Funerals and Ner'do Wells
2.
On January 1st 1837, King William IV, despite his advanced age and poor health stood before an excited Portsmouth crowd to christen the HMS Acheron, living up to his moniker as the ‘Sailor-King’. Alongside the frail monarch and a motley collection of naval officers and civil servants, journalists from around the world were gathered, for the Acheron was no ordinary vessel. It was the first in a new class of steam-powered ‘paddle-frigates’, designed as commerce raiders and fast-attack ships. The top rung of the Admiralty, the Naval Lords, most of them having served in the great decisive battles of Trafalgar and Copenhagen, scoffed at the idea of the Royal Navy stooping to such
French tactics as privateering. They also, on an aesthetic level, irked at the thought of the graceful ship-of-line being replaced by dwarven, glorified furnaces, sputtering steam and smoke, and causing chaos on the ‘field’ of battle.
However the progressive ideas of famed war hero Sir Charles Napier, along with his recent experiences in the Portuguese Civil War and close connections with Lord Palmerston, meant such innovations could hardly be ignored. They were further reinforced by the King’s own support, who despite his great dislike of the eccentric Napier, agreed with him on technical terms. The paddle-frigate was an extremely fast and resilient design for the period; although unable to produce the firepower of a Man-o-War, it could easily outmanoeuvre the wooden giants as well as receive far more punishment, due to the iron plating of its hull. And so, on a frosty New Years Day, HMS Acheron chugged out into the English Channel, the first of over several dozen of its kind that would be produced in the next decade to ensure Britannia still ruled the waves.
Steam power was increasing on land as well in the early months of 1837. The young railway companies, such as Great Western were sprawling ever further across the country, in time with growth of the new industrial towns and cities. Even in supposedly rural Ireland, the newly fashioned Ulster Railway Company was inching its way down the eastern coast, from Londonderry to Dublin, via Belfast. Aided by the free trade policies of the Whigs, the Emerald Isle’s former role as a mere breadbasket for the Empire was slowly being overshadowed by its newfound industrial output. Although the growth was concentrated in the Protestant north, with Ulster’s numerous textile and furniture factories employing tens of thousands, Dublin and even Cork produced steel was being exported around the world by the mid-1840’s. Similarly the coal industry in South Wales was beginning to take off, as was Scottish shipbuilding on the Firth of Forth, where many of the world’s new steamers would be built for decades to come. Even in far away South Africa, factories were starting to form in the more urban areas around Cape Town, along with the first railway on the Dark Continent, albeit only a half mile long connecting the coastal port to Cape Town’s small industrial area.
An early locomotive
The relative calm of the year (perhaps punctuated somewhat by the continuing civil war in Spain and an aggressive Persia skirmishing with Afghan warlords) suddenly came to an end on June 20th, when King William IV died of a cardiac arrest. As the nation mourned, HM’s Government dealt with the fallout. Lacking legitimate issue (though 8 bastards!), the crown was to be passed to his young niece, Princess Victoria of Kent aged just 19. Although matters such as regency or rival pretenders were of no importance, there was Hanover to contend with. William IV had issued his second Kingdom a liberal constitution, but he had retained the ancient Salic law, which barred females from the throne (his inaction on the issue was possibly intended to cut Westminster and Royal Family out of direct involvement in the ever complicated field of German politics). As such the Hanoverian throne was passed to William’s reactionary younger brother, Ernest Augustus, the Duke of Cumberland. His abolition of the liberal constitution would be a major step in future political unrest in Germany, but that is a tale for another time…
Although the new youthful Queen was welcome by many both home and abroad, a symbol of the glorious new age that Britain would lead the world into, all was not peaceful in the Empire. In British America, or accurately in the provinces of Upper and Lower Canada, unrest was brewing. The oligarchic structure of rule in the colonies, dominated by business magnates and British-born gentry (known as the Family Compact in English-dominated Upper Canada, and the Château Clique amongst the
Quebecois of Lower Canada) rankled greatly with the native working-class and intelligentsia. Inspired by the Great Reform Act, and to a lesser extent Catholic Emancipation amongst the Francophone population, a strong reformist movement developed, determined to democratise British America. However the unresponsive nature of the supposedly liberal Whig government eventually led to radical elements taking violent action.
Queen Victoria 1837
Led by Louis-Joseph Papineau, the paramilitary Society of the Brothers of Liberty rose in rebellion in November, quickly seizing much of the Lower Canadian countryside. Local militias were slow to react, leading to the republican William Mackenzie attempting to emulate Papineau’s actions in Upper Canada in December. However the garrison in nearby York (later Toronto) swiftly crushed the Anglo rebellion. Public support for the rebels quickly rose in the United States, the prize of the “14th Colony” inspiring pan-American fervour. However, President Van Buren was hardly keen to the idea of fighting the old Empire. Indeed, an attempt by a large force of American filibusters, volunteers hoping to unite Canada with Washington by force, to cross the border into Lower Canada was swiftly stopped in upstate New York by the US Army. However the rebellions put down by January 1838, and Lord Durham sent to investigate the obviously flawed system ruling over the North American colonies.