A Royal Obsession

by Mary Ducharme  (December 2021)

In 1946, when he was fifteen, Arnold McNaughton pulled a red-covered book at random from the school’s library shelf. It happened to be about Queen Victoria. What leaped to his attention was that in 1901 when the Queen died, she had forty grandchildren and thirty-seven great-grandchildren. This was the moment, Arnold explained later “that my interest in royal genealogy was fired.” Delving into encyclopedias and to local public libraries, he began a disappointing quest for information.

Travelling overseas to research was out of the question, but it occurred to him that the best sources were the European royals themselves. Over time he wrote hundreds of letters to the royal houses, and to his surprise, letters of response overflowed, Christmas cards poured in. The royal families were delighted to receive news and gossip about royal relatives with whom they had lost contact. They were also filling in their own ancestral lines.

However, the painstaking labour was refused by publishers because it was thought the lineage of Queen Victoria would have limited public interest. He privately described royal genealogy as an “insane hobby.”

Lord Earl Mountbatten, uncle to Prince Phillip, profoundly influenced Arnold. Mountbatten was warm-hearted and generous in his private life, controversial in his military roles, including as governor during the separation of India and Pakistan. Arnold met him in person twice, but came to regard him as a cherished friend and mentor. Through Mountbatten, many doors opened.

Never married, and chronically short of funds, Arnold gained employment with Avon Products of Canada in Montreal, with a salary of $5,000 a year. He operated a small offset printing press which duplicated office forms. After business hours and long into the night he laboured on producing genealogical charts of European royalty.

In 1961, he read an article claiming that Charles, Prince of Wales, was descended 17 ways from King George I. To his amazement, all the European royals could claim to be descendants. After two decades of effort unimaginable to the most dedicated historians, he collected over 7000 photographs of these descendants. and his quest transformed into a 1,508-page genealogical reference book published by Garstone Press: The Book of Kings. It is “a document unique in the world of historical research.” This comment in Chatelaine by writer Barbara Croft was an opinion held by many genealogists worldwide. Publication was timed to coincide with the wedding of Princess Anne, and the three-volume set was resoundingly praised.

Respect for Arnold spread among the royal houses, the press, television producers, and organizations requesting him as a speaker. Arnold McNaughton of Hemmingford, Quebec was a celebrity. Those who knew him described Arnold as courteous, charming, self-effacing. He was invited to attend the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953. He was invited to have a private audience with Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip when they were visiting Toronto in 1977. He personally met many of the royals he wrote about. But his closest bond remained with Lord Earl Mountbatten.

Those who knew Arnold, also knew a darker side which remains inexplicable. He had a compulsion to slash tires, first bicycles when he was a student, and later car tires. There was a newspaper account of his arrest but the authorities did not name him, a protectiveness still in evidence in the community now. No one knows the troubles of mind he suffered, but his outstanding legacy goes beyond to accomplishments that cannot be denied.

In August of 1979 Lord Mountbatten was violently assassinated while he was on his yacht lobster fishing in Mullaghmore Harbour in Sligo, Ireland. The IRA claimed responsibility for the bomb that killed three and injured several other family members. His state funeral was attended by kings, admirals, and generals from around the world. For Arnold, Mountbatten’s death created a profound gap that could never be filled; his grief was unremitting. There were also imminent legal consequences for Arnold’s vandalism that he could not face. On October 14, 1979, he parked his car near the foot of the Mercier Bridge connecting Montreal to the borough of LaSalle where he lived. Tragically, his body was that day found in the dark waters of the St. Lawrence.