Volume 44, Number 15 · October 9, 1997
Show Us You Care, Ma'am
By Jasper Griffin, Miriam Griffin
No one in Britain had ever witnessed scenes like those evoked by the death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales (to give her for once her correct title); of Princess Diana, as we all incorrectly called her. It was not merely the extraordinary display of public emotion, the mountains of flowers, the avalanches of letters, the queues waiting eight hours to sign one of forty books of condolence, the visible distress of the most unlikely people. Much more startling was the sight of the royal family forced onto the defensive by a tidal wave of public grief; the Queen and Prince Charles accused of lack of emotion, of failing to join the national mood, of stinginess with official signs of mourning. Why was no flag flying at half mast over Buckingham Palace? Why were the royal family secluding themselves at Balmoral, their Scottish estate, instead of letting it all hang out in London? Where were the royal sobs, the hugs, the melting gestures of a grief which they should allow to take its natural course, in front of the cameras? Why had the Queen made no personal statement? The Palace was forced to make one hasty concession after another. Finally a flag was flown, and finally the Queen appeared on television to make the statement that the nation was waiting for. 'Her eyes were red,' people assured each other.
Feature, 740 words
To read the full text of this piece, please choose one of the following options:
|
If you are already a subscriber to the Review's electronic edition, please sign in: |
To subscribe to the electronic edition, please press the button below. |
To purchase access to this article for $3, please press the button below. |