Book news: A Danish royal book in English

This is not a commercial stunt, but as books on Scandinavian monarchies in English are a rare thing I thought some of my readers might be interested in knowing that a book on the Danish monarchy, namly Amalienborg by Thomas Larsen, Jørgen Larsen and Bjarke Ørsted, has now been published in a smaller, abridged English version. While some of the material from the original book has been left out, the new version includes a new interview with Crown Princess Mary. The book is published by Gyldendal of Copenhagen.

The best royal books of 2013

I did not have much time for writing book reviews on my blog in the past year, but 2013 saw the publication of several interesting works, so I thought I should at least give a brief survey of some of the best royal books of 2013 (in no particular order).

1. Jonas Nordin, Versailles: Slottet, parken, livet
Versailles, the ultimate royal palace, is done more than justice by the Swedish historian Jonas Nordin in his well-researched, insightful and readable account of the palace, the park and life at the French court. While most of the literature on Versailles focuses on the age of Louis XIV, Nordin takes the story through the reigns of Louis XV and Louis XVI, making this one of the most complete histories of Versailles.

2. Philip Murphy, Monarchy and the End of Empire: The House of Windsor, the British Government, and the Post-war Commonwealth
While the accession of Queen Elizabeth II of Britain 62 years ago was hailed by some as the dawn of a new Elizabethan age, the main link between Elizabeth I and Elizabeth II proved to be that while the foundations for the British Empire were laid during Elizabeth I, the Empire came to an end during Elizabeth II. Taking up Peter Hennessy’s and the late Ben Pimlott’s challenge to historians to explore the links between monarchy and politics, Professor Murphy shows how the British Empire has morphed into a Commonwealth of Nations and what has been the role of Elizabeth II and the monarchy in this process. This volume will take its place among the handful of the most important books on the reign of Elizabeth II written in her lifetime.

3. Jes Fabricius Møller, Dynastiet Glücksborg: En danmarkshistorie
While there is no dearth of Danish royal books there has until now been no book covering the history of the reign of the Glücksburg dynasty since it came to the Danish throne in 1863. The historian Jes Fabricius Møller puts this right by what may be called a “political history” of the Danish monarchy since 1863, where he charts the monarchy’s interaction with politics, the public and the media. Unlike many royal books this one approaches the royal family in an analytical rather than anecdotal manner. Yet it does so in an engaging way, so that the result is rewarding reading for general readers as well as for fellow historians.

4. Elena Woodacre, The Queens Regnant of Navarre: Succession, Politics, and Partnership, 1274-1512
While the Kingdom of Navarre is largely forgotten today, it commanded a strategically important position in the Pyrenean region and is also of interest as the kingdom where reigning queens first ceased being an anomaly. Between 1274 and 1512, when the major part of the realm was conquered by Castile, there were five queens regnant (a sixth queen ruled the rump kingdom later in the sixteenth century). In her ground-breaking volume, the historian Elena Woodacre investigates the challenges faced by these five female rulers and their way of governing, including the various modes of power-sharing with their husbands. As such this is a book which ought to be of interest to anyone interested in the issue of female rule in early modern Europe.

5. Poul Grinder-Hansen, Frederik 2.: Danmarks renæssancekonge King Frederik II, who reigned over the Dano-Norwegian realm between 1559 and 1577, has to a great extent been overshadowed by his popular, long-reigning son Christian IV and often been portrayed in a less than flattering manner. In this first biography of Frederik II, the historian Poul Grinder-Hansen sums up recent decades’ re-evaluation of Frederik II, showing how his policies were arguably far more successful than those of his son and demonstrating the cultural role played by Denmark-Norway’s first true renaissance monarch.

New books: The wit and wisdom of Margrethe II

The Queen of Denmark is known for her wonderful ability to use the Danish language to formulate striking sentences and for her sharp powers of observation. Thus one can only applaud that the author Jens Andersen has now followed up his very interesting biography of Queen Margrethe with a collection of memorable queenly quotes.
Om man så må sige – 350 Dronning Margrethe-citater, published by Lindhardt & Ringhof, is arranged alphabetically, ranging from “abdikation” to “året” (the year) and covering a vast field of topics on the way from A to Å.
I am not sure if an alphabetical order is the best way of arranging such a book; it might perhaps have been more interesting if related topics had been grouped together. As it is, one will for instance find a quote about the Order of the Elephant under E for “Elefantordenen”, while a quote about orders in general is found under “O” for “ordensvæsen”.
The quotes are taken from the Queen’s speeches and from Andersen’s interviews with her for her biography, but primarily from the many, many interviews Queen Margrethe has given to newspapers, magazines, television and books. The oldest are from 1966, the newest very recent.
Occasionally one might have wished for other quotes to have been selected. For instance, there are two quotes about “ungdommen” (young people), both of them dating from 1975, when the Queen herself was fairly young. One supposes her views on that topic may have developed since then. On a couple of occasions I could also think of better Queen Margrethe quotes than those chosen for this book.
Queen Margrethe is interesting, intelligent and witty, and knows how to utilise the Danish language (only one utterance is quoted in another language than Danish). Thus this is a book full of pearls. Just a few examples will be enough:
“We do not have that much to moan about when one thinks of what people did not moan about before”.
“When one loves one gets more to lose”.
“I do not think one should chase the fashions of the day, concerning neither sweaters nor opinions”.
“Generalisations must be broken down on the spot”.
“One would not die from my cooking, but I am not sure one would survive my driving”.
“One may well use one’s head even though one is in love. Someone has said that one cannot prevent lightening from striking – but one may prevent the whole town from burning down”.
“It is not possible to develop into a complete human being if one must live in a room with only three walls”.
“The monarchy is an anachronism if one decides that it should be one”.
“When people say that I may not speak, they forget that I may well think. I may think what I want, like everyone else. I shall just refrain from saying everything I think. That might be something many people should do once in a while”.

New books: To dress a queen

What Queen Margrethe II of Denmark wears is a something of a paradox. On the one hand she is known to repeat the same outfit with short intervals (a blue hat and coat made for her 70th birthday were for instance used for a royal christening and a royal wedding only two weeks apart, while a green dress was worn for two of her jubilee parties last month), which may give the impression that she does not give much thought to what she wears. On the other hand she is also known to turn up at major events in dresses which could almost be described as costumes, which gives the impression that she is very conscious of what she wears and how it is all part of the magnificent performance that is the monarchy of Margrethe II.
The answers to such riddles are to be found in the new book Dronningens kjoler, published by Gyldendal in January, which has been put together for Queen Margrethe’s fortieth jubilee as monarch by Katia Johansen, since 1980 curator of textiles at the Royal Collections, in close cooperation with the Queen herself. Johansen explains that she, in her work, has often longed for contemporary sources to how the Danish monarchs dressed and this book is her way of making sure that her successors in a distant future will not have to guess why Margrethe II dressed as she did. The main audience of the book is thus not present readers, but the future.
In an introductory interview the Queen talks about such topics as her “philosophy of dressing”, what clothes mean to her and her own involvement in the design of her dresses. The crucial question is perhaps if the way she dresses is part of some sort of personal and professional scenography. To this Queen Margrethe answers, somewhat ungrammatically: “It is well possible that I see myself at some particularly great events, that it would look good with such a dress. I probably do that more as I have eventually become older and more shameless!”
Most of the book is chronologically divided into three parts – Princess, Heiress to the Throne and Queen – followed by gala dresses and dressing up and a short epilogue on the clothes’ preservation. Each of the chronological chapters begin with a summary of major fashion trends of the various decades, and one cannot help notice that this becomes less and less relevant as the years progress.
While the Margrethe of the sixties and seventies wore clothes which fit well in with the fashion of the day, Queen Margrethe of today is far from trendy. However, this does far from mean that Queen Margrethe now does not dress the part. Rather one becomes aware of how the Queen’s style has become ever more individualistic with the passing of time.
The book is lavishly illustrated and throughout the Queen herself comments on the clothes – and sometimes of other things, such as the poor entertainment and food offered by the President of Greece during his recent state visit to Denmark – and Johansen fills in what the curator has to add. All sorts of clothes are included, from simple summer dresses to grand dresses for major state events.
I suspect that I am not alone in finding the latter more interesting than the former, as it is when dressed up to the nines that the Queen and the amateur scenographer merge into a higher unit. The prime example of this is perhaps the dress first worn by Queen Margrethe for the 400th anniversary of Rosenborg Palace in 2006, which was in itself almost a renaissance costume (the fabric was originally a sari found among Queen Ingrid’s belongings after her death, the Queen explains).
The book is also an introduction to the designers who have made the Queen’s dresses, among whom the late Jørgen Bender stands out (Queen Margrethe herself is sometimes involved in the design). It is only rarely that the Queen does not remember an outfit; mostly she will explain how and why it came about and relate some memories attached to it. Sometimes the fate of the dress is also recorded – some end up in the Royal Collections, some are still in use, some are dramatically altered, some are in storage, some have been given away and some have been thrown away when worn out. Others may be expected to reappear, such as the rather dramatic dress and coat worn for Prince Joachim’s first wedding and for Thomas Kluge’s imposing portrait, which the Queen hints will become her “uniform” for the New Year receptions from next year on.
What I would perhaps have wanted something more about is accessories and the Queen’s thoughts about this. It is for instance quite obvious that Queen Margrethe, like her mother, is very conscious about her choice of jewellery. Of course it was no coincidence that she on 15 January this year wore a small horseshoe-shaped ruby brooch; indeed she wore that brooch when she was proclaimed Queen on 15 January 1972 and had chosen it then as it was given to her by her father on 5 June 1953, the day she became Heiress to the Throne.
The author occasionally says something about the jewels (those interested in the history of royal jewels will also be able to find some interesting pieces of information, such as a very interesting provenance which family tradition ascribes to her turquoise tiara), but there is little about the “philosophy” of their wearing.
One must also regret that the book tends to make a mess of names and dates. The name of the Crown Prince of Norway is spelt in three different ways, mostly incorrect; the name of the current King of Sweden is sometimes spelt Carl Gustaf, sometimes Carl Gustav, while his mother is erroneously called “Sibylle” and so on, while the dates and years for several events mentioned are unfortunately wrong, which is regrettable considering the author’s express wish that this book should be a historical record for posterity.
It seems a safe guess to say that, when long gone, Margrethe II will stand out as one of the most interesting characters in the long line of Danish monarchs. The Royal Collections curators of the 25th century will surely be immensely grateful to their predecessor Katia Johansen for having sat down with Queen Margrethe to record her words on how she dressed and why. Furthermore, Dronningens kjoler will, together with Thyge Christian Fønss’s recent book on the portraits of the Queen, serve as indispensible contemporary guides to the image of Margrethe II and its perception.

New books: The iconography of Margrethe II

Denmark is blessed with a monarch who is passionate about the arts, and portraiture is an art form which has had a revival during her reign, the art historian Thyge Christian Fønss points out in his interesting new book Portrætter af en dronning – Margrethe den [sic] II i portrætkunsten 1972-2012, published in October on the occasion of her jubilee, which was celebrated in the usual grand style last weekend.
The author has chosen to include painted portraits, tapestries and busts, but only those for which the Queen has sat and/or which have been acquired by the monarch herself or by public institutions. He states his reasons for excluding photography, caricature and other art forms, but does not explained why miniature paintings are not included (the “family orders” worn by Queen Margrethe’s daughters-in-law are examples of the now rather rare technique of miniature painting). Some of the portraits show the Queen together with the Prince Consort, one shows her in a group and another is more a history painting than a portrait, but such distinctions are not made here.
While some reigns are almost defined by the works of one artist – such as the reign of Henry VIII by Hans Holbein – or at least strongly identified with one artist – such as Christian IX with Laurits Tuxen or Carl XIV Johan with Fredric Westin – no artist has stood out as The Court Painter of Margrethe II. The individual with the greatest influence on the iconography of Margrethe II is probably the late photographer Rigmor Mydtskov.
The twenty or so portraits of Queen Margrethe are thus rather diverse in style. However, there are some painters who have been commissioned to paint the Queen on several occasions, among them Preben Hornung and Niels Strøbek – the latter’s fourth portrait was unveiled at the Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Palace on the occasion of the jubilee. There are some famous international names among the artists – Pietro Annigoni and Andy Warhol stand out – but the majority are Danes, of various generations, most of them male.
Following an introduction about the history of royal portraits, which may be enlightening to many, the author treats each portrait chronologically. There are large reproductions of the artworks and often also of details. Some are also shown in the milieu where they hang and earlier or alternative sketches for some of them are also included. Fønss analyses the composition of the portrait, the references it contains and frequently he also gives the readers the background history of each portrait and some glimpses of the process leading to the picture’s completion. The author has obviously benefited from the assistance offered him by the artists (or their heirs).
Fønss has done a good job in identifying other artworks of relevance to the portraits he discusses and the historical references they contain. For instance he points out how the Queen’s pose in Thomas Kluge’s second portrait of her is obviously inspired by that of Christian II’s daughter Christina, Duchess of Milan, in Holbein’s portrait of her, painted when she was considered as a possible fourth wife for Henry VIII of England.
Each portrait is thus given a thorough consideration in a chapter of its own, but the book might have benefited from the portraits being seen more in the context of each other. This might perhaps have been solved by including a summarising chapter towards the end, where the author could also have made some concluding remarks about the development of royal portraiture in Denmark through the last four decades. Nevertheless he makes the reader fully aware of the fact that the reign of Margrethe II has been a golden age for portraiture, particularly considering the low standing of this genre in Denmark forty years ago, and that the many portraits of the Queen have been hugely significant for the positive development in this regard.
The author appears quite diplomatic in that he very rarely has anything remotely critical to say about any of the portraits, although it must be admitted that a few of them are not very good. But it seems to me that sometimes, between the lines, one may just sense that some of the portraits are more the author’s cup of tea than others.
Given the absence of critical remarks about the portraits of Queen Margrethe it is altogether more notable that Fønss is generally dismissive of the portraits of other current monarchs. His rather negative view of Lucian Freud’s famous portrait of Elizabeth II comes as something of a surprise, while Håkon Gullvåg’s portraits of the King and Queen of Norway are written off with some remarks about their not being well-received by a tabloid newspaper, which is certainly a very un-nuanced version of the story. And should contemporary art necessarily be uncontroversial?
I am also not sure I agree entirely with Fønss when he states that “English [sic] royal portraiture of the twentieth century has been extraordinarily retrospective and unoriginal”. One may in my opinion well argue that some of the portraits of Elizabeth II or the state portraits of King Harald V and Queen Sonja are more artistically daring than the portraits of Margrethe II, most of which could be described as rather conventional paintings which have not really moved artistic boundaries within the genre.
The book, which is in large format, is beautifully produced, but unfortunately it has been very badly proof-read. As a result there are many grammatical errors, particularly when it comes to punctuation, capitalisation, words being split into two and the difference between “hans/hendes” and “sin”. The author generally writes “England” and “English” where “Britain” and “British” would have been correct, the name of Frederik VIII’s consort is mistakenly given as “Louisa” (she was born Princess Lovisa of Sweden and of Norway and became Queen Louise of Denmark, but she never used the name Louisa), Lucian Freud has become “Lucien Freud” etc.
One also wonders why the author refers to King Charles I of England, Scotland and Ireland as a parvenu, given that he belonged to a dynasty which had been reigning for some 300 years at the time. The pearl tiara which Queen Margrethe wears in several portraits is erroneously said to have been a wedding present to “Louisa” in 1869, although primary sources show clearly that it was in the possession of her mother at the time of the latter’s death in 1871 (consequently, Louise must have inherited it after her mother’s death).
While Mikael Melbye’s recent portrait of the Queen surrounded by the three silver lions from Rosenborg is the last to be included in the book, the iconography of Margrethe II keeps evolving. A portrait of her with her two heirs, by Niels Strøbek, who also painted the first portrait of her as Queen, was, as mentioned above, unveiled last week, while Thomas Kluge, the artist behind two of her more significant portraits, is currently working on a group portrait of the Queen and Prince Consort with their sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren, which will hang at Fredensborg Palace and mirror Laurits Tuxen’s famous painting of King Christian IX and Queen Louise with their descendants. I am told that the latter painting will be the subject of Fønss’s next book.
For an art historian of the younger generation this is book is an impressive and convincing debut which makes one look forward to his future publications.

Book news: Some royal books expected in 2012

As usual I will begin the new year with a survey of some of the books due to be published this year. The royal weddings and jubilees of 2010 and 2011 helped make those two years unusually rich on the book front, but 2012 also has some jubilees and related books to offer.
First out is Queen Margrethe II of Denmark’s jubilee next week. The museums at Amalienborg and Frederiksborg will both host exhibitions to mark her forty years on the throne and the former will focus on the Queen’s dresses. To accompany the exhibition Katia Johansen, who has for many years been a curator at the Royal Collections, has written Dronningens kjoler, which will be out next week.
The recent TV show on royal jewels is expected to result in a book to be published by Lindhardt og Ringhof in April, titled De kongelige juveler, written by Anna von Lowzow and Bjarne Steen Jensen. Anna von Lowzow is identical with Anna Lerche, a filmmaker at Nordisk Film who some may remember for her work on the A Royal Family series and book nearly ten years ago, while Bjarne Steen Jensen considers himself a jewellery expert and is the author of the not very reliable Juvelerne i det danske kongehus.
While Queen Margrethe celebrates her forty years on the throne, her third cousin Queen Elizabeth II of Britain will on 6 February be able to mark the sixtieth anniversary of her accession. Several books have already been published to mark the diamond jubilee – among them books by Robert Hardman, Andrew Marr and Sarah Bradford, of which I will post reviews in the foreseeable future – and on Tuesday Sally Bedell Smith, author of several well-received biographies, will join the rank of Elizabeth II biographers with her Elizabeth the Queen: The Life of a Modern Monarch, of nearly 700 pages, to be published by Penguin.
The British historian Kate Williams’s contribution to the jubilee is Young Elizabeth: The Making of Our Queen, to be published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson on 12 April. I suppose this slim volume (208 pages) may be considered some sort of sequel to Williams’s similar book on Queen Victoria of Britain.
This will, by the way, not be Williams’s only book this year; in June her biography of the Empress Joséphine of the French, Mistress of Empires: The Extraordinary Life of Josephine Bonaparte, will be published by Hutchinson.
February will also see the 75th birthday of King Harald V of Norway, on which occasion the National Museum will open the first of their six exhibitions based on the Royal Collections. The exhibitions will be accompanied by a sumptuous book titled Arv og tradisjon – De kongelige samlinger, which will be published by Orfeus and contain contributions by Tor Bomann-Larsen, Per Egil Hegge, Nina Høye, Ingeborg Anna Lønning, Knut Ljøgodt, Widar Halén, Bjørn Høie, Knut Ormhaug, Jan Haug, Sven Gj. Gjeruldsen and myself.
Also on the occasion of the King’s 75th birthday Dag Erik Pedersens has written Idrettskongen, an authorised book on the King’s interest in sports, which will be published by Gyldendal. The Queen will turn 75 in July and in the autumn Gyldendal will publish the much-awaited authorised biography of her, written by Ingar Sletten Kolloen.
The 150th anniversary of the death of Prince Consort Albert of Britain in December 1861 was recently commemorated by a conference on male consorts in history and I hear that this conference will result in a book. Meanwhile I. B. Tauris has published two biographies of such consorts, namely Jules Stewart’s Albert: A Life and Harry Kelsey’s Philip of Spain, King of England: The Forgotten Sovereign. Although both these books bear the date 2012 they did actually go on sale before Christmas.
Another British book expected this year is Jane Ridley’s Bertie: A Biography of Edward VII, which has been postponed at least twice.

New books: The reign of Queen Margrethe II

In the flood of books on Queen Margrethe II of Denmark – books of interviews, picture albums, year by year cavalcades, books on her art, the Queen and theatre, the Queen and archaeology, the Queen and her sisters, the portraits of the Queen and so on – I have always missed a proper biography of this perhaps most interesting of current European monarchs. Thus Jens Andersen’s biography M – 40 år på tronen, published by Lindhardt og Ringhof last Friday, is a welcome addition to the Margrethiana.
Dr Andersen, who is literary editor of the newspaper Berlingske, is one of Denmark’s most noted biographers and his tome on Hans Christian Andersen has been translated into several languages. His biography of the Queen has been written to mark her upcoming fortieth anniversary on the throne and although the Queen and other members of the Danish and Norwegian royal families have allowed themselves to be interviewed, it stands out from other Margrethe books by not being based solely on interviews with her.
Indeed Andersen has done his research well and draws on a wide range of primary and secondary sources. The fact that other voices than the Queen’s are heard, thus providing other perspectives than the subject’s, alone contributes to making this one of the most interesting books which has been written about Margrethe II.
The author has chosen to leave out Queen Margrethe’s early life (except in retrospect when relevant) and to deal exclusively with his reign, which he divides up in chronological chapters which treat a few years at the time. Often these chapters will relate some key events before leading to a more thorough exploration of one or more topics which are of particular relevance to this time period, such as for instance the Queen’s constitutional role, her use of the language, her support for the new nations which emerged out of the events of 1989-1991, or her relations with Greenland.
The book does not contain any great revelations, but adds some titbits of interest, for instance that the Queen thinks her first Prime Minister, Jens Otto Krag, viewed her as a “clumsy teenager” or that she first met the future Queen Sonja already in the summer of 1959. By this stage so much has been written about Queen Margrethe that one can hardly except much new of major interest to appear in her lifetime, but Andersen succeeds brilliantly in putting Margrethe II and her reign into the context of its times and in highlighting some of the longer lines which run through those forty years. One of the long lines he treats particularly thoroughly is the immigration issue, the other women’s liberation.
The author observes that the Queen has become quite good at expressing opinions in a way that does not make them political statements in themselves, but contributes to an ethical discussion. The author has made full use of Queen Margrethe’s New Year speeches, which are rarely dull and which she has used to voice her concerns about issues which have not always been uncontroversial. One recurring topic throughout her reign has been the immigration issue, which has not always sat well with xenophobic Danes. The author sees the Queen’s concerns with this issue in relation to her own family situation, where she has seen up close the challenges faced by immigrants.
Now that Margrethe II has been on the throne for forty years, she is universally admired and respected and the Danish monarchy stands solidly on its feet, it is very useful to be reminded that this has not always been the case. She became queen rather suddenly, at the age of only 31, at a time when the standing of the monarchy was low, and the first decade or so of her reign was marked by a severe economic crisis and a chaotic parliamentary situation.
Andersen shows not only how things have changed since then, but also how Margrethe II herself has developed. For instance he investigates how the Queen in the years immediately after her accession found her way to a deep religious faith, which has come to mean much to her, and also how she began to find her feet as an artist, which afforded her the opportunity to be evaluated by talent rather than by birthright.
The author is generally respectful towards his subject and seems to have a certain admiration for her (which indeed most people seem to have), but he is not fawning or uncritical. Also, he does not avoid some of less pleasant topics or episodes, such as the Prince Consort’s difficulties with his royal role, the award of the Grand Cross of the Order of Dannebrog to the King of Bahrain shortly before his violent suppression of the uprising earlier this year, or the controversy of the antependium the Queen made for Roskilde Cathedral.
Occasionally I found some of the more narrative parts a bit long-winded (for instance about the royal visit to the USA in 1976) and I could have wished for more on the Queen’s views and thoughts about the role of the monarchy in her own days, but the overall impression is that this is an excellent biography which adds something valuable to our understanding of its subject. This seems likely to become a classic among the vast number of books on Queen Margrethe II and a book which current and future students of her reign should not miss out on.
(As a disclaimer I should add that although I am among the historians quoted in the book, this does not disqualify me from reviewing it as I have not contributed to it).

My latest article(s): Ingrid of Sweden – and a book review

Royalty Digest Quarterly no 2 – 2011 is just out and in it you may found my article on the first 25 years of the life of Queen Ingrid of Denmark, i.e. those years when she was Princess of Sweden. Drawing on a wide range of sources, the article charts her childhood and youth, her upbringing and education, the marriage projects which came to nothing and the marriage which did happen, to Crown Prince Frederik of Denmark in 1935.

Also recently out is the Norwegian historical journal, Historisk tidsskrift (no 2 – 2011), to which I have contributed a review of Thomas Lyngby’s, Søren Mentz’s and Sebastian Olden-Jørgensen’s interesting book on the Dano-Norwegian absolute monarchy, Magt og pragt – Enevælde 1660-1848.

New books: A guide to the works of C. F. Hansen

Christian Frederik Hansen (1756-1845) is considered one of the greatest Danish architects in history and in recent years his reputation has grown also internationally, to such an extent that he is now sometimes mentioned among the great European architects of the classicist era.
Some 150 works by his hand are known, of which 77 are in existence today – among them Christiansborg Palace Church, the Metropolitan School, the Cathedral and the Court House are known to most residents of and visitors to Copenhagen.
Thomas Roland has gathered those 77 works in a volume titled C.F. Hansen i Danmark og Tyskland – En billedguide, which was published by Frydendal at Frederiksberg on 25 January. The book has also been published in German, for, as the author points out, it is essential to understand that the Danish realm in which C. F. Hansen was born was not the Denmark of today.
At the time it consisted of the Kingdoms of Denmark and Norway, the Duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, the Norwegian dependencies Greenland, Iceland and the Faeroes, as well as overseas colonies. For that reason many of Hansen’s works are today to be found in Germany – in particular in Altona, which 200 years ago was the second largest city in the Danish realm, but has today been swallowed up by the German city Hamburg. A single building whose façade has been attributed to Hansen can also be found in Norway (Fossum Manor).
Thomas Roland’s excellent book opens with well-written, thoughtful introductory chapters on classicist architecture in itself and those who introduced it in Denmark (Saly, Jardin, Harsdorff), the life and career of C. F. Hansen and glimpses of his contemporaries in Denmark and Germany.
Hansen’s “grand tour” had gone to Italy and, as Roland points out, his works were primarily influenced by Italian and Roman ideals from antiquity and the Renaissance. Roland places him among what he calls “the second generation” of classicist architects, those who are known in France as “revolution architects”. Their buildings are simple and monumental at the same time, perfectly proportioned and mostly void of unnecessary ornamentation. Hansen avoided repeating himself and strove to give each building an expression of its own.
His architecture was ground-breaking around 1800, but unlike for instance his great German contemporary Karl Friedrich Schinkel, Hansen clung faithfully to the classical ideals throughout his life and avoided experimenting with the neo-Gothic or other historicist styles. As he also held the position of “overbygningsinspektør”, which meant that it was up to him to approve the designs submitted by other architects, and held that position until retiring at the age of 88 in 1844, it could hardly be avoided that younger architects influenced by the changing ideals of their days came to consider the old master a hopeless reactionary who stood in the way of stylistic developments. That may in itself also have contributed to the neoclassical era in Danish architecture lasting as long as it did, Roland argues.
The main part of the book is devoted to the 77 existing works: villas, townhouses, manors, public buildings, churches, palaces, monuments, a bridge, stables, pavilions, industrial buildings and Christian VII’s tomb - but no furniture - beginning in 1785 and ending in 1839.
It should be noted that not all 77 works can be attributed to C. F. Hansen with absolute certainty, but Roland will in most cases let the reader know what implies that it is a Hansen work. Some of them are also only in part Hansen’s works – they may be older buildings which he altered, they may be his works but radically changed at a later stage or in the case of the second Christiansborg Palace only parts of it survived the devastating fire in 1884 and are now integrated into the third Christiansborg. Such things are also taken into account by the author, who if possible includes a photo of the original state of buildings which have since been altered.
Each work is presented in a brief text and profusely and beautifully illustrated – in most cases both exterior and interior, details and entirety. There are also maps showing the location of each building as well as its GPS position and a note on accessibility. As such this book is a guide in both meanings of the word – it is ideally suited both for those seeking an introduction to one of Denmark’s greatest architects and his works and for those who wish to go and see the works with their own eyes.

New books: Royal mistresses and morganatic wives

A book on Danish royal mistresses may sound like a saucy collection of gossip, particularly after the uproar over the recent “biography” of King Carl XVI Gustaf of Sweden. But Michael Bregnsbo’s new book, Til venstre hånd – Danske kongers elskerinder, published by Gyldendal in Copenhagen, is no such thing. Instead it is a serious, analytical study of the history of the mistresses and morganatic wives of the monarchs of the house of Oldenburg and of the system of which these women were part.
Bregnsbo, a leading Scandinavian historian of monarchies, points his finger at the discrepancies between the punishment meted out to “ordinary people” who committed adultery or bigamy and how the kings got away with doing the exact same thing. In this book he wants to identify the reasons behind the rise and fall of the “system” of official mistresses and to identify the political influence of it. The result is an interesting book, a good read and a valuable addition to our understanding of the Dano-Norwegian monarchy.
Both mistresses and morganatic wives are included in this study, but it is not a biographical study of these women, although the reader does of course learn quite much about their lives. Bregnsbo shows how they were often pawns in the power game which went on in the monarch’s proximity. The common denominator between Christian II’s mistress Dyveke and Kirsten Munk, who became Christian IV’s morganatic wife after the death of his Queen Anna Cathrine, is that they both had ambitious mothers who got to positions of influence through their daughter’s relation with the monarch.
Christian V, the second of the absolute monarchs, was the first king to take an official mistress (Sophie Amalie Moth) while his wife was still alive. His son, Frederik IV, took this to a new level by contracting two morganatic marriages during the lifetime of his Queen and crowning the second of them Queen almost as soon as his first Queen had died. In both cases the existence of an official mistress or a morganatic wife naturally weakened the position of the legitimate Queen, who might otherwise provide a “safe haven” or perhaps even a rallying-point for those out of favour with the King.
The position of an official mistress could, according to Bregnsbo, be viewed as much the same as that of a male favourite, through whom one might obtain favours from the monarch. This was particularly important after the introduction of absolute monarchy in 1660, which had seen the abolishment of the State Council and left the royal court as the only existing political arena.
Thus the relationship between a king and an official mistress was not simply an emotional and sexual relationship between two individuals, but the mistress was a means which could be used in the struggle for the omnipotent monarch’s attention, interest and favours. The fact that one might more easily get what one wanted by going by way of the mistress rather than through the Queen also contributed to weakening the Queen’s position.
The children born of extramarital affairs or morganatic marriages were also part of the power game. The illegitimate sons and sons-in-law of Christian IV, Frederik III and Christian V were given prominent official positions and came to play important roles on the public stage.
These royal children, who were considered some sort of superior nobility above the “ordinary” aristocracy, could also be used to forge alliances between the monarch and the nobility. Christian IV’s and Kirsten Munk’s children are examples of this, but in this case it eventually backfired on the King when the sons-in-laws had to choose between being loyal to the King or supporting their own and chose their own noble caste.
The influence of mistresses and illegitimate/morganatic children decreased from the days of Christian VI, who is not known to have had any mistress, and Frederik V, who had several, but none who came to hold any significant position of influence. As Bregnsbo sees it this was due partly to evolving political structures but also to attitudes in society in general.
The King was no longer as all-powerful as he had once been. In 1670 Christian V had established a privy council consisting of a handful of advisors. The influence of the Privy Council eventually increased and the way the realm was governed became more formalised. At the same time a state administration evolved, which meant that the court was no longer as dominant as before and that court intrigues were no longer the only way to achieve influence. This also meant that illegitimate/morganatic children were no longer needed to forge alliances with noble families.
At the same time changing attitudes in society meant that the same moral standards were expected on all levels, something which made it less acceptable for the monarch to keep an official mistress. The concept of influential mistresses thus died with Frederik IV in 1730.
It was only his great-great-grandson Frederik VI who some eighty years later again took an official mistress in the person of Bente Rafsted, who bore him several children. Although this was at the time when the Frederik VI took various steps in reaction to the absolute system slowly beginning to unravel, Bregnsbo does not believe that the King took an official mistress in order to project himself in the role as an absolute monarch on par with Christian V or Frederik IV.
He also points out that it was all done in a very different way. Rafsted was given the name and title of “Mrs Colonel Dannemand” rather than Countess or Duchess like her predecessors and Mrs Dannemand did not appear at court at all; instead the King came to her house in town, where he kept her and their children as a second family in addition to Queen Marie Sophie Frederikke and their two daughters. Mrs Dannemand also had no political influence, was not used as a pawn in the power game and her and the King’s children, although helped along in life, did not receive any influential positions in society.
The final case in such a study is Louise Rasmussen, the former ballet dancer who became the morganatic wife of King Frederik VII in 1850, two years after the fall of the absolute system. She came to play a political role through allying herself with the opposition which aimed at influencing the King to adopt a different policy than that favoured by his government. Ennobled as Countess Danner, Louise was kept at a distance by polite society and generally reviled.
As Bregnsbo points out this was partly a result of the monarch’s private life no longer being considered private and that society no longer tolerated what had been generally acceptable in the seventeenth or eighteenth centuries. The fact that the new constitution had introduced freedom of expression also meant that such criticism of the King’s morganatic wife could now be voiced publicly.
But many a public figure has found comfort in the thought that the contemporary view is not necessarily the same as the judgement of posterity and today most historians conclude that Countess Danner was a good influence on King Frederik VII and helped keep him afloat. The historian Harald Jørgensen, who died in 2009 at the age of 102, once discussed Countess Danner with King Frederik IX, who remarked: “May one not admit that the Countess was a good wife for the King?” This in sharp contrast to what his grandfather, the historian A. D. Jørgensen, was told by King Christian IX: “Yes, Mr Jørgensen, I have known the Countess. She was a bitch”.

New books: Venice and the staging of its glory

After two critically acclaimed books on Rome, the Danish art historian Mogens Nykjær has moved his focus further north, more precisely to Venice. The result is Venezia – Byhistorie og kunst, a gem among the many books on this most enchanting of cities.
In this lavishly illustrated, information-packed volume Nykjær investigates the relation between history and art in Venice, focusing on the years between the thirteenth century and the Napoleonic age immediately after the fall of the Republic.
Many of Venice’s many famous churches, palatial mansions and artworks go by in this book, but also simpler dwelling houses, communal wells and the many campos around which entire societies in miniature could revolve (Nykjær relates the story of an author who went to see an 100-year-old lady living near the Church of San Pietro di Castello in order to ask her about life in St Mark’s Square in her youth, only to be told that the centenarian had never once been to the Square).
But naturally the major sites, such as the Basilica of St Mark, the Ducal Palace and St Mark’s Square, are given the most thorough treatment and a chapter on ducal funerary monuments are among what stands out in this book.
Venice, Nykjær points out, is virtually alone among major Italian cities in not having a Roman past. This makes it a polycentric city, not a planned, monocentric city like those of Roman origins. But most importantly it meant that when Venice became a great power in the thirteenth century, one saw the need for inventing a past which could bear comparison to those cities with such a past.
And this – the staging of Venice, its self-celebration through art – is the main theme of Mogens Nykjær’s book. Venice cast itself in the role as the new Rome and the new Byzantium, a chosen city with a privileged position, closer to Christ and the Virgin Mary than any other city.
Nykjær highlights how the Doge’s throne in the Sala Del Maggior Consiglio in the Ducal Palace is situated immediately beneath Christ in Tintoretto’s glorious fresco “Paradise”, alluding to the Doge as the earthly mirror image of Christ. The same relation between Christ and the Doge can be found in Pietro Lombardo’s funerary monument to Doge Pietro Mocenigo in the Basilica of San Zanipolo.
In another of the Ducal Palace’s halls, those saved in Palma il Giovane’s “Doomsday” rush to that corner of the picture which is to be found above the door leading to the short corridor linking this hall to the Sala Del Maggior Consiglio. This is as Nykjær sees it the very culmination of how Venice presents itself through its art as a privileged, chosen city. Those redeemed on doomsday are shown rushing towards the door to Paradise – to Venice.
The self-staging of Venice reached its climax in the sixteenth century, when the might of the Republic was in fact in decline – partly as a result of Vasco da Gama’s finding an alternative route to India in 1498 and thus depriving Venice of its monopoly in trading with spices. But, as Nykjær points out, this was only a logical result of the usual practice whereby the urge for stressing the magnitude of one’s power increases when actual power decreases.
Thus, the sixteenth century was nevertheless the “imperial age” of Venice, when she rested contentedly in the position she had acquired while watching it slowly crumble. The fall of Constantinople in 1453 and the sack of Rome in 1527 provided Venice with an even greater opportunity to present itself as the new Constantinople and the new Rome – the imperial survivor.
Yet even the thousand-year-old Republic of Venice eventually came to an end. In the eighteenth century the authorities could no longer afford embellishing the city in the way it had hitherto done and the initiative shifted to private actors who also no longer refrained from glorifying themselves or their families rather than Venice – as can be seen in for instance Villa Pisani in Stra.
Mogens Nykjær’s interpretation of Venice and how it staged its own power and position through the arts is an excellent book which will hopefully be translated into other languages and take its natural place among the classics on this fascinating city.

New books: Frederik VIII’s Mansion

Following the restoration of Christian VII’s Mansion at Amalienborg a monumental two-volume work dealing with the mansion’s history, architecture and renovation was published. Now that the restoration of Frederik VIII’s Mansion is completed one has chosen a different and less scholarly approach, resulting in the book Frederik VIII’s Palæ – Restaurering. Ombygning. Kunstnerisk udsmykning, edited by a group consisting of Mads Falbe-Hansen, Carsten Kjær Sørensen, Dorte Bülow, Poul Schülein and Jens Bertelsen and published by Aristo Forlag. Apparently there is also a paperback version in English, titled Frederik VIII’s Palace [sic]: Restoration. Rebuilding. Artistic Decoration.
Following a foreword by Crown Prince Frederik and Crown Princess Mary, Peter Elgaard in the first chapter deals with the Amalienborg complex and the Frederik Town, of which it is part. Amalienborg, at the very heart of the Frederik Town, ranks as one of the loveliest architectural complexes in Europe and Elgaard also briefly presents its architect, the renowned Nicolai Eigtved, and makes some interesting points about buildings Eigtved may have encountered on his travels and which could have inspired him in his work on Amalienborg.
Bente Scavenius considers the history of Frederik VIII’s Mansion and its interiors, while Poul Schülein and Jens Andrew Baumann offer an insight into the choices and priorities made during the restoration process. Berit Møller looks at the colours of the interiors, particularly the ceilings, observing that the architect Jørgen Hansen Koch, who redecorated it in neoclassical style in 1827-1828, was obviously familiar with and chose to follow Goethe’s colour theory.
Lin Rosa Spaabæk and Mette Thelle take a closer look at the room which Johan Laurentz Jensen decorated with floral paintings, while Jacob Fischer considers the garden. Poul Erik Tøjner writes about the contemporary art with which the mansion has been decorated and finally Mads Falbe-Hansen looks back at the restoration process of which he was in charge.
Although one managed to keep the cost within the budget, much turned out differently from what was originally planned. The installation of the new artistic scheme was only suggested two years into the process and Falbe-Hansen also makes the point that it was only while the work was in progress that they realised the significance of the building they were working on.
Its empire-style interiors were created by Jørgen Hansen Koch at the same time as C. F. Hansen, now considered the greatest of Danish neoclassical architects, was working on the second Christiansborg Palace. Except for the Palace Church, the second Christiansborg was lost in the great fire of 1884, thus leaving Frederik VIII’s Mansion as the prime example of empire-style royal interiors.
When the project group realised this and that the mansion thus includes some of the most significant and comprehensive empire style interiors in Northern Europe it was easy to decide what should be at the heart of the restoration project: to recreate the mansion’s original clear floor-plan to the extent it was possible and practical, to preserve and strengthen the empire style interiors and to highlight modern forms where modern elements were added.
The chapters are all rather short and thus each of them offers more of a glimpse into the topic than a thorough treatment of it. Yet taken together, the chapters give a good overview of the mansion and the restoration process.
The publisher stresses that this is “the official book” on the process and occasionally parts of it read as celebratory speeches in which the various people involved thank each other profusely for the cooperation. And unlike Kirsten Lindborg in her 2005 book on the mansion, everyone is careful not to utter a critical word about the damage done to the building during the stewardship of King Frederik IX and Queen Ingrid.
The book’s great strength is the illustrations and there are indeed more illustrations than texts. There are page after page of excellent photos of the sun-bathed interiors (without furniture, as they were seen by 479,246 visitors during the public opening before the crown princely family moved in), the exterior and the garden. Robert Fortuna has taken most of the photos of the work in progress and the interiors, while Torben Eskerod has shot the completed artworks.
But it must be said that the book would have benefited from better proof-reading. There are many references to Christian VII’s Mansion, yet it is almost habitually called Christian VIII’s Mansion, which is another building. Also Frederik VII himself is sometimes called Frederik VIII. And we are even told that the mansion is located at the King’s New Square rather than Amalienborg Square!
The throne which was used by Frederik VI’s daughter, Princess Vilhelmine, in Frederik VIII’s Mansion during her marriage to Prince Frederik Carl Christian (the future Frederik VII) had originally been made for her sister Caroline with her intended marriage to her uncle Prince Christian of Hesse-Cassel in mind – here they all get mixed up and the throne is said to have been made for “Prince Frederik Carl Christian of Hesse-Cassel and Princess Vilhelmine”.
Christian VIII was never Crown Prince, nor was the current Queen ever Crown Princess. And if King Frederik VIII and Queen Louise married in 1869 on page 106, how can they celebrate their silver wedding in 1898 on page 107? There are also more than one example of illustrations not showing what the captions claim they do show. In a production like this such sloppiness ought to have been avoided.

New books: Absolute monarchy in Denmark-Norway

October saw the 350th anniversary of the establishment of an absolute monarchy in the Kingdoms of Denmark and Norway. This was one of the most absolute systems in Europe; the only limitations put on the King’s powers were that he was not allowed to give away any part of his powers, not allowed to cede any part of his realms and should belong to the Lutheran faith. The Dano-Norwegian absolute monarchy was furthermore unique in Europe in that it was based on a written law, the Lex Regia of 1665.
The anniversary is being marked with an exhibition at Frederiksborg Palace and another at Rosenborg Palace. In addition the three historians Thomas Lyngby, Søren Mentz and Sebastian Olden-Jørgensen have written the book Magt og pragt – Enevælde 1660-1848, published by Gad of Copenhagen. It is not a chronological history of the 188 years of absolute monarchy; rather the three authors deal with various aspects of its history.
Olden-Jørgensen is first out with a chapter on the origins of the absolute monarchy. Until then Denmark was an elective monarchy (whereas Norway was hereditary) and although the eldest son of the deceased king was always elected king, he was obliged to sign a contract with the three estates, which thereby had the chance to restrict the monarch’s power as they saw fit. In the wake of the wars with Sweden in the 1650s King Frederik III allied himself with the priestly estate and the bourgeoisie (third) estate against the nobility, which was subsequently outmanoeuvred. The estates returned the royal contract to the King, who thereafter ruled as an absolute and hereditary monarch.
Olden-Jørgensen takes to task two myths about the absolute monarchy. One is that the absolute kings lived in unsurpassed splendour; the other that it was only during absolutism that the monarchy acquired a religious foundation. He sees the splendour surrounding the monarchs as a “political language” and stresses how the security of the realm was a priority, meaning that fortifications were built and the army and navy strengthened, while no substantial palace was built by the first three absolute monarchs.
In the book’s second chapter Thomas Lyngby looks at the staging of the monarchy through the ceremonies in connection with major royal events such as births, funerals, anointments and the reception of foreign ambassadors, while at the same time showing how the absolute monarchy led to the establishment of a centralised administration which may be seen as the precursor for the modern state. It was simply not possible for the King to make every single decision in his vast realms and eventually it turned out that the bureaucracy worked so well independently of the King that the absolute system was able to survive to monarchs (Frederik V and Christian VII) who were unable to reign.
Sebastian Olden-Jørgensen returns with a chapter on the Struensee affair, which seems somewhat superfluous as the story is very well-known and nothing of significance is added here. The facts that Struensee’s road to power went through Queen Caroline Mathilde and that the reins of power were subsequently held by Dowager Queen Juliane Marie as well as Olden-Jørgensen’s point that the absolute monarchy was “a family firm” rather than a one-man show remind me that I miss an evaluation of the roles played by the queens.
Finally Søren Mentz draws the larger picture in the fourth chapter, looking at absolutism as it was practised in England-Scotland, France, Russia and the realm of the Indian Grand Mogul. To a certain extent it is a drawback that Mentz bases this solely on literature in English and here I also miss a comparison with neighbouring Sweden. In my opinion the earlier chapters would also have benefited from adopting a comparative approach as there are interesting similarities between the origins and consequences of Dano-Norwegian absolutism and the system as practised in other European monarchies.
The perhaps most interesting question – of why the absolute monarchy came to an end in 1848 – might well have been accorded a chapter of its own, but as it is this question is dealt with by all the authors in various parts of the book. Whereas the authors of this book see the origins of absolutism primarily in regional and local conditions, they consider its end as part of a larger, international picture.
Thomas Lyngby sees part of the reason in the human aspect and argues that the task of ruling an absolute monarchy eventually became too much for one individual, thus breaking the psyche of Frederik V and Christian VII. But his suggestion that this was an international development, exemplified through George III of Britain and Gustaf IV Adolf of Sweden, is not entirely convincing given that those signs of mental unbalance which might have been showed by Gustaf IV Adolf mostly appeared following his deposal and that George III, who indeed went mad as a consequence of the illness porphyria, was not an absolute ruler.
It is a commonly held perception that the reason why the Dano-Norwegian absolute monarchy lasted so long as 188 years was that it managed to adapt to emerging ideas and make them their own. The loss of control of political and cultural developments was the reason why absolutism came to an end in France and England-Scotland, Mentz argues, whereas one in Denmark-Norway subscribed to the idea that the King governed after having listened to the opinions of the people. This was obviously no longer the case after the end of the Napoleonic Wars, when Frederik VI joined Alexander I’s reactionary “Holy Alliance”, thus putting himself in opposition to current ideas.
The emerging nationalism also spelt trouble for the Danish monarchy, which following the loss of Norway in 1814 was reduced to Danish and German nationalities. Christian VIII, who succeeded his cousin Frederik VI in 1839, realised that absolutism would have to be abolished, but feared that an abrupt abolishment might lead to civil war between Danes and Germans. He therefore intended to relinquish his absolute powers step by step, but his sudden death in January 1848 put an end to these plans and the absolute monarchy imploded in the early stages of his son Frederik VII’s reign.
This book, which is also rich in well-chosen illustrations, must surely count as one of the most interesting Nordic contributions to the understanding of the nature of monarchies.

New books: Amalienborg, its inhabitants and its court

Amalienborg is the title of a book just published by Gyldendal in Copenhagen, written by Jørgen Larsen and Thomas Larsen and illustrated by Bjarke Ørsted. The title is however somewhat misleading, as this is not really a book about Amalienborg itself, but about the workings of the institution which has its headquarters there, i.e. the Danish monarchy. The book benefits from being written by political journalists with a more analytical approach than what is often the case with books on royalty.
The book opens with two chapters on the origins and history of the complex of four mansions that is Amalienborg, followed by interviews with Queen Margrethe, Henrik the Prince Consort and Crown Prince Frederik. The Queen, known to be articulate, is interviewed in no less than four chapters, but only one of them deals directly with her own relations to Amalienborg, her winter home for most of her life. In that chapter we get to hear about her and her husband’s views on interior decorating and how they reasoned when Christian IX’s Mansion was turned into their home following their 1967 wedding, which is quite interesting reading.
She also says quite much about her mother’s role in relation to Amalienborg, but this is strongly coloured by a daughter’s fond memories of her mother. She tells us how “well-informed” Queen Ingrid was about old houses and how they should be taken care of, but as the recent renovation of Frederik VIII’s Mansion has shown, Queen Ingrid did great harm to that building, often by overruling professionals who had other ideas.
In the other chapters Queen Margrethe speaks about various other things, such as wartime memories, her New Year speeches and her worry that today’s children are not allowed to be children as long as in her days. The chapter in which Prince Henrik is interviewed is more of a portrait of the man, to a great extent based on earlier interviews and his memoirs.
Queen Margrethe, probably the only one among the current European monarchs who could be described as an intellectual, is always a great interview subject, as she is very knowledgeable, has a sharp mind and a wonderful turn of phrase. Some highlights from these interviews are: “I am not without opinions, but they are for personal use”, “When people have sat down to listen, something should be said” (about her New Year speeches, which contain much more than the platitudes and pleasantries of her father’s days), and “Particularly when we want to be modern we end up being very conservative” (about Danish interior decoration in general). But Queen Margrethe has given so many interviews that one tends to feel that one has heard a lot of it before.
To my surprise I found that the most interesting interview in this book was that with Crown Prince Frederik. The Crown Prince and his family now live partly at the Chancellery House at Fredensborg and partly in Frederik VIII’s Mansion at Amalienborg, both buildings which were the homes of his beloved grandmother Queen Ingrid. Crown Prince Frederik speaks of the privilege of being able to live in the same houses as his forebears (a faint hint of cigarette smoke and perfume can sometimes be felt in his grandmother’s former homes) and also gives an interesting insight into the reasoning behind his and Crown Princess Mary’s choice to decorate their mansion with works of contemporary art as well as his own interest in modern art.
It is also interesting to note how he during the past decade or so has grown closer to his mother while at the same time becoming less critical of his own upbringing than he used to be in interviews and speeches. And this is perhaps where Crown Prince Frederik dares to say on behalf of his father what Prince Henrik himself has never gone so far as to say publicly, namely that he felt the needed to turn certain things around when he arrived in Denmark. According to the Crown Prince “he did away with parts of the conservatism which my grandmother and grandfather represented in his eyes. My grandfather was the patriarch, and what daddy did was always right”.
Except for the interview with the Crown Prince I found those chapters which deal with the working of the royal court the most interesting parts of the book. We get to meet some of the key courtiers – the Lord Chamberlain, the Private Secretary, the Master of Ceremonies, the Head of the Information Department – as well as many of the unsung heroes, who provide the reader with an insight into the work of the library, the furniture restoration workshop, the garage, the cleaners, the equerries, the Life Guard and others.
Also interesting are the chapters dealing with the challenges facing the monarchy today, both in relation to the media and in relation to politics and public opinion. The final chapters outline some interesting developments and trends relating to the monarchy in modern days, including the more critical voices which have appeared recently, for instance in connection with the debate over changing the Act of Succession.
(As a disclaimer I should add that although I am repeatedly mentioned and referred to in the book I have not contributed to it and am thus not partial when I review it).

New books: In defence of the Prince Consort

Henrik, the Prince Consort of Denmark, is arguably one of the least known figures among current royals. Not in the meaning that few have heard about him, but rather that few know what he is really like. He might perhaps in fact be one of the most interesting members of any European royal family, yet the way he is often caricatured by the Danish media means that few get to see those interesting sides of the man.
At the age of 76, the Prince Consort has for the first time become the subject of a biography, published by Politikens Forlag at the beginning of this month. Enegænger – Portræt af en prins is written by Stéphanie Surrugue, who in recent years has made a name for herself as a journalist at Politiken’s cultural section. The book had been postponed several times, but having read it, it seems fair to say that it was worth waiting for.
Born in 1977, Stéphanie Surrugue belongs to another generation than the Prince Consort, yet she is able to use her own story to tell that of Prince Henrik as her late father was in the same position as him – a Frenchman by birth, he moved to Denmark after marrying a Danish woman and, although integrated into Danish society, was always seen as “the Frenchman”.
But there is one thing which distorts the parallel. The Prince Consort, or Henri de Monpezat as he then was, may have been born in France, but he spent his early years at the family’s estates in what is now Vietnam, years which left deep marks on his character and the way he looks upon life. The outbreak of World War II meant that the family returned to France, which for the little boy was quite a cultural shock. One may thus say that he was uprooted twice and twice had to learn to adapt to a new country, a point which I think Surrugue does not fully take into account.
This is not a traditional biography based on a multitude of written sources, but, as the subtitle indicates, more of a portrait of the man, but also with traits of the reportage genre. The main sources are interviews with the Prince Consort himself, his immediate family and his closest friends. One might think it would have been refreshing to hear from some of those who do not adore the subject of the book and the absence of these voices does make the book somewhat one-sided. But on the other hand this seems to be first and foremost a book written in defence of Prince Henrik while at the same time trying to explore who he really is.
Surrugue’s interviews with the Prince are conducted in French, which means that the language occasionally feels a bit stilted when translated into Danish, such as his addressing her as “Madame Surrugue”. But this is a man in whose family one uses the formal “vous” rather than the informal “tu” even when addressing one’s parents, siblings or children.
A rather large part of the book is dedicated to the Prince’s life when he was not yet a prince. This is the story of Henri de Monpezat, who grew up as the second oldest of a huge flock of children at the family estate in South France, an upbringing dominated by his heavy-handed, choleric father, against whom he was in perpetual rebellion; who considered studying music but ended up as a career diplomat; and who at the age of 32 turned down the rather sensational offer of an ambassadorial posting (to Mongolia, but still an ambassadorial posting) in order to propose to the Danish princess he had met in London the previous year.
But Margrethe of Denmark was not only a princess. She was also the heiress to the throne and had in her own words “doubted if I would meet a man who would be able to say yes not only to me but to all that came with me”. Henri de Monpezat did so and thereby gave up his name and his nationality in order to move to Denmark and become the future queen’s husband and support. It was a choice which was to cause him both happiness and despair.
He now acknowledges that his father was right when he insisted that his role should be clearly defined from the beginning. But, he explains, he was young and in love and really did not feel in a position to lay down the law to the King of Denmark, his father-in-law. Queen Ingrid looked to how things had been done in Britain and the Netherlands and decided that her new son-in-law would become simply Prince Henrik of Denmark. In another context he points out that if King Frederik had told his wife that she would remain “Princess Ingrid”, she would have slammed the door behind her and gone back to Sweden.
The lack of a clearly defined role is something the Prince Consort considers one of the greatest difficulties of his life. The contrast between being a career diplomat and a prince without a real job was a “morally, intellectually and physically” difficult change, he says.
This he sees in relation to his being titled merely “Prince” until becoming “Prince Consort” in 2005. He argues that no-one could know the difference between Prince Henrik, the Queen’s husband and second in rank only to her, and little Prince Felix. If he had been made “statsprins, rigsprins, kongegemal” (State Prince or King Consort) his role would have been the same, but there would have been a clear indication that he had an actual role, he argues, while declaring that he would rather be called “Monsieur Henrik” than “Prince Henrik”.
The Prince Consort announces his intention to spend as much of his old age as possible at his château in France, which will confirm one of the most common Danish (mis?)conceptions about him, namely that he is more French than Danish. “Never forget to be proud of France”, was de Gaulle’s parting words to his young countryman when he departed for his wife’s country and Prince Henrik never has (he speaks of “the Anglo-Saxon dictatorship”).
With her own mixed Dano-French origins, Surrugue is in a better position than most Danes to understand the Prince Consort’s cultural background and the challenges facing him in Denmark. Denmark in 1967 was, as she points out, a country where wine was something one drank at confirmation parties and where only 29,000 out of 4.8 million inhabitants were immigrants – and only 621 of them were French. Queen Margrethe admits that a Frenchman was probably the last thing her parents had expected her to end up with – they rather expected a Briton or a Swede.
For Prince Henrik the easiest part of changing his country was apparently converting from Catholicism to Lutheranism. His father was furious and threatened to boycott the wedding, but Henrik himself anyway considers himself mostly a follower of Taoism and Confucianism. The language and the Danes’ attitude to foreigners were greater hurdles.
“I came to Denmark wishing to integrate myself entirely into my new country”, the Prince Consort says. The Danes are perhaps slightly xenophobic in that they expect immigrants to become entirely Danish as quickly as possible, yet they will continue to consider them foreigners (or “strangers”, which is the word often used) almost no matter how well they succeed.
That someone “is really Danish” is about the highest compliment a Dane can pay anyone and it was often said in that admiring manner of Prince Henrik’s Swedish-born mother-in-law, who succeeded better than most foreigners at coming across as truly Danish. Prince Henrik, on the other hand, still appears more French than Danish to many Danes and that is apparently something which rankles deeply with them.
The Prince Consort sees this himself and realises that language is the key factor. He acknowledges his mistake in not learning Danish well and fast enough, thinking from the beginning that there were more pressing issues to deal with and that he could catch up with the language later. His failure to do so would cost him dearly, as Prince Henrik’s Danish remains a standing joke to this day and is obviously one of the reasons why the Danes have never really taken him to their hearts.
Another reason why the Danes love Queen Margrethe but have never really taken to her husband may be that it is so obvious that the Queen absolutely loves her position with all its different aspects, while the Prince Consort often seems to come across as someone who loves the privileges and perks of his position more than the duties and responsibilities that come with it. This conception causes a lot of criticism of the kind that the Prince Consort really does not do much.
Surrugue addresses that criticism only implicitly, by dedicating a chapter to his patronages and the work he has laid down on them, thereby showing that he has made a difference. Yet she does perhaps weaken her own argument somewhat by dedicating more space to his hanging out with colourful friends and presenting him as the typical bon-vivant. Those parts of the book do also come across as a little too long-winded to me.
It could also be argued that the author sometimes relies too heavily on the Prince Consort as a source. “If there is anyone who knows the world history of princes consort it is the Danish title holder”, she writes, but this is obviously not quite right as Prince Henrik says he “after more than three decades took the title of Prince Consort which my equals in the Netherlands and Britain have had” – but none of the husbands of the three Dutch queens have had that title and neither does Prince Philip, yet this does not restrain Surrugue from referring to “Prince Consort Claus”, “Prince Consort Bernhardt [sic]” and “Prince Consort Phillip [sic]”.
There are also some other minor mistakes, but all in all this is a good book which, if it is widely read, may at last give the Danes a more accurate picture of who the Prince Consort is. He is a complex personality and to me it seems he is one of the most genuine characters on the public stage by always being himself, for better or for worse.
Prince Henrik’s diaries are “not only personal, they are private”. He has decided to leave the decision of whether to publish them to posterity. Until that day Stéphanie Surrugue’s portrait of the Prince Consort is likely to remain the most insightful account of the character of the man the Danes have lived with for more than forty years but never really come to understand or appreciate. One can only hope it is not too late.

New books: The artist Margrethe II

The art book Dronning Margrethe II – Et livsværk, edited by Anne-Mette Villumsen and Iben Overgaard, has been written to accompany the eponymous exhibition at the Skovgaard Museum in Viborg, marking the 70th birthday of Queen Margrethe II.
Queen Margrethe has had almost parallel careers as monarch and artist and this book looks back at the latter. Beginning with an interview with the artist, the book goes on with chapters where different authors look at various aspects of her work. Torben Weirup writes about her landscapes, Birgit Jenvold looks on the historic links between the monarchy and the arts, Karsten Nissen tells about the bishop’s mantle the Queen has designed for Viborg Cathedral, Ole Nørlyng writes about her scenography while Anne-Mette Villumsen explores her decoupages. The latter half of the book is given over to reproductions and a catalogue of the works exhibited.
The book’s format puts certain limits on how deep the authors can delve into their topic and, as in all anthologies, some succeed better than others. Anne-Mette Villumsen’s chapter on the decoupages is perhaps the best contribution to this book, while Ove Nørlyng in his chapter comes across as a little too uncritical about the Queen’s work, thus doing her a disfavour by not really treating her as a serious artist with weaknesses as well as strengths.

New books: An album about Queen Ingrid

Five years ago Rosvall Royal Books began the series “Swedish Princes and Princesses” with a book on Queen Astrid of the Belgians and now the second book in the series has finally appeared – Ingrid, 1910-2000 by Randi Buchwaldt and Ted Rosvall, published to mark the centennial of Queen Ingrid of Denmark’s birth.
The book is primarily a photo album, but it begins with a biographical essay (in Danish and English) by the 80-year-old Norwegian-born Danish journalist Randi Buchwaldt, who has earlier written books about Princess Benedikte and Queen Alexandrine. Buchwaldt does not really have any new revelations to make, but she stresses her involvement with her patronages and charities to a greater extent than other authors who have written about Queen Ingrid.
Buchwaldt has interviewed Queen Margrethe, Princess Benedikte and Queen Ingrid’s brother, Count Carl Johan Bernadotte af Wisborg. However I most enjoyed some of the anecdotes told by Carl Johan’s wife, Gunnila Bernadotte.
The Countess speaks of how her husband and his sister every summer would go to visit their childhood paradise Sofiero, now open to the public. Once they overheard a guide telling a busload of Swedish pensioners that Queen Ingrid would often come there, whereupon the Queen exclaimed loudly in Swedish “Here I am!” Another time Queen Ingrid and Count Carl Johan were walking around the garden reminiscing quite loudly as they were both hard of hearing and Gunnila noticed how they were followed by a tail of tourists listening in.
If one compares text and pictures there is a certain unbalance – the biographical essay focuses on Queen Ingrid’s years in Denmark and says quite little about her Swedish years, while there are lots of pictures from her childhood and youth and quite few from her old age.

New books: Margrethe II on Margrethe II

It is always a joy to read interviews with such an articulate, intelligent and thoughtful monarch as Queen Margrethe II. And as she herself admits that she finds it difficult to keep her mouth shut she is by now probably the most interviewed monarch in history.
It has almost become a tradition that major anniversaries are marked with a book of interviews with the Queen and her 70th birthday was no exception. Margrethe – Mit liv i billeder is written by the television journalist Helle Bygum and published by Lindhardt & Ringhof.
Queen Margrethe talks about her life – her childhood, her education, her role as head of state, her father, her husband, her children, her art, her faith, her mother, her New Year speeches, her daughters-in-law and her grandchildren. But I can only echo Politiken’s reviewer Helle Hellemann (external link) in observing that the Queen has said most of this before – something which is of course bound to happen sooner or later considering the many interviews she gives.
The book centres around 100 or so photos chosen by the historian Jon Bloch Skipper (author of a biography of Frederik IX and another book of interviews with Queen Margrethe and her sisters), which the Queen makes comments about. The quality of the paper does however not do full justice to all of the photos.

New books: The disputes of a fascinating newspaper

The Danish broadsheet Politiken is by many, including me, considered the best and most prestigious newspaper in Scandinavia. Bjørn Bredal’s book Politiken mod Politiken – Idékampe 1884-2009, published on the occasion of the newspaper’s 125th anniversary last October, is a fascinating account of Politiken and some of the tensions which have put their mark on its history.
Politiken was founded in 1884 by a group of radicals, including Viggo Hørup and Edvard Brandes, during the political struggle which ended in the introduction of parliamentarianism in 1901. It was an explicit purpose of Politiken to advocate a certain set of ideas, making it what one would today call a viewspaper rather than a newspaper.
In 1905 Henrik Cavling changed it in the direction of a more objective newspaper. However, the same year several of Politiken’s leading men founded the Danish Social Liberal Party and many of them would thereby find themselves in parliament and government. Thus the Social Liberal Party was not, like many other parties, a party with a newspaper, but Politiken was a newspaper with a party, whose parliamentary group meetings it attended.
The formal ties between the newspaper and the party were cut in 1970, but Politiken continues to be what is in Danish called a “culture-radical” newspaper left of the centre. Following the political earthquake of 2001, which brought an end to the normal situation that governments of both left and right would need the support of a centre party to form a majority, replacing it with a right-wing government supported by the far right-wing, it has occasionally been said that Politiken’s high-profile editor-in-chief, Tøger Seidenfaden, is the real leader of the opposition rather than the meek Social Democrat Helle Thorning-Schmidt.
The balance between newspaper and viewspaper has continued to be a central challenge for Politiken, which has also seen many internal disputes over its direction. This became very obvious earlier this month, when Seidenfaden publicly regretted having reprinted Jyllands-Posten’s infamous Mohamed caricature, something which caused 38 members of the editorial staff to write an op-ed (hardly ever has that word been more precise) protesting against the editor’s apology.
Bjørn Bredal’s book is not a chronological history of the newspaper, although the chapters are interspersed with facsimiles and excerpts from its history, focusing on the year it was founded and its 25th, 50th, 75th, 100th and 125th anniversary years. This works very well as Politiken has traditionally paid much attention to its layout, making it one of the most well-designed newspapers in Europe (it is almost alone in Scandinavia in sticking to the broadsheet format). The book is also in itself well designed and illustrated.
Bredal charts the newspaper’s history and development through looking at some central topics of controversy and how these have been dealt with by Politiken throughout is history. Among them is the issue of gender and morality; Israel, Zionism and anti-Semitism (a number of Jews have held important posts at the newspaper); sports; the arts; and war and foreign policy.
A chapter I personally found particularly interesting is the one dealing with the Easter crisis of 1920 and the caricature crisis of 2005 (and after). The first nearly broke Politiken as it referred to King Christian X’s dismissal of Prime Minister Carl Th. Zahle, ninety years ago on this very day, as a “coup d’état”, a choice of word which Henrik Cavling realised was a mistake as it again made Politiken a political weapon more than a reporting newspaper. This put Politiken in the same category as Social-Demokraten and cost it a huge number of subscribers and advertisers, very nearly ruining the newspaper.
(It was therefore interesting to note six days ago, after I had finished the book, that one of Politiken’s editors, Lars Trier Mogensen, used exactly the word “coup d’état” about the Easter crisis in an article where he called for the monarchy to be completely severed constitutionally from politics).
Bjørn Bredal’s book is essential reading for anyone interested in or wanting to understand the unique newspaper concept that is Politiken. And in its own way it is also a book which says much about Danish history, politics and culture in general.