QUEEN: Royal love scandal toppled British crown to fall on Elizabeth's head

To enjoy such existence at the uplands of celestial bliss on earth maybe the kind of public funded lifestyle power craving politicians aspire to enjoy in this birth when they dream of establishing family dynasties to rule the land in perpetuity.

But perpetual good fortune does not surround ordinary mortals with an impenetrable aura merely because they perpetually gloat over winning tribal wars or opening public lavatories at city centres.

Nay, it is exclusively reserved for those extraordinary individuals blessed by the gods, ordained by the Fates and forged by their karmic actions helped, no doubt, by a propitious birth but not solely depended on it; as has been the singular case of Elizabeth II, Queen of the United Kingdom, Supreme Governor of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith. She marked a historic royal milestone this week when she became the longest serving monarch of England, surpassing her great great grandmother Queen Victoria’s record of 63 years on the British Throne and as the longest serving female sovereign of the world exactly at 1630 GMT on Wednesday.

Sixty three years ago, a young girl on a wild life safari holiday in the bush of Africa was awoken from her tree top bed in Kenya to be gently told by her husband that her father had closed his eyes upon the world and that she was now the Queen of England. Hardly had she time to react to the death of her beloved papa in sorrow when exacting duty summoned her to brave her tears and adopt the stiff upper lip to hear the traditional refrain: ‘The King is dead. Long live the Queen’. She was only 26. And, like Cleopatra, still in her salad days.

And as she left her Kenyan residence Santar Lodge to embark upon her voyage to the sceptred isle of Britain to step ashore as sovereign, little did she realise that she was leaving behind her the carefree happy youth in the summer of its blossom forever buried in the dark continent that was Africa where even the wild are born free to follow their star. Instead with the crown of Britain placed on her dainty head with a thud, and the immense responsibility of reigning over millions of peoples of different nations falling simultaneously upon her brow, she was to be sheathed in royal armour and her natural span of life would henceforth be strictly regimented as royal protocol mercilessly demanded.

She was not only Queen of the United Kingdom; she was also Queen of Ceylon. And Queen of Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Pakistan. She also became Head of the Commonwealth of Nations, a position she still holds. She is still Queen of Jamaica, Barbados, the Bahamas and over 10 other nations.

But Elizabeth Alexandra Mary was not born to be queen. When she was born, her uncle was the Prince of Wales, the heir to the throne and her father Bertie was second in line. It was considered unlikely that Bertie would inherit the monarchy for his elder brother the debonair Prince of Wales, Edward was in the prime of youth, a known flirt and a thief of hearts. However, he was expected to marry soon as royal tradition dictated and produce the heir that would take the House of Windsor forward. Elizabeth was third in line but even that placing was dependent on a boy being born to her family and she was hardly even considered to be in the running.

But fates have an uncanny way of knocking off the skittles that stand in the way of their chosen seed. Upon the death of Elizabeth’s grandfather, her uncle became king and assumed the name of Edward the VIII but soon decided that his love for an elder American woman twice divorced, and Catholic to boot, was greater than his desire to be king and defender of the Christian protestant faith; and he gladly gave up the crown to marry the woman he loved. His sudden abdication which shocked the British nation and the world paved the way for the reluctant Bertie to occupy the throne of the then far flung British Empire upon which the sun never set. Her father died at the early age of 56. Suddenly the girl whom no had one had seriously thought of as a possible queen of the realm, was catapulted to the throne of Britain.

Sixty-three years performing a vital role in being the pivotal head of the constitutional monarchy of Britain has been no mean feat. This is especially so when the role had not been one of choice; and not one of birth alone either but one which had been thrust upon her by the hand of Fate.

But while the world admires her for her dedication to her royal duties and for the royal poise and style with which she scrupulously discharges them; and while many envy her for the seemingly pampered royal lifestyle she leads, what most forget is that beneath all the royal regalia she is shrouded in, is a human being subject to all “the thousand and one natural shocks that all flesh is heir to”.

No fort nor moat, no castle wall nor turret guarded night and day by an order of knights can keep inveigling sorrow from laying siege to the human heart; and Elizabeth, Queen of England though she maybe, is no exception. Though wealth and opulence may swamp her in luxury, though a battalion of chamber maids maybe at her beck and call and treat as commands her every wish, though a host of ladies-in-waiting may swab her in cotton wool and dip her in asses’ milk, none can soften the pain or ease the hurt with incense and myrrh and make it cease. Sorrow comes ever scarlet to the royal breast as blood red as the bloodiest rose that ever blew unseen in the unknown hearts of her 64 million subjects. Queen Elizabeth is no different, no stranger to tragedy. But unlike the masses who can give vent to their suffering and even weep in public impromptu, she must make an appointment to keep her tryst with tears.

Her own marriage to Prince Phillip though it has lasted 67 years has not been without strain. The disastrous mismatch of her eldest son Charles with Diana ended in acrimony followed by divorce and finally, amidst scandal which rocked the Royal House of Windsor, ended in the tragic death of the princess. In a speech to mark her 40th year as queen, she described 1992 as her annus horribilis, horrible year. It saw the breakup of her second son, Andrew’s marriage to Fergie and the divorces of her only daughter Anne from her husband mark Phillip. Ten years later, her mother and her sister both died.

But through it all while storms whirled around her and threatened the existence of the Royal family itself, she never wavered but remained as steady as the Rock of Gibraltar. She saw through the tempest and emerged from it without a spot or blemish on her character or a ruffled tress on her head to fly the flag for her country.

It is not to the queen but to this extraordinary human being, so blessed but yet so denied, that the world must pay homage. She is a living role model for politicians to emulate. Whilst they have chosen their vocation politics out of their own free will and loudly proclaim that their mission is to serve the people, see how they behave once elected. Compare that with the way the Queen, denied choice in the matter, still chose to serve her people diligently and still reigns without missing a beat.

And on Wednesday while Britain celebrated her landmark record, what was she doing. At her desk, attending to her royal duties as usual. To those Lankan politicians who would have erected pandals, held felicitation ceremonies throughout the country and celebrated for weeks on end at public expense had they achieved such a record, let that be to them another worthy lesson to emulate. Take an inspiring leaf from her book of life, not a glittering jewel from her crown of queenship. Long may
she reign.

(Next week in sunday punch: how the fates nobbled Victoria’s rivals to make her queen)