Crimenutely. I can’t quite believe the flap that’s taking place in my native Britain this week over the King’s Coronation invitation.
First, let me say that I think it’s a lovely piece of artwork. Sure, it’s being criticized as looking like a page from a child’s coloring book, but I think it’s delightful. Here’s the invitation, created with non-toxic paints and inks, and printed on recycled cardstock:
The whole thing was designed, and the original painstakingly hand-painted by Andrew Jamieson, and chosen from the submissions received, upon request, from Britain’s Art Workers’ Guild, of which Mr. Jamieson is a member.
Symbolism abounds, from the “Green Man” at the bottom, to the carefully selected flowers, insects and birds throughout, and the heraldic coats-of-arms in the upper corners. The general idea is that the border mimics a British “wildflower meadow,” reflecting the King’s love of nature and the environment.
Spot on, I say.
But–seemingly–none of those carefully thought-out tributes, and exquisitely penned and painted illustrations matter a jot.
All that matters are the two words that have taken a nation by storm and thrown it into paroxysms of–in apparently equal parts–rage, dismay, and disbelief, together with a smaller proportion of supportive voices who are, seemingly at the moment, almost drowned out.
Those two words, shown in Mr. Jamieson’s careful calligraphy, whose lettering style is his own, and which he says is loosely based on a Renaissance italic, are these:
Glory Be. Camilla Parker Bowles. Harry’s “wicked stepmother.” Diana’s “Rottweiler.” The scarlet woman.
I’m not even going there in this post. There’s so much water under the bridge, and so many wrongs done on all sides, for so long, that I simply won’t.
But I am going to talk about language. And about a fait-accompli: Camilla is married to the current King of England (who is not the first of his ilk to be divorced).
And as such, she takes on an equivalent title to her husband.
Oh, sure, in the throes of all the “troubles” many years ago, folks floated the idea that Camilla might be known as the “Princess Consort” (an equivalent title-for-tattle with that for the husband of a reigning monarch). Prince Philip, whose lineage is often regarded as more royal than that of the late Queen, was–technically–the “Prince Consort,” a title he didn’t like, preferring to style himself as Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. So, as a courtesy, that’s what he was called. Didn’t alter the fact that he was the Prince Consort, though. (Yes, perhaps you’ve spotted it: things aren’t symmetrical when it comes to these titles. A woman takes on an equivalent title to her man–the wife of a ruling King is a Queen. But the husband of a ruling Queen is a Prince. Deal with it.**)
So, in fact, as well as in law, Camilla is the Queen.
But what sort of Queen is she? Well, that’s where it gets interesting:
When it comes to the reigning nuclear family, there are two types of Queens in Britain: Queens Consort and Queens Regnant.
Queens Regnant are those who rule as sovereign. They inherit the throne because there is no male heir between them and it. The late Queen Elizabeth II (married to her consort, Prince Philip) was a Queen Regnant. As were Queen Victoria, Anne, Elizabeth I, and a couple of others. (Victoria’s consort was Prince Albert. Anne’s consort was Prince George. Elizabeth never married. Please pay attention, because I will be asking questions later.)
Queens Consort are women who are married to a reigning king. There are more of them (because, more kings) than there are Queens Regnant. Just over the past century or so, we’ve had Queen Consort Elizabeth, Queen Consort Mary, and Queen Consort Alexandra. (We were, mercifully, spared the specter of “Queen Consort Wallis.”)
Not a single one of these women was ever–in the public imagination or in any formal or informal circumstance after their husbands were crowned–referred to as “Queen Consort Whatshername.” It was “Queen Elizabeth,” “Queen Mary,” and “Queen Alexandra.”
That’s just how it is. Deal with it.
As with “Prince Consort Philip,” the underlying reality doesn’t change. Shortening the title of the King’s wife simply to “Queen” is a courtesy, or a convenience, or sometimes just less of a mouthful. That’s all. Underneath, she’s still the Queen Consort.
“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function–F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Boy, howdy. And I don’t even like Fitzgerald.
This isn’t all that hard, folks. Just get over it, please. Camilla is the Queen Consort, and going forward, she’ll be referred to as “Queen [Her Name]” just like all the others.
(For those of you who are still with me, there are a few other ancillary sorts of Queens. There are “Queens Dowager,” women whose husband the King has died. They’re still Queens. But not the Queen. There was the “Queen Mother,” an informal title given to Elizabeth II’s mother, also named Elizabeth (who was technically the Dowager Queen) in order to alleviate the confusion between the two. And there might be, on very rare occasions, a Queen Regent.***)
These are the sorts of truths that little British girl children (or at any rate, any self-respecting granddaughter of Molly Jubb, who had a magnificent set of “coronation silver” in her flatware drawer, and who was a veritable treasure-trove of useless information when it came to the British Royal Family) used to know by heart and carry about with them for life. While I’m very certain that Granny would have deplored the marital shenanigans on all sides that led to the current living situation in Buck House (or wherever it is that Charles and Camilla have taken to shacking up), she’d have been very clear on the title business. Thanks, Granny.
**It’s the same with other ranks of nobility: When Ethel Sproggs marries Lord Dumbledore, she becomes Lady Dumbledore. Just as when Cora Levinson married Robert, Viscount Downton, she became the Viscountess Downton, and then–when Robert inherited his father’s title, Cora became the Countess Grantham. However, when Princess Ann married Captain Mark Phillips (and subsequently when she married Admiral Tim Laurence), the men didn’t automatically become Princes upon their marriage. There are plenty of arcane rules governing matters at all levels, occasionally resulting in some surprises, but that’s the general idea. Please try to keep up.
***If you’re dying to know more (and why wouldn’t you be?), this is a very helpful introduction to the types of Queens in the British Royal Family, and the roles they play.
