It is a simple fact: when Princess Diana died, millions wept. Of course, the death of one so young and beautiful always contains the greatest elements of tragedy—and yet, there was more to it than that. Diana was a human being, simple in some ways and complex in others; young in her love of life, yet wise in her compassion. And she was also a Princess, whose life contained abundant elements of tragedy, romance and courage. Shakespeare would have understood.
As we honour Princess Di on the fifth anniversary of her death, we might do well to consider that, had Britain been a republic, Princess Di would never have happened. She would have been Ms Diana Spencer who married Mr Charles Windsor—one of the numberless people whom life too often ignores and history too often forgets.
All political systems bring certain types of people to the head of public affairs and exclude others. Most often, those who bring themselves forward are those with large ambition. This is both natural and desirable—up to a point. Yet such a state of affairs always carries with it the danger that great power, once obtained, will be greatly abused. Surely it is both reasonable and prudent to bring forward, by whatever means, those who are more normal in their ambitions and desires—and therefore likely to be more sympathetic in their humanity. Princess Di was real. Her sympathy was unfeigned and her deeds were untainted by personal ambition. She was, after all, a Princess and not a politician—and the people loved her for it.
It is the noblest attibute of strength to defend those who are weakest. In her last years, Princess Di fought for those who would otherwise have lacked a champion: people dying with AIDS and children in impoverished countries, whose lives and limbs are endangered by land mines. She was truly a saint who touched us in many ways. We are saddened by her death, even as we were made happier by her life.