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Meet Friederike Thyra Marion Wilhelmine Dorothea Von Der Osten—a 61-year-old German homeopathic
doctor, whose ridiculously long name is only the second weirdest thing about her, because
it turns out that if the British rules of succession were just slightly different, Friederike
would have a job even less useful to society than homeopathy: being the Queen of England.
To understand why, we have to start in 1066, with the first Norman king of England, William
I, or William the Conqueror, as historians call him, or Dumbhat McLongbeard, as I like
to call him.
Since William, the English Crown has traditionally been passed down to the king’s first-born
son—a system based in tradition, common law, sexism, and the fact that nobody had
figured out how to rig Dominion voting machines just yet.
But, sometimes, either because the king couldn’t provide a male heir, or because of war or
political machinations or other assorted hijinks and tomfoolery, succession could be a bit
slippery.
Fights over succession are how we got the War of the Roses, and the 2019 and 2020 Emmys
for Best Drama.
But eventually, the dirty, disgusting masses invented some silly-sounding things called
“rights” and “elections” or whatever, and the English Parliament got involved in
setting the rules of succession.
In 1688, James II, who was also technically James VII because of confusing Scottish reasons
we don’t have time for, fled England, and Parliament declared he had “abdicated the
government,” and that the throne was now open.
By tradition, it should have gone to James’ firstborn son, who was eight months old, but
instead, because of a combination of not wanting a Catholic dynasty, and not wanting to have
the government run by an eight-month old baby who hadn’t even finished college, Parliament
offered the throne to James’ daughter, Mary, and her Husband, William of Orange, who would
rule together.
By making this offer, Parliament officially established that it had the power to make
the rules about succession, which they then formalized through the Bill of Rights of 1689
and Act of Settlement of 1701, which laid out the rules of succession that are mainly
still used in Britain today.
The first rule of succession specifically bans from being in line for the throne, anyone
who, “shall profess the Popish religion or shall marry a papist,” which is old-timey
speak for anyone who is Roman Catholic or married to a Roman Catholic.
The second rule is that the line of succession is eligible only to “heirs of the body”
of Sophia, Electress of Hanover.
While heir of the body sounds like a polite term for flatulence, and Electress of Hanover
sounds like a graphic novel about a lady who controls lightning, the real meanings are
much more boring—in order to be in line for the throne, you must be a descendant of
this lady, Sophia, who the Parliament chose because at the time she was the closest living
non-Catholic descendent of James VI.
But which descendants of Sophia actually get to be king or queen, and which just get to
be played by Helena Bonham Carter in a Netflix series?
Well, the succession structure laid out in the Act of Settlements is called primogeniture,
and it’s all about being the first-born, or the first-born of the first-born, and so
on.
To use a completely made-up example, pretend there was a queen name Elizabeth, and she
had a son who looked like a British Roger Stone, named Charles.
Charles would be first in line for the throne.
Elizabeth’s next child, Charles’ younger brother, Andrew, would be second in line.
But then if Charles has a son, William, he then becomes next in line after Charles, ahead
of his uncle, Andrew.
And then if Charles had another son, Harry, he becomes next in line behind William, also
ahead of Andrew.
Now, if William had a child, George, then that kid hops in line in front of Harry.
As would William’s other kids, Charlotte and Louis, who is two.
Ultimately, it’s a tough look for Harry, who both only managed to get the second-coolest
member of the Suits cast to marry him, and is considered less eligible to rule Britain
than a two-year-old.
And there’s one other important thing: under the Act of Settlement of 1701, succession
would use male-preference primogeniture.
That meant that first-born sons took precedent over daughters.
So if the king only had a daughter, she would be eligible for the throne, but if he then
had a son, that son would leapfrog his older sister in the line of succession.
But in 2011, scientists discovered that sexism was bad, and so the rule was finally changed,
when all 16 of the Commonwealth realms signed something called the Perth Agreement, which
made two key changes to the succession rules.
First, it ended the ban on spouses of Roman Catholics being in the line of succession—although
Roman Catholics themselves are still banned—and second, it switched from male-preference primogeniture
to what’s called absolute primogeniture, which basically just means that succession
is done just by firstborn, regardless of gender.
It was that long overdue rule change that prompted people to ask—what if we had done
this earlier?
The last time a firstborn daughter was passed over for the throne was in 1901, when Queen
Victoria died, and the crown went not to her firstborn child, Victoria II, but instead,
because of male-preference primogeniture, to Victoria II’s younger brother, Edward
VII, who would eventually pass it to his great-granddaughter, Queen Elizabeth II, the nonagenarian pastel-hat-wearing
crumpet-muncher we all know and love/don’t really care about.
Under the new rules, though, the crown would have gone to Victoria II, as she was Queen
Victoria’s firstborn child.
It would then have been passed to Victoria II’s firstborn Kaiser William II, then to
his firstborn, Crown Prince Frederick William, then his firstborn Prince William, then his
firstborn, Felicitas, then to her firstborn, Friederike Thyra Marion Wilhelmine Dorothea
Von Der Osten, a 61-year old homeopathic doctor in Germany.
And just think how different our lives would be if we had a different Queen of England!
I mean, we would have different… well, no nevermind… um, I mean, there would be lots
of changes in… um….
no, that would be the same, too.
Um… we would have gotten a 10th season of Suits?
Yep, let’s go with that…. the power of the monarchy truly is astounding.
You know what else is powerful?
Trivia shows.
Which is why you’ll be thrilled to hear that the third and final part of our new Nebula
original, “Sam from Wendover Presents: A Very Good Trivia Show, Presented by Sam from
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