Looking back on those bizarre days, a conversation between Diana and the queen has particular resonance. The queen explained to her daughter-in-law that the instability in the Waleses’ marriage was an overriding consideration in any musings she might have about abdicating the throne in favor of Charles. With Diana’s death, such reasons are no longer relevant. At the same time, the question of succession is now more sharply debated than ever. Though the idea of allowing the crown to go directly to Prince William is unlikely to come to pass, the public perception of Charles is critical in retaining respect and reverence for the institution of the crown. And so the coming years may be the prince’s most trying–which, considering his miserable marriage and divorce, is saying quite a bit.
The Prince of Wales actually began his divorced life on an optimistic note. In 1997, Charles felt bold enough to host a 50th-birthday party for Camilla Parker Bowles at Highgrove. It was clear that the nation was to be gently introduced to the thought of Charles and Camilla rather than that of Charles and Diana. A speech here, a public engagement there: this seemed to be the thinking behind a long-term PR offensive intended to reinvent Charles. But it didn’t really wash then, and it certainly doesn’t after Diana’s death. Her passing canonized her in the popular imagination–the same imagination that has cast Charles in the role of sinner. Indeed, as he stands before the court of public opinion, the prosecution can summon a formidable array of witnesses to testify against him.
First to be called is Diana. She had little faith in her husband’s fitness to be king. When I interviewed her, she talked of Charles going off with Camilla to farm in Italy, leaving her to guide William toward his destiny as sovereign. Just a few weeks before her death, she confided to friends that Charles was a ““follower, not a leader.''
Then there are–perhaps surprisingly–the loyal supporters of the queen and the old order who will never forgive Charles for publicly blaming his father for forcing him to marry a woman he did not love. ““When he said that, I washed my hands of him for good,’’ a very senior former courtier told me recently. Then there is, in a way, Charles himself. In the winter of 1995 the queen wrote to the Waleses asking them to divorce for the sake of the monarchy. Once again Charles was exposed as a troubled man whose destiny lay in the hands of others.
Here, then, is the paradox that goes to the heart of Charles’s existence. His life has been governed by duty, by the knowledge that one day he will be king. This sense of obligation has been both a curse and a blessing. He fulfilled his duty to his parents and his country by marrying a proper virgin even though he loved another with a passion that has led to personal anguish.
But the qualities that wrecked his personal life have made him arguably the best-prepared monarch-in-waiting in British history. Questing and serious-minded, his sense of public service means that Britain has a future king with a refined and defined philosophy, a vision built on ideals of stewardship and citizenship. His application of these convictions to architecture, the environment and agriculture has earned him acclaim from many quarters. His enthusiastic compact with Tony Blair, particularly regarding youth unemployment, shows a man at ease in the cockpit of power. And his active participation in the ““Way Ahead Group,’’ a collection of members of the royal family and senior courtiers who meet to chart the future of the monarchy, is a further sign of a man ready to assume authority.
Yet the question for Charles is whether he can ever really escape the shadows of his life with Diana. In 1994 a 150-minute TV documentary on his life revealed a man tirelessly working on behalf of the people who will one day be his subjects. Yet the program is remembered only for one short sentence: that he returned to his mistress after his marriage had ““irretrievably broken down.''
In time, the media might rebuild the image of a caring Charles. Yet while the tide in the press will ebb and flow, the prince will have more trouble winning over the broad public–those men and women who tearfully left acres of flowers on the streets of London. For it is one of the sad features of British life that the mass media do not truly represent the masses; all too often the press reflects establishment thinking but fails to connect with the mainstream.
There is no escaping the unyielding irony that if the monarchy’s remaining role is to unite society, Charles’s accession will divide the public. His only defense lies in the passage of years. Only time and distance will enable the nation and the prince to renew their mystical contract. Until then even his most ardent supporters–and indeed Charles himself–should sing out: ““Long live the queen.''
