Of all the sons of King George III, he was the one of whom least good could be said or hoped by a people most loyally anxious to hope and say all.
-London Times
How can a people love an autocratic ruler?
In the United States, we celebrate leaders – not rulers - as emancipators; those who fought for liberty, democracy, and equality are cherished and remembered. George Washington freed us from the tyranny of colonial rule. Lincoln freed the slaves. JFK signed the Civil Rights Act.
So, it is somewhat of a mystery to me how illiberal, monarchist, and even absolutist rulers could be revered. The life and reign of Ernest Augustus of Hanover (ruled 1837-1851) begin to address that question.
For one, his life was cinematic and full of intrigue. Born in 1771, Prince Ernest Augustus was the fifth son of King George III. He had a military career as a cavalry officer and was created Duke of Cumberland in 1799. When Queen Victoria succeeded Ernest’s older brother William IV, Hanover did not recognize the right of a woman to rule as Queen: thus, Ernest became the King of Hanover, terminating the personal union.
Ernest lived as a royal, fought as a soldier, and ruled as an autocrat. He wore a scarred, disfigured face that he earned in battle; he feuded with Queen Victoria, interfered with elections, and was for a time heir to the throne of Great Britain and Ireland. He was nearly murdered in his bed, perhaps for cuckolding a colleague. He apparently “literally rode women down on horses” and “was accused of breaking each of the ten commandments.”1
Politically, Ernest was an archconservative. In the House of Lords, he had an extremely conservative voting record, and stood against everything that liberal historicism has come to embrace as a sign of progress: religious freedom, a liberalized franchise, equality before the law. As King of Hanover, he ruled as an old-school monarchist: he demanded oaths of loyalty, exiled dissenters, and crushed an extant liberal constitution immediately upon his ascension. He was publicly despised as the Duke of Cumberland, and his death gave the London Times a chance to distance him from the British character:
Prince Ernest partook neither in disposition nor in sympathies of that character which our countrymen are distinguished, nor could we convey a better idea of the portrait before us than by describing it as that of a bad German prince of the last century.
Perhaps Ernest was immoral, cantankerous, and an enemy of progress. He had been “the fittest representative” of “bigots, obstructives, and alarmists.” He had lived in a “certain criminal blackness below the standard dye of aristocratic debauchery.”
Despite these drawbacks, he was ultimately able to govern effectively. He created an efficient bureaucracy, completing engineering projects and technological modernizations, eventually forcing a populace to assent to and even praise his rule. He brought trains to Hanover (but not in the city center, so as to preserve its beauty), gas lighting to the streets, and frequently and visibly traveled throughout his Kingdom, settling disputes. As King, he lived frugally and kept an austere court.
As a bureaucratic administrator, King Ernest impelled Hanover to resist the liberalizing trend in the early 19th century. An 1833 constitution had granted increased popular and parliamentary control in Hanover. The same year he became King, Ernest annulled it in classic autocratic fashion. Seven supporters of the constitution, including Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm, publicly opposed this development, and were directly questioned by the King. When they refused to swear loyalty, he exiled them.
The Göttingen Seven were not nobodies, but rather enjoyed some degree of public support and acclaim. In this context, perhaps Ernest’s politics were questionable and imprudent, but one cannot help admire at least a kernel of his audacious authoritarianism:
Relying on the victory which had apparently declared for absolutism, inflexible in his persuasions, and unbending in his demeanor, the Duke treated popular opinion with a ferocity of contempt which could scarcely be surpassed at St. Petersburg or Warsaw.
One can sense contemporary populists would love this King. Dismissing popular, liberal professors with ferocious contempt sounds like a sure road to popularity in 2024 America. Pre 20th century conservatives are fascinating - they allow the examination of governance from the extreme right before it became associated with Nazism and genocide. So, Ernest Augustus is a remarkable figure of history, because despite his illiberalism and initial unpopularity, he would eventually be embraced by both his people and history as a competent, valuable ruler.
The series of simultaneous political convulsions of 1848 – the “springtime of the peoples” – should have been the perfect opportunity for Ernest to be dismissed in ignominy. A revolutionary pulse swept Europe, leading to new constitutions and democracies. Serfdom ended in some jurisdictions, monarchy itself in others. When the reformers (or agitators) arrived at Ernest’s doorstep, rather than make concessions, he threatened to abdicate.
How could the end of an autocratic reign be anything but exactly what liberal reformers were looking for? How could would-be revolutionaries be cowed by a monarch threatening to leave?
Perhaps the people were simply prudent in recognizing the need for a strong leader to oppose a burgeoning Prussian state. It seems hard to believe however, that the populace did not harbor some latent love for their surprisingly competent King. They tried to seize the moment to make demands, and he basically told them to back down if they knew what was good for them. And they did.
Hanover would pass a new constitution in 1851, the same year of King Ernest’s death. Ten years later, a monument to him was erected in a new plaza, the Ernst-August-Platz. His life was intricately involved in some of the greatest upheavals and moments in history; his life connects the American Revolution to fighting Napoleon to the presaging a unified Germany under Prussian leadership. He was old school. He was conservative, even reactionary, before it was edgy and cool; he even managed to put his politics to effective governance.
Taken from Martyn Rady, The Middle Kingdoms
I do! It was fascinating for me because it was almost entirely new material…hugely edifying on an underpopularized history. Not as long as it seems, either, and a beautiful book.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Simon!
Fascinating stuff. Deeply flawed people are just more interesting. No one's writing a one-man play or an opera about Jimmy Carter like people have done for Nixon. Do you recommend The Middle Kingdoms, Chip?