Princess Grace, RIP

When Grace Kelly arrived in Monaco to marry the reigning member of one of the oldest royal families in Europe, the pre-nuptial festivities included a seemingly endless parade of ships that slipped by the royal yacht where, alongside her prince, she stood, watched by television, and by what was at the time one of the largest television audiences in history. One reporter remarked that she waved her right hand with apparent spontaneity, with delight, at the endless line of well-wishers, struck by the theatrical magic of it all —America’s most beautiful woman (they said with some reason) marrying Europe’s most eligible prince. But the reporter noted that her left hand gripped the railing of the ship with a tension unnoticed by the crowds who gathered, but undisguisable—one could see the muscles in that arm, taut, pulsating even. And it was so, this reporter remarked, for the entire four hours of the physical ordeal.

Grace Kelly had been most recently trained to perform professionally as an actress. But before that she had been trained by her family to perform as a human being: to control herself, and to strive for perfection. The hard effort she put in, that afternoon, requiring of her so much strength—all but hidden from the audience, because she had been trained to hide pain, to disguise effort—all that was a part of her character.

About the Author

William F. Buckley Jr.

William F. Buckley Jr. founded National Review magazine in 1955.

When Grace Kelly arrived in Monaco to marry the reigning member of one of the oldest royal families in Europe, the pre-nuptial festivities included a seemingly endless parade of ships that slipped by the royal yacht where, alongside her prince, she stood, watched by television, and by what was at the time one of the largest television audiences in history. One reporter remarked that she waved her right hand with apparent spontaneity, with delight, at the endless line of well-wishers, struck by the theatrical magic of it all —America’s most beautiful woman (they said with some reason) marrying Europe’s most eligible prince. But the reporter noted that her left hand gripped the railing of the ship with a tension unnoticed by the crowds who gathered, but undisguisable—one could see the muscles in that arm, taut, pulsating even. And it was so, this reporter remarked, for the entire four hours of the physical ordeal.

Grace Kelly had been most recently trained to perform professionally as an actress. But before that she had been trained by her family to perform as a human being: to control herself, and to strive for perfection. The hard effort she put in, that afternoon, requiring of her so much strength—all but hidden from the audience, because she had been trained to hide pain, to disguise effort—all that was a part of her character.