Dieu et Mon Droit

 

On a wall of my mother’s apartment hangs an off-white frame holding a slightly larger-than-normal certificate. Like millions of similar documents, some of the wording is printed, and underlined spaces are filled in with neat calligraphy. It isn’t until you start reading the text that you realize this isn’t your average award. The printed text starts, “Our good friend…” with the name “Dwight D. Eisenhower, President of the United States” filled in. Some more text prattles on about diplomatic relations and responsibilities, and my father’s name gets inked in at some point. Dated in 1959, The Crown has accepted the credentials of a young Vice Consul to serve in Aden, representing America in a sandy part of England’s fast-diminishing empire.

As befits any good English drama, the best part is left to the end. An oversized signature at the bottom reads “Elizabeth R,” with the curl of the final letter extending several inches. While no red ribbon or wax seal finalizes the document like the Magna Carta, it still makes a stunning visual. My family never had the gumption to give it the “real signature” test, you know the one where you wet your finger and just ever-so-slightly go over the tiniest part of the writing to see if the ink bleeds. But if I had to guess, given the time, the way the world worked then, and a slight fade to the ink, I think it’s the real deal.

This is merely one of millions of such connections between Queen Elizabeth II and the rest of the world. With her death yesterday, there will be no more signatures, flowers to receive from curtsying children, or handshakes to new Prime Ministers. The physical manifestation is gone; what then the legacy?

All eyes are now on her first son, King Charles III. The overall opinion is, like English weather, overcast and slightly misty. It seems that given his druthers, he would turn Buckingham palace into a giant wind farm and organic flower nursery. To use the business parlance, he has had the longest runway to prepare for the job, so perhaps he has taken to heart some of the lessons about sacrifice and service, lessons notably absent from his marriages. It’s tough to rally behind a man who dumped his vivacious, stunningly beautiful, and immensely popular first wife for a mistress (who was cheating on her own husband) whose every dour smile was an advertisement for bad British dentistry.

While The Queen may not have done the best job with heir number one, she certainly made sure that heir number two wouldn’t make the same mistakes. As the story goes, William had regular tea time with Granny while he was in secondary school at Eton—a few minutes’ drive when Her Majesty spent the weekend at Windsor Castle. I’m sure there was a little trepidation as William picked commoner Kate for his bride, but she had a few more years in the real world to combat the late Diana’s naivety. When you add a practiced smile that showed off the finest of British dentistry and a brood of three adorable children, the “Firm’s” future looks bright.

But what of the legacy for me?

A few years after graduating college (with a degree distinctly signed in autopen), I was traveling in England and eventually met up with a fraternity brother for a weekend in London. Walking along Whitehall, we were stopped by barricades in front of the large, vaulted gate that leads to the Horse Guards Parade Grounds. Crowds had assembled, and we thought that maybe there was some ceremonial parade about to take place; if we were in luck, there would be a bonus of fully polished pomp and circumstance. To our left applause broke out as three Rolls Royce custom limousines slowly approached. One limo’s oversized glass windows gave us a clear view of a small woman sitting with complete poise and gazing pleasantly, but impassively, to those surrounding her. It was, of course, Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith.

It may have been sheer happenstance, but it was about as perfect a moment as possible. While merely a microscopic legacy, those few seconds personified a near-flawlessly executed seven-decade reign dedicated to serving her people and country.

Thank you, ma’am. God save The King.

© 2022 Alexander W. Stephens, All Rights Reserved