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The royal family has been called a "soporific for a geriatric society," "comic relief to the death rattle of a nation," and other things less elegant. In fact, the world dotes on every detail of their magnificences' private lives: that the Queen is a Kojak fan; that Philip and Elizabeth sleep in separate beds; that Anne likes to drive at 100 m.p.h.; Margaret cannot stand lobster; and Charles plays a mean cello.
No one accuses them of reigning cut-rate. On a 1968 trip to Brazil, Andrew Duncan reported in his book The Reality of Monarchy, Elizabeth took along five aircraft, the royal yacht Britannia with a navy crew of 230, two frigates, a 22-piece orchestra and a personal retinue of 47, including the royal pastry chef. The government pays for such perquisites and appurtenances as Britannia (annual upkeep: $3 million), a fleet of aircraft and two purple trains reserved for the royal family. The Queen will be paid some $3.5 million this year, while five other members of the royal family receive about $500,000 in all. Prince Charles' income from his Duchy of Cornwall is $300,000. Still, to help maintain Buckingham Palace, Windsor and three other royal abodes, the Queen pays a large amount of her untaxed private income.
Queen Elizabeth, whose coronation was hailed 24 years ago as the birth of a new Elizabethan age, has watched Britain suffer one of the most precipitous declines of any great power in history. Yet the monarchy has never been identified with the nation's slide. On the eve of Elizabeth's birthday, the left-wing New Statesman observed: "There can be little disagreement that she is conscientious to a fault, exemplary in her public and private behavior, frugal by royal standards, sensible and open-minded in her relations with politicians, and thoroughly professional in all the multifarious aspects of her job." For almost half her life the Queen has spent several hours a day over state papers that range from nuclear secrets to export figures.
Her arduous duties have been eased by her husband Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh—the only man, it is said, she ever looked at twice. Of Danish descent, Philip is a discreet, supportive husband who has laid out a career of his own as a drumbeater for British industry and technology—the areas in which he sees a shrunken nation's future. His salty wit ("We live above the shop") and barbs at complacent exporters ("It's time to get the finger out") do not always endear him to the Establishment, but he rates high with the common man.
Philip in particular is given credit for insisting that the Prince of Wales be given a rigorous education. The first heir to the throne to attend public school and university as an ordinary student, jug-eared, newly bearded Charles, 27, is well-read, unstuffy and in tune with the times. "I am one of those people who believe strongly that one should adapt to changing circumstances," he said in a recent TV interview. "The one thing you cannot afford is to get left miles behind. You want to be just a little behind but ready to adapt gently and slowly."
A REIGN AGAIN IN SPAIN