Elizabeth the Queen: The Life of a Modern Monarch

Elizabeth II “a terrible wallop of grief,” said Margaret Rhodes. “It was a huge thing,” said Elizabeth Anson. “The two people she talked to every day on the phone—neither of them was there.” The full impact of those losses—and of her altered relationship with the public—would become more evident later. In the meantime, Elizabeth II found solace in her duty.

“Suddenly they got the point of

the Queen, who had been doing

her job for fifty years.”

Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip riding in the Gold State Coach from Buckingham Palace to St. Paul’s Cathedral for the Golden Jubilee service of thanksgiving, June 2002. Rebecca Nadin/Press Association Images

NINETEEN

Moving Pictures

“THE BRITISH HAVE LOST THE HABIT OF PROPER PARTYING,” SAID historian David Starkey at the end of January 2002, explaining that changes in the nature of British society meant the celebratory atmosphere of the Silver Jubilee could not possibly be duplicated twenty-five years later. Starkey was part of a chorus of skeptics predicting the Golden Jubilee would be a flop. As it had in 1977, The Guardian led the charge, joined by The Independent—the same newspapers that had predicted a tepid response to the death of the Queen Mother.

Even after the outpouring of enthusiasm for the monarchy shown by the crowds for her funeral, much of the press had remained dubious. In keeping with its “softly, softly” strategy of holding down expectations, Buckingham Palace advisers concentrated on refining their ambitious plans. The celebration was privately financed, and had taken eighteen months to map out. Shipping magnate Jeffrey Sterling, Lord Sterling of Plaistow, who had successfully run the Silver Jubilee, was appointed chairman of the Golden Jubilee committee. Within a matter of months, he raised nearly ?6 million from corporations and individuals who wanted to honor their Queen.

A crucial part of the Palace strategy involved an advisory group of outsiders that met fifteen times in 2001 over lunches hosted by Robin Janvrin in the Chinese Dining Room. Its members were drawn from the senior ranks of public relations, broadcasting, magazines, and newspapers, including Libby Purves, a columnist for The Times who articulated the views of “middle Britain.” In the spirit of their more open approach, Janvrin and Simon Walker also invited such critics of the monarchy as Waheed Alli, a Labour peer who was a highly successful television producer and gay rights activist. The committee members made their own suggestions and commented on plans presented by Palace officials. Neither the committee’s membership nor details of its deliberations ever leaked.

Private polling and focus groups measured the Queen’s popularity by region. This research helped the Queen’s advisers plan her three-month-long progress starting on May 1 with sixteen regional tours throughout the United Kingdom. The Palace intentionally launched the tours in Cornwall and Devon, counties that showed some of the highest support for the monarchy. To ensure maximum coverage, the press office briefed three thousand community organizations even before conducting off-the-record briefings for national and regional media, followed by meetings with the international press.

On April 25, 2002, the Queen had a reception at Windsor Castle for more than 750 journalists representing the smallest regional newspapers as well as the major dailies in London. Alastair Campbell acidly observed that “there was something truly pathetic about these so-called hardened hacks, many of them self-proclaimed republicans, bowing and scraping.” The Queen “moved effortlessly between them and left grown men in little puddles of excitement.” Afterward, Simon Walker suggested to the Queen that they should have a similar party in five years’ time. She said she preferred ten.

Four nights later, Tony and Cherie Blair hosted a dinner at 10 Downing Street for Elizabeth II and Philip and her surviving prime ministers—Heath, Callaghan, Thatcher, and Major—and the families of the others. “What a relief!” the Queen said as she greeted the Blairs. “No need for any introductions!” Campbell detected a marked difference in the Queen’s manner from her evening at Windsor “when she had been doing her professional small-talk thing,” and at No. 10, “where she seemed genuinely happy.”

The following day, Elizabeth II addressed the Joint Houses of Parliament in Westminster Hall, where her mother’s body had lain in state only three weeks earlier. As was the case in the same setting in 1977, her words were personal, and they reflected the essential message of her jubilee year. “Change has become a constant,” she said. “Managing it has become an expanding discipline. The way we embrace it defines our future.” She emphasized the importance of Britain’s enduring values of moderation and pragmatism, inventiveness and creativity, and fairness and tolerance, as well as its tradition of service.

In keeping with her theme of inclusiveness, she cited “the consolidation of our richly multicultural and multi- faith society” as a “major development” since 1952, achieved “remarkably peacefully and with much goodwill.” (Only days earlier, the Palace had announced that during her travels over the summer, she would visit a Hindu temple, a Jewish museum, a Sikh temple, and an Islamic center—her first time inside a mosque.) At seventy-six years of age, she made clear—yet again—“my resolve to continue, with the support of my family, to serve the people of this great nation of ours to the best of my ability through the changing times ahead.” One thousand peers and members of Parliament rose to their feet and gave her a loud and prolonged round of applause—the magnitude of which seemed to both move and embarrass her.

After her first three regional swings through England, she traveled to Northern Ireland on May 13 for a three-day tour in an atmosphere far different from her tense visit during the Silver Jubilee. On April 10, 1998, the Good Friday Agreement had brought peace to Ulster with a compromise to share power between the Protestant majority and Catholic minority in a newly created legislative assembly (ending direct London rule). The accord also put aside the idea of a united Ireland unless approved by the voters in both Ulster and the Republic of Ireland.

Four years later, Elizabeth II addressed legislators from the new Northern Ireland Assembly for the first time as their Queen at a reception in the parliament buildings at Stormont. She told them they had “an historic opportunity to bring the administration of Northern Ireland closer to the people whom you serve” and to “meet the aspirations both of those who are proud to be British and of those who feel a strong sense of Irish identity.”

THE CENTERPIECE OF the Golden Jubilee festivities was a four-day “people’s party” at the beginning of June, with two unprecedented concerts in the gardens at Buckingham Palace. Each concert was attended by twelve thousand fans randomly selected from nearly two million applicants, and both were televised live by the BBC. The music was classical on Saturday the 1st and pop on Monday the 3rd.

Initiating the pop concert required some delicate maneuvering. “It was important to have young support for the jubilee,” said Simon Walker. Robin Janvrin ultimately won over the Queen, who made it clear she had no interest in spending three hours listening to pop singers. As a compromise, the courtiers arranged for her to arrive about thirty-five minutes before the end.

The concert began dramatically with Brian May, the guitarist from Queen, standing on the roof of Buckingham Palace playing his idiosyncratic version of the national anthem. When Elizabeth II appeared, Eric Clapton was singing “Layla,” and the comedian Dame Edna Everage introduced her as the “Golden Jubilee girl.” The Queen, who wore yellow earplugs, sat with Philip, the Blairs, and twenty-four members of the royal family in the VIP box for the remaining acts, which ended with Paul McCartney singing “Hey Jude.” Accompanied by her husband, Charles,