One of the advantages of longevity is that you eventually outrun everything and everyone else – friends, family, critics, even history. And so it is with Queen Elizabeth II, who began her reign as a 25 year old in the blush of postwar promise and ended it as the world’s sovereign and matriarch with her passing Sept. 8 at Balmoral Castle in Scotland at age 96. The death of England’s longest reigning monarch (70 years) begins a period of mourning in Great Britain that will be crowned by her funeral, led by her eldest son and heir, now King Charles III.
In a statement, he said:
“The death of my beloved Mother, Her Majesty the Queen, is a moment of the greatest sadness for me and all members of my family.
“We mourn profoundly the passing of a cherished Sovereign and a much-loved Mother. I know her loss will be deeply felt throughout the country, the Realms and the Commonwealth, and by countless people around the world.”
Subsequently, he has named his elder son and heir, William, Prince of Wales, and William’s wife, Catherine, Princess of Wales. (They will also be known as the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and Cambridge. Catherine will be the first person to use the title Princess of Wales since her late mother-in-law, Diana.)
Elizabeth II was, of course, never supposed to be queen. Her nervous, stuttering father – Albert, known as Bertie – and his wife, the ebullient and steely former Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, had expected to live their lives quietly in the shadow of Bertie’s glamorous, charismatic older brother, Edward VIII – affectionately raising their two girls, the shy, horse-crazy Elizabeth and the romantic, rebellious Margaret, in a tight circle that Bertie called “we four.”
But Edward VIII could not imagine reigning without the support of “the woman I love,” the twice-divorced Wallis Warfield Simpson, and so abdicated to marry her in 1936 as Great Britain and the world struggled through the Great Depression and faced the specter of World War II. Bertie became George VI and his elder daughter – known as “Lillibet” for her early inability to pronounce “Elizabeth” – became the heir apparent.
Dutiful, dignified and disciplined, Princess Elizabeth was tailor-made for the looming crisis, exhorting her younger sibling on the radio to say goodnight to all the children in Britain whose lives had been upended by war with the soon-to-be catchphrase “Come on, Margaret” and ultimately serving as a mechanic during the war. She was not so dutiful, however, that she did not demand her choice of consort – an obscure Greek-Danish prince, Philip, who as Duke of Edinburgh would become the Albert to her Victoria – a rock who ran the family, modernized the palace system and made some 10,000 appearances on her behalf in a 69-year marriage that ended with his death on April 9, 2021. They were the parents of four children – Charles, Anne, Andrew and Edward – who survive her as do eight grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren.
They should’ve all lived happily ever after, as royal fairy tales go. But real life is not like that. As the 1950s gave way to the social and political upheaval of the ’60s and ’70s, the royal family, with the exception of the Queen Mother Elizabeth, began to be perceived as stodgy, imperious and effete. It’s a view that was underscored by the arrival of Lady Diana Spencer, who as Charles’ long-suffering first wife – Diana, Princess of Wales – would embody the new openness in the ’80s and ’90s. Her death 25 years ago this past Aug. 31 would be a low point for the monarchy and the queen, who appeared to have misread the mood of her people. Even her address to the nation in which she spoke as a mother and grandmother did not persuade all that the monarch was a woman of feeling.
But time really is another country, isn’t it? As a new century and millennium dawned, it finally caught up with the queen’s traditionalism, steadfastness and perseverance. On 9/11 – whose 21st anniversary we will commemorate this Sunday – the queen knowingly reminded us that “grief is the price we pay for love.” Later, amid the Covid lockdown, as Charles, then Prince of Wales, and then Prime Minister Boris Johnson took ill, the queen – isolating with Prince Philip at her beloved Windsor Castle – told her people that “we will meet again,” words of a World War II song that evoked the girl who had exhorted her sister and worked as a mechanic and the nation that had vowed never to surrender.
Time also caught up to her look – the matchy-matchy outfits, the bright, pastel palette and the mysterious, ubiquitous black handbag that all once seemed so out-of-date becoming chic, classic, iconic. (Credit for this goes in part to her dresser-turned-right-hand woman, Angela Kelly.) Time also revealed a heretofore hidden side of her personality — playful, even dramatic — that recalled a young girl who would put on plays for her family with her sister. The queen seemed to parachute into the opening ceremony of the 2012 Summer Olympics, with Daniel Craig’s James Bond playing second fiddle. She trolled President Donald J. Trump by wearing President Barack Obama’s brooch gift to her during Trump’s visit. And at her Platinum Jubilee earlier this summer she provided the gleeful counterbalance to great-grandson Prince Louis’ angst-ridden facial expressions. (One Twitter user waggishly labeled photographs of Louis and the queen “Monday” and “Friday” respectively.)
In one of the celebration’s most poignant moments, the queen had tea with Paddington Bear. As he removed a marmalade sandwich from under his hat, Her Majesty – in a gesture that showed a sovereign is only as great as her graciousness – finally revealed the contents of her handbag, a marmalade sandwich.
When Paddington took his leave, he doffed his hat and said, “Thank you for everything,” – really the only words you need to say in response to a live well-lived.
So thank you, ma’am, for everything.
And one last time, God save the queen.