The Royals Read online

  THE ROYALS

  KITTY KELLEY

  NEW YORK BOSTON

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  To my husband John, who makes dreams come true.

  “… Once in a while a family has to surrender itself to an outsider’s account. A family can get buried in its own fairy dust, and this leads straight, in my opinion, to the unpacking of lies and fictions from its piddly shared scraps of inbred history….”

  From The Stone Diaries

  by Carol Shields

  “I believe in aristocracy though, if that is the right word and if a democrat may use it. Not an aristocracy of power based upon rank and influence, but an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate and the plucky. Its members are to be found in all nations and classes and all through the ages and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet. They represent the true human tradition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos.”

  From a 1941 essay by

  E. M. Forster

  Author’s Note

  February 13, 1997

  If a cat may look on a king, as the English proverb goes, so can a Kitty. The ancient king had been succeeded by a modern queen by the time I started to take my look. So I wrote to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II as a matter of courtesy and said I was researching a book on the House of Windsor. I respectfully requested an interview, but her press secretary replied that the Queen does not grant interviews.

  “Our policy,” Charles Anson wrote on Buckingham Palace stationery, “is to try to help bona fide authors writing serious books on the Monarchy and the Royal Family with factual information on matters of public interest. I shall, therefore, be happy to do this for you if you can first give me some indication of the theme of your book and the specific areas in which you would like to put questions to me.”

  He asked me to submit an outline. “Naturally, I would treat this in complete confidence,” he wrote. This puzzled me. Did he mean that he wouldn’t show the outline to anyone, including the Queen and the rest of the royal family? Or was he going to keep it from the British press, which had been reporting (incorrectly) that I was writing a biography of the Queen’s husband, Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh?

  Already the Duke was getting agitated about the prospect of someone writing a book about him that he had not authorized. In 1994, according to British reporters traveling with him, he threatened to sue me. While visiting New York, he was asked about “the book that Kitty Kelley is writing,” and he was quoted as saying, “I will protect my good name.” His pronouncement caused a stir in the British press. “Never before has a member of the royal family personally issued such a blunt warning,” wrote Chris Hutchins in Today. “Prince Philip says he is prepared to sue and Buckingham Palace lawyers are already ‘on full alert.’ ” The Daily Star reported the exchange as “Prince’s Threat over Kitty Shocker: I Will Sue If Your Book’s Too Saucy.”

  The stories prompted numerous calls to my office in Washington, D.C., from men and women claiming to be the illegitimate offspring of royalty. From Argentina, Australia, England, Wales, and New York, people called to tell me of their royal parentage. They volunteered to send photos of themselves, extracts from family diaries, and letters from distant relatives to substantiate their claim, but none produced a birth certificate. Yet even without authentic documentation, they remained convinced that they had been sired outside of marriage by a member of the British royal family.

  When I wrote back to the Queen’s press secretary, I told him that I wanted to interview as many people as possible who could speak with authority on the House of Windsor. As an American writing for an international audience, I asked the Queen’s press secretary to help me develop an accurate record on a subject of intense public interest. Many books have been written about the Windsors, but most contradict one another. Eminent historians differ on basic details. Few agree on anything except how the family spells its name.

  Since I was still in the process of acquiring information, I explained that the form of the book was dictated by chronology, from 1917, when the royal family was renamed, to the present day. Instead of an outline, I submitted two pages of questions about marriages, finances, and knighthoods. In response, Mr. Anson sent me a 632-page book entitled The Royal Encyclopedia.

  We exchanged more letters as I traveled back and forth between Washington, D.C., and London to do research. In 1995 I was in England for the commemoration of V-E Day, May 8—the day in 1945 when the Allies announced the surrender of German forces in Europe. Again I contacted the Palace with more questions and renewed my request for interviews. On this visit I spoke with Mr. Anson on the phone.

  We discussed the stirring ceremonies that had been staged to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of victory over Nazi Germany. We talked about the moving scene of the previous day, when the ninety-five-year-old Queen Mother stepped onto the balcony of Buckingham Palace to wave to the fifty thousand people assembled below. Fifty years earlier she had stood in the same place to accept the tribute of a grateful nation. Then, as now, she was flanked by her two daughters. But missing from the historical tableau in 1995 were her husband, King George VI, and his Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, both of whom had stood beside her in 1945. Still, the sight of her on the balcony reminded everyone of Britain’s indomitable spirit during the war.

  “These sorts of occasions,” the Queen’s press secretary told me, “are very unifying for the country…. They show that the monarchy is an arrangement that suits the British people….”

  After I returned to Washington, D.C., to begin writing the book, Mr. Anson did not answer any more questions. He seemed concerned that I might be misinterpreting his cooperation so I could market my book as an authorized biography. He need not have worried. But he conveyed his anxiety to a reporter from the royal family’s favorite newspaper, the Daily Telegraph, which headlined its story “Palace Alarm over U.S. Book on the Queen.”

  The Palace press secretary was quoted in the story as saying: “Ms. Kelley has not been given any special cooperation, nor will she be. We have answered one or two factual questions put to us, as we do with any author writing on the royal household. This does not denote any special access.”

  Days later I received my last letter from Charles Anson. “I should emphasise at this point,” he wrote, “that if the limited help we have given is misrepresented in any way in future, we will consider taking appropriate action.“ This, too, was reported in the British press. The Guardian’s story—“Action Stations at the Palace”—ran under a cartoon of two corgis guarding the Buckingham Palace kennels. With bared teeth, one dog growled: “Kitty! Grrrr… Even the name makes me angry.”

  Despite the well-publicized warning from the Queen’s press secretary, I have been able to interview several hundred people over the last four years, many of whom are current or former members of the royal household. Because I never pay for information, I gave no one money, but I did guarantee confidentiality to those who feared retaliation from the Palace. Most members of the royal household sign confidentiality agreements when they are hired, so I knew they took great risks in speaking to me. If identified, those in royal service could lose their jobs; those retired could lose their pensions. Charles Anson had made the point in one of his earlier letters to me: “We take very seriously here any breach of confidentiality or of the undertakings given, for example, by employees of the Royal Household concerning their employment with the Royal Family.”

  Yet with the unattributed help of many people, including past and present employees, friends, and relatives, I was able to get an inside look at the British royal family and how they live. I started at Kensington Palace, a few mile
s from Buckingham Palace in the heart of London.

  During a time when Princess Margaret was traveling abroad, a member of her staff, whom I already knew, offered me a personal tour of her living quarters. I accepted gratefully because I had never been inside a palace. When I showed up at the front gates, I was surprised to be waved through by cheerful security guards. They did not ask my name or question my purpose, probably because I was greeted by someone familiar to them.

  We began with the apartments known as Grace-and-Favor Residences, which are given to select employees by the sovereign. Some of these small apartments looked like monk’s cells. They’re clean but cramped, with just enough room for the essentials—bed, chair, couch, table. In some, the space is so limited that the private toilet is across the hall from the bathtub. But, as one appreciative employee pointed out, “They are rent-free.”

  When we walked into the residence of HRH the Princess Margaret, I gawked in disbelief; because I was standing in the home of the sister of the wealthiest woman in the world, I had probably anticipated something grander, more imposing. I half expected diamond-studded walls and floors inlaid with rubies. Instead I saw plastic flowers arranged in vases on the windowsills and in the fireplace an electric heater with a badly frayed cord. A collapsible aluminum tray was stashed behind the door of the drawing room. I was told that it was placed in front of the television set when the Princess dined alone. Two large blackamoor statues guarded the entrance to the vivid blue room, where she displayed her vast collection of loving cups, crystal goblets, and pitchers. Lining the walls were porcelain plates and dishes embellished with great globs of gold. On a mahogany dumbwaiter by her desk, she had placed a collection of tiny porcelain boxes. One, circa 1800, carried an inscription: “May the King Live to Reward the Subject Who Would Die for Him.”

  My guide showed me through the rooms of the palace and patiently answered my questions about the royal family—the Queen, the Queen Mother, the Duke of Edinburgh, Princess Margaret, Princess Anne, Princes Andrew and Edward, and the Prince and Princess of Wales. When I asked about Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York, I was told curtly, “She’s not royalty.” I gazed at the portraits and photographs, including the framed picture of Princess Margaret and her former husband, Antony Armstrong-Jones, at a White House dinner with President and Mrs. Lyndon Johnson. The photo, signed by the Johnsons, hangs in the bathroom.

  The path from Kensington Palace to Buckingham Palace beckoned intriguingly as my research into the House of Windsor led me up and down the class system. Downstairs I interviewed footmen. Upstairs I conversed with courtiers. I listened to members of the House of Lords and House of Commons. I interviewed Tory and Labor Members of Parliament about the dominating influence of the monarchy.

  At a meeting of women that I attended, actress Glenda Jackson, a Labor MP, said, “My constituents are angry about where their country is going, but you would never know their concerns from the press coverage, which is obsessed with royalty.” The Tory MP Rupert Allason, who writes spy novels under the name of Nigel West, wrote to me about his high regard for the monarchy. “I am rather old fashioned about the Royals. Some of it may be unattractive but it serves the country well and… [it]… is regarded over here as a cherished if anachronistic institution.”

  Jacob, Lord Rothschild was more mischievous. Over dinner at the River Cafe in London, he mentioned he had dined recently at Buckingham Palace. “You are never supposed to say if you dine at the Palace. But what’s the fun of knowing the royals,” he said with a wink, “if you can’t talk about them?”

  His wife tried to shush him. She shook her finger at me for taking notes. “You must not write a book,” said Lady Rothschild. “We have to protect our royal family from themselves…. We don’t need a book by an objective American. You’re not supposed to be objective about royalty.”

  My research also included tea with titled ladies married to gentlemen with a string of initials after their names. These abbreviations indicate the honors they’ve received from the Crown. In their country manors, I saw the ermine-edged robes they wore to the coronation and the little gold chairs they sat on during the ceremony in Westminster Abbey. Many had known the Queen since childhood. She attended their weddings and wrote them “Dear Cousin” letters. “In this circle,” explained one aristocrat, “everyone is considered a relation.” (Even with the help of Debrett’s Peerage, the bible of the nobility, I stumbled on the intricacies of British social precedence. More than once I fumbled a title or jumbled initials in addressing a letter, but my gaffes were graciously forgiven. “You’re an American, dear,” said one Countess. “You cannot be expected to know.”) Royalists all, these aristocrats believe firmly in the Crown and maintain that the monarchy will survive as long as the White Cliffs of Dover. I’m grateful to all of them for their time and consideration.

  Their insights contrasted sharply with those of republicans I interviewed. They believe the days of the monarchy are, or should be, numbered. Escorted by the writer Anthony Holden, I attended a meeting of the Common Sense Club in London, where British writers, editors, and scholars consider proposals for dismantling the monarchy, including a written constitution for the country that would terminate the House of Lords and separate church from state. The Common Sense Club takes its name from the pamphlet Thomas Paine wrote in 1776, urging a declaration of independence. The son of a Quaker corset maker, he was arrested, convicted of treason, and outlawed from England. His revolutionary spirit still inspires Mr. Holden and his republican colleagues, who combine immense charm and wit with their politics. I enjoyed my time with them and appreciate their efforts to educate me.

  Marc Pachter, Counselor for Special Projects to the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, has conducted monthly seminars for the Washington Biography Group, which I attend for his wise advice. He believes that biography is a life lived and observed from the outside peering in. He tells us, “Write with your nose pressed to the window.” So I have tried.

  For expertise on British royalty, I turned to several social historians who lecture at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. Particularly enchanting were Virginia W. Newmyer; Stanley Weintraub, Evan Pugh Professor of Arts and Humanities, Pennsylvania State University; Edward Keefer, U.S. Department of State; Marlene Eilers; Roland Flamini, formerly diplomatic correspondent, Time magazine; Catherine A. Cline, professor of history, Catholic University; David Cannadine, professor of history, Columbia University.

  For answers to my historical queries, I’m indebted to several librarians: Eugene Weber, manager of the Press Association of the United Kingdom, and his helpful staff: Adrian McLeay, Richard Peacock, and Katarina Shelley; Linda Amster, New York Times; Paul Hamburg, Simon Wiesenthal Center; Garner Shaw, the New York Observer; Gwen Odum, Palm Beach Daily News; Steve Glatter, Miami-Dade Public Library; Don Osterweil, Vanity Fair; Jeanette Brown, USA Today; Merle Thomason, Fairchild publications; Paul Cornish and Janet Bacon, British Information Service; Lisa Brody, American Film Institute; Terri Natale, New Statesman; Charles Seaton, the Spectator; Rodney Smith, New Orleans Public Library; Polly Townsend, Desmond-Fish Library, Garrison, New York; Janet Lorenz, National Film Information Service of the Center for Motion Picture Study, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences; Margaret O’Sullivan, Putnam County [New York] News and Recorder; Patrick Wagner, Smithsonian Residents Program; the reference librarians at the Alexandria, Arlington, and Fairfax, Virginia, Public Libraries; the Washingtoniana Room of the Martin Luther King Library in Washington, D.C.; the Foundation Center Library in Washington, D.C

  For documents and records on the British royal family, I’m grateful to the British Naval Office; the Office of Population Censuses and Surveys, St. Catherine’s House, London; and the presidential archivists and researchers at the libraries of Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry S Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard M. Nixon, Gerald R. Ford, Jimmy Carter, and Ronald W. Reagan; the National Archives and the Library of Congress in Washin
gton, D.C.; the State of New York Department of Law; the Freedom of Information Act Offices at the Department of State, Department of Justice, including Federal Bureau of Information, Department of Defense, and Central Intelligence Agency. Reaves West did commendable research at the British Library in London. For advice on protocol, I turned to Jean P. Inman, American Embassy, London, and appreciate the assistance of the staffs at the British Embassy in Washington, D.C., and the embassies of Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Canada, and Australia.

  Some people provided information for the book; others provided hospitality for the author. Both are greatly appreciated. I extend thanks to the staff of the Athenaeum Hotel, where James A. Brown, Sally Bulloch, Alex Serra, and Donald Birraine made the first of many research trips to London so enjoyable. I’m particularly indebted to them for introducing me to the President of South Africa, Nelson Mandela, who also was staying at the hotel. The hour I spent with this man was my first and only encounter with nobility.

  Writers become unbearable while writing books and so they owe the deepest thanks to those who will put up with them. My list is long of people who saw me through the ordeal. For the last ten years my research assistant, Melissa Lakey, has brought her bright mind and huge heart to every task she’s been given. Professionally and personally, she’s a treasure. I also value the family she’s extended to me in her mother, Jeannette Smalling, and her brother, Walter Smalling. Her relatives have supported this project with love and patience and I’m indebted to all, especially Ray Rhinehart; Paul, Martha, and Allyson Gibson; Stephen and Margaret Gibson; Roger, Anne, Jeannette, and Rachel Buchholz; Jean, Bill, Mike, Abbey, Doug, Jon, and Gayle Lakey. I’m grateful to Melissa’s husband, Bryan, for his patience with her long hours as she labored to deliver this book before the arrival of their first baby, Drew Edward Lakey.