There has been a slight confusion over the demands of official mourning. In a constitutional monarchy it means a period of reflection, rather than a shut down. The reflection is both collective and personal and probably the two institutions which have served the monarchy and the public best over these days have been the Church and the BBC.
The BBC has understood its role, even in the precise tone and pace of the announcement of the Queen’s death – slow enough for people to take in, devoid of additional drama or matiness. It sounded like the national broadcaster.
In that role, I was sorry that it felt it had to cancel the Last Night of the Proms, which it could have toned down and which could have been another opportunity for unity and feeling. Imagine the poignancy of the Benjamin Britten arrangement of the National Anthem.
The Church has the advantage of history, language, ceremony and the heart and purpose of the late Queen Elizabeth. The service at St Paul’s Cathedral on Friday was attended by believers and non-believers, but they shared the same profound emotion.
Anglican hymns from Behold, O God Our Defender to The Lord’s My Shepherd, the sublime choristers, the piper’s lament, wrapped the nation in sadness and consolation. It is a simple and obvious point that the Church is rehearsed in sorrow and death. The bells that rang out from the churches on Friday and the services on Saturday spoke to an ancient faith and a modern need for spiritual consolation.
The events of last Thursday called for balm. We registered the ripple of shock across the front benches of the Commons and the sign of the gathering clouds in the statement of “concern” from doctors. I happened to be at a meeting of trustees of the Science Museum in the afternoon, where we discussed the lowering of the flags at Government buildings. Our hearts tightened.
Even in Norfolk, where I live, flags outside bungalows or shops, now fly at half mast.
It is consoling to slip into a pew at the back of a church and bow ones head. There I remembered looking up at the balcony at Buckingham Palace from the public stands at the close of the Platinum Jubilee pageant and wondering if we might see the Queen. And then there she was, momentarily, a small almost ghostly figure with a shooting star smile. I realised that I would be unlikely to see her again.
And I also thought of my father, who died this year. Many have found the Queen’s death part of a tapestry of sorrow. The sight of a coffin, whether draped in the Royal Standard of Scotland or a bouquet is the moment of recognition of death among us. And how brilliantly the ceremonial journey unites Scotland and England.
All this collective feeling has taken place while Westminster politics has been suspended. It has been a bit like hearing birdsong during lock down. Indeed it is the same civil society which comes to the fore. Neighbourliness, community spirit, volunteering, keeping calm and carrying on. It was the NHS which fulfilled the role of the Church last time.
In this period of reflection, it is worth considering that Westminster politics, and the surrounding media circus, is not quite the same as the people. When I edited the BBC’s Today programme, I was always struck by the different conversations in Westminster and in Norfolk. Outside Westminster, particularly outside social media, they were generally more humorous, less judgmental, much less self important.
The crowds who welcomed the Duke and Duchess of Sussex outside Windsor demonstrated that. Perhaps they had not read of the searing rift between the brothers? Or, perhaps they understood the civil society qualities of acceptance and forgiveness. Among Meghan’s accusations against the Royal Family was one that they did not appreciate ambition. It showed a misunderstanding of the institution and its role. The Queen did not represent ambition, or even power, but service. Meghan must see that now and looked to me chastened as she shook hands with mothers and children rather than addressing power conferences. As Queen Mary once said to a relative: “ You are a member of the British royal family. We are never tired and we all love hospitals.”
Those who predicted a kind of national breakdown of grief and widespread instability and anger underestimated the good sense of the people. As Queen Elizabeth one said: The most important contact between nations is usually contact between its peoples.” Let the people speak.
Sarah Sands is a journalist and author. She was editor of BBC Radio 4’s Today programme from 2017 to 2020
All rights reserved. © 2021 Associated Newspapers Limited.