King George V
Part Three, Chapter Fifteen: A House Divided
It was a misty morning on the 28th of October 1843 when a packet steamer docked at St Katharine’s in London, a small collection of weary travellers descending from the passenger deck to the cobbled street below. Peddlers carrying trays of hot pies and paper bags filled with roasted chestnuts yelled out into the haze, coachmen jostled for position along Mews Street hoping to pick up a generous fare and beggars leaned against soot-stained walls holding aloft tin mugs for a few coppers from London’s latest new arrivals. Amid the scene, Charlie Phipps stood looking anxiously towards the ship, desperately trying to avoid the hawkers and vagrants alike, the bite of the October morning kept out by a thick beaver-fur coat. After almost every passenger had disembarked, Phipps looked down at his pocket watch. Had he been given the wrong time, he wondered. Then, he gazed back up at the deck where a sailor was struggling to pull a large trunk down the ladder. Another stepped in to help him. Then, a third emerged, a wizened figure in a black frock coat with fur trim around the neck holding on to the sailor’s arm. He was tall and thin with a strong roman nose under which a bushy grey moustache twirled at the edges. He used a cane and the support of the sailor to make his way to the ladder, animatedly chatting away as he followed his trunk down onto the dockside. He gave the sailor a coin. The sailor smiled and shook the old gentleman’s hand. Phipps took a deep breath and made his way across the cobbles.
“Your Royal Highness”, he said softly, giving a small bow of the neck, “I am His Majesty’s Private Secretary, welcome to London”
The Duke of Cumberland narrowed his eyes and looked Phipps up and down.
“What a curious thing it is to be welcomed back to one’s own country”, he mused, reaching out his gloved hand to offer a friendly greeting, “Might I take your arm sir? I am weary from my journey”
Phipps gallantly helped the Duke out toward Mews Street where the cabbies looked on with some curiosity. At the end of the road stood a carriage painted in light grey with rich blue velvet curtains at the windows. On the door was painted the Royal Coat of Arms in silver, almost glowing as the gas lamps picked it out in the gauzy morning light. Phipps opened the carriage door and helped the Duke of Cumberland inside. Climbing in after his charge, Phipps rapped on the top of the coach and it began its slow trundle away from Mews Street into Tower Hill.
“His Majesty apologises Sir; he would have liked to have welcomed you personally but he is otherwise detained this morning”
“Humph”, the Duke snorted, “I should wager he’s still in his bed, what? My father would never have allowed it. The best of the day wasted in a pit. Young men today simply do not appreciate the enemy of time. Where am I to lodge?”
“St James’ Palace, Your Royal Highness”, Phipps explained kindly, “Princess Sophia will receive you”
“I am glad”, Cumberland nodded, “It has been too long since I saw my sister. She was always kind to me”
A brief silence descended, the Duke holding on to a rope on the carriage door to steady himself as the coach swayed to and fro along the bump and rattle of the London streets.
“This girl my son is to marry…a pleasant young lady is she?”
The Duke of Cumberland
Phipps was taken aback by the question. He was suddenly reminded of just how much a stranger to the Royal Family the old Duke had become. Cumberland had once been a figure of great public interest, not because he inspired affection but because he was so very much despised by the press, politicians and people alike. His efforts to unseat his elder brother as Regent for King George V had finally seen him evicted from the country he loved. In his self-imposed exile in Berlin, the Duke’s only real connection with his former life came by virtue of his wife’s family, the Prussian Royal Family extending the odd dinner invitation to the Cumberlands bringing a rare opportunity for the Duke to don his uniform, orders and decorations and remind himself of what it was to be a Prince at court. His son and heir, Prince George, had rehabilitated the Cumberland family reputation somewhat, becoming a much-loved friend to the King and well-liked by other members of the Royal Family. But this was not extended to the Duke who, now a widower, lived on a meagre allowance (by royal standards at least) with a skeleton staff. He rarely entertained and had not seen his son for months. Such a life seemed to have knocked the fight out of the old man. Phipps noticed his hands shook a little and each of his 72 years seemed to be etched on his wrinkled face.
“The Princess is delightful”, Phipps replied, feeling a little sad for Cumberland, “She arrives tomorrow”
“Not consulted”, the Duke said with a sigh.
“Sir?”
“I was not consulted”, Cumberland said, fishing for his handkerchief to mop his teary eyes, though whether this was from emotion or the harshness of the morning chill Phipps could not tell, “Such is my station now”
At St James’, Phipps helped the Duke out of the carriage, across Friary Court and through the Queen’s Door which led to the modest apartment where the Duke’s sister Princess Sophia lived. The 66-year-old was seated on a chair in the lobby, a lady in waiting at her side, dressed in her finest awaiting her guest. Sophia was now completely blind, her hair totally white under it’s lace cap, her hands unsteady.
“
Meine liebe schwester…”
Cumberland pottered his way toward Sophia who leaned against her lady in waiting to rise from her chair. She held out her arms before her and waited to feel her brother’s kiss on her cheek. Both stood for a moment, weeping and holding on to each other’s arms.
“Come inside now dear”, Sophia said gently, “I have so very much to tell you”
Phipps watched as brother and sister walked away into Sophia’s apartment. The pathetic scene left him feeling quite sullen.
Contrary to his uncle’s assessment, the King was actually wide awake and busy with his morning papers at Buckingham Palace – he simply didn’t wish to spend a moment longer in Cumberland’s company than was absolutely necessary. Despite this unwelcome arrival however, George was in good spirits. His day had begun with a letter from Princess Agnes of Anhalt-Dessau, a brief note saying how much she had enjoyed their meeting at Trechtinghausen but which was accompanied by a drawing of two cats dancing on a roof. Underneath, Agnes had written the caption “Cat Dance!”. It was so charming that the King set it among the objects on his desk, grinning each time it caught his eye. It made the rather tedious report from the Treasury bearable. JC Herries was predicting another difficult winter ahead. The harvest was poor and some grains in short supply. A rise in prices was inevitable and the cushion of the dreaded income tax was soon to dissipate as the government had to honour its promise and phase it out within the six-month time frame agreed in Cabinet.
George puffed on a cigarette and turned his attention instead to his Foreign Office briefing, a school of politics that interested him far more than economic policy (which he never really understood). It was not exactly edifying reading. The King of Afghanistan was once again squeezing British traders, the Russians now gaining the upper hand there. In Hong Kong, there was growing animosity to the British in their new colony. The Straits Pact was holding. Just. Meanwhile in Spain, Espartero had been ousted as predicted but the situation was described as stable. Isabella II had been declared to have reached the age of majority, though she was only 13, approving the 1837 Spanish constitution and installing a liberal government led by Salustiano de Olózaga – a much needed boost for the Anglo-Spanish trade agreement being negotiated in Madrid.
Away from the King’s Study, Princess Mary was bounding through the corridors of Buckingham Palace ensuring that all was ready for the wedding of Prince George of Cumberland and Princess Auguste of Hesse-Kassel. For all her faults, Mary was proving to be an excellent hostess and on her watch, the Palace had recaptured the glitter of the past which Queen Louise had sought to curtail somewhat. Though the Royal Household found Mary to be a formidable mistress, she was not unkind or unnecessarily demanding unless her orders were not carried out to the letter – in which case she could erupt until matters were settled to her liking. The wedding of Prince George was to take place in two days’ time and so it was that Mary paid particular attention to the Chapel Royal. Whilst carrying out her inspection, she spied the Bishop of London (who was to perform the marriage ceremony, the Archbishop of Canterbury being unwell) casting his eye over the altar. Catching Princess Mary’s eye, the Dean bowed and smiled.
“Your Royal Highness…”
“Now I shan’t have a thing changed”, Mary boomed accusingly, “Why are
you here?”
“I have an audience with His Majesty, Ma’am”, the Bishop explained, “But it has been delayed as I believe the Prime Minister has not yet been dismissed”
“Dismissed?”
“Yes Ma’am, he is still in audience with His Majesty”
“How disappointing”, she sighed, “Well do not clutter yourself in here, I have much to do and I can’t have Bishops under my feet”
“Quite Ma’am”, the Bishop smiled awkwardly, “I shall…”
He looked about for some kind of indication as to where else he might wait.
“I shall…wait in the corridor”
Mary smiled and nodded approvingly, turning her attention to the altar where the Bishop had just put a cushion on which the wedding bands might be placed. She sighed and moved the cushion an inch to the left, patting it for good measure.
The Prime Minister’s weekly audience with the King had been brought forward, the wedding gala for the Cumberlands knocking it off the agenda at it’s usual time. It marked the first since the King’s return from Germany and there was much to discuss. Sir James Graham had resolved to curtail the King’s foreign travels for a time and had seemingly found a way to enforce the new restriction without appearing to exert too much authority. Charlie Phipps had defended his master well when the topic had been raised before George V’s departure for Germany and Graham had promised that the King would be “kept busy”. The Prime Minister wished to hush criticism that the Sovereign was spending too much time abroad whilst also keeping His Majesty’s interests diverted away from the Foreign Office. To affect this, Graham proposed a royal progress which would see the King visit Scotland for the first time since his coronation. There had not been an official tour north of the border since the reign of George IV because much of George V’s reign thus far had fallen under the Long Regency. George had very little interest in Scotland, his only memories associated with it being a brief holiday or two spent at Abbotsford with his estranged mother.
But the Scottish tour of 1822 had been a huge success, a display of pageantry and pomp choreographed by the late Sir Walter Scott to introduce King George IV to his people in Scotland in a series of galas, fetes and public appearances that all agreed had done much to endear those who saw His Late Majesty to the monarchy. Indeed, the only place George IV’s wife was ever received warmly by the majority of the British people was in Scotland. She had even planned to build a new palace for herself there, her assessment being that the Scots were far friendlier than the English (though it must be said she saw little of Scotland beyond the country estates of friends). King George V was less enthusiastic about the idea of touring Scotland and even more so when the Prime Minister proposed that his tour should be extended well beyond the fortnight his parents had spent there. Graham suggested that the King spend eight weeks in Scotland, recreating the visit of his father in 1822 in Edinburgh but then moving on to tour Glasgow, Stirling, Dundee, St Andrews and finally Aberdeen. Officially, the motive of the tour was to introduce the Scots to their King but in reality, Graham simply wanted the King to be elsewhere when the new parliamentary session opened in February, something that didn’t suit the King’s purpose at all. If anything, he intended to watch parliament all the more closely because he intended that they should assist him in bringing some resolution to recent headaches.
King George IV and Queen Louise at Hopetoun, Edinburgh, 1822.
Understandably, the King was furious when he discovered that the Landtag in his “other Kingdom” had confirmed the validity of his cousin’s marriage. But that was merely the overture. Buoyed by his success (and a healthy cash injection to his beleaguered finances), George Cambridge had decided that there was only one thing outstanding yet to be settled following his marriage to Franziska Fritz; he wanted his royal rank back. He was advised this was a hopeless case for in the United Kingdom, there was no such thing as birthright when it came to royal titles and styles. These were in the sole gift of the monarch and whilst convention dictated that George was indeed entitled to be styled as a royal prince of the United Kingdom of Great Britain etc, the King was well within his rights to remove that style if he so wished. But George Cambridge had other ideas. He had already instructed a solicitor in England to look into the possibility of approaching the Committee of Privileges on the matter, news which quickly reached the Palace and sent the King into one of his temper tantrums. The King had been warned that George Cambridge was by no means done with his attempts to restore his reputation but even before this, the recent difficulties borne of his decision to recognise his late uncle’s marriage had inspired the King to take action in some way to prevent a similar situation ever arising again. The rumours coming from Erfurt made the matter both pressing and urgent. George V consulted the Attorney General to help him put together a plan of attack and now the King wished to put these proposals before his Prime Minister with a view to Cabinet approval and a parliamentary vote.
Though in later years George V would insist that he had always reacted to events rather than to proactively affect change, this wasn’t entirely accurate for in November 1843 he took a monumental decision which would perhaps become remembered as George V’s biggest contribution to the British monarchy, certainly during his early reign. Pragmatic and with one eye on the future, what the King was about to do would forever change the way the monarchy operated and it would have very tangible effects in the decades to come. He was not motivated by spite in this, he did not act simply to prevent his cousin from causing yet another scandal – though it must be said that George was advised that if Cambridge did press his case in England, the public mood may well be on his side – rather, the King acted as he did because in the last fifteen years, the only real scandal to affect the monarchy emerged from one thing and one thing only – the Royal Marriages Act of 1772. He admitted that he had not handled the fallout of these incidences well and that, whilst he tried to act out of kindness where his late uncle was concerned, he had effectively proven the act to be a catalyst for crisis. What George III had intended to protect the monarchy from scandal had actually set it on a direct course for public humiliation. The Royal Marriages Act could not be allowed to stand a moment longer.
It should be remembered that the Royal Marriages Act had never been popular in England, indeed, it was only narrowly passed by Lord North in the first place. When George III introduced the bill, the aristocracy were immediately offended because they believed that it was little more than a legal reminder that the Royal Family were a cut above any Duke or Earl not in terms of rank but in terms of pedigree. The message sent to a gentry which had actually provided one or two royal consorts in their time was that the royal bloodline was far too precious to be sullied with commoner blood ever again and that, much like the Stuarts, the Hanoverians considered themselves to be an impeccable breed for whom the mere daughter of a Duke or an Earl would never do. One of the most ferocious opponents of the bill was the Whig titan Charles James Fox. He believed George III’s behaviour was autocratic, even tyrannical. He fought to repeal the bill once it had passed, almost succeeding but for 18 votes. But at the time, the legislation delivered exactly what George III wanted and so, for the next 72 years, the status quo was redefined on royal authority regardless of the troubles it caused for two of George III’s own children. Now, George V had had enough. Something must be done, and quickly, before the Royal Family became caught in a spiral of controversy relating to a bill which had ultimately caused more harm than good.
George V’s objective was a fairly simple one: to relax the harsh restrictions of the Royal Marriages Act (and to contain the fallout of the disagreements it caused) whilst keeping the monarchy itself protected from marriages which would be seemed unsuitable or unacceptable by the Crown, parliament and people alike. At first, he believed the way to affect this was to ask parliament to introduce a new bill which would allow members of the Royal Family to contract morganatic marriages [1]. Morganatic marriage was relatively common among European royalty and though it was still unwelcome, it spared many families the unwelcome attention brought to the British Royal Family’s doorstep in recent years. In most German states, a Prince could marry a beggar if he wished and the marriage would be valid – but there was a price to pay. In most cases, an unequal marriage resulted in the bride taking on an inferior courtesy title (which might be created for her) with special remainder to her children who were considered legitimate but who had no succession rights beyond the title created for their mother. It led to a kind of “Within but without” scenario whereby a Prince might become a Grand Duke without an heir but with children who were nonetheless legitimate. This opened the door to some difficulties in certain royal houses when those affected might try to erase the stain of the
morganatische from their family tree – something we have already come across where Alexandrine of Baden’s ancestors were concerned and which ironically affected George V’s descendants in Darmstadt in the early 1890s. [2]
But the Baden example also reveals that morganatic marriages, and the offspring of such unions, were not well received in royal circles. The Duchess of Cambridge could never countenance Alexandrine as a daughter in law because she was the product of a morganatic marriage and in practical terms, Europe had a two-tier system of royalty in operation whereby some Princes and Princesses were more equal in stature than others - and thus, received differently. So though morganatic marriage was a viable option in many European courts, it was still discouraged. Each royal house had its own way of regulating these marriages and instituted
house laws, a set of legally binding rubrics established by an ancestor to govern the way the royal house would operate in certain situations. The House of Hanover had no such laws but in most other courts, they served as permanent reminders of royal authority derived from a very different source than parliamentary sovereignty. For example, in Russia, the Romanov dynasty was governed by the Pauline Laws of 1797, a set of imperial regulations that acted as divine commandments imposed by an autocrat upon his own family. But even the smaller German courts had house laws as their “code of conduct”. In Coburg for example, the House Laws forbad the accession of a Roman Catholic which posed a serious threat to that particular family in 1893 when Duke Ernst II of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha died without legitimate issue [3].
The United Kingdom had no need of such laws because unlike the Emperor of Austria or the Tsar of Russia, the King was subject to parliamentary sovereignty as a constitutional monarch. Parliament had settled the succession in 1701 and only approved the Royal Marriages Act because they saw the benefit of it – not because the King demanded it. But recent events had shown that though he had no claim to the same authority as the Russian Tsars or the Austrian Emperors, King George could still make use of certain royal privileges to shape the monarchy as he wished. In removing royal rank from his cousin the Earl of Tipperary, George V had established a new precedent; that those who married in defiance of the Royal Marriages Act of 1772 would lose their style of
Royal Highness and
Prince of the United Kingdom, etc. But he had confused that precedent by trying to retroactively give his consent to the marriage of his late uncle the Duke of Sussex. When the King met the Attorney General, he was given the following advice: there was absolutely no possibility of parliament ever agreeing to establish the concept of morganatic marriages in England. The aristocracy would never stand for it and besides, it would go against centuries of English law concerning not only marriages but inheritances too. However, Sir Frederick Pollock did see a way forward that could provide the King with the outcome he wanted but which did not infringe too much on the status quo.
Sir Frederick Pollock, 1st Baronet, 1840 by Lawrence.
First and foremost, Pollock’s advice (if followed) would see the wholesale repeal of the Royal Marriages Act of 1772. Instead, it would be replaced with something called the
Succession to the Crown Act, so called because the major platform of the reform was to put in place consequences serious enough to deter George V’s family from contracting unsuitable marriages even if a mechanism allowed them to do so and have those marriages recognised in law. The Royal Marriages Act was unpopular but it’s penalties rather lacklustre, designed to penalise the bride rather than the groom. Those who married in contravention of it had their marriages declared invalid but they retained their place in the line of succession, their titles, styles and other royal privileges such as continued annuities. The Succession to the Crown Act would change this, giving with one hand but taking with another. Under this new legislation, only the first twelve individuals in the line of succession would be required to seek the Sovereign’s consent for their marriage. If that consent was declined, the individual in question could still go ahead and marry, a marriage that would be recognised and their children considered to be legitimate – but they would lose their succession rights and whilst their children might inherit peerages, they could not inherit a claim to the British throne. They would also forfeit their royal rank, and a second bill was to be introduced alongside the Succession to the Crown Act to regulate this. The two acts together marked the biggest change to the succession since 1701 and would require the approval of the Cabinet before going to parliament for the approval of the Commons and the Lords.
The
Royal House Act would supplement the Succession to the Crown Act in creating a new legal entity and was considered a way to convince parliament that unlike King George III, King George V was not acting autocratically. This act stated that the Royal Family was to be restricted in number to the King’s children and grandchildren in the male line. Everybody else was to be considered a member of the Royal House. This was intended to serve as a kind of royal insurance policy with the legislation determining that the King had the right to extend or withdraw membership at any time via Letters Patent as Head of the Royal House. In effect, this meant two things. In the future, the King’s children and grandchildren in the male line would remain
Royal Highnesses and
Princes and Princess of the United Kingdom. They would also be members of the Royal House of course but their primary status was as members of the Royal Family. They could hold Crown appointments and be granted annuities accordingly and so long as they toed the line, their status would never change.
But the most important adjustment was for those who might be born into the Royal House (not the Royal Family) in the future. These individuals would be entitled to the style of
His/Her Highness Prince/Princess XYZ of Hanover [4]. Despite a lesser rank, they would retain their succession rights and if they fell into the first twelve in the line of succession, they would still be required to seek the Sovereign’s consent before their marriage. For example, the children of Princess Marie Louise. But what of those members who, by their own actions, were “ported” over to the Royal House? To understand how this would work, we may imagine a situation where George Cambridge married after 1844 and in which his chosen bride was not a Roman Catholic.
The Earl of Tipperary would have fallen under the provisions of the new Succession to the Crown Act and we shall suppose that consent was withheld but that George chose to marry anyway. George would have lost his succession rights and have ceased to be
His Royal Highness Prince George of Cambridge from the moment he married under the terms of the Succession to the Crown Act. But his marriage would still have been valid and under the terms of the Royal House Act, he would have become
His Highness Prince George of Hanover, his wife becoming
Her Highness Princess George and his children styled accordingly because they would be legitimate. Also, they could inherit the Dukedom of Cambridge even if they could not inherit the Crown itself and so, whilst the new approach under the Succession to the Crown Act was harsher than that of the Royal Marriages Act, it affected fewer individuals and was far more generous in it's consequences. Of course, none of this could have applied to George Cambridge’s case if he married a Roman Catholic as he did when he took Franziska Fritz for his bride. The Act of Settlement determined that and restrictions on Catholics were to remain. Indeed, Pollock was forced to address this directly, perhaps with George Cambridge's example in mind.
The Attorney General's concern was that parliament may overlook the benefits of the new legislation because it was a distinct possibility that it’s provisions may inadvertently give rise to Catholic cadet branches of the Royal House in the future. Though they could not inherit the throne, this could be taken as a step too far among a population which still held very strong anti-Catholic views despite Catholic emancipation a decade earlier. To resolve this, the Royal House Act was to include a clause which specifically excluded Catholics from becoming members of the Royal House and if an existing member married a Catholic, they would forfeit their membership immediately, no longer afforded the style of
Highness or
Prince/Princess of Hanover. Naturally they would already have lost their succession rights under the terms of the Act of Settlement which neither the Succession to the Crown Act or the Royal House Act replaced in any way. It remained on the statute books unaffected [5]. The King asked if there was any possibility that this new approach may strengthen the case of George Cambridge specifically if he sought to appeal to the Committee of Priveleges as it was rumoured he stood poised to do. George V worried that his cousin may now seek to claim membership of the Royal House. Pollock reassured the King that whilst Cambridge may indeed appeal [6], the new legislation would not be applied retroactively and as such, the Earl of Tipperary would walk away empty handed.
The King personally made a few additions to the Royal House Act. He wanted to make it clear that members of the Royal House were not to be deprived of their nationality, that they were still eligible to be created peers of the realm and that just as the Sovereign could “demote” a member of the Royal Family to membership of the Royal House, he could also raise a member of the Royal House to membership of the Royal Family – for example, if a grandchild in the female line was to become heir apparent, it therefore being entirely appropriate that he or she be styled
Royal Highness etc with all the privileges associated. But he also made one important stipulation which had never before been installed in British law; that members of the Royal House to whom consent did not apply, were free to marry as they wished with one exception; they were to be forbidden from marrying divorcees. In doing so, they would immediately forfeit their membership even though their marriage would be considered legally valid.
A provision was also made that, even in the event of the accession of a female monarch, the Royal House would maintain the name of Hanover. The Succession to the Crown Act and the Royal House Act combined would serve to secure the monarchy’s reputation for decades to come and would become known in history as the King’s Laws, a moniker which originated among opponents to the legislation but which now has even been adopted by the Royal Family itself on their website in the telling of this episode in the monarchy’s history. George V was determined that his solution was logical, “dignified” and “wholly appropriate to prevent further disruptions which may continue to arise from the Royal Marriages Act of 1772”. He was confident it would be adopted and passed and in his journal prior to his audience with the Prime Minister, he wrote “Pollock’s advice v. sound. All things considered well and the case made for their inclusion most strongly”.
When the King presented these reforms to the Prime Minister, Graham was quietly impressed at just how thoroughly George had prepared his proposals. He had sought advice from the Attorney General, from the Prime Minister and would (pending Graham’s consent and departure) seek the advice of the Church of England too. But Graham wanted a very important reassurance before taking the proposed measures to Cabinet for their approval. Whilst George V had shown a far more magnanimous attitude to the Civil List than his predecessors, a recent bill to provide Prince George of Cumberland with an annuity upon his marriage was not well received in the Commons, even though it passed. The Prime Minister believed he could use the new legislation proposed to ringfence royal spending in the future to some extent, arguing that the Royal House Act should make clear that no dowries or annuities would be considered in parliament for members of the Royal House and that, if a member of the Royal Family married without consent and was granted membership of the Royal House they should be required to forfeit any financial assistance from parliament that would see a rise in the Civil List. In practise, this meant that if a member of the Royal Family married without consent, he may well become a member of the Royal House but he could never be granted an annuity by parliament and his only recourse to a payment from the Civil List would depend on the generosity of the Sovereign from existing funds. The King was wary but agreed when Graham suggested this alone would be enough to convince any opponents to other clauses in the two bills. Graham promised to introduce the reforms to Cabinet and “test the waters”.
But there was a catch. Graham looked down at Pollock’s handiwork and sipped at his port, mulling over his next move.
“Of course Your Majesty, even if the Cabinet approves of these measures and the government sponsors this legislation, I can give no guarantee that my colleagues in the House of Commons will vote in favour”
“I quite understand Prime Minister”, the King replied, “But nonetheless, I believe we have presented an approach which is eminently fair and practicable”
Graham gave a wry smile.
“Parliamentarians do not always favour things because they are fair or practicable Sir”, he said, “And I feel it my duty to warn Your Majesty that when parliament has considered such legislation before, the Royal Marriages Act for example, some members chose to vote the legislation down because they believed it was not correct, in principle, to pass a bill simply because the King wished it. Your late grandfather was himself accused of intimidating members into adopting the very legislation you now wish to repeal”
“Oh but that is intolerable – and most unfair”, George sighed frustratedly, “I should never intimidate and I recognise that parliament has the right to deny this legislation’s passage. I should like you to make that clear to your colleagues if this is to be considered on the floor of the House”
“And I shall do so Sir, I assure you…”, Graham enthused, “But if Your Majesty wishes me to introduce this legislation, I could not do so until the State Opening next year and if I may be so bold, it might serve our purpose far better if Your Majesty were…to remove yourself for a time…many of my colleagues come to the Palace on a regular basis, members of the other place too, I should like to ensure we leave no door open to those who may suggest pressure was being exerted”
“I would never do that!”, George barked, “Good God man, I’m no tyrant”
“Oh perish the thought Sir”, Graham replied hurriedly, “But you do see my meaning? We must chart the course carefully if we are to have success”
“Fine”, George grumbled, “Introduce it when I go to Hanover next year”
“Alas Sir”, the Prime Minister sighed, “Parliament shall be in recess then. But if Your Majesty were to take my proposals for a tour of Scotland next April…it would coincide with the anniversary of the visit of Your Majesty’s late father…a perfectly reasonable pretext…”
The King fixed Graham with a glare. He knew exactly what the Prime Minister was trying to do, though of course he didn’t yet grasp the true reason Graham wanted him to go to Scotland in the first place.
“Oh very well. Give Phipps the papers on the blessed tour”, the King said, a hint of steel in his voice, “We shall consider them”.
Graham stood up and bowed.
“Very good Your Majesty”, he said, “And meanwhile, I shall put these proposals to the Cabinet and report back at the earliest opportunity”
The King said nothing of all this to his family as they assembled for the Earl of Armagh’s wedding on the 3rd of November 1843. He decided that he would hold a small family summit before the act was introduced in 1844 instead. However, as monumental as his decision was, his attentions were quickly diverted with the arrival of the Anhalt-Dessaus to London. Though he had not set out to welcome the Duke of Cumberland personally when he arrived at St Katharine Dock, George V did so for the Anhalt-Dessaus when their ship arrived, even providing a phaeton in his own livery to convey them to Marlborough House. The same courtesy was extended to the Hesse-Kassels but not the Solms-Braunfels or the Prussians who were offered carriages decked out in the most junior royal livery and who had to make do with the Deputy Earl Marshal to greet them.
The Chapel Royal, Buckingham Palace, 1843.
The allocation of accommodation told its own story too. Whereas the other guests were squeezed into the relatively uncomfortable suites of St James’, the Anhalt-Dessaus were given two suites at Marlborough House; the Duke and Duchess (and their son the Hereditary Duke) took the apartment once used by the Dowager Queen Louise whilst the Anhalt daughters, Princess Agnes and Princess Maria Anna, were given an apartment all their own with two ladies maids provided for their comfort. In this apartment, the King had personally selected the floral arrangements, hand chosen the pages of the backstairs who would care for the girls and even put a landau at their disposal should they wish to travel independently – which did not please the Duchess of Anhalt-Dessau who was used to keeping her daughters under her careful watch at all times.
This special treatment did not go unnoticed, neither could anybody fail to spot that at the welcome luncheon given at Buckingham Palace the day before the wedding, Princess Agnes was seated far closer to the King in between Prince George of Cumberland and the Duke of Cambridge than precedence might otherwise allow. The Duke of Cumberland meanwhile was pushed as far down the table as possible, tucked in between the Bishop of London’s wife and Princess Marie Louise of Anhalt-Dessau, a princess of Hesse-Kassel by birth (and a first cousin to King George V) who had married Prince Frederick Augustus of Anhalt-Dessau in 1832, he being the brother of Duke Leopold IV, Princess Agnes’ father.
But among these Anhalt-Dessaus were also a whole host of Mecklenburg-Strelitzes, Hesse-Kassels, Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburgs and Hohenzollerns. It was one of the biggest assemblies of European royalty for quite some time and reports shared with the general public spoke of the grandeur of the occasion where “every guest can claim a castle or a crown of his own whilst ladies vied with each other to display their finest jewels”. A footnote mentioned that the Duke of Cumberland (“mercifully now a stranger to these shores”) was present but that immediately after the wedding ceremony itself, he left and did not attend the wedding breakfast given in honour of the Earl (and new Countess) of Armagh.
This was rumoured to be because the Duke was horrified to see that as his son made his way to the altar that morning, he had been granted the Order of the Garter which he proudly displayed on his Windsor uniform. This was not in any way unusual of course, Cumberland himself had the Garter (as did all of his brothers) but it seemed to have irritated the old Duke, presumably because it was a further sign that his son enjoyed the favour of the monarch and Cumberland did not. To make matters worse, not only had the Earl of Armagh been given an annuity by parliament of £5,000, but it was also gazetted on the morning of his wedding that he had been appointed Royal Colonel of the 13th Regiment of Foot which was renamed The Earl of Armagh’s Light Infantry in his honour. As if this wasn’t enough, in addition to serving His Majesty as the Ranger of Bushy Park and the Lieutenant of Hampton Court Chase, the King had appointed the Earl of Armagh to take over as the new Ranger of St James’ and Hyde Park. This increased the Earl of Armagh’s income to £18,000 a year – the same figure Cumberland had once enjoyed and which had been increasingly cut over the years. [7]
Citing tiredness in his old age, Cumberland returned to St James’ Palace where he gave a small supper for an old friend, the former Solicitor General, Sir Charles Wetherell. Wetherell was one of Cumberland’s staunchest supporters, a passionate opponent of Catholic emancipation who had seen his parliamentary career tumble when he took against the Duke of Wellington on the issue. Wetherell was now old and bitter, furious that he had not been elevated to the Lords by Sir James Graham – he had even selected his title, Earl of Boroughbridge – when the Prime Minister introduced an army of new Tory peers to the upper house. Wetherell had been asked to St James’ Palace by the Duke of Cumberland for far more than a helping of pilchards on toast, a bowl of potage and a slice of madeira cake. Cumberland was on manoeuvres once more.
Notes
[1] Something considered by almost every British monarch by George I in fact but which has never been allowed to get a foothold. The most obvious example was the proposal that Edward VIII be able to marry Wallis Simpson morganatically. This was rejected because it was felt that morganatic marriage could not be introduced for one individual alone, even if that individual was the King, and that it could have disastrous consequences in a world where peers had the hereditary right to sit in the legislature. It was also considered (by the 1930s anyway) to be a continental custom which could not easily be imposed on the UK without tearing up centuries of existing legislation, something no government was mad enough to embark upon.
[2] Missy’s children…
[3] In the OTL, Coburg was inherited by the Duke of Edinburgh as the second son of the late Prince Albert, brother of Duke Ernst II. But in TTL, Albert’s children cannot succeed to Coburg because under the terms of his marriage both he and they must be in communion with Rome. He was also required to relinquish claims to Coburg for himself and his children, regardless of Coburg's House Laws. So what happens to the Duchy in 1893? We shall see.
[4] Which they all were anyway but this makes primary was previously secondary. The use of
Highness was also not new to the Royal Family. This was granted to princes and princesses who were great-grandchildren of the sovereign in the male line with the exception of the children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales. Had George V and Elizabeth II not made changes to this approach, the Cambridge children would have been styled as
His/Her Highness until their grandfather acceded to the throne.
[5] Heavy stress on the AoS remaining in place!
[6] He wouldn’t have got anywhere if he did. Parliament has no authority over styles which can only be granted or revoked by the Sovereign as
hons honorum. Once again,
Prince is not a title but a style – only a peerage is truly a title.
[7] The Ranger post here would particularly sting for Cumberland as he fully expected to be given the post in the OTL by William IV and was overlooked for it with the Duke of Sussex appointed instead. In TTL, the likely trajectory would have been that the Duke of Clarence as Regent would have made the same decision and with Sussex’s death just before Armagh’s wedding, it makes him a natural for the post. But Cumberland still holds his post as Ranger of Windsor Great Park…for now. As stated in the chapter, these posts were highly valued because they came with an annuity for the duration – usually set at £5,000 a year.
So, why this change to the Royal Family/House?
This was never intended to be a wander through the OTL with new faces. The purpose of TTL is to showcase an alternative to the British monarchy under Queen Victoria (and beyond). I believe this is the first of many big changes which sets the course of the monarchy in TTL on a very different path to that of the monarchy in the OTL. Possibly for the better…possibly for the worst. I had always intended to introduce this theme in TTL (a theme actually considered by the OTL King Edward VII which sparked the concept) but I had to wait until now to lay enough groundwork to make it plausible. I needed the King to have a strong motive (George Cambridge/the Duke of Sussex) but I also needed him to be in a position where the succession was more secure than when he first came to the throne. He has three children after all. Now a counter argument would be, what if all three marry in contravention to this new act? They’d all lose their succession rights? Well, I’d consider that to be an unlikely outcome anyway but I would argue that by taking this action, George is actively thinking about what he might do if his own children followed Cambridge’s example and installing a deterrent to ensure they do not. That said, what if an Edward VIII hoves into view? Could he manipulate this to get his way?
Equally, there are more subtle changes here which could inspire dramatic events in the future. Note that George V has forbidden a successor to change the name of the Royal House – though an amendment to the act would make it possible. If we go down the same OTL route, how does this affect things in 1917? Equally, more intimate relations to the Sovereign, even his own grandchildren, could be deprived of their titles were the situation in TTL the same as that in the OTL. What of a Princess Margaret type figure? Is her life made easier or more difficult with this system? Does the future bring changes to the legislation on the position of Catholics or divorcees? How would a future Charles III be affected? Has George V taken an action that spares the British Crown years of scandal or has he unwittingly opened the door to more complex clashes long after his time? We shall see…
One final point – an important one – is how these reforms (if indeed they are passed) would be taken in Hanover. At this stage in TTL, George V has done much to repair the broken relationship between the British Sovereign and his people in Hanover. Yet Hanover may well be looking at a situation whereby they lose their permanent royal representative at Herrenhausen for the first time in decades…and there is no obvious successor given that George V may very well want the Armaghs to stay in England to carry out royal duties. Will that weaken the bond? Equally, what if Graham gets his way and manages to curtail the King’s annual visits to Hanover? And on these reforms specifically, how will the people of Hanover take it when they see that (even though the styles relate to the Royal House and not the Kingdom itself), their homeland seems to be nothing more than a dumping ground for the spares and the sinners?
This isn’t an approach I’ve invented. It’s one many monarchies have taken over the years for different reasons and with different outcomes. But I think it’s one that’s fascinating to explore in a UK context. I hope I’ve done enough to make this change feel plausible and that the groundwork makes it a logical conclusion. But also, that it shows just what sort of King our George V is shaping up to be. He’s maturing into his role and thinking about the future. And naturally, this may also lead him to conclude that his future may be a happier one with someone else in it…
And for those who wanted a Prince Albert update, stay tuned, it's on it's way in just a short while!