What's that you say, Sooty, my conveniently mute hand-puppet? You want to read my reflections on the death of our constitutional monarch, and the pomp, ceremony, and circumstance surrounding her funeral? Really? Is this a joke? [insistent squeaking] OK, quiet now, Sweep, apparently not. Well, as it happens, I suppose I might just have a few things to say on the subject. So, settle down, and let's see what I can come up with. [excited squeaks and magic wand tapping]
First, let's be clear. I have no investment whatsoever – emotional, political, sentimental, or patriotical – in our late queen, as a person or as an institution. I have never met her, seen her in person (I'm pretty sure I'd have spotted her if she was ever down the shops) [1], sworn any oaths of loyalty to her [2], been invested with or declined any honours, received or refused an invitation to any palace garden parties, or even read much about her in the newspapers. I have certainly never bought or read any books about her or followed the royal family saga with any interest, which basically seems like a particularly poisonous soap opera which "jumped the shark" several seasons ago, and features a very unappealing line-up. Charles has clearly been cast as a pompous, manipulative dork, and Andrew... Well, we don't talk about him any more. I cared nothing about Diana, and care even less about Harry and Meghan, although it's true his ginger haired, un-Windsorish conformation does give me a little smirk of Schadenfreude whenever I see him. Nice plot twist! So, if I'm honest, I find the popular obsession with royalty both baffling and repellent, and the Ruritanian aspects of its pomp and ceremony hilarious.
I think that's clear enough? But, that said, I'm also not a convinced and campaigning republican, who wants to replace a hereditary head of state with an elected president. The very thought of choosing a new figurehead every five or so years from the available pool of talent is enough to have me out there waving my little Union Jack on a stick. Not least because it would require a complete rewrite of our, um, so far unwritten constitution. Again, looking at the available talent, and their competing visions of nationhood, that's not a prospect I'd willingly face. No: bizarre, hilarious, and anachronistic as it is, there's a lot to be said for knowing exactly who your next several heads of state will be, provided they have been reduced by the wisdom of history to a condition of ceremonial impotence. Continuity with a predictable succession of defanged, neutered devils-you-know is probably preferable, when it comes down to it, to the prospect of suffering a series of empowered, unpredictably malevolent, ideologically-motivated, and even plain plank-stupid devils-in-waiting. The queen is dead? Next, please!
As to the actual funeral, I was very struck by the observation made on the radio by a thoughtful vicar that, if you subtract the bells and whistles of the royal rigmarole, the queen got much the same ceremony as any other Anglican. Now, as it happens, I have been to few Anglican funerals: the religious members of my family are Baptists, and most other sendings-off I have attended have been of that unsatisfying "humanist" variety I referred to in a previous post, Memorial. But there is a solid and reassuring backbone of ritual to the standard Anglican job, as established by the Book of Common Prayer of 1559, and pretty much followed ever since: "ashes to ashes, dust to dust", and all that. Our common, levelling fate was underlined by referring to the grandest personage in the land as "our sister Elizabeth": a nice touch, I think.
Of course, it was the bells and whistles that attracted the most attention. You can hardly ignore the military aspect of royalty, for example. It seems that the regal equivalent of the naughty step, as applied to Harry and Andrew, is that you're not allowed to dress up in your fancy uniform any more: ironic, really, these two being the only senior royals to have seen active service in a real shooting war. Mind you, the fanciest ceremonial get-ups of all probably belong to the stern drum and trumpet majors of the cavalry regiments, like my own great-uncle Jim, who joined the 7th Dragoon Guards in 1907 as a 14-year old bugler, straight out of a Liverpool orphanage. And, of all those present, you surely had to feel most sympathy for the bandsmen of the Coldstream Guards, marching along at a precise 75 steps per minute whilst playing Beethoven's Funeral March No. 1 (actually not by Beethoven, apparently), faultlessly and on repeat like some interminable "on hold" recording. I started to learn the trumpet myself, a long time ago, and don't know where anyone finds enough puff for that.
We should also spare a thought for those human mules, the 142 Royal Navy ratings who manoeuvred the state gun carriage around the two-mile obstacle course from Westminster Abbey to (or rather through) Wellington Arch. I must admit that I was disappointed when it transpired that the orb, sceptre, and crown were very firmly fixed to the coffin lid; sensible, I suppose, but somehow it detracted from the achievement. I had imagined the army escort might have been trained to catch the orb, in particular, if it rolled off going up Constitution Hill. The whole exercise reminded me of the days when the Royal Tournament was prime-time TV, and two Naval teams competed to transport a field gun across a real obstacle course constructed inside the Earls Court Exhibition Centre; never mind your Strictly or Bake Off – that was proper television!
Thank goodness it's all over now, though, and we can stop listening to media types basking in their own gravity, and their ability to utter sepulchral platitudes and obsequious non sequiturs, seamlessly, for hours on end. Enough! I suppose all that remains is for us plebs to get used to having a series of kings, again, assuming the younger ones still want the gig. In time there'll be new stamps, new banknotes and coins, new passports, all that. It seems that it's possible that the Union itself may now be approaching breaking strain. Oh, well; that will be a big mistake, I think, but there's no point arguing with an angry Scot. And even if republican sentiment is not yet in the ascendant, some reluctance to continue paying out of the public purse for this over-populated, fantasy-world soap opera will surely be growing, especially among the young. A "bicycling monarchy" may yet be in our future, and who wouldn't enjoy that? I, for one, would happily cough up for the biggest and best ceremonial bike available.
So, will that do, Sooty? I think that's all I've got. [gratified nodding] But do follow the link to Samuel West doing the speech "Upon the king..." from Henry V, it's pretty good. It seems that Shakespeare was rather obsessed by royalty – some idiotic snobs think he must therefore have really been a royal, or at least some attendant lord, and not just some nobody actor bloke from nowhere – but then he did witness the transition from the triumphant reign of a popular queen to that of a somewhat remote king with some strange obsessions, from witchcraft to an inexplicable urge to unite the crowns of England and Scotland. [ironic squeaking!] What's that you say, Sweep? Plus ça change? Heh... I had no idea you could squeak French!
I promise to DO MY BEST —
To do my duty to God and the Queen,
To keep the Law of the Wolf Cub Pack,
and to do a good turn to somebody every day.
16 comments:
Thanks for the wonderful read.
... and I had feared already that this ultimate pomp and circumstances, that glued half of earths population to the TV (a figure of almost Trumpish quality), had slipped your attention.
Good that it did not.
The tone on this topic was set for me with A.L. Kennedy's guest article on national mourning after the death of the Queen in the Süddeutsche Zeitung. But then, she's Scottish, isn't she?*
When I came to my physiotherapist last week, I head to learn that his wife was glued to the TV since the beginning of the broadcast, commented expertly on the skills of different military units and, not to forget the driver catafalque... and she planned to stay in front of the screen until broadcasting ended.
Mind you, I am not completely insensitive when it comes to all things Queen: her visit to my hometown Munich and the rumors, that she dropped in to unexpected tea time visits in her subjects homes, led my mother to a still remembered statement: I *had* to acquire table manners, 'cause the queen could come for dinner with us... (But then, decades later I found myself on a table with a Secretary of State in Sri Lanka, with a borrowed tie... but that's another story. Good that my table manners were impeccable, for a Republican, that is...)
And another thing connects me with her and her fellow Majesty, Margarete of Denmark: Not long after the funeral, I contracted Covid. So you see, monarchy reaches directly in our lives, regardless if we want it or not...
* The original article does not seem to exist in the web, so here is the link to the German one: https://www.sueddeutsche.de/kultur/queen-nationale-trauer-kritik-1.5656830
Markus,
I'm glad it made sense beyond these shores! I did think, shall I bother? But blogs require feeding, and I *did* promise HRH to do my best ;)
Hope the elbow is on the mend now BTW!
Mike
Mike,
it certainly does make sense. Thanks for the link to the wonderful Henry V - I will listen to it a third time before I lay my body of a wretched slave to a good night's rest.
(Having visited London with the family in 2019 and seen Othello in Regents Park, you can assume a certain predilection for language, author and theatre)
The elbow gets better every week, but there is still a 10° deficit in stretching: not a problem when working, but uncomfortable for longer cycling tours. Extended training in the gym and physiotherapy should help, I am optimistic.
Markus
Mike,
While I never had the pleasure or honor of meeting the Queen, I always had nothing but respect for her. And I enjoyed watching the pageantry displayed for her funeral.
I have never owned a dog or ridden a horse, but once upon a time long ago, I attended tea with Eleanor Roosevelt (and remember none of it).
So it goes…
Tyler
Tyler,
Well, I suspect these things may look better from afar. The trouble is, we're a country in decline from a formerly massive world role, in danger of becoming a theme park... The royalty obsession among readers of the Daily Mail and its like is bonkers, frankly.
Mike
Her Maj waved at me and my brother as she drove past our street sometime in the late seventies. [At least my memory tells me she waved…] I remember being quite excited.
My mother, a republican, watched almost the entire funeral. It was great TV I thought.
Stephen.
Stephen,
Would have been better TV if the Navy had had to disassemble the gun carriage, etc., and get it across a real obstacle course, without losing the crown.
Mike
Ha ha Mike. [I had forgotten about the Royal Tournament. We always watched it on TV.]
Stephen.
I have been amused at the "let's get rid of the monarchy!" commentary out of the UK of late. You wanna try presidents? They're even more expensive, and a lot worse, but BY ALL MEANS I have a few spares you could swing by and pick them up whenever.
Chsterton's Fence applies here in spades.
amolitor,
Exactly! There's talk of abolishing the House of Lords, too, which clearly does need some serious reform (linked to the corrupting ability of PMs to put people in there as a reward for even more corrupting political donations), but is not self-evidently doing a bad job.
Mike
Am glad you referred to Henry V's "Upon a king" speech. My only exposure to the play, prior to your link, had been obtained from Larry Oliver's film made for morale boosting purposes during WW2. A heavily edited verson of the speech was given by Olivier in that film and, despite the editing, the gist came across and resonated with me. I now know the actual speech in the Shakespeare original is harder and longer and, obviously, Olivier had given an abridged and easier version for the benefit of we plebs. Thank Gawd he did, squire, else I would have been lost!
I do agree with you about the relative benefits of a constitutional monarchy, although the fawning and deference is unattractive. But as a political mechanism, it seems to work better than elected presidencies (see Trump, for example)
In your reference to the Queen visiting Stevenage, I have a memory of standing on the London Road in Knebworth, alongside other kids, waving a flag as she passed by in her Roller. I did not know the memory was of 1959 until you mentioned it.
The theme of memory seems to occur frequently one way or another in your blogs. I wonder whether this correlates with your previous role as a librarian/archivist, or whether it might just be me seeing coincidence where there is none.
PaintingWithNumbers,
Knebworth 1957? Do I know you? Have I asked you that before?!
As for memory, funnily enough an old friend remarked recently that my memory for past events was, in his view, exceptional, bordering on the freakish... How far that trait pre-selected me for a career in libraries, or how far a career in libraries enhanced it is anybody's guess!
TBH I think it's a common experience that as you get older the past looms larger and gains in significance. The nearer you get to the end the clearer the "story" gets, I suppose: so *that's* what that meant!
Mike
Hi Mike,
You don't remember me. I was in your form for the first year of my enrolment at Allyene's Stevenage. The year of her Maj's visit to Stevenage was 1959, not 1957!
The past may be a foreign country, but it can also be a fascinating place, though the food and drink there ain't so good as what's available in France.
PaintingWithNumbers,
Of course! I'm sorry -- I remember now not remembering you... We exchanged emails barely three months ago. Good memory for the past, less so for recent events, it seems. Ominous...
Mike
Got to disagree with you re monarchy. The Irish and Germans get on fine with their presidents - indeed, in the case of Michael D. Higgins, what's not to like about having a poet as your head of state? The problem, as with the US and France, is where your head of state is also your chief executive. Meanwhile the "hereditary principle" says to the rest of the population "feck off, plebs, you're never going to be head of state even if I'm totally useless." It shores up other hereditary inequalities, such as the fact that a quarter of the UK's largest landowners simply imherited their holdings, while encouraging deference based on birth. So - off with their heads.
Martyn,
OK, you're right, line 'em up!
Mike
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