Let’s make England little again. (Chris Jackson/Getty Images)

In November 1953, Queen Elizabeth set off on her first international tour after her coronation. The voyage would last six months, travel 40,000 miles and visit 13 different realms. Throughout it all, the monarch would have to deal with prime ministers and governors, local politics and constitutional dilemmas, doing her best to avoid the extraordinary array of diplomatic pitfalls which lay in her way.
In the Caribbean, her government had only just ousted the elected prime minister of British Guiana, sparking angry accusations of imperial control. In Australia, a deadly polio outbreak posed a direct risk to her health. In Ceylon, Communist unrest had reached such a level the country’s premier felt he needed to warn the Queen that the visit might need to be cancelled. And in Uganda, Britain’s decision to depose and exile the Kabaka of Buganda, the traditional ruler of the country’s largest kingdom, was still causing ructions. Even in Gibraltar, the final stop of Her Majesty’s grand tour, there were demands from General Franco that the visit be abandoned.
And yet, the entire tour went ahead, millions turned out to catch a glimpse of their new sovereign, and a delighted government back in London felt a sudden rush of confidence about our international standing following the loss of India only a few years earlier.
Last week, the Gallic half of King Charles’s first foreign expedition as monarch had to be cancelled because of the rioting in Paris. And so all he will have to show for his first overseas excursion as King will be a short tour of Germany.
To those of a certain temperament, the contrast between mother and son is more than a little sobering. But rather than lamenting the timidity of modern life or the decline of our national horizons, I say we should cheer them. Charles’s first trip as King might reflect the decline of our global stature, but there is nothing wrong with this decline. It could be a very good thing.
Once you take off the rose-tinted spectacles, the 1953 tour was not quite what it seemed. The objective of the great global jamboree was to “reaffirm the durability of the British Empire”, as Philip Murphy wrote in Monarchy and the End of Empire. The problem was not that it failed in this regard — though of course it did — but that the tour was so successful in every other regard that it blinded the country’s governing elite to the reality of the post-war world.
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