“I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong.”
That pledge, broadcast by the young Princess Elizabeth, from Cape Town, to Britain and the Commonwealth on her twenty-first birthday in 1947, was scrupulously fulfilled by Queen Elizabeth II, unfalteringly and unsparing of herself, over three-quarters of a century, to the last day of her life. There has never been a more perfect paradigm of the term “public servant”.
The passing of the Queen is made more poignant by the fact we so recently celebrated her 70 years on the throne, at the Platinum Jubilee celebrations. Although Her Majesty’s limited participation in the events signalled a decline in her health, hardly unexpected at age 96, we can be grateful, as a nation, that we were able to say a resounding “Thank you” for her decades of service. The outburst of love and gratitude the public manifested on that occasion surprised the Queen; that was typical of her self-effacing character and unassuming view of her role.
During the longest reign in British history, the Queen made more than 150 overseas visits, carried out more than 21,000 public engagements, hosted 112 state visits, gave Royal assent to 4,000 Acts of Parliament and held 180 garden parties attended by more than 1.5 million guests. She conducted more than 650 investitures, despatched 300,000 congratulatory messages to centenarians and met 13 of the 14 American presidents in office during her reign. The Queen was served by 14 prime ministers, the first of whom, Sir Winston Churchill, entered Parliament in the reign of Queen Victoria, and she appointed her fifteenth mere hours before her death.
The Queen’s devotion to duty was based on her perception of her public office as a vocation, accepted by her at the moment of her solemn anointing in Westminster Abbey, and the destiny it imposed upon her. For that reason, even as she became a nonagenarian, there was never any question of her abdicating: a sovereign of the United Kingdom can be separated from the vocation of kingship only by death.
Unfortunately, death separated the Queen from her beloved husband Philip, a loss that darkened her last days. The most poignant photograph of her long reign showed the Queen, alone and masked, seated in isolation in St George’s Chapel at her husband’s funeral, conscientiously observing the pandemic regulations her government had imposed, even though some members of that government neglected to do so themselves. Duty, for the Queen, was intrinsic to every moment of her life.
That life was lived in public, to a greater degree than any previous sovereign, starting with the then record audience of 27 million people in Britain alone who watched her coronation, to the global media focus of the later years of her reign. The Queen never flinched from that media scrutiny: as head of state, she recognised it came with the position. Although, during seven decades on the throne, the Queen never committed the slightest constitutional infraction, in those areas that were her legitimate locus, she was highly active.
Prime ministers valued the advice of a woman who knew, from direct personal experience, more about politics and statecraft than any of her premiers. With the passing of the years she became an ever more unique repository of confidential information, experience and wisdom. Her influence in holding together a fractious Commonwealth was significant: her departure may demonstrate how important she was in cementing together so many disparate nations.
At home, she performed a similar function, whether graciously receiving flowers from children or uniting the country as a family around the television for her Christmas Day broadcast. She was a superb communicator: not in any way slick, but direct and sincere. Her broadcast during the Covid pandemic helped to steady the nation’s nerves.
On the one occasion when the sympathy between the Queen and the nation seemed momentarily frayed, following the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, the passage of time has shown the rights and wrongs of that unhappy episode. A vociferous minority indulged in an emotional spasm, more culturally American than British in character, about which we can now only feel apologetic and ashamed. The Queen continued to display the truly holistic qualities of reticence and dignity, as she did throughout her reign.
The Queen also suffered some disappointments within her family, an experience she shared in common with many British parents. Since the royal family is inseparable from the monarchy, this had some impact on public perception; but most people were able to distinguish between the two closely entwined entities and recognise the untarnished monarchy, vigilantly maintained by Elizabeth II, as the nation’s most fundamental and valuable institution.
The Queen had the constitutional right to be consulted, to encourage and to warn: we may be sure she exercised all three functions with effectiveness and discretion. In a future generation, when the relevant state papers are released to public scrutiny, historians will be able to make an accurate assessment, which is likely to bear out that judgement.
For the national psyche, the death of Elizabeth II is a seismic shock. The majority of people alive today were born in her reign: they have never known any other monarch. Her death comes at a time of national crisis, of financial troubles, unaffordable energy costs, a European war, in the immediate aftermath of a pandemic and coinciding with the advent of a new, untried government. In this ominous climate, the loss of the individual who most symbolised stability and continuity is a further misfortune.
At the time of the Queen’s accession there was optimistic talk of a new Elizabethan age, an era of dazzling achievement and glory. The reality has proved mixed. Under her sceptre, Britain experienced the dissolution of Empire, but also many achievements in science, technology, sport and geopolitics, e.g. victory in the Falklands War. The sovereignty Britain enjoyed at the time of the Queen’s accession was progressively diluted by membership of the European Union for almost half a century, but dramatically restored by Brexit.
Throughout, the Queen served her people tirelessly. Even after the crushing loss of Prince Philip, she fulfilled her duties resolutely. It was fortunate that she was able to spend the last few weeks of her life at her beloved Balmoral. The memories that must have passed through her mind in those last days would have been unique: of conversations with Winston Churchill, her first prime minister, and with countless other world statesmen, now long dead; of far-off countries visited by the most travelled woman in the world, far more varied even than those of her great-great-grandmother Queen Victoria.
Queen Elizabeth II was half Scottish by birth and her death at Balmoral means that her Scottish subjects will be the first to participate in the ceremonies preceding her funeral. Mourning, however, for this exceptional monarch will be global. The Queen’s devoted service was inspired by her Christian faith, a service surely deserving of reward, in the words of the Song of Simeon: “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.”
