Restyling the Heir

By Barry Hillenbrand/London

The moment everyone had been waiting for came about halfway through the show. Television journalist Jonathan Dimbleby was asking Prince Charles about his relationship with Camilla Parker Bowles, the woman long rumored to be his mistress. The prince's face assumed the pained intensity of someone suffering from an acute intestinal disorder. Speaking in his characteristically elliptical sentences, Charles stammered that Parker Bowles was an old friend who was "helpful and understanding" during his marriage crisis.

Dimbleby persisted: "Were you faithful and honorable to your wife when you took on the vow of marriage?" "Yes," Charles answered, then paused before adding, "until it became irretrievably broken down." There it was: the confession. Charles, the Prince of Wales, the heir to the British throne, was by his own admission an adulterer.

The prince's confession came during a 2 1/2-hour documentary on his life broadcast on Britain's ITV network last week and watched by nearly 13 million people, a stunning two-thirds of the country's viewing audience. Though Charles' comments on his marriage occupied less than 10 minutes of the program, they, along with some controversial political statements, sparked a renewed debate over his suitability to be King. The House of Windsor once again was forced to raise the drawbridge and fill the moat against a barrage of criticism.

It wasn't supposed to work that way. The prince's advisers had given Dimbleby unusual access to Charles for more than a year because they believed that the public would be impressed by seeing the prince's tireless toil in support of worthwhile projects. "People don't know what a caring, sensitive man he is," says an aide. The film shows that attractive side of the prince in great detail.

Dimbleby captured Charles talking to residents of a decrepit public-housing project in Birmingham and mixing with unemployed young people attending a training program in Norfolk funded by one of his charitable trusts. He was also shown as an intrepid foreign traveler. On camera he projected an awkward charm, both endearing and genuine. In a Bedouin tent on the edge of the Arabian desert, he sipped camel's milk from a plastic cup. In Mexico he picked at a gooey plate of lamb. "I always dread having something like that," he said, "in case it is laced with chilies, which then rather ruins the rest of your day."

Charles also displayed his wide range of intellectual interests, rattling on about everything from holistic medicine and organic farming to the merits of national service and the demerits of modern architecture. In a conversation with Dimbleby, Charles opposed cuts in military spending and criticized ministers for not supporting his pet projects. But his most controversial statements involved the Church of England. Noting that all great religions contain common elements of truth and that his subjects follow a variety of faiths, he suggested that when he becomes King he should be called "Defender of Faith," rather than "Defender of the Faith." Since this would mark a historic break between the monarchy and the Church of England, the statement set off alarm bells for many Anglicans.

+ Reaction to the documentary was heated. The press, long criticized by the prince for its assaults on his privacy, took the occasion to gloat. The tabloids reveled in his admission of adultery; the more serious papers zeroed in on his political indiscretions. Supporters of Princess Diana, including a dedicated coterie of royal writers, rallied to her defense. Says Anthony Holden, author of Tarnished Crown: "We were not only looking for a little bit of generosity about his wife, but we were also looking for a hint of regret or apology from him for shattering people's dreams about that fairy-tale marriage. We got neither." Diana upstaged Charles on the night of the broadcast by attending a charity dinner hosted by Vanity Fair's editor in chief Graydon Carter, wearing a smashing ink-blue silk crepe off-the-shoulder cocktail dress by Valentino. It was her picture, not Charles', that was featured on the front pages the next day.

Even those who thought that Charles came off well in the film were dismayed by his marital confession. "It is often better not to touch on those things," says Sarah Bradford, author of a biography of George VI. "They can come back to haunt you."

Still, a sampling of telephone call-in polls and radio talk shows indicated that the program may have improved Charles' image -- at least in the short run. Richard Tomlinson, author of Divine Right, a perceptive new book about British royalty, contends that despite the marital comments, the public may have been charmed by seeing the prince hard at work for the nation. "But in the long term," adds Tomlinson, "Charles is heading for trouble, because the film shows that there is something in him that finds controversy irresistible."