With more dignity than warmth, the Queen went to ten cities in eleven days and was widely praised. "For the thirty-nine-year-old British monarch, theoretically above politics," said U.S. News & World Report, U.S. News & World Report, "it was a highly political performance." "it was a highly political performance."

Criticism toward the Crown had become increasingly strident. In 1957, after Lord Altrincham criticized the Queen as "priggish" and "a pain in the neck," he was slugged by a man on the street who considered his words blasphemous. A year later, when Malcolm Muggeridge, a leading British journalist, dismissed the Queen as "a nice, homely little woman" whose monarchy was "a transparent hoax," he was banned from appearing on the BBC. Yet within ten years criticism of the Crown had become commonplace. Students in the sixties were apathetic toward the monarchy. To them the royal family seemed irrelevant, almost laughable. Movie houses had stopped playing the National Anthem because too many young people booed. The Oxford University Union debated the resolution: "The Monarchy should be sacked, Buckingham Palace given to the homeless, and the corgis put to productive work."

The monarchy could still count on the establishment press-the Times Times and the and the Daily Telegraph- Daily Telegraph- to pay homage. Both newspapers published the Court Circular, to pay homage. Both newspapers published the Court Circular,* which lists the activities of the royal family and is delivered to the papers by Palace messenger every day. One day in 1966, according to a which lists the activities of the royal family and is delivered to the papers by Palace messenger every day. One day in 1966, according to a Telegraph Telegraph editor, that delivery was jeopardized because of what the Palace perceived as a gross lack of deference. editor, that delivery was jeopardized because of what the Palace perceived as a gross lack of deference.

"We cannot go on supplying you with the Court Circular," a Palace spokesman told the editor, "if you continue with your unjustifiable attacks on the Princess Margaret."

"What attacks?" asked the editor, who was embarra.s.sed by his newspaper's subservience to the royal family.

"What attacks indeed?" said the Palace spokesman. "You know perfectly well that as a Princess of the Blood Royal, she is ent.i.tled to the word 'the' in front of her name."

The omission was duly rectified.

During the same period, the Sunday Times Sunday Times commissioned a Cambridge don to write a small biography of the Queen for a feature ent.i.tled "The 1,000 Men and Women of the Century." The biography referred to the Queen as belonging to the "regnum of ma.s.s consumption... like most carefully designed products, the Queen comes flavourless, harmless, beautifully packaged but a bit expensive.... Cluttered with amiable feudal eccentricities... the monarchy survives to restore its earliest function, to celebrate the rite of fantasy." commissioned a Cambridge don to write a small biography of the Queen for a feature ent.i.tled "The 1,000 Men and Women of the Century." The biography referred to the Queen as belonging to the "regnum of ma.s.s consumption... like most carefully designed products, the Queen comes flavourless, harmless, beautifully packaged but a bit expensive.... Cluttered with amiable feudal eccentricities... the monarchy survives to restore its earliest function, to celebrate the rite of fantasy."

The don's contribution was immediately rejected. A more respectful editor rewrote the piece and referred to Her Majesty as "charming, witty and wise... with beautiful eyes and a peaches and cream complexion."

Even the blinkered courtiers noticed a lack of deference among young people and tried to make the Queen appear more relevant. They announced she would honor the Beatles with the Member of the Order of the British Empire.*

"Wow," said John Lennon. "I thought you had to drive tanks and win wars to get the MBE."

Some people protested the award to the Beatles by returning their MBEs to the Palace, the first time such honors had ever been renounced. Lennon was furious. "Army officers received their medals for killing people," he said. "We got ours for entertaining. On balance, I'd say we deserve ours more."

Four years later he returned the medal to the Queen to protest British involvement in the Nigerian civil war and Britain's support of U.S. action in Vietnam. "Really should not have taken it," Lennon said of the honor. "Felt I had sold out...." One man who had sent his medal back to the Palace in protest of the Beatles' award now asked to have it returned.

When the four working-cla.s.s lads from Liverpool arrived at Buckingham Palace in 1965 to receive their medals, they had to be protected by police from their screeching fans. Newspapers reported that they huddled in a Palace lavatory before meeting the Queen and smoked marijuana.

"We've played Frisco's Cow Palace, but never one like this," said Paul McCartney after the visit. "It's a keen pad."

"And Her Majesty?" asked a reporter.

"She was like a mum to us."

He paid amused homage to the Queen by writing a lyric in her honor ent.i.tled "Her Majesty's a Pretty Nice Girl, But She Doesn't Have a Lot to Say."

The next year the Queen broke with precedent to knight a Roman Catholic, a black, and a rabbi. She even gave her divorced cousin the Earl of Harewood permission to remarry* when she found out his mistress was pregnant. Still, she was criticized for being out of touch with the times. Philip thought the problem was dull domesticity, which he said the Queen represented when she had another child in 1964. "Nothing more ordinary than a middle-aged Queen with a middle-aged husband and four growing children," he told a group of journalists. "I would have thought that we're entering the least interesting period of our kind of glamorous existence.... There used to be much more interest. Now people take it all as a matter of course. Either they can't stand us, or they think we're all right." when she found out his mistress was pregnant. Still, she was criticized for being out of touch with the times. Philip thought the problem was dull domesticity, which he said the Queen represented when she had another child in 1964. "Nothing more ordinary than a middle-aged Queen with a middle-aged husband and four growing children," he told a group of journalists. "I would have thought that we're entering the least interesting period of our kind of glamorous existence.... There used to be much more interest. Now people take it all as a matter of course. Either they can't stand us, or they think we're all right."

In promoting the Firm, as Philip called the royal family, he traveled constantly to open British exhibits, push British products, support British trade. Always, the mystique of royalty had insured enthusiastic crowds for him and the Queen, especially in America. But by 1966 no one seemed to care. So when he agreed to tour the United States to raise money for Variety Clubs International, he summoned a Hollywood press agent.

"I was the lucky guy," said Henry Rogers of Rogers & Cowan, the Los Angeles based public relations firm. "Although I've represented the biggest names in Hollywood, like Frank Sinatra and Rita Hayworth, I got a special thrill out of having a member of the royal family as a client.... Before I got the a.s.signment, I had to go to Buckingham Palace to meet with Prince Philip. He was polite, a bit reserved, but very gracious. Best of all, he was receptive to my ideas."

Rogers's first suggestion was for the Prince to hold a press conference in every city. Prince Philip laughed.

"Oh, G.o.d, Henry," he said. "I've never done a press conference* before. We never do things like that in the royal household. It's just contrary to our policy. But if you think we should have a press conference, then we'll have a press conference.... But there have to be a few ground rules, and I would appreciate it if you would alert the press in advance to what they are." before. We never do things like that in the royal household. It's just contrary to our policy. But if you think we should have a press conference, then we'll have a press conference.... But there have to be a few ground rules, and I would appreciate it if you would alert the press in advance to what they are."

The Duke of Edinburgh then explained his constrained role as Consort. "First, make it clear to them that I am not in the British government. Press outside Great Britain are often confused about what role the Queen and I play in our country. Not being a part of the government, I cannot very well answer questions about the British economy, the Tory versus Labor Party, the Prime Minister, the union problems, and inflation. Second, I will not handle any personal questions about the Queen. Outside of that, you can declare open season and let them fire away."

The press agent told the Prince not to worry. "All the questions will be inane," he said. And most were. But Philip handled them with breezy humor.

"Tell us about the London Symphony," said a reporter in Miami.

"It plays good music," said Philip.

"Have you considered sending your children to a U.S. school?"

"An absolutely truthful answer is no, but now you're making me think about it. Hmmmm. The answer is still no."

"What do you think of the success of the Beatles?* As an export product, don't they bring more money into Britain?" As an export product, don't they bring more money into Britain?"

"It's a very small return for some of the things imposed on Britain."

"Is this your first visit to America?"

"No," said Philip. "My first visit was during the reign of Harry Truman."

"Why is the Queen's birthday-"

"Don't ask me to explain why it is that she has an official birthday in June when her proper birthday is in April. You'll just have to accept it, like cricket, pounds, shillings, and pence, and other quaint British customs."

Reporters were amused by the Prince, and in every city he received laudatory press coverage. He raised a million dollars for charity and returned home convinced that the Palace needed the British version of a Hollywood press agent. The Queen rejected his idea as utterly preposterous, saying that she did not have to sell herself or her monarchy.

"My father never did," she said.

"He didn't need to," said her husband. "He had Winston Churchill and World War Two." This prompted a quarrel in front of the footman.

Philip again referred to the Firm in front of a group of journalists. "To survive, the monarchy has to change," he said. "No one wants to end up like a brontosaurus, who couldn't adapt himself, and ended up stuffed in a museum. It isn't exactly where I want to end up myself."

He continued to badger his wife about the problem, but she did not pay much attention-until the morning he stormed into her bedroom suite, waving his copy of the Sunday Telegraph, Sunday Telegraph, the conservative right-wing royalist newspaper he once jokingly called "the family bugle." the conservative right-wing royalist newspaper he once jokingly called "the family bugle."

"You might be interested in this," he said, slapping the front page down in front of her.

The Queen put on her spectacles and read the article about the "marked change in the public's att.i.tude toward the Crown."

Philip paced up and down in front of the Queen's footman.

Without comment she continued to read: Most people care much less than they did-particularly the young, many of whom regard the Queen as the arch-square. They are not against against in the sense of being in the sense of being for for a republic. They are quite simply indifferent.... The British monarchy will not be swept away in anger, but it could well be swallowed up in a great and growing yawn. a republic. They are quite simply indifferent.... The British monarchy will not be swept away in anger, but it could well be swallowed up in a great and growing yawn.

A few weeks later, when her press secretary, Commander Richard Colville, retired, an energetic Australian, William Heseltine, succeeded him. "When I took over, things were bound to change," he said. "The essence of the Queen's role is communication, and it needed improvement.... During the sixties, the family had dropped from the news pages to the gossip columns. I wanted to rectify that by getting them back from the gossip columns onto the news pages where they belonged, and by making greater use of television."

Heseltine's first responsibility was to handle preparations for the invest.i.ture of Charles as Prince of Wales.* Years before, the Queen had promised the people of Wales that she would present her eldest son to them at Caernarvon Castle. She decided that Charles was ready to be crowned a few months before his twenty-first birthday. She agreed to have the invest.i.ture televised because she felt the miniature coronation ceremony was part of the continuity of the monarchy. Years before, the Queen had promised the people of Wales that she would present her eldest son to them at Caernarvon Castle. She decided that Charles was ready to be crowned a few months before his twenty-first birthday. She agreed to have the invest.i.ture televised because she felt the miniature coronation ceremony was part of the continuity of the monarchy.

The BBC television producer suggested making a biographical film of Prince Charles, but the Queen and Prince Philip said no; they thought their son was too inexperienced to handle unscripted questions. The producer then suggested a film showing what sort of life Prince Charles faced as the heir apparent. Again the Queen and Prince Philip said no, but, influenced by the enthusiasm of Heseltine for television, they agreed to consider a doc.u.mentary about the royal family and the work they do. The new Palace press secretary wanted to show the Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh, and their four children as something more than stiff cardboard cutouts. "No one knew them as people," he said. "We needed to make them more rounded and human for the general public." In this he was supported by Lord Mountbatten, who had recently filmed an eight-part series on his life for the BBC.

Still, the Queen resisted. She did not want the monarchy to have anything to do with show business, and she certainly did not want her family acting like television stars. "I'm not Jackie Kennedy and this isn't the White House," she said, referring to the First Lady's televised tour of the White House. The Queen disliked performing on television and could never relax in front of the camera. She dreaded having to televise her annual Christmas message, which was staged and carefully produced with makeup artists, technicians, and TelePrompTers. She could not conceive of having television cameras follow her around every day, recording her offhand remarks and actions.

"The Queen also questioned if it would be sensible to allow television to intrude into the family's private life," recalled Heseltine. "In the end, however, she agreed."

It took three months of negotiation to get her approval. "You know the proverb 'When elephants wrestle, it is the gra.s.s that suffers,' " said one man involved in the discussions. "There was Prince Philip to contend with; he kept saying, 'Most journalists just want the shot where you're seen picking your nose,' and Cawston [BBC doc.u.mentary executive] kept saying, 'I'm not a journalist.' Then there was Mountbatten, who, of course, knew all there was to know about broadcasting, and Mountbatten's son-in-law, Lord Brabourne, who as a film producer actually did know something. He was the one who brought on Richard Cawston, head of the BBC's doc.u.mentary department."

The Queen finally gave her consent to the film when she was a.s.sured total editorial control, including the copyright,* plus half the profits from worldwide sales. plus half the profits from worldwide sales. She then agreed to allow the BBC's camera crew inside her office at Buckingham Palace during her weekly audience with the Prime Minister, which previously had been so privileged that even her husband had been excluded. She also invited the television crew into her home at Balmoral for a family picnic. To sell to the lucrative American market, she suggested a segment with President Nixon on his visit to London and another segment showing Walter Annenberg presenting his credentials as the Amba.s.sador to the Court of St. James's. "We need something special," said the Queen. She then agreed to allow the BBC's camera crew inside her office at Buckingham Palace during her weekly audience with the Prime Minister, which previously had been so privileged that even her husband had been excluded. She also invited the television crew into her home at Balmoral for a family picnic. To sell to the lucrative American market, she suggested a segment with President Nixon on his visit to London and another segment showing Walter Annenberg presenting his credentials as the Amba.s.sador to the Court of St. James's. "We need something special," said the Queen.

But not so special as to create controversy. Her Majesty knew better than to allow cameras to accompany her to St. George's Chapel at Windsor on the morning of March 31, 1969, for the secret reinternment of her father. She knew the public might be jolted to learn that the King's body had lain unburied for seventeen years in an oak coffin locked in a small pa.s.sageway under the castle. So she ordered the Windsor grounds closed to the public and summoned the royal family to the chapel, where the Dean of Windsor, the Right Reverend Robin Woods, conducted the solemn burial service in private. to the chapel, where the Dean of Windsor, the Right Reverend Robin Woods, conducted the solemn burial service in private.

Throughout the filming, the BBC crew took direction from the Queen. At one point the producer suggested she exercise one of her corgis. Her Majesty insisted on exercising all of them. Her husband, who despised his wife's nipping dogs, exploded.

"They want one of the f.u.c.king animals, do you understand?" snapped the Duke of Edinburgh. "Not fourteen f.u.c.king dogs."

In the film, that scene showed the Queen without her husband but with all her corgis.

The BBC producer described the film as historic. "I'm sure people will find it fascinating because it will show the role of the monarchy, the day-to-day running carried on in private, and how the monarchy fits into the present day and age.

"It's terribly important people should understand it's not a film about ceremonies. What they really want to know about is what the Queen does, what goes on inside the Palace, what the job consists of.... It won't be a formal type, but more of a film about people than buildings and ceremonies. The object of any doc.u.mentary is to show people as they really are." He rea.s.sessed his view after seeing the effect of his film on people: "Monarchy is is PR.... Public relations-a focus for public interest-is what it is all about." PR.... Public relations-a focus for public interest-is what it is all about."

The anthropologist David Attenborough had told the producer that the doc.u.mentary would kill the monarchy. "The whole inst.i.tution depends on mystique and the tribal chief in his hut," he said. "If any member of the tribe ever sees inside the hut, then the whole system of the tribal chiefdom is damaged and the tribe eventually disintegrates."

The television cameras stayed in the Queen's hut for seventy-five days and even accompanied her on a state visit to Chile. More than forty hours were filmed at a cost of $350,000. The 105-minute* doc.u.mentary, ent.i.tled doc.u.mentary, ent.i.tled Royal Family Royal Family (but nicknamed (but nicknamed Corgi and Beth Corgi and Beth), was seen by forty million Britons in June 1969. It was shown again in December, which is why the Queen canceled her annual Christmas Day message that year. "Enough is enough," said the Palace, but twenty thousand Britons disagreed and wrote letters protesting her not delivering the yuletide address.

"The most exciting film ever made for television" was how the BBC commentator introduced the show to viewers. Then they watched their Queen and Prince Charles prepare a salad at a family barbecue while Prince Philip and Princess Anne grilled sausages and steaks.

The Queen tested the salad dressing by poking her little finger into the mixture and licking it. She grimaced. "Oh, too oily," she said. She added more vinegar, p.r.o.nounced the dressing perfect, and walked over to her husband. "Well, the salad is finished," she said.

"Well done," said Prince Philip. "This, as you will observe, is not."

In another scene, the Queen, known to her subjects as the richest woman in the world, fingers a fabulous necklace of rubies. She says how much she likes it and that it came to Queen Victoria from the ruler of Persia. Then, in a puzzled voice, she turns to her lady-in-waiting and asks, "I have actually worn this, haven't I?"

Minutes later the monarch, who supposedly never handles money, goes into a shop with her four-year-old son, Prince Edward, to buy him a sweet. She pays, saying she has just enough cash on her to cover the bill.

In another scene, the Queen laughs as she asks her family: "How do you keep a regally straight face when a footman tells you: 'Your Majesty, your next audience is with a gorilla'? It was an official visitor, but he looked just like a gorilla." The Queen said she could not hide her laughter.

"Pretend to blow your nose," advised Prince Charles, "and keep the handkerchief up to your face."

The Queen did not need to censor the film beforehand, although her husband worried that she might be concerned about the scene where Prince Charles shows his youngest brother how to tune a cello. In tightening the instrument, Charles breaks the A string, which grazes Edward's cheek, stinging him to tears. After screening the film, the Queen said, "It's the sort of thing that can happen to anyone." She p.r.o.nounced the film fine just as it was.

Most of the critics agreed, including the Times, Times, which editorialized about the importance of the doc.u.mentary in showing the advantages of the British system of monarchy, especially when the sovereign is trained in the duties of royalty and is surrounded by a family with similar training and tradition of service. which editorialized about the importance of the doc.u.mentary in showing the advantages of the British system of monarchy, especially when the sovereign is trained in the duties of royalty and is surrounded by a family with similar training and tradition of service.

"A romp with royalty," raved one critic. "Everyone deserves a bow for this show."

"The refurbishing of the royal image that has been going on for some time now has been managed with some skill," wrote William Hardcastle, a former newspaper editor, "and skill in this field involves judgment of when enough is enough. My guess is that 'Royal Family' is at the completion of a process rather than a herald of further revelations to come."

Little did he know. The monarchy had used television to enhance its image because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Only years later would it look like a blunder.

ELEVEN.

Prince Charles peered at the poster on the dormitory wall with its photo of three young women sitting on an Edwardian sofa. The girls smiled invitingly under their slouch-brimmed hats. One long-haired beauty wore sandals; the other two were barefoot. The caption read "Girls Say Yes to Boys Who Say No." Proceeds from the sale of the poster supported the draft resistance.

"Appalling," said the Prince, shaking his head. "Bizarre and appalling."

The Prince of Wales was not a man of his times. While many Cambridge students were protesting the war in Vietnam, he was playing polo. He avoided political activists, whom he called "nutters." And he disliked hippies. He called flower children "freaks" and d.a.m.ned feminists as "idiotic man haters." He loved the Goons, a group of British comedians known for broad humor and brash antics. (Germans referred to the group as Die Doofen, Die Doofen, or "The Stupids.") or "The Stupids.") Charles celebrated himself as old-fashioned. "I am proud to be a square," he said. While other young men streamed into singles' bars and took part in the s.e.xual revolution, the Prince of Wales sipped cherry brandy and held on to his virginity. He stood ramrod straight during the swinging sixties and praised the sanct.i.ty of marriage. He declared he would not wed before the age of thirty.

By the time he was eighteen, the world's richest* teenager still hadn't gone on his first date. But three years later, in his last year at Cambridge, he was seduced by a young South American girl, who was a research a.s.sistant to the master of his college. Following his s.e.xual initiation, Charles took a string of lovers, and he instructed each to call him "sir"-even in bed. teenager still hadn't gone on his first date. But three years later, in his last year at Cambridge, he was seduced by a young South American girl, who was a research a.s.sistant to the master of his college. Following his s.e.xual initiation, Charles took a string of lovers, and he instructed each to call him "sir"-even in bed.

"I adore Prince Charles," said novelist Barbara Cartland, "and Lord Mountbatten, whom I was very fond of, always said Charles would make a great King. d.i.c.kie helped him become a man by giving him the privacy he needed at Broadlands [Mountbatten's estate] to discreetly entertain young women. Away from the prying eyes of the press."

Charles looked up to Mountbatten as "the most brilliant and kindest of great-uncles/grandpas," and Mountbatten reveled in that role. "Mostly, he enjoyed acting as royal procurer," surmised John Barratt, Mountbatten's private secretary. "We arranged several weekends at Broadlands for Charles to entertain young women-Lady Jane Wellesley, a direct descendant of the Duke of Wellington; Lucia Santa Cruz, daughter of the Chilean Amba.s.sador; and Camilla Shand, whose great-grandmother Alice Keppel was the mistress of Edward VII, Charles's great-great-grandfather. Camilla later married Major Andrew Parker Bowles. She was quite pleasant and frisky, but Charles was a late bloomer. Pity he was too inexperienced then to know that she would become the love of his life." Pity he was too inexperienced then to know that she would become the love of his life."

One young woman Mountbatten served up was his fifteen-year-old granddaughter, Amanda Knatchbull, the second daughter of Lord and Lady Brabourne. Nine years younger than Charles, Amanda fired her grandfather's dynastic fantasies. Mountbatten saw her as the next Queen of England and, ever the scheming matchmaker, did all he could to foster her relationship with Charles, who was her second cousin. Mountbatten invited them to spend weekends with him at Broadlands and threw them together on family vacations. After one such holiday in the Bahamas, Charles revved Mountbatten to new heights by writing, "I must say Amanda really has grown into a very good-looking girl-most disturbing." When Prince Philip learned of Mountbatten's matchmaking, he approved. "Good," he said. "It beats having strangers come into the family." Until Amanda was old enough to be considered seriously, Mountbatten advised Charles to become "a moving target" for women. In a letter, he recommended taking many lovers: Nine years younger than Charles, Amanda fired her grandfather's dynastic fantasies. Mountbatten saw her as the next Queen of England and, ever the scheming matchmaker, did all he could to foster her relationship with Charles, who was her second cousin. Mountbatten invited them to spend weekends with him at Broadlands and threw them together on family vacations. After one such holiday in the Bahamas, Charles revved Mountbatten to new heights by writing, "I must say Amanda really has grown into a very good-looking girl-most disturbing." When Prince Philip learned of Mountbatten's matchmaking, he approved. "Good," he said. "It beats having strangers come into the family." Until Amanda was old enough to be considered seriously, Mountbatten advised Charles to become "a moving target" for women. In a letter, he recommended taking many lovers: I believe, in a case like yours, the man should sow his wild oats and have as many affairs as he can before settling down but for a wife he should choose a suitable, attractive and sweet-charactered girl I believe, in a case like yours, the man should sow his wild oats and have as many affairs as he can before settling down but for a wife he should choose a suitable, attractive and sweet-charactered girl before before she met anyone else she might fall for. After all, [your] Mummy never seriously thought of anyone else after the Dartmouth encounter when she was 13! I think it is disturbing for women to have experiences if they have to remain on a pedestal after marriage. she met anyone else she might fall for. After all, [your] Mummy never seriously thought of anyone else after the Dartmouth encounter when she was 13! I think it is disturbing for women to have experiences if they have to remain on a pedestal after marriage.

He advised Charles to shop carefully for a wife. "A buyer must have a hundred eyes," said Mountbatten, repeating an Arab proverb. "He instructed him to choose only wealthy young women from the upper cla.s.ses," said Barratt, "because their money and social position would insure discretion." When asked if it was true, as reported in a book, that Mountbatten had set up a private fund administered by a British lawyer through a bank in the Bahamas to pay off "troublesome conquests" and "one-night stands" who might embarra.s.s the Prince of Wales by their disclosures, Barratt smiled. "Sounds absurd, but Lord Louie would have done anything to protect Prince Charles and the monarchy."

Mountbatten portrayed his protege as the most eligible bachelor in the world, a s.e.xual magnet to women. He compared him with movie stars like Warren Beatty and bragged to Time Time that Charles enjoyed "popping in and out of bed with girls." Privately, though, Mountbatten fretted about how emotionally immature the Prince was. "He falls in love too easily," Mountbatten told Barbara Cartland. "And he does cling so." that Charles enjoyed "popping in and out of bed with girls." Privately, though, Mountbatten fretted about how emotionally immature the Prince was. "He falls in love too easily," Mountbatten told Barbara Cartland. "And he does cling so."

The press followed Charles whenever he appeared in public with a date, tracking him across Alpine ski slopes and Caribbean beaches. Some reporters even followed him when he did not expect press coverage. "I remember sitting in the bushes watching Charles attempt to make love to Anna Wallace on the beach of the river Dee at Balmoral," recalled journalist James Whitaker. "Moments before the royal wick was lit, he spotted us crawling on our bellies with binoculars. He jumped up and hid in the bushes, leaving poor Anna to pull up her knickers. He was a wimp that day. He hid and cowered and left the young woman unprotected. He shouldn't have done that-I was ashamed for him-but, of course, I didn't print the story. He is, after all, my future King."

On paper, HRH Prince Charles Philip Arthur George, Prince of Wales, Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Lord of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles, and Prince and Great Steward of Scotland looked impressive.

But he was like the man Jane Austen described in Sense and Sensibility Sense and Sensibility: "The kind of man everyone speaks highly of but no one wants to talk to." With his fusty manner and furrowed brow, he looked like a worried clerk. Uncertain and indecisive, he seemed overwhelmed by the weight of his t.i.tles and his country's expectations. Destined to become Charles III, the forty-first sovereign of England since 1066, he knew he was different.

"I am not a normal person in the normal sense of the word," he told the press. "I can't afford to be. I have been trained in a certain way, even programmed, if you like. My parents have always been most careful with this, obviously to the benefit of the throne of England. But this has tended to isolate me from normal life."

Sober and somber, the Prince exuded a heavy weariness-so much so that his cla.s.smates at Cambridge wrote him off as a dolt and a plodder.* "He walks into a room like a dark cloud in a double-breasted suit," said one. Even his closest friends called him "the old soul." "He walks into a room like a dark cloud in a double-breasted suit," said one. Even his closest friends called him "the old soul."

"Charles is not a fast-car sort of man," said a Cambridge cla.s.smate. "He's all stick-out ears and bobbing Adam's apple-the little boy that grandmothers fancy."

A rapt listener, and extraordinarily polite, Charles, unlike his blunt sister, tried hard to please. But if he hadn't been Prince of Wales, he would have been ignored. Growing up with people bowing and curtsying and walking backward in front of him made him arrogant and haughty, but still he managed to maintain a certain earnestness that made him likable. He dressed in custom-made suits, starched shirts, gold cuff links, and silk ties; his shoes shone like mirrors. Like his great-uncle the Duke of Windsor, he was known for his sartorial splendor. Fastidious about how he looked, especially in uniform, Charles patted himself down before making public appearances and muttered his checklist: "Spectacles, t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, wallet, and watch." Amused by the ritual, British Amba.s.sador Nicholas Henderson said, "I gather this is part of the royal routine, at any rate for male royals."

Although Charles looked elegant and acted polished, he was ill at ease. He frequently twisted the gold signet ring bearing the three plumes of the Prince of Wales that he wore on the little finger of his left hand.

"I think it was the ears," mused a former courtier to the Queen. "He never outgrew those unfortunate ears. A shame, really...." He said that the Prince's protruding ears became a source of amus.e.m.e.nt within the royal family, and he was teased constantly, which made him quite self-conscious. Princess Margaret urged her sister to let Charles undergo plastic surgery, but the Queen resisted. When Margaret's son, David, was three years old, she saw that he, too, was developing what she called "the Windsor flappers." So she sent him to a plastic surgeon at Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children to have his ears pinned back.

Mountbatten continually badgered the Queen and Prince Philip about getting their son's ears fixed, but they did nothing, so Mountbatten urged Charles to ask his parents about plastic surgery. "You can't possibly be King with ears like that," he said. The late photographer Norman Parkinson was so dismayed by the Prince's ears that during a sitting for a formal portrait, he pinned them back with double-sided sticky tape.

"Charles is not a common swashbuckler like his father," continued the courtier. "He's kind, sweet, but unsure of himself. Yes, I'd say it was the jug ears more than anything. It certainly wasn't parental neglect... at least on the part of the Queen."

The former courtier staunchly defends his monarch as a mother while struggling to answer the question of how Charles grew up.

"His Royal Highness was a tentative little boy. Correct, well mannered, but rather timid like Her Majesty," said the courtier. "He was uncertain on a horse. His sister, who shared a similar upbringing, was bold and rambunctious, like her father.... She should have been the boy, and Charles the girl."

"I was asked in Australia whether I concentrated on developing or improving my image-as if I was some kind of washing powder, presumably with a special blue whitener," Charles told reporters. He tried to be offhand and humorous but came across as clumsy. "I daresay that I could improve my image in some circles by growing my hair to a more fashionable length, being seen in the Playboy Club at frequent intervals, and squeezing myself into excruciatingly tight clothes.... I have absolutely no idea what my image is, and therefore I intend to go on being myself to the best of my ability."

Reporters peppered the Prince with questions about what kind of woman he would make his Queen. They referred to his various girlfriends-slim, long legged, and usually blond-as "Charlie's angels," reporting that the world's most eligible bachelor sought safety in numbers. Charles admitted that he was afraid of marriage because he was not permitted to make a mistake. "Divorce is out of the question for someone like me," he said. "In my position, the last thing I could possibly entertain is getting divorced. Therefore, one's decision must be that much more careful."

Mountbatten had recommended a pragmatic approach to marriage that Charles now parroted back to the press. "If I'm deciding on whom I want to live with for fifty years-well, that's the last decision I want my head to be ruled by my heart," he said. "I think an awful lot of people have got the wrong idea of what marriage is all about. It is rather more than just falling madly in love with someone and having a love affair for the rest of your married life."