As an American, and a thoroughly middle class one at that, I pretty much have very little use for Britain’s Royal Family. And so I somewhat surprised myself by watching the funeral of Prince Philip yesterday. After all, is there any more outmoded notion to our modern sensibilities than a royal family ordained by God to lead a nation, if only as a mere, yet expensive to maintain, figurehead? Talk about your white privilege.
You can get an argument about this. Indeed, I got one from an otherwise sensible friend of mine. Upon my hearing of my distaste for the House of Windsor, he proceeded to lecture me on how the Royals are inextricably woven into the social fabric of the English people such that it would be unthinkable if they were no more.
Maybe so, maybe no. It just seems to me that notions of royal blood, estates, the divine right of kings and primogeniture have very little place in our time of technological advancement and emphasis on equal rights. For the moment at least. The Arkansas Legislature, lamentably, is still in session. There’s still time for them to attempt to outlaw Federal enforcement of universal suffrage pursuant to their, shall we say, imperfect understanding of the 10th Amendment, and/or make Sunday School attendance mandatory. I put nothing past this assemblage of cretins.
But I digress. So why did I watch the funeral? No real reason I suppose other than I am a history buff and this certainly was a historical event. I am also trained in the music of the English High Church and so I wanted to hear the musical offerings two of which were commissioned by the late prince. Which were quite lovely indeed. Maybe I wanted to see if Harry would take a swing at William. Or if Andrew would get picked up by Interpol during the Recession.
And I was keen on hearing the homily concerning the life of the Duke of Edinburgh. Except there wasn’t one. According to one report, the old boy sensibly detested sermons and requested that none be offered on his behalf.
You have to respect that in a person. After all, as one of the commentators said, HRH had probably given over 5,000 speeches in his career as the Queen’s Consort. Perhaps he found that to be sufficient speechifying for one lifetime, state funeral or no state funeral.
Still it was a remarkable sight. The mourners, all garbed in Bible black, the women in veils, covering their faces and masks, were limited to 30 by the health authorities. Attendees that weren’t living in the same household, sat by themselves. Including the widow herself.
Say what you will about the Royals, it was a sad sight to observe Elizabeth Rex, Her Royal Majesty, and yet an elderly widow nonetheless, sitting by her lonesome at the funeral of her husband of over 70 years in graceful deference to an order issued by the civil authorities. Here in some counties in Arkansas that would be considered yielding to tyranny. According to the Windsors it is evidently the discharge of one’s duty. “Getting on with it,” in one of the late Prince’s favorite expressions.
And there is no doubt that Elizabeth will “get on with it.” This despite the fact that she herself is bent with age. How much longer? Who knows? And when she passes will the Royals be able to maintain their relevancy, however tenuous it may seem to the likes of some of us over here? The Prince of Wales has always struck me as something of a twit. Something that his irascible father manifestly was not. I wouldn’t pick Charles to be the titular head of a 7-11. Perhaps there is a reason that Elizabeth never stepped down from the throne.
The funeral, studded throughout with symbols of power and even grace, was a moving spectacle. The Prince was piped into the church by the Royal Navy. At the conclusion the trumpeters sounded “Final Post” followed by “Reveille” and “Action Stations.” A funeral for a man who loved the military and his attenuated career in it. A war hero who gave up his military career to be the Queen’s Consort. Which is not a bad gig.
I’m glad I watched. Maybe my friend is right. Maybe there will be a Royal Family as long as there is an England. Even if it is an England that no longer rules the seas or produces men like Winston Churchill.
There is no small comfort in ritual in the midst of a pandemic. Elizabeth Rex wore a mask beneath her veil even unto the funeral of the man who was described by many as her only love. Donald Trump pulled his mask off-Mussolini like-upon his release from the hospital after he was struck down from COVID.
God save the Queen.
