The good one went on to become queen but did not produce the expected miracles. She lost whatever style she had and wore stiflingly dull clothes. She loved her horses and dogs and sat at soldierly attention during the world’s dullest speeches. (She still had a wonderful smile.) As for the younger sister, she got drunk and fat and came to a bad end.
Now the elder sister, Britain’s Queen Elizabeth, is about to celebrate her diamond jubilee. “Sixty glorious years!” they said when Queen Victoria achieved this same feat in 1897. The bands played, the Union Jack flew, and millions cheered. They will do so again, no doubt, to celebrate an institution so curious and anachronistic that its like scarcely exists anywhere else. That’s because, it is said, Brits love a good show and are sentimental about the royals, and lots of Elgarian pomp and circumstance reminds them of departed glories.
In the interest of full disclosure, this reviewer should state that she was born and grew up in England, has since become an American citizen and is completely convinced of the obsolescence of the monarchy, if only in sympathy with those who have to go on writing about it. How can one possibly argue in favor of it without sounding fawning, deferential or even hagiographic? How can one attempt to show the human side without descending into banalities?
Such thoughts arise in response to two biographies timed to coincide with the diamond jubilee celebrations. Does it help to know that Elizabeth II wears an old coat and rubber boots, keeps her cereal in plastic containers and has compared herself to Miss Piggy? Do we really need this?
There are, of course, paths to understanding the emotional forces that have molded the queen, although neither Andrew Marr, author of “The Real Elizabeth,” nor Sally Bedell Smith, author of “Elizabeth the Queen,” seems interested. This is peculiar, because even a surface examination finds the royals divided by the great chasm between duty and passive (or not so passive) rebellion.
What about Queen Victoria, who kept her successor, the rakish Edward, waiting until he was old and gave him nothing to do, so that he was obliged to fritter his hours away on wine, women and song? Fast-forward to a more recent heir, Edward VIII, the handsome lightweight who gave it all up for an iron-willed charmer and wandered through cafe society looking like a man in lengthy and remorseful contemplation of the path not taken.
Loading...
Comments