09/15/22
9/15/2022For ages, Americans have demonstrated their fascination with British royalty.
Maybe it’s because we don’t possess that institution ourselves. Maybe it’s a result of our childhood stories about kings, queens, princes and princesses. Maybe it’s simply voyeuristic enjoyment of pomp and all that accompanies it.
But whatever the cause, we’re obviously drawn to the nobility across the pond.
The passing of Queen Elizabeth II, British head of state for a record 70 years, and the elevation of her eldest son to become Charles III, dominated American TV news for an impressive length of time and continued as a news feature here through this past week.
The intensity of that coverage illustrated America’s “special relationship” with the United Kingdom, a relationship that began with Britain’s creation of the American Colonies and intensified when the colonies defeated Great Britain in the Revolutionary War. It continued despite major glitches, such as the War of 1812 and our 1840s competition with Britain over the Oregon Territory.
We have no similar ties with any other nation, including our neighbors north or south: not with Canada, certainly not with Mexico.
The special relationship easily overcame the well-earned grudge millions of Irish immigrants to the U.S. held against Britain for wrongs Britain had committed against Ireland over the years. And Americans through the years often felt uneasy about Britain’s long history of colonialism, which proved particularly brutal toward subject peoples at various times.
My wife Kathy has held a lifelong interest in the history of British royalty. She can name all the royals in the extended family lined up on the Buckingham Palace balcony. She knows the order of succession to the British crown to at least the next 10 spots, and the history of British kings and queens for the last several centuries, including their close relatives.
Today 28 countries, not counting the 15 nations in the British Commonwealth, have a monarch. Several of them are in Europe: Denmark, Norway, Sweden, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Spain, Monaco, Andorra, and Liechtenstein.
Can you name any of those kings and queens? I can’t.
America and the United Kingdom share the same language (although some Brits would deny our right to make that claim). That’s another reason for our affinity. When we see TV coverage of British royalty, we can understand what they say and can identify with their sentiments. That’s usually not the case with the crowned heads of other nations.
As for Elizabeth II, she enjoyed particular popularity in both the United Kingdom and the United States. She owed that in part to her longevity. She probably also owed it to her political reticence: she never involved herself in parliamentary disputes. Although she was head of state, she was not head of the government. The Prime Minister holds that title and role.
The job of the British crowned head is to represent the nation, at home and abroad. Through history some of those kings and queens have conducted themselves so as to earn respect and love in both venues. Others, not so much. And back in the day the head that wore the crown often did so uneasily, since palace intrigue sometimes threatened to separate it from its body.
Americans seem fascinated by the ancient and unchanging traditions of British royalty. We gave up any claim to those in 1776. France did the same with its monarchy in 1793, China in 1911, Russia in 1917, Germany in 1918, Italy in 1946, and a number of other nations as well through the years. That’s not to say there’s a desire in non-crown countries to institute a monarchy, but many of us like to watch the trappings.
And the Brits appear to enjoy the unity that their monarch engenders among themselves. When they sing “God Save the Queen” (and now “the King”), they mean it. Hard to imagine Americans harmonizing like that together about our head of state—we have no such anthem and no such unity.
The only serious threat to the existence of the British crown through the centuries took place in 1649, when Protestants under Oliver Cromwell took control of Parliament, deposed King Charles I, and executed him. Cromwell’s “Commonwealth of England,” with himself as Protector, governed the nation for the next 10 years.
That proved to be long enough. Cromwell died of natural causes in 1658, and Royalists retook power the next year, installing Charles I’s son Charles II on the throne. The monarchy was back.
On Jan. 30, 1661, the 12th anniversary of Charles I’s execution, Cromwell’s body was exhumed from Westminster Abbey, hanged in chains, thrown into a pit, and decapitated. His head was then displayed on a pole outside Westminster Hall until 1685. Thereafter various people owned the head and at times publicly exhibited it, until its final burial beneath a chapel floor at Cambridge University in 1960. The burial location of the rest of his corpse remains uncertain.
No one has ventured to challenge the existence of the British monarchy in the succeeding 360-plus years since Charles II reclaimed the throne. Small wonder. ♦
