by The Laird o’Thistle
June 18 2007
On a recent Sunday evening, we watched a DVD version of George Bernard Shaw’s The Millionairess, starring a significantly younger Maggie Smith in a rather bizarre and witty romp. It was quite fun. What we had failed to notice when we got the disc was that there was a special “bonus play” on it, Shaw’s 1929 play The Apple Cart. It was a true bonus!
I have to admit that I had not actually heard of The Apple Cart before stumbling into it. It was a strangely prescient little play about a future King of Britain (originally set circa 1969) having a bit of a showdown with his cabinet over one of the few surviving bits of the Royal Prerogative. In the play, King Magnus (portrayed in this 1975 BBC production by Nigel Davenport) matches wits with the leader of the Trades Unions, with a wily and affectedly long-suffering Prime Minister, and with the clever (or not) members of the cabinet… finally outwitting them all, of course. There’s also a lovely royal mistress named Orinthia (played by the young Helen Mirren), and a sensible Queen Jemima (portrayed by Prunella Scales). A bit of true comic relief comes along when the unctuous American ambassador shows up to announce that the U.S. is rescinding the Declaration of Independence and rejoining the British Empire. This particular production was a bit idiosyncratic in its use of very dated futuristic garb, a geodesic dome/garden pavilion, and all the ministers constantly flying about in helicopters.
The striking thing to me was that writing in 1929, Shaw anticipated a good deal of what rather came to pass just seven years later in the abortive reign of Edward VIII. There was a king in a constitutional showdown with the politicians. There was a royal mistress lobbying to become Queen. There was – readers who don’t want the plot spoiled may stop reading here! – a threat of abdication, and the prospect of a commoner ex-king on the loose and free to speak his political mind. Afterward, I found myself wondering if Edward VIII’s brief flirtation with the notion of a “King’s Party” in December 1936 was actually inspired by Shaw.
Even more amazing, though, is how the constitutional dance portrayed by G. B. Shaw echoed some the issues raised in recent reports about the concerns of Queen Elizabeth II over Tony Blair’s rather haphazard reforms over the last decade, and some of the anticipated issues that may be addressed by Gordon Brown when he enters his new digs at #10 Downing Street. In particular, Brown is said to be concerned over how the latent aspects of the Royal Prerogative have come to roost in the Prime Minister’s hands, rather than in the right of Parliament and the people of Britain. He’s rumored to be considering a bit of a constitutional demotion of the Queen, but one which would actually be more a case of placing checks and balances on the powers of the premiership. According to reports this last week, Sir Menzies Campbell of the Liberal Democrats seems ready to push Brown on this.
The constitutional problem being discussed at the present moment is almost exactly the issue that Shaw’s play addressed in 1929… a politicians’ attempt to accrue the powers of monarchy, the “rule of one,” into the hands of an ambitiously self-deprecating First Minister. In Shaw’s version, only a deft and clever royal hand achieves the ultimate checkmate. And in the play, everyone except the P.M., is vastly relieved by the outcome.
It amuses me a bit to see how often Gordon Brown is referred to as a dour, and rather “Presbyterian” Scot. If that is an accurate description it may bode well for the rumored plans for constitutional reforms. The traditional motto of Presbyterians in matters of governance is a biblical quote, often stretched some distance from its context, “Let all things be done decently and in order.” Perhaps the greatest unrecognized gift of the Scots Presbyterians and many of their English Puritan allies in the 16th & 17th centuries was the notion of limited “covenantal” constitutional monarchy that very much helped shape the concepts of the British Constitution as it evolved in the wake of the Glorious Revolution. The whole notion of carefully nuanced checks and balances in the structures of power owes much of its popular foundation to the commentary notes on the old Geneva Bible that was the common sectarian alternative to the Authorized Version in the era of the Stuarts. John Locke is said to have been raised in a household that used the Geneva Bible, imbibing some of his foundational notions from the notes. Fundamental to the whole covenantal – constitutional concept is an innate distrust of allowing any person to have too much power coupled with too little accountability. In that sense, Gordon Brown’s concern about the Royal Prerogative is inherently Presbyterian. Maybe it is bred into his genes.
I think it fair to say that the Blair era has been some of an Apple Cart period in Britain. And neither the country nor the Crown can ever backtrack in many of the areas of change. That said, the advent of Mr. Brown will probably see a return to a more traditional style of Prime Minister. How that plays out into relations between Buckingham Palace and Downing Street remains to be seen, but it probably will at least signal a less personality-centered and presidential form of leadership than that seen during the Blair era. It is even rumored that Mr. Brown will actually enjoy the P.M.’s annual weekend at Balmoral with the royals.
Meanwhile, one of the still-tottering baskets in the constitutional applecart remains Scotland, with the Scottish National Party now enjoying a tenuous hold on the Scottish Parliament. Thankfully, from my perspective, Mr. Salmond has at least followed the venerable British political tradition of skeptic-turned-monarchist now that he’s in the forefront at Holyrood. And if it ever does come down to full independence, Prince Charles has spent enough time at Birkhall of late to more than meet any residency requirements! ‘Tis a bit cheery, though, that the 300th anniversary of the Treaty of Union has been marked by the SNP’s success. The best of Scottish cheekiness.
Yours Aye,
– Ken Cuthbertson