News
Garber Announces Advisory Committee for Harvard Law School Dean Search
News
First Harvard Prize Book in Kosovo Established by Harvard Alumni
News
Ryan Murdock ’25 Remembered as Dedicated Advocate and Caring Friend
News
Harvard Faculty Appeal Temporary Suspensions From Widener Library
News
Man Who Managed Clients for High-End Cambridge Brothel Network Pleads Guilty
An Englishman visiting this country shortly after the marriage of Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip in 1947 was astounded by the avidity with which Americans requested information about royal affairs. He had been told that Americans were contemptuous of monarchy and nobility, classing them with feudalism as holdovers from the middle ages; instead he found the royal family classed with movie stars in the sense that its private lives were considered public property.
In this sense, George VI was a good King, to his own subjects and also to people who owed him no allegiance but accepted to a greater or lesser extent English symbols of familial and behavioral propriety. His family life was quiet and unimpeachable, he was not addicted to the political and social excesses of his elder brother, and his serious speech defect brought him great public sympathy on the rare occasions of his broadcast speeches. But this would not differentiate him from any well-liked public figure, and to Englishmen he was far more than that. He holds a place in the English society roughly equivalent to that which the Bible, the Constitution, and the Declaration of Independence would hold here if they coalesced and periodically died, were reborn, raised families, and traveled around the country inspecting new shipyards and factories.
America has never had such a simple focus for respect; its heterogeneous beginnings, its federal structure, and its Churchless State all militate against it. A King would be most inappropriate in America. But he is most appropriate to England; he could not have lasted through such a variety of governments and social conditions were he not.
From one point point of view, the reign of George VI might be considered a succession of dismal retreats and impoverishments, broken only by a gratifying climax to the second world war. British coin, which at the beginning of his reign was enscribed with "Georgius VI Dei Gra Britt Omn Rex Fid Def Ind Imp" and was worth nearly $5 a pound, now says simply "Georgius VI Dei Gra Britt Omn Rex Fid Def" and is worth $2.80. The structure of the Commonwealth has become a good deal more flexible, and the entire Commonwealth has been overshadowed by the great power struggle of the Soviet Union and the United States.
But in the fading of the power of which it is a symbol, the British monarchy has gained in stature as a symbol of constancy in the middle of adversity and uncertainty. It is a symbol to which Englishmen have been able to cling without rigidifying their thinking or giving up social and economic experimentation; it is just the kind of symbol that the free world needs at this time.
As a symbol, the death of King George is a cause for sorrow. As an occasion for the British to demonstrate their solidarity in mourning, it will bring a renewal of faith to a people who can hardly see beyond austerity, the dollar gap, and shrunken prestige. And, although an analogy is hardly in order, Britons will no doubt recall that under two earlier Queens, England reached unparalled levels of glory and success. Stranger things have occurred, and a symbol can sometimes do extraordinary things.
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.