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By Philip Terzian
So what can explain the depth of feeling, the palpable sense of loss and regret, in this superpower ex-British colony across the Atlantic at the death of Queen Elizabeth II?
Familiarity has something to do with it. Like most Britons, the great majority of Americans have never known any other British monarch; Elizabeth had met on equal footing with every president since Harry Truman.
Fame, and its cousin celebrity, is a factor as well: Her birth was news during the Coolidge administration; and when, in the middle of the Great Depression, her uncle King Edward VIII abdicated to marry an American, 10-year-old Princess Elizabeth suddenly found herself heir to the throne of the British Empire.
Mention “the British Empire” today and historical arguments ensue. Mention “the queen” and everybody over here knows who you mean.
To be sure, Elizabeth’s many qualities as sovereign are well known — her respect for Britain’s unwritten constitution, her grandeur and grace, her subtle diplomacy, her stewardship of monarchy itself in the modern age — and all will be scrutinized and analyzed in the days ahead. In an era of exceptionally rancorous public discourse, Elizabeth’s private politics (if she had any) were largely a mystery. In Britain, as well as in America, her personal popularity transcended social class as well as partisanship. The Labour Prime Minister Harold Wilson always said that the most rewarding and enjoyable times he spent as premier were his weekly audiences with the queen.
She had seen it all and heard it all — and gained some wisdom along the way — as long as anyone could remember.
