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Dianasty, the Dark Fairytale
In the weeks that have followed the event the almost universal experience has been one of agony. Either the agony of loss and bereavement that so many have mysteriously felt for this woman they knew only as culture icon, or the agony of those that cannot fathom why they must endure the fallout of this incessant global crying jag. The misty-eyed and the mystified…
The principal problem for the reflexively cynical, those who generally blame the media for the excesses of the moment (ironically often the same people who had only a passing problem with the fetishistic preoccupation of world media for more than a year with a double homicide involving an ex-football player), is that they can readily identify all the elements of this particular drama and it doesn't seem to add up to much more than a royal soap opera. This only marginally interesting woman was grabbed for breeding stock by a decaying dynasty and the ridiculous stress of her lifestyle made her neurotic and wayward. Successfully ousted from the throne room she managed to parlay her photogenic public persona into a minor charity industry and at the end had apparently snatched the heart of a rich young money baron before strange fate cut short her life. An interesting story, no doubt about it, but whence the monumental global grief?
For the moved, the story is much more meaningful. A symbol of Every Woman, this kindhearted kindergarten teacher became an embodiment of unlooked-for fortune and relentless grace, an involved parent of a publicly broken marriage who rose above self-abuse to exploit her fame for the benefit of worthy causes. She was a brokenhearted beauty with an angelic soul on the cusp of a true-love relationship with a handsome prince of finance when the dark specters of drunk driving and media greed struck her down. This is more than an interesting story, it is a Story For Our Time.
Both these perspectives are correct, however different in spirit, but while both acknowledge that they are witness to a significant cultural phenomenon, neither addresses what may be the true reason for the scale of the event and the true source of its power. The closest anybody has come is in the regular off-hand reference to the 'fairy tale' factor.
Because this is a fairy tale, in the original meaning of that phrase. The fairy tale, however Disney-fied in modern consciousness, is still one of the oldest and most potent forms of cultural communication. The actual tales that survive, as collected by the likes of Grimms and Anderson and Hawthorne or as still passed on in oral traditions that predate recorded history, are dark and discomfiting ventures into those most primeval aspects of the collective unconscious. They reference a part of our nature born in a time when there was universal unspoken acknowledgement of other realms of being beyond or beside our own, which can and do influence human lives, and can be influenced by them.
One very definite area where the ancient traditions make it clear that these realms crossed over was in that aspect of the human drama known as the blood royal. As readers of Joseph Campbell or Frazer's "Golden Bough" will know, that phrase originally had a double meaning, not only referring to genetic succession that solved the whole leadership issue, but also pointing out that for all the priviledge of its presence in their veins the blood of the kings was not their own. In times of crop failure the king might literally bleed himself onto the blighted fields to fertilize them with his quasi-divine magic. When the bodily vigour began to wane the king might be ritually sacrificed and parts of his body fed to the vital young successor. And when the gods were angry, and nothing less than a human sacrifice was called for to ransom the tribe, it was the king who took the fall for the sake of all. It could be said that the crucifixion of Jesus was the great ritual regicide that triggered the modern era.
The blood royal in its original form has survived the transition to modernity in many parts of the planet. As an institution it is the oldest form of cultural continuity extant, and out of that antiquity summons a vast unseen iceberg of pagan symbology and ritual of which the public images are but the smallest visible tip. But the modern era has been hard on many of these ancient dynasties, and in the British Isles in particular, home of one of the oldest and most blood-soaked of the world's royal lines, that primeval beast has found itself in dire peril.
Which is, of course, the beginning of the fairy tale, where the hoary Queen orders her dimwit son to marry the innocent maiden to prop up their failing family tree, then imprisons her. But she is much beloved by the people, and she escapes. She wanders the world, healing the sick, but is bewitched by an infidel prince and soon they will be married and the royal blood corrupted. The Court Magician is summoned, the rituals of sacrifice brought forth, the spell is cast.
A fascinating piece of symbolism was paraded before every news service in the week before the death of the Princess. Charles the Be-kilted and his genetically enhanced brood were seen in pastoral Scottish repose and heard bemoaning the fact that they couldn't fish the River Dee because for the first time in generations there was a lack of trout. The superficial may see this as nothing more than a photo op with an ecology angle, but others might see more. One of the most famous magicians in history, alchemical supreme to Elizabeth I, was an amazing man by the name of John Dee. And, of course, the fish as a symbol has such a rich ritualistic history that almost everyone will have some reference. In this specific instance, as a symbol of the lifeforce of the sustaining earth, its absence is cause for genuine alarm. The crop failure is upon us, and as your sacred ruler we will do that for which we were ordained. Now is the time for the shedding of the blood royal.
Sometimes the presence in the real world of the stuff of mythology is so much in your face that it completely fails to register. This woman was literally a princess, and her name was her fate. In a thousand years her story will have merged with that of Mother Theresa, and probably both Madonnas.
And you can do whatever detective work you want to solve the mystery of Diana's death, condemn the public that supports the industry that spawned the swarming shutterbugs that urged them to speed, or pin it on the fucked-up driver, the hotel that hired him, and the Eiffel Tower for making him feel immortal, (I personally blame the autonomous control of automobiles, as sure a sign of the insanity of our species as you could find)... but the first thing any detective should ask in any case of violent death is: who had the most to gain?
It is my opinion that had Diana married Dodi Fayed the monarchy in England was doomed to dissolution in less than a decade. And you can bet that an organization that has been around as long as this one would be willing at direst need to pull out a few of the old tried-and-true techniques to ensure its survival. However you might think this passage came to pass, the final word is that because of the ritualized transfer of her power to her son the future king, for whom Barmy Prince Charlie will almost certainly step aside, there is every reason to believe the British blood royal will reign beyond any of our lifetimes...
... or at least it would have, if not for the end of the world.
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