The Prince’s most deadly sin appears to have been his breaking of the code of omertà in talking about his private feelings
“Now Harry twists the knife” ran the headline on one of the multitude of newspapers I do not read. The spat between the two Royal princes thrills the headline writers and has catapulted some unlikely figures from their Parker Knoll recliners. But does it amount to more than that? Certainly, it has brought forth an unlikely number of would-be assassins of the young Prince, who say they are just waiting for the say-so from the Palace.
The Prince’s most deadly sin appears to have been his breaking of the code of omertà in talking about his private feelings. This is irritating, but hardly important. Personally, I wish he would just shut up and get on with his life as a terrifically privileged young person. That that is not to be is allegedly because there are said to be “constitutional implications”.
This is rubbish. There are no constitutional implications at all, just a series of moans from a very privileged young man who now says he found the role of “spare” irksome. There is only one thing to say to that: “Grow up!”
The terrible problem for the British is that those who most closely follow the doings and sayings of the Royal family are the least competent to speculate about their significance. They are a most excitable bunch, when what is really needed is a person who will, in Willie Whitelaw’s memorable words, wander about the country “stirring up apathy”.
Instead, some have become so hot under the collar that they have gone back to the 12th century historian William of Malmesbury, in case there is anything to be learnt from the death of William Rufus on the hunting field. The only relevance seems to have been that he too had been christened William and was also an elder brother.
Harry’s issues – the chipped dog bowl, broken necklace and so on – belong in a soap opera. Don’t get me wrong – there’s a lot to be said for soap operas, the best of which hold up a mirror to life. The tensions between the two brothers are instantly recognisable. In my own family, we were three brothers and hardly a day went by without our mother or someone having to take one of us to casualty.
Most emphatically, I am not saying I don’t believe him, for I do. Even the selfish moans of our King sound authentic.
But the strength of the monarchical system is that it is instantly intelligible to those who live under it simply because we all grow up in families and understand that each contains different individuals who are intelligent, dim, sports-mad or DIY enthusiasts.
Everyone can understand why King Charles will not be Queen Elizabeth II. Whereas no one can quite understand how Donald Trump became president.
It is not as if the system has not evolved since the Battle of Bosworth Field could deliver up two young princes to the Tower.
It hardly bears comparison with the circumstances under which the 19-year-old Bertie (later Edward VII) surrendered his virginity to the “actress” Nellie Clifden while attending a British Army camp on the Curragh in Ireland. Victoria blamed Bertie for bringing back from Ireland the typhoid that killed her beloved husband, Albert. Given the passion that existed between Victoria and Albert, this is surely a more relevant example. But it did not stop Bertie becoming king, and ruling as Edward VII.
It is 25 years – a generation – since William and Harry’s mother, Princess Diana, was killed in that horrific Paris car accident. There were plenty of people speculating then that the monarchy could not survive the death. (There were even absurdly stupid voices crying for the Royal Standard to be flown at half-mast above Buckingham Palace.)
It is more than 30 years since Prince Edward’s folly in It’s a Royal Knockout! which was also said to create a constitutional crisis. The institution survived, as it will flourish after this airing of dirty linen. Even the most fetishistically “modern” of prime ministers (Tony Blair) found that belief in monarchy was hard-wired into the sort of people we are. Others will make the same discovery.
There is, should we care to appreciate it, a lesson in all this; that those who carry within them the spores of an ancient system cannot choose which spores to retain and which to discard. If you enjoy the baubles and uniforms, the patronages and the honorary colonelcies, the introductions to very minor celebs, the automatic deference, you must understand that a price has to be paid for them.
Once the dust has settled we shall all see this panto, complete with its attendant bits of interview, for what it is: the anguished exclamation of a not terribly bright young man who got the wrong end of a not very clean stick.