I hadn’t planned to spend my day that way. I didn’t set my alarm or even imagine that I would do more than catch the highlights on the news later in the day. But I happened to wake a little before 5 a.m., so I thought I’d briefly tune in to CBC’s coverage of the state funeral for Queen Elizabeth II.
I was immediately swept into Westminster Abbey’s west door amidst the international dignitaries being ushered to their assigned straight-backed bench or chair. The seating chart for 2,000 surely had been choreographed by someone with a PhD in protocol.
The world’s heads of state each had their preeminent moment as they entered the nave and made their way past the black marble tomb of the Unknown Warrior. Once seated, they became a mere pixel in the sea of black that lined the aisles. Just as it should be.
The arrival of Liz Truss, the UK’s newly elected Prime Minister, seemed an anachronism in this ancient, staid funerary rite. Her official role in the government had begun only two days before Elizabeth II’s death. There was much flurry around her entrance, meant to give her the honour her station demands as she made her way to the podium to speak. She had no patina of wisdom, which sometimes comes later to a PM. Was I the only one who felt relieved she read but a few scriptural passages and took her seat?
We and the seated guests heard a royal concert—the ethereal music of the pipe organ and choir. Incisive, clear tones of a military fanfare by trumpeters. Most poignant of all was the queen’s personal piper playing a traditional lament, “Sleep, Dearie, Sleep.” It had been his job to awaken her with bagpipes below her window at Balmoral every morning. Presumably she heard him play on her last day of life.
The lens of a skilled camera crew can bring magical fluidity to day-long rituals. They took us into the high, gothic arches to view the precision ballet taking place below. Then close enough to a pallbearer’s face to grasp the weight of the lead-lined casket resting heavily on his shoulder. Viewers were kept at a discreet distance from the family in mourning. As it should be.
I was mesmerized for hours and surprised at the emotion I felt unexpectedly throughout the day, enough so that I’ve been pondering what Elizabeth II meant to me. I’m not one who normally “follows” the royals through their weddings, their throne speeches or their travels. Frankly, I’ve questioned the exorbitant expense of a monarchy.
But the ceremonial pomp did not feel superfluous to me that day. Throngs of people had traveled great distances to say goodbye to their queen. Sometimes, for the people’s sake, the farewell rituals for a queen need to match the magnitude of their projections she carried. Queen Elizabeth II was a magnificent carrier of projections, and worthy of the mantle. I don’t doubt for a minute that she felt the weight of the crown every day when the bagpipes sounded.
When I first moved from the U.S. to Ontario with my Canadian husband, Paul, I struggled to embrace the idea of a monarch in England being sovereign over this country. She had no real power here or in the UK, for that matter. “What’s her purpose?” I asked. Paul observed that ideally a constitutional monarchy has a monarch who is a titular figure with a ceremonial presence but not one who is involved with the workings of the government. This kind of monarch is the figure who people can idealize or demonize in a larger-than-life way. “It allows the prime minister and members of parliament to be ordinary people who go about their duties without getting too inflated about their post,” he said.
It occurred to me that in the United States we are no different in our need to project larger-than-life positive and negative traits onto our leaders. In the absence of a monarch, we force our presidents to carry most of those projections, instead. How often in the presidential campaigns the candidate becomes larger-than-life, an object of intense admiration or intense dislike. It can have detrimental effects on the way our leaders behave and how our government is run.
For as long as I can remember, people have characterized Elizabeth II as a woman of “high integrity.” Those who were introduced to her often commented that she had a surprising down-to-earth manner and showed a genuine curiosity to learn something about them. Yet she apparently understood her titular role as a monarch, as a recipient of projections from people around the world. She never wavered from bearing the weight of it. There is beauty in that.
And there is a void in the world whenever someone who is larger-than-life dies. Whether we know it or not, it requires of us to either take back our projections or find someone new to carry our intense admiration or intense dislike.
It is said bagpipe music is akin to the mournful sound made by the keening of a human voice. The Queen’s piper also played a plaintive melody as her casket was lowered into the crypt beneath Windsor’s chapel later that day. I like to think he was symbolically awakening her to whatever new day is beyond. Where she no longer bears the weight of her crown.
~ K L Kurtz
*Images of Queen Elizabeth II are from Canada postage stamps commemorating her 80th birthday April 26, 2006.
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