilkinson worked intently but never closer than five feet away, filming for the monarchy’s website as well as a private DVD so the Queen could recall events and see people she missed.
Her final engagement—her fifth evening out—was a garden party for sixty-five worthies at the peach stucco residence of the British high commissioner on a hilltop overlooking Port of Spain. Although she had been going nearly nonstop since mid-morning, she seemed remarkably fresh and no less disciplined as she talked to seven groups arranged by themes such as sport, environment, and culture. The schedule called for 4.5 minutes per group, but Elizabeth II and Philip spent more than the allotted time, somehow managing to cross paths exactly in the middle of the terrace.
With each encounter, the Queen leaned forward, offering a smile and pertinent comment. One young man from Kenya cheekily asked for her favorite song on the iPod given to her by Barack Obama the previous March. “I don’t have time to use it much!” she replied, escaping the query without giving offense. It was a hot night, and the faces of several Palace officials were dripping sweat, but as usual the Queen’s maquillage showed no hint of moisture.
Pausing briefly inside with Jenkinson and his wife, Maire, the Queen had a soft drink and prepared for her long flight home. The royal couple walked into the night and climbed into their car, which remained illuminated as they were driven away while waving to the guests lining the driveway. “That was a seamless beautiful moment,” said one of the security men.
Elizabeth II and her entourage landed on Sunday morning at Heathrow, where they were greeted by Willie Peel, the Lord Chamberlain. After only two days off, she was back on a full work schedule, with an investiture, visits to Wellington College and the Ashmolean Museum, and a dinner party for twenty-five at Windsor Castle. “I sometimes think her advisers don’t realize she is 83 years old,” said her cousin Margaret Rhodes. “But maybe she doesn’t want them to slow her down.”
Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip, her husband of sixty-three years, during the wedding of their grandson Prince William to Catherine Middleton at Westminster Abbey, April 2011.
