The Sun, as ever, put it pithily: ‘Andrew’s Out of Line’, its front page says today. ‘Shamed Royal to be Axed from Royal Succession’. It is one of those facts of which nearly all of us were unaware until five minutes ago, that Andrew Windsor – can we drop the Mountbatten bit? – is in fact eighth in line to the throne, and until five minutes ago, none of us gave much thought to the matter because it was pretty well academic. That remains true, but I was brought up short to learn that ‘Andrew remains eighth in line to the throne behind the Prince of Wales and his three children and the Duke of Sussex and his two children’. Hold it right there. If by some tragic mishap, William and his children were to die, the country would be left with Prince Harry? And then his children by Meghan Markle? The more realistic possibility is that William himself might die before his children were of an age to succeed, in which case Britain would be in Regency territory. And who would be wholly thrilled by the prospect of Harry as Prince Regent? Perhaps his lovely wife might just about come to terms with the idea. If the succession is to be tinkered with, just make sure that Princess Anne (though not her children) is next in line until the next generation.
But the truth is that, barring the scenario envisaged in that immortal comedy, Kind Hearts and Coronets, Andrew is nowhere near becoming King. There was, of course, a time before the succession was legally amended to put women and men on the same basis, and before Charles married, when he was indeed a whisker away from being next in line to the throne. An unhappy accident on the polo field, and Andrew could have been the heir apparent. But that’s primogeniture for you; it’s a genetic lottery, ameliorated by training. And you can bet your hat that if Andrew had indeed been next in line, he wouldn’t have been allowed within a mile of Jeffrey Epstein. And perhaps he might have been encouraged to seek a wife more suitable than the incorrigible Sarah Ferguson.
Given that there is next to no realistic prospect of these alarming scenarios coming to pass, what, exactly is the point of removing Andrew by law from the succession? Layla Moran, the LibDem MP behind the move, has been terrifically exercised about the significance of the thing – which would only come to pass if Andrew were indeed found guilty of an offence, and we seem rather to have missed that technicality. He is still innocent in the eyes of the law; all this, then, is not just hyperbolic but premature. The move derives from the impulse that something must be done, and the more portentous-sounding the better. If Andrew can’t actually be put in the stocks, which seems to be what many people would like, then let’s see how he can be humiliated further. He’s had his titles removed – so the succession remains about all that can be taken from him, now that he’s lost his (horrid and vulgar) house.
Just as well then that parliament has nothing better to do with its time; that there aren’t bills out there that actually do need parliamentary time (I’m not thinking about the terrible assisted suicide bill). All that sound and fury; are there no better objects for them? Drafting and enacting legislation takes time, though the growing band of constitutional pundits would probably do rather well out of the whole thing. But right now, any stick is good enough to beat Andrew with.
There are other aspects of his treatment that should worry us. As Fraser Nelson, formerly of this parish, has pointed out in the Times, that spectacular police swoop at 8 a.m. on his birthday wasn’t actually necessary and may have been politically activated. A dawn raid is normally undertaken if there’s a danger that a suspect might be destroying evidence to do with a potential investigation, or, I suppose, about to do a flit. But there was not indication whatever that this was the case with Andrew. In any event, was it absolutely needful for the rozzers to turn up at 8 a.m. when he would have been in bed, possibly looking forward to his birthday cards (do you suppose his daughters managed that much?). Wouldn’t 10 a.m. have been preferable, unless the point was to look as tough and as showy as possible? Could he not have been examined under caution at home? Exhibitionist arrests of public figures don’t strike me as evidence of good policing.
Was it absolutely needful for the rozzers to turn up at 8 a.m.? Wouldn’t 10 a.m. have been preferable?
Indeed, there are pundits out there who want the King to go further and withdraw any financial support from his brother on the basis that this support may conceivably be derived from public money – except it doesn’t; it would be Charles’s own money just as his present home is Charles’s own property. And besides, even disgraced ex-princes need to live and the pundits don’t seem to have any very clear idea of how that might be managed without familial support.
To say all this is not to go into the camp of the fawning and deferential monarchists who can see nothing wrong with the institution, not even that it costs way more than its European counterparts. It is simply to say that Andrew should be treated as a human being, even in his disgrace. The revelations from the Epstein files have been repellent, but he’s still innocent until proven guilty. And even if he were to be found guilty in a court of law, that shouldn’t mean we expect his family to cut him loose, for there’s a difference between condoning a sin and supporting a sinner (the term, incidentally, has no legal connotations). Talking of sin, isn’t it time for the bevy of chaplains to the Royal Family to come into their own at this point? If pastoral support is still their thing, then there is one sinner in Windsor who seems to be in need of it. Over to you, Canon Dr Paul Rhys Williams, King’s Chaplain at Sandringham. Or, if Justin Welby, former Archbishop of Canterbury, has time on his hands, maybe he could drop by. He knew the Royals rather well, after all.
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