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He let the side down. Now he has been dropped from the team. After the private indecency of his “former association” with Jeffrey Epstein and the public indiscretion of his interview with

Emily Maitlis, the Duke of York has finally done the decent thing. Andrew will be seen (though seldom) but never heard from again. His withdrawal from public life is the modern equivalent of

being banished from court — though he may yet appear before an American court of law. If he does, it will be as a private individual, not as a representative of the Queen. He will remain a

member of the Royal Family — that, after all, is a biological and genealogical fact — but his only duty now is to keep out of sight. The “Firm” has sustained collateral damage, of course;

but damage limitation is nothing new to the monarchy or indeed to this Monarch. Elizabeth II’s destiny was defined by the most celebrated act of damage limitation in history: the Abdication.

Her father, another Duke of York, was unexpectedly elevated to the throne to replace an elder brother who had become an embarrassment. Edward VIII’s bad judgement — not only in marriage but

in politics — had become a real threat to the institution. His retreat into not-so-private life as Duke of Windsor proved to be a blessing, both for the monarchy and for the country. By

comparison with the earthquake of the Abdication, the Prince Andrew affair is the mildest of tremors. Even so, he himself has admitted to “unbecoming” conduct and that will have given his

poor mother one of the worst weeks in her 93 years. The Queen deserves more sympathy than her second son. He may have made himself the black sheep of the family, but he is still her lamb.

Andrew is a very foolish man, and probably a dishonest one, but he has done the state some service. Amid the shame and misery he has caused, it should not be forgotten that he was a brave

naval pilot during the Falklands War. Such courage under fire does not excuse his subsequent misconduct, but it deserves to be taken into account. During that campaign, “H” (as Andrew was

then known to other officers) undoubtedly saved lives and risked his own. How many of his armchair critics can say the same? It is true that nothing quite like this has happened since the

Abdication. Scandals are hardly unprecedented, however, in the three centuries since the present dynasty has reigned over the United Kingdom, let alone the 1200-year history of the English

monarchy. Take, for example, the offspring of another long-reigning monarch, George III. The sordid private life of the Prince Regent, later George IV, is well-known. His younger brother,

Frederick, is mainly remembered for his military incompetence in the eponymous (and satirical) nursery rhyme as “the grand old Duke of York”. Yet Frederick subsequently became the

commander-in-chief of the British army during the Napoleonic wars. In 1809, at the height of the conflict, that Duke of York, too, had to temporarily retreat into private life after a rather

more serious scandal than the present one. His mistress (she was by no means the first) Mary Anne Clarke was accused of selling army commissions. After a select committee inquiry, the

Commons cleared the Duke of taking bribes, but he resigned because he only won by 84 votes. Two years later it emerged that his chief accuser had paid his mistress. The Duke was exonerated

and reinstated to his post. He later became a generally admired Army reformer and is commemorated by the Duke of York column at Waterloo Place, just off The Mall in London. Frederick died in

1827 before he could succeed George IV, so that honour went three years later to their younger brother, the Duke of Clarence, who ascended the throne as William IV. The “Sailor King” had no

fewer than ten children by his mistress, the actress known as “Mrs Jordan” (although she wasn’t married). Yet he, too, left a benign legacy: as Lord High Admiral he abolished flogging with

the cat o’ nine tails) and as King he acquiesced in Catholic Emancipation and the Great Reform Act. It is unlikely that the present Duke of York will be rehabilitated any time soon, but the

nation has learned the lesson that redemption is possible many times. One thinks of disgraced former Cabinet ministers, such as the late John Profumo, who went on to devote their lives to

good works. Now a prison chaplain, the Reverend Jonathan Aitken has long since paid his debt to society. We must hope that Andrew, too, will find a way to make amends. Above all, however, a

period of silence from him would be welcome — and the feeding frenzy should now cease. The country has more important business to attend to and this unwholesome scandal has merely served to

distract attention from more appropriate objects of media scrutiny: the politicians who purport to serve us.