Of all the post-Churchill prime ministers who have governed the United Kingdom, there is one whose personality and policy stick out particularly strongly in the national – and indeed global – consciousness. Margaret Thatcher is the longest-serving British premier in living memory, and also the one whose tenure is often considered the most transformative. Even now, twelve years after her death, her legacy remains a potent force in determining the course of British politics both inside and outside her own party. As I mentioned in my article about memoirs, a lot of MPs define their status in relation to Thatcher in a way that doesn’t happen with Macmillan, Wilson or even Blair. Perhaps, then, it is only natural that her royal audiences, more than anyone else’s, should be a source of such fascination. Palmer isn’t the only one to single out this relationship – there’s also Moira Buffini’s comedy play Handbagged. Thatcher also marks a turning point in Elizabeth II’s reign (the halfway point of which occurred about the time of her third election victory): When the monarch came to the throne her ministers were often people nearly as old as her grandparents, by the end they were people born well within her reign and sometimes younger than her grandchildren. Thatcher was only four months older – had the Princess Elizabeth gone to school they would have been in the same academic year. On top of that, there was the obvious novelty of having the heads of state and government both be female, which still hadn’t happened again when this book came out.

The theme of the book is that despite the superficial similarity in sex and age, the two protagonists (or should that be antagonists) were fundamentally poles apart in class and philosophy – Elizabeth representing the genteel, leisurely aristocracy and Margaret the ambitious middle-class strivers. The chapters on their childhoods are where this difference is laid out most starkly (and also where Palmer’s sympathies are most obvious): Alfred & Beatrice Roberts had high aspirations for their offspring, which little Maggie displayed superhuman intelligence and stamina in pursuing, even to the extent of hiring a private tutor to teach her Latin because her grammar school didn’t offer it but Oxford required it. Palmer says that in a few months she picked up what normally takes five years. Lilibet, by contrast, barely got any formal education as her mother Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon did not value it at all. Mary of Teck intervened to rectify her granddaughters’ shortcomings but even she agreed that it would be undesirable to have them be particularly studious¹. That said, it was assured that the princess took seriously her status as heiress presumptive, and that this sometimes gave her an “imperious” attitude, even to the point of criticising a priest’s sermon or a guard unit’s attire (ironically that part is like Thatcher later on). The longstanding political trope of “authenticity” comes up here: Thatcher, having worked her way from middle to upper class, had taken elocution lessons and adopted other affectations which often caused sniggering from both above and below. The Queen, having been born and raised at the top, naturally avoided this. That Thatcher did not share Her Majesty’s (or really any) sense of humour was another cause of friction. It would be wrong, however, to say that such friction is inherent due to the differences in social class, or even to political differences – among the grammar school generation of prime ministers Elizabeth II got along well with Wilson, Callaghan, Major and Brown but not so well with Heath.²

I shall attempt now to go through, in no particular order, the key reasons which Palmer identifies for the disagreement between the two leading ladies. The first is the subversion of the traditional relationship between crown and government: The British constitution employs a separation of the Dignified and Efficient parts of the state so that patriotic adulation can safely be directed at a figurehead who does not exercise real executive power, while the person who does exercise it is kept in a position of symbolic subservience. Furthermore, the Prime Minister is supposed to be first-among-equals, with all the other ministers around the cabinet table deciding on policy collectively. Thatcher’s domineering personality and immaculate sense of style often got her called “Presidential”. She would insist on immediately visiting the scene after a disaster to meet survivors (whereas the royals would wait a day or two in case their presence obstructed rescue and clean-up operations), and taking military salutes in preference to the monarch – something even Churchill couldn’t have done. It was seen that she was usurping her queen’s role as the symbolic personification of the nation. She also had a tendency to ride roughshod over her political colleagues, gradually purging all but the staunchest loyalists from the front bench, then later neglecting even these in favour of a small cabal of special advisers. This, Palmer notes, is what ultimately brought about her political downfall in 1990.

The second point of contention was Thatcher’s political philosophy: Although she was the Leader of the Conservative Party, many commentaries and histories of her tenure remark that it was really the Labour Party at this time which was “small-c conservative” in so far as it sought to maintain the prevailing status quo in Britain’s economic order. Thatcher thought that the policies of the last dozen governments had led Britain into terminal stagnation and that radical reforms were needed to find prosperity again – the welfare state, the nationalised industries and the trade unions were all dead weights which throttled growth, therefore they had to be destroyed. There was to be a ruthless drive for efficiency and productivity above all else. This did not sit well with the sedate and sentimentalist approach to life favoured by the royal household and the rest of the aristocracy. Despite the outward deference of Thatcher herself, the Firm could well have feared for their own survival against the forces she sought to unleash. The traditionalist wing of the Conservative Party, many of whose members were also from aristocratic backgrounds and who supported a paternalistic approach, likewise balked at much of this. A division erupted between One-Nation/Wet and Thatcherite/Dry parliamentarians which continues to this day.

The third division was over the pair’s approach to division itself: Thatcher realised that in order to be an effective political leader she often had to make decisions which would be unpopular even if they were necessary (and ultimately beneficial). A government can survive on the support of a surprisingly-low proportion of the population (given turnout and constituency distribution) and even that need technically only be mustered once every four or five years when a general election comes around. Party leaders need to make strategic calculations about which demographics matter and which don’t, as well as what they can accomplish in the limited time available to them. Thatcher to this day is legendarily divisive, making enemies of large swathes of the country, but not really caring as long as she beat them. The Queen, by contrast, needed to be monarch for everyone, everywhere, forever, no matter their creed or their breed. The position of the crown was more comfortable in the age of consensus than when the people were polarised. This distinction is especially stark in international affairs because Thatcher was only head of government in one country whereas Elizabeth was head of the enormous Commonwealth of Nations, many of which were demographically and economically very different to the United Kingdom. At times of crisis, such as over Rhodesia and South Africa, Thatcher often found herself at odds with the majority of her overseas counterparts, leaving Her Majesty in a difficult position scrambling to hold the organisation together. The Queen greatly valued her extended Commonwealth family, whereas Thatcher saw many of them (particularly the African countries) as ungrateful leeches. This rift also continues in the Conservative Party to this day.

Finally, many pages are devoted to Thatcher’s dealings with the news empire of Rupert Murdoch. He achieved his dominance of the British press during Thatcher’s premiership thanks in no small part to her continued and determined support. Murdoch’s many papers and other outlets would ensure the widespread distribution of the Thatcherite perspective. Murdoch shared Thatcher’s hatred of trade unions and strikers. He also had a loathing of Buckingham Palace, and his reporters would go to great lengths to dig up (or indeed create) dirt on the Windsors, intruding on their private lives where the British press theretofore had restrained themselves from treading. Thatcher may not have actively approved of such practices, but she tacitly tolerated them in exchange for Murdoch’s support to her government. To this day, many on the left and right (though mostly left) identify “The Murdoch Press” as the root of a great deal of Britain’s political and social instability – his antics in the 1980s encouraged an overall lowering of the tone which has yet to rise back up.

I picked up my copy of Palmer’s book from a throw-out sale at Hull Central Library on the 1^st of this month at a price of 50p. I noticed there was a more recent edition of the same title still on the shelves for lending. In mine, I spotted an alarming number of proofreading errors, some of which I will now list for your amusement:

• Page 43: “Alfred Roberts sought to make something of himself beyond the realm of his little business by taking an active role in both his local Methodist church and by serving on the local council.” – The word “both” should immediately follow “business”.
• Page 61: “Mothers throughout the country were astonished that a women would take free milk from children.” – That should be “a woman” not “a women”.
• Page 93: “Not since Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots had two “queen regnants” lived in the British Isles.” – That should be “queens regnant” not “queen regnants”.
• Page 138: “Prurient interest in the royal family’s private lives were off-limits.” – That should be either “interests” or “was off-limits”.
• Page 165: “Scargill was a socialist hero after helping to bring down the Tory Government in 1984.” – I would assume that meant to say 1974.
• Page 166: “It cost £44 to mine a metric ton of British coal, while the rest of the world were selling it for £32 per ton.” – That should probably be “was selling” and metric tons are more commonly called tonnes.
• Page 192: “At Buckingham Palace, Her Majesty waited for the third time to invited Mrs Thatcher to form her government.” – That should be “to invite” not “to invited”.
• Page 221: “embarrassment” is used twice in the same paragraph.
• Page 271: “King William and Queen Katherine would certainly sparkle” – That should be “Catherine” not “Katherine”.

Also, throughout the book Palmer refers to “the queen” rather than “The Queen” or “the Queen” which are more usual in most style guides.

I was intrigued too by the reference on page 153 to “the first Elizabethan period”, obviously identifying 1952-2022 as the second such era. This usage has not really caught on widely in academia or among the general public. I wonder whether “New Carolean” will do so.

On that note, the political attitudes of the then-Prince of Wales are also covered. He is described as being more “Wet” than his mother, and even as being sympathetic to the Social Democratic Party under David Owen. There is mention on page 195 of a meeting between prince and premier about increasing the former’s constitutional role. Thatcher turned down planning for any regency arrangements. She said he could open parliamentary sessions in his mother’s absence if need be, but only as a Lord Commissioner on the woolsack instead of from the throne (ironically the former was made impossible in 1999 and the latter wound up happening of Elizabeth II’s own volition in 2022). The most surprising thing mentioned was the stance of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother – apparently (page 207) she was an ultra-Thatcherite and fully supported the prime minister’s ideology, which is a little at odds with what was said about her attitude to raising her daughters as aforementioned or what the book also said about her dealings with Charles.

A few days ago I mentioned three new royal biographies coming out. While I have yet to read any of them in full (and may never do so) I read some of the previews on Google Books. Excepting where the later books describe events too recent for the earlier ones to cover, I expected that there would be a fair bit of overlap. Sure enough I noticed a lot of the same quotations and anecdotes appearing. This book has a very lengthy endnotes section which links back repeatedly to a large number of earlier royal and political biographies. Since most members of the family rarely (and the monarchs themselves never) give tell-all interviews (and those who do are often unreliable in what they say), nearly all of the publications on this subject will be pieced together from the same handful of sources, stories and speculations, with the original part being the author’s decision on which way to arrange them, what narrative arc to infer from them, and what commentary to add. Palmer does an adequate job of that, I suppose, but I can’t see this ever being considered one of the greats.

FOOTNOTES