Hello Mother, Hello Father

The fifty-ninth Parliament of the United Kingdom assembled for the first time today. As usual the first business was the re-election of the Speaker of the House of Commons.

The custom is that proceedings for the election of a speaker are presided over by the member, present in the chamber and not being a minister, with the longest continuous service. As of last week’s general election that member is Sir Edward Leigh, an MP since 1983. His predecessor, Sir Peter Bottomley (MP since 1975) sought re-election but was defeated. Had Leigh also been defeated then the task would have fallen to Jeremy Corbyn of Islington North (formerly Leader of the Labour Party, but now sitting as an independent).

This person also usually has the honorific title “Father of the House”. I say usually because the Father need only be the member with the longest continuous service, and there can be times when that person is also a minister and/or not present in the chamber for the speaker’s election. So far the title has always been Father and never Mother, for no woman has yet achieved this distinction.

In 2015 Harriet Harman declared herself Mother of the House on account of being the female MP with the longest continuous service (since 1982 in her case) and this caught on with a few other senior members (including prime ministers Cameron and May). It is not quite clear why Harman only claimed the status in 2015 given that it was already true a parliament earlier, nor whether this title ought to be applied retroactively all the way to Nancy Astor.

Harman would have been the actual Mother of the House and the member presiding had she been returned at this election, but she chose to retire and ascend to the Lords instead, as did runner-up Dame Margaret Beckett. That left Diane Abbott, MP for Hackney North and Stoke Newington since 1987, the most senior female member and the fifth most senior overall. She was called Mother of the House several times during speeches, and given a place of high precedence during the day’s events – i.e. taking the oath before the cabinet ministers did.

Despite the timetable not being as urgent, the fifty-ninth Parliament copied the fifty-eighth in having two royal commissions on the same day, one to actually open the session and the other to give the speaker-elect his approbation. In previous parliaments the approbation commission was deferred to the next day of sitting. As in 2019, the letters patent appointing the Lords commissioners were not read again the second time MPs arrived at the bar.

I noticed that the expedition from the lower house to the upper for the first commission was unusually small, consisting only of Leigh, Abbott and six other members (plus Black Rod and the Clerk of the House of course).

Finally I will note that the coordination of the hat-doffing by the commissioners themselves was frankly woeful. On the first occasion Lords Laming and True forgot to do it at all!

FURTHER READING

The Emperor’s New Collar

Naruhito & Masako, Emperor & Empress of Japan, conducted a three day visit to the United Kingdom this week. It was the third state visit to Britain during the present reign, and the first monarchical one since that by the King & Queen of the Netherlands in 2018.

The visit consisted of the expected activities – a state banquet at Buckingham Palace, then another banquet at the London Guildhall, as well as military parades and presentations.

According to the Court Circular for 25 June, the palace guest list included “Mr. Christopher Broad (Founder of YouTube channel, Abroad in Japan)”. This is thought to be the first time that a prominent YouTuber has been invited to a state event specifically in that capacity.

As is customary during state visits, the monarchs exchanged appointments to their respective orders of chivalry: Charles received the Collar of the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum while Naruhito became a Stranger Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. It is a shame that his visit was not a few days earlier, or he could have marched in the procession.

File:Coat of Arms of Japanese Emperor (Knight of the Garter Variant).svg

Sodacan’s representation of the Japanese Garter arms.

Naruhito ascended the imperial throne in 2019 when his father Akihito abdicated. Japan now joins Spain and the Netherlands in having two Garter stalls simultaneously. What makes the Japanese representation different to the Spanish and Dutch is the different style of heraldry. The Japanese Imperial Seal is a mon representing a stylised chrysanthemum flower. Mon are normally standalone objects without a background – more visually similar to a Western crest or livery badge than a shield of arms. To make the symbol compatible with European heraldic customs for use in St George’s Chapel it is typically presented as the lone charge on a red background for the shield and banner, then again without a background as the crest atop the helm. The Emperor paid a private visit to Windsor Castle to view his predecessors’ stall plates there and to lay a floral wreath on Elizabeth II’s tomb.

The state banquet also marked the first appearance of the Royal Family Order of Charles III. Dating back to the reign of George IV, the royal family orders are an informal and highly personal decoration restricted to senior royal women. Each consists of a silk ribbon from which hangs a jeweled miniature portrait of the sovereign. The orders do not always have formal classes but their badges tend to come in different sizes which correlate to the seniority of the recipient. The colour of the ribbon varies: Charles III follows George V in using pale blue, whereas Victoria used white, Edward VII blue and red lined with gold, George VI pink and Elizabeth II yellow. The Queen was seen wearing the new Carolean order immediately above the Elizabethan one she received as Duchess of Cornwall in 2007, and there is a clear difference in size. The Duchess of Edinburgh also wore Elizabeth’s order to the banquet.

This state visit was a little unusual in that it happened during a general election campaign. Some changes had to be made to the itinerary to cut out the more obviously political elements: Unlike previous visiting sovereigns, the Emperor did not make an address to Parliament (since their isn’t one) and while the cabinet and opposition leaders attended the state banquet they did not have individual meetings with him. Notably Sir Keir Starmer and Sir Edward Davey were not wearing their respective knightly insignia.

Washing Up, Washing Out

Yesterday evening the fifty-eighth Parliament of the United Kingdom was prorogued for the fourth and final time, pending dissolution next Thursday. This meant that MPs had just two days of “wash up” in which any bills already in the pipeline are either hurried to completion or abandoned altogether.

Parliament is not always prorogued before dissolution, sometime it is merely adjourned – in the past fifty years the 46th, 47th, 48th, 49th, 52nd, 53rd and 57th parliaments were all open-ended. Irrespective of whether or not a prorogation was involved, the time elapsed between a parliament’s last sitting day and its dissolution varies highly: For the second general election of 1974 it seems that the 46th Parliament sat last on 31st July before rising for the summer recess then got dissolved on 20th September just before it could convene again, whereas in 1992 the 50th Parliament sat last and was dissolved on the same day.*

Rishi Sunak’s motivation for this particular timetable is unclear – if he had let the legislature sit on 28th and 29th May it would have allowed four days instead of two to finish business, so that fewer bills would have needed to be dropped. Perhaps Sunak felt it would be a waste of commuting time to sit for just two days between the bank holiday and the dissolution. Some have also speculated that he wanted Parliament closed as soon as possible to reduce the opportunity for his backbenchers to unseat him as party leader. A precedent might be found in John Major in 1997, who had the 51st Parliament prorogued more than a fortnight before it was dissolved and was suspected of doing so to block the publication of a select committee report against Neil Hamilton.

When a general election is looming, incumbent MPs have to make a decision: Step down and make one’s valedictory speech in the chamber before prorogation, or stand again and risk having to make it instead from the returning officer’s podium in the early hours after polls close. By the time the house closed more than a hundred members (over seventy of them Conservatives) had chosen the first option. The valedictory debate lasted nearly seven hours and obviously I have not yet been able to properly take in all of the speeches. So far my favourites were Sir James Duddridge (with its interventions by both Alicia Kearns and Dame Eleanor Laing), Julian Knight (who took the chance to lash out at former colleagues who had wronged him) and Tim Loughton (differentiating knowledge from wisdom in terms of putting tomatoes in fruit salads).

The prorogation ceremony was carried out in the usual way. There were two substitutions among the Lords Commissioners – Liberal Democrat leader Lord Newby was replaced by his deputy Lord Dholakia (as in 2019) while Convenor of the Crossbench peers Lord Kinnoull (still not a privy council member) stayed on the crossbenches and left his place on the woolsack to his predecessor-but-two Lord Laming. Eleven acts received assent.

As in the prorogation last November, the letters patent acknowledged that there had been a demise of the crown since the last general election, hence the phrase

…whereas Queen Elizabeth The Second did lately for divers difficult and pressing affairs concerning Us the State and defence of Our United Kingdom and Church ordain this Our present Parliament to begin and be holden at Our City of Westminster the seventeenth day of December in the sixty-eighth year of Her Reign on which day Our said Parliament was begun and holden and is there now holden…

which as Jack Blackburn of The Times aptly pointed out is the last time that the former monarch will be mentioned in Parliament in this context.

As I have mentioned before, the dissolution of Parliament creates a headache for Wikipedia editors as hundreds of people who for years or even were incumbent members of the House of Commons cease to be so for a matter of weeks, then (most of them) become so again after polling day. This time, rather than have many of us hurriedly scouring hundreds of pages to remove any trace of incumbency, I am trialing a solution I piloted at the devolved elections three years ago by placing a disclaimer tag at the top of each affected article. The beauty of this trick is that the template can be centrally edited, so I can go at a more leisurely pace adding it to MPs’ articles in the days before dissolution with the notice written in future tense and then on the day of dissolution change it to present tense. Of course, that still leaves a lot of work making long-term edits to the pages of those members who will permanently leave the house at this election (whether willingly or not) and creating new pages for their successors.

EXTERNAL LINKS

House of Commons Library

Privy Council Office

UPDATE (2nd June)

When looking through the Hansard records for this sitting, I noticed an interesting mistake:

End of the Fifth Session (opened on 7 November 2023) of the Fifty-Eighth Parliament of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland in the Second Year of the Reign of His Majesty King Charles the Third.

The last sitting day before 7th November 2023 was 26th October, and the record for that day says it was the end of the third session. Quite when the fourth session came and went I have no idea.

*The 1993 documentary Days of Majesty covers the prorogation and dissolution process.

Why stop when you’re on a roll?

Today marks the first anniversary of Their Majesties’ coronation, and there have been some public ceremonies to commemorate.

A few days ago the coronation roll was unveiled, serving as a written record of the proceedings that took place in the abbey (and some of the key events leading up to it) as well as listing all the prominent attendees. As this was the first British coronation to take place in the internet age, a digital version of the roll has also been set up, interlaced with video interviews from many of the core participants.

David Torrance has produced a lengthy briefing document for the House of Commons library about it.

While I’m here, there is another aspect of the coronation on which I’d like to look back – the status of the chairs on which Their Majesties sat during the ceremony. Some weeks before the event the antiquarian Dr Allan Barton put out a video called When Is a Chair a Throne? The answer, essentially, is that it must be on some form of dais to raise it above the floor.

At the business end of the abbey during the coronation there are five seats of special importance: Closest to the alter is St Edward’s Chair, the ancient wooden relic on which the monarch is actually crowned. A few metres behind, in the crossing, sit two “throne chairs”, in this case a pair of X-framed armchairs (almost looking like something a film director would use) originally made for George VI & Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon. Perpendicular to these are chairs of estate, these ones originally made for Elizabeth II and Philip Mountbatten, allowing the couple to sit behind their respective faldstools.

From what I can see in images of past coronations, both painted and photographic, a pattern is clear – the consort’s throne sits on three steps and the monarch’s throne on five, while the chairs of estate and St Edward’s chair sit directly on the floor. The 2023 coronation breaks the trend – the monarch’s X-framed chair has just one block underneath it while the consort’s counterpart has none at all (though it still has upholstered footstools in front). Does this mean that, technically, only one of these chairs counts as a throne?

IMAGE REFERENCES

That Time of Year Again

Lord Kakkar by Roger Harris, 2019 (CC-BY-3.0)

St George’s Day – 23rd April – is the traditional day for announcing new appointments to the Order of the Garter. The King today named three new ordinary knights and one new royal lady:

  • The Lord Peach, Chief of the Defence Staff 2016-18. This is fairly unsurprising as another former chief, Lord Stirrup, is also part of the order, as were many other (though not all) chiefs before him.
  • The Lord Kakkar, former Chairman of the Appointments Commissions for both the House of Lords and the Judiciary. He is most prominently known for his work in business and medicine.
  • The Lord Lloyd-Webber, one of the musical composers for the coronation, is probably the most famous. It is perhaps a little surprising that he went directly to the Garter and was not offered the Royal Victorian Order first.
  • The Duchess of Gloucester, President of the Royal Academy of Music since 1997. This appointment is a bit of a departure from convention as, while royals by birth are nearly all given the Garter as a matter of course (Princess Margaret and Prince Michael being odd exceptions), royals by marriage (unless their spouse be first in line to the throne or already sitting on it) generally are not. This honour is presumably in thanks for the additional duties the duchess has taken on since the winding down of Elizabeth II’s reign, and in particular during Charles III’s recent illness. It remains to be seen if the Duchess of Kent will be extended the same.

In addition to these appointments, there was some reshuffling of honorary offices among the other orders of chivalry which in recent years had fallen vacant or merged with the crown: The Queen was made Grand Master of the Order of the British Empire (last held by the Prince Philip, 1953-2021) while the Prince of Wales was made Great Master of the Order of the Bath (last held by Charles himself from 1974 until his accession).

The most revolutionary of today’s changes regards the Order of the Companions of Honour. This was created in 1917 alongside the Order of the British Empire and designed to reward outstanding achievements in art, science, medicine or public service among people who would not accept titular dignities. Appointments are made on ministerial advice. Currently the order has a quota of sixty-five ordinary members, of which two places are currently vacant. There is also one honorary member, the Indian economist Amartya Sen. Until now, no member of the royal family had been appointed a Companion of Honour. Given the origins of the institution, it seems a little odd that His Majesty (or the Prime Minister) would choose to create the supernumerary category of Royal Companion (similar to that in the Garter), and to make his daughter-in-law the Princess of Wales the first incumbent. This stands in contrast to the Order of Merit, in which Elizabeth II appointed both her husband and her son as full members on the same basis as all the others.

In armorial terms, obviously this will mean four new banners to hang in St George’s Chapel. The Duchess of Gloucester’s arms are well-known, and I have already found and illustrated those of Lord Kakkar (though doubtless his increased prominence will lead to a better rendering by a different artist soon enough), but Peach and Lloyd-Webber are a mystery – the former having been ennobled too recently to appear in the last print of Debrett’s.

UPDATE (24th April)

There are now three vacancies among the Companions of Honour, as it transpires that the Lord Field of Birkenhead died while I was writing this post.

Review: Charles III by Robert Hardman

Robert Hardman is no stranger to royal biography, having already penned quite a handful about Elizabeth II in the last decade or so of her life, including Queen of Our Times which came out in March 2022 as part of her Platinum Jubilee season and then in December of the same year was released again in a “commemorative edition” to update for the fact that she’d died. Now he moves into the present reign with a biography of her eldest son. I am a little confused about the title of this one as the British publication is called “Charles III: New King. New Court. The Inside Story”1 but on Google Books I can see that the United States version is called “The Making of a King: King Charles III and the Modern Monarchy”. I suspect the titles must be written this way for SEO purposes, or perhaps he just couldn’t decide which description he wanted so used all of them at once. It must be quite a fraught process to come up with a distinctive and meaningful name for a biography when you know that lots of other biographies will be documenting the same person and all competing to emerge in future history as the one definitive authority thereon. Most likely in the long run the general public (maybe academics too) will discard the pretentious subtitle and just remember it as “[AUTHOR] on [SUBJECT]” (e.g. “Jenkins on Churchill”) instead.

Hardman’s lengthy volume covers the first year of the New Carolean era. As one might expect, this period in royal history was particularly dominated by two big ceremonial events: His mother’s funeral and his own coronation. In the book, the funeral (as well as the period of Operation London Bridge leading up to it) takes up chapters 3, 4 and 5 while the planning and execution of the coronation takes 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14. That makes for nine chapters out of a total of eighteen across the whole book. The coronation section in particular is loaded with dense historical comparisons, detailing not just the crowning of Charles III but also quite a lot about those of George VI an Elizabeth II. A less charitable reader may accuse Hardman of padding here, though doubtless a lot of the innovations (and omissions) of 2023 cannot be fully appreciated without an understanding of what came before. Anyone buying this book at first printing will, doubtless, have already watched the public side of these events on television as they were happening, so the real value of these chapters is in reading the personal accounts of the people involved as to what went on behind the scenes, such as the aide who spontaneously hugged Princess Anne to console her in her grief, the brigadier getting a summons back to London while giving a speech at his daughter’s wedding in Corfu, the Duke of Norfolk getting his GCVO investiture in a rush so he could wear his sash in the procession or the royal pages being packed off into a side room with some video games. It is worth mentioning as well that Hardman directed a BBC documentary about the coronation and some other aspects of royal life that year which aired at Christmas and can be seen in some ways as the prelude to this book.

The other chapters are about the personalities of Charles & Camilla, the looming political challenges for the institution of the crown and some of the other projects in which the sovereign couple have engaged themselves (such as the Prince’s Trust/Charity/Foundation organisations which now all have to be renamed). The running thread is the process of establishing Charles’s approach to kingship and the need to assert, like most new incumbents whose predecessors served an unusually-long time, that he is his own person and is not obliged to become a clone of his forbear with whom the institution had become synonymous. Charles, of all our sovereigns, had the longest pre-accession life and a brings with him a much more complete (and publicly-known) individual persona, which makes this task all the more pressing. I was amused to read in Chapter 15 that an unnamed senior courtier refers to this as “Doctor Who syndrome”, showing that the habit of explaining the British constitution in terms of that franchise is one that runs all the way to the top. Given the relative perceptions of the new king and his late mother, I would especially see parallels to Colin Baker succeeding Peter Davidson, or Capaldi following Tennant and Smith.

Being acutely aware of some of the less-sympathetic perceptions that have swirled around the royal family as a whole in recent years, and around Charles in particular for many decades, Hardman occasionally includes explicit references to and arguments against ideas emanating from either that acclaimed Netflix drama or statements by the exiled Duke & Duchess of Sussex. At times it can feel as if he has a bit of an axe to grind. It’s probably redundant in any event, as the people likely to be credulous of the claims he’s refuting are not likely to picking up his book in the first place. I’d like to think this is merely a demonstration of Hardman’s passion for truth over sensationalism, but I can’t entirely trust him on that front given he writes for the Daily Mail after all.

These minor quibbles aside, New King New Court is an engaging and enlightening work which I would recommend to anyone interested in the topic area, though any customer (or library) sinking their money into the original edition now may wind up feeling short-changed he does another expanded version in the near future.

1The use of full stops means that the title mercifully evades what TV Tropes calls “Colon Cancer”, though I would have preferred commas.

Waving the White Flag

In recent weeks there has been some reshuffling of responsibilities within the royal family: The King and the Princess of Wales have both been undergoing cancer treatment, limiting their ability to carry out public engagements away from their residences. Consequently, a greater burden has fallen on His Majesty’s wife and ever-trusty sister.

The Queen’s recent sole engagements have included Douglas City Hall on the Isle of Man (for the presentation of the letters patent to confer city status), and Worcester Cathedral (for the Maundy service ahead of Easter).

As was noted in Mark Scott’s lecture a month ago, the granting of banners of arms to members of the royal family is a separate event from the granting of the armorial achievement itself (rather than being automatic as it would be for lesser armigers). Eighteen months into her tenure as queen consort, it appears that Camilla’s own banner has not been granted, for I have repeatedly seen the Bentley State Limousine flying the ermine-bordered version of the royal standard used for lesser members of the firm who had not been granted personalised heraldic flags of their own, while the shield affixed to the roof shows the arms of the sovereign undifferenced.

As is so often the case, the Wikimedia Community have moved much faster than reality – a graphic representing Camilla’s banner as queen consort was uploaded preemptively way back in 2016 and has been used in multiple articles since her husband’s accession. Perhaps this will need to be revised in light of new evidence.

PHOTOGRAPHIC REFERENCES

In Honour of the Occasion

Photograph by sbclick, 2011 (CC-BY-1.0)

In theory the monarch can bestow practically any accolade on any person at any time and for any reason. In practice, since the late Victorian age there has been a trend towards grouping announcements into two big lists each year – one in June for the sovereign’s official birthday, one in December for the upcoming new year. There are also smaller lists issued at irregular intervals to commemorate particular events e.g. the deaths of senior royals, the dissolutions of parliaments and the resignations of prime ministers. The latter two types tend to be particularly controversial.

Wikipedians have generally maintained pages for all of the lists, great and small. They  have also created an annual page called “Special Honours”, which they use as a catch-all term for those titles and decorations which were issued outside of any named occasion.

Today’s announcement is a little confusing for those seeking categorisation – the Prime Minister’s office has released a list of honours and appointments for March 2024. The document as a whole does not have any particular name, but paragraphs within it do: Creative Industries Honours, Technology & Artificial Intelligence Honours, and Political Honours. The former has provoked the most recognition, appointing film producer Emma Thomas as a DBE and her husband Christopher Nolan (already a CBE since 2019) as a knight bachelor. There is also a short list new privy counsellors (e.g. Vaughan Gething, recently appointed as First Minister of Wales), though whether these count as honours in the way knighthoods do is debatable.

This new publication comes just forty-eight days after the list of “Political Peerages” (e.g. yet more new members of the House of Lords). It eludes me why today’s list was not brought forward to be merged with that one, or pushed back to fold in with the Birthday Honours in June. The only likely explanation is that these were Rishi Sunak’s personal picks and he (or His Majesty) wanted that distinction made clear in the public mind. Of course, that could also have been achieved by waiting for the looming dissolution honours at this year’s general election – or indeed Sunak’s resignation honours, which may well come earlier!

Edward gets the Thistle

The Prince Edward seems to have made a habit of collecting new titles on his birthdays. For the occasion of his wedding in 1999 he was ennobled as Earl of Wessex and Viscount Severn. These both refer to places in England, in contrast with the normal convention for royal peerages. On his fifty-fifth birthday he gained a surprise Scottish title – Earl of Forfar – and then for his fifty-ninth he gained another, long-awaited and far more prestigious one – Duke of Edinburgh. Now that his primary title refers to a Scottish place – and the capital at that – it would seem a little strange for him not to join Scotland’s highest order of chivalry.

It was not exactly surprising, then, to learn that on his sixtieth birthday he had been appointed an Extra Knight of the Order of the Thistle. In this category he joins his nephew the Duke of Rothesay and his sisters the Queen and the Princess Royal. We can expect that soon his banner of arms will be hung alongside theirs at the High Kirk in his namesake city.

The King also announced three new appointments among the ordinary membership of the order – the Baroness Black of Strome, the Baroness Kennedy of The Shaws and Sir Godfrey “Geoff” Palmer – all of whom, curiously, have academic careers. This brings the order up to its full complement of sixteen members (excluding royals). It is unusual for all the appointments to be made today as traditionally they are announced on 18th June.

Finally, a concurrent press release confirmed that the duke had been appointed to a second term as Lord High Commissioner to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, a post which he last held in 2014-15. In the Scottish order of precedence he will rank immediately below the sovereign himself, rather than his natural precedence as a brother thereof.

Notes on the Memorial of Constantine II at Windsor

People of prominence often find that one period of mourning is not enough. For many of high status there will be the funeral itself within weeks of their death and then a separate, less formal, memorial service as much as a year later. Prince Philip had one of these in 2022, as did Lady Boothroyd last month.

Constantine II, King of the Hellenes 1964-73, died on 10 January 2023 and his funeral was held in Athens six days later. Yesterday a thanksgiving service took place at St George’s Chapel, Windsor, hosted and attended by the British royals.

Although it was a British-hosted event, only the Greek family’s website seems to list the order of service or any photographs. The order of service is has the late monarch’s arms illustrated on the first cover and those of the Order of the Garter on the last. This time the illustration is not that by Sodacan for Wikimedia Commons. I cannot identify the artist for this one, nor which typeface was used for the prose.

Most intriguing about the online material is that it highlights the contribution of the Lord Soames of Fletching. There is even a link to his website, which is still up even though it clearly hasn’t been updated since the most recent general election.