by The Laird o’Thistle
August 15 2004
In a few days, we will mark the seventh anniversary of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales. Cycles of seven are very ancient, and live on in concepts as varied as academic “sabbaticals” and “the seven-year itch.” Moreover, the British inquest into the death of Princess Diana is finally proceeding and presumably nearing completion. So this anniversary provides a good opportunity to look back and take stock of the events of September 1997.
I have never been one of the conspiracy theorists in this case. I cannot conceive that the Princess’s death was anything other than a tragic accident. Nor have I ever been a “Di-maniac” who regards sainthood as somehow insufficient for the late Princess. She was brilliant and fascinating and she was a deeply injured and flawed human being. I have always felt that the tragedy in her relationship with the Prince of Wales was that each was marked by their respective upbringings to have incompatible dysfunctions. In some ways, they were too much alike, too needy, in the wrong ways. By all accounts, their separation and the passage of time were beginning to heal the worst feelings between them at the time of her death, and perhaps the abrupt ending of that process was the biggest part of the public crisis that nearly engulfed the monarchy in the wake of her death.
The events of that week remain strongly etched in the memories of all who witnessed them. But one small bit in that great drama received virtually no comment then, or since. But for me, it was perhaps the most profound moment in the entire funeral happening.
On that funeral day, the gun carriage with the Princess’s coffin set out from Kensington Palace to wind its way through the thronged and silent streets. The only evident escort was the half dozen or so Guards who walked on either side. Whoever conceived the stark simplicity of that procession was a ceremonial genius.
As the gun carriage approached Buckingham Palace the Queen led the members of the extended royal family across the forecourt to stand at the open gates. They all looked grim and perhaps a bit nervous. The Queen Mother looked distinctly ancient, uncomfortable, and detached. But it was as the gun carriage passed those gates that the event that stunned me occurred. The Queen clearly and unmistakably bowed to her former daughter-in-law’s coffin as it went by. No one else among the royals moved. But Her Majesty openly rendered to Diana the sort of augustly understated nod that her top courtiers offer her day by day.
The procession rolled on. Shortly thereafter the young princes with their father, grandfather, and Earl Spencer fell in behind and walked on to Westminster Abbey. The day unfolded in more unforgettable scenes, ending with Diana’s interment on her lonely islet at Althorp. Lord Spencer’s appalling address got the public attention and headlines, but the moment that permanently seared itself into my memory was the Queen’s solemn acknowledgment.
In these summer weeks of 2004, many of us will be watching the Olympic Games from Athens. One of the curious features in the opening ceremonies has always been the fact that when the U.S. team enters the stadium they alone, of the entire world, do not dip their flag in respect to the hosting Head of State. The American flag dips before no living human. Only for the dead is it lowered in respect. By contrast, during Britain’s great ceremonies Americans are shocked to see the Union Flag and other official colors dip so that they are actually laying on the ground as the Queen passes. She, after all, is the ultimate and living symbol of the nation. Everything bows to her. And when the Sovereign dies, the mantle passes fully and immediately to the new King or Queen. Hence, in 1952 the first member of the royal family to greet the young Queen Elizabeth upon her return from Kenya was her aged grandmother, Queen Mary, who drove from Marlborough House to Clarence house specifically to offer her immediate homage to the new Sovereign. “Her old granny and subject must be the first to kiss her hand!”
What so astonished me on the day of Diana’s funeral was the Queen’s momentary act of stepping out of her deeply ingrained persona. Queen Elizabeth was so profoundly formed by, and often so deeply resembles, Queen Mary. And yet, she bowed. For her, I would suggest, that action was far more dramatic than Diana’s many expansive embraces as the “People’s Princess.” It might not have come naturally to Her Majesty, but it was undoubtedly a mindful and sincere honor. And Princess Diana would have known and recognized that. I just wish the rest of the world had noticed.
– Ken Cuthbertson