The nobility

Rank misconceptions

Michael Stourton

It seems quite understandable that in the 1920s Dorothy Sayers could perceive that the doings, and still more the misdoings, of titled folk enthralled. She had only to read the newspapers to obtain the right mixture of romance and scandal. Lord Peter Wimsey, a product of the gossip columns, was an immediate success.

It seems less understandable in this egalitarian year of grace 1975 that the editorial director of Burke's Peerage could be in a position towrite to the Times, as he did indeed do quite recently, asserting that the sale prospects of Burke's Peerage, Baronetage and Knightage (available at £38) have never been better, and that this fairly reflects the tremendous upsurge of interest in family and social history.

The interest displayed not long ago in the death and funeral of Bernard, sixteenth Duke of Norfolk, eclipsed, temporarily and rather mercifully, the headlines that are normally concerned with economics and politics. The media took the opportunity of perpetuating at least one of the well-established legends about the British aristocracy. In many a commentary it was asserted as a point of special interest that the Dukes of Norfolk had always been unwavering adherents to the Catholic faith. In fact, as was frequently stated by Bernard Duke of Norfolk himself, his grandfather, the fourteenth Duke, was converted to the Roman religion through the influence of the great liberal Catholic thinker Montalembert. Small, wonder, though, that these popular misconceptions thrive: in his authoritative work, The Anatomy of Britain Today, Anthony Sampson

wrote, referring to Catholic families, "Some of them, such as the Duke of Norfolk, have remained Catholic ever since the Reformation, under considerable persecution ..."

Unlike its more effete continental counterpart, the nobility of Britain, still in reasonably good shape, has preferred to remain vigorous through new creations and frequent infusions of proletarian, Jewish and foreign blood; with consequent advantage to its genes, brains and pocket.

For popular consumption, however, presentation by the media is different. Catching on to public thirst for the antique, they create the image of a feudal aristocracy encrusted with the tradition of centuries, and so different, therefore, from those unfortunate Americans whose social lions can only be judged by the size of their newly acquired bank balances.

The romantic names that sound to have been handed down from the Conqueror to the Concorde are not, apparently, all that they appear to be. Name-switching has been almost as popular as name-dropping. Sometimes there were tenuous connections through the female line with the titles of family names taken; sometimes not. Usually, it is not even necessary to read between the lineages; the facts are plainly declared. (Though, since fewer wear haloes than wear coronets, it must be realistic to make delicate allowance, in the margin, say, for the odd slip that must have falsified the pedigree here and there. The upper classes used to have an awful lot of spare time.

Over half the hereditary peerages now

existing were created after 1900. A considerable block came into being in the preceding 100 years. Of today's total of well over 1,000 hereditary peerages only four have descended in the male line, in a single family therefore, from before the Wars of the Roses (1460-1471) to the present day: the earldom of Shrewsbury (1442), the baronies of Abergavenny (1295), Stourton (1448) and Stanley (1456). It is true of course that there are not a few other peerages of early date — including the barony of de Ros (1264), oldest of all, and Mowbray (1283), premier barony of England — but these descend in the female line and have therefore been tossed around like second-hand clothing from family to family over the centuries.

With strict regard for rank and precedence, let us start with the ducal coronet, so charmingly embellished with strawberry leaves.

Only Norfolk and Somerset have claims to real antiquity, dating from 1483 and 1547, respectively. Even then Norfolk was a second creation. After these two there is no surviving dukedom earlier than the seventeenth century.

Take Northumberland of Alnwick Castle, that ducal family whose illustrious warrior name, Percy, adorns our literature and history from earliest times. Rather a let-down, therefore, to read that in 1750 the family of Smithson changed their name to Percy, and as recently as 1766 were created Dukes of Northumberland.

One could perhaps be forgiven for thinking that the Churchill family, headed by the present Duke of Marlborough, with their famous scions Lord Randolph and Sir Winston, were all in direct descent from John Churchill, the celebrated general, created Duke of Marlborough. How wrong one would be. The Churchills became extinct in 1733 on the death of the last surviving daughter of John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. The name of the present family was Spencer until 1817 when it was changed to Churchill, or Spencer-Churchill.

There should not be much doubt about Warwick, an earldom that rings with early history and which was made famous by Shakespeare. Alas, no. The present peerage is a third creation, and came into being as late as 1759, 140 years after the death of William Shakespeare. Adopting ancient title names that had become extinct and changing family names was becoming fashionable in the eighteenth century.

Now Leicester: that's another name from the history books. There was Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester; intimate of Queen Elizabeth I. But here we are on safer ground. We can easily avoid the trap of confusing this creation of the Dudley family with that much later creation of the eighteenth century when Thomas Coke of Norfolk, also well known to us from the history books for his agrarian improvements, was raised to the peerage as Earl of Leicester.

In Norfolk there still lives the Coke family, Earls of Leicester. But read the book. That second creation of the earldom of Leicester became extinct in 1759 as did the Cokes. The family of the present Earl of Leicester, yet another creation, dating from 1837, were called Roberts until the same year when the name was changed to Coke.

Perhaps the politicians have got it right for once. If they create any more hereditary titles they'll only be adding to the confusion and, no doubt, to that rather worrying sum of £38. Mr Wilson will know the remedy for cases of acute knight-starvation among worthy backbenchers, but he might otherwise stick to life peerages and letters after names. They're so much simpler.