London – On 10 April, members of the Foreign Press Association gathered to hear Robert Hardman present his latest book on Elizabeth II, published ahead of what would have been the late monarch’s centenary.
Hardman opened with a question he had already been asked many times: why return, yet again, to a subject so extensively covered? After all, as he recalled, “a lot of people said, oh, come on, there’s absolutely nothing new to say.”
His answer was immediate and emphatic: “the point about Elizabeth II, she is endlessly fascinating… new material comes out all the time, new documents, new papers, and above all new voices.”
Writing the Most Personal Portrait
Unlike his previous works, written while the Queen was still alive, this book attempts something more intimate. Hardman described it as “probably the most personal book I’ve done on her,” an effort to move beyond public record and closer to character.
Yet even this ambition encounters a paradox. Elizabeth II, he suggested, was defined precisely by her resistance to definition. “One of her great skills in life was not really to be defined… she was utterly authentic, she was herself.”
The remark captured the central tension of the event: how to write, or even speak, about a figure whose identity was both completely visible and carefully unknowable.
A Global Figure Across a Century of Change
Hardman placed the Queen firmly within the vast sweep of modern history. Her reign, he reminded the audience, stretched across transformations so profound as to be almost unimaginable today.
“When she came to the throne in 1952… half the nations on Earth today did not exist.”
She was not merely a witness to change, but an agent of continuity within it: a monarch who helped dismantle empire, reshape it into the Commonwealth, and guide Britain “into Europe, out of Europe… through multiple wars.”
This historical scale, Hardman implied, is key to understanding why Elizabeth II continues to command attention long after her death.
The Regard of World Leaders
One of the more striking aspects of Hardman’s research lies in the voices he has gathered, including world leaders who spoke more freely after the Queen’s passing.
Recalling a visit to Donald Trump, he described it as a “fairly extraordinary experience,” noting that the former U.S. president “was a huge fan.” Trump’s admiration extended to displaying a portrait of the Queen prominently in Mar-a-Lago, a detail Hardman described as “indicative of the regard that other world leaders have for her.”
Such anecdotes, while occasionally surprising, reinforced a broader point: Elizabeth II’s authority often transcended politics.
A More Nuanced Legacy
The conversation did not shy away from more difficult territory. Asked whether recent controversies—particularly surrounding Prince Andrew—had diminished the Queen’s standing, Hardman resisted the idea of decline.
“I just think it’s become a more… nuanced picture,” he said.
He was particularly critical of the persistent claim that Andrew was simply “her favourite.” Instead, he offered a more complex and, perhaps, more human interpretation: “he was the one she really worried about.”
Far from indulgence, Hardman described concern, vulnerability, and maternal anxiety. “She was not blind to his faults,” he added, recalling that one of her lowest moments came when she had to approve her son’s withdrawal from public life.
1969: The Year It Almost Became Too Much
Among the most revealing moments in the talk was Hardman’s account of the summer of 1969, a period of intense pressure on the monarchy.
Following Prince Charles’s investiture amid political tension and security threats, the Queen returned to Buckingham Palace and, as Hardman put it, “just disappeared for a week.”
The official explanation was “summer flu,” but the reality, he suggested, was different: “it was as near as she got to a nervous breakdown… she was… exhausted.”
For a monarch so often associated with composure, the episode offered a rare glimpse of strain beneath the surface of duty.
A Seamless Transition
Turning to the present, Hardman reflected on the period following the Queen’s death. Contrary to widespread predictions, Britain did not descend into crisis.
Many had expected instability, even an identity vacuum. Instead, the transition to King Charles III was, in his words, “seamless.”
The explanation lay partly in preparation—Charles had spent decades considering the role—and partly in the monarchy’s enduring function. At a moment of political turbulence, the Crown appeared as a constant.
The Final Days
Hardman’s account of Elizabeth II’s death was notably restrained, yet deeply affecting. There was no prolonged public decline, no extended vigil.
“It was remarkably quick… exactly what she would have wanted.”
Her final public act—appointing a Prime Minister—was framed not as symbolism, but as purpose. Even in her last days, she remained, in Hardman’s interpretation, defined by duty.
An Unfinished Understanding
By the close of the event, one impression prevailed: that Elizabeth II remains, even now, resistant to final interpretation.
Hardman returned to his opening idea with quiet insistence. “She remains endlessly fascinating.”
For the audience at the Foreign Press Association, the presentation was not simply about a new book. It was about the persistence of a figure who continues to invite inquiry—historical, personal, and political—without ever yielding entirely to it.
In that sense, the Queen’s story, like Hardman’s work, remains unfinished. The Book is published by Panmacmillian