Crown Imperial: An Alt British Monarchy

GV: Part Four, Chapter Nine: Kings and Successions
King George V

Part Four, Chapter Nine: Kings and Successions

The Charlottenlund Palace stands some six miles north of central Copenhagen, a modest mansion built in a neo-classical style with gleaming white walls and gold cornices, neatly set within thirty-five acres of parkland that turns over at the edges to a beach on the fringes of the Nivå Bugt. The Charlottenlund of today is, of course, a relatively modern creation and stands as a stark contrast to the house which occupied the site in 1845 at the time of King George V’s visit on his return journey to England from Russia. Charlottenlund began life as a deer park, ceded to a favourite courtier of King Frederick III of Denmark in the late 17th century. Later taken back by Frederick as a home for his illegitimate son, Ulrik Gyldenløve, the estate was renamed Gyldenlund until the King once again took it back for his own personal use as a summer retreat. In 1730, the future King Christian VI gave Gyldenlund to his sister Princess Charlotte Amalie. She tore down the buildings in the park and, using materials from Copenhagen Castle, which was under demolition at the time, commissioned a new Baroque palace named Charlottenlund, thus giving the residence (and the park) the name it enjoys to this day. Charlotte Amalie never married and so her much loved palace stood vacant for many years until finally, in the middle of the 19th century, it became the preferred residence of Princess Louise Charlotte of Denmark, the daughter of Frederick, Hereditary Prince of Denmark, who died in 1805. Hereditary Prince Frederick had served as Regent of Denmark for his 16-year-old half-nephew (also named Frederick) who was installed as King in a coup in 1784. With his death in 1839, Frederick VI was succeeded by his half-first cousin King Christian VIII – Princess Louise Charlotte’s brother. It was Christian VIII who installed his sister at the Charlottenlund but this was no mere fraternal gesture. It spoke directly to his hopes for the future of the Danish monarchy.

640px-Charlottenlund_Slot.JPG

Charlottenlund today.

Christian VIII married Charlotte Frederica of Mecklenburg-Schwerin in 1806 at Ludwigslust and the couple had two son. The eldest, Christian, tragically died at birth but the youngest, Frederick, survived and became his father’s heir when Christian VIII became King of Denmark in 1839. Christian’s marriage to Charlotte Frederica was a deeply unhappy one and lasted just four years. She was capricious and prone to bouts of temper whilst he was far more interested in academic pursuits both literary and scientific to indulge her frequent mood swings. This coldness led Charlotte Frederica to take a lover, the Swiss composer Edouard du Puy, and so finally Christian had grounds to divorce his wife on the grounds of her adultery in 1810. This was somewhat hypocritical on Christian's part as he was no stranger to infidelity himself (he died having produced ten illegitimate children), but nonetheless Charlotte Frederica was exiled to Horsens and never saw her son again. Meanwhile, Christian was sent off to Norway as Governor-general to promote loyalty to the House of Oldenburg among the populace there. So successful was he that in 1814, he was elected Regent and then King which resulted in a brief conflict with Sweden. Christian abdicated, left Norway and returned to Denmark awaiting his succession there instead. By this time, he had been introduced to Caroline Amalie of Augustenburg, fell in love with her and immediately upon his return to Copenhagen, Christian proposed marriage. They were wed in 1815 but the union produced no further heirs. This would not have been problematic were it not for the fact that as he grew older, Christian’s son Frederick (by his first marriage) seemed very unlikely to secure the Danish succession directly.

Frederick married his second cousin Princess Vilhelmine Marie of Denmark in 1828 but by 1834, the childless union was over and they were divorced in 1837. In 1841, he married Duchess Caroline of Mecklenburg-Strelitz – the sister of King George V’s first wife, Queen Louise of the United Kingdom. Yet that marriage too ended in acrimony. By 1844, Caroline had returned home and Frederick pursued relationships with Else Maria Guldborg Pedersen, and publisher and newspaper owner Carl Berling. All this served to remind Christian VIII that his son would be unlikely to leave a legitimate male heir. All eyes therefore turned to Christian’s youngest brother, Ferdinand. Born in 1792, he married his first cousin Princess Caroline (the daughter of King Frederick VI) in 1829. Though salic law prevented Caroline from becoming Queen regnant of Denmark, she might yet become Queen consort of Denmark if Ferdinand succeeded the childless Frederick VII. Upon Christian VIII’s death therefore, Ferdinand stood to become Hereditary Prince of Denmark. Yet his marriage too remained childless. Unlike his brother and his nephew, Ferdinand had no intention of divorcing his wife and taking another, thus Christian VIII had to resign himself to the fact that one day, there may be a serious succession crisis in Denmark. In the usual way of things, this would have been an inconvenience as one dynasty handed the reigns to another. But the death of Frederick VI in 1839 brought to the fore a crucial debate that threatened to result in an all-out war – the Schleswig-Holstein Question. The Schleswig-Holstein question was a pivotal moment in 19th century Danish history, but the ramifications of the debate stretched well beyond Denmark’s borders. So complicated was the situation in the duchies that Lord Palmerston once remarked in his retirement; “There are only three people in the world who ever understood the Schleswig-Holstein question. One was a professor, and he’s gone mad. One was a Bishop, and he’s dead. The third was myself…and I’ve forgotten all about it”. [1]

Entire volumes have been devoted to the complexities of the Schleswig-Holstein question and so for our purposes, we will begin with the situation as it was in 1845. Schleswig and Holstein were ruled separately from the Danish Kingdom but the Napoleonic Wars had given rise to German nationalists in the twin duchies which saw a growing demand for incorporation into Prussia. The nationalists in Schleswig opposed further integration with Denmark, yet those loyal to the Danish Crown in Schleswig (and there were many) could not accept Prussian control over their Duchy. In Holstein, the German majority saw Schleswig as their twin which could not be separated, and which could only follow Holstein when it became a German province (as they argued it must). In the middle were the Eider-Danes who straddled both camps. They wanted Schleswig to be Danish but they insisted that the Eider River be used as a border which would see Schleswig incorporated entirely into Denmark and Holstein left to fend for itself as a new acquisition of Prussia, thereby removing German nationalism from Schleswig as those who wished to live under Prussian rule could simply relocate to the other side of the Eider. Christian VIII was reluctant to take a firm stance on the twin duchies until the mid 1840s when he finally indicated that he supported the idea of Schleswig being brought into Danish territory proper. For his son and heir however, there was no such prevarication. The more liberal Frederick fully intended to promulgate a new constitution upon his accession which would bring Schleswig into the Kingdom of Denmark proper.

The problem was that if Prince Ferdinand succeeded King Frederick VII in the fullness of time, and died childless, Denmark’s claim on Holstein would be severely weakened. Schleswig followed Danish succession laws which would allow male heirs to inherit through a female line but Holstein followed German succession laws which did not. Thus, when the childless King Ferdinand died, he would have different heirs in Denmark and in Holstein. With the male line extinct in Denmark, the Danish crown would pass to Princess Louise Charlotte as Queen regnant. But in the Duchy of Holstein, the leading contender to inherit in such a situation was Duke Christian August II of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Augustenburg who took advantage of the succession issues in Denmark to promote their claim to Holstein. Both Christian August and his brother Frederick accepted that they could not succeed in Denmark and that Louise Charlotte would be Queen Regnant if she survived her brother Ferdinand. But they could not accept that Schleswig would be separated from Holstein for they wished to see the twin duchies united within the German Confederation. Louise Charlotte opposed this, taking her brother’s position on the matter. As a result, Christian VIII began to favour Louise Charlotte’s line as that which would eventually rule Denmark. Thus, although she had married Prince William of Hesse-Kassel (King George V’s maternal uncle) in 1810, Louise Charlotte’s life was not to be made in Rumpenheim but rather, in Copenhagen. [2]

Throughout the early 1840s, William and Louise Charlotte were keenly involved with Danish affairs of state and became leading figures in Danish high society. They were well liked and popular (though William was far more conservative than most) and accepted that their focus must be on the future of the Danish monarchy rather than their castle on the Main. As a result, they transformed the Charlottenlund into a place where the Danish nobility could gather freely in a relaxed atmosphere which subtly strengthened Louise Charlotte’s claims to the Danish throne in the far-off future. This is not to say that they abandoned Rumpenheim entirely and as we have seen, gatherings of the Hesse-Kassel clan were regular features in their calendar there. But they also enjoyed hosting their extended relations in Denmark, particularly because the Charlottenlund was so much more comfortable than the cramped conditions at Schloss Rumpenheim. 1845 gave King George V the opportunity to visit Denmark for the first time as his Uncle William invited him to Charlottenlund. The Hesse-Kassels decided to make something of a family reunion of the occasion and thus the guests also included William’s daughters Louise (married to Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg) and Auguste (married to King George’s first cousin, the Earl of Armagh). Also present was Princess Marie Louise (Louise and Auguste’s elder sister) with her husband Prince Frederick of Anhalt-Dessau, he being the paternal uncle of Queen Agnes. Princess Louise Charlotte therefore invited the Duke and Duchess of Anhalt-Dessau along too, knowing that Queen Agnes had not had a chance for a reunion with her parents since her marriage, but she also extended an invitation to the Tsarevich and Tsarevna of Russia, well aware that King George V had little opportunity to spend time with his sister who was also of course, Prince William’s niece. [3]

As it turned out, the Tsarevna’s presence rescued what might have been a very tense situation. Upon leaving Russia aboard the Sovereign, George V was in high dudgeon. The entire purpose of his state visit to Russia had been to reach a new agreement with Tsar Nicholas concerning the situation in Afghanistan (and in the Dardanelles), yet the Tsar had consistently refused to meet with George V to discuss this – neither did he allow his ministers to open talks with the British delegation from the Foreign Office. Though George welcomed the chance to visit his sister, he was frustrated that his well-researched and well-planned approach to talks had been wasted and that once again his chance to play the diplomat had been denied him. The discovery that Queen Agnes was pregnant did much to lighten George’s mood but he was still somewhat irritated when their final day in St Petersburg dawned and nothing in the way of foreign policy had been achieved. Yet the Tsarevna put a positive spin on things. She reminded George that though his visit had not been the diplomatic success he wished it to be, they could now enjoy time together away from the stuffy formality of the Russian court in Denmark before another prolonged parting – and besides, his priority must be the comfort and safety of his wife and unborn child on their travels home. Whilst this reassured and cheered the King before his arrival in Denmark, it did little to raise the spirits of Lord Morpeth who faced returning home to tell the Cabinet that the Russian State Visit had been a tragic waste of time and resources.

Word had been sent ahead to Prince William from the Sovereign that the King and Queen wanted no formality when they arrived in Denmark – no doubt because they had suffered quite enough of the stifling court etiquette in St Petersburg. In the usual way of things, such a visit would have begun with a formal entrance to Copenhagen with a presentation of an honour guard and a formal audience with King Christian VIII. To avoid causing offence to King Christian, the King’s compliments were sent ahead of him and the Danish monarch sent a reply with an invitation to an “informal” luncheon on the last day of George and Agnes’ stay in Denmark which was readily accepted and served to honour the dignities of both parties without any cause for further fuss. But when it came to the Tsarevich, no such relaxation of protocol could be considered. Sasha and Lottie were to sail into Copenhagen and immediately process to Amalienborg to meet with the King where the Tsarevich was to reaffirm, on behalf of the Tsar, Russia’s position on the Schleswig-Holstein question. Namely that a German power should never have control over the harbour at Kiel or control the entrance to the Baltic. Orders were to be exchanged, credentials presented and a formal luncheon offered with all the usual laborious niceties observed. Any deviation in this might well cause offence to the Tsar who expected his son and heir to be accorded the same respect Nicholas himself might expect, Sasha being his representative in a foreign Kingdom. [4]

But though George V saw his visit to Denmark as a private, informal holiday, he could not simply ignore his royal duties and as there was some delay in disembarking the Sovereign, Lord Morpeth took the opportunity to discuss the proposal he had put forward in Russia concerning William Mansfield’s future as an emissary to Peshawar. Morpeth was aware that the King’s mood was slightly precarious, and he had to be delicate in the way he presented his idea to His Majesty. But in this, Morpeth proved his ability to handle fragile tempers well. He profusely commiserated with George V and told him that, in his view, the biggest disappointment to come from the Russian State Visit was the fact that the King had not been able to employ his diplomatic skills. This was exactly the sort of commentary George V liked, though he never sought idle flattery, and so it was the King himself who asked the most obvious question, “What next?”. Lord Morpeth jumped on this without hesitation and carefully explained his idea that the only alternative now was to secure some kind of new agreement exploiting the factions in the Afghan court which would rebalance the relationship between Britain and Russia in the Great Game. The King nodded as Morpeth explained the situation, though he was not entirely convinced.

“I dislike the notion of a son being used against his father”, he said, “And this proposal of yours sounds as if it carries with it a very high element of risk. What should happen if King Mohammed reacts violently? He should have every cause to retaliate for our interference in his domestic affairs and if he does, would the Tsar not support him in that?”

“The Tsar does not seek a war on this matter”, Morpeth reassured the King, “Toppling a few Sultans in the Afghan hills is one thing, but the Tsar cannot risk conflict among the Great Powers. That shall tame his response if King Mohammed were to retaliate against us. That said Your Majesty, it does mean that we require someone of integrity to handle this, someone who can undertake these talks with the Barakzais without suggesting by his presence alone that anything out of the ordinary is afoot”.

“Who do you suggest?”, the King asked, lighting a cigarette, “Shelburne, I suppose?”

“No Sir, not Shelburne”, Morpeth smiled, “I should like to ask Your Majesty to consider releasing Mansfield from your service for a time”

“Willo?!”, George laughed, “What makes you think of him?”

“He is most capable Sir”, Morpeth explained, “He proved himself of great use to our delegation in St Petersburg, he has a military background that would suggest to the outside observer that he is simply transferring to an Indian regiment at a time of heightened tension with the Sikhs rather than going to Peshawar on any kind of diplomatic business. And yet we know that he will report honestly, with sincerity, and that he has no political agenda of his own. It is an ideal fit”

“But would he do it?”, George asked curiously, “I’ve seen no indication from him that he has any interest in a foreign posting, or that he wishes to leave court”

“He is a loyal servant of the Crown, Your Majesty”, Morpeth said soberly, “I am certain he would welcome any opportunity to serve…”

George thought for a moment or two. Then he checked his pocket watch.

“Oh really, this delay is too bad, Uncle William will be waiting, I can’t abide this shilly shallying about”, he moaned, “I shall speak to Willo, I’ll try to persuade him to take the job on if you really believe he’s the right man, now for heaven’s sake Morpeth, go up and see why we haven’t disembarked yet, would you?”

Upon their arrival at the Charlottenlund, the King and Queen were welcomed by Prince William who was thrilled to see them in Denmark. They had been given a suite of rooms at the rear of the palace with views of the gardens and though the Hesse-Kassels did not live extravagantly, Danish servants were provided so that the large retinue which had followed George and Agnes to St Petersburg could be dispersed somewhat, leaving only the Duchess of Grafton and the Arbuthnots in the Queen’s service and Charlie Phipps, William Mansfield and Lord Beauclerk in the King’s. Everybody else who had accompanied the Royal party to Russia were allowed a brief period of respite in Copenhagen and were accommodated at the appropriately named Hotel d’Angleterre at George V’s expense. But though the King and Queen were attended to by servants and though dinners were formal requiring uniforms, medals, gowns and tiaras, the general atmosphere at the Charlottenlund was that of a rather raucous house party which gave rise to mischief and pranks that greatly amused the guests. On this particular occasion, George V and Prince Christian teamed together to stage a bizarre game in the palace ballroom whereby players had to tuck chicken eggs in the crook of their elbow and then run laps around the room without breaking them. The result was an extraordinary din and sleeves spattered with yolks as the guests fell about laughing. Only one participant was successful in breaking neither of his eggs – the Tsarevich. He was rewarded for his victory by Prince Christian smashing both on his head to the whoops and hollers of delight of everybody present.

For the children at Charlottenlund, there was an extra special afternoon treat that served to amuse the ladies present too. Princess Louise Charlotte staged a toys' tea party with the adults seated at round tables and the children at lower ones with a brand new doll or toy soldier placed on their little wooden seats when they arrived. Filled with cakes and barley water, the children were then led to the music room where a small stage had been constructed with red velvet curtains. These were drawn back at the appointed hour to reveal a marionette puppet show which was to be narrated by none other than Hans Christian Andersen. Andersen enjoyed royal patronage thanks to the success of his first collection of ‘Fairy Tales Told for Children’ published between 1835 and 1837 and which included his versions of popular European folktale classics such as The Princess and the Pea, Tomb Thumb and The Emperor’s New Clothes but which also introduced stories of his own creation such as Thumbelina and the hugely popular The Little Mermaid. Andersen, being something of a snob, was always pleased when he was in the presence of royalty and on this occasion he was in very high spirits as he narrated the story of the Mermaid who falls in love with a human being and takes a potion from an evil Sea Witch to provide her with legs in exchange for her voice. The royal children were totally captivated and at the end of the performance, Andersen gave inscribed copies of his three volumes of fairy tales to each of them. One of these survives in the Royal Collection, presented to the five-year-old Princess Victoria at the Charlottenlund and which is signed in Andersen’s own hand on the front page; “To Her Royal Highness the Princess Victoria of England [sic], with my sincere hope that she shall enjoy the stories contained within these pages for many years to come”. When she was asked about her memories of Andersen in later years, Victoria remarked rather ungraciously, “He was a wonderful storyteller, of course, but my dear he was such a strange looking fellow”.

380px-Hans_Christian_Andersen_2.jpg

Hans Christian Andersen, 1860.

For the adults, there was a far more suitable foray into the arts with an evening’s gala at the Royal Danish Theatre on the Kongens Nytorv. A special performance had been staged which saw the famous Danish soprano Eleonora Zrza appear as Princess Catarina in a revival of Auber’s comic opera Les diamants de la couronne translated into Danish by T. H Reynoldson and which was a particular favourite with the court since it’s first performance in Copenhagen in 1843 [5]. This was to be Zrza’s last public performance and when asked why she had retired at the height of her success, she remarked somewhat morbidly; “When one has performed for Kings, there is nobody else to sing for but St Peter”. Also in the company that evening was Catharine Simonsen, recently awarded the prestigious title of “Royal Chamber Singer” by King Christian VIII. Married to the violinist Hans Sophus Simonsen, her frequent pregnancies interrupted her career so much that her rare appearances electrified audiences and in 1845, she particularly charmed Hereditary Prince Frederick Wilhelm of Hesse-Kassel. Tragically made a widower the previous year after a very brief marriage to the Grand Duchess Alexandra Nikolaevna (Adini), the daughter of Tsar Nicholas I, the third in line to the Danish throne had been thoroughly miserable and was considering a naval career when he was introduced to Catharine Simonsen. He spent more and more time at the Royal Danish Theatre, completely ignorant to the fact that Simonsen was devoted to her husband. All through the performance of Les Diamants, the Hereditary Prince mooned over the object of his affections much to the displeasure of the Tsarevich and Tsarevna who felt he was being thoroughly disrespectful to the memory of Sasha’s sister and Lottie’s best friend at the Russian Imperial Court. Still, this did little to interrupt the gala which was enjoyed by all.

As their visit to Denmark neared its end, King George and Queen Agnes decided that they had better take advantage of the situation and announce to their gathered families (particularly the Queen’s parents) that Agnes was expecting her first child. So as not to cause offence, the King and Queen met with the Anhalt-Dessaus privately in Prince William’s morning room shortly before dinner to share their happy news. Duke Leopold was absolutely delighted and tearfully embraced his daughter, kissing her on each cheek and shaking his son-in-law by the hand. The Duchess on the other hand was not so profuse in her joy. She rose rather stiffly to plant a single cold kiss on her daughter’s forehead and then sighed, “Of course, it shall be most inconvenient to me to come to England in February. I do so hate to travel in bad weather and the cold…nothing is worse than London in the cold”. George V shot his mother-in-law a disgusted look but Agnes simply smiled and replied practically, “Oh but Mama, you shall not have to travel in February, for you shall be with us at Christmas!”. The Duchess gave a sneering half-smile. The Duke patted his son-in-law’s arm reassuringly and whispered, “Do not worry my boy, we shall talk on these things later”. George V was little confused by this but thought little of it. However, for Duke Leopold his daughter's pregnancy was a pressing concern. Though naturally the arrival of his first grandchild was very important to Leopold personally, as Duke of Anhalt-Dessau he had something else to consider – the line of succession in his Duchy. [6]

As we have previously explored, the situation in Anhalt-Dessau in 1845 was such that if Queen Agnes’ brother failed to succeed his father as Duke, or if he failed to produce a legitimate male heir, the closest living female relative to the last male holder of the Duchy of Anhalt would succeed him – that relative being Queen Agnes. At the time of her marriage to King George V, Leopold IV had raised this question and a gentleman’s agreement was made whereby Agnes would renounce her inheritance so that her sons (if she had any) might follow their grandfather instead. At the time, Leopold had suggested that he might meet with his brothers to discuss the possibility of forming a new family pact to provide for this possibility which he was not entirely opposed to personally but which would require the support of his brothers to legitimize. But when the Duke had opened preliminary discussions with his brothers, they were not so enthusiastic. They did not see the urgency of settling the matter given that in all likelihood, the Queen's brother would marry and provide male heirs. But they did see that they stood to lose out if that chain of events was played out. Their conclusion was that if it ever appeared likely that a British prince might one day succeed his uncle in Dessau, two conditions must be agreed to by all parties; that the child (if indeed he was still a child at the time) must be brought without delay to live in Dessau and get to know his future subjects. They also insisted that the child must also renounce his own succession rights to the thrones of the United Kingdom - to avoid bringing Anhalt Dessau into a union of Crowns with Britain - and Hanover, for the same reason.

In this, the Duke’s brothers sought to keep Anhalt aligned to Prussia – not to Great Britain – and whilst Duke Leopold was sympathetic to their reasoning, he did not believe his son-in-law would take kindly to these conditions. Technically, George V’s wishes were immaterial. If the Anhalt Family Pact stated that a British prince could only succeed to the Duchy on certain conditions, those conditions would need to be met and not even the British King could infringe on the will of a sovereign nation which had every right to set its own inheritance laws. But the Duke saw the potential for family conflict. If Leopold promulgated what his brothers asked, and if the Hereditary Duke died suddenly, there was a very real possibility that an infant Duke of York would be wrestled from his parents and homeland to live in Dessau, only to turn 18 and see his wider inheritance taken from him in exchange for ruling a tiny German duchy of no more than 30,000 subjects. Leopold’s brothers however were unrelenting. And for good reason. Such a pact required the approval of all agnates and they had every reason to veto, for Leopold IV’s only other option would be to sanction the morganatic marriages that had taken place thus making his brothers and his nephews legitimate successors in the male line, which they knew full well Leopold IV was dead set against. Interestingly, it was never discussed as to what might happen if Agnes' child was a girl and the same issue with the Anhalt succession presented itself.

But there was no time for the audience Leopold desired to discuss these important matters. When the news of Agnes’ pregnancy was shared with the other guests at Charlottenlund, Prince William insisted that a bottle of champagne be brought from the cellars for each individual present. Indeed, so much champagne was taken that the Earl of Armagh, Prince Christian and Prince Frederick Wilhelm disappeared for half an hour and raided the dressing rooms above, wobbling down the staircase in ill-fitting gowns and furs, demanding to be announced as “the three happy ladies”, Armagh supported by his valet whom Prince Christian had insisted join in the fun. The sight of the valet with his neatly brushed black moustache and extravagant pink feathered hat caused the guests to dissolve into so much laughter that even the Duchess of Anhalt-Dessau could not hide her amusement and shocked everybody as she rocked backwards and forwards in peals of laughter. The King thought the whole thing so funny that he insisted on the band playing a waltz so he could dance with his cousin Fritz, holding him about the waist and saying loudly, “Do not let my wife see you Madam, she will surely be jealous of your beauty!”, much to the enjoyment of Queen Agnes who called back teasingly “Oh no! Who is this pretty rival for my husband’s affections?!”

The King and Queen both came to dread the end of their visit to Denmark which had been exactly the tonic George V needed after their fruitless State Visit. But it wasn’t just the fun and frolics they would miss. On the morning George and Agnes set off for Copenhagen for an audience with Christian VIII, it came time to bid farewell to the Tsarevich and the Tsarevna who were heading back to Russia aboard the Imperial Yacht. The parting was predictably tearful with Lottie insisting that she would make it to Windsor for Christmas later that year. The King wiped a tear from his eye, holding her close and saying; “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep”. The Tsarevich kissed the Queen on both cheeks and wished her well for the voyage home and the Tsarevna hugged Agnes tightly insisting that her sister-in-law write to her every day so that she wouldn’t miss a single moment of her pregnancy. But all concerned knew the reality. Such occasions for these happy reunions were few. That was the price of their marriages and positions. George stood by the terrace at the back of the Charlottenlund and watched the carriage carrying his sister and brother-in-law clatter away, his eyes flooded with tears as he saw them grow smaller and smaller into the distance until they were gone. Then, he straightened his waistcoat, wiped his face and turned to his wife; “Come my dear…it’s time to leave”.

“It has been lovely here, hasn’t it Georgie?”, Agnes sighed, “I think we should make our own home like this one”

“I do not think Aunt Mary would approve of egg races at Buckingham Palace”, George chuckled, “Though I should pay a small fortune to see her play”

“No no”, Agnes giggled, “I meant at Lisson. It’s ready for us now and I think we should make a promise, to each other, here and now, that it shall always be a happy and relaxed place, not a stiff and formal mausoleum like Buckingham Palace”

“If that is what you wish”, the King grinned, kissing his wife gently on the forehead, “Then that is what you shall have”.

And hand in hand, George and Agnes made their way to their own carriage which was to take them off to Amalienborg. Perhaps this served to remind them what stiff formality really looked like. A conservative man, Christian VIII was not exactly the life and soul of the party. His interests lay in culture and science, and he had asked his curators at the National Museum to bring out his treasures from his frequent journeys abroad – specifically his collection of ancient Greek antiquities. This wasn’t exactly thrilling but the King and Queen did their best to appear intrigued. Then there was a rather drawn out ceremony in which King Christian awarded George V with the insignias of a Knight of the Order of the Elephant and of a Grand Commander of the Order of the Dannebrog. George V responded by awarding Christian VIII the insignia of a Knight of the Garter. Then, the King ordered that the double doors to his dining room be opened. The other guests at the luncheon were exclusively male and so it came as a great relief to Agnes when Queen Caroline Amalie appeared and took her place opposite.

587px-Christian_VIII_og_Caroline_Amalie_i_salvingsdragt.jpg

King Christian VIII and Queen Caroline Amalie.

The two ladies quickly developed a rapport and after luncheon when coffee was served informally in an adjoining salon, they discussed Caroline Amalie's philanthropic work which had greatly endeared her to the Danish people. In 1829, she founded the poor house ‘Dronning Caroline Amalies Asyl’ in the capital and in 1836, established a similar venture in Odense. Much was made of her commitment to the poor, especially to orphaned children which earned her the nickname “The Royal Foster Mother of the Little Ones”. Her charitable work had increased year upon year until other ladies in Danish society saw philanthropy as a duty, a mandatory responsibility of the haves to care for the have nots – though of course, there were some who contributed simply because they wished to improve their standing at court by earning the Queen’s approval. Agnes told Caroline of her proposed nursing project in England and shared her difficulties in knowing how and where to begin - particularly where cost was concerned. Caroline nodded and beckoned a footman, whispered in his ear and then smiled warmly toward Agnes. A few moments later, the footman returned with a ledger. Caroline eagerly showed Agnes the vast sums which her patronage of her poor houses had secured from wealthy Danes and explained that this had made it possible to do all the things she wanted without attracting negative attention from those who may oppose her involvement in what could be seen as something quite political. Agnes took in every word. When she returned to England, there could be no further dithering or delay. She had set her course.

“But my dear”, Queen Caroline Amalie whispered, “You are enceinte! You shall have to wait until the child is born, for these things require one’s absolute commitment. And you have your household to run and your other public duties too”.

“Oh, I shan’t enter my confinement for months yet!”, Agnes laughed, “And I shall welcome the challenge!”

Little did the Queen know quite how challenging life would be when she returned to England.


Notes

[1] This is a very famous quote of Palmerston’s but I’ve had to amend it as we have no Prince Consort in TTL. I’ll also say here that I fully expect corrections on my summary of the S-H Question here and welcome them if I’ve misunderstood/misrepresented anything! It’s also worth adding that this brief foray into the Danish Royal Family’s history and situation in 1845 is well known but I’ve added it in because later on it will be an important issue in TTL.

[2] I’ve already confirmed here that Christian IX will become King of Denmark as in the OTL but obviously I can’t just omit Ferdinand (Frederick VIII in another timeline) from our story at this point.

[3] This is an early redrawing of the alliances that came to define the Royal Houses of Europe. Whilst Edward VII married Alexandra of Denmark in the OTL, Queen Victoria wanted to keep the German influence in her family strong and prioritised her relations there over her daughter-in-law’s family. Here, I’ve deliberately pulled the threads and arranged the marriages so that the ties are much closer to Denmark than to Prussia at this time.

[4] Such requests between monarchs for a relaxation of the established etiquette was not unusual – though it wasn’t always agreed to. In the OTL, Kaiser Wilhelm II sent word to King George I that he was to visit Greece privately and so he didn’t require a formal welcome. George I ignored this and travelled to meet the Kaiser’s yacht personally. When the Crown Prince asked why, George said “Because I want to remind him that I am King in this Kingdom, not him”.

[5] Inspired by OTL events. I couldn’t find any records of the performances staged at the Royal Danish Theatre bar this one in 1843. But it’s plausible so I think it fits quite well.

[6] We’ve gone into some WIs on this score before now, here we get some more detail laying out what the future situation in Anhalt might be.
 
Last edited:
Princess Louise Charlotte staged a teddy bear’s tea party with the adults seated at round tables and the children at lower ones with a brand new teddy bear placed on their little wooden seats when they arrived.
This is an anachronism, I'm afraid - teddy bears date from the early 20th century, and were named for Teddy Roosevelt.

Possibly could be a dolls' tea party instead?
 
This is an anachronism, I'm afraid - teddy bears date from the early 20th century, and were named for Teddy Roosevelt.

Possibly could be a dolls' tea party instead?
Do you know, I had a suspicion this wasn't quite right when I put it in and meant to fact check it before I published.

I'll take your suggestion and we'll have a doll's tea party instead. Many thanks!
 
So! We finally arrive in Denmark. As everyone could have guessed, I have awaited this moment :D

As for the Slesvig-Holsten gordian knot, you covered it pretty well. The only thing I could find missing was perhaps that according to old treaties, neither Slesvig nor Holsten could be incorporated into the kingdom (the treaty of Ribe, I think?), so the whole thing gets an extra layer of messiness. Also, you forgot that Denmark received Lauenburg after the Napoleonic Wars, which means that Lauenburg was added as a duchy to the personal union. It had the same political interests as Holsten though (and is often treated as a simple extension of it), so in the grand scheme of things it’s less important, though it was a seperate entity, which means that some different rules applied to it. The whole conflict is just layer after layer of nitpicking and weird old clauses. I’m currently writing my masters partly on the roots of this whole conflict, which was all the way back in the 13th century with king Erik IV and king Abel! (Yes, I did also stop working for today and read this despite having to hand it in, in 3 days…)

Another curiosity, I find, is that you seem to imply that the succession has been put to the Hesse-Kassels, when otl it went to their daughter Louise’s husband, Christian of Glucksburg, despite them having a son both ttl and otl. Yet it seems that Christian will still be king ttl? I know he only became heir officially with the 1852 London Protocol, but I still found it a bit confusing :)

I hope that, with these switched dynastic ties, you’re setting it up so that Denmark can come put of the whole conflict more succesfully and retain Slesvig as a part of Denmark! <3

Also, fun bit of trivia: Some people think that HC Andersen was the illegitimate son of Christian VIII, which explains his favour with the royal court

(Also, PSA, I’m not necessarily a complete expert on the Slesvig-Holsten subject, so there might be areas of it that I have missed as well!)
 
Last edited:
So! We finally arrive in Denmark. As everyone could have guessed, I have awaited this moment :D
I was eagerly awaiting your feedback on this post, I kept you in mind when I was writing it!
As for the Slesvig-Holsten gordian knot, you covered it pretty well. The only thing I could find missing was perhaps that according to old treaties, neither Slesvig nor Holsten could be incorporated into the kingdom (the treaty of Ribe, I think?), so the whole thing gets an extra layer of messiness. Also, you forgot that Denmark received Lauenburg after the Napoleonic Wars, which means that Lauenburg was added as a duchy to the personal union. It had the same political interests as Holsten though (and is often treated as a simple extension of it), so in the grand scheme of things it’s less important, though it was a seperate entity, which means that some different rules applied to it. The whole conflict is just layer after layer of nitpicking and weird old clauses. I’m currently writing my masters partly on the roots of this whole conflict, which was all the way back in the 13th century with king Erik IV and king Abel! (Yes, I did also stop working for today and read this despite having to hand it in, in 3 days…)
In my first draft I went back to the Treaty of Ribe and put in a rather large chunk about Lauenburg but in my edit, I decided against making that section too overcomplicated. It's such a difficult thing to follow that I decided to keep it strictly to the twin duchies but I will go into a little more detail in the future where I can. And Lauenburg should really be mentioned so I'll be sure to put that right when we cover this topic again. As we must.

I don't envy you having to study this in-depth, it's so confusing in places and full of twists and turns - but I'm very honoured you still gave this chapter a read despite your deadline, so many thanks!
Another curiosity, I find, is that you seem to imply that the succession has been put to the Hesse-Kassels, when otl it went to their daughter Louise’s husband, Christian of Glucksburg, despite them having a son both ttl and otl. Yet it seems that Christian will still be king ttl? I know he only became heir officially with the 1852 London Protocol, but I still found it a bit confusing :)
My apologies, I was trying to write here from an 1840s point of view as if the "cast" had no idea which of the various outcomes would come to pass. Re-reading it, I can see how that might be confusing and how it might lead to the idea that the whole thing was settled on the H-Ks, which obviously it wasn't. Again, I'll try to make that a bit clearer when we reach this subject again.
I hope that, with these switched dynastic ties, you’re setting it up so that Denmark can come put of the whole conflict more succesfully and retain Slesvig as a part of Denmark! <3
Certainly I would say that the thread pulling allows for that - at least I hope it does! But we've a little way to go before then.
Also, fun bit of trivia: Some people think that HC Andersen was the illegitimate son of Christian VIII, which explains his favour with the royal court
Now there's a thought...
(Also, PSA, I’m not necessarily a complete expert on the Slesvig-Holsten subject, so there might be areas of it that I have missed as well!)
Anyone who understands every footstep on the S-H path has my unwavering respect, it's such a historical headache!
 
I don't envy you having to study this in-depth, it's so confusing in places and full of twists and turns - but I'm very honoured you still gave this chapter a read despite your deadline, so many thanks!
Thankfully my focus is more on the dynastic squabbles in the 12th and 13th century, but I would argue that it can be traced back to Abel and his line pursuing closer relations to Holsten in their unsuccesful bid for the crown
In my first draft I went back to the Treaty of Ribe and put in a rather large chunk about Lauenburg but in my edit, I decided against making that section too overcomplicated. It's such a difficult thing to follow that I decided to keep it strictly to the twin duchies but I will go into a little more detail in the future where I can. And Lauenburg should really be mentioned so I'll be sure to put that right when we cover this topic again. As we must.
My apologies, I was trying to write here from an 1840s point of view as if the "cast" had no idea which of the various outcomes would come to pass. Re-reading it, I can see how that might be confusing and how it might lead to the idea that the whole thing was settled on the H-Ks, which obviously it wasn't. Again, I'll try to make that a bit clearer when we reach this subject again.
Ahh, both things are sensible! :) Especially since most readers likely wouldn’t have a clue where to begin with it all
Certainly I would say that the thread pulling allows for that - at least I hope it does! But we've a little way to go before then.
Excellent! I’ll await it eagerly!
Anyone who understands every footstep on the S-H path has my unwavering respect, it's such a historical headache!
It certainly is! Even historians fear the subject
 
Another fantastic chapter. The Danish succession seems more difficult than doing a Rubik's cube blindfolded. I always love the get-togethers George has with other family members. It really shows the human side of European nobles who just want to have a fun time.
 
Andersen, being something of a snob, was always pleased when he was in the presence of royalty and on this occasion he was in very high spirits as he narrated the story of the Mermaid who falls in love with a human being and takes a potion from an evil Sea Witch to provide her with legs in exchange for her voice.
The original version of the tale is pretty messed up - it's got mutilation, torture, and bathing in blood. Plus the mermaid dies without her love ever being requited.

I'm sure Anderson enjoyed regaling it to a bunch of impressionable children.;)
 
Another fantastic chapter. The Danish succession seems more difficult than doing a Rubik's cube blindfolded. I always love the get-togethers George has with other family members. It really shows the human side of European nobles who just want to have a fun time.
Thankyou so much! I always have fun writing the royal gatherings and we know that they really did behave that way. I think if you live that sort of life with all it's restrictions and stresses, the opportunity to play the fool and be totally yourself among people who are doing exactly the same thing for the same reasons must serve as a kind of lifeline. I'm sure it helped to keep them sane. Well, most of them!
The original version of the tale is pretty messed up - it's got mutilation, torture, and bathing in blood. Plus the mermaid dies without her love ever being requited.

I'm sure Anderson enjoyed regaling it to a bunch of impressionable children.;)
They're all rather terrifying aren't they? Toes being chopped off to fit glass slippers and all that kind of thing.

I think children were possibly tougher then - not a singing crab in sight to soften the blow. ;)
 
Great chapter as always :) Haven’t been commenting much lately but it’s still being enjoyed hugely.


They're all rather terrifying aren't they? Toes being chopped off to fit glass slippers and all that kind of thing.

I think children were possibly tougher then - not a singing crab in sight to soften the blow. ;)
Yeah, and that continued for quite a while - even watching early cartoons, they’re very dark compared to the kind of thing that you saw after maybe the 1950s. There really wasn’t an idea that children needed to be ‘shielded’ from this stuff.

As best illustrated by the way people for years classified The Count of Monte Cristo as a children’s book and indeed children regularly read it at its time. To quote the translator of my edition: ‘there are not many children’s books, even in our own time, that involve a female serial poisoner, two cases of infanticide, a stabbing and three suicides; an extended scene of torture and execution; drug-induced sexual fantasies; illegitimacy; transvestism and lesbianism…’ XD
 
They're all rather terrifying aren't they? Toes being chopped off to fit glass slippers and all that kind of thing.
One of the older versions of Sleeping Beauty has the prince, when he finds the princess, rape her in her sleep. She gets pregnant and gives birth to twins, still asleep.
 
GV: Part Four, Chapter Ten: Cat and Mouse
King George V

Part Four, Chapter Ten: Cat and Mouse
As the King and Queen boarded the Sovereign with all its luxurious home comforts, other members of their delegation were forced to take a smaller (and far less comfortable) ship back to England. George and Agnes had deliberately increased their retinue for their visit to Russia to keep parity with the army of officials and servants the Romanovs engaged but now their party was reduced to just a handful including the Duchess of Grafton, Colonel and Mrs Arbuthnot, Lady Maria Beauclerk, Charlie Phipps and William Mansfield. Everybody else, including Lord Morpeth and Lord Shelburne, returned home. The Foreign Secretary was particularly keen to get back to London for now the attempt to deliver a diplomatic victory had slipped through his fingers in Russia, he needed the Prime Minister’s approval for his Plan B. Morpeth had gauged Lord Melbury’s opinion before his departure from Russia, but he could not put it into action without Melbury’s formal consent and this he intended to secure without delay. But the Prime Minister had far more pressing matters to attend to. When Morpeth returned to brief the Cabinet on the unfortunate failures of the Russian State Visit of 1845, he was somewhat taken aback that neither the Prime Minister nor his Cabinet colleagues seemed to express any other sentiment than polite disappointment. Indeed, halfway through his briefing on Russian matters, Melbury raised a hand and asked if Morpeth might circulate the rest of his report in writing at another time. There could be only one priority at that meeting, a pressing issue which had passed the Foreign Secretary by during his time abroad – the situation in Ireland.

The failure of a potato crop was nothing knew to the Irish people. They were used to bad harvests and though they had always suffered as a result, for the most part the failure was regional and short-lived. But the blight of 1845 was different. For the first time, the entire country had been affected and there was not a farm from Cork to Donegal that had been spared. When news first reached London of the situation in Ireland, the government dispatched agricultural experts to assess the problem. They reported that whilst there would undoubtedly be a higher loss of life than with previous crop failures, they were certain that by the next harvest the food shortages would be resolved. They recommended temporary relief measures and set a date to return to Ireland to re-examine the situation in 12 months’ time. But by October, their findings were already shockingly out of date, and it wasn’t just the food shortages that were causing devastation. Naturally the people of Ireland were stunned to see a crop failure on such an enormous scale and in their desperation, they sought answers as to why they were facing a national famine. The theories being shared on the streets of Dublin were far more than idle gossip. They threatened to cause serious civil unrest with one official predicting that “if the situation does not improve urgently, we shall face a bloody and violent uprising in Ireland the like of which we have not seen for two hundred years”.

The unprecedented enormity of the crop failure gave rise to all kinds of wild conjecture. Some thought it was a by product of the railways, the dirt and the soot having settled on the potato fields causing the crop to rot. Many Catholics were told by their parish priests that the blight was God’s punishment for their sins, a trial they must bear and offer up to Christ to prove their devotion. But the most widespread (and most damaging theory from the point of view of the British government) was that the food shortages caused by the blight were an administrative choice imposed upon the Irish peasantry by their landlords. Rumours abounded that additional food supplies had been sent from England for the Anglo-Irish landlords and that they were hoarding it and failing to share it with their tenants who had nothing to eat. It did not take long before the streets of Dublin were filled with prophets of doom calling for the populace to repent for their wickedness stood alongside political dissidents demanding justice from “our absentee ruling class”. It was only a matter of time before this sort of talk inspired violence. When the Cabinet in London discussed this prospect, Lord Morpeth (who himself had previously served as Chief Secretary of Ireland) said that he very much doubted the situation could be that serious. During his own time in Dublin, he had seen many crop failures and food shortages and there was no real evidence that this one would be any worse than those which had gone before. He quickly became frustrated that the talk at the Cabinet table was being dominated by Ireland when all he wanted to discuss was his plans for how to rebalance things in the Great Game, an idea he truly believed would bring a much-needed success in a weak policy area. But Melbury would not be deterred. Nothing was going to distract him from Ireland.

When the Whigs were returned to power in 1844, parliamentary arithmetic was not on their side and thus, the government served under the permanent shadow of potential collapse. Because of this, Lord Melbury had to consider all possible avenues he might explore to secure support in parliament for his legislative agenda from beyond the Whig benches. By far the largest faction prepared to offer this (for certain concessions) was Daniel O’Connell’s Repeal Association with around 60 seats in the House of Commons. O’Connell respected Melbury and had thus far made no great demands on him because the alternative was a toppled Whig administration and the return of Sir James Graham’s Tories – not exactly the natural bedfellows of the Repeal Association. Naturally O’Connell was the first to raise the situation in Ireland in the Commons in 1845 but strangely, Melbury offered very little beyond reassuring O’Connell that “steps [were] being considered”. O’Connell tried repeatedly to arrange a meeting with Melbury at Downing Street and yet his requests were always politely rebuffed with the same excuse – it simply wasn’t an appropriate or convenient time. Behind the scenes however, and in the absence of Lord Morpeth, Melbury had been putting together his own response to the crop failure in Ireland which he kept a closely guarded secret from his Cabinet colleagues. He would later be accused of holding out much needed relief and reassurance for the people of Ireland for his own political advantage, a claim he bitterly resented and rejected in retirement, but which prevails in the court of public opinion today.

410px-Edward_John_Littleton%2C_1st_Baron_Hatherton_by_Sir_George_Hayter.jpg

Edward John Littleton, 1st Baron Hatherton

When the Tories left office in 1844, Lord Eliot was replaced as Chief Secretary for Ireland by Edward Littleton, created Baron Hatherton in 1835 [1]. Lord Hatherton was regarded as an essential asset to the Whigs in Ireland because he had two advantages over any other candidate proposed. The first was entirely political. Hatherton had crossed the floor, leaving the Tories for the Whigs, because he fundamentally disagreed with their approach to Catholic emancipation. So committed to this cause was he that was deemed a radical by his fellow Tories and given no choice but to find a new political home. This wasn’t difficult for Hatherton because he increasingly sided with other Whig policies and found like minded souls in the party where the repeal of the Corn Laws was concerned. Indeed, many questioned how he had ever been elected as a Tory member of parliament at all. In a parliament where the Tories were always snapping at Whig heels, it was useful to point out that the division on the key issues of the day had seen some Tories fly the coop and settle on the Whig benches instead. But the second advantage of Hatherton’s appointment was that his very vocal stance on emancipation gave the impression (even if it was not entirely the case) that he would be naturally sympathetic to the needs of the Irish Catholics and at least receive their demands more fairly than his predecessor ever had. This gave the impression that Melbury had appointed a compassionate and empathetic figure – though it must be said that Hatherton was once quoted as telling Lord Beresford that he didn’t much care about Ireland. That said, the fact that Hatherton had once sat with Daniel O’Connell in the Commons did much to give the Repeal Association hope that they could consider him to be “their man in government”. 1845 would prove just how far this friendship could be tested.

During Lord Melbourne’s tenure as Prime Minister, the Whigs had introduced the Church Temporalities Act which abolished the church rate, thereby easing tensions with the Irish Catholics who bitterly opposed being forced to pay a tax to the clergy of the Church of Ireland. Many expected that tithes, a similar tax that inspired the same ire among Catholics, would be abolished too but the Whigs took no steps to do so. When the Tories came into government following the Whig defeat under Lord Cottenham, Sir James Graham indicated that he would be willing to reduce the rate paid “if the circumstances demand it” but such a reduction (even a temporary one) was never forthcoming. When the Whigs returned to government in 1844, Lord Melbury told the Commons that tithes were under review once more as they could be seen as directly responsible for increased resistance and violence against British officials and troops in Ireland. But like his predecessor, Melbury had not tackled this thorny issue – possibly because he did not wish to rock the boat too much given the instability of his administration. The crop failure in 1845 brought Irish matters to the fore once more and believing that an uprising really was likely if the situation in Ireland did not improve, Melbury drew up a three point plan to diffuse any rise in tensions.

His first proposal was a relatively simple one – to suspend the payment of tithes for the duration of the crisis [2]. Some in the Whig party supported the payment of tithes whilst others were ambivalent but there was not a loud enough call from any faction to abolish them completely. Such a move would undoubtedly inspire a passionate debate and risk exposing disagreements within the party but to suspend the tithes for a time could only be regarded as a reasonable response in a time of difficulty for the Irish population. The second proposal was equally rational. If the situation did not improve and if starvation took hold, the government would sanction a Relief Commission to be established in Dublin to organise employment projects and distribute emergency food supplies [3]. Landowners would have to pay half the cost of this programme whilst the British government would pay the other half. This was likely to inspire animosity in some, even on the Whig benches, but again it did not risk throwing the government into disarray. Indeed, it may serve to expose more divisions in the Tory party. But the third proposal was likely to prove more far more controversial on both sides of the House of Commons. The Whigs had long since taken a position against the Corn Laws, the nickname for the legislation introduced in 1815 which saw tariffs placed on grain to favour domestic agriculture. The opportunity to abolish the Corn Laws had often presented itself, indeed, Charles Henry Pellham (the Whig Member of Parliament for Wolverhampton) had proposed motions for their repeal every year since he arrived in the Commons. He had not yet done so in 1845…and yet Lord Melbury was seriously considering the possibility of adopting the motion when he did, either of his own volition or by being prompted by the Chief Whip. [4]

This proposal was bound to cause chaos among the Tories – indeed, it may even serve to split the party permanently. Though Melbury did not consider that the situation in Ireland was so pressing at this time that repeal was urgent, he considered that it may be in the future and that in this event, the Tories were likely to turn on each other as those who belonged to the Anti-Corn Law League came out in support and those Tory landowners who opposed repeal fought openly against their colleagues. But plenty of Whig landowners opposed repeal too – though not in such large numbers. The repeal of the Corn Laws was now placed in the private political armoury of Lord Melbury, ready to be deployed if the situation called for it. Lord Hatherton had returned to England to meet with the Prime Minister following the agricultural report into the crop failure in October 1845. When he did so, Melbury asked his advice on what the British government could do to make a gesture of goodwill toward the Irish people to sustain them until the next harvest resolved the situation - and briefed him under strict promises of confidentiality on his wider approach to the Irish situation. Hatherton welcomed the suspension of church tithes – though he was cautious to advise that such a move may be taken by some in Ireland as the British government “giving in” after so many years of unrest. If the Whigs were to suspend tithes, it must be made absolutely clear that they were doing so temporarily and only because it would ease the financial burden on those worst affected by the failure of the potato crop. Hatherton fully endorsed a Relief Commission in Dublin too, though he cautioned that he foresaw disagreements on what form this relief should take and who should receive it. [5]

But when it came to the Corn Laws, Hatherton was absolutely delighted to hear that finally, the Whigs had grasped the nettle. He was a proud member of the Anti-Corn Law League and fully believed that Lord Russell’s supporters would help to bring those against repeal on the Whig benches into line. Though undoubtedly there would be a handful who could not bring themselves to vote with the government, this would be offset by supporters from other parties. This would not only provide a safety net in Ireland if the next harvest did not improve but with the lack of any real legislative success in other areas, it could prove a popular policy which would stabilise the government – and tear their opponents apart leaving them all at sea should there be a snap general election. In other words, Hatherton could not provide a single reason as to why the Corn Laws should not be repealed, even if he was aware that Melbury may be using the Irish crisis for domestic political gain. However, the timing of a motion, it’s adoption, the creation of legislation and the subsequent debate, division and Royal Assent would take time and it was unlikely that a bill could be put before the Commons until at least February 1846 – nearly five months away. The situation in Ireland required something immediate to show that the British government were taking the sufferings of the Irish seriously. Fortunately, Hatherton had just the answer Melbury was looking for.

In 1795, an act of parliament was passed in the United Kingdom which allowed for the legal establishment of the Royal College of St Patrick “for the better education of persons professing the Popish or Roman Catholic religion”. The intention was two-fold. Firstly, to provide a university education for lay and ecclesiastical Catholic students in Ireland and secondly, to quell potential Catholic rebellion against the British inspired by the French Revolution. By 1814, the lay college had closed entirely and thus, St Patrick’s became a Roman Catholic seminary exclusively. Located in Maynooth, Dublin, the withdrawal of the lay college led to a debate on how far the British government could continue to support St Patrick’s financially. Since 1842, the Catholic hierarchy in Ireland had consistently petitioned the British government to review the funding arrangements and to increase the grant paid to the college. But Sir James Graham was no fool. He knew that to take such steps would only serve to decimate his party and doom his government to a swift collapse and an electoral humiliation of their own making [6]. Therefore, Graham simply ignored the requests each and every time they were made to the Chief Secretary – as they were frequently between 1842 and 1845 [7]. During his tenure as Chief Secretary however, Hatherton had received only one such request, a request he said he would put to the British government at the earliest opportunity. Here was that opportunity and Hatherton urged Melbury to respond quickly and positively to the college’s request. To do so would indicate goodwill toward the Catholic population in Ireland, bring the Catholic hierarchy on side whilst also causing divisions in the Oppositions that could be just as damaging as a debate on the repeal of the Corn Laws. Melbury liked what he heard. Now all he had to do was take it to Cabinet and propose it as an accompanying measure to the temporary suspension of tithes to be introduced as an immediate response to the crop failure in Ireland.

640px-Stpatirckscollegemaynooth.JPG

St Patrick's College, Maynooth.

History has been particularly unkind to King George V when it comes to the matter of his personal response to the Irish famine. He is often misquoted as saying “The Irish exaggerate and should eat cabbages instead” – yet as we have previously seen, this was a (deliberate) misrepresentation for what George actually said when Lord Morpeth first informed him of the crop failure in Ireland and it’s earliest consequences as “There is a tendency to exaggerate in the Irish news and [Lord Morpeth] reassures me that the population may find other food sources in cabbages or turnips”. The fact that the King was not given more information by his Foreign Secretary is not surprising; Morpeth was far more interested in Russian/Afghan/Indian affairs than he was in what most considered just another crop failure in Ireland. If George V did not respond with any sense of urgency to the famine, it is because it was not yet a famine at all and because his primary advisor in his absence from England did not feel it worthwhile to make the King aware of just how serious things may become. But because George was absent from Britain when the blight struck Ireland, and because he was not present when the British government began to formulate a response to it, he has since been accused of being disinterested in the plight of his Irish subjects. Criticised by a Repeal Association MP for “sipping champagne and dining on caviar in the palaces of Europe…whilst his people in Ireland starve”, the King would only learn that this criticism of his perceived apathy even existed upon his return to England – which would not be for another fortnight yet.

So it was that the King and Queen were sailing about in the North Sea on their way toward Holland, not only ignorant of a key political issue pushing itself to the forefront but also of the rumbling discontent in their own home at Buckingham Palace. Princess Mary had greatly enjoyed her time from 1842 until 1845 as the unrivalled matriarch of the Royal Household. She had also enjoyed unpicking the reforms installed by the late Queen Louise which allowed Mary to return the court to the customs and traditions which dominated every British royal residence during the tenure of Mary’s mother, the late Queen Charlotte. Among these revived conventions was the service of meals a la française with the late Queen Louise’s preference for the more modern service à la russe abandoned. But Mary also revived the custom of maids and other junior servants being forced to stop their work if a royal personage approached, face the wall, and remain silent until a Royal Highness had passed them by. It must be said that although she was respected by courtiers and domestics in the Royal Household alike, Princess Mary was not always the easiest to please. Her servants (and those in other royal residences who looked after her during her visits) were used to accommodating her enormous appetite and were usually quite amused by it. What was far less amusing was Mary’s outrage at any kind of change in the personnel of each household – particularly at Buckingham Palace. For Mary, the servants she had known during her father’s reign were irreplaceable treasures and as they grew older, retired or died in service, she was loathe to accept their younger replacements.

When George V and Queen Agnes set off for Russia in 1845, Princess Mary took up residence in her old rooms at Buckingham Palace. Though the Palace would have run perfectly well without her, she insisted that somebody should be present as the staff took the opportunity of a prolonged royal absence to undertake the almost impossible (and so often delayed) task of a spring/summer clean. Every chandelier was to be lowered, each brick of a parquet floor polished and all soft furnishings laundered, aired and repaired before Their Majesties returned. This was to be approached as if it were a military operation with every player knowing their part and expected to execute it to perfect precision. Yet this was not easy when Princess Mary, donning an apron as if she intended to actually pitch in with the manual labour – which she certainly did not, sailed into each room examining every nook and cranny to check for signs of shoddy workmanship. As the palace domestic staff tried to undertake their work on a strict time limit, Mary would often interrupt them with phrases such as “Oh no dear, that vase never lived there” - by which she meant it had been moved since her mother died and should therefore be moved back to where it was during Queen Charlotte’s day. This applied to settees, chairs, tables, portraits, and other antiques as well as vases and so rather than spending their valuable time cleaning the rooms, the palace staff found that they were actually engaged in rearranging every stick of furniture to Princess Mary’s personal tastes.

The servants were happy to accommodate this, after all they were used to Princess Mary as mistress of the house, with one exception. When it came to the Private Apartments, the staff had been painstakingly careful to replace everything in the rooms exactly the way the King and Queen had left it. They considered this chore over until Mary waddled into the King’s Study. She declared it far too dusty and disliked the smell of stale smoke on the draperies, thus she ordered that all the furniture be taken out and the whole room cleaned again. She applied the same zeal for cleanliness to the Queen’s apartments too and as she had done in other rooms, moved the furniture where she thought it should be. But when Mary returned the next day and happened to go into the Queen’s apartments to use the dressing room, she was horrified to find that all of her hard work had been undone. Someone had put the furniture back to its original position. When she asked who had dared to do such a thing, she was told that Mr Willis, a Page of the Backstairs, was the culprit. Mary summoned him and demanded to know why he had defied her orders.

“Because Her Majesty is most particular about her rooms, Your Royal Highness”, Willis replied calmly, “I did not think she would like to return to something foreign”.

Mary pursed her lips and flushed red. In that moment, she decided that she didn’t care for Willis at all. She was predetermined not to. Albert Willis was just 28 years old and had already climbed the ladder of the domestic household to reach the position of a Page of the Backstairs. Appointed by the Queen who liked his sunny disposition (and perhaps his handsome countenance too), Willis was deeply honoured to have risen through the ranks to serve Her Majesty personally and he was (as almost all of her personal staff were) enormously fond of Agnes. But Willis had replaced one of Princess Mary’s favourites, Mr Algernon Healey. Healy had served as a Page of the Backstairs since 1801 during Mary’s father’s reign and she had therefore known Healey incredibly well and was enormously fond of him [8]. But Healey had grown old in royal service and in 1845, he offered his resignation as he turned 70 years old.

gettyimages-3297042-612x612.jpg

Princess Mary.

As well he might, for the role of a Page required a certain degree of physical energy with endless stairs to climb and a seemingly revolving collection of trays to carry. John Whiting became the Senior Page when Healey retired but the fact that Willis, at just 28 years old, had been appointed to the Pages’ Room irked Mary from the start. She found Willis to be “a cheeky little peacock” and claimed that his good looks were “a distraction to the maids who are lost to daydreaming when he appears”. When Willis tried to further defend his actions, Princess Mary dismissed him from her presence and called the Master of the Household, Sir Frederick Beilby Watson, to her rooms [9]. She wanted Willis dismissed for insolence. But Watson could not agree. In days gone by, Princess Mary could dismiss whomsoever she liked (provided their post at court was not a political appointment) and Watson was only too happy to oblige. On this occasion however, Mary did not have that right – a right which belonged only to Queen Agnes and who would no doubt be outraged to return home and find one of her closest servants had been sacked simply because he had gotten on the wrong side of the King’s aunt in what was a relatively minor squabble. Mary puffed and blowed as Watson tried to explain this in the most delicate way, agreeing with her that Willis was a little rough about the edges but that he had only acted as he had with the Queen’s comfort in mind. Begrudgingly, the Princess accepted this, sent Watson away and decided to have an afternoon nap on a chaise in the Queen’s bedroom rather than her own rooms – having the chaise moved again before she did so.

Mary was therefore in a bit of a sulk when her sister-in-law arrived at the Palace, unannounced, slap bang in the middle of afternoon tea – Mary’s favourite time of the day. Nonetheless, Mary welcomed the Duchess of Cambridge with a kiss and offered a small ration of the enormous spread laid on the tea table.

“Thank you, Mary, dear”, Augusta said politely, “But I really can’t stop with you for tea, I came because…well, it’s a slightly delicate matter and I thought you would know what to do for the best”?

“A thief?!”, Mary declared, pulling her plate of buttered crumpets towards her protectively and eyeing the room suspiciously.

“No no!”, Augusta cried, pulling her sister’s note from her bag, “I had a visit from my sister yesterday-“

“That ghastly creature?”, Mary bellowed, relaxing her grip on her crumpets, “And what poison was she in the business of spreading, one wonders?”

“Well, that’s just it”, Augusta said, “She gave me this note to give to Mr Garrard. I haven’t read it- “

“Let us look at Granny”, the Princess enthused, reaching out with jammy fingers to take the paper. Augusta protested that she didn’t think they should actually open the note, but Mary would have none of it; “Nonsense”, she snapped, “We must be in possession of all the facts, my dear, ‘Zeal is no good without knowledge’”.

With a certain degree of cheerfulness, Mary tore open the Queen Mother’s letter, picked up her lorgnette, and peered down at the handwriting. Her smile quickly faded and her cheeks flushed red once more.

“You did well to bring this to me Augusta, dear”, she said tersely, “And I promise you, I shall put an end to this very quickly”

“But Mary, I do not-“

“Calm yourself my dear”, Mary soothed the Duchess, who was really quite calm already, “I shall take great pleasure in dealing with this matter personally. It has been too long since I saw my sister-in-law, I believe it is time we were reacquainted. Now, I understand you set sail for the continent tomorrow and I’m sure you have much to arrange, so do not tarry here…”

“Mary, I really-“

Mary raised a hand and silenced Augusta.

“There is no need to thank me”, she said magnanimously, “We are family, after all. Now off you go my dear and have a happy time in Italy…well, as happy a time as one can have in Italy…”

And with that, a rather bemused Duchess of Cambridge left the room. She could not shake the horrible feeling that of all the options open to her in the matter, she had just pursued the very worst for all concerned. That night at Cambridge House in Piccadilly, Augusta decided to insure herself against the inevitable fall out from Princess Mary’s impending visit to Kew. She hastily penned a letter to Queen Agnes and gave it to her butler to take to Buckingham Palace. The letter can be reproduced here, in full, for the first time.

Dearest Nessa,

It grieves me that I cannot be there to welcome you home after what I am certain has been a very tiring but successful visit. I thought it best to tell that you the unpleasantness of the Garrard situation came to me and that I believed it best at the time to pass it to Mary for I sail for Italy in just a few short hours. I shall not be returning until the second week of Advent and as we are to move about a great deal, I do not know how you shall find me but if there is any cause for you to write to me about any matter then I shall be at the Grand Hotel Minerva [sic] in Rome from the 16th November until we sail for home.

Please do not fret about that unfortunate business for I know it is all likely to be a misunderstanding and I know you would not do anything unkind. But perhaps you might delay progress with Mr G. until I return and then we can discuss the matter further and find a happy resolution? I hope we can. I must go now because I have much yet to arrange for our passage. I send you my love my dear, I shall be thinking of you.

Your ever-loving aunt, Augusta

At the very same time, Princess Mary was writing a note of her own to her brother Adolphus, Augusta’s husband. Again, the contents are revealed here exclusively.

My own dear brother,

Augusta came to me today with the Garrard business. I intend to settle it myself at Kew and shall call upon you directly thereafter at the cottage. I have ordered Mr G. to your house so we may meet with him together. I shall bring the tea you like.

With affection as always, Mary

The stage for a right royal showdown had been set.


Notes
[1] In the OTL, Littleton had already served as Chief Secretary of Ireland for a brief period but in TTL, the Whigs were not in office at that time and so Littleton would not have held the post yet. This means that we butterfly his own actions in Ireland from the OTL in 1833/34 and his responses here are drawn from his more general opinions on the issues covered.

[2] This was a Whig suggestion in the OTL which obviously came to naught as they were not in government at this time.

[3] A cross party proposal from the OTL which was actually put in place.

[4] The political groundwork laid in TTL so far has been leading to this moment for reasons which shall become clear as we go forward.

[5] This is in keeping with comments made by Hatherton on similar proposals in the OTL.

[6] Here the Maynooth Grant (sort of) keeps it’s original TL and timing.

[7] In the OTL, Peel didn’t ignore them of course. I believe Graham would have done.

[8] Healey existed in the OTL, Willis did not.

[9] Watson serves a little longer here than here did in the OTL for reasons that shall become clear in time.
 
Great chapter man!

I really hope that the Irish are given proper help this time around and that George can maintain the unity of the british isles!

And the showdown will be something else.
 
Oh dear... Ireland is about to blow...and I fear that, instead of being helpful, George is going to find himself distracted by the upcoming showdown between his overbearing aunt and pregnant wife... I don't envy him!

The travel chapters were wonderful, though. I do love seeing the human side of our royals...
 
Top