October 4, 1836
New Orleans
Hamilton Fish supposed it was one of the advantages of such a tiny nation—and one where everything of any importance happened within a single city— that a new president could be inaugurated so soon after the election. This Andre Roman was now standing on the first balcony over the entrance to the Hôtel de l République, preparing to speak. Fish and the rest of the ambassadors were in the lobby behind, where they could hear but not be seen.
A little over three years had passed since he’d replaced Edward Douglass White, Sr., as U.S. ambassador to Louisiana. He still couldn’t help thinking of this snuffbox-sized “republic” as a farce—
three members of the Cabinet, including the Minister of War, were British officials. Yet Louisianans themselves didn’t see it that way. As far as they were concerned, this election was real and consequential, and the Radicals had won.
On the subject of radicals, Fish was standing between Charles Jeanne and Francesco Saverio Labriola, who were, respectively, the French and Italian ambassadors to Louisiana. Both of them, he knew, were grimly amused at the Radical Party calling itself “Radical.”
They finally came up with a position on slavery — “let us make the slaves more comfortable” was how Jeanne had put it yesterday. The ambassadors of Tehuantepec and Gran Colombia were nearby. Meetings like this were a chance for allies to exchange information, assuming any of them had been given any.
Across the lobby, Fish spotted UK ambassador to Louisiana George H. Rose and the ambassador from Hanover, whose name he couldn’t recall. The Spanish and Dutch ambassadors were in opposite corners, studiously ignoring each other.
Although Fish had only learned Parisian French, he was more or less able to follow Roman’s speech. The surprising thing was how little he said about slavery. He made passing mention of his plans to step up enforcement of the Black Codes, promising that “we remember the horrors brought to light not ten minutes’ walk from this place[1], and we vow never to permit such things again.”
About half the speech was about the problems in agriculture. Fish had grown up in New York City, and was no expert on this subject, but it sounded as though the Louisianans had reached the limits of how much land they could grow cotton and sugar on, and were now trying to figure out how to make the most of the land they had, which apparently would mean leaving some of the land fallow or growing other things on it to restore its fertility.
Our planters have the same problem, don’t they? Unless they can expand further… He’d thought of the Radicals as the urban party, so it surprised him to hear so much talk of rural concerns. But then, while New Orleans was a very respectable city by North American standards, it wasn’t big enough to win an election all by itself, so the Radicals couldn’t just be the party of the city.[2]
A few people back home had noticed the Radical victory. Some of them were Dead Roses who’d written to him, asking if the new government would be any more inclined to reconciliation with the U.S. (He’d had to tell them no.) Then there was his fellow New Yorker William H. Seward, party whip for the Populists in the House of Representatives. Fish wondered if he was looking for ideas. And by all accounts, the Berrien-Daggett[3] and Morton-Rankin[4] tickets were campaigning vigorously across the country, reaching out to people from all walks of life in much the same way the Radicals had done here.
No one expected the Radicals to win, but it happened. And last year in London, the Whigs did so badly that Grey had to step aside for Brougham. And the Quids nearly won the House two years ago. Does Sergeant understand the seriousness of the situation?
In the summer of 1836, with Britain’s economy still mired in the Hiemal Period, there were two great celebrations in London that changed not only British culture, but the culture of much of the world. The first of these was the June 30 celebration decreed by Parliament at the request of Queen Charlotte, to note the completion of the emancipation process and the final end of slavery in the British Empire. This was the first Emancipation Day, which the queen described as “a day of rejoicing in freedom, and praise to God for leading our nation on the path of wisdom and compassion.” Although the Jamaican assemblyman Robert Osborn, in London at the time, famously dismissed the festivities as “an extravaganza of white self-congratulation,” Emancipation Day became a major national holiday throughout the British West Indies, and (back in London) a day that would soon be co-opted by Chartists[5] and other radicals for the purpose of advocating other great reforms.
The second was the August 8 wedding of Leopold Prince of Wales to Princess Julia of Denmark. In the same way that the weddings of Napoleon II and Achille I cemented the white and gold wedding dress in the culture of France, Italy and the United States, the traditional British wedding dress—red or burgundy (madder red for preference) with white trim—has its origins in the August wedding of Prince Leopold and Princess Julia. Ironically enough, the dress was based on the national colors of Denmark…
P.G. Sherman, A Cultural History of Early Charlottean Britain
August 1, 1836
The Thames
The breeze over the river had finally picked up, blowing the smoke from the engine away from the steamboat. The greatest city in the world was up ahead. Christian wished he could take some pleasure in the sight. (The smell was another matter. With London the greatest city in the world, this stretch of the Thames was perforce the greatest sewer. No one could be expected to take pleasure in that.)
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” said Julia Louisa in Danish.
Christian shook his head. He accepted that Britain was stronger, but to stand around admiring that strength was too much.
“What’s wrong with you, Kris? I’m eighteen years old and I’m about to get married and spend the rest of my life in a foreign country, and you’re the one who’s upset.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Kris, please. We’ve had this whole trip. The wedding is a week from today. Please tell me you’re not still angry.”
“Juli, think. Would it really be better—“
“In English, please.” She switched to the other language more easily than he ever could.
“Why?”
“The servants are listening. If you’re going to raise your voice, the least you could do is let them know it’s…”
“Would - it - better - if - I - don’t - care?” He was fairly sure he had butchered his English there, but… well, that was the point. He didn’t like English. Juli looked like she was fighting the urge to correct him.
Let me try that again. “If I say — ‘Denmark is weak. Other countries do what they like with us.
Og hvad så? I don’t care. I am still a prince. I will be king one day. There are still people I command. My life is good.’ If I say this… would it be better?”
“Well, Father…” She shook her head, as if thinking better of finishing that sentence. “It does not help to be unhappy over what you can’t change. Denmark is weak. Next to Britain, next to France, we will always be weak. This marriage makes us safer.”
“Easy for you. You’re a woman. You’re…” She gave him That Look while he searched his memory for the right English word. “People
allow you to be weak. They don’t… judge you if you’re weak.”
“They judge
all women for being weak.”
This isn’t fair, he thought.
How am I supposed to win this argument if we hold it in a language I barely know?
“Maybe not all women,” Julie continued. “No one thinks Charlotte is weak. But, Kris, Prussia took more from us than Britain ever did—”
“Jeg ved! Slesvig, Holsten… I know.” He couldn’t exactly forget. They were still known to the world as Prince Christian and Princess Julia of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Beck, even though Prussia had taken all four of those places in the last war, still held them and showed no sign of willingness to return them. In contrast, Britain had only stolen ships—ships that would be obsolete by now anyway.
“It didn’t stop you from going to school there.”
“Yes. I study there. I make friends there. But always thinking a little, ‘remember what they took from you, remember what they took from you.’”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I go to school in Prussia. But I come back to Denmark. You… you said yourself—this is marriage. This is your whole life. Princess Consort of the United Kingdom. Queen one day.” He dropped back into Danish. “I’ll behave myself for the wedding. I won’t say a word against Prince Leopold, or Britain, or the alliance. But I will never stop looking for a chance to regain what we lost.”
[1] The crowd is in what IOTL would be Jackson Square. The LaLaurie mansion is less than half a mile away.
[2] Fish doesn’t know this, but Roman spent his formative years on a sugarcane plantation.
[3] David Daggett, a Connecticut lawyer and politician who has joined the Tertium Quids out of a desire to screw over black people as thoroughly as possible, and who John M. Berrien chose as his running mate in the hopes of getting more northern support.
[4] Marcus Morton, a former Massachusetts governor, running on a Populist/Liberation unity ticket with John Rankin.
[5] As IOTL, the People’s Charter hasn’t been written yet, but again as IOTL, Radicals are not satisfied with the reforms that have taken place—some of which, like the Poor Law, are making things worse.
