A Brief History of the House of Windsor (3 page)

The close ties between Britain’s monarchy and several of those in modern-day Germany were well known. The most conspicuous of these were with the Royal House of Prussia, a country that had come to dominate its neighbours and whose kings had since 1871 become emperors, or kaisers, of a united German nation. Wilhelm II, who had come to
the throne in 1888, was a grandson of Queen Victoria and a cousin of George V. He was a noisy, erratic, opinionated man whose personal behaviour and public statements more than once caused offence in Britain. He was also the head of a state that was actively arming itself, building a huge navy that was intended to rival, perhaps surpass, that of Britain, thus threatening the balance of power and the preservation of peace. His prominent role in European affairs was a source of considerable disquiet. The British public did not like or trust him, yet he was related to their own royal family.

Another cousin, so physically similar to George V that they were even mistaken for each other, was Tsar Nicholas II of Russia (1868–1918). Though personally benign, he was the autocratic ruler of a backward country, and was regarded by many as an oppressive, reactionary despot. It seemed to some that the British monarchy kept highly questionable company. These international hate figures were their friends, intimates, relations. Instead of belonging to the country and its people, the British royal family of the time could be viewed as part of a class of rootless international idlers and troublemakers. Had these monarchs confined themselves merely to dressing up and mounting ceremonial displays, they could safely have been ignored, but in fact they wielded enough power or influence to threaten the political stability of the Western world. When in the summer of 1914 war did indeed break out, dividing the Continent into two armed camps, some of the monarchies were on the same side as Britain (Russia, Romania, Serbia, and later Italy and Greece) while others (Germany, Austria–Hungary, Turkey and then Bulgaria) became her enemies. The British people greeted the war with enthusiasm as a chance to settle the score with a European bully. As stories of German atrocities in Belgium began to spread, and as sons and brothers began to die in the conflict, a state of perpetual fury and indignation replaced the initial euphoria.

It was seen as particularly unfortunate at this time that the British royal family had affiliations with Germany, though
over the previous centuries it had never occurred either to them or to their subjects that there was anything negative or shameful about these links. The German states were seen as having much in common with Britain, and were regarded by the often xenophobic British as less foreign than other nations. (This attitude was mutual. When war broke out, the fact that the British were on the other side was viewed by Germans as ‘racial treason’.) The links were so close and so obvious that it would be impossible to ignore or to undo them. Since 1714, when the Elector of Hanover had become King George I of Great Britain, the British Court had been dominated by German names and German culture. George I and his son and successor George II had not even troubled to learn their subjects’ language.

For members of the British Royal House the choice of marriage partners had been limited. Their brides must of course be Protestant princesses, which meant that they must come from northern Europe, not from the Mediterranean or Austria. There were occasional exceptions: Queen Victoria’s eldest son had married a Danish princess, and her second – as we have seen – a Russian grand duchess (Orthodox Russians were generally viewed with as much suspicion as Catholics), but to a large extent young women were recruited from the same tried and tested kingdoms and duchies. Coburg, from which Prince Albert originated, was nicknamed ‘the stud-farm of Europe’ because its ruling family married into so many dynasties. The range of available girls in the German lands was so wide owing to the fact that the territory contained over three hundred princely states – more than any other part of the Continent, or indeed the world. Germany did not become a united nation until 1871, and even then its ruling families retained their individual titles until the general collapse of the monarchy in 1918. George III had married a German, as had George IV and his brother William IV. Queen Victoria’s mother, the Duchess of Kent, was German, and Victoria went on to marry Prince Albert of
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. The name of her grandson – George V – was a reminder of the Hanoverian connection and of the sheer foreignness of the family.

As the First World War continued the public and the press increasingly looked toward Buckingham Palace and wondered about the real loyalties of those who lived there. Were they as committed as everyone else to a war against their own relatives? How British were they, in hearts and minds? With whom did their sympathies lie – their compatriots or their class?

What was the British monarchy to do in this climate of fearful suspicion and intermittent hostility? How did it change and adapt, to keep its credibility and the loyalty of its subjects – and to ensure its own survival in a world where respect could no longer be taken for granted? How did it turn from the aloof and formal institution that was so much a part of the old European order into the royal family personified today by William and Kate?

The story of this transformation in expectations – both theirs and ours – is a fascinating one. It is filled with colourful characters and exciting events. At the time it begins – the First World War and its aftermath – the institution of monarchy seemed to have no future. Today the British monarchy seems more secure than it was a century ago, and its appeal, judging by international interest in the royal wedding and Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee, is truly universal. Its survival, and successful adaptation, is an inspiration to all those who wish the institution well.

How did this successful transformation come about? To a large extent it was a matter of personalities. The twenty-six-year reign of George V represented a clean break in style and tone from the very public excesses of his popular but profligate father, Edward VII. For a long time dismissed as dull by historians, George was in fact a good deal more shrewd – and intelligent – than many give him credit for. He read the mood of the country and set about giving his people a monarchy that
suited the time: unspectacular, dutiful and safe. He was aware that respect and goodwill would henceforth have to be earned through hard work, and he ensured that his heirs understood this. His own son, Edward VIII, brought the institution of monarchy to new heights of popularity as Prince of Wales, only to squander this goodwill once he briefly ascended the throne. Edward’s brother, George VI, became arguably the best-loved king in British history. His is a story of triumph over personal limitations, but his leadership of the nation during its gravest crisis undermined his health and contributed to his early death. His daughter, inheriting the throne at an age when her contemporaries were busy setting up homes for themselves, has reigned with exemplary devotion ever since.

The crucial year in the process of modernizing the monarchy was 1917, a more important date in British history than most of us realize. Though, quite rightly, the nation was preoccupied at that time with the First World War, it was in this year that a quiet revolution took place. In essence what happened was that the British people told their rulers what sort of monarchy they wished to have, and the royal family – swiftly, willingly and completely – made the necessary changes.

‘The British Empire is very near the limit of its endurance of a kingly caste of Germans. The choice of British royalty between its peoples and its cousins cannot be indefinitely delayed. Were it made now, publicly and boldly, there can be no doubt the decision would mean a renascence of monarchy and a tremendous outbreak of royalist enthusiasm in the empire.’

H. G. Wells, 16 May 1917,
New York Times

If you travel by rail from Waterloo, you arrive at Windsor and Eton Riverside, one of two stations in this royal town. The immense, battlemented, grey granite ramparts of the Castle loom above you as you come out on to a busy road. Walk along this, in the direction of the High Street, and in less than a minute you will see a monument. It is set back from the roadway in a miniature garden. There are benches, flowers and long wild grasses, and two matching basins in which fountains play. A pair of stone lion’s heads, one at either end,
spew water into a pool. Perhaps there ought to be a statue here but there is only a plinth, and on it there are the trappings of kingship, carved in stone: a crown, an orb, two sceptres, all displayed on a cushion. It is as if the figure who should be holding these things has vanished on some urgent errand, and if you wait a few minutes he will return and pick them up. On the plinth there is the briefest of inscriptions:

There is not even a date, though a nearby plaque tells you that the memorial – designed by the great imperial architect Lutyens – was unveiled by the king’s successor in 1937. George V, as you may know, reigned during the First World War, and the twenties, and some of the thirties.

The House of Windsor, Britain’s royal family, is evidently not very old, as dynasties go. There are millions of people still alive throughout the world who were this man’s subjects, who were born during his reign, who might even have caught a glimpse of him. The present queen, now in her eighties, remembers him very well indeed. As a child she often had breakfast with him, or visited in his company the stables where his horses were kept. She and he were great friends. He called her ‘Lilibet’. She referred to him as ‘Grandpapa England’.

Though the House of Windsor is clearly not ancient, it was the ancestors of George V who built Windsor Castle, and that was almost a thousand years ago. They have lived in it more or less ever since. It is in effect the same family, the same dynasty, that has ruled the country for a millennium, if under different names. The British royal family – and the Crown is the oldest institution in Britain, other than the Christian Church – has ‘re-branded’ itself.

In pictures King George V looks the archetype of a monarch and an Englishman. Yet since his foreign-sounding
family name had become a source of embarrassment or even antipathy, he decided – no doubt after consultation with the College of Arms, and whoever else might be interested in these matters – to change it by royal command.

Declaring that the Name of Windsor is to be borne by His Royal House and Family and relinquishing the use of all German Titles and Dignities

WHEREAS WE having taken into consideration the Name and Title of Our Royal House and Family, have determined that henceforth Our House and Family shall be styled and known as the House and Family of Windsor:

AND WHEREAS We have further determined for Ourselves for and on behalf of Our descendants and all other the descendants of Our Grandmother Queen Victoria of blessed and glorious memory to relinquish and discontinue the use of all German Titles and Dignities:

AND WHEREAS We have declared these Our determinations in Our Privy Council:

NOW, THEREFORE, We, out of Our Royal Will and Authority, do hereby declare and announce that from the date of this Our Royal Proclamation Our Royal House and Family shall be styled and known as the House and Family of Windsor, and that all the descendants in the male line of Our said Grandmother Queen Victoria who are subjects of those Realms, other than female descendants who may marry or have married, shall bear the name of Windsor.

And do hereby further declare and announce that We for Ourselves and for and on behalf of Our descendants and all other the descendants of Our said Grandmother Queen Victoria who are subjects of these Realms, relinquish and enjoin the discontinuance of the use of the Degrees, Styles, Dignities, Titles and
Honours of Dukes and Duchesses of Saxony and Princes and Princesses of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, and all other German Degrees, Styles, Dignities, Titles, Honours and Appellations to Us or to them heretofore belonging or appertaining.

Given at Our Court at Buckingham Palace, this Seventeenth day of July, in the year of our Lord One thousand nine hundred and seventeen, and in the Eighth year of Our Reign.

The spring of 1917 was a dark time for Britain. The war, which was now almost three years old, was going badly. In France and Belgium, the conflict had settled into a static contest in which neither side could defeat the other. The British armies, now no longer made up of regulars but of wartime volunteers whose only asset had been enthusiasm, were being ground down by attrition and decimated by frontal attacks on positions that were grimly defended. The previous summer the biggest of these, along the River Somme, had cost over 20,000 fatalities on the first day alone. The territory gained had ultimately amounted to about six miles. That winter, there had been another costly fight at Passchendaele. Scores of thousands of men were dying for nothing, and no one seemed to know what to do about it.

Elsewhere in the theatre of war, the situation was no better. An attempt by Allied troops to break through the Dardanelles and attack the enemy countries through a side-door had been a costly failure. In the Middle East, Britain had suffered disaster in the siege and fall of Kut. In East Africa the war was unwinnable, and would remain so. Further east the Russian Empire, a staunch ally if an inadequately equipped military power, underwent a revolution in the first months of the year that toppled the tsar. The new government had pledged to keep Russia in the war, but this promise was clearly not popular with a people that had suffered, perhaps, more than any other of the combatants, and the stability and
commitment of the country’s new rulers could not be guaranteed. If Russia should make peace, or be defeated by Germany, the consequences would be grave if not catastrophic. The Eastern Front would cease to exist, freeing a million men to fight in the West. With so many seasoned troops at the enemy’s disposal, the rest of Continental Europe would surely be overrun.