La Petite Struensee: The Story of a Bastard Princess

Louise Augusta. 1784. Jens Juel.

Louise Augusta. 1784. Jens Juel.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you’ll remember this face. This is Louise Augusta, daughter of queen Caroline Mathilde but not of king Christian VII. No, Louise Augusta (named for her maternal grandmother, Augusta, Princess of Wales but also for the king’s mother, queen Louise of England. Note that she was from England, but not of England. It gets confusing, I know.)

Since posting about her mother all that while ago, I keep getting people who find my blog after googling who this Louise Augusta was and I’ve mentioned her in passing before, in my post about Jens Juel and also in my post about the Danish crown jewels in which I mentioned her daughter, queen Caroline Amalie of Denmark.

But enough about posts of years past. I felt that it was time for Louise Augusta to be featured in a post of her own, and very overdue it is.

Louise Augusta, or la Petite Struensee as she was cruelly dubbed by the Danish court, because of her mother’s indiscreet affair with the royal physician, Johann Friederich Struensee, was born on the 7th of July, 1771. She was only roundabout a year old when her mother was forced to leave Denmark, and to give up her crown and children. Louise Augusta had been officially recognised by Christian as his daughter, but although no DNA test has been performed posthumously there is little doubt that Louise Augusta was not his biological child.

Louise Augusta, 1771 by H.P. Sturz. Part of the collections at Rosenborg Castle.

Louise Augusta, 1771 by H.P. Sturz. Part of the collections at Rosenborg Castle.

Louise Augusta, by W. Heuer, 1827. The Royal Library of Denmark.

Louise Augusta, by W. Heuer, 1827. The Royal Library of Denmark.

Louise Augusta and her brother, Frederik (later the VI of Denmark) were raised by the dowager queen Juliane Marie, in as formal and stilted a manner as one could expect from a royal court in the 18th century. The way they were raised was sure to have been a far cry from the free and untroubled childhood their mother famously wanted for them, and sought to implement as best she was able. Nonetheless, if any child suffered from it, it is more likely to be Frederik than Louise Augusta who grew up to never fall ill in body, but who’d inherited a smattering of the mental illnesses that had also plagued his father.

Frederik VI, probably Jens Juel.

Frederik VI, probably by Jens Juel.

Louise Augusta by all accounts grew up in much the same expectations as any other European princess of the time. Although, the source of her birth was well-known in the Danish court, and one assumes also abroad due to the nature of her mother’s disgraceful departure from the court, she was not discriminated against in her upbringining and all formal courtesy was extended to her by the court. I personally wonder whether Juliane Marie was all that fond of her, as she held an obvious hatred for Caroline Mathilde and Louise Augusta was a bastard child.

Louise Augusta and Frederik grew up close, probably by virtue of both feeling like outsiders in a court ruled by Juliane Marie and her conservative noblemen, and by virtue of their strange family history. They remained close throughout their childhood, adolence and adulthood. At one point, it is reported that Juliane Marie tried to seperate the two, by way of sending off Louise Augusta to be educated elsewhere, but Frederik, who had a famous temper, interfered and seems, trumped the dowager queen’s influence.

Both Louise Augusta and her brother grew up to feel a good deal of resentment at Juliane Marie, and this was only exacerbated as they grew old enough to learn, through court gossip, the true nature of their mother’s departure and in the case of Louise Augusta, the death of her true father. As Christian VII was, due to the nature of his mental illness, unable to parent the two, they both must have grown up feeling very much like orphans with only each other to cling to.

Princess Louise Augusta. 1780. Jens Juel.

Louise Augusta. 1780. Jens Juel.

As Louise Augusta, who was much less shy than her older brother and sweeter in temper too, grew older, she became the natural centre of the young people at court,  and the above portrait is an example of the ways she stirred up the older establishment at court. Out of France and due to the influence of Marie Antoinette the chemise a la reine had come. This style of dress was much softer and less formal than other dresses worn at court, and it was also worn without panniers (the wide hoops that hold out the dress at the hips) thought by some to be incredibly indecent. But Louise Augusta would be painted in this new style and upon the first unveiling of the portrait above, the older ladies of court, Juliane Marie amongst them nearly fainted. The shape of the princess’s legs could be spotted through the fabric of the gown! Either Juel would paint over a respectable amount of fabric to obscure this shape, or the portrait was scrapped. Louise Augusta bowed to their will and the portrait became as we know it now. I love it, personally, not least of all because of her victorious expression and proud posture.

When Louise Augusta turned 15 she had reached the marriagable age of the day for royal women, and by the urging of her brother she became engaged to the 23-year old duke Frederik Christian of Augustenborg. The two were married in 1786. Augustenborg today is about as far south you can get in Denmark before you’re in Germany, but back then the border was further south and the Northern German duchies of Schleswig and Holstein were also in Danish possession. All the same, Louise Augusta must have felt herself exiled, so far from Copenhagen, the court, where she had grown into a favourable position, and her brother, married to a man for whom she felt little.

The marriage was strategically and dynastically important, as it would merge the old line of the Oldenburgs (currently on the throne in Christian VII) and the new Augustenborg royal family. If Louise Augusta married Frederik Christian, it would solve any future issues over the throne and possibly even prevent civil war, should it have come to that.

Duke Frederik Christian, 1790s. Anton Graff. From the collections at Frederiksborg Castle.

Duke Frederik Christian, 1790s. Anton Graff. From the collections at Frederiksborg Castle.

The marriage between Louise Augusta and Frederik Christian was unevenly matched from the beginning. Louise Augusta had grown into her role as the female centre of the Copenhagen court and enjoyed such trivial pursuits as dancing and merrymaking with her friends, apparently possessing no deep interest for anything serious. Rather, she was full of joy at life and a natural extrovert, blessed with the ability to make those around her love her.

Frederik Christian by contrast was a small man and deeply interested in philosophy and pedagogy, shutting himself away to study for hours at a time, leaving his wife to amuse herself. He had ambitions to become involved in the politics of the new governmental coalition forming around his brother-in-law Frederik. Louise Augusta cared for few things less than she did for politics, although she must be said to have lived politics her whole life.

Perhaps coming to a marital compromise, the couple would summer at the duke’s castle in Augustenborg, where they invited the artists of the day, and winter in Copenhagen, where they would spend their time with the aristocratic centre of power.

by Jens Juel, 1790s. Private collection.

by Jens Juel, 1790s. Private collection.

by Jens Juel, ca. 1800. In a private collection.

When the French Revolution broke loose in 1789, Louise Augusta initally bid it welcome and as one of few aristocrats in Europe remained in sympathetic faith with the French until long into the Terror, which put her at a decidedly un-English perspective. If you’ve ever read “Desirée” by Anne-Marie Selinko you might recall a scene in which Desirée and Jean-Baptiste are travelling to Sweden to take up the Swedish throne. They are invited to dine at the king of Denmark’s palace (by then Frederik, Louise’s brother had become king) and they end up discussing the war in Europe. At the end of the discussion (which I can’t quote here because my books are all packed away) Desirée concludes that Frederik’s pre-French sentiments have less to do with politics and more to do with his anger at his English mother.

I’m not certain I agree with the viewpoint, but I find it very interesting, that Louise Augusta and Frederik should feel so betrayed by their mother’s passing they would carry it with them all their lives, basing political opinion on it.

Louise Augusta and Frederik Christian remained childless for ten years, but finally in 1796 Louise Augusta gave birth to her daughter Caroline Amalie, defiantly named for her disgraced mother. Two and four years later, Louise Augusta had sons, Christian August and Frederik Emil August. The gossips of the day attributed the fatherhood of the children to doctor Carl Ferdinand Saudacini, in a cruel play on Louise Augusta’s own paternity, but it is not known whether it is true. He had been asked to cure Louise Augusta’s infertility and though I shudder at the thought of the fertility treatmeants of the late 18th century, he certainly suceeded whether by personal involvement or through more natural causes.

Louise Augusta and duke Frederik were more attentive parents than Juliane Marie ever was to Louise and her brother. Especially Frederik offered up much of his time to their care and took personal care that their education was up to par.

Unknown artist, after the style of Jens Juel. ca 1790.

Unknown artist, after the style of Jens Juel. ca 1790.

As the years progressed, and Louise Augusta’s brother became king, the distance between the two brothers-in-law increased as they grew to disagree about many political issues, especially the question concerning the German duchies of Schleswig and Holstein. Frederik Christian forced Louise Augusta to give up her winter home in Copenhagen as Louise Augusta consequently took her brother’s side in their quarrels, even acting as his spy against her husband. In 1810 Louise Augusta began working to stop her husband in his bid to become king of Sweden (as I let slip above it later went to French general Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte) again at the urging of her brother. This was too much to take for Frederik Christian who in return sought ought to change his testament so that Louise Augusta would find her powers of the futures of their children mightily increased. Caroline Amalie remained on the side of her mother, eventually going on to become queen of Denmark (though not through a marriage with any child of her uncle, but her uncle’s cousin, later Christian VIII). Louise Augusta’s sons, however, grew apart from her. The elder, Christian August, became the key player in the Question of Schleswig-Holstein. In the words of Lord Palmerston, a contemporary English diplomat:

Only three people…have ever really understood the Schleswig-Holstein business—the Prince Consort, who is dead—a German professor, who has gone mad—and I, who have forgotten all about it.

I don’t care either, nor do I understand it so I won’t be summarising it here.

Louise Augusta in Turkish dress, by Jens Juel. 1780s.

Louise Augusta in Turkish dress, by Jens Juel. 1780s.

However, Frederik Christian’s triumph over Louise Augusta was short-lived, as he went on to die in 1814 whereafter Louise Augusta took over the running of Augustenborg as well as the education of their children. In 1820, as he reached his maturity, Christian August inherited the title of Duke and the estate at Augustenborg and ran it for his mother. Louise Augusta, who knew that her younger son would be left basically destitute due to the inheritance laws of the day, had managed to scrape enough money together to, in 1832, buy the estate of Nør for her younger son. Her daughter, as I have mentioned, was taken care of by marrying the next king of Denmark.

In her old age, Louise Augusta took up residence in the dowager estate at Augustenborg, where she kept a loud and eccentric mini-court, where both the artists of her youth and younger ones welcome.

Louise Augusta died today, the 13st of January, in 1843 and is buried at Augustenborg, far from her beloved brother and farther still from Copenhagen.

Her life story is featured in the novel Kærlighedsbarn (Love Child) by Maria Helleberg, a very good novel, indeed. It’s not published in English as far as I am able to tell, so I hope this blog post has served well instead!

by Anton Graff, 1791. Rosenborg Castle.

by Anton Graff, 1791. Rosenborg Castle.

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Remember, remember, the Fifth of November…

Elizabeth Stuart by Gerrit van Honthorst. National Portrait Gallery, London.

I was doing some reading about the Gunpowder, Treason and Plot thingie when I came across this lady. I read that she was Elizabeth Stuart, daughter of James VI of Scotland and I of England and our very own Anne of Denmark and naturally my interest was spiked.

Elizabeth was born on the 19th of August 1596, the second child of James and Anne at Falkland Palace in Fife, Scotland and was six years old when her father took the English throne.

Elizabeth in 1606, by Robert Peake the Elder. Metropolitan Museum of Art

She comes into the Gunpowder, Treason and Plot by being Guy Fawkes’ intended Catholic monarch. It was his plan to kidnap her in 1605, when she was nine, and, after assassinating her father to put her on the throne. Happily, Guy Fawkes was apprehended before he could murder her father and Elizabeth remained a princess, not to follow in her aunt’s footsteps as a reigning queen of England.
Elizabeth was married on Valentine’s Day 1613 to Frederick V, the Elector of the Palatinate in Germany. They were married at the palace of Whitehall and John Donne, the famous 17th century poet, wrote a poem to celebrate the event “Epithalamion, or Marriage Song on the Lady Elizabeth, and Count Palatine being married on St. Valentines Day.”

Frederick led the coalition of Protestant princes at Holy Roman Emperor’s court and marrying Elizabeth would have tightened his ties to his fellow protestants at the court. Despite the business-like affair of their marriage, the two were believed to be genuinely in love with each other and Frederick even created an English wing in his palace at Heidelberg to make his wife comfortable.

Elizabeth is also sometimes called The Winter Queen, the cause being her husband’s short reign as king of Bohemia. Frederick was offered the Bohemian crown in 1619 and both him and Elizabeth were crowned in November 1619. However, Ferdinand II, the Holy Roman Emperor, had a birthright to the throne and did not let them reign long. He forced the couple into exile by 1920, where Elizabeth came to be known as the Winter Queen.

In 1648 her son, Charles I, won back the Electorate of the Palatinate and after the Restoration of the English and Scottish Monarchs, it was also possible for Elizabeth to travel to England to visit her nephew, Charles II.

It is also through Elizabeth’s line the Hanoverian royal house of Britain, which ended in 1901 with Queen Victoria, is descended. Her daughter, Sophia of Hanover, had become the nearest Protestant to the English and Irish crown and under the Act of Settlement (1701) the royal crown was bestowed on her and her issue.

And this particular blog owner, will never cease to be amazed at how interconnected the royal houses of Europe really are. I hope all of my readers in England are having a great Bonfire Night!

Elizabeth as a widow, by Gerard van Honthorst. National Gallery of London.

 

 

Visiting the Gateway to America

1900s photograph of immigrants looking at Manhattan from Ellis Island

 

I’ve just been to New York City – for the first time in my life! The trip was great despite overwhelming heat and humidity which was taxing for my Scandinavian constitution, and despite Manhattan being almost too big to take in during my stay of a mere 14 days.

Being the historically inclined nerd that I am, I knew I had to visit Ellis Island, America’s once-upon-a-time gateway. The trip took most of our day, but in my opinion was well worth it. Since Ellis Island is, well, an island, you sail from Battery Park on the same ferry that takes you to the Statue of Liberty, should you be so inclined. The musem is technically free, but you pay for admission to the ferry and there is no other way of getting to the islands.

Ellis Island, for those who may not know, was where all 3rd class passengers, immigrants to the USA, must dock before being given admittance to the USA. If they made it through they would become citizens of America but this was not always a given. In any case, it is a fascinating piece of history.

Once you arrive at the Battery Park you may be overwhelmed by the size of the queue. It is huge. We were told there would be an hour wait to get on the ferry, which almost disheartened several of my family members who unlike me are not that interested in history, but once we actually got in the queue it only took about half an hour. You’re in a line overlooking the New York harbour and you’ve got a view of Lady Liberty and the small islands, so it isn’t that bad, in my opinion. Just don’t be an idiot and forget sunscreen like yours truly.

There is an inside airport style security check and once you’re through, you get on the ferry. They run every 15 minutes and there are several so don’t worry about missing one. Your ticket is good for the whole day, so you don’t have to worry about rushing through the museum to reach a ferry back. We didn’t get them online because we didn’t have a printer but they have some sort of time/queue-saving feature if you do that which could be worth looking into if you’re not up for queueing. I’m sure it could be much worse than 30 minutes.

This statue commemorates the unknown millions who perished upon the sea, on commercial and civilian vessels, since the inception of the USA.

 

As you can see we had great weather for the ferry trip. Again, remember to wear sunscreen. I had a mean sunburn by the time we went home, mostly from sitting on the ferry deck on the trip out. The ferry docks at Liberty Island where you can choose to get off, but we stayed on the boat and went from there to Ellis Island.

The ferry docks by the main entrance to the Ellis Island Immigration Museum. It’s a peculiar red and white building, and to me it doesn’t look very austere and foreboding, but I imagine that 3rd class immigrants docking at the same site would experience the sight very differently from me. Of course, my future life doesn’t hinge on whether or not I make it through the building, about which, more later.

Photo from http://www.ellisisland.org/photoalbums/ellis_island_album212.asp as I didn’t take any of the outside of the building.

The entrance hall is very big and at first sight rather confusing. You’ll be offered audio guides which are well worth accepting. Back in the day this hall was both the entrance and exit hall for the immigrants arriving from overseas and hopefully, after they were cleared for entry, for a short ferry ride to the land of their dreams. The large hall is divided in two by a display of old suitcases. A guide told me the entrance hall had been laid out a bit like a ship, but I didn’t see it. On the other side of the display is a chronological exhibition called Journeys: The Peopling of America. This exhibition detailed the reasons why people left home and what happened once they arrived starting with the religious colonies and tying the immigrant history in to the immigrant present of the USA. For those of us who paid attention in history class there was little new to be found and I mostly spent my time “Scandinavia-spotting” that is looking for mentions of my countrymen who left for America. There were a couple mentions of Danish mormons but mostly it was the Swedes who left for America.

The exhibit also spoke about the displacement of the Native Americans in the wake of the European arrival. I snapped this picture of Quanah Parker, the last free Comanche chief, and one of his wives after his surrender. I was especially delighted to see this because only a few days before the visit I finished a book about Quanah’s mother, Cynthia Ann Parker, or Naduah as she was known among the Comanche. Please excuse the horrible quality of the photo.

The exhibition also had these little booths you could lean into. Once you did an audiotrack would play that only you could hear if you leaned in. These were all from diaries and notebooks and speeches and letters written by immigrants, or about immigrants from different periods in time. There was an excerpt from a Puritan woman’s account of crossing the Atlantic while “big with child”, a freed slave’s account of his time spent on the slaveship that brought him to America, an Indian chief’s exasperated account of his people being beat, an Irish child’s story of arriving as an indentured servant, an excerpt from an anti-Chinese and a pro-Chinese immigration speech and so on. This was by far the most interesting aspect of the Journeys: The Peopling of America exhibit because it was so personal. Once we were through this exhibit we went upstairs to the Ellis Island-specific exhibits.

The upstairs hall. My photo does not do it justice. It was so beautiful and I can’t even imagine the relief with which the immigrants must have received this sight.

 

The upstairs is mainly a big hall. When Ellis Island was in use, it was the waiting room which the immigrants would be ushered into upon arrival. Here they would wait for quick medical checks and hopefully they would be ushered through quickly. If you were unhealthy or deemed unfit for entry for other reasons, you might suffer detention on Ellis Island or even be sent home.

The Great Hall as it looked in 1907, courtesy of the National Parks Service. http://www.ellisisland.org/photoalbums/ellis_island_then.asp

 

As you can see above the waiting immigrants would be waiting in long queues until they finally could go up to the clerks at the front of the hall. The clerks would perform brief medical checks, like checking their eyes, whether they had any handicaps and for visible signs of mental illness. If you were suspected of having, say, a mental illness you would be marked with chalk on your clothes and brought into an adjacent, smaller room where you would be expected to assemble a puzzle so the clerks could determine whether you were mentally ill or not. If you had an eye illness that was feared, you might be detained or even sent back to where you came from.

Most of all, the early 20th century state wanted to make sure the immigrant in question would not become a burden of the state. You must be able to provide for yourself and not have to rely on charity for your keep. The most haunting story I heard was of an Italian woman who had arrived with her children and grandchildren, but because of an illness, had been sent back to Italy while the rest of the family was given admittance into the country. Her granddaughter, by the time she told this story (it was an audio-recording) was an old woman who was still torn up by the memory.

Clerks would also ask immigrants to read from a card in their native language, to make sure they were literate, or they would ask them how much money they had, to make sure they would not need to rely on charity to make their way in America. One woman, arriving from Hungary, explained how her mother, a woman in her 30s with several children, had been taken in to a small room and with her daughter acting as the translator, had been asked to put together 2 and 2. The clerk wanted to be certain she would not need help to maange her household. The woman explains how her mother, a housewife and mother of many years, had stared at the clerk in disbelief and then asked her daughter: “He asks me this, whether I know what 2 + 2 is?”

Ellis Island in the early 20th century.

On either side of the Great Hall there is a series of small rooms. In the one end, they lead you through the small rooms that were used for more private examinations, medical and otherwise. They lead you through all the eventualities that might happen to you at Ellis Island as an immigrant. Maybe you coasted right through and were able to meet up with your loved ones at the Kissing Gate downstairs. Maybe you were detained because of an illness, or maybe you had to pass tests designed to determine mental illnesses. Maybe you would be sent to the hospital. Maybe you would be sent back.

Ellis Island had everything. It had dining rooms, and one was kosher for the many Jewish immigrants. It had a hospital with children’s wards, maternity wards, mental illness wards, surgical wards. It employed several thousand people at its most busy and millions of immigrants came through.

This exhibition ended in the last stops for immigrants at Ellis Island. There was money to be exchanged. I indulged in a little Scandinavia-spotting with my sisters and we found these items.

That’s a Danish note from 1918. Today you would need six of these to buy a dollar, but I wonder what the exchange rate was like back then?

There was a cafe after you got through the interview rooms. At one point so many Scandinavian immigrants went through that the middle column is in Danish (possibly Swedish), flanked by Italian and German.

 

This 1913 Bible is in Danish and was presented to Danish immigrants by the American Bible Society. They distributed religious books in 53 different languages to the immigrants arriving at Ellis Island. You can’t see it, but the writing on the cover is in Danish which had me super excited. There’s nothing like seeing a little bit of your home in a faraway place!

 

There were many, many, many different religious societies in America at the time, and they all extended charity towards those of a similar religious persuasion when they arrived at Ellis Island. Jewish charities would sponsor Hebrew and Yiddish religious texts to the Eastern-European Jews when they arrived, and I believe it was also with the help of wealthy Jewish New Yorkers, Ellis Island had a kosher kitchen installed.. Mormon missionaries would sponsor Christmas gifts for Mormon converts. Catholic churches would collect clothes from their members and give them to the Catholic immigrants. With the state at this point very unwilling to provide charity for its citizens, the religous communities took it upon themselves to help where they could.

The grown woman was a “Picture Bride”, that is she arrived, single, at Ellis Island to be married upon arrival. I love the picture because of the JOY (yes, that is all-caps) on their faces. She doesn’t seem apprehensive or scared about her future, even if she doesn’t know her husband. She’s just happy about beginning a new life!

 

On one ship, over 1000 of these picture brides had taken passage. I took this picture because of their fabulous hats. Just because you’re in third class, doesn’t mean you can’t go all out.

 

Since single women were not allowed entry into America without a male relative, women who arrived as picture brides, would often be married on Ellis Island and then leave with their American husbands.

This 1922 photograph captures just such a wedding ceremony. It seems there is some apprehension here, at least on the part of the bride!

 

On the other side of the Great Hall there is another exhibtion. This one deals with the reactions both in in the US and overseas to the mass immigration that took place during Ellis Island’s years of operation. This was really interesting because it showed not only what happened to immigrants before and after immigration, but also official and societal reactions to their arrival, whether good or bad.

Commercial or propaganda?

 

My sister spotted some Danish passports. For all that it was mainly Swedes who left Scandinavia, we found more proof of Danish immigrants at Ellis Island.

 

Commercials advertising Minnesota in, you guessed it, Danish. (Also, Swedish, German and English). This would eventually be where most of the Scandinavian immigrants ended up so I guess they were effective.

 

Ah yes, immigration wasn’t all fun and games. This, of course, was in the good old days when you could be frank about hating people who weren’t exactly like you.

 

This extremely crass drawing, complete with every anti-semitic stereotype you can find, likens the Eastern-European Jewish mass immigration the US to the Exodus when Moses led the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt. 

 

The good old days which weren’t so good if you weren’t white and rich.

I’m taking a break from the racist responses to immigration but believe me, I have more proof. And it ain’t pretty.

A Danish festival in Minnesota, 1926. Can you spot the flag?

 

 

 

Schools would hold classes at night for newly arrived immigrants, where they could learn English and American culture. Which brother here is fresh of the boat and which brother has been in America for a while?

 

This exhibition had much, much more to see. There was so many adverts for transatlantic cruises I couldn’t distinguish one from the other, there were walls covered in passports, and photographs taken in the homes of immigrants, as well as the many responses, good and bad, to their arrival. There was proof of people who flourished and people who, to put it mildly, didn’t. It was a really interesting testament to the immigrants who arrived during these years and probably my favourite part of all of Ellis Island.

There was also a nice referal to Angel Island, located in San Fransisco. This was where the Asian immigrants would arrive, and it served much the same function as Ellis Island did to the European immigrants in New York. If I’m ever in San Fransisco (I live in hope) I really want to visit!

Japanese women arrive at Angel Island sometime during the 1920s or 30s (guessing by the clothes the men are wearing).

 

Korean women in traditional dress at Angel Island.

Sorry about the reflection!

 

The vast majority of immigrants who came through Angel Island were Chinese. Other nationalities were processed quickly but it was common for the Chinese immigrants to be detained for weeks, if not months, before allowing them admission to the US. The Chinese were also the first specific nationality to be targeted by racist laws concerning their admission into the US by the US government.

That was my visit to Ellis Island! I’ve got a few more NYC centric posts planned. In the meantime, enjoy this picture I took over Iceland, with the sun rising, on my way home!

 

 

Vintage Cyclists from Copenhagen

I was looking through the lovely Copenhagen Cycle Chic blog because of a wee bout of homelessness. I found this post of vintage Copenhagen cyclists that I simply had to share. I love their amusement at the camera.

Bicycles have been a fixture of Copenhagen life since their invention in the 1900s.

Another anecdote from the life of Sara E: my grandfather used to cycle back and forth between the country of south Zealand (Sydsjælland) and North of Copenhagen as part of the Danish resistance movement.

Original post can be found here. 

Concerning Government

I'll stop posting the Coat of Arms someday, but today is not that day.

I run this here blog, which focuses largely on royalty, royal life and other things connected to royal life in Denmark.

Wait, does that mean I’m a monarchist? I hope I don’t contradict myself when I say no, no, no. I’m interested in the history of monarchy and especially in the history of people affected by monarchy and double especially by the women marrying into the next-highest post in the land. I believe that to form an image of these women, especially the ones I some day fantasize writing about (we can all dream, eh) it is immensely useful to understand their time and the mode of life they married into.

To understand, or to begin to understand, women like Caroline Mathilde, Leonora Christina, Sophie Magdalene and many, many more one must form an overview of the symbols they surrounded themselves by, the politics their husbands defined (or helped to define), the bad times and the good times they lived through, the religion they practised.

There are periods of time that interest me more than others. I’m not particularly interested in the Middle Ages when it comes to the monarchy. I’m in love with the Northern Renaissance and the Reformation. I love the 18th century queens, if for nothing else, then their fashion. Yes, my love for history was kindled by historical fashion. I’ll write about these things, because, well, I like doing so.

But the modern state of Danish (now constitutional) monarchy holds little interest to me. I’ll watch a good wedding or baptism, because of the pretty, pretty jewels and clothes, but I would never, ever want them to be any more than figureheads. I’m not really conflicted about their livestyle being largely supported by taxes, I understand the historical basis of it and I think it would be hard to change. In any case, I like having a monarchy because they remind me of the long line of monarchs going back in history and I like being reminded of the ways in which country and culture was shaped. I’ll take democracy over monarchy as a basis for government any day of the week, though.

The Crown Jewels: The Emeralds

The Danish crown jewels consist of four sets of jewels. Diadem, necklace, earrings. I’ll post them over the next couple of days, beginning today with the emerald set.

The history of the crown jewels begins with Queen Sophie Magdalene, wife of Christian VI. It was her decision that these jewels should always belong to the Danish Queen, and be inherited by no one person alone.

A close up of the tiara

“There are, in this royal house, so few jewels and even fewer crown jewels.”

As fashion changed, so did the queens who wore them change these jewels and their current shape was determined by Caroline Amalie, wife of Christian VIII. The pieces can be taken apart and combined in several different ways.

Traditionally, the jewels have never left Denmark, and the Queen leaves them at home when she goes on state visits abroad. Officially, they belong to the state and are made available to the queen at galas etc.

The Danish crown jewels are the only in the world that are made available for public viewing, usually at Rosenborg Castle, when the queen is not making use of them.

The full emerald set.

Sophie Magdalene of Brandeburg Kulmbach

Sophie Magdalene is also said to have refused to wear the queen’s crown as her husband’s father had crowned his noble mistress, Anna Sophie Reventlow, with it. She did not wish that a crown that had been “sullied” by a noblewoman should touch her royal head and had it melted down and reshaped. More on the crown regalia will follow later.

Sophie Magdalene

Sophie Magdalene and her husband, Christian VI, were devout pietists and banned music, dancing, the theatre and made it punishable to not attend church on sundays. When their son came to the throne, he promptly overturned all of these laws.

“Had I but two heads, I would gladly put one at his disposal.”

Christina of Denmark, Duchess of Milan

The story goes that when Henry VIII of England went a-searching for a new wife, he was told of a beautiful widow, the daughter of a Danish king and a relation of the Holy Roman Emperors. He asked for her hand. Christina, who had been widowed while virtually still a child in 1534, was at sixteen years old in no rush to be re-married and told the English ambassador that if only she had two heads at her disposal, Henry could have the other.

As history attests they were not married. The portrait above, painted by Hans Holbein. had been sent to the English court and to this day hangs in National Portrait Gallery in London, as yet another reminder of the links between the Danish and the English thrones.

Christina, or Christine as we Danes know her, is a fascinating example of the Renaissance princess.

Christina was born in 1521 to Elizabeth of Austria (sometimes called Isabella in English sources) and Christian II of Denmark and Norway. Elizabeth, Christina’s mother,  was born an Archduchess of Austria and an Infanta of Castile and Aragonia, the daughter of Philip I and Joanna of Castile. When she was fourteen Elizabeth travelled to the still Medieval North, to marry Christian, 20 years her elder, and the lover of a common girl, Dyveke Sigbritsdaughter. With Christian Elizabeth had 3 children, Hans, Dorothea and Christina.

Christian II of Denmark

 

In the 1510s and 20s Denmark was very much still a Medieval realm with a strong nobility and a culture of chivalry. Christian II was disliked by his noblemen and the nobility actively fought against his reforms. When Dyveke, Christian’s mistress suddenly died of what some suspected was poison either supplied by Elizabeth’s Dutch family or the Danish nobility trying to break the king. After Dyveke’s death, Elizabeth had three children in about as many years.

Meanwhile, Christian lost power and favour both with his noblemen and with his wife’s powerful family. Among other things he was responsible for the Bloodbath in Stockholm, where he executed noblemen and clergy after having promised them general amnesty.

Finally, on the 13th of April 1523  the king, the queen and their children fled to the Netherlands.  Elizabeth was promised that she could peacefully return, without the king, mind, by the new king, Christian’s German uncle Frederick I.  Elizabeth beautifully declared that “ubi rex meus, ibi regna mea” or “where my king is, there is my kingdom.” In 1524 Elizabeth died, 24 years old. Her 3 children was sent to their aunt, Queen Mary of Hungary, Governess of the Netherlands to be raised. Christian II failed in every attempt to regain his throne and lived out his life under house arrest in Sønderborg Castle.

Elizabeth of Austria

On the 4th of May, Christina was married to the much older Italian duke Frans 2. Sforza of Milan. Christina was only 14 years old when she was widowed in 1435.  With no children to keep her in Milan, and probably without much support from Sforza’s relatives to govern Milan, Christina returned to live with her aunt. By all accounts Christina was quite the favourite of her aunt.

In 1532, Christina’s older brother died leaving Dorothea, Christina’s older sister, the heir to the Danish throne. The Habsburgian family married Dorothea to Frederick II, Elector of Palatine, in the belief that he would suceed in claiming the throne. He tried, but did not suceed and he and Dorothea died without heirs.

Dorothea, Electress of Palatine by Michael Coxcie

 

Dorothea’s marriage left Christina alone in the Netherlands. While widows generally held more freedom than the average married woman in Renaissance times, Christina had been so young at the time of her husband’s death and having returned to her powerful relatives meant that she could not remain unmarried forever. Finally, in 1541, she married Francis I of Lorraine. In a twist of fate, Francis had previously been engaged to Anne of Cleves who married Henry VIII when Christina declined to.

The couple had 3 children, Charles, Renata and Dorothea who, when Christina’s sister Dorothea had no children, became the next claimants to the Danish throne. Francis valued Christina’s political advice greatly. It is probably no coincidence that a girl growing up at a female regent’s court should learn a thing or two about politics.

Sadly, Francis died only 4 years after Christina married him with Dorothea, their youngest child, still an infant. This time Christina stayed in Lorraine as regent until her son Charles would be old enough to reign on his own.

When France invaded Lorraine in 1552, Christina either didn’t have an army or the time to assemble one, and she was forced to pack up her things and her children and flee back to Mary’s court. Here she stayed through to her aunt’s death in 1558, and having worked to be appointed the next regent and governor, she was so angry with the appointment of Margaret of Parma, that mobilised an army and returned to take back Lorraine.

Mary, Queen of Hungary, Regent of the Netherlands

Margaret, Duchess consort of Florence, Duchess consort of Parma, Governor of Habsburg Netherlands

 

Until her son, Charles came of age, Christina served as his regent, and when he did come of age, she continued as his advisor and acted as regent when he was absent. It was also at this time she began styling herself the rightful Queen of Denmark, Norway and Sweden. In the 1550s and 60s she began working towards actually gaining the throne, nevermind that her sister was not yet dead, she would have it for her son.

At this time, her father’s uncle Frederick I had been replaced by first his son, and then his grandson, Frederick II of Denmark and Norway. These three kings were the first Oldenburg kings of Denmark, the dynasty that would continue to reign Denmark until the late 19th century. In theory, Christina did have a claim to the Danish throne, especially as Frederick II resisted marriage for much, much longer than normal at the time. Should he die without heirs, her son would be a contestor for the throne, even if her branch of the family had been beaten back by the new rulers time and time again. And if that wouldn’t work, she had a daughter perfectly suitable for the post of Queen.

Both Christina’s plans to put her son on the throne, and do away with Frederick II, and her plans to marry Renata to him came to nothing. Frederick II would have nothing to do with marriage, and did in fact manage to put it off until he was 38 in 1574, when he married Sophie of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, but what changed his mind and how that came about will be the subject of another post.

The news of Frederick’s marriage to a, in all likelihood, fertile and strong young queen who would hardly fail to provide him with an heir, was said to send Christina into a day-long rage. In 1578 she left her son to his duchy, and went to Tortona in Italy, which had been given to her by her first husband. Here she styled herself Madame of Tortona and lived out the rest of her days.

Christina of Denmark, Milan and Lorraine died in 1580, at the age of 59. In a peculiar twist of fate the current Danish, Swedish and Norwegian royalty are descended from her daughter, Renata and her husband William V of Bavaria, so in  a way Christina’s wish to see her family back on the Scandinavian thrones has been fulfilled.

 

Christina of Denmark, 1533.

Renata of Lorraine with her husband William of Bavaria

Charles III the Great of Lorraine