GV: Part Four: Chapter Eleven: Secrets and Lies
King George V
Part Four, Chapter Eleven: Secrets and Lies
The King and Queen had scheduled a three-day stopover in the Netherlands, ostensibly to pay a visit to the George V’s cousin, the Princess of Orange, but in reality it was a trip neither would have considered with any real enthusiasm had it not been for the fact that they were trying to break up their long journey home for the Queen’s comfort. Though this was a private visit to the Netherlands, King William II was not willing to overlook the formalities of the royal arrival in the same way as his Danish counterpart. As the Sovereign sailed into Delfzijl, the glorious golden chaloupe designed by Cornelis Jan Glavimans for King William I of the Netherlands sailed alongside the British Royal Yacht to allow George V and Queen Agnes to reach the harbour in style. When they stepped onto Dutch soil, a small army of court officials presided over by William II’s youngest son Prince Henry formed a welcome party and a modest clutch of soldiers gave a salute. But Prince Henry’s presence was not simply convention as a representative of one monarch formally greeting another, rather he had an important message to impart which had been dispatched before the British party left Copenhagen but which had failed to reach them in time. Word had been sent from Het Loo that there was an outbreak of disease in the surrounding villages because of the intense summer heat and that, for their safety, the Prince and Princess of Orange had left for Brussels to visit King Leopold. The message was signed by the Princess’ secretary but there was no accompanying personal note from Victoria with her apologies. A second letter was handed over to the King from Queen Anna. She wrote that she had heard of the unfortunate circumstances which prevented George and Agnes from visiting Het Loo and would be most happy to host them instead at the Soestdijk Palace.Part Four, Chapter Eleven: Secrets and Lies
Soestdijk Palace, today.
Soestdijk Palace, named after the village in which it was built by the De Graeff family in the mid-19th century, was purchased by Stadhouder William III in 1674, becoming a favourite summer residence for the Dutch Royal Family thereafter. Seized as a spoil of war, it was much enjoyed by Louis Bonaparte during his short tenure as King of Holland, but it was really King William II and Queen Anna who reaped the rewards of his extension and renovation of the property. Granted to William II in 1815 in recognition of his service at Waterloo, the King and Queen enjoyed Soestdijk so much that they often stayed well beyond the summer months, and it quickly became their primary residence. King George V and Queen Agnes were to stay in the Baarn wing, an addition made by William II in 1821 and which in 1842 was kitted out with neoclassical furnishings snatched at the last from the former Dutch royal palace in Brussels. It was an incredibly comfortable billet, and the British royal couple could ask for no finer place to rest for a few days before their return journey to England. Yet George was far from pleased upon his arrival in Baarn. He believed that his cousin had changed her mind at the last and consumed by awkwardness and embarrassment at their past clashes, had taken herself off to Brussels to avoid seeing him. But nothing could have been further from the truth.
As we have seen, the Princess of Orange was desperate to be reunited with her cousin, her links to her English relations remained extremely important to her (at some personal cost at the Dutch court) and she had not been able to meet with any of them for quite some time. But though Queen Anna knew just how important this meeting was for her daughter-in-law’s happiness, the events of the past few weeks had given her a new, all-consuming priority. King William and Queen Anna had discussed their grandson’s condition in private and both were united in their belief that his diagnosis must never be revealed beyond palace walls – but neither could it become known within them. Neither the court, nor the Dutch population, were ever to know the truth of Prince William’s illness and those who had already been exposed to the situation at Het Loo were sworn to absolute secrecy. It wasn’t just that the young Prince may not survive infancy – that was tragically all too common for all classes. The prevailing danger was that people would become suspicious as to where the problem had originated. They presumed most would blame the already unpopular Princess of Orange, but they could not rule out the possibility that some may see the illness as having manifested itself from some anomaly within the Dutch royal line. They even worried that people might presume that Prince Alexander’s condition was not at all related to his accident of the past and that he too had been struck down by haemophilia, a condition the general public had no real understanding of at this time. For these reasons alone, the Dutch King and Queen were prepared to keep, preserve, and protect their grandson’s condition as a state secret and that would mean uncomfortable sacrifices.
The Prince of Orange was summoned to his father’s palace to discuss this situation. From his diaries, we know that Prince William’s diagnosis caused huge personal anguish. Around that time, he wrote “The sunshine that brought so much happiness is now hidden behind the clouds and I must live every day in terror, knowing that it could mean the loss of everything truly dear to me”. Yet he did not express those sentiments to his parents. Perhaps he could not. Queen Anna later called her son “horribly cold” and said that during these discussions she felt “shame and anger as I have never felt before”. When the King outlined what he believed the best course forward, the Prince of Orange agreed but stressed that he felt there was a present danger of the situation being made public not through a courtier or servant but through the behaviour of his wife. Calling Victoria “hopelessly unstable and unpredictable”, he reasserted his agreement with his mother’s doctors that his wife must go away for a time, perhaps to a sanatorium, for proper treatment for her melancholy and mood swings. Either way, a separation of mother and child was essential (the Prince insisted) until a sense of normality and strict routine could be imposed at Het Loo. Neither the King nor the Queen were taken in by this one bit. They knew their son’s priority was not Victoria’s wellbeing but rather to force her out of Het Loo and remove her from court entirely so that he could promote his mistress in her stead. That would never happen, not so long as William II lived.
But as much as they valued, and wished to protect, their daughter-in-law, the Princess of Orange was not included in the talks at Soestdijk. Perhaps because she refused to leave Het Loo, or perhaps because she simply wasn’t invited. Either way, the King and Queen would have imposed their will regardless. Their first priority was of course, to find the best possible medical professionals to advise them but this came with its own difficulties. There were specialists in haemophilia who were renowned for their ground-breaking research in the 1820s and 30s which gave new hope to many afflicted by the disease – yet their fame preceded them, and a real concern was that if one of these physicians arrived at court and headed to Het Loo, the cat would immediately be let out of the bag. Still, it made sense to begin with these pioneers in the field and then work outwards. Queen Anna’s doctors advised her that the very best in Europe at that time was Christian Friedrich Nasse, a German physician from Bielefeld who was a professor of pathology at the University of Bonn. He had carried out great research into haemophilia, indeed he was the first to use the term in a medical journal in the early 1820s. In this journal, he detailed his findings in what would become known as ‘Nasse’s Law’, the dictum that states that haemophilia occurs only in males but is transmitted through females. But there was another reason for Queen Anna’s physicians to recommend Nasse. As well as being an expert physician, he was also a renowned psychiatrist. In this, they were surreptitiously keeping a private promise to the Prince of Orange to “assist” his wife, unbeknown to his parents who remained convinced that the only thing wrong with Victoria’s mental state was the neglect of the Prince himself.
However, Nasse could not be considered because of his high profile, neither could his assistant, the physician Johann Lukas Schönlein. He had parted company with Nasse and had taken a position as the court physician to the King of Prussia, leaving behind one individual in Zurich who had worked with both Nasse and Schönlein but who did not enjoy their status in the medical field. He was the 34-year-old Swiss physician Werner Bertod. Irritated that his colleagues had gone onto much higher things, Bertod elected to add to his credentials by going to England to study with renowned surgeon Samuel Andersen Lane. It was this association in particular that (coupled with his virtual anonymity) made him exactly the right choice to become the new physician to the Prince and Princess of Orange. In 1840, Lane had made headlines when he successfully carried out the world’s first blood transfusion on a haemophiliac patient – and had saved his life. [1]
Christian Friedrich Nasse
A seven-year-old boy had been brought to Lane with a severe bleed after he fell from a tree. Until this time, haemophilia was treated with the application of leeches sewn over the site of the bleed with ligatures to keep them in place, the idea being that if there was an excess of blood, the leeches would remove it. This was the treatment the boy’s local physician pursued. However, leeches secrete hirudin – an anticoagulant – and thus far from being “cured” of his bleeding episode, the seven-year-old who came to Lane was on the brink of death. Lane believed he could save the boy’s life but it was a risky procedure that had never been attempted on a haemophiliac before. Using a special syringe designed for the purpose, Lane bled a healthy young woman with her blood collected in a funnel. The syringe was then introduced to the patient’s vein at the bend of the elbow. Lane recorded that the results of this experiment were “most remarkable and dramatic”. Within two hours, the patient had stopped bleeding and his pulse had returned to normal. Within a day, the boy was fully recovered and could return home. Bertod had since been present when the experiment had been repeated on other patients with different conditions and had begun work on a journal as to how his own pioneering treatments might be used together with regular blood transfusions to “cure” haemophilia. [2]
Bertod was delighted that his efforts in his field were to receive the same recognition as those of his counterparts (he had been particularly miffed when Schönlein had snapped up the post he wanted at the Prussian court) but when the command to attend an audience with Queen Anna reached him, no mention was made of why the Dutch court really wished to engage him. In her letter, Anna spoke of the ongoing health problems of her son Prince Alexander. She understood that Bertod had studied under Schönlein who was known for his expertise in respiratory conditions (particularly tuberculosis) and felt that he might prove to be a good fit in the Prince’s household. Indeed, this was how Bertod was gazetted when he joined the Dutch court as a physician in November 1845. But very quickly, Bertod was made aware of the truth behind his engagement. He kept the condition of Prince William as a closely guarded secret and even when asked in his later years if he had treated the Prince for haemophilia, he would reply “I served at the Dutch court. That was my work, and my privilege”. It is entirely possible this tight lipped approach was easier to maintain in his retirement for Bertod was made a Count in 1848 and given a very generous pension with which he purchased a large estate in Gelderland.
Bertod set to work immediately and devised a treatment plan for Prince William which he guaranteed would keep him free from the worst of his disease. Every morning, the Prince was to be given an ice bath. Hot water stimulated the blood too much and thinned it. Immediately after, he was to be wrapped in blankets to raise his temperature. Then he would be massaged thoroughly to promote healthy circulation. But from the day the treatment plan was put in place, William was destined to have a lonely and miserable childhood. He could not take exercise or play; this risked a tumble or a fall that might cause a severe bleed. Instead, he was to always be seated – and if he struggled, restrained by straps across his waist to keep him so. He was to avoid long journeys and even then, if the road was rough then the carriage must be stopped immediately to avoid jostling him. A special bed was also produced, a kind of raised padded box that he could not climb out of and had to be lowered into by two nursery maids. This way, he could not fall out of bed or hurt himself against a rail. When he began to walk, William would have to be accompanied at all times by an aide who held his hand and if he fell, he must be immediately massaged and swaddled again. This was William’s life from infancy until his 10th birthday. Even then, only some of Bertod’s regulations were to be relaxed. This was communicated to both of his parents separately. Victoria accepted it all willingly. She cared only for the health of her son. The Prince of Orange however protested that his son must be able to engage in some form of military life when he grew older. When he was told that this would never be possible and that William should be encouraged more in the direction of academic pursuits, his father remarked, “What use have I for an intellectual son?”.
Bertod was only just beginning his work and implementing this regime when Victoria planned to accommodate her cousin at Het Loo at the end of the summer of 1845. Yet when Queen Anna told her husband that George V was to visit Het Loo, and that Dr Bertod had already begun his work there, William II forbad the British King from being received there. This may seem unnecessarily harsh but, in many ways, William II was also looking out for the wellbeing of his daughter-in-law. He knew that Victoria was already disliked by his courtiers and that her marriage to his son was in an extremely precarious state. If it were revealed that Prince William had haemophilia, and that it was Victoria who had passed the disease onto him, the consequences for her position at the Dutch court, both as Princess of Orange and later as Queen consort of the Netherlands, could seriously damage the stability of the monarchy in the coming years. Queen Anna took advantage of widespread fever and decided that Apeldoorn had suffered an outbreak of disease, an excuse the British wouldn't question. But Victoria was told none of this and had she been made aware of her father-in-law’s reasoning; she may have taken things far better than she did. Instead, she believed the King had turned against her. All she could do was sit at Het Loo and serve as nurse maid to her son, resenting everything that had befallen her since she left England.
William II and Queen Anna, painted in 1816.
At Soestdijk, the British King and Queen were hosted by their Dutch counterparts with their usual grace and charm – both upholding the story Queen Anna had concocted as to why they could not go to Apeldoorn. She made polite conversation at dinner about George and Agnes’ recent visit to Russia, but this only served to irritate the King further who remarked gruffly, “We did not go there for a holiday”. The Dutch Queen sensed that all was not well, but George did not go into the troubles her brother had caused the British delegation during the State Visit. Instead, a concerned King William II raised a subject he regarded as a shared concern – the potato blight in Ireland. Though the resulting famine affected Ireland far worse than any other European nation, the blight itself was by no means confined to Ireland’s borders. The situation in the Netherlands almost proved to be just as serious, whilst countries such as Spain, Sweden, France and Prussia also saw outbreaks of the disease. Like Ireland, the Netherlands had experienced potato blight before. Unlike Ireland, the Dutch enjoyed a rich and varied diet and did not have the same reliance on potatoes as a cheap staple…until the 1840s. The increase in potato consumption among the Dutch poor correlates to a decline in wages and a rise in unemployment around this time. The Dutch peasantry began to supplement their diet with potatoes as these were the most affordable food source but when potato crops failed, thousands faced going hungry. By October 1845, 70% of the Dutch potato drop had been lost. To make matters worse, the Dutch rye and wheat crops failed, and the price of bread soared. Then came a terrible outbreak of “summer sickness” with malaria prevalent in coastal areas. These matters weighed heavy on the Dutch King and yet when he raised them with King George V, he was astonished to hear the reply “Yes, it is a bother isn’t it?”. Clearly the Dutch sovereign was better informed than his British counterpart.
The following morning, desperate to break free of the Palace walls, King George asked William Mansfield to go out and find him some “ordinary” clothes. Donning attire best suited to a modest middle-class clerk or teacher, the King wanted to explore the streets of Baarn (“Lest I stay here with that crashing bore of a man!” – King William II). Queen Agnes elected to stay at Soestdijk in her room. She was feeling much better thanks to the respite from a long sea voyage and wanted to resume her work on her nursing project before she returned to England. She settled herself at a desk and began making notes. Enthused by her meeting with Queen Caroline Amalie of Denmark, Queen Agnes set about formulating her vision to provide a better standard of nursing in England and how she might achieve this. Her plans were ambitious, she had no idea how they might be funded but she did know that there was only one possible approach she believed in, and it was this which she would pursue.
It was her intention to create a nurse's training school in the capital to provide a free education in general nursing. But theory would be matched with practical application. Her training school would also include a hospital wing which offered free health care to the poor who would not need a doctor’s referral and who could simply arrive, present their condition and be treated by the nursing staff. The latter part of this plan was by no means new. The Royal Free Hospital at Camden had been offering such services to poor Londoners since 1828. But the quality of the care they provided was notoriously disparate and Agnes saw that this was because there was no proper provision of training for nursing staff. In many cases, they were not even nurses to begin with and most of the treatment on offer was given by unpaid volunteers with only a very basic medical background. What Agnes was suggesting was a defined, structured, universal standard for nursing which would be rolled out from her own training school. As each intake graduated, some would be retained to act as teachers to new students whilst the rest would go off into the hospitals around England to implement better standards and train more nurses there too. Organically, things were bound to improve. Agnes’ ambition stood to revolutionise nursing in Britain and the more she worked at her plans, the more determined she became.
She called her proposed establishment "The Queen’s School for Nursing". Any girl between 18 and 25 could apply and though her education, lodgings and food would be provided for her, she must have a referee of good standing to attest to her moral character and be able to afford the cost of her uniform to enrol. These were the only requirements. Agnes envisioned an intake of 250 nurses a year who would be divided into ten classes of 25 to be taught by the best in the profession – most of whom would be headhunted from existing hospitals on the recommendation of those she had met before her departure for Russia. In the second year, ten of the best and brightest would be promoted to Matrons who would undertake to train new students. The entire school would have Agnes’ patronage, a board of trustees and a Matron General to ensure efficiency and parity. There were to be strict rules for students. No followers to be allowed, church attendance was mandatory and though they would receive a weekly wage of just 7s/6d (around £22 today), there would be financial penalties for being unpunctual or breaking curfew in the dormitories. They would be assessed not only on their practical skills and abilities but on cleanliness too and domestic duties were to be given just as much importance as medical ones. For example, as well as knowing how to clean and treat a wound, each girl must also be able to prepare simple meals for invalids. Agnes was motivated by her work, but many questions remained. Where would the school be located? What sort of building would be required? Was there any guarantee that girls would even want to enrol there? And if they did, was there any guarantee of their employment in other hospitals when they graduated, given that most hospitals relied on the services of voluntary staff to cut costs? She resolved to find an answer to each and every one of these questions and to ensure that the Queen’s School for Nursing became a reality.
Meanwhile, the King and William Mansfield were exploring the streets of Baarn – not that there was much for them to see. However, the King enjoyed the rare opportunity of wandering among a crowd without being noticed and it gave him the opportunity he had been waiting for to speak to Mansfield about Lord Morpeth’s proposals concerning Willo’s future.
“I don’t suppose the Foreign Secretary mentioned anything to you did he?”, George said airily, raising the topic as if only in passing, “About your future with us?”
Mansfield loosened his collar a little.
“He did Sir, yes”
“Ah”, George nodded, “Well that certainly makes things a little easier. Though I shall tell you Willo, I would be reluctant to lose you. I won’t stand in the way of a man’s progress. I certainly won’t deny him those chances which have been denied to me. But I shall not command you. The decision must be yours, and yours alone. If you wish to leave, that is”.
William thought for a moment, calculating his response.
“It is not that I wish to leave your service Sir”, he said calmly, “It is a matter of where I feel I can contribute something, something-“
“Something more than partnering my aunt at cards”, George laughed, “I’m not offended Willo. I’ve known you long enough now to realise that a life at court isn’t the life you want. Unfortunately…for some of us…there was never a choice in the matter…”
“But you do not resent your role Sir?”
“I did”, the King mused, running a hand through his hair and sighing, “For quite some time, I really did resent it. But now…well, it’s as you say, one would like to feel that one is contributing something”.
The two men walked on in silence for a while. Then George stopped and extended a hand to his friend.
“Good luck out there Willo”, he said with a grin, “And don’t be a stranger to us”.
And with that, the King wandered away to a market stall, leaving Mansfield alone with his thoughts for a moment. “I knew in that instance, he wrote in his memoirs many years later, “That though my friendship with His Majesty would continue, as indeed it did, he was fast outgrowing the contemporaries of his youth. He had assumed the mantle of his Crown when he was just a boy, but now he wore it proudly as a man – and as a fine, fine King”.
Notes
[1] Bertod is invented but Nasse, etc and his research/treatment plans have been essential to my research in how a haemophiliac child might have been raised in this time period. Though in the OTL Queen Victoria’s son Leopold had the disease, we know very little about his illness and how it was treated. Interestingly though, it was Lane’s experiment that saw the future Tsarevich Alexei treated with blood transfusions during the worst of his bleeds.
[2] Taken from Lane’s work in the OTL.
This is a slightly shorter update than usual as I needed to get us out of the Netherlands ahead of our return to England, and yet there were some crucial details to settle here so we couldn't just skip over George and Agnes' visit there - but I hope it'll be enjoyed nonetheless. As ever, many thanks for reading!
His sons' lines will be free, since they can't inherit it from him. Ironically that means that the Dutch royal family will be least likely to have the disease if William IV's line continues in the male line