Secrets of the Royal babies
At birth, Royal babies are the only ones in the whole wide world who don’t know they’re Royal. But for how long? Does the lavish silk lining of the crib (buttercup yellow with lace trimmings for Prince Charles), or the famous Honiton lace christening robe (commissioned by Queen Victoria in 1840 and only recently replaced by a replica after 167 years of use) offer any clue to their rather diff erent destiny?
Princess Diana was the first Royal to show herself during pregnancy. Previous Royal ladies were confined in the old-fashioned way. There are no photographs of the Queen ‘showing’. Rather as fans of The Archers send letters of condolence, flowers and even food parcels to fictional characters in need of their attention, so the concealed Royal mother-to-be would be inundated with uncalledfor gifts from members of the public. One-and-a-half tons of nappies were sent by the American people, when the first pregnancy of the Queen, then Princess Elizabeth, was announced in 1948.
Prince Charles’s was the last Royal birth to be marked on a grand scale. The fountains in Trafalgar Square were turned blue and a crowd of 3,000 gathered outside Buckingham Palace, where the birth took place on 14 November 1948. Loyal addresses were given in the House of Commons, one of them by Sir Winston Churchill no less.
The Duke of Edinburgh was playing squash while his wife endured a difficult labour in the Buhl Room. By the standards of husbands of the day, this wasn’t bad. He came dashing round with flowers and champagne the minute the baby was safely delivered.
The Duke and Duchess of York with Elizabeth, 1926
The Princess breast-fed the infant and seems generally to have had a robust attitude to childbearing and rearing. ‘It’s what we’re made for,’ she is supposed to have said concerning a woman’s role in the whole procedure. She also claimed that the best outfit for playing with your baby is… nothing at all. On the other hand, visitors to the newborn Princess Anne were required to wear cotton face-masks, according to the Daily Mail of the time.
When the Queen was expecting Prince Andrew in 1960, she declared that the family name would be changed to Mountbatten- Windsor. This was a bold move, since all governments during her reign had refused to allow Prince Philip’s surname any kind of look-in. Some quipped that she was not only pregnant but regnant – or more regnant because pregnant.
Previously, governments had had even more intimate involvement. The practice of the Home Secretary being present at a Royal accouchement to ensure that a substitute was not smuggled in was only dropped in 1948 with the arrival of Prince Charles.
In August 1930, the Duchess of York, later the Queen Mother, prepared to introduce Princess Margaret to the world at Glamis, her family home. The Home Secretary and the Ceremonial Secretary of the Home Office, staying nearby as guests of the formidable Lady Mabell Airlie, lady-in-waiting to Queen Mary, were getting more and more overwrought as the princess failed to appear.
The Ceremonial Secretary, whom Lady Airlie thought had spent too much time in China, was a conspiracy-theory maniac, convinced that history was about to be repeated, and that an impostor baby would be smuggled in in a warming pan, as had supposedly happened 240 years before when Mary of Modena gave birth to James II’s son. It was therefore vital that they did not miss the birth. But the Home Secretary was rather enjoying driving about with Lady Airlie visiting grand houses. There were awful tussles between the two Secretaries.
In the end, procedures were correctly carried out, but rumours nevertheless arose that Princess Margaret Rose was deaf and dumb. Similar tales abounded after the birth of Charles, provoked by the absence of photographs of the infants in the newspapers.
A Royal child must be registered at birth like any other. The Duke of York, later George VI, father of Princess Margaret, found that the next slot in the register of births at Glamis post office was number 13. He didn’t care for it. Fortunately, the mother of the other new baby in the village, although not keen on 13, was willing to make the sacrifice on the grounds that ‘the Duchess is a charming person’.
It’s curious that the Duke’s father-in-law, Lord Strathmore, also had a registry crisis, failing to record the Queen Mother’s arrival for six weeks and then putting the place of birth as London, when everybody thought it was Hertfordshire.
Prior to registration, the parents must have made up their minds as to names, always a sticky subject, but worse if you’re Royal. Royal babies must have at least four, and there’s not always free choice: in 1930, the King and Queen insisted on Margaret for the Duke and Duchess of York’s new baby – even though the parents wanted Ann.
So, after the formidable early achievements of getting born and acquiring names, the Royal baby must be lavished with gifts. Queen Mary venerated baby Charles with ‘a silver cup and cover, which George III had given to a godson in 1780 – so I gave a present from my greatgrandfather, to my great-grandson 176 years later.’ This should give you an idea if you’re thinking of popping something into the post for the new Cambridge baby.
Queen Mary then pored over pictures of Prince Albert, finding resemblance, of course, with her new great-grandson. The new HRH’s family might see traces, in the child’s features, of the Queen Mother, or, perhaps, Edith Goldsmith, a Middleton ancestress, fond of Woodbines. She worked on the production line in a mincemeat factory and was inclined to throw her shoes about when cross.
Princess Diana was the first Royal to show herself during pregnancy. Previous Royal ladies were confined in the old-fashioned way. There are no photographs of the Queen ‘showing’. Rather as fans of The Archers send letters of condolence, flowers and even food parcels to fictional characters in need of their attention, so the concealed Royal mother-to-be would be inundated with uncalledfor gifts from members of the public. One-and-a-half tons of nappies were sent by the American people, when the first pregnancy of the Queen, then Princess Elizabeth, was announced in 1948.
Prince Charles’s was the last Royal birth to be marked on a grand scale. The fountains in Trafalgar Square were turned blue and a crowd of 3,000 gathered outside Buckingham Palace, where the birth took place on 14 November 1948. Loyal addresses were given in the House of Commons, one of them by Sir Winston Churchill no less.
The Duke of Edinburgh was playing squash while his wife endured a difficult labour in the Buhl Room. By the standards of husbands of the day, this wasn’t bad. He came dashing round with flowers and champagne the minute the baby was safely delivered.
The Duke and Duchess of York with Elizabeth, 1926The Princess breast-fed the infant and seems generally to have had a robust attitude to childbearing and rearing. ‘It’s what we’re made for,’ she is supposed to have said concerning a woman’s role in the whole procedure. She also claimed that the best outfit for playing with your baby is… nothing at all. On the other hand, visitors to the newborn Princess Anne were required to wear cotton face-masks, according to the Daily Mail of the time.
When the Queen was expecting Prince Andrew in 1960, she declared that the family name would be changed to Mountbatten- Windsor. This was a bold move, since all governments during her reign had refused to allow Prince Philip’s surname any kind of look-in. Some quipped that she was not only pregnant but regnant – or more regnant because pregnant.
Previously, governments had had even more intimate involvement. The practice of the Home Secretary being present at a Royal accouchement to ensure that a substitute was not smuggled in was only dropped in 1948 with the arrival of Prince Charles.
In August 1930, the Duchess of York, later the Queen Mother, prepared to introduce Princess Margaret to the world at Glamis, her family home. The Home Secretary and the Ceremonial Secretary of the Home Office, staying nearby as guests of the formidable Lady Mabell Airlie, lady-in-waiting to Queen Mary, were getting more and more overwrought as the princess failed to appear.
The Ceremonial Secretary, whom Lady Airlie thought had spent too much time in China, was a conspiracy-theory maniac, convinced that history was about to be repeated, and that an impostor baby would be smuggled in in a warming pan, as had supposedly happened 240 years before when Mary of Modena gave birth to James II’s son. It was therefore vital that they did not miss the birth. But the Home Secretary was rather enjoying driving about with Lady Airlie visiting grand houses. There were awful tussles between the two Secretaries.
In the end, procedures were correctly carried out, but rumours nevertheless arose that Princess Margaret Rose was deaf and dumb. Similar tales abounded after the birth of Charles, provoked by the absence of photographs of the infants in the newspapers.
A Royal child must be registered at birth like any other. The Duke of York, later George VI, father of Princess Margaret, found that the next slot in the register of births at Glamis post office was number 13. He didn’t care for it. Fortunately, the mother of the other new baby in the village, although not keen on 13, was willing to make the sacrifice on the grounds that ‘the Duchess is a charming person’.
It’s curious that the Duke’s father-in-law, Lord Strathmore, also had a registry crisis, failing to record the Queen Mother’s arrival for six weeks and then putting the place of birth as London, when everybody thought it was Hertfordshire.
Prior to registration, the parents must have made up their minds as to names, always a sticky subject, but worse if you’re Royal. Royal babies must have at least four, and there’s not always free choice: in 1930, the King and Queen insisted on Margaret for the Duke and Duchess of York’s new baby – even though the parents wanted Ann.
So, after the formidable early achievements of getting born and acquiring names, the Royal baby must be lavished with gifts. Queen Mary venerated baby Charles with ‘a silver cup and cover, which George III had given to a godson in 1780 – so I gave a present from my greatgrandfather, to my great-grandson 176 years later.’ This should give you an idea if you’re thinking of popping something into the post for the new Cambridge baby.
Queen Mary then pored over pictures of Prince Albert, finding resemblance, of course, with her new great-grandson. The new HRH’s family might see traces, in the child’s features, of the Queen Mother, or, perhaps, Edith Goldsmith, a Middleton ancestress, fond of Woodbines. She worked on the production line in a mincemeat factory and was inclined to throw her shoes about when cross.