This video was made possible by CuriosityStream. Get the CuriosityStream/Nebula bundle deal,
currently for the crazy sale price of under $1 a month, at CuriosityStream.com/HAI. 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 Wendover,” was released yesterday. At the enormous risk of accidentally sounding
sincere, we put a medium amount of effort into it, we think it’s a lot of fun, and
we really hope you’ll check it out. And once you’re done, you should also check
out CuriosityStream’s thousands of top-quality documentaries and non-fiction TV shows, like
the fantastic History of Home, narrated by Ron Swanson himself, Nick Offerman. So, make sure to head over to CuriosityStream.com/HAI
and get the bundle deal for the frankly crazy sale price of less than $1 a month, and then,
go and watch my damn trivia show.
