Royal Family – The Book of the Duchess

OPINION

THE HOUSE OF WINDSOR

Catherine’s September Message and Her Video,

the “Midsummer Night’s Dream” in Norfolk

Late notes on the margins

By Elena Vassilieva

On Monday, September 9, 2024, at tea time, Greenwich Mean Time, Catherine, the earnest wife of Windsor, sent a long-awaited message to the world. Although her supporters had the pleasure of seeing her at Wimbledon this past summer, they didn’t think they would hear from her again that soon. On July 14, 2024, to everyone’s delight, she radiated joy and freshness, smiling and waving to the Wimbledon crowd which in turn greeted her with standing ovations. Her purple tailored dress flattered her sporty figure, and she seemed to have gained weight, but that was only to her advantage. Her long chestnut locks framed her tanned face in her usual fashion. So, when, in September, her lengthy message arrived, it was expected that she would be as fit as in July, and she didn’t disappoint.

Catherine’s recent message on Twitter/X was accompanied by a three-minute video which came as a great surprise and, to some, as a bit of a shock. The good news was: she had just finished her chemotherapy and from now on planned to stay focused on being cancer-free. It was not quite clear whether she got rid of cancer altogether. But the ambiguity around it had been there from the very start. In March, she announced in her first video that she had cancer, yet, the chemotherapy was preventive, she said. Now, in most languages, the word ‘preventive’ is used in the context when something dangerous is still not there, but there is a risk that it might come unless some preventive measures are taken. So, let’s hope that was exactly the case.

Her March video message was filmed in the sunny garden at their Windsor home. She was sitting there alone, on the bench, with chirping birds and blooming flowers in the background. Life in her garden went on as usual, according to the rhythm of springtime. Her pale and makeup-free face betrayed wistfulness, and her casual striped jumper signaled to the viewer that she cared little how she looked and that more serious things were on her mind. The March video struck and saddened everyone. I don’t think there was a single soul who was left untouched. Many thought, myself included, that delivering the sorrowful news directly and by herself was very brave, let alone unprecedented. However, I wondered why she would do that, what for? She could have just followed the usual Royal, ‘never complain, never explain,’ tradition, and that would’ve given her more air to breathe and made her less anxious. The video announcement must have added even more stress to already a very stressful situation, especially because she makes an impression of being an introvert, who is a rather shy public speaker.

The decision to disclose her malady this untypical for the Royal Family way was very likely dictated by her PR team, who may have believed that this tactical move would be an appropriate antidote to the insanity of some vicious cliques on social media, who kept themselves busy circulating falsehoods. Alas, it didn’t stop all the fantastical theories about her which continued to trend on Twitter/X. Therefore, it was her PR team’s huge miscalculation, in my view. They should have known better, but, alas, it seemed like the biblical wisdom, “Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest you be like him yourself,” had escaped their minds completely at that particular moment. Another peculiarity was that she didn’t say what type of cancer she had, while mentioning her preventive chemotherapy treatment. Privacy is everyone’s right, of course, and she stood her ground.

I assumed then, she would give a more detailed account of what has happened to her after she will have finished her treatment, otherwise her disclosure about the illness would make no sense at all, not on a large scale, anyway, other than to satisfy public curiosity about her whereabouts for one minute and to give the bloodthirsty hyenas on social media more food for speculation and fabrication, which should be of no importance to her at all. But having a social media platform with millions of followers from around the globe, and since this, however agonizing, circumstance presented itself, she shouldn’t shy away from it, as this is about the most significant and far-reaching public service she could ever do. Her first-hand experience and her insights would be invaluable to all other sufferers who look for hope and moral support.

Considering this, even her main project about the importance of early years of childhood appears to be rather redundant, especially if one takes into account the material side of her own personal circumstances. Growing up in a sufficiently well-off middle-class family, and, unlike Princess Diana, not working a day in a kindergarten or any other child care facility, and marrying into one of the most prominent families on Earth who can afford a nanny or two and who can invest into their children par excellence, all this makes her very poorly qualified for propagating the idea of a happy childhood for every child. In its hypocrisy, it is malodorous at best and no more than a hollow sound whose only purpose is a glossy presentation. Had she run an experimental school for poor children, the way Count Leo Tolstoy did for all the peasant children on his estate at Yasnaya Polyana, for instance, where she, like Count Tolstoy, would implement all her ideas about happy childhood, it would be different and it would be more than just words. Right now, her project might resonate with the upper echelons of the middle class and well-to-do aristocracy, who traditionally send their children to boarding schools and not rarely leave their offspring scarred for life with this, just read Earl Spencer’s recent memoirs about his harrowing childhood experience. However, ordinary people wouldn’t buy into a single word of the emptiness of her message unless it is solidly grounded. Shortly after she launched her campaign on January 30, 2023, at the BAFTA, in London, she published her op-ed article on the subject in the Financial Times, in March of 2023. I had to read it at least three times in order to fully comprehend the message, and I was still left guessing what it was all about.

Despite the good news that her chemotherapy dark days are behind her, Catherine’s message didn’t contain a single word as for what type of cancer she was fighting and what remedies she used. It must have been very disappointing to all the cancer fighters who have been following her and who have hoped to hear something more concrete for themselves than just the abstract “to love and being loved” and “I remain with you, side by side, hand in hand. Out of darkness, can come light, so let that light shine bright.” Although doubtless good words, those are not enough to win the battle. After people had watched the video, bewilderment was added to their disappointment. With the accent of the pU(r)fect pU(r)son (perfect person), she read her message with care and labor of the Matron of Great Britain, as if her only mission had been to dress all the words into her posh-accented pronunciation, as if it mattered much to cancer sufferers. While she read it, a pleasant music was playing in the background, and one was offered a rare glimpse into an absolute euphoria of the Waleses’ private life in the countryside, or shall I rather say, an idyll? Their jolly children provided the loveliness of the captured moments, but, oddly enough, they weren’t the pièce de résistance. The camera focused on Catherine instead. As if she hadn’t been going through the hardship all this time, she appeared in the movie as a fresh-looking and dazzling star, with her ever infectious laughter and her gorgeous hair flowing in the wind. If only everyone came out of the woods, I dare use her own words, as rejuvenated as she did.

The euphoria that may have overpowered her after, I assume, a successful treatment and nine strenuous and hardest months of her life, is perfectly understandable and justifiable, but nevertheless if one views it in the context of her job as a princess whose main and primary purpose is public service and whose husband’s motto, Ich dien, implies the same meaning, the movie is somewhat bold and transgressive, given all the intimacies thrown into the public eye. And, à propos, the Prince of Wales’ Ich dien should also be considered in the context of the Royal hierarchy, which goes as following in this case: Their Majesties the King and the Queen Consort (thank goodness, they didn’t take part in the movie, either turning down the roles or not being invited), the state and the public, and only then his immediate family and his in-laws who played an important role in the film and, undoubtedly, in the process of Catherine’s healing. Only Uncle Gary, крикун и хвастун, was missing there, at the game table. The in-laws have no formal role as such within the hierarchy of the Royal Family, unlike his wife, with whom the Prince shares his public service and duties.

By no means, Their Royal Highnesses are obligated by their official duties to open the curtains and make the set of their private life bare, and there is no need in it, in fact, not even when illness strikes. Not for fear of losing the Royal mystique, as some would argue, not at all, but for the simple reason of showing poor manners and being inconsiderate. After all, there are so many out there who also suffer from the same illness, but can’t afford the same care, and, very often, have to be waitlisted. Aside to this sensitive issue, isn’t it deemed rather disrespectful and even rude towards their supporters and well-wishers to display their affection for each other in public in such a way that they appear rather exhibitionistic, making, in turn, their viewers almost voyeuristic? No, no, no, Your Royal Highnesses, we do not need your invitation to your private party, thank you very much. Enjoy yourselves, but please be kind, do not involve us!

I also felt quite sorry for all the Prince of Wales’ admirers who had always flirted with him, that is, with his images on social media. I doubt very much that his fans felt particularly good about seeing their beloved prince in such intimate, nearly erotic, scenes, even if he was there with his wife. The Prince of Wales has been playfully, with lots of affectionate emojis, regarded as ‘handsome’, ‘cute’, ‘adorable’, ‘hot’, ‘sexy,’ etc., in the comments on social media. Of course, he wouldn’t know about it and he wouldn’t care about it, but his PR team would and should. How on earth would they not warn him that it’s not princely, but ungentleman-like to offer something like that to his admirers? Not noble at all and rather cruel, I’d say, neither Princess Diana’s boy nor His Majesty the King’s, but whose then? Mrs. Middleton’s, perhaps? It is being often reported how dearly she has ‘mothered’ him throughout the years (for more details see Robert Jobson and Richard Eden). And why wouldn’t Catherine herself think about his fans, and hers as well, especially when she is using the words ‘with humility’? What does she think humility is? Making their well-wishers jealous and even belittled? Or was she trying to tell her husband’s fans that they’d better not forget that he is a married man before they allow themselves such an impossible frivolity on social media? But who would take their perfectly harmless and lighthearted flirting with their own imagination seriously? I bet not even they themselves, yet, the Prince must have hurt their feelings considerably, shutting down their imagination but also love for him, because Love goes hand in hand with imagination, remember?

Isn’t it in the Royal Family’s best interest to keep their private life well-hidden from their fans, in order not to irritate or hurt them? And the monarchy needs its supporters quite badly, more, in fact, than Royal movies filled with distasteful bourgeois intimacies. I didn’t think there was a threat, other than the illness, to the Waleses’ marriage, did you? And if there were, what might it be? Who would dare to break into the golden cage that is under seven locks? Hardly anyone, unless it is Love, of course, as l’amour force toutes les serrures. Or would either of them dare to escape from the golden cage? I don’t know about Catherine, but I think this Prince of Wales wouldn’t even contemplate the nonsensical idea, as the former ones did dare to break free from the cage, but they didn’t fare very well afterwards. Or is the situation, despite Catherine’s healthy appearance, this dire that they have to hire William Warr to document their relationship for posterity? But, happy with the results, on a whim, they decide to let the public see the film now, so that everyone would sigh and say, weeping: “Oh, poor things, oh, poor sweethearts, how much in love they are! Twenty (more or less?) years together, and they are still such lovebirds, as if they were just married”? Releasing the video now, instead of fifty years later, they did quite a disservice to themselves. Today, it just doesn’t feel authentic and, above all, doesn’t make much sense. One can’t stop wondering: what was the reason for staging it all? Why? Maybe they found inspiration in Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Others on social media thought whoever directed the film had watched quite a bit of “The Gladiator” and “The Twilight Saga.” I haven’t seen those, so I can’t comment on the accuracy of their intertextual relationship.

But it doesn’t matter who or what inspired them, because what matters more is modesty which seems more and more to be missing from the arsenal of virtues and values of this princess. Or maybe she just let all the Royal restraints go away and let the public see her casual Kate Middleton’s side, again? And why not, one cynical voice would say, she is human, after all, isn’t she? Everyone does it, you do it, too, even if only occasionally, don’t be such an insufferable prude, it’s the age of selfies and ‘me-me-mes,’ even in the Royal circles, and sexiness sells better than primness, don’t tell me, you don’t know that. The Royals are free to do whatever they please, especially when the Queen Elizabeth II’s time with her moral compass seems to be an era long gone. Hardly convincing an argument, I would say, because that’s the opposite of what is expected from the Royal Family as guardians of traditional values. They aren’t supposed to follow trends of any kind. How about creating trends? And that depends on the trends.

It is Catherine’s phrase ‘with humility’ that is particularly bothersome, because this Norfolkian idyll and Kate Middleton’s euphoria do come across as a slap in the face for all those who are still going through hell and maybe aren’t seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Modesty, humility, and kind reservation would’ve been more appropriate than the flowing hair that evoked an herbal essence shampoo advertisement in some viewers, let alone the laughing-their-heads-off scene in the movie, the very scene that boldly adorns Their Royal Highnesses’ Twitter/X account now. And I wish I didn’t see that clumsiness in the scene where the Prince of Wales is, in a sort of religious ritual, finding himself on his knees and kissing his wife, as it appears, on the neck (!), with their confused children sitting around. Those are especially tone-deaf and incongruous with the circumstances, but also aesthetically not very eye-pleasing scenes, as this kind of romantic scenery is traditionally reserved for a certain age, say, Romeo and Juliet’s age, shall one wish to go public.

The best thing they could do was making their children the focal point, as they both seem to excel as parents. They would let the viewers feel the love through their children while showing us how much they enjoy parenthood. Had they done it, I would’ve been the first to admire and praise them immensely. To other parents, their parental experience is of greater interest than their intimacy, as there is nothing trickier than to rear a child in these difficult times, whereas the quasi-erotic desire filmed in the dunes is not only superfluous, but also very immodest and, frankly, quite laughable. Love, if it lives in a family or between two people, doesn’t have to be on display at all, as Love can be seen and heard and felt without it. But if it’s not there, nothing, not even a midsummer night’s love potion, and definitely not a movie that advertises a certain lifestyle, would bring it back for one. Had they posted their video on their private social media account, however, I would’ve just said: “Wonderful news! Congratulations to Catherine on completing her treatment successfully! What a cute movie! Great and audacious (!) acting in front of the camera! It’s a true idyll, isn’t it?!” And as a postscriptum I would add: “Hmm, apparently the matrimonial idylls exist in this world, and I thought that all marriages happen in Heaven. In Heaven only.”

Written on September 24, 2024 in the Sky Control Room, on Little Harbor, on Cape Cod.

THE HOUSE OF WINDSOR

Prince Harry And The Golden Dog Bowl

Or in cauda venenum

A fairytale*

By Elena Vassilieva

“The night was well advanced, when he reached his own house, having met no interruption on the way, proud of his well-planned stratagem, elated by success, and flattered by the hope that he had extricated himself by his own energy from all the perils which had of late appeared so dark and difficult to shun. Duri magno sed amore dolores Pollute, Notumque furens quid faemina possit [Virgil].” – Henry William Herbert, the old Etonian, in The Roman Traitor (1846).

Once upon a time, Harry was a dashing British prince. He must have caught Meghan Markle’s eye on May 9, 2013, when the Prince was warmly welcomed by the First Lady, Michelle Obama, at the Mother’s Day tea party, at the White House. One needn’t be present there to feel the pleasant atmosphere and all the waves of fascination for the guest of honour, since all the TV channels seemed to be wrapped in a cloud of giddiness while broadcasting the event. Mrs Obama herself looked very jolly and lovely, clad in a romantic floral dress that matched her mood and hairdo. Enjoying the Prince’s company, the First Lady kindly invited children to the party, and the British Prince didn’t fail to charm them. Harry’s team’s win at the charity polo match, at the Greenwich Polo Club in Connecticut, only added to his success on this week-long visit to America. Prince Harry was also well received at the Russel Senate Office Building. The flock of giggling girls were delighted to be in such close proximity to the prominent guest. In fact, the young ladies were over the moon and, of course, they wanted to take home a souvenir that would mark the occasion. They photographed the Prince, who was sent on the Warrior Games mission to America, from all angles, but they also were eager to take a selfie with Harry. At that precise moment, the Prince had caught my eye as well because he happened to say to the girls, disapprovingly, that he was very much anti-selfie. He believed the quality of selfies was very low, and that one would get much better results if one asked someone for help. Not only was his remark reasonable, I thought, but he also made clear that he wasn’t afraid not to confirm to the fancies of contemporary fashion.

Meanwhile, Meghan Markle, about whose existence the world happily knew nothing, must have desperately wished she were at the tea party and most certainly envied Mrs Obama for being such an elegant First Lady who was to receive the Prince. Moreover, Ms Markle might have produced sigh after sigh after sigh, after all, Harry was out of reach at the time, the Prince was in a relationship with the beautiful and levelheaded Cressida Bonas, with whom the unknown American actress stood no chance to compete. Nonetheless, Prince Harry’s charming and smart manners at the White House inspired Ms Markle and boosted her aspirational power to get what she wanted. Precisely then, she must have started making her plans and tedious preparations for the future. Her notes on logistics would begin with the elementary, such as how to make herself visible to the Prince and how to meet the most eligible bachelor in person, how to present herself to him right after, and, finally and most importantly, how to dazzle him. She pondered what type of woman she would rather be and what she would rather not be for the Prince, dismissing the Duchess of Cambridge as a paragon of virtue resolutely and absolutely, but seriously considering Diana, the Princess of Wales, as a helpful book to study from cover to cover, so she decided. Also, she found in Wallis Simpson’s predatory brazenness an invaluable source of inspiration.

Ms Markle’s own hunting instincts dictated to her that, in the beginning, it would suffice to be perceived simply as American as apple pie: sweet and funny, outgoing and poised, practical and unceremonious, and, like a teenager, flashily in love with her Prince, clinging on to him as if he were about to be grabbed by an invisible other woman, the villain. But she’d better be in good standing, too, with as many good deeds on her resume as possible, even if the deeds would be done in a hurry and one time only, so she thought. Later on, however, she might want to shed the image of the cute and awesome American apple-pie-like woman, replacing it with that of the flamboyant femme fatale, who is capricious and demanding, ambitious and desirous of power and attention to such a degree that she would dare seriously think she could dismantle good old House of Windsor in a trice.

To everyone’s amazement, she showcased her inexhaustible stratagemical energy par excellence, when she had deployed every means available to her to reach the unreachable. She, somehow, connected with the right people who knew the Prince. She arranged an engagement at the UN (there weren’t too many details about it in the Netflix docuseries, just a photo of her at the UN headquarters was shown for a second so that we would know she set foot there to corroborate that instance on her Curriculum Vitae). She also didn’t shy away from less credible enterprises that might have helped her get closer to her goal. Thus, she paid a visit to one wizard who emboldened her by predicting a grand wedding in the near future. It certainly makes one wonder whether the wizard’s job hadn’t ended with his prediction? Perhaps, he did more than that, who knows? Naturally, these are pure speculations of my silly mind, and for now, let us follow the Shakespearean logic of all is well that ends well.

Time will tell sooner or later what really happened. A love potion or not that might or might not have been prepared for the Prince, it shouldn’t matter at all, especially when people genuinely fall in love with each other, one reckons. But one thing that matters is how utterly busy Ms Markle must have kept herself before our Prince came to visit America for the second time, in 2015. President Obama was exuberant to have Harry as a guest of honour in October of 2015, in the Oval Office: “It is a great pleasure to welcome His Royal Highness Prince Harry to the Oval Office. I’ve had an opportunity to spend a lot of time with so many of his family members, but this is the first time we had a chance to talk directly. He has gotten to know Michelle very well, for a range of reasons, but in particular, he’s here to talk about the Invictus Games, an initiative that is bringing together the wounded warriors around the world, under the leadership of Prince Harry and others, to make sure that we see not simply the sacrifices they’ve made, but also the incredible contributions, strength, and courage they continue to display.” (President Obama’s speech is quoted as in the USMagazine, October 28, 2015)

Again, Meghan Markle must have been quite envious of the delightful Mrs Obama who visited the USO Warrior and Family Center at the Fort Belvoir military base in Fairfax County, VA with the Prince and seemed to have had a good rapport with His Royal Highness, as the President himself jokingly noted. During that visit, President Obama and Prince Harry had a private conversation about the 2016 Invictus Games, which were going to be played in America. Ms Markle must have realised precisely then that she ought to act, and fast, because Harry, then single and free as a bird, was publicly expressing his despair and concern whether he was, perhaps, doomed to carry on as an eternal bachelor, as there seemed to be no woman on this planet who would be willing to marry the poor thing. And to order and fetch a bride from another planet had still proved quite difficult, albeit the engineering genius, Elon Musk, had already, no later than since 2012, been sleepless while working on his beloved Spaceship-project. But Harry had no patience at all to walk on this planet as a lonesome bachelor till the day the Spaceship would be built and equipped to make interplanetary bride deliveries. Searching and waiting for the right woman, even for two years, seemed to Harry unbearably long. As it turned out, the Prince had a far more complicated task than Mr Musk. Little wonder that this period of bleak solitude quietly drove poor Prince if not to insanity, then definitely to desperation.

Now, in the circumstances, one would think nearly any woman would appear to a man as sweet and delicious as Turkish delight, no? So when, one day, out of the blue, Ms Markle had landed on Harry’s screen, disguised as a dog (sic! Cave canem!), our Prince couldn’t help but think she was heaven-sent. Despite the disguise, the dog-woman intrigued him at once and took his breath and sleep away. Hence, he didn’t hesitate to ask the friend through whom the dog-woman’s image flew to him: “Who on earth is this?” Not quite extraterrestrial, not at all, but rather appealing in her own trivial and bold way, he reasoned. He already imagined her being the incarnation of the promised bliss, not knowing that later, he would learn firsthand that ‘what Meghan wants Meghan gets,’ and that he himself would soon make not a very soft landing on the dog bowl in Nottingham Cottage, when his sensible brother would try to dispel the dense fog that had enveloped Harold’s impressionable mind. Prince William also hoped to shake off Harold’s naivety and gullibility, for the good of Harry himself, alas, to no avail.

This account comes from the Prince’s book, Spare (2023), so we can’t fully rely on it. The scene might have been dramatised by Harry’s ghostwriter, JR Moehringer, for the sake of the Shakespearean tension, which the melodramatic and gossipy book would have lacked completely, despite the Prince’s quite intolerable tendency to overshare. But if there had been any other purpose of that histrionic, blood-and-thunder scene, such as exposing his brother as a steadfast man who doesn’t suffer fools gladly, Prince Harry succeeded in doing so, but he also, embarrassingly, placed himself into the dog bowl, not only becoming the laughingstock of the world but also presenting himself to his reader as a distrustful and immature man who, clearly, is in discord not only with his Royal relations, but also with his conscience and reality.

Prince William, on the contrary, if the wrangle occurred indeed, earns respect and even admiration from the reader like myself, because he chooses to stand up for all those who were callously reduced to tears by Harry’s wife, whereas Harry adamantly refuses to believe it. The argument should have been left behind the scenes, of course, but the book needed some sensationalism, after all, what was Harry paid for? Definitely not for his Hamlet-musings in the Frogmore gardens. “Good money can make one say anything at all, regardless of whether certain events happened or not, if one is desperate enough and doesn’t play by the rules,” was the conclusion of the majority of Britons and a good deal of Americans, too. But if Harry just entertained his newfound home, America, with his opus, the prodigal son slapped his good old motherland, Great Britain, on the face, leaving their relationship at daggers drawn. By all accounts, not a very wise chess move. “Check, Harry!”

When the two Princes had disagreed at Nottingham Cottage in 2019, Prince Harry must have already been going through a rapid transformation from the Prince everyone used to be fond of into someone entirely different. The old Harry had been vanishing into thin air by the day. The dog bowl, metaphorically speaking, was turning into a gold-making machine and as well a trap for him into which he lured himself because of his poor judgement and estrangement from his brother who had dutifully looked after him ever since they were children, even if Harry diminishes his significance now, although, ironically, still looks up to William. Who would forget that moment when Prince William, while volunteering in Southern Chile during his gap year, in 2000, had Harry on his mind all the time? He said to the journalist that, after he had been done with his chores (at the moment of the interview, he was cooking and then cleaning a toilet), he would write a letter to Harry. Prince William has cared for his brother, probably no less than their mother, who was as strict as loving, not rarely at all scolding Harry for his naughtiness.

The Princess Diana’s reflection in the Prince William’s behaviour towards Harry is hard to miss. To this day, William handsomely resembles her looks, and that is, of course, merely a genetic coincidence, which, by no means, should be emphasised by Prince Harry, as if it were the wormwood and the gall to him. Harry allowed this rather fatuous comparison to see the light, but he blundered again, showing his own rough corners, not his brother’s. It might be that his ghostwriter either insisted on the passage or didn’t think it was awkward. I certainly thought it was maladroit. But, again, maybe those aren’t Harry’s own remarks? Has Harry been really that jealous of his brother’s looks? And if so, how preposterous! Didn’t Princess Diana joke once that William is destined to be a king, whereas Harry has more freedom of choice, and, besides, all the girls would be his?

But Harry didn’t want all the girls or any girl, he wanted ‘the List,’ ‘the love of his life.’ Fair enough, it’s his choice, but how could this love of his possibly dare to demand from the Royal Family to change their traditions for the sake of her vulgar caprices? Aside to being Harry’s wife, who is she, anyway? The book would’ve been more attractive, had it not contained various comments about Harry’s relatives, who, understandably, would dread any invasion of their privacy and intrusion into their personal space. And who wouldn’t? It does sound a trifle as if the Sussexes might have even resorted to chantage to negotiate the Megxit deal. They even expect the Royal Family to offer them an apology now. Most believe, however, that it should be the other way round. But the Sussexes, I daresay, have been debilitated by their wondrous gold-making dog-bowl-machine so much that they have completely forgotten which one is the left foot and which one is the right foot.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only instance in the book when Harry’s candid verbosity was hardly endearing but very much repugnant, despite some truly touching moments of self-reflective contemplation, e.g., in the preface-essay in Spare. There, he is sharing his emotions and thoughts from the gardens at Frogmore, on April 17, 2021, right after the funeral of Prince Philip. He is conflicted with Hamlet in himself. Oddly, he doesn’t pay enough attention to Prince Philip, given the circumstances, while waiting for his brother and father. I think it is rather sad as Harry’s memory seems to deceive him, and his recollections are often truly equivocal. It’s unlikely, therefore, he would remember the care and love he received from his brother and father. Not now, after he had married not only ‘his List,’ his ideal woman, that is, but also, as some braved to utter, his ‘mother.’ I disagree with this point of view. Harry didn’t ‘marry his mother,’ he married an impostor with excellent calculating skills and with an ardent desire to reincarnate Princess Diana for Harry, in order to open the doors for them to everything they had been denied before.

But who said Diana wouldn’t disapprove of it and would support Harry’s wife’s demeanor? That’s very unlikely for a number of reasons. And it’s a great pity that Harry’s wife has misconstrued Princess Diana’s personality so grossly, and Harry allowed it. Despite her rebellious nature and just one or two public incautious moves, which by no means imperiled anyone’s life, Princess Diana was a conservative enough woman. She knew how to not cross the line and what was good and what wasn’t, unlike Harry and especially his wife, who sees the world through a very peculiar lens, that of her looking-glass self, which isn’t her true or authentic self at all. If one saw the Netflix documentary, one might have noticed how she is (re)imagining herself all the time, here she is the wannabe Gwyneth Paltrow, there the wannabe Julia Roberts, but rarely if ever her own self. Princess Diana didn’t have such a conflicting personality at all, she might have had a self-deprecating humour, but she knew who she was, and she fearlessly, to the heart’s core, defended her true original self, Lady Diana Spencer, not permitting others to influence her self-perception and identity. Harry’s wife wants to be this and that, and that’s fine, not fine is the means she chooses to achieve her personal goals. Hysteria and blackmail are favourite devices used by those who want, consciously or unconsciously, to harm others and make them suffer. The consequences thus from Meghan Markle’s actions are dire for others, but even more so for Harry and Meghan themselves. By the way, when one derives enormous pleasure from cruelty, what is one called, then?

Harry’s identity as a prince began to crumble the minute he met Meghan Markle. He, all of a sudden, became an enthusiastic selfie-taker, as the Netflix documentary paraded a bunch of selfies taken with his wife. Of course, it’s too miniscule a thing to mention even, compared to the fact that he abdicated himself as a prince, thus distancing from his blood relations, which Diana would’ve never done. She was proud of being Lady Diana Spencer, but she was also very proud and honoured to be part of the Royal Family. “I’ll never let you down,” she said to Her Majesty The Queen Elizabeth II. Her divorce from Prince Charles was a crushing moment for her, but not for her identity; she stood up bravely for herself, resisting negative emotions as much as she could, cultivating and elevating her kindness to the highest degree possible. And, as time tells us now, she didn’t cause any damage to the Royal Family at all. Also, it’s very unlikely that Princess Diana wouldn’t have noticed right away how manipulative Meghan Markle is. Would she have accepted it? I think not. There would’ve been an inevitable confrontation between the two women. Then, Harry would’ve faced the Hamletian dilemma of ‘to be or not to be,’ indeed.

Moreover, given that Princess Diana is not only Harry’s mother, but also Prince William’s, and that she is a beloved historical figure, it’s a Gargantuan carnivorousness not only to usurp Harry but also Princess Diana’s persona, commodifying her figure for their only benefit. But at the same time, Harry’s wife depreciates Diana’s significance (read: ‘unconscious bias’!), degrading her publicly to the role of Harry’s mother and their children’s grandmother exclusively, choosing to disregard that Princess Diana is a cultural phenomenon, an icon and an inspiration for others, and has been that for decades. I’m thinking of the moment in the Netflix documentary when Meghan Markel is holding their baby in her arms and looking at the portrait of the Princess in their Montecito house, cooing to the baby: “It’s your Grandma. Yes, it’s your Grandma.” She is enticing herself through this pseudo-mother construct into Harry’s personal space in the hope of replacing Harry’s memories of his mother with her own daily self, making him depend on her (not positively!), instead of his mother, the ideal-like, dream-like, mythical almost, human being, who had been, in fact, quintessential to Harry’s existence and personality, for Princess Diana could also be viewed as his conscience. He said it himself in the preface of Spare that she is to him like the Morning Star that has been guiding him. And attempting to take it away from Harry completely, is very dangerous for him, it would mean that part of his personality would suffer tremendously from this loss, a second time round, which he shall regret later. Of course, this gives Meghan Markle the opportunity to exercise her power over Harry, enslaving and even colonising him this way. She would prevent any other person to enter that space, where Meghan is striving to replace Diana for Harry, so that she could never lose control over him. And if that makes Harry happy, why not, after all, it’s his life? The problem is that the new guiding star of Harry’s, despite some good qualities, has serious shortcomings, most of them are of ethical nature.

It appears to be an attack with a vengeance on all levels of Meghan’s consciousness on nearly everyone whom Harry had known prior to meeting her. And bringing the class shifts into their relationship this way, she imagines herself and acts as Harry’s quasi-Empress, while publicly denigrating him and disregarding nearly every single one of his relatives, never mind their rank or historical and cultural significance. Harry, the slave, becomes a mere source of fame and material enrichment for her and that of notoriety and scandals for his Royal Family. The late Queen Elizabeth II is just Harry’s Grandmother to her, Prince William – ‘your brother,’ as she barks indignantly in the documentary, after Harry had showed her a text message from Prince William. One might forgive it if it’s done in a private conversation, but she does it publicly, as if she wanted to prove her superiority to the Royal Family. What would give her the right for such an unheard impertinence, many wonder? And what would ever justify such an insolent conduct?

However, it’s time for a flashback. When the Prince had found out that the dog-woman had also an interest in meeting him, he was oblivious of festina lente, alas, and rushed to hold on Fortuna’s hair as tight as possible, in order not to let the chance slip by. And if the wizard provided Ms Markle with a certain love potion (a rhetorical figure here only, God forbid!), the latter seemed to work like a magic wand. Prince Harry didn’t think twice, he just seemed to know instantaneously that she was that woman who knew how to charm him, and, sadly, she also knew how to mislead him, and, eventually, to destroy him as a prince, lowering him to her own level of incessant ruthlessness and never-ending acquisitiveness. Besides, she also knew how to stir the pot, out of jealousy, malice, Schadenfreude, fun, and what not, while trying tirelessly to glamourise and popularise her own image, making it a household name. One isn’t surprised at all, then, why Ms Markle was a professional social media influencer. And I object to this a great deal, because she happens to undermine the cultural and social values I had been introduced to as a child.

But then, in 2016, Harry found himself under her spell, having encountered ‘the love of his life,’ at last. To confirm his feelings, Harry took out of the drawer the list of all the traits he wished to see in his dream-woman and thoroughly went through it, making sure that the woman was not going to end up a mere mirage for him any minute. After studying the list carefully, he ticked all the boxes on the list and decided that the American actress happened to fulfill all his requirements, besides, she appeared to remind him of his mother, he said. The awesome American, apple-pie-like, woman was shortly offered the Prince’s heart and a ring that he designed for her by himself, the lavish wedding followed, the bride, yesterday’s divorcée, was even given permission by the ever gracious Queen Elizabeth II to wear a white dress and a veil, after all, Harry had never been married before. The couple seemed to have the endless train of all kinds of stories and demands surrounding their wedding preparations: the wrong tiara, the ill-fitting bridesmaids’ dresses and missing stockings, the bride’s father’s overjoyed heart that suddenly commanded him into hospital, the bride’s stolen letter to her father, her niece that was abruptly uninvited from the wedding, etc., etc. (One wonders what Shakespeare would have thought about this eventful Windsor wedding?) Our newlyweds started their married life at the historical Nottingham Cottage in the grounds of Kensington Palace, and at this point, the fairytale should have ended with the usual ‘And they all lived happily ever after,’ not this time, however.

‘Love wins,’ triumphed their supporters. ‘Harry is ruined,’ sighed their adversaries. ‘She’s a manipulative gold-digger!’ cried one half of the world. ‘No, she is Harry’s saviour!’ cried the other half. And all this time, with the poor Royal Family in the middle! One can rest assured that the Royal Family haven’t seen anything of the sort ever since the King Edward VIII’s abdication. Only it has turned out to be a much worse saga that seems to have no end. Neither its historicity nor the splendid entourage of roses around Nottingham Cottage were good enough for Harry’s wife, and like all nouveaux riches, she wanted more, much more, something that is larger than life, something that is colossal and ostentatious, something that would have her name on the deed to the house. Did it matter to her that good old Nott Cott is probably one of the very few properties in London that is still sui generis and has the original bones? Of course, not. Why would she care about that? Especially after the brash remarks of her dear friend, Madame Oprah, who, after visiting the Cottage, surprised by its modest size, exclaimed: “No one would believe it!” “No one would believe it!” repeated our heroes in tandem in their Netflix documentary shortly before Christmas 2022.

But the most likely truth is that, in a century or two, no one is going to believe how on earth such a petty individual with such low ethical standards became a British Duchess who wrapped the prince around her little finger, disrupted all his relations, and took him away from his country, blaming the British media and the Royal Family for all the sins of the world. And while Prince Harry and his wife try continuously to invalidate the Royal Family’s mantra, ‘Never complain, never explain,’ their own mantra seems to be ‘Stir the pot and cash in as much as you can’ at the expense of those whose credibility, nobility and kindness they are shamelessly exploiting. Responsibility of being a historical figure that had been instilled into Prince Harry’s mind ever since he was a little boy has been overturned by irresponsibility of his wife’s irreverent attitudes towards History. Somehow, they convinced themselves that, despite their scurrilous conduct, History would still grant them a privileged place when the time comes, forgetting that History can be as ruthless and unforgiving as they are themselves, when it comes to settling accounts with the historical figures. They also seem to be oblivious of the fact that glory, which may be gold and roses for them now, will eventually turn into historical soot and dust. Thus, they have already reserved a place for themselves in the chronicles of Time, and it’s not the most prominent or pretty one, in the Perifereia of History, thanks to all the noise they are making today. Also, the Hamletian dilemma of ‘to be or not to be’ has never been a matter of crucial importance for Harry, except on the first pages of Spare, because Harry’s new guiding star, his material girl, thought he’d rather be consumed by the conundrum of to have or not to have. And he chose ‘to have,’ of course, to Meghan Markle’s great satisfaction.

*This postmodern fairytale is a work of fiction. All the characters, events, incidents, and discourses are fruit of imagination and under no circumstances should be perceived as real. Any resemblance to actual events, places, names, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

(Written on the rainy night of January 14, 2023, in the Sky Control Room, on Cape Cod.)

REVIEW

The Foibles of the American ‘Prince’

Or the faux pas of the HBO Max series “The Prince”.

By Elena Vassilieva

On 29 July this year, the HBO Max aired The Prince, a new series about a royal family. I’m deliberately using minuscule letters in a phrase ‘a royal family’, so that it’s clear from the start that this animated series has nothing to do with The Royal Family of the House of Windsor. Of course, Gary Janetti, the creator of the series, might have had them in mind while writing the script, as he had brazenly appropriated their names, and it may delude one in the first few seconds as if it were simply a cartoonish take on the Royals. However, any cartoon, particularly a satirical one, is based on good, solid humour and fine, substantial wit, and at least a vague resemblance to the reality that is being spoofed. But none of this you will find in The Prince, an idle fantasy that isn’t bright and sparkling, but rather dull and utterly unfunny.

Besides, it seems to rely heavily on the creator’s background, his own life philosophy, behavioural modes, ethical codes, and preferences rather than those of the Royal Family members’. Also, it’s so conspicuously un-British, in spite of the involvement of a bunch of the UK actors (Alan Cumming, Orlando Bloom, Frances de la Tour, Iwan Rheon, Lucy Punch, Dan Stevens, Sophie Turner) in the series, that one is left guessing why Mr Janetti hadn’t chosen one of the fabled American families, say, the Kardashians, these relentless publicity slaves, or even one of the crews of the White House (Donald Trump would do, but so would Joe Biden), instead of bothering with the House of Windsor? The utter un-Britishness of the discourse and manners of the supposed royal characters are so striking a fact here that one can’t possibly take this creation seriously, and even less so as a comic piece. The mode of the contemporary American popular culture, whose hegemony on the global scene is hardly deniable and whose social dress code of the ubiquitous and infectious ‘look at me’ and ‘gimme’ self-exposure, combined with the urge for everything royal, are very oppressive in The Prince, ad nauseam, indeed. And if there had ever been the spirit of the British monarchy in the creator’s mind in the phase of conceiving the series, it got quickly evaporated in the process of its preparations for the audience. I would be afraid to call it even a translation, possibly, “lost in translation” would be a better phrase in this context. Please forgive me the banality of this comparison.

Even Prince Harry, whose every article of value has been contaminated by Meghan Markle’s system of values, wouldn’t say things in real life the way he is uttering them in the cartoon. For instance, in the episode where he is sharing matter-of-factly, yet in a lazily detached fashion, his astonishment of how unlike all the palaces he had ever been to the dwelling in LA is. It does sound flat, doesn’t it? And it’s a factual inaccuracy, as Harry, clearly, is fond of his new home, but it’s also a psychological distortion of reality, because he is very proud of their beautiful house, and he stated that himself in the infamous Oprah-interview, unless the creator knows something we don’t know yet. Regrettably, the series is filled with such truly sad discordances throughout: the cartoon’s characters, very American in every imaginable way, absurdly, have the real British Royal names; the children, e.g., Prince George and Princess Charlotte, sound as if they were teenagers already, on top of the fact that it’s rather tacky, vicious even, and done in poor taste, having presented the children of that young age as very unlikeable and spoilt characters, who in true life are nothing of the sort, on the contrary, they are as good-hearted and lovely as any child of their age. If it’s an animated satirical film, naturally, the characters are allowed, in fact, supposed to have some features of exaggerated proportions, but they ought to be truthful to the nature of those who are being portrayed, they can’t be forged and reimagined as the creator pleases. If the latter is the case, it’s not a satirical or even comedic enterprise anymore. All of the heroes of The Prince without exception are ill-conceived, in my view, and don’t therefore meet that criterion.

One also is puzzled, for what audience precisely the series is being made? Since it fails to release comedic effect and a crystal clear concept of the series seems to be absent as well, it can’t possibly excite imagination of any adult who possesses at least minimal intellectual curiosity, and, at the same time, it’s way too nasty and unenticing for a child, even a teenager. Though the music (by a British composer Rupert Gregson-Williams), which might be here the only thing that deserves a round of applause, suggests the younger generations of viewers. Perhaps the cartoon was thought to suit someone who is consumed by any royal topic and who would be triggered to watch it, once he hears the word ‘prince’, sort of the Pavlov’s dog bell reflex? Maybe the writers (Gary Janetti, Alain Bala, and Tom McDonald) just tried to offer their, strictly American, view of the royal everyday where the nuances got carefully filtered through the American mentality of a typical well-to-do middle-class man, a bourgeois, and a prince-wannabe? But for the lack of the appropriate circumstances, this can happen only on the very primitive level of the creator’s imagination, of course. Not surprising is hence that the only characters that are being spared from the creator’s repugnant vision are the bourgeois members of the Royal Family, Kate Middleton and Meghan Markle, for instance. Janetti’s sympathetic attitude to the women could be explained through his capability of grasping their mentality, because they share the same or similar social background (and a bourgeois mindset).

I also have difficulty to define the series as for its genre. It doesn’t appear to be a comedy because it isn’t funny. Acidic as it is, it lacks all the sharp, fair points and all the right angles of the societal peripeteias to be regarded as a good satire. Travesty would probably be the closest notion that would do justice to the series. Willingly or unwillingly, the Royals have been the centre of attention and a magnet for creative minds continuously throughout the centuries, but until now, the discourse had probably never been instilled with so much unforgivable balderdash, if not to say rubbish, and tastelessness. The latest pop-cultural ‘royal’ endeavours, such as The Crown and this HBO Max series The Prince, confirm and exemplify it so poignantly. One only wonders which one of the innumerous Royal commentators and experts has consulted The Prince?

(Written on Sunday, 22 August 2021, the day of the hurricane Henri, here, on Cape Cod.)