GREAT BRITAIN: The Old Curiosity Shop

Opening the fourth session of Britain's 300th Parliament last week, Queen Elizabeth II for the first time delivered her Speech from the Throne under the beady eye of the television camera. In Britain itself at least 12 million of her subjects were watching; in nine other European countries uncounted lovers of pageantry took in the spectacle.

The decision to televise the Gracious Speech had caused heartburn among Laborites. who feared that some of the Queen's prestige might rub off on the governing Tory Party. The pallid words that Prime Minister Harold Macmillan's government put in the Queen's mouth about "My Ministers' " intentions on home building and foreign policy probably changed nobody's vote. But the occasion did set the Manchester Guardian to musing about the meaning of ceremony in a democracy: "The Imperial State Crown, the Cap of Maintenance, the Sword of State, the Heralds, the Lord Great Chamberlain and the Earl Marshals make up a beautiful charade, but if all were swept away tomorrow it would make not the slightest difference to the government of the country.

"They are harmless relics—harmless, that is, so long as nobody mistakes them for anything significant . . . Abroad, Britain's reputation as an old curiosity shop will be enhanced and our tourist earnings may benefit."

The TV camera's stare had perhaps added to the seemly behavior of the members of the House of Commons, who entered the lordly precincts solemnly—unlike the day "when Queen Victoria opened her first Parliament and the members of Commons thundered in like steeplechasers, racing each other to the Bar, and one of the members for Sheffield dislocated his shoulder."