The royals - Kitty Kelley [11]
The King was more determined than ever to hang on to his threatened throne. He resented references to his German ancestry and raged over the caricatures of Max Beerbohm, who drew him as a comical and lugubrious figure. He lost his temper when a Labor Member of Parliament called him “a German pork butcher,” and he erupted again when H. G. Wells branded him a foreigner. In a letter to the Times, the British journalist and novelist called for an end to “the ancient trappings of the throne and sceptre.” He damned the royal house of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha by calling it “an alien and uninspiring Court.”
“I may be uninspiring,” boomed the King, “but I’ll be damned if I’m an alien.”
He resolved then and there to rid himself and his royal house of what he saw as its dreadful German taint. With the greatest sleight of hand since the sorcery of Prospero, he asserted his divine right and rechristened himself with the most euphonious, melodious British name conceivable. His courtiers had spent weeks searching for just such a name that would reestablish the monarchy as thoroughly English.
Finally, Lord Stamfordham found it and secured his place in history by proposing the name of Windsor. That one word summoned up what the King was looking for—a glorious image that resonated with history, stretching back to William the Conqueror. For Windsor Castle, the most thoroughly British symbol extant, had been the site of English monarchs for eight hundred years. Although few kings had ever lived there, several had died in Windsor Castle, and nine were buried in its royal crypt. The name was enough to redeem a tarnished crown.
The proclamation of the House of Windsor was announced on July 17, 1917, and appeared the next day on the front pages of England’s newspapers. The British press dutifully reported that the King had renounced his German name and all German titles for himself and all other descendants of Queen Victoria and that henceforth he and his issue were to be referred to as the House of Windsor.
In the United States, news of the British royal family’s reinvention was reported on page nine of The New York Times. In an editorial, the Times noted “the unnaming and renaming” was approved in a meeting of the largest Privy Council ever assembled and suggested that the name of Windsor, an Anglo-Saxon fortress where the legendary King Arthur sat among the Knights of the Table Round, might have been selected for its “sense of continuity, of ancientness.” America’s newspaper of record praised England’s King for choosing “a venerable name for his house.”
In Germany, the news was reported with less reverence. The Kaiser laughed at his quixotic cousin and said that he was looking forward to attending a performance of that well-known play The Merry Wives of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. But the Kaiser appreciated the political necessity of accommodation. As he pointed out, “Monarchy is like virginity—once lost, you can’t get it back.”
Still, he exacted revenge nineteen years later when the King died by sending the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha to his cousin’s funeral in Windsor Castle. The Duke wore his Nazi uniform.
George V never expressed any qualms about his actions. He pragmatically buried his German roots to save his throne and then systematically ostracized his foreign relatives. He did this without compunction, even after receiving news from Russia that the Czar and Czarina and their four daughters and young son, who were moved from Siberia to Ekaterinburg, had been massacred by the Bolsheviks.
“It was a foul murder,” he wrote piously in the diary he kept for posterity. “I was devoted to Nicky, who was the kindest of men and a thorough gentleman.”
By keeping his distance, the King of England had held his crown in place. He then proceeded to rule the House of Windsor for the next two decades with probity. There was no scandal attached to his reign, and like his grandmother Queen