Daily Archives: July 22, 2015

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All families have their problems – some more than others

51JzLs8XVHL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_Well if you think that your family has its quirks and secrets, just take a look at the family of George III, his queen, Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, and their large brood of dysfunctional princes and princesses.

And that is what Janice Hadlow (former Controller of BBC2) has done in her excellent book, The Strangest Family, published by William Collins in 2014 (ISBN978-0-00-716519-3). It’s a mammoth tome, 617 pages (and another sixty plus pages of acknowledgements, notes and index).

Born in 1738, acceded to the throne in 1760 following the death of his grandfather George II, married in September 1761, George III was father to 15 children (nine boys, two of whom died very young, and six daughters). And although George entered marriage with the aim of not repeating the ‘errors’ of his great-grandfather (George I), his grandfather, and father Frederick, Prince of Wales (who died in 1751), the ‘Hanoverian curse’ did not by-pass his family.

It seems George III remained faithful to Charlotte—unlike his regal predecessors who all took a string of mistresses. And although family life in the George III household seems to have started well, and George was reportedly a loving father to his young family, divisions began to develop as the older boys struggled under the strict and moral lifestyle imposed on them by their father. Soon the relations between George and Charlotte and their elder sons George, Prince of Wales, Frederick, Duke of York, and William, Duke of Clarence had become as sour as those between George I and his son, George II, and him and his son, Frederick, Prince of Wales.

The six daughters of George and Charlotte were not spared either. Their parents were controlling and implacable when it came to them marrying and moving on beyond the family. With selfish parents like George and Charlotte it’s hardly surprising that their children grew up rebellious or forever denying that their parents had ever loved them. Three daughters eventually did marry: Charlotte, Princess Royal, Elizabeth, and Mary, but not until they had reached middle age. Two remained spinsters, Augusta and Sophia, and Sophia is widely believed to have borne an illegitimate boy. Amelia, who was George’s favourite, died unmarried (although deeply in love with one of George III’s equerries) at 27, from tuberculosis and an acute bacterial infection of the skin, erysipelas (or St Anthony’s Fire).

Hadlow’s is a thorough and entertaining account of the life that George and Charlotte built for themselves, during a remarkable period in history, the second half of the eighteenth and early part of the nineteenth centuries. Remarkable? This was a period of great social change from a largely rural to urban living, a time of great conflict (the Seven Years War with France came to an end in 1763 but saw the UK evolve as the major world power), the loss of the American colonies during the War of Independence, the French Revolution, and the rise of Napoleon Bonaparte and the two decades of conflict in Europe that came to an end at the Battle of Waterloo on 18 June 1815 with the defeat of the French. George’s reign also saw significant scientific and engineering developments such as vaccination against smallpox or the digging of the first canals. And not long after Waterloo, the first railways were built. George and Charlotte certainly presided over interesting times.

Janice Hadlow’s book is particularly interesting in the first 100 pages or so, and also in the latter part of the book. She spends time detailing the reigns of George I and George II, and how their familial relations were to impact eventually on George III. These pages give a contextual framework for George III’s reign that I hadn’t come across before. And of course, much of the familial dysfunction of George III was due in no small part to the periods of ‘madness’ he suffered from the later 1780s onwards, until he finally became totally incapacitated and his son, the future George IV became Regent. It split the family asunder, and Charlotte became increasingly irascible and hostile to her daughters. It’s no wonder they desired to seek the haven of marriage, even if it would be an arranged marriage to someone who they did not know nor could ever love.

Several years ago I had come across another book, published in 2004, by Flora Fraser, and from the princesses’ perspectives. Princesses – The Six Daughters of George III is also worth a few days of your literary time.

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The Man [on] the Moon (updated 20 July 2019)

FullMoon2010 copyDo you remember where you were on Sunday 20 July 1969? I do.

I was attending an ecology field course in Norfolk having just completed my second year at the University of Southampton (studying botany and geography). I was one of a group of 20 or so botany and combined honours students spending two weeks studying plant ecology under course tutors Drs Joyce Lambert and John Manners.

Joyce Lambert (ecologist) and John Manners (mycologist)

Looking back, I think we had a good time, visiting the Norfolk Broads (the origin of which Joyce Lambert had determined many years earlier), and the Breckland, among other places. The first week was spent on site visits, and during the second, we split into pairs to carry out a series of mini-projects at Wheatfen Broad, home to celebrated Norfolk naturalist and broadcaster, EA ‘Ted’ Ellis.

We stayed at Wymondham College, a boarding school in the village of Wymondham about 15 miles southwest of Norwich. Now a state day and boarding school for pupils (including international students), in the late 1960s it catered more to families from rural Norfolk, if I recall correctly.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, there we were ensconced in Wymondham College, almost the only occupants as the school was closed for the summer holiday. It was also more than a mile walk to the nearest pub, which we undertook almost every evening once any after dinner studies had been completed.

During the first week, however, Apollo 11 had blasted off from the Kennedy Space Center (Cape Canaveral) in Florida on 16 July on its way to the Moon, for the first landing mission. A momentous occasion, and one we did not want to miss. The problem was that there was no television to watch.

But four days later, very late on the evening of 20 July and in the early hours of 21 July¹, we were all huddled around a TV in the common room, watching rather grainy live pictures from the Moon as Neil Armstrong stepped off the lunar landing module and uttered those forever famous words: That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.

We had clubbed together and rented a TV—much to the disapproval of Joyce Lambert and John Manners—from a local company so that we could participate in one of the most significant events of the twentieth century. I don’t think botanical productivity was particularly high at Wheatfen Broad the next morning. We were a group of very sleepy botanists staggering around up to our knees in Norfolk mud as we tried to work out plant succession in the various communities we were tasked to study.

And of course, just a few days ago it was the 46th anniversary of the first Moon landing, bringing back so many other memories as well.

It’s also interesting to see that this important anniversary has brought all the Moon landing deniers out of the woodwork. First Moon landing astronaut Buzz Aldrin and broadcaster Professor Brian Cox (from the University of Manchester) were soon on social media refuting these denials.

Whatever next will the deniers get their teeth into?

¹ And, on the 50th anniversary of the Lunar landing, I realised that one detail at least in the account above was wrong, and which I have now corrected. Originally I had written that we watched Armstrong step on the Moon on 20 July.

Armstrong and Aldrin landed on the Moon at 20:17 UTC on 20 July 1969, a Sunday. In the UK, with British Standard Time in place (UTC +1), that would have then been 21:17. The moonwalk didn’t begin until 02:56:15 UTC (Monday 21 July), when Armstrong uttered those memorable words: That’s one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.

We were sat in front of the TV watching the landing and moonwalk until at least 4 am. No wonder we didn’t approach fieldwork after breakfast with any degree of enthusiasm.

Incidentally, on 16 July past, at about 22:30 (21:30 UTC) there was a partial eclipse of the Moon, that we easily observed in the southeast sky from our bedroom window.