Queen Elizabeth II delivers a speech in the House of Lords during the State Opening of Parliament at the Palace of Westminster in London on May 11, 2021. Photo / AP
OPINION:
The most wonderfully archaic part of the state opening of Parliament is the delivery of the parliamentary hostage. In a tradition dating back to Charles I – who had a very testy relationship with Parliament – every time the sovereign enters the hallowed halls of Westminster, Buckingham Palace takes an official captive to guarantee her safe return. (Given Charles I was the only monarch ever done for treason, had his head chopped off and sparked the English Civil War, the hostage idea wasn't a bad one.)
Today, we have another hostage situation, if you will, only it's the declining health of our 96-year-old Queen which seems to be keeping her castle-bound.
Early on Tuesday, Buckingham Palace announced that for the first time in nearly 60 years, she would miss the state opening of Parliament, due to "episodic mobility problems". (The only other times she has not taken part in the state opening of Parliament were when she was pregnant with sons Prince Andrew and Prince Edward, highlighting how much things have changed since knocked up women were expected to be confined to quarters for nine long months.)
Instead, Prince Charles will be stepping in for his mother, presiding over the pageantry and reading her speech at the state opening, the first time he has taken on this weighty role, with Prince William also having been tapped by his grandmother to attend in another royal first.
While this might just seem like another instance in the ever-growing list of big ticket events that Her Majesty has pulled out of over the last six months, including a two-day tour of Ireland, the Cop26 climate conference and appearing at the Cenotaph on Remembrance Day, this Parliament news falls into its own deeply concerning category.
Feel free to use the word "unprecedented" as much as you want here and consider the Rubicon thoroughly crossed.
Opening Parliament is the most fundamentally intrinsic part of what a monarch of Great Britain does. (Well, that and provide royal assent on laws and legislation.) If the Queen can no longer perform the most significant and symbolically important part of her job, how much longer can she feasibly hang on to the ruling gig?
The decision for her not to attend would not have been one she made lightly, especially given it required issuing new Letters Patents so that she could officially delegate Charles and William, in their capacity as counsellors of state, to stand in for her.
Dialling up the concern here is that both the palace and the powers that be at Westminster had already gone to great lengths to revise the usual running order to try to accommodate her mobility issues.
According to the Telegraph, the entire event had been "pared back as much as possible" for her comfort and unspecified "measures" had been instituted which would have meant she could enter and leave the building without anyone seeing her, thus ensuring privacy should she need, say, the help of two burly protection officers to get in and out of her specially-made burgundy Bentley. So too would her walk from the car to the palace of Westminster have been shielded from long lenses and prying eyes.
Since 2017 the carriage ride from Buckingham Palace to the houses of Parliament has been undertaken by car; likewise for years she has worn day dress, rather than heavy official robes, and similarly has not worn the hefty Imperial State Crown (which features 2868 diamonds) but it is carried by the Lord Great Chamberlain, the Marquess of Cholmondeley into the chamber.
Since 2016, Her Majesty has skipped walking up the 26 steps of the royal staircase at the Sovereign's Entrance at Parliament, taking a lift instead.
That despite all of these tweaks she was still not physically up to taking part should have every alarm bell, door bell, bike bell and summoning-the-footmen bell the length of London ringing right now.
What I want to know is, how much longer can the palace expect us to swallow the line that she is only dealing with "episodic mobility problems"?
Each time it is announced that Her Majesty will be missing some usually set-in-stone occasion for health reasons, courtiers relentlessly seem to try to spin the line that everything's just super! Just some teeny tiny issues! The Queen'll be right as rain any day now! Now, who wants a scone?
According to the Telegraph, "Palace aides pointed out that the Queen has a busy diary this week" which included a call with Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison, the Privy Council and her usual weekly chitchat with Boris Johnson.
Really? Does watching Scotty from Marketing sweat and make small talk during a Zoom call for 10 minutes really constitute a "busy diary"? Does listening to Boris rabbit on about nothing in his most polite plummy tones translate to a genuinely full schedule?
The real issue here is the ridiculous notion that a woman fast approaching her century can truly keep holding down a day job for 363-days-a-year. (She famously only takes two days off from doing her official red box of government papers – Christmas Day and Easter Sunday.)
Just to put things in perspective, when she took the throne, some wartime rationing was still in effect, parts of London were still in ruins after the Blitz, and rag and bone men, using horses and carts, were still a regular presence around the suburbs. (They bought old clothes and mended pots.)
The reign of Queen Elizabeth II might still be officially ticking along, but over the last few days we have witnessed a number of dominoes fall, signalling that her chapter is fast closing.
Late last week it was revealed that she would not be attending any of the Buckingham Palace garden parties, which are back on the calendar for the first time since 2019.
So too were dramatic changes to the Buckingham Palace line-up for the Trooping the Colour fly-past announced, with only working members of the royal family now allowed to take part in the iconic moment.
Her appearance at any of the events planned for her upcoming Platinum Jubilee celebration is far from certain with the palace having said that they would only be confirming her attendance on the day.
As with the opening of Parliament, a number of Plan Bs have been reportedly hashed out, including trading making the 1km journey from Buckingham Palace to Horse Guards Parade, where the colour is trooped, in a carriage but instead in a Range Rover led by a full Sovereign's Escort of Household Cavalry.
Once there, normally, she sits on a dais to inspect the troops. One contingency reportedly being considered is that she would watch from an office that overlooks the parade ground.
("All the plans are fluid at the moment and nothing has been finalised," a royal insider has told the Telegraph.)
The Queen has always staunchly opposed abdication, seeing it as something akin to a cowardly and selfish renunciation of the duty. She has never wavered from the oath during her 1953 coronation ceremony.
Which leaves us, and the crown, in this strange no man's land.
Her Majesty might still be able to receive ambassadors and undertake video calls, but as she herself once supposedly quipped: "I have to be seen to be believed."
What happens when the world only ever sees her via a computer screen or in carefully released press shots?
The sad fact is, she has become an indoors-only monarch.
Charles, meanwhile, has become king in all but name (and popularity) outside of palace gates, having assumed a growing number of her real-world responsibilities in recent years.
How tenable is this arrangement in the longer term, really?
I have always hoped – if not assumed – that Her Majesty would follow a similar path to the Queen Mother who passed away at 101 and having opened an aircraft carrier and hosted a house party in the final year of her life. She might have had the teeth of a Dickensian street urchin but she had the joie de vivre and vim and vigour of a woman a quarter of her age. Somehow it seemed a shock when she died – that such spirit could ever actually be extinguished.
Sadly, I feel like the opposite is happening with her daughter. It feels like we are watching her reign deflate in front of our very eyes.
The Queen Mother might have cemented her place in British hearts with her staunch refusal to leave Buckingham Palace as German bombs rained down on London but I'm betting she knew when it was time to leave a party. Maybe that's a lesson our Queen might learn yet.
• Daniela Elser is a royal expert and a writer with more than 15 years experience working with a number of Australia's leading media titles.