The Idler: The diamond jubilee

AP

Children identified only as Adam, 6, and Lucy Fergusson, 7, dressed as Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip during a parade through Chichester, England to mark Queen Elizabeth IIs diamond jubilee yesterday. Picture: AP

The diamond is a hard, incorruptible thing, possessed of its own internal purity and clarity. It prevails against whatever may rub against it. How appropriate it is as a symbol of the 60th year of the reign of Britain’s Queen Elizabeth in an age where politicians come and go, tyrants fall, other tyrants take over and everything seems in a state of flux.

The diamond jubilee inevitably focuses anew on the huge anomaly of monarchy in a democratic age. How is it that a hereditary monarch inspires such loyalty across the spectrum, to a degree no politician could hope for?

This applies not only to Britain, but to the overseas dominions where she is head of state. It applies also to the other European monarchies.

Yes, Britain has its Roundheads – mainly members of a self-obsessed chattering class. They are embarrassedly silent at times like this. There also are Roundheads in the dominions. But somehow monarchy ploughs on like an ocean liner.

It’s as if people have an instinctive trust for monarchy. The colonel salutes his queen, not his prime minister. The prime minister defers to her and kisses her hands. This is not promising ground for the emergence of generalissimos and volksleiers.

That’s why they’re turning out in their millions in London.

Halfway back

WE’RE back in the Commonwealth – which is halfway – but once we shared fully in that mystique of monarchy. That clear division between crown and Parliament disappeared in 1961. PW Botha put the finishing touches when he combined the posts of prime minister and president, the advent in SA of “Big Man” government – blue-light convoys and all.

I think I have always understood and empathised with Afrikaner nationalism; likewise African nationalism. Yet it’s tantalising to wonder whether it might have been possible – had 1948 not happened – for SA to progress to full democracy within a Caribbean-style dominion status.

That has to remain conjecture. As the political analysts so succinctly put it: if your auntie had gonads she’d be your uncle.

Old Natal

HOW WELL I remember the day Elizabeth became queen. We were in class and could see the headmaster across the quadrangle, going to each classroom and calling the teacher outside for a brief conversation. After he came to us our teacher told us to get on with our own reading. She took dark glasses out of her handbag and sat at her desk. She was blubbing.

Next we were assembled in the quadrangle and the headmaster gave us the sad news that King George VI had died. So sombre a moment was it that we didn’t even cheer when he next announced a half-holiday.

The news spread like wildfire. When I got home a Zulu gardener solemnly pointed skyward and told us: “The king is in heaven”.

I’m sure there was no Zulu radio transmission in those days.

Back at school next day the music master assembled us again to sing God Save the Queen. It was dead simple, he said. Just substitute “queen” for “king”.

Yes, that was the old Natal.

Strong connections

QUEEN Elizabeth has strong connections with SA, of course. In Cape Town in 1947 she turned 21 and swore her oath of loyalty to the Commonwealth.

I was knee-high to a grasshopper at the time and my memory of the 1947 visit is ostrich plumes in an open Rolls-Royce as it swept by in Maritzburg.

Not too many years later I was in the last intake to swear loyalty to “Elizabeth and her heirs” as we enlisted for national service.

I’ve never seen any reason to renounce it.

Tailpiece

A SOUTH African has over-indulged in the diamond jubilee celebrations. He staggers into a London pub and says: “A pint of jubilee special.”

“I’m afraid you’ve had enough, sir,” comes the reply.

“What? Shicksty years and I’m going for shickshty pints over the shelebrations.”

“I’m sorry, we can’t serve you.”

“Can’t sherve me? Thatsh a dishgrace! Where’sh your patriotism?” He takes a matchbox from his pocket, opens it and taps at it deliberately. Two white ants drop on to the bar counter.

“OK boys, wreck the joint!”

Last word

Royalty is a government in which the attention of the nation is concentrated on one person doing interesting actions. – Walter Bagehot