“RESTORATION PARLIAMENT” SET TO CONCLUDE NEXT WEEK

Bergen

On October 30, 2021, for the first time in many years, a Hanoverian monarch took his seat upon the throne at Huntington to inform the Peers of the Realm that he had summoned them to attend upon him for the purpose of lawmaking.

Amidst a dignified setting awash in ermine, heraldry, and crown jewels, King James I, donning the sash and star of the freshly-minted Royal Hanoverian Order, explained to the small assembly of princes, dukes, marquesses, and earls that they were in congress with him that day (and would remain so for weeks to come) to converse about the weighty matters of governing, particularly as concerned getting the Hanoverian state and community back up and running again.

And so they did. A lord chancellor, complete with black tricorn, presided over the grand assemblage from his woolsack, putting matter after matter to the question, as a chief whip did his best to corral the lords, reminding them to vote when it was time. It all went off without a hitch.

In all, four bills were proposed by His Majesty’s government…not an overwhelming number, to be sure, although this Parliament was never meant to be about quantity. It was a very limited run, focused on a few very basic and essential legislative points. The main objective, however, was to clear away the cobwebs and to get the machinery of Parliament moving once again after it had lain dormant for so long.

Like an old steam locomotive long stored-away in the engine house of some forgotten railway, the once mighty Hanoverian Parliament was fired-up, her gears and bolts oiled and greased, and out she came, chugging forth, her bell ringing and her whistle blowing, with all the pomp and pageantry she had once known. Off she headed down the line, with each bill like a depot at which she took water.

If the lord chancellor was at the throttle and the Government opposite shoveling in the coal, the king did not remain at the station after cutting the ribbon, but instead hopped aboard to enjoy the ride from the royal carriage. This was a rather different sort of Parliament, after all, which saw the monarch remaining upon his throne during the session rather than alighting it following the reading of the throne speech.

For his government, Hanover’s original king pitched one bill after another from the throne until the Crown’s objectives had all been met.  Although amendments were proposed and considered and debated and voted upon, thanks in large part to the conscientiousness of the duke of Marchmain, not one bill proposed by the government was opposed or rejected, and not one vote to the contrary recorded. The peers of the realm seemed united in their overarching objective of cooperating with the crown in its efforts to revive the Hanoverian experience in time to celebrate 20 years of Hanover come January.

Of the items of the legislative package put forward by the crown, first came the “Repeal Bill” which acknowledged that most of the Hanoverian legislative archives over the span of nineteen years had been lost, necessitating a bit of a magic wand to declare all prior acts of Parliament and orders in council null and void, creating a clean slate for the future.

The “Allegiance Bill” came next, defining by statute the various affirmations of allegiance to the crown to be taken by new Hanoverians, parliamentarians, privy counsellors, and ministers of the crown. The bill also described impediments to the valid taking of loyalty affirmations, stressing the idea that pledges of loyalty and allegiance are not to be treated as rote and empty promises and meaningless lip service, but are meant to be taken seriously, marking signal moments in a Hanoverian’s citizenship journey.

And what do we now do, as one united kingdom of Great Hanover, with old Hanover, proper, Argonne, and Inselwald? This was the main question answered by the “Principal Jurisdictions Bill” which decided that Hanover, Inselwald, and Argonne are to be treated, not as constituent kingdoms or principalities, but as two (not three) “legal, administrative, and cultural jurisdictions”. Hanover is the first of those jurisdictions, whereas “Inselwald and Argonne” becomes the second.

The duke of Marchmain took issue with the “lieutenancies” chapter of this bill, suggesting more continental alternatives to the proposed title “lord-lieutenant” to be borne by the sovereign’s representative in these jurisdictions. The crown wasn’t wild about the duke’s suggestions that the office be called “prefect” rather than “lord-lieutenant”, expressing the royal rationale for the crown’s preferred title from the throne, but assuring the duke that the crown would make no effort to block an amendment to go with an alternative. In the end, however, the amendment was not proposed and “lord-lieutenants” there shall be.

The ”Royalty, Sovereignty, and Inalienability Bill” took the prize for the title most likely to draw fire from Drew Lynch, and was something of a catch-all bill about royalty, sovereignty and…well…inalienability. The legislation statutorily erected the House of Hanover-Inselwald-Argonne (the old House of Marchmain) as the forever royal house of the Kingdom of Great Hanover to which all Hanoverian royalty, present and future, must and shall belong.

The bill also made it clear that the kingdom belongs to the king, no two ways about it, and that the two cannot be separated. The sovereign is the “personification of the state, the symbol of the unity of the realm, and the perpetual and indisputable possessor, ruler, and governor” of Great Hanover. The legislation went on from there to define a lot of rules about royalty, most notably that blue blood is restricted to actual, bona-fide Hanoverians who have signed on the dotted line, as it were. No royal titles for non-Hanoverian spouses and kids.

In addition to the four bills enacted, two resolutions were adopted, the first a Parliamentary stamp of approval on the “Jacobean Edict” of September 17, 2021, and the second, proposed by the foreign ministry, a resolution to invite the king of Scone to address Parliament next year.

King Erik, who has accepted the invitation, will become the first non-Hanoverian sovereign ever to address a sitting Hanoverian Parliament. The Glennish monarch is expected to grace Parliament with his words on 28 February, the eve of Sconnish Independence Day (March 1), which also happens, of course, to be Hanoverian independence day (although there is no such holiday on our calendar). March 1 is the date upon which the Glennish Kingdoms were dissolved, Hanover and Scone going their separate ways.

The ”Restoration Parliament” now complete, it has been scheduled for dissolution on 15 December. That will happen in the context of a royal assent ceremony by which the four bills passed will be named acts all at once by royal fiat, to be vocally expressed in Parliament by the marquess of Brandenhurst speaking on behalf of the lords commissioners appointed by the crown for the purpose of dissolving Parliament in the king’s name.  

With a solemn doff of the tricorn, this first Parliament of Great Hanover will dissolve into history, making way for a new Parliament to be convened sometime in January.

THE KINGDOM OF GREAT HANOVER  .  2021