Almost exactly 10 years ago, Colin Firth starred in the Oscar-winning film The King’s Speech. This film portrayed the personal struggle of King George VI of England, father of Queen Elizabeth, with his lifelong stutter.
In a time when radio broadcasts were as important to the lives of citizens as the internet is today, the younger brother of King Edward VIII was thrust before the microphone as newly crowned king, as Edward was forced to abdicate the throne after his decision to do the unthinkable, marry a twice-divorced American, Wallis Simpson.
The stirring climax of the film occurs in 1939, when the new King George takes the podium to address Britons as they face the prospect of fighting the Nazis on the brink of World War II. His speech begins falteringly but builds steadily. His stutter does not disappear, but in fact becomes an emblem of his strength and resolve, something all Britons need for the conflict ahead.
Fast forward 81 years to the present. George’s daughter Elizabeth II, the longest ruling British monarch in history, steps up to the podium at age 93, and delivers, with impeccable clarity and not a single misstep, what may be the crowning speech of her long career. This speech, delivered last Sunday, is a rallying cry not only for beleaguered Britons, but for citizens of every nation at a time they sorely need it.
Elizabeth speaks of the challenges of the days ahead with the coronavirus: “While we have faced challenges before, this one is different. This time we join with all nations across the globe in a common endeavor, using the great advances of science and our instinctive compassion to heal. We will succeed – and that success will belong to every one of us.”
Elizabeth is in command of her words, and knows her audience. She, at 93, inspires confidence. Tragically her younger and more reckless prime minister, Boris Johnson, who famously declared he would continue to shake hands with anyone and everyone, now battles with the virus. We cheer for the queen’s wisdom, while we fear for her prime minister’s life.
She thanks and encourages the workers on the front line, and calms and inspires all of us. Importantly, she puts the battle with the coronavirus in perspective: She reminds us that in 1940, she and her sister Margaret, only teens themselves, addressed the children of Britain who had been evacuated from their homes to escape relentless Nazi attacks on the island nation. Then, as now, it was painful to remain separated, but then, as now, “it was the right thing to do.”
The queen’s speech feels like a beacon of hope for Americans, too. Our battle with this unseen enemy is grim, and it seems there is no end in sight. Our own leader’s words ring hollow, as he continues to dole out misinformation and lies, and to block meaningful questions from the press. The queen’s words are what we need to listen to.
It is at times like these, when we are most afraid, that we need to search within ourselves for strength, calm, courage and generosity. The queen’s words, like those of her father before her, help us to visualize what we need to do. And visualizing is the first step in actually doing. As Elizabeth reminds us: “We should take comfort that while we may have more still to endure, better days will return: we will be with our friends again; we will be with our families again; we will meet again.”
(Millie LaFontaine lives in Concord.)