The Unofficial British Royal Family Pages

Wednesday 28 July 2004

Royal Humor: The Unreal Reality of Monarchy

The institution of the British monarchy is old-fashioned and outdated, the republicans bark. The tradition of an unelected sovereign head of state is the true heart of the nation, yelp the monarchists. By gum, it's a royal sight to see! whinny the innocent foreign tourists. Monarchy is money, the nation of shopkeepers purr. So who is right?

All of the above! Of course monarchy, with such hallowed traditions as those found variously in Black Rod, Swan Upping, gilded coaches, footmen in livery, Yeomen of the Guard, the Maundy Thursday royal offering, and the giving of knighthoods to crusty rock stars, is bound to look a bit quaint. No one but Michael Jackson wears knee breeches and gold braid anymore.

But by the same token, a president in cowboy hat and boots seems pretty rustic, next to a monarch. Elizabeth II's ancestors owned castles, and stepped on elegant cloaks thrown in the mud. George Bush's owned cattle, and stepped in mud. So comparing a bully pulpit to a throne is letting the sunlight eclipse the moonglow.

Mr. Bush (or Mr. Blair or Mr. Spock, for that matter) would look a fool wearing a crown and riding in a golden coach to his next legislative session. Any popularly elected official would. George Washington, that most pragmatic of men, knew this, and as president declined titles and pomp. In such romantic glories only the Elphbergs of Zenda, the Pendragons and Caesars and Windsors of the world shine. Likewise, Elizabeth II would be dimmed if she went out canvassing for votes, or went bowling at the local union hall to show her solidarity with the working folks.

There's glitter and glamour and spectacle in monarchy. It's something special, all right. It furnishes us all the usual suspects of historical re-enactment: establishes solemn ritual and cultural continuity, symbolizes ceremonial rites of passage, gives that supreme sense of what is fitting and proper, provides a unique lofty standard for the rest of the world. It's a mental and emotional placeholder for our easily distracted national attention spans; a collective link to eternity. That's powerful stuff for us masses. Makes us gawk, it does. And we're right to do so.

In Britain monarchy is managed by honoured, rigid, unchanging protocols. This is how it's done, the heralds proclaim. This is the sovereign! Stand in the present day, o ye of little faith, open the door to the past, and gaze back into the ancient time of King Arthur. And mind those swords. They be not wrought of cheap plastic. Disney World this isn't. It is the real deal.

And splendid it is, all the pageantry of a Royal Coronation or Wedding, the State Opening of Parliament, or even a royal garden party. Like any picnic, it brings out us ants - ah, tourists - by the thousands. We pay money to see it and carry home happy remembrances of it. It makes good video clips for the news and snapshots for the grandkids. Beats reality TV any day. Whole industries thrive on monarchy and gain much of their living by it: porcelain manufacturers, television networks, caterers, museums, musicians and orchestras, tour guides, publishers of glossy magazines and coffee-table books, tabloid newspapers, comedians. Of course, we the people would come out to see another royal beheading, too. But do we really know why we swarm toward the royal panoply?

Since we do, it must mean there's honey in there, somewhere. A royal payoff, in a regal presence and aura. In a sense of history, real and personified. Awesome, dude! Yet soon, like everything else handled by humanity, the glorious coinage minted in royal spectaculars tarnishes in our grubby hands, and we depart Camelot for Wal-Mart. There, all the commercial ticky-tack of monarchy that puts money in shopowners' pockets: flags, T-shirts, commemorative china, tea towels, souvenirs, all the way to autographs, letters, and royal address books. It's the True Cross. Nobody would press forward to get a lock of Tony Blair's hair, or snip pieces off Vladimir Putin's coat, or touch Jacques Chirac for the scrofula. We royal fans buy tidbits of monarchy, trade them on eBay, store them in our attics for the police to ferret out. Not to mention all the money we spend on airfare to London, hotels near Buck Palace, flowers for Diana. Whom would we hallow, if not monarchy? Some tawdry movie star? There's no substance behind that illusion.

So these are the good bits about monarchy. It resonates far beyond its native sphere; it gives splendor for money; it fuels the economy, it even comes down to earth now and then, and sprinkles some magic dust so we can all fly alongside for a moment. Democracy is a chartered accountant; monarchy a matinee idol. Democracy drones on in monotones of 'yea' or 'nay.' Monarchy rings bells and blows whistles.

So what is wrong with monarchy? Plenty, bray the republicans. All that razzle-dazzle may make money, but it costs money, too. Castles with footmen to hold back the wild dogs and swim the moat to retrieve the Tupperware ain't cheap. Royal walkabouts, the Queen's Flight, boats, trains, police, Pimm's, polo injuries - those cost so much, might as well abolish the whole lot, right now. So say the children of Cromwell.

And damme, besides all that deficit spending, monarchy still has powers, despite all the efforts of the axemen, budgetary and otherwise, down the centuries. To be consulted, to advise, to warn, to rule. Not cost-effective, that. Not the sort of centralized management we had in mind. Next thing we know, if we let 'em have their druthers, it's off with heads, six husbands, Defending Faiths, marrying divorcees, hammering Scots, declaring war on (fill in the blank)...

Oops. Wait a minute. Reality check. Is that only the prerogative of monarchy? It's not very likely the present lot are going to up and do any of that Tudorish stuff. Not even their Hanoverian ancestor did, actually. His Cabinet ministers pushed through the Stamp Act, et al. Being mad as a porphyric hatter, evidently, monarchy just went along with those jolly court jesters, and then damned the resulting tea party. Pinching those loud, vulgar colonists right in the pocketbook. Works every time.

And wasn't it a prime minister who declared war on a small country in the South Atlantic? Not a high-handed career move reserved to monarchy, then. Same with taxation, unpopular laws, seizure of property, imprisonment without trial, suspension of civil liberties, torture of prisoners, genocide, general bloodiness, and all the rest of that grinding, oppressive, absolutist drill. A president or prime minister or F�hrer can grant us such favors just as easily as a monarch. Far more easily. Even a Congress or Parliament can't stop an Act of the people, for the people, and by the people. Or mob rule, holocaust, la revolucion. But monarchy can and should say, Don't you think this has gone a bit too far? Is everyone in this classless society equal to nothing, as in Animal Farm? Can't some rise above the common herd?

Abolishing monarchy doesn't mean it would go away and get on a bicycle and give its tiaras to charity, either. It would go on being rich, just like the heads of theocracies, oligarchies, democracies, etc. And we can bet those lifestyles would still be famous, and those castles still royal. But wouldn't the plastic swords come out of the kit-bag then! Monarchy might not rule, exactly, if it was made civilian, but all sorts of faux 'royal' theme parks and restaurants and coffee stores would spring up overnight. How much would shopkeepers rake in then, with 'By Ex-Royal Appointment' above the door of Ye Olde SuperShoppe? If you've been to a Renaissance Faire, you know what would happen. Charles himself (or perhaps Anne) leading the grand parade.

And it just wouldn't be the same, for the junior managing director of the Formerly Royal Duchy Biscuit Company to wear Robin Hood tights and an upholstery codpiece, to shout 'Huzzah!' and declare the Faire open. The real can't be surreal; the Prince can't be a frog. It would be like going to Paris for fast food. The chain restaurant is clean and bright and efficient, the burger's hot and fast. But in the five-star dining room up the street the food is slow and magnificent, served on the best china under the exalted candlelight of the stars.

Is monarchy good? Yes. Is monarchy bad? Also yes. Is it the best political system to have? For most of us, not since 1776. Is it the best system for lasting cultural and historical richness? Verily so.

They don't write fairy tales about premiers or presidents. There's magic in monarchy, and we gotta believe. Clap our hands, sing 'God Save the Queen' with all our might, with eyes closed against the tears of wonder. Suspend our disbelief. Trust in the paradox of a real illusion that has not been cheapened by time. And make it real in the heart. As all lovers of fantasy know, it's as real as we are.

We need not worry about it getting too real. The royal breed of Corgi that is monarchy doesn't bite much nowadays, or tug swords out of stones, or require to be leashed with Magna Cartas or Declarations of Independence, or call itself virginal, absolutely. So we who trained it over the millennia, and collared it with jewels, and bought it nice kennels, can sit back now, sip a cuppa Royal Blend, turn up the triumphal fanfare, and enjoy the greatest royal show on earth, with all its drama, folly, humor, whimsy, pathos, tragedy, and jollity. It's a brilliant illusion unfolding. And wow, is it real. 

- Mel Whitney