If King Charles wants a ‘slimmed down’, low-calorie royal family, we can thank Queen Victoria for bequeathing us the plus-size version. Responding in horror to the antics of her naughty uncles, who raked about being unsuitable and having mistresses, she set herself and her nine children to public duty and procreation: go forth and multiply, indeed. Her grandson George V envisaged a vast, bemedalled horde, trotting all over the Empire. At one point in the early 20th century, you couldn’t move for minor royals. Oops – mind that equerry! Edinburghs, Waleses, Connaughts, Fifes: you couldn’t visit a hospital without witnessing a royal plaque unveiling. And they were popular, too. My great-great-grandfather named his boat after Princess Patricia.
Part of the raison d’être of a royal family is to bestow honour on the ordinary. Ribbons, after all, can’t cut themselves
Of course, there was the abdication crisis, which rather culled the royal numbers. Even if there had been a second Duke of Windsor, it’s unlikely he would have been enticed back (although a French-American royal would have been a jolly thing). Nevertheless, there remained a flock of Kents and Gloucesters, on whom Queen Elizabeth II relied, and whose public efforts are largely unreported, though they have a lasting effects.
Part of the raison d’être of a royal family is to bestow honour on the ordinary. Ribbons, after all, can’t cut themselves. The Duke of Gloucester trained as an architect, and had to give it up when his brother died: there’s a lovely video of him opening a school ICT centre, with some seriously dry wit. My autistic brother met the Countess of Wessex (as she was then) when she came to his centre; the pleasure that attended her visit lasted for weeks. Difficult, dangerous, boring, unfashionable work is given a lift. Somebody who doesn’t have to take an interest does so, both in the work itself, and in you. A shake of the hand, a quip, a twinkle of the eye. More importantly, a realisation that here are two humans meeting and sharing their humanity: under the coronet lies a skull.
Republicans would argue that a politician can perform the same function. But I remember the serene way in which the Queen visited the Grenfell Tower site many times after the fire; and the manic way in which Theresa May did the same. What kind of reception would President Johnson, or Blair, have received?
There are no public roles for the younger Kents and Gloucesters, who are essentially private citizens. Few would recognise them (try asking a colleague who the Earls of St Andrews and Ulster are. I’ll give you a tenner if they know). Closer to the King, Peter Phillips and Zara Tindall are subjected to press scrutiny, and yet are not ‘working’ members. It seems that the children of the York princesses will go the same way. A royal family consisting of the King, his wife, two siblings (the Princess Royal and the Duke of Edinburgh), and his eldest son and daughter-in-law seems less slimmed down and more anorexic.
Maybe it’s time for King Charles to cast a wider net. He could create some new Duke- and Earldoms. George V’s children were too young to perform public duties, so his cousin Prince Arthur of Connaught stepped in. Couldn’t some of the more distant rellies be co-opted?
How glorious it would be to have a Duke of Albany hanging about, like in King Lear. There could be Earldoms for Beatrice and Eugenie’s husbands, reflecting, like the Earl of Snowdon, a part of the United Kingdom which hasn’t previously been used. Old titles could be dusted off: we could resuscitate the Earl of East Anglia. Lady Louise Windsor seems like a good egg, perhaps she might take on a more prominent role as Princess Louise of Edinburgh? And wouldn’t it be fabulous to see Earl Tindall on the balcony at Buck House?
These are, of course, real people, with real lives, hopes and desires. The Duke of Gloucester might have been happier as an architect, and I imagine that many would balk in his situation. And yet, there is something so admirable about honour, self-sacrifice and duty which, in this world focused solely on the self, seems increasingly rare and precious. If we’re going to have a royal family, we might as well have one with all the trimmings. Here’s to Clarences, Macduffs and Avondales aplenty.
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