I am by no means a committed Royalist but I do enjoy the sense of history and tradition that the Royal Family embodies, and I am fascinated by how that plays out for the public, particularly sartorially. I’m sure growing up in Canada influenced my feelings of respect for the Queen and all that she represented. I woke up too late to watch the Queen’s funeral service this morning, so I set my laptop on the table as we ate breakfast and we watched the procession from Westminster Abby to Wellington Arch. Surprisingly, the five year old was entranced by the proceedings and spent all morning riveted to the screen. At one point, I asked him, “What do you like about this?”
“I like watching the crowds,” he replied.
I took a break from watching to do the school bus run, and the transportation of the casket the 25 miles to Windsor coincided with some errands I had to run afterwards, though I did listen on CSPAN to the coverage. I got home in time to watch the committal service at St. George’s Chapel.
The sheer scale of the funeral was awe-inspiring. Of course, I would not expect any less for a monarch, especially one who ruled for seventy years. At one point the commentator mentioned that there were over 4000 military troops participating. All of them moving in unison. It makes the mere 210 people we had to wrangle onstage this past weekend seem like nothing. I’m going to think about this next time I do a show with a big chorus – At least I’m not coordinating 4000+ people to march in step at 75 beats per minute.
So many indelible images for me from today’s funeral:
– The flowers thrown by the crowds onto the hearse as it drove by, many of which survived the drive to Windsor so that the queen pulled into Windsor castle strewn with flowers from her people.
– The corgis, looking freshly shampooed and fluffed. It made me so happy to see the Queen’s faithful companions included in the proceedings.
– The oceans of people who lined the streets. I know there are many who have no use for the monarchy, but there are also so many who clearly were touched by th Queen and made the pilgrimage to see her off.
– The solemn faces of the Royal Family, particularly Prince George and Princess Charlotte. The Queen’s funeral is indeed a solemn state occasion, yet seeing the two children there reminded me that this is also a family affair and the loss of a matriarch is mourned as much as the loss of a Queen. I often thought of attending funerals of my own family and how hard it was to be on display somewhat during the funeral and how after everything we got back to thee house and I just felt so exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. I hope the members of the Royal Family have time to process their grief and rest after all this.
– Also – somewhat superficially, the wide array of black attire and everyone looking so elegant.
– The pallbearers moving so smoothly together that they made it look as if the coffin was gliding on air.
– The Lord Chamberlain breaking his wand of office and putting it on the coffin to be buried with the Queen. That literal break representing so clearly the end of an era was such an embodiment of the ceremonies and symbolism of a state funeral. Also – the fact that this moment, this centuries old tradition was broadcast for the first time today… I mean it certainly makes sense that the breaking of the wand hasn’t been seen by the public before; that fact really highlights how long Queen Elizabeth’s reign was, and also how the current trend seems to be to demystify a lot of the rituals of royalty.
– When they played ‘God Save the Queen” as the casket left Wellington Arch on the way to Windsor Castle, I felt a lump in my throat. Here was the last trip the Queen would make to Windsor Castle, or anywhere, really. Sending her off with the national anthem, the words of which wish for her well-being, felt like a final tribute and gesture of farewell.
All my life, the anthem has been “God Save the Queen”, and it was simultaneously jarring and poignant to hear the congregation sing “God Save the King” at the end of the commitment service. I think that’s when I realized that the Queen was really gone and the weight of the monarchy had passed to her son. When I was growing up, it never occurred to me that the words of the anthem could change. I thought that there was another anthem that was sung for Kings, tucked away somewhere to be brought out when needed. How central the monarchy is to Great Britain that the passing of one person can literally change the country’s national anthem! And, I realized as I listened to the singing of “God Save the King” and watched the face of King Charles, inscrutable yet sad, I realized that, despite the laws of primogeniture being altered recently to allow females to succeed to throne in the order of birth, given the current line of succession – King Charles, to The Prince of Wales, to Prince George – I don’t think it will ever be “God Save the Queen” again in my life time.
It feels almost silly to say, but I’m glad that I got to live through a time when it was indeed, “God Save the Queen”.
This post gave me all the feels – again – about the Queen’s funeral. I was unshakably sad on Monday for all the reasons you list (aside from the clothing; does my fascination with fancy clothing know no bounds – even when everyone is wearing black!). It truly feels like the end of an era. And with her death there is a sadness about the inevitability of change. She was a constant my whole life – indeed the whole lives of my parents, too. And now change, lots of it. Charles will not reign 70 years. It will be King, King, King, and likely never another Queen in my lifetime.
She embodied my grandmother and somehow I think I always felt like a bit of my grandmother (who passed away in 2016) lived on in Queen Elizabeth II.
I was really fascinated by the Princess of Wales and the Duchess of Sussex wearing black versions of dresses that they already wore. It made me wonder if they had them made especially for the funeral? In ten short days? Or they had the clothes ready to go, just in case?
“the inevitability of change” – I so agree with you that this is partly what makes the Queen’s passing so bittersweet.
I’m sorry about your Grandmother.