Lady Pamela Hicks: A Witness to Royal History

Lady Pamela Mountbatten was born on 19 April 1929, in the Ritz hotel in Barcelona. Her mother, the wealthy heiress and socialite, Lady Edwina Mountbatten (nee Ashley) had recently travelled to there ‘on a terribly bumpy’ train line from Malaga. Edwina’s husband, Lord Dickie Mountbatten, a great-grandson of Queen Victoria and a brother of the then Crown Princess Louise of Sweden, was then serving as an Assistant Wireless Officer in the Mediterranean Fleet. He had joined his wife in Madrid with the intention of taking a sightseeing tour. Fortunately, an English doctor was staying at the hotel when Edwina was suddenly awakened in the early hours with severe pains. However, as was his habit, Lord Mountbatten had also made contact with one of his network of royal relatives, King Alfonso of Spain, who said, ‘Leave Everything to me’ and promptly sent the Royal Guard to surround the hotel. The guards then attempted to arrest the English doctor when he returned to the hotel from the local hospital where he had gone in search of the necessary ‘kit’ for the birth. The labour lasted most of the day and despite being five weeks premature, Pamela was well and strong.

Pamela was initially raised at Adsdean, a large rented property near Chichester and at Brook House in London’s Park Lane. Edwina was somewhat of an absentee mother who thought nothing of making an extensive tour of the United States leaving behind her ten-month-old child. Indeed, in her memoirs Pamela admitted that ‘I can never remember my mother spending any length of time with me at Adsdean.’ Yet, over time, Edwina would probably become closer to Pamela than her older daughter Patricia (born in 1924). The latter, however, was without doubt (and by his own admission) the apple of Dickie’s eye. It was fortunate that Pamela had Nanny Vera (who she recalled had a crooked tooth) to look after her. It so happened that she was prone to ear and stomach aches and in 1931, while Edwina was on yet another tour (this time including Mexico, Cuba and South America) caught chicken pox from her older sister. This pattern of Edwina on tour and Dickie and others picking up the parental slack would continue throughout the 1930’s. It was he, not Edwina, who treated Pamela to lunch at a well-known restaurant to celebrate her fifth birthday, invented games to play or read to her at bedtime. Yet, Pamela never felt unloved with her dogs and ponies to attend to and the ever-comforting presence of her nanny or Mrs Lankaster (‘Hanky’) the Adsdean housekeeper.

In November 1931, Pamela joined her father, mother and sister in Malta where Dickie had been promoted to the post of Fleet Wireless Officer, Mediterranean. A Miss Vick was employed as a governess for Patricia and Pamela and was responsible for running the house, known as the Casa Medina, in the absence of Dickie (who was often working aboard HMS Daring) or the ever-restless Edwina. Meanwhile, the Mountbatten’s royal connections were underlined when, in August 1932, the family received a visit from the Prince of Wales and his brother Prince George. Pamela would also recall that they entertained the deposed King Alfonso of Spain during this period, both in England and in Malta. Then, in the autumn of 1935, when Italy invaded Abyssinia, Edwina decided that the girls should leave Malta and spend time in what she regarded as the relative safety of Hungary. After travelling to Budapest with Nannie and Miss Vick, the small party eventually settled at a hotel at Kekes Szallo. Following a short stay with Pamela’s Great Uncle and Great Aunt, the Grand Duke and Duchess of Hesse in Darmstadt, in the spring of 1936 they returned to England where Lord Mountbatten had been appointed to the Naval Air Division of the Admiralty. On one occasion, King Edward VIII came to Adsdean with his paramour Wallis Simpson and her husband Ernest Simpson. Edward VIII would abdicate that December. The following May, Pamela would recall being taken to Buckingham Palace while her parents and older sister attended the coronation service of King George VI at Westminster Abbey. She was able to watch the royal processions as they departed and returned.

Lady Pamela (far right) with her parents and sister Patricia.

During this period, Pamela became aware that her parents had reached a modus vivendi in their marriage. Edwina, who Pamela recalled ‘had endless boyfriends’ was particularly drawn to the tall a Guard officer, Harold ‘Bunny’ Phillips; while Lord Mountbatten favoured a Frenchwoman, Yola Letellier who was married to the owner of the newspaper Le Figaro. Tellingly, Pamela would admit that Bunny’s presence ‘made my mother easier to be around,’ for Edwina could be ‘prickly’ and prone to taking offence. By contrast, Pamela found her father to be quite the opposite, full of fun and keen to interact with his daughters, although by this stage she was attending a boarding school at Uckfield, Buckswood Grange. Yet, Edwina could be full of surprises and once brought home a three-month-old lion cub called Sabi from Africa. Thereafter, the family spent much of their time as Broadlands, the Hampshire home Edwina had inherited in July 1939 following the death of her politician father, Wilfred Ashley, the 1st Baron Mount Temple.

War broke out in September 1939 and Pamela recalls seeing the flashes from fighting at Calais across the English Channel from Broadlands. Her father was now serving as Captain of HMS Kelly which was torpedoed amidships in May 1940. It was deemed to be repairable. Edwina, meanwhile, was increasingly involved with the St John’s Ambulance Brigade, in due course rising to the rank of Lady Superintendent-in-Chief. In June 1940, Pamela and her older sister Patricia were evacuated to the United States and taken under the care of the wealthy American socialite, Mrs Cornelius Vanderbilt (‘Aunt Grace’), at her impressive mansion on Fifth Avenue (where they and their nanny had a whole floor to themselves) or at her equally prestigious home on Rhode Island. It was felt that their Jewish blood (their late maternal grandfather, the financier Sir Ernest Cassel, was Jewish) would make them a target of the Nazi regime should Britain be invaded. An English governess, Miss Pugh, was engaged to look after them when Mrs Vanderbilt went off to Hot Springs for some rest and recuperation. Her appointment was not a success as the girls craved for their French governess Miss Chevrier who had been permitted to accompany them from England. During this time the girls attended the Hewitt School on 79th Street which had an English headmistress. Visits to the zoo, the cinema and the pantomime provided some distraction. However, letters from England were intermittent and often did not arrive in date order! Furthermore, gifts of ‘divinely pretty ‘ clothing by one rich socialite, concerned by the girls rather mundane wartime wardrobe, were resolutely refused to Pamela’s chagrin. Although the Mountbatten’s were rich, Edwina was subject to the same wartime monetary controls as anyone else. She relied on rich American friends such as John Schiff to settle the larger bills for schooling and medical fees and this was reimbursed as soon as practicable.

Lady Pamela and her sister Lady Patricia Mountbatten in wartime England

In May 1941, came the news that HMS Kelly had been sunk off Crete after being attacked by German dive bombers. It was feared that Lord Mountbatten was among the dead. Pamela was devastated when she learned of the ship’s fate. Fortunately, Mountbatten later cabled Edwina to say that he was safe. She then immediately telegraphed this news to New York. In the meantime, Edwina had managed to arrange a permit for Miss Chevrier to travel to New York. She was a godsend, teaching the girls to wash and mend their clothes, thus reducing the laundry bills. She also had sufficient authority to ensure that Pamela and her sister, with their links to “King George” were not “paraded” at smart lunch or dinner parties. However, it transpired that Pamela, in particular, felt homesick for much of her time in New York. On one occasion, she and Patricia, accompanied by Miss Chevrier, even made a wistful visit to the docks to see the ships bound for Europe. Eventually, in August 1941, Edwina and Dickie paid their daughters a visit, although they also both had demanding official duties to attend to on behalf of the Red Cross, St John’s Ambulance and the Royal Navy. Nonetheless, despite visiting 22 cities in the US, in part to highlight the wartime relief work being undertaken in Britain, Edwina did manage to take a bus trip with her daughters to a town some fifty miles from New York, where they enjoyed a restful lunch and spent the day together. However, she soon set off for Canada to undertake a ten-city tour of the Dominion. Thereafter, while Patricia stayed on for six months to complete her High School education, a ‘bored and irritable’ Pamela was to return England with her mother at the end of November aboard a Clipper seaplane via Bermuda, the Azores and Lisbon. However, when they reached Portugal mother and daughter had to separate as there was only one “priority connection” on 1 December to England available. Pamela had to bide her time at the British Embassy until mid-December when she too could flew home. However, space was so cramped at the Chester Street townhouse in London that during half-term, Pamela had to share a room with Edwina and the Sealyhams. Pammy’s cousin (the son of Dickie’s sister Princess Alice) Prince Philip of Greece, when on leave from the Royal Navy, slept on a camp bed in the drawing room.

All were glad when Patricia arrived home in the spring of 1942 to join the WRNS. However, the death of Prince George, the Duke of Kent in a flying accident, while on active duty in north-east Scotland, was a reminder of the dangers of wartime. He had only recently stayed to Broadlands while carrying out local inspections. It must be remembered that around this time, Lord Mountbatten was flying as far afield as the United States, which had now entered the war, on official duties. He was soon to be absent from Pamela’ s life for a long period as in August 1943, Churchill appointed Mountbatten Supreme Allied Commander, South East Asia Command (SEAC). Dickie would be based out of Kandy in Ceylon until 1945. Patricia would eventually serve there. Furthermore, for much of the time Edwina was travelling the length and breadth of the country with her war work. In January 1945, she left Pamela behind in England for three months while she headed off to India on an inspection tour, sometimes taking in four hospitals in one day. Pamela was waiting at Broadlands (much of which was in use as an annexe to a local Hampshire hospital) when she returned in April. Patricia, who had ten days leave, joined them. By the summer, Pamela had left school (St Giles) and spent time with her parents as Lord Mountbatten had arrived home on leave in July. She was with her father when he received word, on 9 August, that Japan had capitulated. However, all too soon her father was on the move back to the Far East. On 19 August, Pamela and her mother attended the Thanksgiving Service in St Paul’s Cathedral in the presence of the King and Queen. However, within 36 hours, Edwina too was off again to the Far East to coordinate the return of prisoners of war who were still living in filthy conditions, leaving Pamela to cope as best she could.

By April 1946, Pamela was approaching her 17th birthday and attending a new finishing school in Gloucestershire. Edwina, who was currently much enamoured of the conductor Malcolm Sargent, introduced his son Peter to her youngest daughter in the hope that he would be a friend. Pamela was not at all interested. Her father finally returned home in June. Neither he nor Pamela were happy about the liaison between Edwina and ‘the bandmaster’ (as Pamela’s grandmother Victoria referred to him) particularly when Edwina found Sargent a larger flat and helped furnish it with items from Broadlands.

However, Dickie, Edwina and Pamela’s life was all about to change… In October 1946, Patricia married the aristocrat John Knatchbull, the 7th Baron Brabourne. The couple had met in Ceylon during the war when he was Lord Mountbatten’s Aide-de-Camp. Pamela was a bridesmaid, as were her third cousins, the King’s daughters, Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret. Then in February 1947 Dickie was appointed Viceroy of India. He gave Pamela the news during a morning ride at Broadlands, adding that she was to accompany her parents to Delhi in March. Thereafter, Pamela was busy having old garments altered and new ones bought. The Mountbatten family all attended a farewell cocktail party attended by 700 people at the RAC Club before flying out to Delhi via Karachi. After familiarising herself with her quarters in the vast Viceroy’s House, Pamela was soon encountering some of the leading politicians of the day in India including Gandhi, his protégé Nehru of the Congress Party and the Muslim leader, Jinnah. It would be fair to say she had a ringside seat as the independence negotiations unfolded as the house was a hive of social as well as political activity. Pamela was witness to numerous garden parties attended by up to 600 invitees; while on her 18th birthday, her parents held a small dance outside by the pool. She fretted over her mother’s neuralgia, partly caused by overwork and the draining heat. Sometimes she accompanied Edwina on her round of hospital inspections or visits to exhibitions. On other occasions Pamela ploughed her own furrow, making use of a contact list of ‘progressive’ individuals provided by the Quakers in London. She would later work in a clinic providing free medicines and healthcare to the needy of Delhi, as well as at the Allied Forces Canteen. At one stage, while in Simla, her leg became badly infected. However, for her father, Pamela’s role was as a sounding board, as well as a source of solace and relaxation when they rode together each morning at 6.30.

Lady Pamela with Prime Minister Nehru in India.

India would achieve independence on 15 August. The price of independence was the partition of the Indian sub-continent with Mountbatten being appointed the new mainly Hindu India’s first Governor-General (Jinnah would become Governor-General of the mainly Moslem Pakistan which included the West Punjab and what is today known as Bangladesh). In Delhi, Pamela could look on proudly as the people gathered in the streets to cheer her father ‘as no European had ever been cheered before’. However, once the Radcliffe Commission had given a final decision on the boundaries of the two nations on 16 August, both India and Pakistan were torn apart by fighting between displaced Hindus and Muslims. In Delhi, Muslim members of staff at Government House (formerly Viceroy’s House) required protection. Edwina joked that ‘Pammy’ had become ‘quite keen’ on Spam, as there was often little else available to eat and food had to be rationed as supplies were scarce. During this period Pamela was attached to the staff of the head of the Military Emergency Staff, General Peter Rees as his personal assistant.

In November, the trio interrupted their work to return briefly to London for the wedding of Princess Elizabeth to Pamela’s cousin, Prince Philip of Greece. ‘Pammy’ was one of the eight bridesmaids and would later recall that the King and Queen had initially been ‘appalled’ at the thought of the marriage, wondering why their daughter did not marry ‘some respectable English Duke’. Back in India, an understanding Pamela was amused by her father’s occasional mild flirtations including with an Anglo-Indian actress. She was also undoubtedly aware of the ‘deeper attachment’ that existed between Edwina and the Prime Minister, Pandit Nehru. Pamela had observed this at first hand when Nehru had previously joined the Mountbatten family for a short stay at the Vice-Regal weekend house, the Retreat at Mashobra, close to Simla. Yet she was adamant in later life ‘It was not a sexual relationship but every bit as deep.’ The work of the Military Emergency Committee was wound up on 28 November.

As 1948 dawned, Pamela was shocked like everyone else by the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi by a right-wing Hindu nationalist in Delhi. She had been fond of him and attended his funeral at nearby Raj Ghat, as did hundreds of thousands of others. Pamela now often accompanied her parents on engagements such as to the Kennel Club of India Championship Dog Show and was pleased that her sister Patricia was able to pay a visit. Another, perhaps less welcome visitor was Malcolm Sargent who joined the four Mountbatten’s on a two-day break to Mashobra. However, the conductor was laid low with dysentery and at Edwina’s insistence cancelled his onward flight to Ankara. Back in Delhi, he was whisked off to an Inter-Service Tattoo and also entertained to a post-dinner recital of Indian music.

Lord Mountbatten’s period as Governor-General came to an end in June 1948. On the final day the Mountbattens processed through Old Delhi with crowds estimated at 250,000. Dickie, Edwina and Pamela now returned to Malta where Lord Mountbatten, a Vice-Admiral, took command of the First Cruiser Squadron. Pamela sometimes assisted her mother with correspondence at their new residence in Valletta, the Villa Guardamangia. Otherwise, she worked in the offices of SSAFA [Soldiers, Sailors & Airmen Families Association] who dealt with the domestic welfare of those serving overseas. At the end of 1949, Edwina asked Pamela to join her on a trip to India to inspect the work of a Refugee Relief she had set up after independence. Much of the time was spent visiting galleries and museums with Nehru and her mother. This expanded Pamela’s historical and cultural horizons.

When Prince Philip joined the Mediterranean Fleet in October 1949, he and his wife Princess Elizabeth often stayed at the Villa. With her semi-royal status, Pamela was appointed a Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Elizabeth. She was to accompany her and Prince Philip on an extensive Commonwealth tour in early 1952 with firm instructions from Queen Mary never to call her by the familiar family name of ‘Lilibet’ but as Princess Elizabeth or Ma’am. However, Pamela received a dress allowance which was sufficient to buy six dresses from the couturier Worth. After spending a few days in Nairobi, the royal party arrived at Sagana Lodge, a fishing lodge which had been a wedding gift Princess Elizabeth and her husband from the people of Kenya. While the menfolk fished, Pamela rode out early each morning with the Princess. On the evening of 5 February, Pamela and Mike Parker, Prince Philips Private Secretary travelled with the royal couple around 20 miles to Treetops, a rather basic lodge four-bedroom lodge set in a large tree overlooking a salt lick where animals could be observed in their native environment. After spending the night there, the group returned to Sagana Lodge. However, during the early hours of 6 February, while the royal party had been observing the wildlife at Treetops, King George VI died at his Sandringham home in Norfolk and Princess Elizabeth had became Queen. However word of his death did not reach Kenya until 1.45pm local time. Pamela watched from a window as Prince Philip delivered the news to his wife. Like everyone else, Pamela was shocked, but she did remember to drop a deep curtsey to her Sovereign. Of course, this meant an end to the trip and an immediate return from Kenya by air via Entebbe to London. Her father and mother were waiting at the airport to greet her on her return.

Lady Pamela helps the Queen at a Royal Ball in Melbourne 1954

At this juncture Pamela again spent time in Malta where her father was now Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet. At one stage she even toyed with joining the staff of the Indian High Commission in London but her father dissuaded her. She was then back in London for the Coronation and later learned that the postponed Commonwealth tour of the previous year was to resume in November 1953. She would be absent from England for six months but the upside was that Pamela would visit Jamaica, Fiji, Tonga, New Zealand, Australia and Ceylon, although inevitably the engagements were formulaic and repetitious. However, the presence of her cousin Prince Philip was a boon as he jollied proceeding along. Only in New Zealand, where there had been a dreadful rail disaster at Christmas, did Pamela feel particularly downcast and miserable for she was so far from her parents and other loved ones. She was certainly wowed by the royal entry into Sydney as they sailed through “the Heads” into the harbour aboard the royal ship, Gothic. However, a polo epidemic in Western Australia somewhat curtailed activities, particularly where young children were concerned. No hands could be shaken and food was brought up to Government House at mealtimes from the Gothic. The royal party ate separately from the others to cut the risk of infection and returned to sleep aboard the ship each night. Despite the long absence, Pamela found the tour to have been a great experience. On the return journey, Pamela had the enjoyable experience of embarking the new Royal Yacht Britannia at Tobruk. This was to be the Queen’s first journey aboard the recently-completed vessel. They proceeded to Malta where the Queen and Prince Philip’s children Charles and Anne were waiting to greet their parents and full of tales of their time with Uncle Dickie and Aunt Edwina.

Pamela would continue to accompany her mother on trips to India as recently as 1959. Pamela married David Hicks on 13 January 1960. It would be fair to say that a few eyebrows were raised at the time, including by Lord Mountbatten, as Mr Hicks was not an aristocrat but a (soon-to-be internationally celebrated) interior designer and the son of a stockbroker. They soon set off on honeymoon together aboard the Queen Mary to New York and then onward to the West Indies. Meanwhile, Edwina, who was now suffering from extreme exhaustion and heart problems, set off on a tour on behalf of the Red Cross and the Save the Children Fund only days after the nuptials. Her family and friends-who were all too aware of warnings from doctors of the serious consequences if she continued with her busy pace of life-had pleaded with her not to make the tour or at best to cut it short. She died in Jesselton, North Borneo on 20 February at the age of only 58. Pamela-who had just returned from her honeymoon to be greeted with the dreadful news at the airport by her brother-in-law John- joined her father, sister and other family members at Broadlands to receive the body which had been flown home. As per her own wishes, Edwina was buried at sea from HMS Wakeful. Pamela inherited around 7.5% of her mother’s fortune (80% having gone on tax).

Almost a Royal Wedding: Lady Pamela marries David Hicks in January 1960. The Queen Mother is seated front left and the Queen of Sweden (Louise) and the Duchess of Kent (Marina) are seated front right.

Meanwhile, in October 1960, David Hicks was hailed by the Sydney Morning Herald, during his visit to Australia, accompanied by Pamela, as the ‘Interior designer [that] Has Ideas to Suit all Pockets.’ In December 1961, Pamela gave birth to a daughter, Edwina. She would go on to have two more children, a son Ashley (whose godfathers were Prince Philip and Pamela’s uncle, the King of Sweden) and a daughter India. In March 1962, she and her husband were on a visit to India and dined with Jackie Kennedy who was on a “goodwill visit” at the Maharana’s Palace in Udaipur. She also accompanied David, now described as the master of ‘jet-set chic’ to New York where he had been busy with interior design work at the upmarket St Regis Hotel. He also undertook work for King Fahd of Saudi Arabia and Helena Rubenstein, the cosmetics queen. In 1968, American interior designers were said to be up in arms because the talented designer was consulted by Sargent Shriver and his wife Eunice (nee Kennedy) on interior design changes at the United States Embassy in Paris. Somewhat bitchily, the press noted his ‘soaring career has not been handicapped at all by the fact he is married to Lord Mountbatten’s daughter, Lady Pamela.’ Back in England, Pamela would become mistress of a country home set in 578 acres, Britwell House, Oxfordshire where her husband would subsequently design the most interesting geometrically precise gardens. His company David Hicks Ltd would continue to grow over the years producing wallpaper, fabrics and linens and at one stage had offices in eight countries. Nor was he or Pamela afraid of promoting the work of others: On one occasion they attended an exhibition of the work of the Australian artist Peter Upward at the Rowan Galleries in Belgravia.

In May 1964, Nehru died. Pamela accompanied her father and the British Prime Minister, Sir Alec Douglas-Home to the funeral. In 1965, Lord Mountbatten’s sister, Louise, the Queen of Sweden died in Stockholm. As Dickie was currently in New Zealand undertaking duties in his latest role as Chief of the British Defence Staff, he asked Pamela to represent him at the funeral. Pamela also accompanied her father on visits to the Duke of Windsor in Paris. She recalled they liked to reminisce about England and the past while the Duchess of Windsor was at the hairdresser as such talk ‘bored’ her. While Pamela conceded that ‘Wallis’ was a ‘the best’ at giving parties and her homes were ‘perfection’; she thought too that the Duchess was also basically ‘hard hearted’ and was perplexed as to how the one-time King Edward VIII could give up his throne for her. In 1973, Patricia joined her father in Dallas to promote “British Fortnight” there at the Neiman Marcus department store. They were also present at a Ball to raise funds for one of Lord Mountbatten’s charities, United World Colleges.

In 1978 Pamela and David moved out of their home, Britwell House and sold much of their furniture in a sale at Sotheby’s. She and David moved to a one-time farmhouse nearby called The Grove which was still a substantial residence. It was said that the cost of maintenance and staff at the Britwell House property was proving to be too high. Since the death of Lady Mountbatten, Lord Mountbatten and his family had spent August at a property Edwina had owned, Classiebawn Castle, in County Sligo. As it was in the Republic of Ireland, there had always been security concerns and an increased police presence, but Dickie brushed these off. Sadly on 27 August he was killed by a bomb placed in his fishing boat Shadow V at Mullaghmore’s harbour by the IRA. So too was Pamela’s 14-year-old nephew Nicholas Knatchbull and his paternal grandmother, Doreen, the Dowager Lady Brabourne, who had survived but briefly. Paul Maxwell, a local lad who helped with the boat, was also killed. Lady Patricia, her husband John and their son Timothy (twin of Nicholas) were seriously injured. Pamela and her children had remained behind at Classiebawn and so were uninjured. While there was great pageantry at the funeral of Lord Mountbatten at Westminster Abbey a few days earlier, the joint funeral of Pamela’s 14-year-old nephew and his paternal grandmother Doreen at Mersham was a simple, country affair. Neither Patricia nor her husband John were able to attend as they were still recovering from their dreadful injuries. Prince Philip and the Prince of Wales did attend.

Even although her father was dead, Pamela still undertook engagements to secure his legacy as ‘the greater fixer of all time’. In September 1980, Pamela was at Waterloo Station, along with Patricia, now known as Countess Mountbatten, to attend the naming ceremony of two railway locomotives. Patricia named one “Earl Mountbatten of Burma”; while Pamela’s was called “The Burma Star.” In 1985, she and her sister Patricia and other family members also attended a fund-raising dinner and dance at the prestigious Palm Beach Polo and Country Club to raise further funds for United World Colleges. Two hundred tickets were sold at $350 each.

Lady Pamela was regarded as the “fun” sister.

However, Pamela’s close links to the Royal Family continued when her daughter India was asked to be a bridesmaid at the wedding of the Prince of Wales to Lady Diana Spencer in 1981. David Hicks died in April 1998 at the age of 69. He had suffered a stroke and had only recently been diagnosed with lung cancer. He had previously stated that, ‘My greatest contribution as an interior designer has been to show people how to use bold colour mixtures, now to use carpets patterned carpets, how to light rooms and how to mix old with new.’ Pamela was quoted as saying that ‘He was an absolute volcano to live with, but so life-enhancing.’ She carried on living at The Grove, although a knee replacement in 2014, meant that she had to vacate her “set” of rooms at Albany, in London’ s Piccadilly as their was no lift to whisk her up to her apartment. Her son Ashley took them over.

At her apartment in Albany, Piccadilly in older age but still enjoying life to the full.

In 2012 Pamela wrote her memoirs: Daughter of Empire: Life as Mountbatten. Then in June 2017, Patricia died at the age of 93. Pamela loved her sister dearly and regarded her as ‘the personification of the stiff upper lip.’ Only the now aged Prince Philip and the still active Queen were really left from the early years and she remained close to both as she had throughout their long lives. Their deaths in 2021 (just shy of 100) and 2022 (at 96) respectively were another loosening of the ties from the past. She herself was now in her 90’s and her daughter India produced the most beautiful and well-reviewed book in 2024 Lady Pamela: My Mother’s Extraordinary Years as Daughter to the Viceroy, Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen and, wife of David Hicks. After a long and full life Lady Pamela herself died on 5 June 2026 aged 97. Her funeral-a low key affair as it coincided with the Trooping the Colour in London-was held on 13 June at St Bartholomew’s Church in Bridewell Baldwin. The King did, however, issue a statement: “His Majesty was greatly saddened to learn of the death of Lady Pamela Hicks, a sorrow tempered by the fondest memories and deepest gratitude for her long life and loyal service to Queen Elizabeth.”

Queen Elizabeth II-Child to Heiress Presumptive.

On 21 April 1926, a baby girl was born at 2.40am in a comfortable town house at 17 Bruton Street, in London’s fashionable Mayfair. However, this was no ordinary child-her father was Prince Albert (‘Bertie’) the Duke of York, a second son of the reigning British sovereign, King George V. The infant-who was subsequently christened Elizabeth Alexandra Mary in a ceremony held on 19 May in the private chapel at Buckingham Palace-was currently third in line to the throne.

However the child’s mother, the ever-practical Duchess of York (the daughter of a Scotch peer, Claude Bowes-Lyon, the 14th Earl of Strathmore) was more concerned with supervising the renovations of the York’s new London residence at 145 Piccadilly, close to Hyde Park Corner. This four-storey house was leased from the Crown Estate and had been in a somewhat dilapidated condition. Fortunately, the Duchess had the welcome services of her old nanny, Mrs Clara (‘Alla’) Knight to watch over the new-born child. Forty-two year-old Mrs Knight had been in service with the Strathmore family since she was seventeen years of age. She was soon joined by an under-nurse, Margaret MacDonald, a twenty-two year old Highlander.

It was fortunate that little Elizabeth had such supportive care, for it was soon announced that the Duke and Duchess of York were to depart by sea for a tour of New Zealand and Australia (where the Duke was to open the country’s new Federal Parliament buildings in Canberra). They departed on 6 January 1927 and did not return until 27 June. The Duchess of York was devastated at the thought of this long separation and onlookers observed that she had struggled to hand her daughter over to the care of Mrs Knight as she departed 17 Bruton Street.

Meanwhile, young Princess Elizabeth was taken to stay at her maternal grandparents’ country home in Hertfordshire, St Paul’s Walden Bury. She was then relocated to Buckingham Palace, where Elizabeth’s paternal grandmother, Queen Mary, reigned supreme. Like her two nurses, the Queen would exercise a strong, and somewhat strict, influence over her granddaughter, whom she saw every day at teatime and referred to as ‘the bambino’. Meanwhile, King George was smitten by his beloved granddaughter (‘sweet little Lilibet’) and he did not even object to her pulling his beard as he crawled along the floor to entertain her.

When the Duke and Duchess of York returned from their six-month tour, they appeared with young Elizabeth both on the balcony at Buckingham Palace as well as at (the now-completed) 145 Piccadilly. The trio received rousing cheers from crowds. Elizabeth ‘s nursery rooms were on the top floor just off a glass-roofed landing, and were composed of a day and a night nursery, a kitchen, a bathroom as well as a bedroom and sitting room for Mrs Knight. By eighteen months, Elizabeth had started to walk and was keen to investigate the contents of the handbags of visitors. The child’s parents spent a lot of time with their daughter: Elizabeth spent thirty minutes with the Duke and Duchess first thing in the morning, subsequently took tea with them in the afternoon, while at bedtime it was the turn of the royal parents to climb the stairs to join their daughter in the nursery for bath time (during which much splashing was heard) followed by pillow fights. While there might have been carefree romps at home, in public the royal couple were keen to keep their first child somewhat in the background, although Elizabeth was invariably spotted as she played in Hamilton Gardens, to the rear of 145 Piccadilly. To satisfy press curiosity, fetching images of the little Princess would be issued from time to time.

Elizabeth of York as a young toddler in party frock.

By the age of three, young Elizabeth was taught self discipline, including the need to be still, with Queen Mary having issued the instruction: ‘Teach that child not to fidget’. Rather a big ask, although the fact that the pockets of Elizabeth’s dresses were sewn up must have helped. She was also shown how to acknowledge the guards who presented arms as she passed in a royal car at one of the royal residences. Meanwhile, the King loved to fuss over his granddaughter. When he was subsequently taken ill with septicaemia (at one stage it was thought that he might die) and spent time recuperating by the seaside at Bognor, Lord Moran, His Majesty’s doctor, thought a visit from Elizabeth would prove the ideal antidote to his growing sense of boredom. It was also around this time that the young child was introduced to riding, receiving the gift of a Shetland pony called Peggy. A groom called Owen supervised her riding lessons.

By early August 1930 the Duchess of York was ensconced at her parents’ Scottish summer home, Glamis Castle, near to Forfar. However, this was not for a holiday. She was about to give birth to her second child. A girl was born on 21 August and would be given the charming name of Margaret Rose, although little Elizabeth is said to have commented to a family friend, Lady Cynthia Asquith, that she would call her ‘Bud’ as ‘she was not a real rose yet, is she? She is only a bud.’ Despite the arrival of a new sister, which was rather unsettling, especially with Mrs Knight now heavily involved with the care of the new-born, Elizabeth was not detracted from pursuing her love for all things equine. The King had noticed this and regularly gave his granddaughter gifts of toy horses. The collection was ‘stabled’ on the top floor landing of 145, each with its own saddle and bridle. Each evening, before she went to bed, Elizabeth would carefully remove the saddles. Unsurprisingly, horse stories such as the tales of ‘Black Beauty’ were a firm favourite with the youngster.

It was at this stage in Lilibet’s life that Margaret MacDonald came more to the fore. ‘Bobo’ MacDonald moved from her quarters in the basement of the house into Elizabeth’s room in order to give her a sense of security during this time of change. A further development was the arrival in September 1932 of a Miss Marion Crawford, a young Scotswoman from Dunfermline with a university degree. Like Mrs Knight, she had links to the Strathmore family, having previously worked as governess for the children of the Duchess of York’s older sister, Lady Rose Leveson Gower. ‘Crawfie’, who was amazed to find that Elizabeth could already read, having been taught by her mother, would soon become a favourite with her royal charge despite being keen to adhere to firm instructions from Queen Mary on what to teach her granddaughter, with a firm emphasis on history, geography and English. Queen Mary also insisted that Elizabeth study the bible and prayers were to be said before bedtime. A Belgian aristocrat, Madame de Bellaigue was also brought in to instruct the young Princess in the French language. Lessons were held in the Duchess of York’s private sitting room, with a break in the morning for elevenses. However, life was not all about education-there were also afternoon dancing lessons, as well as outings to the Bath Club (to learn to swim). Elizabeth also loved to attend the Horse Show at Olympia or enjoy a Christmas pantomime. Eventually, the Royal Military Tattoo at Earls Court was another regular treat added to the list. Meanwhile, Elizabeth had developed a wonderful gift for mimicry which would stay with her throughout her long life. She even dared to mimic her grandmother, Queen Mary, although Shirley Temple was a safer choice!

By this time, the family were spending weekends at Royal Lodge, a royal residence in Windsor Great Park. Two new wings were added to the existing building, including a nursery. Here the children could relax in the garden and play or watch the birds (said to include fifteen blue budgerigars) in the aviary which had recently been constructed. However, the item which gave the most fun was a specially scaled down cottage given to Lilibet from the people of Wales, known by the Welsh name, Y Bwthyn Bach, or Little Cottage. The Princess and her sister loved to ‘play house’ in the kitchen which featured a working cooker and fridge. All the furniture in the cottage was of a size suitable for young children. Occasionally, the King and Queen Mary would travel over from nearby Windsor Castle to take tea and admire the garden which was the Duke of York’s pride and joy.

But by the mid-1930’s all was not well in the British Royal Family. The Prince of Wales (or Uncle David to his niece Elizabeth) was giving cause for concern. Dashing but mercurial, he was adored by the British people, as well as of those countries he had visited during his extensive world-wide tours. The York sisters often played card games with their uncle after tea, including Snap or Racing Demon and Uncle David also gifted Elizabeth a cairn terrier puppy. Their grandmother, Queen Mary was keen that her eldest child should now marry (born in 1896, he was just shy of forty). However, the Prince, who had in the past enjoyed liaisons with a Mrs Freda Dudley-Ward and an American Thelma, Lady Furness, had now developed a close bond with a Mrs Wallis Simpson who hailed from Baltimore. A defiant David seemed besotted with this twice-married American. Not for nothing did an ailing King George V confide to a friend that ‘I pray that nothing will come between Bertie, Lilibet and the throne.’ Elizabeth was certainly becoming better known among the general population: On 6 May 1935, she and Margaret Rose had been the focus of much attention when they travelled together in their parent’s carriage down the Mall in matching rosebud pink outfits during King George V’s Silver Jubilee celebrations.

In December 1935, the Royal Family, including the Prince of Wales, gathered for Christmas at Sandringham , the royal estate in Norfolk. As the new year dawned, the York family headed back to London. However, the King’s health declined rapidly and on 16 January 1936, the Duke of York bid his family a fond farewell, as he had been summoned back to Sandringham. While the King drifted in and out of consciousness, in London the Duchess of York was laid low with ‘flu. King George V died around 11.55pm on the evening of 20 January. It was later revealed that the King’s doctor, Dawson of Penn, had injected morphia and cocaine into his jugular vein ‘to preserve the King’s dignity’. None of the Royal Family were aware of his actions. Elizabeth’s Uncle David now reigned as King Edward VIII. The Duke of York was now heir to the throne, with Elizabeth the next (second) in line. During this final period of their grandfather’s life, Elizabeth and her sister had been in residence at Royal Lodge. However, Miss Crawford brought them up to 145 Piccadilly on 22 January. Crawfie would later write that nine-year-old Elizabeth ‘felt it all deeply.’ As she groomed one of her toy horses, she wondered out loud, ‘Oh Crawfie….Ought we to play?’

Given her new position in the succession to the throne, the Duke of York was keen that Elizabeth should be brought to the station to view the arrival of the King’s coffin in London from Sandringham. Her father also decided she should attend the late King’s lying-in-state at Westminster Hall. The young Princess cut a somewhat serious figure as she emerged with her parents from their royal limousine dressed in a black coat and velvet bonnet. Meanwhile, Margaret, was left behind at 145 Piccadilly to amuse herself as best she could. The divergence of their future life was already en train. While Margaret was alert, clever and ever-ready with a quick response, Elizabeth was studious, serious, good mannered and dignified.

Yet, always in the background was Mrs Simpson. Elizabeth would actually meet Mrs Simpson in the spring when her Uncle David brought his paramour to Royal Lodge one afternoon, in order to show his brother Bertie a new American station wagon he had purchased. They all later took tea together. The atmosphere was somewhat strained and the ever-curious Elizabeth asked Miss Crawford, ‘Who is she?’ Soon thereafter, the King would took Mrs Simpson on a summer cruise in the Mediterranean aboard the steam yacht Nahlin. By contrast, the York family would holiday as usual in Scotland, both at the Strathmore’s Glamis Castle and at Birkhall, a country house some miles distant from Balmoral Castle. But even here, amidst the mountains, rivers and lochs of Royal Deeside, there was no escaping the growing tensions, especially when Uncle David subsequently arrived at Balmoral with a party which subsequently included Mrs Simpson. To compound matters, when the Duke and Duchess of York went over to the Castle for dinner one evening, they found the American acting as hostess. The Duchess swept passed her with the steely words, ‘I have come to dine with the King.’ She was probably still furious that on the day of Mrs Simpson’s arrival, the King had sent the York’s, at the last minute, to Aberdeen to stand in for him at the opening a new wing of the Royal Infirmary. Meanwhile he was spotted arriving at the city’s station to meet Mrs Simpson off the train from the south. Indeed, the Duchess of York, who was almost at the end of her tether, was moved to write to Queen Mary to say ‘the whole situation is complicated and horrible.’

Shortly thereafter, Mrs Simpson was to divorce her husband on the grounds of his adultery. Speculation was now rife, particularly in the American press, that the King intended to marry the American as soon as she was legally free to do so. The Duke of York and his wife were increasingly aware of these reports. However, even they must have been taken aback when, between 16 and 17 November, the King informed first his mother, then his brothers, that he was prepared to abdicate in order to marry Mrs Simpson. Finally, on 10 December, King Edward VIII signed the Instrument of Abdication. The following day, a great mass of people stood outside both Buckingham Palace and 145 Piccadilly waiting for news. The young Princess Elizabeth must have wondered what was afoot, especially when her father had been so often absent over the previous few days, either at Fort Belvedere or Royal Lodge during the final abdication negotiations. However, now that he had returned to London, 145 Piccadilly had become the centre of royal affairs. The constant stream of dignitaries who called on her father only served to highlight the impending transfer of power. Although Elizabeth asked Miss Crawford what was happening, the Scotswoman had remained silent. Yet Crawfie knew exactly what was on the cards, as the Duchess, laid low with ‘flu, had asked her to her bedroom to inform the Scotswoman of the ‘great changes’ ahead. Further clues were now everywhere: Elizabeth noticed a letter on the hall table which was addressed to ‘Her Majesty the Queen.’ She asked Lady Cynthia Asquith, who was visiting, ‘That’s Mummy now isn’t it?’ Furthermore, outside, some of the crowd were already shouting ‘Long Live King Albert,’ as this was the title that many supposed the new king might take.

Friday 11 December was the day when Princess Elizabeth formally became Heiress Presumptive to the throne, with her father becoming King the moment that Parliament ratified the Instrument of Abdication. Next day, the Accession Council met at St James’s Palace and Bertie was publicly proclaimed as King George VI. On his return to 145 Piccadilly, both Elizabeth and Margaret swept him a beautiful curtsey. He stood for a moment touched and taken aback. Then he stooped and kissed both his daughters warmly. A few days later the family left to spend Christmas at Sandringham.

The Heiress Presumptive (centre front) waves to the crowd on the day of King George VI’s Coronation.

On 17 February 1937, Princess Elizabeth moved into Buckingham Palace and on 12 May 1937 she attended the Coronation of her father, as well as the crowning of her mother as Queen Consort. A new future beckoned….

Royal Visit of King Christian IX to Iceland in 1874

In July of 1874, King Christian IX of Denmark and Iceland and his son Prince Valdemar paid a Royal Visit to Iceland to commemorate the discovery and habitation of the island one thousand years earlier. The visit was of particular note not only because of the long and arduous journey which it entailed, but it was also the first time that a reigning King of Denmark and Iceland had visited this part of his Kingdom. Furthermore, opinion in Iceland was divided with Icelandic nationalists, such as Jón Sigurdsson, set on a ‘national revival’ and independence from Denmark, while others preferred to maintain the status quo. Nonetheless, in 1848 19 delegates of the consultative assembly (Alþingi) (re)established by the decree of Christian VIII a few years earlier, had requested that the King now permit a parliament to be formed which had powers similar to the Danish Parliament in Copenhagen. In 1867, 1869 and 1871 the Danish government had submitted draft constitutions to the assembly but no agreement had yet been reached. However, as shall be seen, King Christian IX would bring a rather special “gift” to commemorate his “millennium” visit.

In anticipation of the Icelandic tour, the Marshal of the Royal Court in Copenhagen was kept busy over several months making plans for the long trip by sea, ensuring that their were sufficient supplies for the journey there and back, a period of many weeks, as well as provisions to sustain the royal party during their stay ashore: As the King also intended to undertake a round of official entertaining of his Icelandic subjects, the cargo included a good supply of meat and wine, as well as crockery and glassware.

The royal duo departed Friedrichshafen, Denmark on the evening of 21 July travelling aboard the Danish Royal Navy frigate Jylland. Accommodation had been arranged for the King which included the use of a newly refurbished bedroom (with water closet) and sitting room. The corvette Hjemdal provided an escort and between them the two ships were manned by a total crew of 650. There were some very rough seas en route, as the ships bypassed the Shetland islands, off the north coast of Scotland and sailed onwards to the Faroe Islands, the first stop of the tour on 25 July (and another territory of Denmark). Although the visit was brief (lasting only two days) and the Mayor was taken ill (and subsequently died), the Faroese gave their Sovereign a very warm welcome, both at sea (when some fifty ships sailed out to accompany the royal ship into harbour) and subsequently as King Christian and Prince Valdemar landed at the main settlement at Tórshavn. It was certainly a memorable occasion for the locals as this was the first time that a Danish King had set foot on these northern islands which were situated some 350 kilometres north of Scotland. The American press-who were shadowing the King on this tour of the Faroes and Iceland in a steamer flying the Stars and Stripes from the foremast (and the Danish flag from the Mainmast), showed a keen interest and filed a report stating that ‘every vessel in the harbor [sic] and every house in town are flying the Danish flag.’ The King visited the Løgting, said to be the oldest parliament in the world, attended a church service (packed to the rafters with curious parishioners) and invited a large party of locals onboard the Jylland where they were royally entertained. The Faroe islanders-who had their own distinctive culture and language-were equally keen to entertain their King and an evening feast was held on the second evening of the visit, during which locals gave a spirited display of traditional dances. As the royal party departed the Faroes on 27 July, King Christian was also touched to be serenaded in a song composed by the Lutheran pastor and songwriter P. Alberg Holm (who had a Faroese mother) which concluded with the words ‘The Faroese have greeted their Lord.’

If anything, the 750 kilometre royal journey from the Faroes Islands to Iceland was even more eventful, with anything not lashed down in the Jylland flung from side to side by the rough seas. Nor were the sailors guaranteed a good sleep as it required all their strength and determination to remain in their bunks. It must therefore have been a particular relief to reach the Icelandic capital of Reykjavik at 2 pm on 30 July. This time the welcome was even more impressive as in addition to the cheers from the local populace (the city had a population of 16,000), visiting warships from Sweden, Germany, France, Norway and Denmark provided a mighty royal gun salute; while a beautifully decorated arch of honour had been erected on the pier and a choir sang a selection of welcoming songs.

The King and his son were greeted by the Town Corporation (led by the Mayor) and other local dignitaries. His Majesty had indicated that he did not wish the authorities to prepare a long Address; although a compromise was reached with a short speech of welcome. King Christian was informed that ‘Iceland is a poor country, considering the scarcity of its inhabitants and the condition of their material comforts; but if regard be had to the memories of the past thousand years, then Iceland is a wealthy country and it abounds no less in loyal faith and love to Your Majesty. Our Millennial festivity therefore becomes doubly glorious both by Your Majesty’s presence and participation therein and by the Free Constitution wherewith it has pleased Your Majesty to inaugurate this jubilee.’ King Christian replied that there had never been any doubt as to the sincerity of the attachment of the Icelanders to their Sovereign. Indeed, it was a matter of ‘great joy’ to him to be among his Icelandic people and he trusted that the new constitution (promulgated on 5 January but coming into effect during the visit) which he brought with him would ‘prove to be a powerful aid to the intellectual and material development’ of Iceland and its people. The latter responded with cheers and cries of ‘Long Live our King Christian IX’, with the women present waving freshly laundered white handkerchiefs in greeting. Meanwhile, the sailors on board the Jylland and the Hjemdal, aided by the many locals, spent around many hours transferring supplies ashore continuously over the next ten days. Matters were not helped by the fact that there were no roads to speak off and no carriages or wagons for transporting the goods.

The day following his arrival, the King and Prince Valdemar set out on horseback to view salmon farms which were teeming with the ray-finned fish. Then, on 1 August, the Christian visited Havnefjord (Hafnarfjörður) to inspect the laying of Iceland’s first road. A young poet, Carl Andersen, would act as an interpreter for the King during the visit as and when required. On 2 August, a Sunday, special solemn services were held in churches throughout Iceland. Bishop Pétur Pétursson chose the text which was to be used from Psalm 90. The royal party attended church in the Cathedral in Reykjavik, the King’s pew decorated for the occasion with flowers. The service and the readings were in Icelandic but nonetheless made a memorable impression on the visitors, as did the choir of men and women who sung so movingly. The National Song or Anthem Ó, Guð vors Lands (Oh! God of Our Country) composed by Sveinbjörn Sveinbjörnsson was first sung on this occasion. After the service, a large banquet was held attended by the local governor and other officials. Then, as it was summer, and there was almost constant daylight, a public festival took place in a local square at Öskjuhlíð, with dancing as well as songs and speeches in Icelandic and Danish. This pleased His Majesty who was keen to involve as many islanders as possible during his visit.

Having focused on the coastal capital area, the King and Prince Valdemar, accompanied by the Governor and other gentlemen then departed on 3 August for a journey into the geyser-filled interior. This involved a two-day trek. 250 horses were made available for this trip and these were placed under the supervision of six attendants to keep them in line. In addition, a guide went in front to lead the way, while another kept to the rear to ensure there were no stragglers among an additional ninety packhorses which were loaded with supplies for the royal party. These included forty tents, bedding, food and other provisions. A highlight of this visit was the sight of the impressive Stokkur geyser, east of Reykjavik, close by the Hvítá River. This could reach a height of around 40 metres (130 feet).

The King hands over the new Constitution in 1874 at the National Festival at Thingveller (Þingvellir), sight of Iceland’s ancient parliament.

After climbing to higher ground on 5 August, the royal party set out early on the morning of 6 August for eleven hours of strenuous riding to the Thingveller (Þingvellir) plain, located some 50 kilometres from the capital. It was at the latter place, the site of the first ancient Norse parliament in 930AD, that His Majesty was almost overcome by the sight of what has been described as ‘the largest crowd’ ever to have gathered at that time in Iceland, the vast majority who had travelled on horseback from a distance, necessitating the bringing of tents, food and other requisites. These loyal subjects had set up a camp close to the local Thingveller Church to participate in this National Festival. Meanwhile, the London Illustrated News had engaged their “Special Artist” Mr. Melton Prior to provide images of the tour.

It was at Thingveller (Þingvellir), on the morning of 7 August, that the King was to hand over his “gift” to the Icelanders a new Constitution. However, firstly, His Majesty received a Loyal Address in Icelandic on behalf of those gatheredm which nonetheless emphasised Iceland’s determination to assert its right to a national existence, while at the same time offering up a fervent prayer for the King and members of the Royal House. As King Christian handed over the historical document, he replied that he gladly accepted the loyal assurances of the people and that expressed the hope that the new Constitution, when put to a practical test, would operate beneficially for the good of the people. Certainly, the 1874 Constitution, as it would become known, was of particular significance as it granted Iceland a degree of self-determination and autonomy, including the establishment of a legislature. It was noted that the King was to continue to maintain the ability to appoint a Governor and laws relating to internal matters could now be passed by the new Legislative Assembly (the Alþingi) with the King retaining a power of veto. This legislative body would have an Upper and Lower House, partly elected by the people and partly nominated by the King. Of particular relevance was that the new Constitution gave Iceland a modern form of government by the standards of the time as well as the establishment of a Free Press, a taxation system and an elementary education. The journal Illustreret Tidende stated (somewhat optimistically) that the Icelandic constitutional struggle had now ended. More prescient was the view that this was the beginning of the ‘long and winding road’ towards Icelandic independence. Indeed, in 2003, during a visit by his Danish counterpart, the Prime Minister of Iceland would reflect that the 1874 constitution was ‘considered to be one of the great milestones in the Icelandic nation’s struggle for independence. In fact, it laid the foundation of the country’s history on which all subsequent actions were built.’

At the conclusion of the handover ceremony, the King partook of a large breakfast in a large “state tent” filled with dignitaries and foreign representatives. A toast-in Danish-was raised to ‘the health of His Majesty’ (this raised a loud cheer from all those assembled). The King thereafter replied that he would ensure that his son and grandchildren would learn the Icelandic language which he sincerely regretted not being able to speak himself (this drew another cheer). Meanwhile, many institutions including the University of Copenhagen, the Danish Society of Antiquaries, the Danish Academy of Fine Arts, the University of Uppsala, the University of Kristiania (today’s Oslo) and the people of the Faroe Islands had sent formal congratulatory messages to the people of Iceland on the reaching of such a historical milestone. Thereafter, as he prepared to make his departure for the long trek back to the capital, King Christian moved among his people, talking to as many as possible. Most would of those gathered would remain to enjoy an afternoon of feasting and festive displays. Later, as the King ascended the pass which led out of the valley, His Majesty stopped briefly and turned to acknowledge those on the plain below. This drew a loud cheer from the crowd which continued until he had disappeared out of sight.

A Stone with the cipher of King Christian IX and the date 1874 commemorates this historic royal visit to the geyser at Stokkur .

When the King subsequently returned with the Royal Party to Reykjavik, following a day of rest, the municipality held a Ball on the Sunday evening in Christian IX’s honour, the hall in which it was held was decorated with a plethora of potted plants, most of which were grown, of necessity, either indoors or under glass. The King later took a walk through the nearby streets, speaking to locals and the better to take in the view in the late summer sunshine.

The Royal Visit concluded on the evening of 10 August with a Ball aboard the deck of the Jylland, which was festooned with lanterns and a selection of candelabra for illumination. In addition to notables such as the Governor and his wife, the officers of the escorting Danish ship and of the various international naval ships in the harbour were invited. Then, just prior to 11pm, the guests departed and the Jylland slipped out of the harbour around midnight, suitably transformed from a fairy-tale ballroom to a hardy seagoing vessel. On board was an interesting “passenger”. During the trip inland, a farmer Eiríkur Ólafsson was given the responsibility for selecting a suitable horse for Prince Valdemar, to whom the latter became very attached. In a kind gesture, the farmer gave the horse to the young prince as a gift. The following day the Jylland and the Hjemdal made their way along the south coast of Iceland before travelling southwards.

Officers and crew of the Danish Royal Navy Frigate Jylland.

However, for King Christian IX, the trip was not altogether over. As the King ‘s daughter, Alexandra, who was married to the heir to the British throne, the Prince of Wales and was currently on holiday in Scotland, it was arranged that the Jylland would dock at the Port of Leith, close to Scotland’s capital city of Edinburgh. The royal party had originally planned to disembark by launch at nearby Granton but stormy weather necessitated the change of venue. The King and Prince initially travelled by carriage to the Douglas Hotel where His Majesty later received the Lord Provost of Edinburgh (the Scotch equivalent of a Lord Mayor). While appreciating this welcome, King Christian was keen to emphasise that this was a purely private occasion and that formalities should be kept to a minimum. In the afternoon, the royal party, who now included Princess Alexandra, drove out to Dalkeith Palace, the home of the Duke of Buccleuch, one of Scotland’s senior peers, passing through the historical King’s Gate. Although the Duke was absent, the royal entourage were given a tour of the ducal property by one of the caretakers. In the palace’s portrait gallery, the Danish King and his children admired a portrait by the artist Jamieson of Anne of Denmark, the second daughter of King Frederik II of Denmark and Consort of King James VI of Scotland (from 1603, following the Union of the Crowns, James also ruled over England as King James I). Another royal outing by the royal trio during the visit was to the Theatre Royal to view the play “She Stoops to Conquer.” The press noted that the theatre had doubled the prices such was the demand to be present at such a rare royal outing in the capital.

King Christian was saluted in the Scottish newspapers as a ‘laborious and upright monarch’, His Majesty and Prince Valdemar spent four days in Scotland and made excursions to areas of beauty, of which there were many. Then, on 20 July, Alexandra joined her father and brother aboard the Jylland for the return journey to Denmark. On 23 August, the Jylland reached Vebaek in North Zeeland, where a flotilla of fourteen steamships, with some 6,000 passengers (other sources say 10,000) on board, had come out to greet the royal party in the Sound. Subsequently, the Queen of Denmark, the Crown Prince and the Crown Princess and Princess Thyra sailed out to the Jylland for an emotional reunion. On their return to shore, a crowd of 50,000 lined the streets to cheer the King as he returned to Amalienborg. The historic journey was now at end.

King Christian IX could now reflect on a wonderful visit to his two distant territories as well as the warmth and kindness he had encountered among his northern peoples.

Princess Désirée of Sweden-A Tribute

Princess Désirée was born on 2 June 1938 at Haga Palace, the third daughter of Hereditary Prince Gustaf Adolf and his German-born wife Princess Sibylla. Princess Désirée was said to have been named after King Karl XIV Johan’s consort. She was christened at Solna Church and initially grew up at Haga Palace, on the outskirts of Stockholm, together with her older siblings Princess Margaretha and Princess Birgitta.

Princess Désirée (far left) with her parents and sisters.

There was to be a five-year gap between Désirée and the youngest of the so-called Haga Princesses (or Hagasessorna) Princess Christina, who was born in August 1943. However, a major event in the life of all the sisters was the arrival of brother, Carl, in April 1946. Despite the age difference, the siblings would remain close.

Princess Désirée, far left, with her sisters and brother Carl.

However, the family’s somewhat idyllic life at Haga Palace was soon dealt a severe blow when their father Gustaf Adolf was killed in an aircraft accident in Copenhagen in 1947, en route home from a hunting holiday in the Netherlands. Princess Sybilla was naturally devastated. Désirée’s father’s death was never spoken about by her mother, which must have been hard and it often fell to the children’s nanny, Ingrid “Nenne” Björnberg to help pick up the pieces. “Nenne” would later describe Désirée “as the fairy tale itself, full of fantasies and reflections, dreamy, humorous and playful.”

Princess Désirée was educated privately at the Royal Palace in a small class with girls of the same age. Indeed, the Royal Palace would subsequently become home to Princess Sybilla and her children. Perhaps the change of scene proved helpful. Meanwhile at the Royal Family’s summer residence at Solliden, the sisters had a playhouse where they could indulge themselves in cooking and baking, albeit on a scaled-down basis.

Like any child, Princess Désirée enjoyed many pastimes. She attended ballet lessons and learned the piano. As with many Swedish children she also learned to ski. In 1950, Princess Désirée enrolled at the Franska Skolan [French School] in central Stockholm where she particularly enjoyed needlework and drawing. Then, in 1955, she travelled to Switzerland for a brief spell at a finishing school, the Institut Alpin Videmanette at Château d’Oeux. This was followed by a course in infant care at the Sällskapet Barnavård [Society for Child Welfare]. She later graduated in 1960 from the Social Pedagogical Seminary as a kindergarten teacher, during which she had spells working at a playschool in Stockholm’s Kungsklippan’s and also at Crown Princess Louisa’s Children’s Hospital. She also enjoyed an internship at Tomtebodaskolan [Tomteboda Institute for the Blind].

Désirée then enjoyed a change of direction when in 1962 she undertook a two-year textile course at Konstfack, a long-established college focusing on arts, crafts and design. Here she learned to sketch (or ‘trace’) patterns, embroider and weave tapestries. It must have been around this time that the Princess enjoyed a romance with Count Greger “Teddy” Lewenhaupt, the brother of a friend of Crown Prince Carl. Tragically he was killed in a skiing accident.

In December 1963, the engagement was announced between Princess Desirée and Baron Niclas Silfverschiöld, a landowner who had served in the military and was several years her senior. The couple were married at Stockholm Cathedral on 5 June 1964. As in dynastic terms, this was an unequal marriage, the Princess lost the right to be called Her Royal Highness. The Royal Court announced that Desirée would henceforth be known as “Princess Désirée, Baroness Silfverschiöld”. Most unusually, Princess Desirée wore the same wedding dress as had been worn by her sister, Birgitta, in 1961. The two sisters-who had always been close-had made a pact that they would be married in the same wedding dress.

Wife and Mother: Princess Desirée with her husband and three children circa 1970.

After their marriage, the Silfverschiölds lived at the family’s estate, Koberg at Trollhättanin, Västergötland. The Silfverschiölds had much in common, sharing several interests including horseback riding, skiing and clay pigeon shooting. The couple had three children: Carl ( born in 1965), Christina (1966) and Hélène (1968). Locals were impressed by the Princess’s friendliness: ‘Princess Désirée has always behaved like an ordinary person. She and Niclas always waved when they rode past where we lived as children.’ However, the death of her mother, Princess Sybilla, from cancer, in November 1972, at the age of 64, was a severe loss. She had only recently appeared at a Gala event to commemorate the 90th birthday of King Gustav VI Adolf, who would himself die the following September .

The Princess photographed in a relaxed mood in the 1970’s

Princess Désirée lived a somewhat secluded life, preferring to devote her time to the family, which she valued highly, but sometimes she would attend Nobel award ceremonies. In 1977, she was asked by the King and Queen of Sweden to be godmother to their eldest child, Princess Victoria. Désirée attended her niece’s baptism at the Chapel at the Royal Palace in Stockholm on 27 September. In 1980, Victoria would be created Crown Princess of Sweden. Princess Désirée was also asked by the King to welcome Emperor Akihito of Japan on his arrival in Sweden for a State Visit in 2000.

Désirée was always particularly happy at events pertaining to the extended royal family, particularly if all of her sisters were present. Both Princess Margaretha and Princess Birgitta normally lived abroad, so these meetings were something of an event in themselves.

At the Royal Palace Stockholm at the time of the exhibition ‘Daisy’, left to right, Princess Désirée with her sister Christina, cousin Princess Benedikte of Denmark and Queen Silvia.

In a 2008 interview with Svensk Damtidning Désirée stated bluntly, ‘I now consider myself only mother and wife and attach no great importance to my princessship.’ In 2017, Princess Désirée was widowed following the death of her husband. Yet life went on: The following year, she made an appearance at the christening of her great-niece Princess Adrienne of Sweden. In June 2021, she attended the opening of an exhibition on the life of her British grandmother, Crown Princess Margareta (born Princess Margaret of Connaught) and known to the family as ‘Daisy’. She had died tragically young in 1920 from an infection leaving behind five young children. Their grandfather had never spoken of his first wife, who was adored by the Swedes, yet never lived to become Queen, and this was a belated attempt to celebrate Daisy’s short but eventful life.

In 2023, Désirée was hospitalised at Sahlgrenska University Hospital for several months due to an attack of meningitis. However, she recovered but became increasingly frail in recent times. She died peacefully at her home Koberg Castle, surrounded by her family, on 21 January at the age of 87. Her brother the King spoke of his ‘great sadness’ on hearing of his sister’s death, adding ‘Many are the warm family memories that have been created at the Silfverschiöld family’s home in Västergötland – a place in Sweden that came to mean a lot to my sister,” The King also requested that flags at both Haga Palace and the Royal Palace be flown at half-mast for the day. Now only Princess Margareta and Princess Christina remain out of the four original Haga Princesses.

The last words about Désirée life should perhaps go to the Princess herself: ‘I’m lucky. I’m really grateful that I get to be healthy. And then there is the joy in the children and grandchildren. I love my grandchildren [she had five] and I think they like their grandmother too.’

Reine Marie-José d’Italie

La reine Marie José d’Italie demeure l’une des dames les plus emblématiques des familles royales d’Europe. Pourtant, beaucoup en savent peu sur sa vie, en particulier au-delà du glamour tel qu’il était dépeint autrefois. Comme cet article (ci-dessous) le révèle, il y avait bien plus à cette personne pragmatique, mais ayant un esprit démocratique.

En mai 1946, une grande dame aristocratique passait la journée à aider les sans-abri dans la région de Cassino. Cependant, lorsque un assistant l’a appelée ‘Votre Majesté’, l’individu a soudainement réalisé qu’elle était devenue Reine d’Italie. La dame en question était Marie-José, la fille du feu Roi Albert I des Belges et de sa femme Elisabeth. Mais comment cette situation avait-elle pu se produire?

La princesse Marie-José est née à Ostende en août 1906. Elle était la benjamine des enfants du roi Albert Ier des Belges et de sa consort, née duchesse Élisabeth de Bavière. Par celle-ci, elle était petite-nièce de l’iconique impératrice Élisabeth d’Autriche (‘Sisi’). La princesse a d’abord été élevée au château de Laeken à Bruxelles, avec une maison de campagne à Ciergnon. Alors que les batailles de la Première Guerre mondiale se déroulaient en Europe continentale, elle a passé de nombreuses années de primaire en Angleterre où elle a fréquenté l’Ursuline Convent High School à Brentwood, Essex. Une influence particulière était Mademoiselle Hammersley, une femme anglaise raffinée qui s’occupait de sa protégée. En 1917, Mademoiselle Hammersley accompagnerait Marie-José en Italie où la princesse fréquenta l’Istituto Statale della Santissima Annunziata à Florence. Les cours étaient traditionnellement enseignés ici en italien, anglais et allemand.

Avec l’arrivée de la paix, la princesse Marie-José retournerait à Bruxelles où, en 1919, elle s’inscrivit à l’Institut Sacré-Cœur à Linthout sous la direction de la Mère Supérieure Jacquemin. Elle y resterait jusqu’à l’âge de dix-huit ans et bénéficierait d’une éducation catholique de bonne qualité.

Un visiteur au port d’Anvers en Belgique à l’automne 1922 était Umberto, le Prince de Piémont et héritier du trône d’Italie. Il est arrivé à Anvers à bord du navire Ferruccio pour représenter officiellement l’Italie à l’inauguration d’un nouveau canal. Il a été accueilli par Marie-José et ses frères. La princesse a ensuite été montrée sur le navire par Umberto (qu’elle avait rencontré plusieurs années auparavant en Italie) et a été impressionnée par son apparence bronzée, ses cheveux d’un noir jais et son élégant uniforme militaire blanc. Ce fut une brève rencontre, au cours de laquelle les visites du Prince de Piémont à Rhodes, Benghazi et Tripoli ont été discutées. Il devait y avoir une étincelle suffisante entre eux, car le septembre suivant, la famille royale belge a été invitée pour une visite d’un mois au château de Racconigi près de Turin. Bien que des devoirs militaires et officiels aient signifié qu’Umberto n’a fait qu’une seule brève apparition, cela a donné à Marie-José un aperçu de la vie au sein de la Maison de Savoie. Cette visite a également dû s’avérer fructueuse car l’année suivante, la mère d’Umberto, la reine Elena, a écrit pour dire à une amie en Belgique qu’elle continuait à espérer une union entre son fils et la princesse Marie-José.

Ainsi, en janvier 1930, à la suite d’une longue romance, la princesse avait épousé Umberto, le prince de Piémont, dans la chapelle historique Paolina du palais du Quirinal à Rome. Au départ, Marie-José et Umberto vivaient au palais royal de Turin. Cependant, contrairement à son mari plus respectueux (qui appelait toujours son père, le roi Victor Emmanuel, ‘Majesté’), la princesse belge était beaucoup plus une âme libre. Elle préférait organiser des soirées musicales passionnantes et travailler avec la Croix-Rouge plutôt que d’observer une étiquette de cour stricte. Dès le départ, Marie-José était également passionnée par l’étude de l’histoire de la Maison de Savoie, dans laquelle elle s’était mariée.

**Le prince et la princesse de Piémont le jour de leur mariage**

Cependant, un déménagement à Naples, en novembre 1931 (où Umberto avait été nommé Commandant de la 25e Infanterie), devait s’avérer fortuit. Le couple pouvait échapper aux confins du Palais Royal de la ville pour des week-ends de détente à la Villa Rosebery dans la banlieue balnéaire de Posillipo. Marie-José se sentait également plus émancipée parmi les Napolitains heureux et détendus : elle jouait au tennis trois fois par semaine à la Villa Communale et avait établi un Réfectoire Public pour nourrir les pauvres de la ville. Épanouie et amoureuse, elle décrivit plus tard cette époque comme ‘les meilleures années de notre mariage.’ L’apogée de sa joie fut la naissance d’une fille bien-aimée, Maria Pia, le 24 septembre 1934.

Pourtant, c’était aussi une période difficile. Le père de Marie-José, le roi Albert, est mort dans un accident d’escalade pendant sa grossesse et on lui a conseillé de ne pas voyager en Belgique pour les funérailles. Puis, en août 1935, sa chère belle-sœur suédoise, la reine Astrid, a été tuée dans un horrible accident de voiture en Suisse. Toujours en arrière-plan, il y avait aussi les machinations troublantes du gouvernement d’extrême droite de Mussolini, ou plus précisément son invasion de l’Éthiopie en octobre 1935. Bien que la Princesse ait de graves réserves sur les actions et les politiques d’Il Duce, elle s’est débrouillée en essayant d’être d’une utilité pratique. Marie-José a été formée comme infirmière et a suivi un cours en médecine tropicale. Son travail à l’hôpital lui vaudra bientôt le titre de ‘Soeur Marie-José.’ Lors d’une tournée des troupes italiennes en Afrique en 1936, la Princesse a été troublée par les mauvaises installations et le moral bas des troupes. Elle était également indignée par la machine de propagande de Mussolini, qui la décrivait de manière provocante, mais inexacte, comme l’ ‘Impératrice de Éthiopie ‘

Avec le passage du temps, Marie-José déplorait la proximité croissante d’Il Duce avec Hitler. Cela entraînerait finalement une confrontation, lorsque la Princesse décida que les bénéfices de ses concerts de collecte de fonds à Naples devraient être donnés à son ‘Fonds de travail de la Princesse de Piémont’ plutôt qu’au ‘Fonds national de travail’ du Fasciste. Un des principaux bénéficiaires de la générosité de son Fonds était ‘l’Association nationale pour le sud de l’Italie’, une région plus pauvre, qui était supervisée par l’éminent archéologue et anti-fasciste, Umberto Bianco. Le régime fasciste à Rome était furieux. Ils n’étaient pas non plus enchantés par l’association de Marie-José avec des ‘libéraux’ tels que l’archevêque de Naples, le cardinal Alessio Ascaresi et le philosophe Benedetto Croce, dont la maison fut perquisitionnée par des soldats fascistes.

**Marie-José en tant que Princesse de Piémont**

En février 1937, la princesse de Piémont a donné naissance à un fils, Vittorio Emanuele. Elle n’a pas été très heureuse d’apprendre que le Grand Conseil fasciste avait le pouvoir de délibérer sur la capacité d’un héritier à régner et a confronté Mussolini à ce sujet. Il a été déstabilisé par son approche directe, si différente de celle de son beau-père, le roi, que Marie-José considérait comme complaisant dans ses relations avec les fascistes. ‘Un monarque’, a reproché Marie-José à son mari Umberto, ‘doit être là pour tous ses peuples.’ Une rencontre avec Hitler à Naples n’a guère dissuadé son point de vue ‘démocratique’. En effet, en septembre 1938, la princesse a rencontré le héros de la Première Guerre mondiale, le maréchal Pietro Badoglio au château de Racconigi pour discuter d’un plan visant à évincer Mussolini et à persuader le roi Victor Emmanuel ‘discrédité’ d’abdiquer, ouvrant ainsi la voie à un gouvernement anti-fasciste. Cependant, l’accord de Munich du 29 septembre a court-circuité cette tentative.

Lorsque l’Italie a déclaré la guerre à la Grande-Bretagne et à la France, en juin 1940, Marie-José a informé une dame d’honneur que la monarchie en Italie était ‘finie’. Elle était déjà sous le choc des nouvelles de l’invasion de sa patrie, la Belgique, par les forces nazies le 10 mai. En effet, la princesse avait été ‘prévenue’ des intentions de l’Allemagne par un Pape Pie sympatique le 6 mai. Cependant, les tentatives de Marie-José pour alerter le gouvernement belge ont été contrecarrées par l’ambassadeur belge à Rome qui a rejeté l’avertissement comme une ‘rumeur ennemie’.

Quelles que soient ses émotions personnelles, la princesse se concentrait désormais sur l’aide aux personnes dans le besoin. Après la naissance de son troisième enfant, Maria Gabriella, elle passa l’été 1940 à travailler avec la Croix-Rouge sur le Front occidental et organisa même un train-hôpital pour transporter les blessés du Front. En septembre, Marie-José rendit visite à Bruxelles pour des discussions avec son frère, le roi Léopold III, qui avait décidé de vivre l’occupation allemande avec son peuple. Il demanda à sa sœur bien-aimée de rencontrer Hitler pour demander la rapatriement des prisonniers de guerre belges et solliciter des denrées alimentaires indispensables. Encore une fois, la princesse mit de côté ses sentiments individuels pour le bien de sa patrie et rendit visite au Führer à Berchtesgaden le 17 octobre. Il semblait désintéressé, bien que Marie-José persista avec détermination et lui parla des ‘nombreuses souffrances infligées au peuple belge.’ Elle encouragea également son frère à engager un dialogue avec Hitler sur les différentes questions.

**Marie-José en uniforme de la Croix-Rouge.**

Lorsque l’Italie a déclaré la guerre aux États-Unis, en décembre 1941, la princesse avait déjà conclu que sa patrie adoptive ne pourrait pas gagner la guerre. Elle a de nouveau tenté de contacter le Maréchal Badoglio pour lui faire comprendre la nécessité d’éliminer les fascistes et de mettre fin à la guerre. Les événements allaient soutenir son point de vue : à la fin de 1942, l’Italie souffrait de revers militaires en Libye et en Russie. Le Maréchal, cependant, attendait un signal du Roi ‘constitutionnel’ qui, à son tour, cherchait un signal du peuple!

Sans se laisser décourager, la Princesse poursuivit son travail dans les hôpitaux et parmi les sans-abri et les dépossédés, dont le nombre avait considérablement augmenté en raison des bombardements alliés. Marie-José était également touchée par les manifestations d’affection du peuple envers elle lors de ses visites dans ses réfectoires à Rome et Naples. Déjà enceinte de son quatrième enfant, Maria Beatrice, la Princesse cherchait parfois refuge dans des maisons locales lors des bombardements, où elle se voyait offrir du café et, à une occasion, un bouquet de fleurs du jardin.

En revanche, Mussolini semblait distrait et marqué par le souci. L’arrogance avait disparu alors que les défaites de l’Italie s’accumulaient. Lorsque les Alliés ont envahi la Sicile le 10 juillet 1943, le roi Victor Emmanuel, d’habitude indécis, a enfin décidé d’agir et, le 25 juillet, lorsque le Duce est venu à la Villa Savoia du roi pour une audience, il a été arrêté. Il est révélateur que le Duce ait crié : ‘C’est la Princesse de Piémont [le titre royal officiel de Marie-José] qui sera heureuse.’ Il est clair que Mussolini réalisait que cette princesse ‘démocratique’ de Belgique était l’une de ses plus grandes ennemies.

À la suite de la capitulation de l’Italie face aux Alliés le 8 septembre 1943, un officiel de la Maison Royale a rendu visite à Marie-José à son emplacement actuel au Château de Serre dans la vallée d’Aoste et a demandé qu’elle se rende en Suisse. C’était probablement pour sa propre sécurité, alors que les forces allemandes envahissaient désormais l’Italie et occupaient les zones centrales et nordiques. La Princesse et ses quatre enfants se sont d’abord installés à l’Hôtel Excelsior à Montreux, puis ont déménagé à l’Hôtel Montana, à Oberhofen. Son ennemi, Mussolini, avait entre-temps été ‘libéré’ par les Allemands et avait établi la ‘république marionnette’ de Salò. Le Roi et d’autres membres de la famille royale italienne sont restés à Naples, qui a été occupée par les Alliés le 11 octobre. L’Italie a déclaré la guerre à l’Allemagne le 13 octobre.

Bien que Marie-José souhaite désormais rejoindre les forces partisanes pour combattre les forces nazies dans le nord de l’Italie, elle a réalisé que si sa participation était découverte, il pourrait y avoir des représailles pour la population locale. Au lieu de cela, la princesse s’est contentée de faire passer des armes à la frontière suisse pour une utilisation de l’autre côté en Italie. C’était très risqué car elle était sous surveillance constante des autorités suisses et aussi des agents ennemis.

Le 23 janvier 1944, le diplomate italien Gallarati Scotti a rencontré Marie-José à Oberhofen. Il a discuté d’un plan pour installer la princesse comme régente pour son fils, Vittorio Emanuele, et espérer rapprocher la monarchie du peuple. Marie-José était, après tout, considérée comme une démocrate, sans liens avec Mussolini ou son régime fasciste de droite. Cependant, ceux qui étaient actuellement au pouvoir décidèrent que l’autorité royale future devrait plutôt reposer sur son mari Umberto, qui fut nommé Lieutenant-Général du Royaume en juin 1944, avec tous les pouvoirs royaux, suite à la libération de Rome par les Alliés. Ce n’est qu’à la fin avril 1945 que Marie-José retourna en Italie, traversant les Alpes à pied depuis la Suisse, escortée par deux guides de montagne. Des combattants de la résistance communiste lui firent ensuite escorte jusqu’au Château de Sarre. Émouvant, sa présence ultérieure à un Te Deum dans la cathédrale voisine d’Aoste fut accueillie par des applaudissements chaleureux de la part des autres fidèles.

En mai 1945, la princesse déménagea à Turin et ouvrit une cantine de la Croix-Rouge pour aider les sans-abris. Enfin, elle arriva à Rome, voyageant par avion depuis Turin, le 16 juin, pour une réunion tant attendue avec Umberto qu’elle n’avait pas vu depuis deux ans. Pourtant, elle était également hantée par la vue des ruines des villes autrefois vibrantes qu’elle survolait en route. En août, les enfants royaux (qui avaient séjourné à Glion où, à un moment, Maria Pia et Maria Gabriella avaient toutes deux succombé au typhus) rentrèrent également chez eux à Rome. Pendant ce temps, Umberto avait ouvert une aile du Quirinal pour accueillir les sans-abris, alors Marie-José vendit des bijoux pour aider à fournir des fonds nécessaires à l’ouverture d’une autre cantine, ainsi qu’un atelier pour que les femmes locales puissent confectionner des vêtements. Néanmoins, il y avait beaucoup de ceux qui s’opposaient à Umberto, estimant qu’il n’avait pas suffisamment résisté à Mussolini. Umberto décida alors qu’un référendum devrait être organisé sur l’avenir de la monarchie. Celui-ci devait avoir lieu en juin 1946.

En attendant, le roi Victor Emmanuel a abdiqué le 9 mai et est parti en exil à Alexandrie en Égypte. Umberto était désormais roi d’Italie et Marie-José était sa reine consort. Mais pour combien de temps ?

Ironiquement, au moment où l’auxiliaire mentionné ci-dessus, à Cassino, faisait référence à Marie-José en tant que ‘Sa Majesté’, la nouvelle Reine se préparait déjà mentalement à l’exil. Son pressentiment était juste, car après le référendum (au cours duquel elle vota dans une école locale, en soumettant un bulletin de vote blanc), Marie-José fut informée en privé que 54 % des électeurs avaient voté en faveur d’une république. Le Roi ordonna maintenant à sa femme de partir immédiatement pour le Portugal. Mais d’abord, elle s’assura de téléphoner aux responsables de toutes ses œuvres de charité, en soulignant que leur travail devait se poursuivre sous une république.

Le 5 juin, Marie-José et les enfants prirent l’avion de Rome à sa chère Naples et à la Villa Rosebery. Elle demanda à quiconque voulait l’entendre : ‘Pourquoi ne puis-je pas rester ici en tant que citoyenne ordinaire ?’ Cependant, le lendemain matin, elle et sa famille embarquèrent à bord du navire, à destination de Lisbonne. Alors qu’elle regardait la côte italienne disparaître au loin, l’ancienne reine réfléchit : ‘Pour la première fois, je suis libre de toute la fausse apparence et de l’hypocrisie qui m’ont entourée.’ Soudain, son ‘règne’ de moins d’un mois était terminé. Elle devint désormais connue pour la postérité sous le nom de La Regina di Maggio (La Reine de Mai).

Après la confirmation des résultats du référendum, Umberto a ensuite rejoint sa famille dans un domaine à Sintra, la Quinta de Bella Vista. Lui et Marie-José ont trouvé la vie ensemble difficile. Elle a plus tard exprimé sa plainte en disant que ‘Umberto était angoissé, accablé par une souffrance intérieure qu’il ne pouvait pas partager. Cela a commencé à me perturber et m’a mis mal à l’aise dans ma propre maison.’ La fille du couple, la Princesse Maria Pia, a souligné que ses parents étaient des caractères ‘très différents’. Umberto était ‘très sérieux et conscient de son rôle’ tandis que sa mère, ‘aimait rire et marcher seule dans la rue. [Mon père] n’aurait jamais fait cela.’

**La reine Marie-José dans les années 1950**

Les choses dans le mariage sont devenues tendues lorsque Marie-José a reçu une transfusion du mauvais groupe sanguin lors d’une opération de l’appendicite. Elle est tombée immédiatement dans le coma et, lorsqu’elle a repris conscience, il a été découvert que sa vue était gravement altérée en raison d’hémorragies rétiniennes. La Reine s’est rendue en Suisse pour suivre un traitement sous la direction de l’ophtalmologiste Adolphe Franceschetti. Cependant, les dommages se sont révélés permanents et étaient tels que si elle regardait vers le bas, elle ne voyait rien. Marie-José restait désormais éternellement méfiante face aux escaliers. Malheureusement, il s’avérait politiquement inapproprié pour Umberto de suivre sa femme en Suisse et Marie-José, déconcertée par l’apparente incapacité de son mari à réagir à sa situation, supposait qu’il désirait la solitude.

En temps voulu, la Reine acheta un petit château, Merlinge, près de Gy. Son fils Vittorio la rejoignit là-bas, tandis que ses autres enfants lui rendaient visite à intervalles réguliers depuis le Portugal. Elle parlait désormais rarement du passé mais avouait regretter la chaleur de Naples. Ses journées étaient consacrées à des recherches sur la Maison de Savoie, dont elle écrivit plusieurs livres. Un autre intérêt était la musique, ce qui l’amena à établir le Prix International de Composition Musicale Reine Marie-José. Les voyages étaient également une attraction et, accompagnée de sa mère, la Reine Elisabeth des Belges, Marie-José se rendit en Inde (où elle rencontra Nehru) et en Chine.

Dans les années 1980, l’âge rattrapait à la fois Marie-José et Umberto. Ce dernier est décédé en mars 1983, après une longue et douloureuse bataille contre le cancer. Lui et sa femme avaient toujours gardé contact et la Reine le visitait souvent à l’hôpital. Marie-José a continué à se battre, souvent avec douleur et utilisant une canne : En mars 1988, elle a effectué sa première visite en Italie depuis 1946, visitant Aoste pour assister à une conférence historique suivie d’une visite du Palais Royal de Turin et des Archives d’État. Lorsqu’on lui a demandé ce qu’elle pensait des monarchistes italiens, elle a habilement répondu : ‘Je suis une Reine, mais je ne suis pas une Monarchiste.’

À un âge avancé, Marie-José est tombée amoureuse du Mexique lors de ses visites à sa fille Maria Béatrice à Cuernavaca. Elle a ensuite acheté une villa là-bas avec une piscine, dans laquelle elle se baignait tous les jours. La Reine a accueilli une large gamme de visiteurs, y compris son neveu, le roi Albert II des Belges. Bien que le corps de Marie-José puisse maintenant la lâcher, son esprit n’était certainement pas affecté. Maria Béatrice se souvenait de l’esprit ‘jeune’ et de la ‘manière de penser moderne’ de sa mère.

En 1995, dans un esprit réfléchi, Marie-José entreprit une visite en Belgique. L’année suivante, elle décida de retourner vivre en Suisse, cette fois avec son fils, Vittorio Emanuele. Ce dernier organisa une fête en plein air pour célébrer le 90e anniversaire de sa mère le 4 août 1996, un anniversaire qu’elle partageait avec la reine mère du Royaume-Uni, Elizabeth, qui avait six ans de plus. En 1999, Marie-José visita Florence pour recevoir la liberté de la ville et l’année suivante, elle reçut une invitation pour assister aux célébrations du 100e anniversaire de la reine Elizabeth à Londres. Malheureusement, elle était trop fragile pour accepter.

Sa Majesté la Reine Marie-José d’Italie, Princesse de Belgique, est décédée le 27 janvier 2001 à l’Hôpital du Canton de Genève, à l’âge vénérable de 94 ans. Elle avait reconnu des membres de sa famille jusqu’à la fin. Lors de ses funérailles à l’Abbaye de Hautcombe, le 2 février, son cercueil, drapé avec le drapeau belge et les armes de sa chère Maison de Savoie, a été porté par des membres de la famille et des royalties européennes. Son cher chœur Alpini a chanté quelques chansons favorites et l’hymne sarde, ‘Conservat Deu Su Re Sardu’ (chanté à son mariage) a résonné dans l’Abbaye. C’est un témoignage de la personne que, au fil des ans, la Reine est toujours rappelée avec grande affection.

Death of Belgium’s Queen Astrid

**Astrid and Leopold as royal bride and groom.**

On 29 August 1935, some 90 years ago, a most tragic road accident occurred in Switzerland. The driver of the Packard 120 open-topped sports car was none other than King Leopold of the Belgians. Beside him in the passenger seat was his beautiful wife, Queen Astrid. As they journeyed together along the Lucerne to Zurich road, just before the village of Küssnacht, Leopold seemed to lose control of the car as it unexpectedly skidded on the narrow, winding road and rolled down a hill. Astrid was thrown from the vehicle and flung against a tree. She suffered fatal head injuries, including a fractured skull. Leopold was also injured and by the time he reached her, she was already dead (although other sources say she died in his arms).

**The wreckage of the Packard 120 Car being recovered. A complete write-off. Original Photograph by Willy Rogg.**

The news of her death immediately plunged Belgium into deep mourning. Crowds gathered around the newsstands to observe the latest newspaper reports: the front pages of both De Standaard and Le Soir were heavily edged in black as a mark of respect. There was a sense of incredulity that their beloved “Snow Queen” was suddenly no more. Thoughts also turned to her widower husband, Leopold and the couple’s three children, Joséphine-Charlotte, Baudouin and Albert, the latter who had been born only the previous summer. Meanwhile, in her home country of Sweden, the people were also stunned as they remembered this beautiful Swedish princess, with her toothy grin, who had been raised in an unspoilt fashion, in Stockholm, by her parents, Prince Carl, Duke of Västergötland and his Danish-born wife Princess Ingeborg. In Oslo too, Astrid’s older sister, Märtha, the Crown Princess of Norway was also much affected by the news; as was the eldest of the three sisters, Princess Margaretha who had married into the Danish Royal House.

**Princess Astrid of Sweden (far right) with her sisters and mother Princess Ingeborg**.

**Queen Astrid with her older children, Joséphine-Charlotte and Baudouin**

Astrid’s mortal remains were carried by train from Switzerland to Brussels, arriving there on 30 August. A lying-in-state took place at the Royal Palace which would last for three days (although the family actually lived at the Château du Stuyvenberg at Laeken). Meanwhile, Astrid’s parents arrived from Sweden; her mother Princess Ingeborg was photographed in deepest mourning staring forlornly at a bronze statue of her late daughter, now wreathed in flowers as a symbol of respect. Outside, the street lamps were covered in black mourning cloth, flags flew at half-mast and there was a ceremonial fly-past by the Belgian Air Force.

**The funeral procession of Queen Astrid of the Belgians**.

The funeral took place on 3 September. The courtyard of the Royal Palace was covered in wreaths and floral tributes. Astrid’s mother-in-law Queen Elisabeth, with Joséphine-Charlotte at her side, openly wept, as she watched her son Leopold, himself bandaged and injured, walk with his head bowed behind the funeral hearse accompanied by his father-in-law, Prince Carl of Sweden. This was pulled by eight horses, each sporting black plumes attached to their heads. The royal ladies followed behind in carriages. The funeral route was lined by tens of thousands of people, just as it had been nine years before when she arrived in Brussels for the religious marriage service to Leopold, then titled the Duke of Brabant. Indeed, even at this moment, the crowds must have reflected on their stylish Queen, who was always dressed in wonderful couture clothes by Lanvin, Molyneux and Mainbocher, invariably accessorised by her trademark Delly Poelman hats, adorned with ostrich feathers and rich velvet, the outfits completed by hand made court shoes. Fortunately, over the years, the Belgian photographer Robert Marchand had taken many images of Astrid both en famille and for official purposes.

In keeping with tradition, Queen Astrid was interred in the Royal Crypt in the Church of Notre-Dame de Laeken. This would become a place of pilgrimage even many decades later. It is a measure of the esteem and love in which Queen Astrid was held, that in November 2005, an exhibition of her life ” Astrid et nous: regards croisés”, took place to commemorate the centenary of her birth. This was organised by the l’Association Royale Le Musée de la Dynastie at the BELvue Museum in the Place des Palais. Such was the demand from the public, that the exhibition was extended for a further six weeks. It was filled with many personal mementos, including Astrid’s recipe books, written in French (but with the thumbnails annotated in her native Swedish) as well as postcards sent to family members for her travels overseas to the Far East and Africa.

Astrid’s legacy has lived on through her children and grandchildren. Both Baudouin and Albert would hold the titles of King of the Belgians. In due course her grandson, Albert’s eldest son, Philippe, would accede to the throne following the abdication of his father in July 2013 (for health reasons). In 1953, Joséphine-Charlotte married Hereditary Grand Duke Jean of Luxembourg, who in 1964 succeeded his mother, Grand Duchess Charlotte, to become Grand Duke of Luxembourg. As at the time of writing, another of Astrid’s grandsons, Henri, is the present Grand Duke of Luxembourg.

La reine mère Hélène rentre en Roumanie 2019

Lors d’un matin sombre à l’aéroport international de Genève, un cercueil, recouvert d’un drapeau royal, a été chargé à l’arrière d’un avion de transport militaire roumain. Le cercueil contenait les restes mortels de Sa Majesté la Reine Mère Hélène de Roumanie, Princesse de Grèce et du Danemark et la Princesse grecque senior de sa génération. Hélène est la dernière (et probablement l’une des dernières) membres d’une famille royale d’un ancien pays du bloc de l’Est dont les restes ont été rapatriés.

**Hélène** **Princesse héritière de Roumanie**

Au moment de sa mort le 29 novembre 1982, la reine mère Hélène vivait dans un appartement à Lausanne. Étant donné que la Roumanie était alors dirigée par un dictateur communiste, Nicolae Ceaușescu, qui n’aurait certainement pas permis l’inhumation d’un membre de l’ancienne famille royale du pays dans son fief, une parcelle avait été achetée au cimetière de Boix-de-Vaux à Lausanne comme lieu de repos pour Hélène. Pourtant, elle ne devait pas être seule : le mari de la cousine d’Hélène, la princesse Olga, le prince Paul de Yougoslavie, y avait déjà été inhumé après sa mort en 1976 comme avaient été les restes mortels de son fils le prince Nicolas qui était mort dans un accident de voiture en Angleterre en 1954 (son corps avait été amené du cimetière près de la maison de feu sa tante, la princesse Marina, à Iver et réinhumée à Lausanne à la demande de la princesse Olga). En 1997, la princesse Olga a elle-même été enterrée au Bois-de-Vaux à la suite de sa mort à l’âge de 93 ans.

Cependant, suite à la ‘réhabilitation’ du prince Paul par la Haute Cour serbe en 2011, lui, Olga et les corps de Nicolas ont été exhumés et enterrés à nouveau, avec grande cérémonie, dans la crypte du Mausolée royal Karageorge à Oplenac en Serbie, le 6 octobre 2012.

Pendant ce temps, depuis la chute du régime Ceausescu en décembre 1989, la popularité de l’ancienne famille royale prenait de l’ampleur en Roumanie. Une grande partie de cela peut être attribuée à l’implication dévouée de la plus ancienne petite-fille de la reine-mère Hélène, Margareta (qui vivait désormais à Bucarest) et de sa Fondation Princesse Margareta de Roumanie. En effet, dès 2003, les restes mortels de l’ex-mari d’Hélène, le roi Carol II, avaient été rebaptisés dans sa patrie (de leur lieu de repos original dans le Panthéon de Bragance à Lisbonne) dans une chapelle latérale de la cathédrale de Curtea de Argeș dans les Carpates. Le 16 décembre 2017, son fils le roi Michel Ier a également été enterré à Curtea de Argeș, bien que dans un mausolée royal nouvellement construit, à côté des restes de sa défunte épouse, la reine Anne, qui est décédée en août 2016.

**Reine Mère Hélène et Roi Michel de Roumanie**

Pourtant, tout cela se passait alors que les restes mortels de la reine-mère Hélène languissaient encore à Lausanne. Cependant, début septembre 2019, il a été annoncé que le corps de Sa Majesté allait être rapatrié en Roumanie et réinhumée à Curtea de Argeș. Ce qui me ramène à l’aéroport international de Genève le matin du 18 octobre : Après avoir obtenu l’autorisation de vol nécessaire, l’avion militaire roumain a atterri à l’aéroport d’Otopeni, à Bucarest, où le cercueil de Sa Majesté a été reçu, juste après 11 heures, par une garde d’honneur composée de la 30e brigade de la garde, et soigneusement sorti de l’avion précédé d’une grande croix en bois portant l’inscription ‘Elena-Regina 1896-1982’. Regardaient la scène le Gardien de la Couronne de Roumanie (Margareta), son mari le prince Radu et deux d’autres petites-filles d’Hélène (les princesses Sophia et Maria). Étaient également présents une pléthore de politiciens et de représentants des dénominations religieuses roumaines et, particulièrement pertinent, de l’Église orthodoxe grecque.

**La dépouille de la reine mère Hélène de retour en Roumanie**

À la suite d’un bref service religieux, le cercueil de Sa Majesté a ensuite été transporté au Palais Elisabetha, où il a été exposé pendant un court moment dans la Salle du Roi. Le cortège funèbre s’est ensuite dirigé vers le nord, vers Curtea de Argeș, arrivant en fin d’après-midi pour être accueilli chaleureusement par une grande foule. Le cercueil – toujours drapé de l’étendard royal – a ensuite été placé sur un catafalque à la Vieille Cathédrale. Le public a ensuite été autorisé à présenter ses respects. Émouvant, le président de la Roumanie, Klaus Iohannis, a publié une déclaration décrivant la Reine Mère Hélène comme ‘un puissant symbole de dignité, d’honneur et de courage, et une figure spéciale de conduite morale dans le sombre vingtième siècle.’

Juste avant midi le 19 octobre, des membres de la famille royale roumaine et des représentants de maisons royales étrangères (le comte de Rosslyn représentait le prince de Galles, maintenant Le Roi Charles III) se sont réunis dans la vieille cathédrale pour le service religieux. Par la suite, le cercueil de la reine mère Hélène, contenant ses restes mortels, a été porté par des soldats jusqu’au nouveau mausolée royal à proximité. Sa Majesté est enterrée aux côtés de son fils bien-aimé, le roi Michel, et de la reine Anne. Les restes de son ancien mari, le roi Carol II, reposent également à proximité, ayant été transférés au nouveau mausolée royal au printemps.

King Gustav V of Sweden: Nazi Sympathiser?

King Gustav V of Sweden was an avowed Germanophile, as was many of his family. His late wife, the strong-willed Queen Victoria of Sweden, had after all been born a Princess of Baden and was both the granddaughter of Emperor Wilhelm I, as well as a cousin of Emperor Wilhelm II. Furthermore, the marriage was primarily a political alliance organised by Gustav’s father, King Oscar II, who was keen to forge strong ties with Germany. Victoria’s influence over her rather hesitant husband was considerable and was still evident in the years following her death in 1930. The latter’s cousin, Prince Maximilian von Baden, who died in 1929, was another influence. He had long emphasised to Gustav that Germany and Sweden had common interests against Russia. In 1915, during the Great War ‘Max’ even travelled to Drottningholm in an (ultimately futile) attempt to bring Sweden into the war on the German side. Another relative of the Swedish Queen, her second cousin Prince Victor of Wied was to serve as a counsellor in the German Legation in Stockholm between 1919-1922. In 1933, and by now a member of the National Socialist Workers’ Party, he returned to the Swedish capital in the powerful and influential post of German Minister. Wied-who was a friend of Hermann Göring-continued to foster relations between Sweden and Germany, not least through the King and members of the German and Swedish aristocracy, who were traditionally pro-German. It so happened that Göring’s Swedish first wife Carin, had been high-born. (Although she died in 1931, Carin would open up contacts on behalf of her husband which were still in use during World War 2.) It also helped that Gustav’s grandson (and heir-but-one to the Swedish throne) Gustav Adolf, had married the German Princess Sybilla of Coburg the previous year. Her English-born father, Charles Edward, the Duke of Coburg, was a staunch supporter of Hitler and the Nazi Regime and had contacts at the highest level in Berlin. He was also a friend of Victor of Wied. Unsurprisingly, in 1933, during a visit to Berlin, Gustav entertained the President of Germany and the newly-elected Chancellor, Adolf Hitler to lunch at the Swedish Legation. Meanwhile, in February 1939, the King paid another visit to Berlin, during which he conferred on Field Marshal Göring, a Commander Grand Cross of the Royal Order of the Sword, a distinguished Swedish military award.

King Gustav on a visit to Berlin with his grandson, Gustav Adolf. Field Marshal Göring in the centre.

King Gustav and his German-born wife, Queen Victoria.

However, when World War II commenced in September 1939, the Swedish government of Per Albin Hansson adopted a neutral stance, a view endorsed by King Gustav. Nevertheless, this would prove a difficult position to maintain and was to come at a price. The first challenge was when Germany invaded Sweden’s neighbours of Norway and Denmark on 9 April 1940. Gustav received news of this by telephone, just after 5am, from his Foreign Minister, Christian Günther. The latter had been informed of the dual invasions in person at his home on Ymervägen in Djursholm, only a few minutes earlier, by the German Minister in Stockholm, Prince Victor of Wied. The latter had been at pains to reassure Günther that Sweden, unlike Norway and Denmark, would not be invaded (subject to certain conditions) and that he would soon be in a position to hand over an official communication from Berlin which would elaborate on the German government’s position. Wied was as good as his word and, by 9am, a collection of notables, including the Prime Minister, the Foreign Minister and the Crown Prince, joined the King in his study at the Royal Palace to discuss Germany’s demands. It made uncomfortable reading: Firstly, Sweden was not allowed to mobilise its forces. Secondly, the Swedish navy must at all times not hinder German naval operations nor travel further than three miles from the Swedish coast. Neither was Sweden to impede German official telecommunications traffic. Of particular importance to the German war effort, deliveries of Swedish iron ore were to continue unhindered, with the mines to be protected against Allied sabotage attempts.

It would be fair to say that each person sitting round the table was fearful of the Nazi menace. They had no reason to doubt that if they did not agree to these terms, Hitler’s troops would soon be marching down the streets of Stockholm. Indeed, only the sceptical Crown Prince-who had previously been married to Britain’s Princess Margaret of Connaught and was currently married to the British-raised Louise Mountbatten (who outspokenly compared Nazism to Barbarism)-spoke out against acceptance of these conditions. Eventually, it was agreed to accept the German’s demands with one exception: Sweden would not agree to being prohibited from mobilising its forces. On April 19, King Gustav V wrote a personal letter to Hitler ‘affirming the intention of Sweden to maintain strictest neutrality and to resist the violation of Sweden’s frontiers by any powers.’ Hitler replied within days reaffirming Germany’s intention to respect Sweden’s neutrality unconditionally. But, as shall be seen, these words were merely diplomatic platitudes.

Gustaf V (centre) presides over a wartime Council of State meeting with Minister of Defence Per Edvin Sköld, Minister for Foreign Affairs Christian Günther, legal consultant Thorwald Bergquist and Minister of Justice Karl Gustaf Westman.

However, even as he signed his letter to Hitler, Gustav V was already dealing with several dilemmas. The first was when his niece, Crown Princess Märtha of Norway, seeking to avoid capture by German occupying forces, travelled from Elverum across the border into Sweden with her three children in the early hours of 10 April. None of the party had passports but eventually the border guards let them through. Unsure of the reception she would receive from her Swedish relations, the Crown Princess then proceeded to the Högfjällshotell in the ski resort of Sälen where she was joined by her mother, the Danish-born Princess Ingeborg, who was no fan of the Germans, who had recently invaded her homeland.

King Haakon (second left) and Crown Prince Olav (extreme left) run for cover as German Heinkel aircraft attack them in April 1940

No sooner had Gustav received word of Märtha ’s arrival when another crisis crossed his desk. An exhausted King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav, who had remained in Norway but refused to cooperate with the Nazis, were currently being hounded by a crack group of 120 German commandos bent on their capture or death. They had reached the Swedish border post near Flötningen, on 12 April. The Norwegian Foreign Minister, Halvdan Koht, telephoned his Swedish counterpart, Christian Günther, seeking a guarantee that King Haakon might be allowed to cross over into Sweden and cross back safely after a night’s rest at a hostel. Günther discussed the matter with King Gustav. The reply was brisk and uncompromising: ‘The Swedish government does not want to provide guarantees regarding return travel in advance.’ It was also indicated that under international law, if the Norwegian King and his party crossed the border in military uniform, they would be interned. This response was to earn Gustav the lasting enmity of King Haakon.

Meanwhile, the situation with Crown Princess Märtha was also mishandled by King Gustav. Märtha was moved on from Sälen, as it was feared her presence so close to the Norwegian border might provoke the Germans, but as to doing exactly what remains unclear. “Uncle Gustav”, after initially welcoming Märtha and her family to his home at Drottningholm (where an adjutant warned that the war was not to be discussed at the dinner table) eventually offered her accommodation at nearby Ulriksdal Palace. Interestingly, the move to his palace coincided with King Haakon learning that the Germans had informed the Administrative Council, an interim body appointed by the Norwegian Supreme Court to deal with matters of civil administration in Norway, that he should abdicate the throne. Furthermore, during this period the Crown Princess (who received little direct news of King Haakon and her husband Olav) was subject to constant political pressure to return to Norway with her son Prince Harald and cooperate with the occupying power by acting as Regent, of what would effectively be a puppet throne, until her son reached his majority. A number of prominent Norwegians who visited Stockholm advocated for such a solution. This idea also had its supporters within Per Albin Hansson’s Swedish government. For instance, the Swedish Justice Minister (and one-time Foreign Minister), Karl Westman, wrote in his diary as early as 19 June, mentioning his attendance at a government meeting: ‘I reiterated my question about why the friends of the Norwegian dynasty do not put the Norwegian crown princess and [prince] Harald on a plane and send them… to Oslo.’ He was writing this at a time when many Swedes believed that Märtha’s presence threatened to undermine Sweden’s neutrality when Germany was on the ascendance: Only a few days earlier German forces had entered Paris unopposed and the French were on the point of signing the surrender at Compiègne. Meanwhile, some Norwegians even harboured the-not unrealistic-suspicion that Prince Harald could be kidnapped and taken to Oslo by force.

King Gustav, meanwhile, was concerned to learn of the German’s desire to have King Haakon abdicate or even to depose the monarchy in Norway. He now chose to become personally involved and in a telegram to Hitler observed, ‘I consider it my duty to personally emphasize to you, Herr Reich Chancellor, that such a measure would elicit serious disapproval among the broadest circles of the Swedish people and throughout the whole of Scandinavia. I wish therefore, before irrevocable decisions are made by you, to draw your attention through this telegram…to urge you, Mr. Chancellor, to proceed with all the moderation that can be considered possible in relation to Norway, its king and people.’ Did he now fear for his own throne?

Rumours now began to circulate of a cipher telegram having been sent on 21 June by King Gustav to King Haakon to advise him to abdicate in favour of his grandson as ‘a means of saving the Norwegian people from unnecessary difficulties’. This led to confusion and it appears that the contents of King Gustav’s earlier telegram to Hitler was somehow misconstrued or misreported for, on 22 June the British Minister in Stockholm indicated that King Gustav had telegraphed Hitler directly personally recommending the Regency option to him. Thus, London (and the Crown Princess) now believed that Gustav was the principal protagonist in this “Norwegian Regency” matter. Indeed, such was the fury in London that it caused Britain’s King George VI to sit down and write a very stern letter to the Swedish King. Fortunately, this was not forwarded by the British Legation in Stockholm to King Gustav, when it became clear that in his earlier telegram to Hitler the meddling Swedish king had instead urged the Reich Chancellor to show the utmost possible moderation in his dealings over Norway. Some commentators have taken the view that Gustav intervened simply because he believed that if the matter was not resolved soon Germany would abolish the monarchy in Norway. Ironically, Hitler would interpret Gustav’s involvement as a Norwegian-inspired attempt to put pressure on Germany.

The Crown Princess of Norway and her children Ragnhild, Harald and Astrid in August 1940 as they travel through Finland en route to Petsamo.

Märtha was clearly aware of the growing danger and sent a telegram to London warning her husband and father-in-law ( who had fled there, in early June, with members of the legitimate Norwegian government) that her Swedish family (i.e. King Gustav) and Hitler were conspiring to remove King Haakon and set up a Regency. Crown Prince Olav had never felt his family were safe in Sweden and in a letter from Buckingham Palace dated 22 June, he appraised his old friend President Franklin D. Roosevelt of the situation. The President soon came to Märtha’s rescue and offered her and her children the chance to relocate to the United States as his ‘personal guests.’ They departed Ulriksdal on 12 August and sailed from the Finnish port of Petsamo (now Petsjenga, Russia) aboard the USS American Legion on 15 August. Olav’s intervention, of course, thwarted the regency option. King Gustav seemed displeased by this latest development and telegraphed King Haakon, on 24 July, stating that he objected to the American trip as it might undermine the future of the Norwegian monarchy, a viewpoint Haakon quickly dismissed.

Not content with concerning himself with Norwegian matters, Gustav V turned his hand to acting as a peacemaker between Germany and the United Kingdom. He wrote personally to Britain’s King George VI, as well as to Hitler offering his services as an intermediary for peace. What the Fuhrer replied is unclear but George VI handed a note to the Swedish Ambassador in London on 12 August which courteously but firmly rejected Gustav’s offer, pointing out that ‘the intention of My Peoples to prosecute the war until their purposes have been achieved has been strengthened’ as a result of the felonious behaviour of the Germans in the war so far.

A Swedish soldier watches over German troops being transported through Sweden in World War 2.

Meanwhile, as the above sagas were being played out, King Gustav was also faced with an even more pressing problem within days of the occupation of Norway: A German request to transport food rations, medical staff and nursing supplies through Sweden by train to Narvik in northern Norway. This port was the primary outlet, particularly in winter, for transporting the Swedish ore by sea to Germany. The Swedish government agreed to this request on 17 April. It was a decision they would soon come to regret, as over time the Germans would push for further concessions including the transport of ‘furlough troops’ and ‘destroyer crews’. This was eventually expanded to ‘arms and troops’ by the end of June.

However, the most debated was during the so-called midsummer crisis (Midsommarkrisen) in June 1941, when Germany-who had by now reached an accommodation with Finland and was planning an invasion of the Soviet Union (Operation Barbarossa)-asked to transport a battle-equipped division of military personnel belonging to the Wehrmacht’s 163^rd Infantry Division from Oslo and through Sweden to Haparanda, near the Finnish-Swedish border in Northern Sweden, for further transportation eastward. The Swedish cabinet was divided on the issue and was initially against granting the request, on the basis that it was a violation of Sweden’s neutrality. Heated discussions took place throughout 23 and 24 June. However, the government executed a volte-face when the Swedish Prime Minister, Per Albin Hansson, indicated that King Gustav had informed him that he could not take responsibility for a negative answer and would abdicate unless Germany’s application was granted. He also informed his brother Eugen (who notably distanced himself from the Nazi regime) that the consequences of saying no to the Germans would be serious. Although Swedish historians have continued to debate whether their monarch really threatened to abdicate, it should be noted that on June 25, the Prince of Wied had a long conversation with King Gustav. The German Minister was subsequently pleased to inform the Foreign Ministry in Berlin that Gustav had ‘expressed his satisfaction that the principal German request for the transit of one division had been accepted by the State Council and who indicated his personal support in the matter.’ Indeed, Gustav himself would later reveal ‘that it had been owing only to his personal intervention that the question of the transportation in the summer of troops through Sweden had been settled in accordance with [German] wishes.’

King Gustav V with his family during World War 2. Crown Princess Louise (left), the King, Princess Sybilla with daughter Birgitta, Crown Prince Gustav Adolf with granddaughter Margaretha.

The same afternoon, the first of the trains left Oslo, crossing the border into Sweden early on 26 June, and heading northwards through Sweden en route to Finland and the Eastern Front. As the train arrived at Krylbo, 15 kilometres northwest of Stockholm, the Prince of Wied was present to inspect a guard of honour in the company of his wife. The main transport commenced on 27 June with around four trains crossing into Sweden each day. In total 15,449 German troops were transported by 12 July. Meanwhile, according to Sweden’s Expressen newspaper, over the ensuing wartime years 2,140,000 German soldiers and 100,000 tons of weapons and equipment would be transported through “neutral” Sweden. It should also be noted that on 29 June 1941 cooperation agreements were made between the Swedish and German air forces; as well as between the Swedish and Germany naval forces. Gustav would later indicate to the German Minister that is had only been due to his ‘personal intervention’ that in September 1941, the German 2nd Division, had been permitted to sail through Swedish territorial waters with a Swedish naval escort, en route north to the Eastern Front. The grateful Germans continued to push for more, with Sweden’s adherence to the Tripartite Pact even being mentioned at one stage.

German-born Princess Sybilla visits a German Hospital Train as it passes through Sweden in November 1941.

This period sees Gustav and some of his family at their most fawning where Germany is concerned. In November 1941, a smiling Princess Sibylla, with a German army officer at her side, was spotted serving coffee and cake to a group of wounded German soldiers, travelling homeward from Norway, at the Krylbo railway station. It is inconceivable that this was done without the King’s permission; while in February 1942, Gustav would also permit a visit to Stockholm by Sibylla’s father, currently an Obergruppenführer in the German Sturmabteilung (SA). In addition, in October 1941, four months after the German invasion of Soviet Russia, Gustav attempted to send a personal letter to Hitler ‘about a matter that is close to my heart…’ i.e. Bolshevism and offering his ‘sincere thanks to you for deciding to strike at this plague..’ and congratulating the Fuhrer ‘on the results you have already achieved.’ However, the Swedish Prime Minister got wind of it and would not allow the letter to be sent. That the King was a devious operator is evidenced by what he did next: Gustav merely sent for the Prince of Wied on 28 October and read the contents of the letter out aloud to him. The Prince took notes and that very evening, the German Foreign Ministry in Berlin received a copy of the text from the German Embassy in Stockholm: ‘The King wished quite frankly to express his warm thanks to the Fuhrer for having decided to crush this [Bolshevik] plague. The King asked that his heartiest congratulations be conveyed to the Fuhrer on the great success already achieved. At the same time the King gave assurances that by far the greater part of his people shared his views in this matter. His efforts and his activities would always be aimed at converting the doubters to his views. The King also added that he was very anxious for the preservation of good relations between Germany and Sweden.’ Gustav also asked the Prince of Wied ‘to treat the foregoing communication in special confidence so that it would not become known in public. ‘ As a second cousin of Gustav’s late wife, the King still treated the Prince ‘like family’ and he was invited on summer retreats until 1943. It is no wonder that Winston Churchill now viewed Gustav as being, ‘absolutely in the German grip.’ Hitler responded to Gustav’s message, on 7 December, ‘with sincere pleasure’ and particularly mentions ‘the very personal comforting personal attitude of Your Majesty…’ in appreciating the ‘historic action’ which Germany had taken in the war against Bolshevism.

Gustav V and his government were also afraid of the Swedish press upsetting the Germans. Academics have reported that there was ‘very limited reporting’ on the Jewish question in 1940 and 1941 compared to the pre-war years. This self-censorship also extended to at least sixteen Swedish newspapers being prevented from reporting abuses in Norwegian prisons. Expressen cites a case which illustrates that the Swedish King took a personal interest in such matters. When the Gothenburg Trade and Shipping Magazine featured an article by Torgny Segerstedt (an avowed critic of Nazism and Sweden’s policy of appeasement to Hitler) which mentioned Nazi atrocities, Gustaf V summoned the magazine’s editor to the Royal Palace and urged him to stop writing negative articles about Hitler and his regime. Meanwhile, on one occasion, Hitler himself set the record straight, when in an interview with Stockholm Tidningen, in March 1944, he denied that he had made an approach to King Gustav, who had offered to mediate with Finland.

It is easy today to criticise the actions of King Gustav. However, he and his government were clearly under constant pressure for although Sweden remained unoccupied, it remained cut off from the West by German-held territory and was heavily dependent on Germany economically, including for her imports of necessities. Furthermore, the possibility of a German invasion of Sweden was ever-present. At times, the King’s intervention may even have prevented a German incursion, as when he wrote to assure Hitler that ‘Sweden will defend itself against all invaders, even against an English attack…’ This was in response to Hitler’s grumblings that Sweden would not protect itself against a British invasion thus threatening the supply of iron ore on which Germany so desperately relied. Certainly, in April 1942, Hitler decided to strengthen German forces in Norway by 70,000 men. The 25^th Panzer Division was strategically stationed in Oslo and was Germany’s way of intimidating the Swedish government into continued cooperation. By contrast, with the weakening of the German military position in the latter part of 1943 onwards, Gustav’s fear of German reprisals seemed to diminish and he appeared a little more accommodating, although cynics would say that was merely repositioning himself in preparation for an Allied victory. In advance of the Heads of Government Meeting at Tehran in November 1943 some-such as the Russian Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov-were pressing for Sweden to abandon neutrality and fight with the Allies. However, the Swedish Minister in Moscow told the United States Ambassador to Soviet Russia, W. Averell Harriman, that while Sweden was ready to take ‘certain risks,’ his government was not ready to go very far and there was a regal reason :’He pointed out that it was the ambition of the King to lead his people through the war without the suffering that would come from participation.’ Meanwhile, around 7 million tons of iron ore were still being traded between Sweden and Germany in 1944.

As has been observed, Swedish wartime diplomacy sought to ward off German invasion by adopting a neutrality that sacrificed some of Sweden’s independence and made significant concessions to Germany, many backed by the King. Nonetheless, during this period, Gustav V has been credited with helping save Jews deported from Nazi-occupied countries such as Denmark by authorizing measures including the distribution of Swedish passports. Furthermore, in June 1944, at the urging of the Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg and the Chief Rabbi in Sofia, Gustav sent a telegram to the Hungarian ‘Regent’, Miklós Horthy, protesting the deportation of Jews from Hungary. This examples a stronger stance than in 1933 when he apparently informed Hitler that the persecution of the Jews initiated by the Nazis would have a disastrous effect on Germany’s international reputation. The Chancellor should ‘proceed more gently.’

At the time of his 85th birthday in 1943 Gustav V made an interesting speech, which indicates his mindset during World War 2, “It is my firm opinion that a constitutional monarch under ordinary circumstances should not act as a leader in one direction or another except in exceptional cases. But during the current great world crisis, I have considered it my indisputable duty to try on several occasions to help the country out of the difficulties of the moment.” With these words, he acknowledges that he certainly had strayed in ‘one direction’ and that was certainly not in the direction of the Allies.

The author of this blog takes a keen interest on the fate of royalty during World War II. He narrates the wartime adventures of the Greek-born Princess Olga (onetime Consort of Prince Regent Paul of Yugoslavia) in Africa (and much else besides).

Crown Princess Märtha’s Regency Battle

In the early hours of 9 April, Crown Princess Märtha and her husband Olav were awakened by a phone call from an aide, bringing the devastating news of an invasion by German military forces. With her mind in a whirl, Märtha immediately awakened her three children, instructing them to dress for a mountain hike. Ragnhild, the eldest, would later recall that ‘the clearest sign that something was wrong was that it was our parents themselves who woke us up.’ After eating a hasty breakfast, at around 6 a.m. Märtha , Olav and their three children (Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald) set out from their home, some twenty kilometres to the west of Oslo, for the Royal Palace in central Oslo, in a convoy of three cars. The Crown Prince was at the wheel of his own car, his wife and children beside him. Olav-who was driving at great speed-had already decided that if anyone tried to stop him, he would run them down.

On arrival at the Royal Palace, everything was in a state of flux. The royal family departed the royal residence at 7 a.m. travelling in the direction of the Østbane railway station in order to take a special train to Hamar to avoid capture. The members of the Norwegian parliament, the Storting, were also on board the train. The group was led and organised by the President, Carl Joachim Hambro. It had been at his suggestion that the royal family accompanied the parliamentary group. Just as the train passed through Lillestrøm, the town was bombed, although the focus was fortunately on the nearby airport at Kjeller. The entourage travelled onwards towards Hamar with German soldiers and aircraft in hot pursuit.

By the early evening, the royal party had settled at an estate at Sælid, a few kilometres outside of Hamar, where they were just sitting down to dinner when word was received from the local police chief of the impending arrival of several busloads of German paratroops. This was a group led by the German Air Attache in Oslo, Captain Spiller, who was intent on seizing the King and his ministers by force. They did not reckon on the efforts of the Norwegian Colonel Otto Ruge and his men, many of whom had only completed their basic training, who manned a roadblock. Their heaviest weapon was one machine gun. Fighting tenaciously, they succeeded in mortally wounding Hiller and the Germans withdrew. Meanwhile, the King and others of the royal group immediately set out by car towards Elverum, to rendezvous with members of the government who had fled there from Hamar. It was also at Elverum that the Storting gave the King and government the authority to govern the country for as long as the war lasted (“The Elverum Mandate”). However, with so much uncertainty prevailing, a decision was made to send Crown Princess Märtha and the royal children over the border into neutral Sweden, for reasons of safety. Among those accompanying them were Olav’s trusted aide, Major Nicolai Ramm Østgaard (who would almost immediately return to his duties with the Crown Prince), his wife Ragni and their ten-year-old son Einar. Also in the royal entourage was Signe Svendsen, Prince Harald’s nurse; as well as Ragnhild and Martha’s Swedish governess Maja Thorén. Another Swedish national, the Crown Princess’s maid, Edla Norberg completed the party. The royal convoy, consisting of three cars, crossed the border into Sweden from Trysil at 00:50 hours on 10 April.

German troops parade down Karl Johan’s Gate with the Royal Palace in the background.

The events surrounding the party’s crossing into Sweden are the subject of debate. There are two versions:. In Brita Rosenberg’s biography of Princess Astrid, the latter recounts that Swedish border guards did not want to raise the border barrier and only did so at the last minute when their Norwegian driver indicated that he would drive straight through unless they did so.

Einar Østgaard, in his 2005 book about Crown Princess Märtha, which makes use of his father’s notes and journals, takes issue with this account: ‘The claim that Crown Princess Märtha was denied access to Sweden was printed for the first time over forty years after crossing the border on the night of 10 April 1940.’ He is of the opinion that this version must be due to a misremembering. The author also cites his mother Ragni, who served as the Crown Princess’s Lady-in-Waiting, later describing an undramatic border crossing: ‘None of us had passports, but at the Swedish border station, Nikko (her husband, Nikolai Østgaard) was out explaining who it was, and there was no difficulty in getting past.’

Either way, the convoy continued to the winter resort of Sälen to stay at the well-known Högfjällshotellet, arriving at half past three in the morning. As it was a glorious sunny day and the royal children spent most of the time skiing on the nearby slopes, while their anxious mother remained at the hotel glued to the radio for news of events in neighbouring Norway. What she heard could hardly have lifted her spirits. On 10 April, the King had met with the German Minister Kurt Bräuer in the High School at Elverum. Bräuer set out the demands of his masters in Berlin: the legitimate Norwegian government must resign, and the King must appoint Vidkun Quisling of the right-wing Nasjonal Samling (National Unity) party as Norway’s Prime Minister and approve the formation of a pro-German government led by him. King Haakon subsequently presented these demands to officials of the legitimate Johan Nygaardsvold government during an extraordinary Council of State held in nearby Nybergsund (where they had relocated). The King made it clear that they must decide what course of action they wished to take, but added that he would not bow to these German demands and if the government decided to agree to them, he would abdicate. The government, in turn, fully backed the King. King Haakon’s “no” and the government’s approval thereof were formulated as a Royal Decree and signed by the King, the Prime Minister and Minister of State Bredo Rolsted. The Norwegian population were informed of the decision in a radio broadcast.

When the Germans learned of this decision (which was relayed by telephone to Bräuer at Eidsvoll by Foreign Minister Koht) , they were infuriated. The following day, Heinkel 111 bombers of the German Luftwaffe bombed both Elverum and Nybergsund, where the King and Crown Prince were sheltering, killing dozens of people. Crown Princess Märtha was subsequently relieved to learn from newly-arrived Norwegian guests at the hotel that, although shaken, both the King and Crown Prince Olav were uninjured. This news was corroborated by the hotel manager who had been in Nybergsund at the time of the attacks, in an attempt to obtain information on behalf of the Crown Princess. From first-hand reports carried in the Swedish press, it became clear that King Haakon was the key target. At one stage, he and his son Olav were forced to take shelter in a ditch to avoid being fired on by the low-flying Heinkel bombers.

**Crown Prince Olav (to rear) and King Haakon literally run for their lives at Nybergsund 11 April 1940**

An early visitor to Sälen was the Storting President Carl Joachim Hambro, who was en route to Stockholm. He recalls in his memoirs arriving in time for breakfast and apologising to the Crown Princess for ‘being so unkempt and not having had time to shave.’ Märtha, clearly having maintained her sense of humour merely laughed and replied, ‘Me neither.’ He brought with him a letter written by King Haakon at Nybergsund addressed to his sister (and Märtha’s mother) Princess Ingeborg. The latter arrived at the winter resort a few days later, visibly tired and looking somewhat older, according to Ragni Østgaard. Yet, Ingeborg was also ‘filled with a glowing hatred of the Germans’ for her homeland of Denmark had also recently been occupied. Märtha’s mother was also deeply concerned for the welfare of her brother, King Haakon (formerly Prince Carl of Denmark until his accession to the throne of Norway in 1905) and her son-in-law (and nephew) Olav.

The Swedish authorities were by now growing increasingly nervous of the presence of Norwegian royalty in an area so close to the border. What if, they reasoned, the Germans accidentally bombed the hotel due to a “navigation error” or if a kidnapping attempt was made to seize the royal party? The Swedish county governor decided to act and asked the royal party leave the hotel. In order not to attract attention, on 18 April, the royals and their entourage departed in the middle of the night, and headed southwards by car (which almost upturned in a snow drift) towards Uppsala. Thanks to Princess Ingeborg making use of family connections, it was arranged that the royal party could take temporary residence at Count Carl Bernadotte of Wisborg’s home at Rasbo. They would remain there for ten days, before proceeding to Stockholm and Drottningholm Palace.

At Drottningholm, King Gustav proved to be welcoming host but made it clear, through an adjutant, that there would be no discussion of the war at the dinner table. This was interesting, as otherwise Gustav had taken a keen interest in developments throughout Europe, with maps spread out over a billiard table nearby. However, it was noticeable that there was none pertaining to Norway. This particular map had been removed, prior to the arrival of the Norwegian contingent, perhaps out of tact. The Crown Princess tried to distract herself with games of gin rummy and bridge. Meanwhile Norwegians in Sweden were told not to openly celebrate their National Day on 17 May.

So how did the Crown Princess now continue to obtain news of what was happening across the border? Märtha acquired a quality radio set and each evening she and Ragni Østgaard would listen to the late night news bulletin from London. Perhaps Märtha even managed to tune in to the National Day service broadcast from the Norwegian Seamen’s Church in London, as King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav managed to do in a holiday chalet in Northern Norway? She also had the services of the Norwegian diplomat Jen Bull, who acted as a liaison between Märtha and the Norwegian Legation in Stockholm. Bull had previously served (1925-1931) as a Counsellor in the Norwegian legation in Berlin, rising to the rank of Under-Secretary of State at the Foreign Office in Oslo in 1939.

In due course, the Crown Princess was informed that King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav had departed Norway (from Tromsø) on the evening of 7 June, following a cabinet meeting held in the Bishop’s Palace, in order to continue the fight from Norwegian democracy from London. The war in Norway aside, Crown Prince Olav’s chief concern was now for the safety of his children and wife in Sweden. He had written to President Franklin D Roosevelt from Trangen, Langvatnet, as early as 10 May, mentioning an offer which Roosevelt had made, in late April 1939, during the Crown Prince and Princess’ weekend stay at the President’s country home at Hyde Park, ‘to take care of the children’ if the war should reach Norwegian shores.

After observing the 82nd birthday celebrations for ‘Uncle Gustav’ the previous day at Drottningholm, on 17 June, the Crown Princess and her children moved to Ulriksdal Palace. This allowed for some more privacy, and the children were able to relax with games, picnics and boating on the inlet. Furthermore, young Harald took the opportunity to learn to swim under the instruction of Signe Svendsen. Nonetheless, there was always a watchful Swedish policeman in attendance. Interestingly, the move to Ulriksdal coincided with King Haakon learning that the Germans had informed the Administrative Council, an interim body appointed by the Norwegian Supreme Court to deal with matters of civil administration in Norway, that he should abdicate the throne. This move on the part of the German occupiers seems to have hit a raw nerve with King Gustav of Sweden who, most unusually, became involved, sending a telegram to Adolf Hitler stating that ‘I consider it my duty to personally emphasize to you, Herr Reich Chancellor, that such a measure would elicit serious disapproval among the broadest circles of the Swedish people and throughout the whole of Scandinavia. I wish therefore, before irrevocable decisions are made by you, to draw your attention through this telegram…to urge you, Mr. Chancellor, to proceed with all the moderation that can be considered possible in relation to Norway, its king and people.’ Did he now fear for his own throne?

**The sitting room at Ulriksdal Palace much as it was in 1940.**

In the interim, Berlin had appointed Josef Terboven as Reichskommissar in Norway. Despite the initial refusal of the Administrative Council to comply with the abdication request, negotiations were continuing with Terboven, who was currently focused on the formulation of a future political framework for use in Norway during the occupation. Furthermore, despite King Gustav’s aforementioned telegram, there was a genuine possibility that a powerful Germany, aided by sympathetic Norwegians, could, if necessary, use leverage against Sweden, both diplomatically, economically, and militarily, to arrange for Märtha to be returned to Norway with her son and a Regency formed until Harald came of age. A number of prominent Norwegians who visited Stockholm advocated for such a solution. This idea also had its supporters within Per Albin Hansson’s Swedish government. For instance, the Swedish Justice Minister (and one-time Foreign Minister), Karl Westman, wrote in his diary as early as 19 June, mentioning his attendance at a government meeting: ‘I reiterated my question about why the friends of the Norwegian dynasty do not put the Norwegian crown princess and [prince] Harald on a plane and send them… to Oslo.’ He was writing this at a time when many Swedes believed that Märtha’s presence threatened to undermine Sweden’s neutrality when Germany was on the ascendance: Only a few days earlier German forces had entered Paris unopposed and the French were on the point of signing the surrender at Compiègne. Time Magazine would subsequently report that Crown Princess Märtha had indeed been offered ‘a regency in the name of her son, Prince Harald.’ Meanwhile, some Norwegians even harboured the-not unrealistic-suspicion that Prince Harald could be kidnapped and taken to Oslo by force.

On 27 June, the Presidential Council of the Storting, under pressure from the occupiers and recognising the need to establish a provisional government, responded tentatively to Josef Terboven’s proposal to establish a Council of the Realm to act as a collaborative body with the occupiers. In order to progress matters, they now asked the King to abdicate, giving him until 12 July to ‘renounce his constitutional functions for himself and his house.’ However, King Haakon refused to comply and, on 8 July, announced his rejection of the abdication request via a BBC radio broadcast from London, as well as formally placing his response in writing. What would this mean for the future of Norway and the monarchy going forward?

In Stockholm, Märtha, under the impression that her Swedish family (i.e. King Gustav) and Hitler were conspiring to remove King Haakon and set up a Regency, was feeling the pressure and sent a telegram to London as early as 24 June warning her husband that attempts were being made to ‘induce her’ to return with her three children to Oslo. Indeed, rumours had been circulating of a cipher telegram having been sent on 21 June by King Gustav to King Haakon to advise him to abdicate in favour of his grandson as ‘a means of saving the Norwegian people from unnecessary difficulties’. It also appears that the contents of King Gustav’s earlier telegram to Hitler may have been misconstrued or misreported for, on 22 June the British Minister in Stockholm indicated that King Gustav had telegraphed Hitler directly personally recommending the Regency option to him. Thus, London (and the Crown Princess) now believed that Gustav was the principal protagonist in this matter. Indeed, such was the fury in London that it caused Britain’s King George VI to sit down and write a very stern letter to the Swedish King. Fortunately, this was not forwarded by the British Legation in Stockholm to King Gustav, when it became clear that the meddling Swedish king had instead urged Hitler to show the utmost possible moderation in his dealings over Norway. Some commentators have taken the view that Gustav intervened simply because he believed that if the matter was not resolved soon Germany would abolish the monarchy in Norway.

Despite the strong political pressure placed on her, according to Einar Østgaard’s book, Crown Princess Märtha did not particularly want to travel to the United States. However, King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav, fearing for Märtha and the children’s safety, seemed keen that this should happen. In late June, the Crown Prince had written again to President Roosevelt from Buckingham Palace pressing him to make good on his offer of sanctuary to his children, but this time he also included a request on behalf of his wife. Olav also made an approach to the US Secretary of State via the US Ambassador in London, Joseph Kennedy, entreating ‘if there is anything you can do in a hurry to get the [Crown] Princess out [of Sweden].’ On 12 July, the US Secretary of State sent a message to the US Minister in Stockholm saying that President Roosevelt was arranging for a naval transport vessel to be sent to Finland to evacuate the Crown Princess and her family, along with a group of ‘stranded’ US citizens.

On 17 July, the Norwegian Government-in-exile addressed a letter to the Storting Presidential Council, in which cautious appreciation of the work done by the Administrative Council was combined with a plain warning that ‘everything which is agreed or done at this time in respect of government in Norway must have the clear stamp of temporariness, if nothing is to be lost for the future of the country.’

On 18 July, Märtha received a telephone call from the Norwegian Minister in Washington, Wilhelm Thorleif von Munthe af Morgenstierne. He informed a somewhat nonplussed Crown Princess (who seems to have been in the dark about Crown Prince Olav’s recent correspondence with Roosevelt) that an American warship was being sent to Finland to transport her and her children to the United States. But would she go? On 20 July, Märtha received the US Minister to Norway, Mrs Florence Harriman, who was now ensconced temporarily at the United States Legation in Stockholm. Having had time to reflect on the efforts being made on her and her children’s behalf, both in London and Washington, the Crown Princess indicated to the American that she would be happy to accept President Roosevelt’s kind offer. Nevertheless, Märtha was keen to emphasise that she wanted to enter the United States ‘as quietly as possible’ and that she ‘would not be required to meet reporters or a reception committee’. Naively, the Crown Princess even expressed the hope that the date of her arrival should be kept confidential. King Gustav, on hearing of the “American plan”, telegraphed King Haakon, on 24 July, stating that he objected to the American trip as it might undermine the future of the Norwegian monarchy, a viewpoint Haakon, who deeply resented Gustav’s meddling, was quick to dismiss. Some sources also have Crown Princess Märtha and “Uncle Gustav” having a robust exchange of views on this matter in Stockholm.

However, events were already moving apace. On 22 July, Mrs Harriman had been informed by the US State Department that a naval transport, the USS American Legion, was about to leave for the Finnish port of Petsamo (now Petsjenga, Russia) and should reach there around 5 August. It was also made clear that there was ‘no possible way’ the Crown Princess’ arrival in the United States could be kept confidential. Indeed, just as Märtha was setting off from Ulriksdal Palace, on 12 August, the Norwegian Legation released a statement to the press, also broadcast over Radio Sweden, stating that the Crown Princess and her three children ‘will leave for the United States in the next few days to visit President Roosevelt’ who had issued ‘a personal invitation’ to the Norwegian royals.

That same day, the Norwegian party departed Stockholm’s Central Station. Both Märtha’s father, Prince Carl and Princess Ingeborg were distressed to take leave of their beloved daughter and grandchildren. Princess Ingeborg presented Märtha with a case of jewels, including the emerald tiara that had once belonged to Empress Joséphine, the wife of Napoléon Bonaparte. This was a form of financial insurance in difficult times. King Gustav also came to the station to see them off, despite his grave reservations. They were, after all, his relations too. The plan was for the Norwegian royal party to travel by train to Haparanda, on the Swedish/ Norwegian border, with the rest of the journey, through Finland, being undertaken by cars provided by the Finnish authorities. The local Haparanda newspaper Haparandabladet soon reported on the Crown Princess’s arrival there, prior to her setting off on the second stage of the journey northwards to Petsamo. This second stage was undertaken in a convoy of four vehicles and included stops and overnight stays in Rovaniemi and Inari (Enare). A Finnish military officer, Major Carl Gustaf Wahren, accompanied the royal entourage and was responsible for security. He very kindly allowed the amiable Swedish policeman Artur Pfeiffer, with whom the children had developed a good relationship since their arrival in Stockholm, to accompany the party on this Finnish leg of their journey. Petsamo was reached on 15 August.

The Crown Princess and her children now joined the nine hundred passengers, mostly United States citizens, aboard the American Legion, bound for New York. Märtha appeared on the ship’s manifest as “Mrs Jones” and was given the use of the Captain’s cabin. Others in the royal party included the Crown Princess’s Chief of Staff, Peder Anker Wedel Jarlsberg; Lady-in-Waiting, Mrs Ragni Østgaard; the latter’s son Einar and Prince Harald’s nurse, Signe Svendsen. Touchingly, Harald was pictured clutching his beloved teddy bear. Yet, the Norwegian royal party were still very much in danger. Germany refused to guarantee the ship safe conduct and according to Time Magazine, in a ruthless last-minute display of audacity, had tried to delay the sailing with a dispute over the route. It was said that the Germans preferred a more northern passage where the American Legion could be waylaid by a submarine, and Martha and her son kidnapped.

Meanwhile, King Haakon broadcast to the Norwegian people on 26 August, informing them ‘to avoid everything which is inconsistent with our national dignity; remain Norwegian in mind and thought…’ A majority of the Storting members in Oslo eventually voted for the suspension of the monarchy rather than acceptance of the original German demand for the abdication or deposing of the Royal House and negotiations continued. However, Terboven, keen to stamp his authority, eventually abandoned plans for a Council of the Realm. On 25 September 1940, he proclaimed the abolition of the monarchy, the deposition of the Nygaardsvold government, and the dissolution of all political parties with the exception of the Nasjonal Samling. Furthermore, he also terminated the activities of the Administrative Council and set up a body of pro-German personalities and power rested, for the moment, with the Reichskommissariat.

Despite all the melodrama of the last few months, the Crown Princess and her entourage finally sailed into New York on 28 August. She and her three children would eventually settle in a largish brick house set in substantial grounds in Pook’s Hill, Maryland. Märtha would soon become part of President’s Roosevelt’s inner circle and was thus ideally placed to obtain first-hand knowledge of the comings and goings at the White House and in Washington’s political circles. She was also able to use her position to advance Norway’s cause in the United States.

**The Crown Princess and her family arrive in New York 28 August 1940**

Norwegian Royal Family’s Return June 1945

In Mid-April 1945, King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav remained in exile in England, where they had sought refuge following the German occupation of Norway in 1940. However, with the collapse of the Third Reich now imminent, Olav thought it expedient to inform his wife, Crown Princess Märtha who, with their three children, Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald, had taken refuge in the United States, that they must be prepared to travel from their wartime home in Washington D.C. to Europe at short notice.

Crown Princess Märtha and her children Harald, Astrid and Ragnhild at their wartime home Pooks Hill, near Washington D.C.

According to one source, the Crown Princess learned of the German surrender in May from the Norwegian Consul-General of Norway, Christensen, following her arrival by train in New York. However, Princess Astrid would recall it differently, stating that it was she who first heard the news of the German capitulation in Europe over the radio at the family’s residence, causing her to shout out, ‘We are free. We are free!’ Her mother, the Crown Princess, was nearby and asked if any specific mention had been made of Norway. Unfortunately, Astrid had been so caught up in the excitement of the moment, that she had rushed out of the room without hearing the final details of the broadcast! Fortunately, the Norwegian Foreign Minister Trygve Lie, who was also in Washington, called to confirm the good news. He was due to fly to Britain and asked the Crown Princess if she wanted to come too, so that she might have the chance to meet Crown Prince Olav, before he departed for Norway. Naturally she agreed. But of necessity, the reunion, which took place in Edinburgh, on 11 May, was short but sweet!

Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald set out for England on 20 May. In the United States, following the initial burst of publicity upon their arrival from Europe in August 1940, the children had not been subjected to the same intrusiveness as would have been the case in Norway. Princess Astrid recalls that ‘Over there we were just Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald. There wasn’t much talk about princes and princesses.’ Nonetheless, there was great excitement that the journey back to Europe would be by air, rather than by sea, quite a novel thing at the time. As a precaution, Ragnhild and Astrid flew in one plane accompanied by the Court Marshal, Baron Wedel Jarlsberg; while Harald travelled separately with the Crown Princess’s Lady-in-Waiting, Ragni Østgaard and her son Einer. The aeroplanes were of course far from luxurious, having mostly been used for the transport of military personnel.

While the princesses were keen to return to their homeland, Harald (who was aged only three when he arrived in the US) was confused, as he would recall some sixty years later: ‘Everyone was talking about how we were going home now. I was the only one who was going to do the opposite; I was going to leave my home. I didn’t remember anything from Norway; I didn’t know of any other home other than Pooks Hill.’

After a stopover at Gander in Newfoundland, the royal transports landed in Scotland the following afternoon. Before the day’s end, the royal children were travelling southwards by train for an emotional reunion with King Haakon (‘Farfar’), at his current home, Foliejon Park in Berkshire. They had not met for five years. Inevitably, as Harald had only been three when they parted company on 9 April 1940, he remembered little, if anything, of the venerable gentleman with the Danish accent. However, there was to be no meeting, for the moment, with Crown Prince Olav, who had arrived home in Oslo on 13 May, to a warm welcome from cheering crowds.

After a few weeks in England, the Norwegian Royal Family departed London’s King’s Cross Station, on the evening of 4 June, aboard the night sleeper train to Edinburgh. King Haakon (accompanied by the Crown Princess) had earlier lunched with his nephew, King George VI, and his wife Queen Elizabeth, at Buckingham Palace to thank them for their hospitality over the years. Haakon also recorded a message of thanks to the British people from the BBC headquarters, Broadcasting House.

King Haakon emaks HMS Norfolk near Edinburgh 5 June 1945

In the early afternoon of 5 June, amid considerable ceremony, the royal party boarded the British cruiser and flagship of the 1st Cruiser Squadron, HMS Norfolk, at Rosyth Dockyard. The Norwegian Royal Standard-a rampant gold lion on a red background-was hoisted from the mainmast as soon as the King set foot on the gangplank; while the Royal Marine band played the Norwegian National Anthem. Vice-Admiral Rhoderick McGrigor was waiting to greet the King and the other members of the Royal Party. HMS Norfolk was escorted throughout the crossing by HMS Devonshire, the vessel which had transported King Haakon, Crown Prince Olav and the Norwegian government over to exile in Britain almost five years earlier. Other ships in the convoy included the Royal Navy O-class destroyers HMS Offa, HMS Onslow and HMS Orwell, as well as the Royal Norwegian Navy S-Class destroyer, HNoMS Stord.

The following day, 6 June, the weather was bad, with a strong breeze and heavy rain. King Haakon spent the whole day on the command bridge and suddenly, at around six o’clock, land was sighted: Lista, the southern most tip of Norway. Prince Harald ran to where his mother and his sisters were sitting, and received a confirming answer when he shouted ‘Is it Norway, Mother?’ Princess Astrid remembers that ‘Grandfather was anxious and wondered what the homecoming would be like. How would the people receive him?’

King Haakon takes the salute with his son Crown Prince Olav. Behind are Crown Princess Märtha, Princess Ragnhild and Prince Harald. Princess Astrid is obscured behind her father.

King Haakon landed in Oslo, at 12 midday on 7 June, exactly five years to the day since he departed Tromsø for exile in Britain to carry on the fight against Germany. This was also the 40th anniversary of the famous vote in the Storting [Parliament] which dissolved the union between Norway and Sweden. Crown Prince Olav came aboard HMS Norfolk at Spro and must have been somewhat startled at the sight of his three children dressed in oversize duffle coats (borrowed from the crew) against the biting winds. Indeed, Princess Astrid remembered that the weather was so bad at times that those on board could not see the land. However, soon small craft were spotted, decorated with foliage and flags, coming almost alongside in greeting as the vessel progressed up the Oslofjord. The duffle coats were soon swapped for “Sunday Best” clothing for the welcome home festivities in Oslo. Three hundred thousand people (other sources state 500,000) were said to have lined the Oslofjord. Ships in the harbour blew their whistles and let-off star shells.

Once the ship had reached its destination, the sun broke through the clouds and the King and his family disembarked and were transported by launch to the Honnørbryggen quayside, near to Akerhus Fortress, to shake hands with the official welcoming party, which included Paal Berg, leader of the resistance movement, as well as General Thorne, who had formally held sovereignty of Norway following the German surrender. The latter is said to have greeted the King with the words, ‘Sir, I return to you your Kingdom.’ The King straightened his back and strode purposefully down the red carpet to a waiting pavilion decked out with flags bearing the royal insignia. His Majesty inspected a Guard of Honour formed from, among others, newly arrived British and American military contingents. The Oslo City Hall provided a fitting backdrop. The Crown Prince and Crown Princess and their children (who were noticeably mesmerised by the fuss) followed on close behind. Thousands shouted out ‘God Save the King.’ A band played the National Anthem. Later, all-night parties were held along the Oslofjord. King Haakon, was ‘deeply moved by the warm welcome of all the people.’ It was clear that years of oppression had given the Norwegians a desire to express themselves.

In a speech King Haakon explained to the assembled crowds, ‘The day we decided we had to leave the country was a grim and sombre day. We understood that if we remained here, we would be captured and, as prisoners, would no longer represent a free Norway. It was on that basis that we deemed it necessary to continue the struggle for Norway’s freedom abroad.’

‘The years were long. I do not deny that, and many times it may have looked very dark for many of you’

‘That we should return on the anniversary of the day when Norwegians regained their freedom and independence is for me a sign that we shall succeed in carrying out our future tasks to the benefit of our country.’ King Haakon added.

He concluded, ‘But in this time of rejoicing, we must not forget that we have a great and difficult task ahead of us to achieve what we wish to build here in our land: a free and benevolent society for the good people of Norway.’

Princess Astrid further recalls that ‘When we drove up to the Palace, it was heart-warming to see the Royal Court staff members, who had been there when we left, standing in the open windows of the Palace to welcome us home. All of our friends, whom we had not seen in five long years, were also standing there. They had been brought to the Palace to greet us, and that was very emotional.’

King Haakon and Crown Princess Märtha drive through the streets of Oslo on 7 June. Note the presence of bodyguards and outriders.

That evening, the royal family appeared on the Royal Palace balcony before a crowd estimated at 100,000. The royal family did not retire until 12.30am, following a wonderful firework display which featured a stylised monogram H7 (for Haakon VII). Prince Harald would also later recall running from room to room of the vast palace, even encountering a room full of chambermaids enjoying their repast.

The following night, a gala performance took place at the National Theatre, at the close of which a leading actor recited Nordahl Grieg’s poem ‘The King’- a patriotic tribute inspired by the experiences which the people and the monarch had shared during the campaign in 1940. This was clandestinely brought into circulation throughout Norway not long before the author lost his life in a bombing raid over Berlin with the R.A.A.F in December 1943.

The task of dismantling the German presence in Norway was now underway, as was the need to form of a new government and deal with the minority who had thrown in their lot with the Germans. On a more personal level, both the Royal Palace and Skaugum, the home of the Crown Princely couple, had suffered from the ravages of war. The former was described as ‘a shambles’, with the late Queen Maud’s sitting room having been used as an office by the traitor, Quisling. The Royal Chapel and Great Banqueting Hall had been turned into storage rooms. Meanwhile, the contents of Skaugum were either damaged or subsequently located at a storage facility. The house had, throughout the occupation, been the residence of the Nazi Reich Commissioner, Josef Terboven. He had recently committed suicide by blowing himself up in a bunker in the grounds. It would take several months to put these residences into a serviceable condition. Although originally the family had stayed the first couple of nights at the Palace, they soon relocated to the royal summer home on the Bygdøy peninsula (which had also been taken over by the Germans), where they would remain until the autumn.

Another trial initially, especially for Prince Harald, was adjusting to life at a Norwegian school, for he spoke and understood English far better than Norwegian at this time. Nonetheless, he would now become the first Hereditary Prince to attend a regular public school.

King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav would work side-by-side during the post-war years in their quest to help rebuild a country ravaged by war. The Crown Princess once again took up her charitable duties as the first lady of Norway. A strong foundation was thus formed for the future of the royal family.

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