The Scottish Mail on Sunday

This really does feel like a deadly threat to the Monarchy... ...but I’ll tell you a Diana story that shows how it can survive

- By PATRICK JEPHSON EQUERRY AND PRIVATE SECRETARY TO THE PRINCESS OF WALES 1988-96 The Mail on Sunday

THE Monarchy needs rescuing. How are they going to heal the wounds, repair the damage, stop further attacks? And who are ‘they’, anyway? The depleted Royal Family, the besieged courtiers, the Government, the Church... the BBC?

And what is next for Harry and Meghan?

All urgent questions. But first, some background. When I arrived at Buckingham Palace to be interviewe­d as a new equerry to Princess Diana some 30 years ago (initially on a two-year secondment from the Royal Navy), I imagined I was entering a world of perfection. One in which happy and glorious Royal people devoted their lives to the service of loyal subjects in realms and territorie­s all over the world, served in turn by effortless­ly sophistica­ted courtiers who kept the machinery of constituti­onal monarchy purring along like a Rolls-Royce.

As we now know, that world was about to enter a prolonged period of self-harm, including the failure of three Royal marriages, the Windsor Castle fire, and countless calamities from It’s A Royal Knockout to the Camilla-gate tape, Panorama and Epstein.

Today, the self-destructiv­e cycle is back in full force, with the daily escalation of Sussex laceration­s now tearing into the heart of the Monarchy, with accusation­s of negligence, callousnes­s, deceit and – most grievous of all – entrenched racism. This time it’s going to take more than just Keep Calm And Carry On, more than Brian May’s Jubilee guitar solo on the roof of Buckingham Palace, or 007 and the Queen skydiving into the 2012 Olympic Stadium.

With the Windsors’ tender parts now trapped in the mangle of American domestic politics, transatlan­tic and Commonweal­th relations under strain, and cancel culture spreading like wildfire through British public life, this Royal crisis more than any other really feels like a deadly threat to our most precious institutio­n.

Of course, with every crisis comes opportunit­y. In this case, the rescue and the opportunit­y may come from an unexpected direction. As so often with the Windsors, there’s a clue in the past.

Let me share an incident that happened soon after I joined the Royal Household. As I said, I thought this was an organisati­on that didn’t make mistakes; it certainly didn’t admit to any, as far as I could see.

Yet, inevitably, I definitely did slip up one day. Nothing very major but I sensed my all-hearing boss would get to know about it eventually and then I could expect to be in serious trouble – not for the original offence but for having tried to conceal it.

So, screwing up my courage, I went to see her. She was busy at her desk, working on papers.

‘Yes, Patrick,’ she said, without raising her eyes.

‘Ma’am, I have to tell you I’ve made a mistake.’ Her eyes now flashed icy blue in my direction. ‘You’ve what?’

I struggled on. ‘It’s a small mistake and I’ve fixed it. But I wanted you to hear about it from me.’

I explained the details and then braced for execution, or at least a painful rebuke. But instead, I saw her eyes soften.

‘D’you know Patrick, that’s the first time I’ve heard anybody in this place admit making a mistake.’

The novelty (and her good nature) quickly led to forgivenes­s. My gamble had paid off. Diana showed me compassion and seemed to quite enjoy the experience.

More importantl­y, she would now trust me to confess my sins and I could expect her to absolve me (usually). After all, to forgive is a sign of divinity – never a bad quality in a princess.

This little incident formed the bedrock of a trust that sustained our working relationsh­ip, past my initial equerry appointmen­t and through the next six years as her private secretary – a trust only eventually broken by the bad faith of Martin Bashir’s Panorama interview.

SPEAKING to Oprah Winfrey in last week’s TV interview, Prince Harry identified the underlying cause of the problem he and Meghan had felt compelled to bring to the world’s attention. It was, he said, ‘a lack of support and a lack of understand­ing’.

Pretty basic human needs, you might think, especially for a couple exposed to relentless media scrutiny almost since the day they met.

Yet we are assured that the establishm­ent deployed its finest and most sympatheti­c courtiers to ease the Sussexes through their difficult early years on the Royal stage.

Now the case for the protection of endangered courtiers is getting much air-play and that’s before the investigat­ion into alleged bullying by Meghan gets down to business.

I wonder if any of Harry and Meghan’s staff ever went to them and confessed to a mistake – and if they did, what reaction they got. Did the Sussexes run a happy ship – a safe space where misjudgmen­ts and oversights could be freely admitted and constructi­ve action taken to improve overall performanc­e, to everybody’s benefit?

Or was Team Sussex a place where the old myth of Royal

Was Team Sussex a place where Royal perfection had to be observed

The Windsors’ tender parts are trapped in a mangle of US politics

perfection had to be observed 24/7, whatever the cost in staff unhappines­s and, ultimately, turnover?

It seems only reasonable that if you want to receive understand­ing and support you have to be ready to give it, too.

It’s in that collaborat­ive atmosphere that Royal employer and humble employee can practise the small daily acts of forgivenes­s that keep things ticking along even in times of stress.

The warm, fuzzy theory of compassion becomes practical reality in little habits of reconcilia­tion, all without leaving the office.

But who deserves compassion most, who should give and who receive? Think of Meghan’s account of lonely days in Frogmore Cottage, gripped by depression, even to the point of wishing for death.

Searching desperatel­y for help in the bewilderin­g landscape of Royal life, driven, eventually, to call on the Palace staff human resources office for some kind of recognitio­n of her plight.

Where was the rescue for Meghan when she needed it?

It’s a story that would melt the hardest heart. Who, behind those high Palace walls, did she tell it to? Her brother-in-law or father-in-law, from whom Harry says he is now estranged? Her sister-in-law? Or perhaps that elite team of handpicked courtiers assigned to make her life smooth and happy?

Perhaps to her obstetrici­an, or even to the smiley priest who officiated at her wedding, the Archbishop of Canterbury no less?

What about the battalion of household clerics whose duties, one might expect, prioritise the pastoral care of their unusually privileged but often troubled Royal flock?

We don’t know. But we do know – because Harry has told us – that support and understand­ing were in such short supply that the new parents and their baby had no option but to flee for the sake of their sanity, if not for their very lives.

Now, a short year later, they’re to be found in the California sunshine doing what looks like their damnedest to lay waste the institutio­n that is Harry’s (and Archie’s) birth right, and skewer the not-such

good and faithful servants they deem to have failed them.

Harry’s parents gave Oprah-style interviews in which they spilled their guts in hopes of wheedling sympathy out of a goggling TV audience. So did Aunt Fergie and so, most recently, did Uncle Andrew. A moment’s research would have revealed that all those exercises in self-serving, selective truth-telling caused far more harm than good.

They failed mainly because they left out any gesture of conciliati­on and recognised precious little share of blame.

It’s sad, really. I suspect Harry and Meghan may live to regret the missed opportunit­y publicly to reconcile with relatives, especially those so advanced in years, in both families. Even the thoroughly ‘othered’ Wallis Simpson, to whom

Meghan is often compared, was eventually welcomed back to Buckingham Palace after years of exile, but then only to attend her husband’s funeral.

Harry cites a lack of understand­ing as half the reason why he and Meghan left, so he might welcome one definition of compassion as being ‘the understand­ing of lack of understand­ing’.

The Sussexes have committed themselves to ‘one act of compassion at a time’. So here perhaps we find the answer to both questions – how to rescue the Monarchy and what’s next for Harry and Meghan. With compassion comes forgivenes­s and reconcilia­tion – get that right, and the all-important understand­ing and support will take care of themselves. Or, as baby Archie’s old friend Archbishop Desmond Tutu put it: ‘Without forgivenes­s there is no future.’

 ??  ?? two-way relationsh­ip: Princess Diana with Patrick Jephson at the Burghley Horse Trials in 1989
two-way relationsh­ip: Princess Diana with Patrick Jephson at the Burghley Horse Trials in 1989

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