The International Monarchist League publishes a quarterly journal, Monarchy. The Constitutional Monarchy Association also has a quarterly journal, called The Crown, formerly entitled Realm of Kings.

United Kingdom subscribers to the League receive both journals, while overseas subscribers receive Monarchy and may also subscribe to The Crown at a rate of five pounds added to their annual membership fee. Similarly, subscribers to the CMA receive The Crown free, and may subscribe to Monarchy at a rate of £7.50 per year.

Below is an article which was published in The Crown Spring 2010.

Sir Sydney Chapman, a longstanding Patron of the CMA, has recently published a political Memoir and the following extracts from it may be of interest to readers.

Immediately after the 1992 General Election I was appointed Vice-Chamberlain of Her Majesty's Household - a senior post in the Government Whips' Office (in which I had served since 1988).

My first engagement was to receive the wand of office from Her Majesty. I presented myself at the Palace in morning coat (with black waistcoat) and was given the stick. It resembled a billiard cue but was longer, thinner and in two pieces of simple wood which screwed together perfectly so that the inscribed words "Vice-Chamberlain" on one brass band lined up with "of HM Household" on the other.

I had three particular duties to perform: carrying messages from the House of Commons to Her Majesty (and reporting back); acting as Hostage at the State Opening of each session of Parliament; and writing to The Queen every day to report events in and about the Lower House.

The messages were requests from the Commons which asked her to approve particular Resolutions. My first was the traditional one passed by the House following the debate on the Gracious Speech at the State Opening and the second was another traditional one, asking that some signal honour be bestowed upon the recently retired Speaker, Jack Wetherall. This was code language requesting that he be granted a Peerage.

When I went to see our Sovereign, no one else could be present and I wondered what would happen and what I should say. I was assured that I had no need to worry about this, or when to bid farewell and bow out of the room. And so it was. I was taken to a room in her private wing at Buckingham Palace and was formally announced. I bowed, advanced with wand and asked her to receive and sign acceptance of the Resolution.

Business done, she then led the conversation and usually after ten minutes or so I knew when to thank her, walk backwards to the door, bow again and depart. Upon returning to the House, and immediately after Prayers, the Speaker would call "The Vice-Chamberlain" and I would walk down the aisle bowing three times before delivering her reply. The most tricky task I had, having delivered HM's response, was to walk backwards, again bowing three times.
The conversations between the Sovereign and her Vice-Chamberlain must remain confidential (I was bound by the Official Secrets Act) but, in what would be a score of private meetings, not once did Her Majesty show any sign of partisanship.

I said that our meetings were private but this wasn't strictly true. Usually some corgis were present and I have to admit that while I am an animal lover (and shared my home with four cats) I was not a paid-up member of the corgi fan club and Her Majesty's canine companions seemed distinctly unfriendly to this stranger in their midst.

There was one occasion, however, which I must regard as one of the more embarrassing moments of my life. Among the corgis was a dorki, a cross between a dachshund and corgi. This dorki had the opposite temperament and was very friendly. No sooner had I bowed to Her Majesty, the dog raced across the room and was half way up my legs, sniffing enthusiastically. I affected not to be concerned.

The requirement to attend Buckingham Palace when The Queen drove in State to open a new session dates back to the 17th century. After Parliament cut off the head of good King Charles in 1649, his son and successors were a little nervous of visiting Westminster.

Monarchs demanded an important parliamentarian be kept at their official residence until their safe return and over the years this hostage became the Vice-Chamberlain. Tradition was that Her Majesty could not leave Buckingham Palace until I arrived; and I could not return to Westminster until she was back home.

The State Opening of the 1992 Parliament was my first away day and I dutifully presented myself at the Privy Council door. I was met by Col Malcolm Ross, the Chamberlain, a tall and impressive man in court dress who allowed a scintilla of relief to spread across his face at my arrival. An Equerry (a young officer from one of the services) followed me at all times and it wasn't until much later that I realised it was his job to ensure I remained, if necessary, with the help of his sword. After The Queen left, the Equerry and I joined the Lord Chamberlain, then the Earl of Airlie, to watch the proceedings on television. Fate decreed that I was to perform this duty on two further occasions.

By far my most onerous and time-filling duty was to write to Her Majesty each day to keep her informed about what was going on. The Commons sat (then) at 2.30pm but, unfortunately, this was the time of the daily Whips' meeting and so I had little more than two hours to attend the Chamber and then leave to write and check my Message (for that is what it is called) before it was sent to the Court Postmaster at 6pm.

My first was relatively easy: to attend the first meeting of MPs to elect a new Speaker and then write a straight account of what happened. The previous Deputy Speaker, Betty Boothroyd, was elected and became the first woman to hold this Office.

I decided that The Queen wanted to be entertained as well as informed and turns of phrase and pithy descriptions would be the way ahead. I judged also that she would prefer background detail and coffee house chatter to straight reporting, which she could always get from better writers in the public prints. I had always wanted secretly to be the parliamentary sketch writer of a national newspaper and this would be my opportunity, albeit to a smaller but singular audience.

There were few rules but they included the necessity to hand write the words, using the third person. And so, to take an extreme example, "as I told you yesterday" became "as your Vice-Chamberlain informed Your Majesty in his last Message." It was all good, traditional practice and I also determined, as my writings were confidential, that a thumb nail sketch of some parliamentarians as well as what they said might be appropriate. An innocent example of this was when Michael Portillo, the new Chief Secretary to the Treasury, opened the second day's debate on the Gracious Speech, I was able to refer to him as "unique among all Your Majesty's past and present Cabinet Ministers in that he is the first to be born after your accession to the Throne."

I was to be the Vice-Chamberlain for over three years (until I ceased to be a Minister in July 1995 when John Major undertook his last major re-shuffle). I had written nearly four hundred Messages and the vast majority of them were about 700 words long, totalling around a quarter-of-a-million in all. In addition to meeting The Queen privately, I saw her briefly at some other events such as the annual Diplomatic Reception and the three Garden Parties at Buckingham Palace every July. I was expected to attend these, wand in hand, before joining her in the Royal Enclosure.

Shortly after leaving the Government I had to surrender my wand to her at a formal but private ceremony and I was dubbed at the Palace by Prince Charles a few months later when The Queen was on a State visit to Australia.