THE MEN WHO WOULD BE KING

When the news of the storming of the Bastille reached Versailles, the hapless Louis XVI expressed the hope that this was a mere revolt. "No, sir," replied the Duc de la Rochefoucauld-Liancourt, "it's a great revolution." For the sake of the House of Windsor, we must trust that those advising the royal family at this unhappy time will also be blunt. The national outpouring of affection and grief for the "people's princess" could be dismissed as a form of collective hysteria that will die away as surely as the echo of muffled funeral bells. No tumbrels loom for a monarchy that still figures centrally in the British psyche and way of life. But if the monarchy is to survive and thrive in the new millennium, it will be because it has listened to its subjects and responded, not with mere tactical concessions--a waiving of protocol here, a letting slip of the mask there--but with the courage to think and act strategically.

Listening to the will of the people shouldn't be difficult, even for a royal family with a propensity to shelter behind the carapace of tradition and ceremony. With voluble outrage and grief to match our confessional age, editorial writers and citizens on the streets told their royal family that business as usual is not an acceptable reaction. Once upon a time it may have been enough. When George VI and his Queen remained stoically at Buckingham Palace to share with Londoners the horrors and dangers of the wartime blitz, he sealed the affections of his people and prepared the ground for the new Elizabethan era. But this, now, is a revolutionary era, and like the Bourbons it has caught the Windsors by surprise. Call it the era of Diana, who revolted against the "firm" and revolutionized the people's perceptions, not only of what the monarchy is, but what it could become. Even as the Windsors grieve, they and the country should give thanks that Diana has shown them the way. And dreadful irony as it may be, her untimely death creates the opportunity for the Windsors to take charge of the revolution.

The Prince of Wales, who once said the realization that he was heir to the throne hit him as a "ghastly, inexorable sense," must lead the way. The British want evidence that the chilly Charles is the right man for the job--the job not only of King but also of father to the young princes, William and Harry. The decisions that he makes now will give him a critical opportunity to resolve his country's doubts. The monarchy will probably survive--it has, after all, endured wars and divorces, beheadings and exile. But in the wake of Diana's death, the House of Windsor must settle back down on its foundation quite differently.

From the beginning, the fuss throughout Britain over how to grieve made it clear that the palace would be in a bind. Every gesture it made--or failed to make--was scrutinized like smoke from the Vatican and found wanting. For much of the week, the royal family took a battering from the press and from the people: the proper flags were not flying in the proper places at the proper heights; the royals were not attuned to the desires of the "people" for a suitably populist funeral for the "people's princess"; the brief statement of sorrow issued shortly after the family learned of Diana's death was soon forgotten and, if remembered, deemed inadequate. "What is the nation to make of silence and absence at a time of vocal and visible lamentation?" the London Times wondered.