The Zenith of Power: Gameplay Thread

[Spamage]

The Crown and the Mitre (1889-1894)
   The Catholic Republicans in Naples found an unlikely ally in the Vatican. Pope Clement XIV (Luigi Oreglia di Santo Stefano) had been elected to the Papacy in 1886 as a compromise candidate, relying on the votes of the French, Neapolitan, and Spanish delegations. There was a general desire in the Church to avoid the embarrassment of the 1878 Conclave which had been deadlocked as Austria, Naples, Spain, and France had all jockeyed for a majority, the issue only being resolved on the thirty-eighth ballot with the election of the Austrian-backed candidate following a last-minute deal between Vienna and Naples. With the death of that pontiff, Clement was seen as a noncontroversial placeholder, yet another forgettable pope in a century that had seen the authority of the Vatican wane.
   Yet, this was not necessarily to be the case. After a century of subjugation to secular authority, some clerics believed it was time for a more assertive papacy. Clement XIV subscribed to the growing ‘Conciliatory’ movement within the Catholic Church, a theological argument that sought to bridge the divide between the more radical Catholic-Republican factions and the existing Church establishment in the rest of the world. The Conciliatorians argued the faithful were one flock and ought not be divided merely because of the government of their country. While many suspicious conservatives framed this as an effort to bring in the radical Catholic-Republicans from the cold, they found themselves outmaneuvered by a more optimistic, or perhaps naïve, reforming faction in the Church.
   Clement XIV broke with tradition, expanding the college of cardinals through the inclusion of numerous American prelates (primarily from Colombia, Brazil, Mexico, Quebec, and Louisiana). Arguing that a growing number of Catholics now resided in the New World, it was hoped a more geographically representative Church would better serve the needs of all the faithful. While most cardinals still resided in Italy, France, Austria, and Spain (up to 80%), the inclusion of fresh figures undoubtedly changed the calculus for the future of the Church. The Pope was also sympathetic towards calls to reform the Church in line with a changing world, though he held off on announcing any sort of Church Council, especially after Vienna and Naples made it clear such an act would not be tolerated.
   Clement XIV's first overtly political act, and the one that began his feud with King Alfonso III, was the decision to accept the request for sanctuary made by several dozen Catholic Republican dissidents in 1889, fleeing arrest in Naples. When several Roman police officers attempted to enter the Vatican to seize the fugitives, a scuffle broke out with the Swiss Guard. Personally offended, the Pope issued a private protest to King Alfonso, following up with a public sermon condemning those that would persecute the faithful for political gain. Clement had never been warm to Alfonso, having been elevated through the patronage of the deposed Philip V, but previously had been quiet on his opinions.
   Alfonso was outraged by papal meddling, and felt betrayed by the Pope. Priests in Naples were prohibited from reading Clement's statements on the matter to their congregations. The prospect of the seizure of Church estates was raised and arrests of Catholic Republicans were dialed up. Patrols around the Vatican were aimed at preventing further flights into sanctuary by ideological opponents of the regime, though dozens did successfully scale the walls to safety.
   Despite his sympathies for the Catholic-Republicans in Naples, it must be noted that the Pope did not necessarily fully embrace their ideology, having privately condemned the brutality used by the governments in La Plata and Brazil to enforce compliance. Likewise, he overlooked the persecution of Catholic Republicans in Austria, Germany, and Eastern Europe, showing a clear-eyed view of the power dynamics at play. Still, after a century dominated by conservative do-nothings, the presence of a more activist pope was noted by many in Europe, especially given he seemed to be the most open-minded regarding the previously shunned ideology.

Pope Clement XIV
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Francis III (1894-)
The Transition of Power (1894-1900)
   Alfonso III died in 1894, the first major test for the established regime. It was rather sudden, neither supporters nor opponents of the government having time to organize a response. His son, taking the throne as Francis III, was an unknown quantity. Francis had not been brought up to be king, having been 42 when his father had seized the throne during the Quiet Coup. Indeed, his whole childhood and youth had seen him groomed to succeed his mother as the Archduke of Tuscany. He had a much more docile temperament as a result of his upbringing, though seemed earnest in his desire to be a stabilizing influence in Naples. Still, he could point to an impressive pedigree, his mother cementing his ties to the Habsburg Monarchy, while his late wife was a daughter of the beloved King Charles VIII of Naples and sister to the deposed Philip V.
   There were hints of discontent in the weeks following his taking the throne. A growing legitimist movement among liberals and nationalists called for the restoration of the exiled Philip V or his eldest son Prince Louis, protests being met with extreme police force. Attempts by some Catholic Republicans to proclaim a Sicilian Republic in Palermo saw soldiers open fire and kill any malcontents, Pope Clement XIV condemning the new sovereign for the bloodshed just as he had his father. Only in Tuscany, his patrimony, did the new king face no expressions of displeasure for the populace. Though Francis may have been kinder than Alfonso, his government clearly intended to continue the general policies of his father with the backing of the military. Still, the nascent government faced a significant loss in 1898 when General Luigi Acquaviva, the man instrumental in the Quiet Coup and a steadfast link between the Crown and the military, died.
   Though domestic politics seems placid, some in Naples quietly wonder whether this is merely an illusion, the repression of the various populist factions lulling the establishment into a false sense of security. Exiled agitators paint the realm as top-heavy, ready to collapse into infighting the moment that the oppressed populace sense weakness, though other observers argue this is merely wishful thinking, noting the broad conservative sentiments expressed by a significant portion of society. Still, it is noted that the ultranationalists, weaned with the dramatic Italian vision of Philip V, have started to come of age. What that too could mean for the kingdom remains to be seen.

King Francis III, Heir to an Uncertain Future, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Spain: A Nation Damaged

Zaragoza, the new Spanish capital, 1890
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Ramon Nouvilas (1876-1881)
Reconstruction (1876-1881)
   With the conclusion of the Spanish Civil War and the triumph of the Catholic Republicans, President Nouvilas governed a broken nation. The people were tired of war, thousands had been dislocated by the fighting, and it was felt as though the Spanish culture had been irrevocably damaged by the intense conflict. The remainder of the 1870s saw extensive efforts made to repair infrastructure, modernize the ruined cities, and unite the divided populace. Madrid, though partially repaired, would not reassume its former glory. That city remained a backwater, seen as a haven of liberalism, and the capital was relocated to Zaragoza permanently.
   Two major factions emerged in the government: the Church and the military. Both had been instrumental in supporting and carrying out the revolution, but they now found themselves at loggerheads. Most military leaders balked at the calls of radical clerics for further revolutionary acts, such as the imposition of a surveillance force or a renewal of the inquisition. The Church, meanwhile, perceived the generals as constantly siphoning off gold from the state coffers with their demands for raises and improved benefits. They also distrusted the religious convictions of most officers, pushing for the chaplains to be provided with disciplinary powers, a proposition staunchly detested by the general’s staff. Only the strong leadership of Nouvilas kept any feuding at bay.
   While Nouvilas had come to power at the head of a Catholic-Republican movement, the man himself was far more of a Catalan nationalist than a religious radical, and this showed in his governance. He often tended to side with his fellow soldiers over the clerics in the Cortes. While initial policies such as the redistribution of land were not reversed, the government shied away from repressive tactics along the lines of La Plata. Spain aligned itself with the moderate Catholic Republic in Colombia, signed a defensive pact with Naples, and dropped the proscriptions against the emigrants that had been enacted in the immediate aftermath of the conflict. Church leaders could only watch with disdain as they felt their movement was slowly betrayed by the very man who had established it.
   Yet, Nouvilas had little time to savor his role as president, falling ill and dying in 1881. Naturally, there were some suspicions of foul play, given the President was just 68, but nothing was ever definitively proven. Just several years after his victory, the leadership of the nation was once again questioned. Well aware of any potential power-vacuum, on his deathbed Nouvilas made it clear General Rafael Tristany, one of his primary aides in the former conflict and a fellow Catalan, would succeed him. The late president was given a funeral fitting of one of the late Bourbon monarchs, a massive public ceremony aimed at further cementing the triumph of the Catholic-Republican regime.

Rafael Tristany, Second President of the Holy Union of Spain
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Rafael Tristany (1881-1893)
The Center Under Siege (1881-1884)
   Tristany was proclaimed president with little opposition just hours after the death of Nouvilas on June 6th, 1881, confirmed with a voice vote in both the Chamber of Deputies and the Cortes. From the start, he emphasized his was to be a government of continuity and this sentiment would characterize his tenure. Though critics would charge that his leadership would lead to the stagnation of the Holy Union of Spain, especially as it assumed a reactive role to global developments, Tristany believed that the country lacked the capability to be a major player on the global stage until the wounds had healed. By 1881 Spain had yet to recover to its pre-war population, a milestone that would only be reached in 1886, 16 years on from the start of the Spanish Civil War.
   Tristany’s government was immediately plagued by intrigue. Beyond the existing tensions between the Army and the Church, royalists and liberals lurked in the wings, each waiting for their own chance to seize control. Nationalist jealousies likewise hindered unity in the Catholic-Republican cause. The long-exiled King Henry V reportedly saw the death of Nouvilas as his chance to launch a restoration campaign, only being dissuaded by his host Emperor Philip of Quebec who believed that lingering exhaustion from the Spanish Civil War would undermine the royalist cause.
   That did not stop the King’s supporters from taking action. The mutiny of several dozen royalist soldiers in Santiago de Compostella ignited a regional protest in Galicia in late 1881, rebels aiming to open up the port of Vigo to royalist vessels. Galicia was one of the regions most loyal to the deposed Crown, many civilians backing the mutiny. Only the resolve of the local general Arsenio Linares y Pombo kept the situation under control, the failure of the royalists to seize Vigo resulting in the quick implosion of their movement. Tristany dubbed Linares a “Champion of the Republic” and rewarded him at a ceremony at the Cathedral of Zaragoza. What followed this flash of unrest in Galicia was a suppression of all things deemed royalist, soldiers rooting out what they saw as disloyalty to the regime.
   The liberals were just as active and better organized than the royalists, many clandestine networks of opposition dating all the way back to the Civil War. Both the Church and the military were filled with crypto-liberals, the unrest of the civil war having made verifying loyalty to the regime rather difficult. Their attempt to topple Tristany’s regime manifested itself with the Andalusian Rising (1882-1883), a mass rebellion in Southern Spain seeking to reignite the old conflict. Initially the movement seemed promising, several divisions of soldiers defecting and former liberal officers pouring in from their self-imposed exiles in Britain, Austria, and Naples. Ramón Blanco, one of Serrano’s former lieutenants, led the movement from Granada, proclaiming the Second Spanish Republic.
   Yet, without much foreign support, the cause quickly faded. By mid-1883 any momentum for the rebel cause had evaporated, the purported liberal army morphing into local guerilla resistance, which did little to endear them to the local populace. Granada itself was easily captured in May 1883, Ramon Blanco fleeing back to exile in Britain as his movement floundered. Tristany proclaimed that the Holy Union was under siege from satanic enemies within and without, preparing a systemic review of the loyalty of all members of civil society in order to prevent further scheming.

Fall of Granada, 1883
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Plot of 1885 and Aftermath (1885-1891)
   No longer held in check by respect for Nouvilas, the Church seized on his death to reassert itself and take a leading role in the regime. Annoyance with the military-led Holy Union had been growing for quite some time. While the government preached Catholic doctrine and organized itself in line with other Catholic Republics, it was still primarily a military dictatorship. Radical clerics found themselves repeatedly sidelined and it was clear that Nouvilas, and later Tristany, were counting on the attrition of time to weed out outspoken clerics who could be replaced by moderates after their deaths. Though the Church controlled the Cortes by design, they often found themselves locked out of decision-making.
   The suppression of the Andalusian Rising and subsequent commitment to purge the government of those deemed loyal to the opposition alarmed many clerics, who saw it as an excuse for the government to meddle in the Church and remove any that stood against it. Archbishop-Cardinal Antolín Monescillo y Viso of Toledo, the head of the Spanish Church and governor of the province of New Castile, organized a broad conspiracy to assassinate Tristany, topple the regime, and reorganize the Spanish Union on more radical lines. Monescillo alleged that he had support from Brazil, who was seeking to dislodge Spain from its Colombian alliance after the split in 1885, though hard evidence of this never materialized. There was also a nationalist component to this plot as well, the Castilian prelate having grown tired of "rule by Catalans."
   The plan was for Tristany to be assassinated on the streets of Zaragoza, at which point the bishop-led Cortes would declare its right to replace the deceased president. Monescillo would take the role, setting up an Archbishop-Presidency like in the other Catholic Republics. While some organized opposition was expected in the military, the conspirators believed that the common soldiers were fundamentally faithful and would rise up against their officers after hearing the call.
   Yet, as fate would have it, the movement failed. Tristany had long been monitoring high-ranking clergymen and when the Archbishop of Zaragoza carelessly forgot some of his written plans, they fell into the government’s possession. Without proof implicating the others, it was decided it would be best to let the plot proceed and the others incriminate themselves. A week before the Plot of 1885 was to be enacted, the Franciscan monk assigned with the assassination was arrested, as were most clerics. Monescillo and the others were incarcerated in Burgos without trial.
   A full-scale purge of the Church was avoided, though Tristany distributed pamphlets throughout the nation framing the plotters as agents of Satan. He was keen to avoid the sort of authoritarian displays that were increasingly in vogue, a sentiment many of his supporters disagreed with. Still, it was now unquestionable that the military was the primary apparatus of the Spanish Holy Union, with the Church as a subordinate body. While Tristany could not have the incarcerated prelates removed from their bishoprics, and the Vatican steadfastly stood up for their cause (especially after the elevation of Clement XIV in 1886), regents were set up in the sees to conduct the secular business of government. As the men died in captivity new, loyalist bishops began to fill the Cortes.
   Public reaction was fairly muted, the people bought off with a wide package of reforms increasing worker’s rights, standardizing hours, and providing recourse for wrongs. While most Catholic Republicans fell in line with punishing the conspirators, the irreconcilable radicals mostly drifted in a different direction, either towards reactionary-socialism or more intense forms of regional nationalism. Yet another strand of political thought joined the ideological laundry list of opponents of the regime as Tristany portrayed his government as holding the center down in the face of royalist, liberal, and radical attacks.

Archbishop-Cardinal Antolín Monescillo y Viso of Toledo; Shortly Before the Plot of 1885
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Arsenio Linares y Pombo (1891- )
Ending Stagnation (1891-1895)
   With Tristany's death in 1891 it was feared there would be yet more power struggles, but the transition would prove to be smooth, opposition within the government having been eliminated after the Plot of 1885. General Arsenio Linares y Pombo, the ‘Champion of the Republic’, was chosen as Tristany’s successor by the Cortes and House of Deputies. He was a man who had crushed royalism, enjoyed national support, and embraced the established order. Yet, while a product of the regime, Linares sought to rejuvenate the ailing Holy Union and bring about a more assertive Spanish policy.
   While Spain’s population had recovered from the Civil War, economic growth lagged behind. Many European powers had avoided doing business with the Holy Union, wary of its Catholic Republican roots. At the same time the government had consistently villainized the bourgeoise and capitalist classes, curtailing large-scale private enterprise. The result had been economic stagnation during the days of Tristany, Spain beginning to lag behind the rest of Europe. It was notable that Zaragoza's largest trading partner was Colombia, a whole ocean away.
   Linares sought to change this, hoping a dynamic, growing economy would catapult Spain back into a major European power player. Alfonso's Quiet Coup in Naples had strained Spanish ties with their nominal ally, so they had to look elsewhere. Despite acting as a haven for political refugees, Britain proved all too eager to open up an economic relationship with the Holy Union. As it had done in Colombia, Britain used the opening of Spanish markets as a means of commercially enriching itself. Spain, meanwhile, did benefit from technological improvements, though some workers lamented tying the Holy Union to such a capitalistic state. In addition to trade, Linares embarked on a substantial spending spree, using Colombian, New Holland, and British financing to embark on programs aimed to increase the productivity of farms, expand ports, and improve internal transportation.

[Spamage]

Spain Awakens (1895-1900)
    With the turn of the century, Spain has finally stabilized. With a growing population and economy, many hope that the worst days are behind them. Yet, the future of the Holy Union is unclear. Increasingly, some factions within the government call for "Colombian Reforms" to be implemented, resulting in an opening of the political process to the disenfranchised masses. Linares, despite his flexibility on economic matters, has thus far refused these calls. Himself a committed Catholic, he has shown little inclination to weaken the power of the Church.
   The Spanish people had little appetite for any sort of foreign adventures or diplomatic affairs and, as a result, the country had largely operated as a non-aligned power as Europe split into the French, Austrian, and Russian camps. As the turn of the century approached, many questioned if this attitude would be sustainable, especially in the aftermath of major developments such as the Danube Crisis.

Arsenio Linares y Pombo, Third President of the Holy Union of Spain
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Mexico: Collapse of the Old Order

Mexico City, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

King Luis I (1876-1888)
The Rough Peace (1876-1880)
   The Kingdom of Mexico had been on the winning side of the North American War, though many in the realm felt they had been short-changed. Despite the tremendous economic sacrifices inflicted by the punishing British blockade, Mexican territorial gains were far less substantial than those of Quebec, Louisiana, and New England. Whereas those powers had won extensive territories around the Great Lakes, Caribbean, and New York respectively, Mexico had only won Belize, Barbados, and Guadaloupe. In a rare show of defiance to the beloved sovereign, several dozen members of the Lower Assembly boycotted the King’s speech celebrating the end of hostilities. Nationalists pointed to the sacrifice of the brave sailors during the Battle of Campeche and argued that the government had betrayed their memory by not extracting larger concessions.
   This incident would be symptomatic of the later reign of King Luis I. By the 1880s, some felt the government was getting a bit tired. As the king entered his 70s and then 80s, he was seen as a shadow of the young man that had led the Mexican people to victory in the 1830s. While Luis himself was personally quite popular, this masked growing discontent behind the scenes. It was taboo to criticize the king himself, but this did not stop critics from savaging the bicameral National Assembly. Likewise, Prime Minister José María Gutiérrez de Estrada was portrayed as an inept buffoon. While first-past-the-post voting kept more radical groups out of government, it also increased their willingness to operate outside of the system.

Bubble of 1880 and Recovery (1880-1885)
   The most significant development in the reign of Luis I after the conclusion of the North American War was the Bubble of 1880 and the ensuing economic fallout. Eager to bolster growth and rid itself of a surplus of public lands, the Mexican government had offered surveyors one quarter of land for free and rights to purchase the remaining three fourths at cost in 1875. This led to a bonanza, hundreds of surveying companies set up on short notice as the elites poured their funds into an exciting investment opportunity. With the Treaty of Albany and an end to the blockade, this coincided with the resumption of immigration from Europe. Land prices soared, speculators seeming to have found a goldmine of opportunity.
   Surveyors were accused of corrupt practices, including the abuse and forcible removal of those “found” to be residing on public lands. Indeed, a good deal of resentment to the rapacious urban elites was stoked by the boom. Inflated parcels of often worthless land were sold to unwitting immigrants at inflated prices, leaving them nearly destitute as their savings were depleted. Likewise, the quality of the surveying was often questioned, any capable individual able to pose as a surveyor. The small middle class felt excluded from potential economic gains as nobles, capitalists, and those with existing sources of wealth just further compounded their savings. Needless to say, the buildup to the Bubble of 1880 went a long way to increasing already significant class tensions in Mexico.
  Yet, the party was not to last. The bubble burst on March 5th, 1880 when one previously deemed reliable surveying company was forced into bankruptcy, land prices having evidently climbed too high for would-be buyers and the company over-leveraged. Throughout the spring, land prices began to descend, leading to stock sell-offs, which then forced further offloading landholdings. As the share prices stumbled, more and more companies were forced into bankruptcy. Stock for the companies went unsold, thousands seeking to cash out before their savings were made worthless. Even, embarrassingly, some members of the Royal Family were caught up in the crash, King Luis’ second son Prince Augustine losing thousands of pesos in the crisis.
   The bursting of the bubble spread to additional sectors of the economy. Losing money on their loans caused banks to withhold financing and seek to increase their capital reserves. Bank runs in Mexico City, Veracruz, and León saw some driven to insolvency. As other companies followed the surveyors into bankruptcy, unable to operate with the higher interest rates demanded by banks, the urban areas began to fill with the unemployed. The conservative government, staffed by the very elites that had participated in the speculation crisis, rapidly moved to guarantee the savings of depositors, in effect shielding them from potential losses. While this brought some semblance of stability to the banking system, the vast, unbanked masses felt it was a reward for risky behavior. Likewise, a scheme guaranteeing a minimum amount of return for investors who turn their shares over to the government was detested by the left, which viewed such blatant corruption as unacceptable.
   All of this took place in the backdrop of the Election of 1880, the second vote under Mexico’s Constitutional Charter of 1872. While Catholic Republicans were barred from running, other radical strains of thought were not. Socialist, nationalist, anarchist, indigenous, and regionalist parties all campaigned alongside the existing conservative, reactionary, and liberal parties. Socialist tirades against the corruption of the existing government and its role in the Bubble of 1880 drew mass crowds and support from the downtrodden. Nationalists mocked the decision to make French a coequal language to Spanish and reiterated anger over Mexico’s abuse in the Treaty of Albany. Liberals called for the government to put the unemployed to work with modernization schemes and for investigation. Conservatives, meanwhile, framed the novel opposition parties as seeking to impose French radicalism on the people and defended the government’s actions in the ongoing economic crisis.
   The conservatives were saved by the first-past-the-post system of government, maintaining a narrow majority in the Lower House of 128 seats out of 250. Many districts had them winning with a mere 30% of the vote, the opposition too divided and expansive to yield a coherent message. The liberals carried 81 districts, aided by their compactness, support primarily coming from urban areas. The socialists had gained 32 seats, despite a respectable 19% of the national vote, with smaller parties taking the rest. For the regional assemblies, the more radical opposition did better, taking control of Yucatan, Oaxaca, and Chiapas thanks to a robust showing for indigenous parties. Notably, a woman, socialist Dolores Jiménez y Muro won a seat in San Luis Potosi, despite females being barred from the vote. There was a sense of disappointment as King Luis appointed his second prime minister, conservative Jose Maria Roa Barcena, many feeling like a true opportunity for change had been missed, given the seven-year mandate of government.
   Barcena’s tenure saw a slow recovery from the misery of the Bubble of 1880. Attempts to rein in the more radical actions of the opposition-held regions came to dominate the political scene throughout the 1880s. When Yucatan legalized unions and there was a series of strikes, Barcena and King Luis ordered in soldiers and countermanded the laws of the region, drawing protest from the local assembly which went so far as to censure the King. Little came of this and some felt they had overplayed their hand by doing so. Barcena’s primary concern was to preserve order, demonstrated repeatedly by a bolstering of urban police forces, clampdowns on strikes, and enhanced protections for the estates of the Church and nobility. The opposition grew incensed meanwhile, as the eventual recovery relied on extensive foreign investment and continued immigration, which some socialist leaders felt undermined the strength of their labor movement.

Twilight of the Father of the Nation (1885-1888)
   Mexico hosted elaborate celebrations for Luis’ Golden Jubilee in 1885, dozens of foreign dignitaries watching ceremonies incorporating Indigenous, Spanish, French, and Louisianan themes. Playing on Augustus’ famous lines, Luis was proclaimed to have “found Mexico a city of torches and left it a city of electricity.” Indeed, whatever the criticisms, his remarkably long reign had defined the epoch. Mexico proper’s population had more than doubled from 6 million at his coronation to 13 million in 1888. Railroads crisscrossed the land, cities were rapidly expanding, and the nation’s nascent industrial capacity had begun to increase. Taking the throne of a war-torn viceroyalty, Mexico had been molded into a modern power under his leadership.
   The Election of 1887 demonstrated that the future after King Luis would be more uncertain. Determined not to be bested by the first-past-the-post system, the socialists formed an electoral alliance with the indigenous parties (dubbing itself the People’s Alliance) and organized a no-contest agreement with the liberals in numerous districts. As a result, the vote led to a far different result in 1887, no single group garnering a majority. The conservatives found themselves reduced to 102 seats, the liberals at 79, and the People’s Alliance garnering 55, the remainder of the seats going to nationalists or independents.
   While the obvious path to a majority was a coalition of the Liberals and the People’s Alliance, King Luis leaned heavily on the more moderate Liberals to back the conservatives. The aged monarch was wary of the radicalism of the socialist movement, convincing enough liberals to defect in order to confirm yet another conservative government led by Félix María Zuloaga. He argued that the conservatives had received the most popular vote, ignoring the non-competition agreement between the other two factions. The king got his wish, but his meddling saw a schism form between the 38 liberals that defected to vote in favor of Zuloaga’s government and the 41 that remained in the opposition. This crippling of the liberal movement would come back to haunt his heir.

King Luis I, During the Celebration of his Golden Jubilee, 1885
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

King Felipe (1888-1893)
Tenuous Coalition (1888-1891)
   Luis died on April 17th, 1888, ending a reign of 53 years. Most Mexicans could not remember a time without him leading the nation. His son, King Felipe, had been groomed to rule his whole life, giving numerous addresses over the years to the National Assembly on his father’s behalf. For better or worse, this meant he was tied to Luis’ political legacy, but lacked his authority. Had Luis died a decade or two earlier, this may not have mattered, but the actions of the late king since 1880 had only served to embolden his opponents. In particular, the meddling of the Crown in the government had given that role a decidedly partisan sheen.
   From the start, the new king was challenged, pent up frustrations from decades being vented at long last. The coronation was held amid great fanfare in Mexico City, but the opposition criticized the expense at a time when many Mexicans were struggling. The leadership of the People’s Alliance went so far as to boycott the ceremony, lowering the new king’s opinion of them.
   Strikes among agricultural and mining workers proliferated throughout 1889, clandestinely organized by trade unions seeking to test the limits of the new monarch. Inspired by the British government’s handling of the Manchester Strike, Felipe proved particularly resolute in his response, ordering mass arrests, strikebreaking operations, and prohibiting protests in the name of public order. Chastened, most workers returned to their posts, but the incident left a lasting impression of the King in the minds of Mexico’s working class. Without Luis I’s authority to keep them in line, the fragile coalition government collapsed in July 1891, forcing an election three years early. A group of Coalition Liberals, discontented over the handling of the strikes, broke with Prime Minister Zuloaga and rejoined the opposition.

Mexican Mine Workers, A Key Constituency for the People's Alliance
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Election of 1891 and Aftermath (1891-1892)
   From the start, it was evident that the Election of 1891 would be extremely significant. Frustrated over the late King Luis’ scheming to keep the conservatives in power, the People’s Alliance grew yet further with the Compact of Colima, which saw the nationalists agree to campaign alongside the socialists and indigenous parties in exchange for concessions relating to military expenditure and Mexico’s diplomatic policies. While the Opposition Liberals sought to join the electoral alliance, they were castigated as being complicit in the current state of Mexican society. The conservatives framed Mexico as under siege from the Red Terror once more, calling on patriots to save the country from radicalism. Campaigning was heated, rallies descending into riots all throughout the country.
   When the votes were counted, the near-unthinkable had occurred; the People’s Alliance won a majority of seats in the Lower House, carrying 137 to the conservative’s 86 and the Opposition Liberals 27. Liberal strength had been utterly shattered given the infighting in the party, while the conservatives were at long last forced to reckon with their increasingly unpopular record. The triumph of the People’s Alliance consisted of sweeping victories to the south and north of the capital. Mexico City itself remained a haven of the Opposition Liberals, while the conservatives excelled in the far north of the country.
   King Felipe was at a loss for what to do. As sovereign, he was tasked with the selection of a Prime Minister, but he could hardly stomach any of the leaders of the People’s Alliance. Most of the new members were young firebrands and the electoral base of that movement consisted primarily of the middle and lower classes, leaving him with few leaders of sufficient standing in his own eyes to take the role. Only the intervention of the Crown Prince Luis, who had connections within the People’s Alliance, saved the situation. Amador Salazar Jiménez, an up-jumped socialist organizer from one of the nation’s vast estates, found himself summoned by the king and named the new head of government.
   Prime Minister Salazar found himself boxed in from the start, the Upper House fully staffed by King Felipe’s appointees. Further attempts at land reform, building on early efforts during the reign of Luis I were voted down. Legalization of collective bargaining was also stymied. Efforts to tax foreign investment did pass, but found themselves extremely watered down by the conservative higher-ups.
   The ‘Thirty Hours Session’ held in the Lower House on October 19th, 1891 was a direct attempt by the Prime Minister to illustrate his point. In a rapid-fire session, the whole People’s Alliance wish list was passed piece by piece in the Lower House, the Upper House opening up a counter-session where items were then introduced there only to be voted down. The conservatives and liberals in the Lower House boycotted the proceedings. The political temperature continued to rise, the various delegates returning to their homes fired up over the continued stalemate. The King, in a decidedly direct statement, damned Prime Minister Salazar by name for undermining the confidence of the people in their government. Salazar, incensed, countered by lambasting the King in public, accusing him of stymying the voice of the people.
   This situation could not endure. Publicly, factions were forming. The King was supported by the landowning elites and nobility, northern Mexico, the Church, most of the armed forces, and the urban elites. Salazar was staunchly defended by the common sailors in the navy, urban workers, the peasantry and indigenous population, and the educated youth. There were private calls for him to emulate Alfonso III of Naples and shutter the legislature, force new elections, and suppress the People’s Alliance, but King Felipe was too invested in the existing system his father had established. 
   Most damaging for the King was feuding within the royal house. The Crown Prince, Luis, was rather different than his namesake grandfather. Born in 1870 and coming of age in a Mexico still reeling from the Bubble of 1880, he had become profoundly sympathetic to the left-wing causes permeating society. Luis and his more conservative father often feuded, the relationship becoming outright hostile after the prince was coerced into marrying Princess Frederica of Quebec in 1891 against his will. Chafing against his father’s control, young Luis idolized his first-cousin-once-removed, the French sovereign Louis XX. The Crown Prince was not subtle in his backing of Salazar’s policies over those of his own father.

Campaign Rally of the People's Alliance, 1892
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

[Spamage]

Election of 1892 and the Abdication (1892-1893)
   Hoping to salvage the situation and restore a degree of order, the King unilaterally dissolved the government on February 5th, 1892, calling for a new round of elections. Felipe said that he was fully committed to Mexican democracy, but that the prospect had been undermined by demagogues such as the Prime Minister. Salazar attempted to salvage the situation, declaring that the King could not make such a major move on his own, but found himself outmaneuvered and placed under arrest for trespassing in the capitol building after the dismissal of government. Likewise, the People’s Alliance delegates who refused to leave the floor of the legislature were forcibly ejected by soldiers under the command of the king’s brother Prince Augustine.
   It was hoped the arrest of Salazar would have a chilling effect on the left-wing movement, but the opposite proved to be the case. On May 10th, 1892, despite the Crown having clearly taken sides in the vote and a deliberate effort to suppress the votes of the left, the People’s Alliance gained seats, emerging with 152 compared to 98 for the conservatives and liberals. Many voters were incensed with the meddling of Felipe in the business of government and exhausted with the role of the Upper House in preventing policies from being enacted. Indeed, the calls for reform of the Upper House had been rewarded by the electorate.
   What the King and his allies ignored were the lasting anger towards their policies after decades of conservative government. The Bubble of 1880, influx of foreign investors, and continued wealth iniquity only served to exacerbate class tensions in a stratified society. It seemed as the conservatives were only willing to play by the rules of the constitution when it suited them, but undermined them in underhanded ways when the opposition enjoyed successes. Ensconced in their bubble, they could not understand the frustrations of the average voter with the existing order. At the same time, the subtle influence of events in France demonstrated to the socialists that they need not surrender to the old order.
   Felipe was dejected. He had staked his whole reputation on denouncing the rise of what he saw as dangerous radicals, only to be undermined by the increasingly confident Mexican people. His own son and heir had come over to the side of his enemies, while the future of the country seemed doomed. Both Quebec and Louisiana urged more decisive action, as did portions of the conservative movement, but the king was humiliated and unwilling to escalate the crisis, fearing revolution. In a speech aimed at soothing tensions, he announced a new willingness to compromise with the new government, pardoned Salazar, and named a more moderate Prime Minister José María Pino Suárez. The Crown Prince was given an audience with his father, where they ostensibly made up, embracing one another.
   Both sides played nice at first, moderate reform carrying the day through the remainder of the year. Under Suárez’s leadership, acting as an honest broker, a progressive income tax system was enacted. Railroads and electrical firms were nationalized to the chagrin of some capitalists, but the People’s Alliance was willing to hold back on larger-scale disruptions to the economy for the time being. Collective bargaining was not legalized nationwide, but the National Assembly agreed that the regions could decide to permit it at their discretion.
   Yet, this fragile peace shattered as details of a conservative plot against the regime emerged in January 1893. Though King Felipe had been unaware of the scheming, his brother Prince Augustine, General Miguel Miramón, and former Prime Minister Zuloaga had coordinated an effort to topple the government, declare a state of emergency a la Naples, and enforce a new, harsher constitution on the kingdom. The men had been given extensive aid from financiers in British America, Louisiana, and Quebec, all wary of further nationalizations of foreign property. The news roiled society, the plotters fleeing to Cuba and the protection of the Louisianan government. Protests erupted, denouncing King Felipe and going so far as to call for the deposition of the monarchy.
   Prime Minister Suárez confessed to the King days after the news had broken that he had lost control of the Lower House, the tepid cooperation of the People’s Alliance with the Upper House now dead. Salazar, who had kept a low profile, reemerged, seeking his old job back and openly denounced the incumbent Prime Minister as a conservative plant. Seeing the writing on the wall, King Felipe decided the best action for the future of the realm would be his abdication. While initially seeking to bar his son Luis from succeeding him, trying to name his eldest daughter Fernanda as his heir, his wishes were ignored. Felipe’s abdication took effect on February 7th, 1893. After spending fifty years of his life preparing for the throne, he had ruled for less than five. Defeated, Felipe moved to exile at the court of his cousin Henry-Phillippe in New Orleans where he died in 1898.

Protests Against Monarchy After Plot of 1893
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

King Luis II (1893-)
The Red King (1893-1900)
   Luis II, dubbed the ‘Red Prince’ by conservatives, was now the ‘Red King’. The first telegraph of congratulations for the new king came from his cousin at the court of Versailles, a clear sign of who Luis II’s foreign admirers were. From the outset, he paradoxically demonstrated himself a jealous defender of royal authority and a proponent of the long-desired reforms, aiming to co-opt the People’s Alliance for his own purposes. Former Prime Minister Salazar, long a thorn in his father’s side and a onetime ally of the new king, was mysteriously assassinated just weeks after he had taken the throne, a move that raised many eyebrows. Treated as a hero of the People, Salazar was laid to rest in an elaborate funeral in Mexico City, Luis II and his wife Queen Frederica themselves in attendance. While the King denounced the exiled conservatives as responsible, many noted how he was the beneficiary of the man’s death.
   One of the first actions of the new sovereign was an outright replacement of the long obstinate Upper House. Staffed with his father’s and grandfather’s appointees, Luis sought to leave his own stamp on the body. Dozens of delegates were dismissed in order to refashion its political outlook, some having served for over twenty years. Tomás Mejía Camacho, one such delegate, gave voice to the sense of unease felt by the establishment, stating “We are at the whims of a young tyrant”. Conservatives, nobles, and the old establishment saw the young headstrong king as a usurper.
   Free from any conservative veto, a bevy of reforms were passed in order to placate the numerous factions within the People's Alliance. Laws regulating working conditions were rolled out and all foreign-owned business entities were forced to separate from their ownership or face nationalization. In order to appease the nationalists, Luis formally ended the use of French at court, reversed his grandfather's recognition of it as a coequal language, and barred its teaching in Mexico's schools. Building on this, Mexico also suspended its participation in the North American Alliance, Luis II arguing that his grandfather had been duped in the Treaty of Albany. Seeing the loyalty to his father in the Mexican Army, officers were extensively rotated or replaced, in order to weaken the bonds of loyalty between the officers and the common soldiers. Nobles were barred from unilateral military appointments, which were now to go to those seen as more loyal to the King, regardless of their social class.
   Eager to placate the Church, seeing it as a means of controlling the more conservative-minded peasants who were wary of radical action, Luis and the Archbishop Próspero Alarcón of Mexico City negotiated the Concordat of 1893 with the blessing of Pope Clement XIV. The Church was protected from property confiscation and taxation, but agreed to not oppose the government and to back the King's anti-poverty efforts. The Church in Mexico, long shielded from the Catholic Republican sentiments of South America, had traditionally backed the Crown, so returning to the fold of the new king felt natural, even if he was far more radical than his predecessors. Prelates such as Alarcón had increasingly come to denounce capitalist excess and the poverty it inspired, so backing reform came easy.
   While these actions inspired dread from the establishment, they felt secure so long as they themselves were unmolested. That changed with the introduction of the Repossession Act. Despite the best efforts of the late King Luis I to ensure the creation of a class of smallholders, many rural Mexicans remained as tenants on larger estates of the elites. While not serfs, and free to sell their labor, they still faced extensive economic challenges in the form of high rents and local oligopolies of business elites who manipulated prices as they saw fit. The Repossession Act aimed at eliminating this state of affairs once and for all. Any tenant that had resided on the same plot of land for twenty years, or their family had held the land for the same period, could assume ownership of it from its existing landlord, with the government reimbursing the landlord at half the assessed price. The Mexican Censuses of 1875 and 1890 were deemed sufficient proof to establishing proof of residency. Luis strongly backed the measure, carving out exceptions solely for the Church and the royal patrimony, which were deemed essential organs of the government. The measure was adopted on August 10th, 1893 to go in effect the following spring.

Luis II of Mexico, 'the Red King', 1893
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Border War and Retribution (1894-1900)
   The conservatives did not take Luis’ actions lying down, the government’s authority over northern Mexico ebbing in 1894. The passage of the Repossession Act at long last forced them to take action, armed rebellion breaking out at last. Several regional assemblies held by the conservatives banded together, passing resolutions declaring that King Luis was a usurper of his father's throne. Sonora was the first, followed shortly by Mexican California, Chihuahua, and Coahuila. While the exiled King Felipe showed himself unwilling to act, his brother Prince Augustine seized the leadership of the movement, dubbing himself "Regent of Mexico" and damning his nephew. He was joined by the aged conservative Tomás Mejía Camacho, a respected general from the North American War as acting Prime Minister. Proclaiming that Felipe’s abdication was illegal, this movement rapidly pushed south into Durango and Sinaloa, numerous battalions of conservative soldiers mutinying. They benefitted from geography, their remoteness deterring an immediate response. Louisiana conveniently served as a source of weapons and advice, though the government in New Orleans steadfastly maintained that it recognized Luis II. The Kingdom of Mexico was divided into the Royalists and the Augustinians.
   Support for the rebellion was more muted in the south, the common people rallying to the side of King Luis II. Hopes for an all-out civil war were dashed. When conservative nobles and landholders fled to the opposition court at Chihuahua, their tenants often seized their land in their absence, forcibly breaking up the vast estates that remained as a legacy of Spanish colonialism. Revolutionary sentiment swept through the Mexican heartland, businesses and homes of those deemed anti-government finding themselves brutalized by mob violence. Most conservative and liberal voters among the common classes decided it was easier to keep their heads down and comply rather than risk their lives in the heart of Royalist territory.
   The defections in the military essentially gave the king a free-hand to refashion the force and further cement its loyalty to him. Those officers who still dared to question the king found themselves either sidelined or dismissed as the 'Border War' erupted. The conflict was so named for the illicit aid flowing into Mexico from Louisiana. Fighting proved challenging for both sides. Peasant militias, still loyal to the crown despite the defection of their home regions, raided supply lines in the north, while an Augustinian push on Monterrey saw the city captured in late 1894, but extensively damaged in the process.
   The capture of Monterrey was the high-point for the rebellion. While foreign support prolonged their cause, they simply lacked the numbers to compete with the increasingly Royalist Mexican Army. Luis II was personally on the field at the Battle of Durango that saw rebel leaders forced into the city, which was shelled into submission in mid-1895. The victory at Durango coincided with the birth of a royal heir, Prince Guillermo, a development portrayed by the Church as divine support for the Royalist cause.  
   With the fall of Durango the way to Chihuahua was open. That city, the heartland of the brief Augustinian uprising, fell in early 1896 during the last convulsions of the brief rebellion. Rather than return to a life of exile, Prince Augustine surrendered in person on January 15th, 1896. He and the would-be Prime Minister Tomás Mejía Camacho were executed without trial by firing squad just a week later, a move that shocked royal families all throughout the continent.
   Victory in the rebellion cemented the sovereign's already extensive authority. Luis II engaged in a campaign of retribution against his enemies. Officers who had taken up arms for the Augustinians were forced into exile, facing treason trials should they return, most going to either Louisiana, Colombia, or British America. Likewise, nobles that had refused the King's call to surrender after the Fall of Durango in 1895 had their lands confiscated, titles removed, and were barred from holding office. Opposition newspapers were shuttered under the pretext of public decency, while the common Augustinian soldiers were required to swear an oath of loyalty to the Crown. The territories that had attempted to secede saw their regional assemblies formally shuttered indefinitely, falling under the direct control of the crown.  
   Eager to demonstrate he was following his grandfather's constitution, and would not be outright suppressing the vote like in France, Luis II held elections as planned in 1899. Yet, with a growing atmosphere of repression and some instances of outright vote-rigging, the result was a foregone conclusion. In the 1899 Mexican election, the People's Alliance won 208 seats, those few brave conservatives still willing to campaign reduced to 33 and the liberals down to just 9. The Mexican government would remain pliant to the wishes of the sovereign.  
  

Victorious Royalist Soldiers in the Later Stages of the Border War, 1895
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Schism in the House of Bourbon (1892-1900)
   Diplomatically, the early reign of Luis II had seen a realignment in Mexican diplomacy. The King capitalized on an existing resentment of Louisiana dating back to the North American War. For decades many felt the haughty Louisianans had treated Mexico as an extension of themselves merely because Luis I had been the son of King Louis-Philippe. This could not stand, especially after the Border War. Indeed, the rift between Mexico and Louisiana seemed only to grow given New Orleans' role as a haven for the exiled Augustinians. From the Louisianan perspective, meanwhile, Mexico had become a center of disorder in North America, its unrest threatening to spill over into Louisianan territory and upset the tenuous balance that had been achieved between the Francophone, Anglophone, and Liberian constituencies.
   On a more personal level, the once-close ties between Louisiana and Mexico were diluted by the passage of time. Whereas King Luis I was the brother of the Louisianan King Philippe earlier in the century, Luis II was a first-cousin-once removed of Henry-Philippe and the two men had never even met. While their Hohenzollern wives were niece and aunt, those ties were clouded by the disputed Quebecois succession. In terms of guidance, Luis II looked more towards his mother’s Mexican Cámara family or relatives in Paris rather than his Orleanist cousins to the north.
   This rift seriously undermined the former stability of the North American alliance. Coupled as it was with the disputed succession in the Empire of Quebec, it changed the calculus in the continent. In New England some called for a rapprochement with the remilitarized Britain, while Quebec desperately tried to keep Louisiana and Mexico from escalating tensions, even though both families in those realms challenged Empress Wilhelmina's taking of the throne.

Scandinavia: Twilight of the Oldenburgs

Streets of Stockholm 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Catherine II (1876-1898)
Catherinian Reforms and Domestic Peace (1876-1888)
   Scandinavia emerged from the chaotic early 1870s as one of the preeminent European powers. Prussia at last had been subdued, the Baltic League secured mastery of that sea, and Ottoman weakness allowed for the establishment of protectorates in Egypt and Palestine. Yet, the cost had been heavy. The national mobilization against Prussia had been expensive, coupled as it was with continued disruption to trade through the closure of the Suez and Cape War. Hanover, one of the primary acquisitions from the Peace of Prague, stood in ruins and would require extensive reconstruction. On top of this, Stockholm’s numerous colonies remained a net expense and unemployment was high.
   Catherine II proved herself adept at navigating the situation, announcing the Catherinian Reforms in mid-1877. Inspired by Disraeli’s efforts in Britain, Scandinavia too embarked on extensive social reforms at home, aimed to weakening the potential of any domestic socialist movement. Unlike in Britain, where the Americans and the established conservatives gradually watered down these changes, the Catherinian Reforms proved to be a lasting shift in the domestic order. Passed by the liberal-conservative grand coalition, both established parties were made complicit in the policy. Unemployment insurance was rolled out alongside a basic social security system aimed at preventing poverty caused by economic disruptions. For more immediate relief, the government also established a sizable public works program for the reconstruction of Hanover, Scandinavian (but notably not Hanoverian) citizens being given jobs establishing new rail connections, expanding ports, and rebuilding the battered cities. Likewise, measures to expand the nascent electrical and hydroelectrical systems in major cities were pushed. Passed piece by piece in 1877, the numerous initiatives took effect in January 1878.
   These programs, though greeted with acclaim, were bound to be expensive, especially given Scandinavia’s already extensive debts accumulated over the prior decade. In order to ease the concerns of investors and bold-holders, the tax system was overhauled, especially for the wealthy, in order to bring in more revenue. Likewise, the military mobilization was wound down, even moreso than other powers, Stockholm secure in the assurances and nominal alliances it shared with Austria, Russia, and France. Further revenue was gained through the auctioning off of vast tracts of colonial lands in Africa to corporations involved in resource extraction, a move that would later have substantial implications.
   Initially the Catherinian Reforms seemed to bear little fruit, the effort to lower unemployment countered by the return of so many men from the frontlines. Inspired by the presence of the exiled Dutch royals, some radicals were particularly vocal in their calls to topple the monarchy, though widespread social disruption was avoided. The Scandinavian recession lasted through 1879, but from there the situation began to recover.
   Indeed, the recession lasted through 1879, but from that trough, the economy began to recover. The Catherinian Reforms, coupled with the reopening of the Suez on January 1st, 1880, did a great deal to improve the situation over the coming years. The Election of 1882, which was the first since the formation of the grand coalition, saw the Liberals ascendant. Norwegian Ole Anton Qvam took the office of Prime Minister, his tenure characterized by spending freezes to alleviate Scandinavia's debt burden, gradually paying down the outstanding war debt during the 1880s.

[Spamage]

Queen Catherine II of Scandinavia, 1875
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Empress of Africa (1876-1898)
   Nothing consumed Scandinavian attention during the latter half of the nineteenth century more than the development of its African colonies. The proclamation of Catherine II as the “Empress of Africa” in 1876 presaged a massive push by the crown to make good on its claims from the Stockholm Conference and Treaty of Limassol. Interest in Africa was twofold. It was believed by the government that continued investment could turn the broader empire from an expense to a valuable source of revenue, while the vast manpower base of the colonies was seen as a necessarily supplement of Scandinavia’s notoriously small population.
   Thus, the 1880s and 1890s were a boom time in terms of Scandinavian colonization. Thousands of adventurous entrepreneurs, explorers, and scientists converged on the region, seeking to capitalize on the situation. Lake Catherine, the source of the Nile, was claimed for the crown in 1882 by Otto Nordenskjöld. 1894 saw the opening of the Central African Railway, stretching from Buea to Mombasa, after 12 years of construction. Situated along the Congolian forest-savanna mosaic, it proved to be a substantial propaganda coup, regardless of its small grade and at times tenuous connectivity. Plans for a Cairo link connecting the Central African Railway up the Nile were widely discussed throughout the 1890s.
   Scandinavia portrayed itself as a benevolent colonizer, especially in comparison to the Brazilians, Portuguese, and New Brandenburgers. Yet, this was not wholly accurate. While certainly there were no labor duties or aggressive punishments on the scale of the mission-states, Scandinavian domination merely took a different form, most locals being paid scant wages and beholden to corporate estate-holders seeking to maximize profits. White immigrants were given preferential hiring on any truly lucrative jobs, such as railroad construction or management positions. Many anthropologists in the region framed the indigenous population as needing extensive guidance and direction, seeking to portray Stockholm as their benefactor.
   In the puppet states, such as Egypt, Palestine, and Luanda, the local elites found themselves handsomely rewarded for cooperation with the Scandinavians, tariff duties leading to widespread corruption and graft. Yet, the common people here too faced higher prices as a result of their economic ties to Stockholm. Furthermore, the presence of Scandinavian garrisons was a daily reminder of national humiliation. This growing resentment manifested itself in a variety of ways as the century wore on. While outright opposition was silenced, a wave of religious and cultural organizations began to proliferate these regions, particularly Egypt, Palestine, and Scandinavian Sudan.
   The implementation of the Imperial Tariff in 1888 only further increased the misery of many East Africans, who now had to spend more for Scandinavian-produced goods on their meager salaries. While there were extensive profits to be had, especially as companies established massive rubber plantations in Kenya and Tanzania (now free from Brazilian competition), the wealth went to the Scandinavian shareholders and executives, not the local population.

Central African Railway, 1895
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Panic of 1888 and Economic Impact (1888-1892)
   The Panic of 1888 had profound effects for Scandinavia, perhaps only second to those felt in Russia. Its advent and the economic disruption caused by it had the effect of forcing Scandinavia to look inward both economically and politically, a noted shift from its historic sentiment. Herself unnerved by the ease at which the boom had become a bust, Catherine II proved a largely willing partner to an increasingly economic nationalist government.
   Scandinavia, itself a debtor nation, had faced the risk of its own bankruptcy with the Russian vow to cease payment on foreign debt under Chicherin, a substantial portion of which had been held by Stockholm. The toppling of the whole system of foreign credit risked obliterating the domestic economy and shattered the sense of economic complacency that had prevailed in the 1880s. Even with Swiss intervention and the Convention of Bern, unemployment still rose precipitously. The Catherinian Reforms kept the social situation from spiraling out of hand, only nominal striking occurring in some cities (in contrast to what was observed in Britain), but that did not mean the realm would be free of political ramifications stemming from the crisis.
   In the eyes of many, the whole affair underscored the perils of international trade and reliance on foreign investment, a new generation of policymakers calling for a substantial pivot in economic philosophy. The Conservatives, led by Swede Erik Gustaf Boström, swept into office in the election of 1889 due to a dominant performance in rural areas, ending a decade of Liberal rule in the Riksdag. While their hands were initially tied as the largest party in a hung Riksdag, they found an unlikely ally in the Socialist Party to enact protectionist policies, aimed at shielding Stockholm from further international economic chaos.
   Inspired by Austrian protectionism in the form of trade barriers for external powers with the Habsburg Trade Bloc, Scandinavian policymakers sought to emulate the policy with their own European and African territories. The overwhelming passage of the “Imperial Tariff” in 1889 simultaneously eliminated any existing trade barriers between Scandinavia, its colonies, and satellite states, while tremendously increasing tariffs to most other major powers. Only a carveout was made for China, with the profitability of Hainan seen as paramount.
   The effect of this new policy was noticeable, from the start. While Liberal critics howled of slowed growth, there was no major economic disruption at home. Still, economic engagement with Russia plummeted as the two powers moved towards an uneasy relationship. Even trade with nominally friendly powers such as Austria and Britain declined, much to the chagrin of Catherine’s allies in those capitals. Domestically, the group most supportive of the Imperial Tariff was the agricultural industry. With cheap imports from Russia or British America now made far more expensive, agricultural profits throughout Denmark, Hanover, and Livonia soared, bringing local prosperity to these constituent realms. Many cynical observers noted that Prime Minister Boström, himself from an agricultural background, benefitted from the Imperial Tariff.
   The Imperial Tariff would cause chaos in the Socialist Party, that movement splintering over the debate. As in France, Scandinavian socialists divided between those who wanted to work with the government in the existing system to enact change (the Social Democrats) and those who wanted to operate outside of the order (socialist republicans, communist, syndicalists, and reactionary socialists). While the broad spectrum of socialists agreed with the sentiment of the Imperial Tariff, as it also protected domestic laborers from cheaper British and French competition, the very act of siding with the Crown to do so was controversial.

Prime Minister Erik Gustaf Boström, a Fixture of the Late Catherinian Era (1897)
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Late Catherinian Era (1892-1898)
   Boström proved to be one of the most formidable Scandinavian politicians in the century. When a follow-up election was held in 1892, the Conservatives achieved an outright majority thanks to socialist infighting and the continued unpopularity of the Liberals. Queen Catherine herself, once on the forefront of social policy with the Catherinian Reforms, demonstrated a tendency to lean towards the right in the later part of her reign, working in concert with her prime minister. She felt that many socialists were ungrateful for the generosity of the Scandinavian system at a time when social reforms in Russia and Britain were being undercut, while the liberals were blamed for the Scandinavian involvement in the Panic of 1888.
   Now with a secure majority, Boström and Catherine II were able to fully cooperate on a wide range of issues. Concerned by the Russian naval buildup under Suvorin, specifically the reestablishment of the Russian Baltic Fleet in 1882, the Queen had long sought to prod the government into action. Throughout the 1880s the Liberals had proved obstinate, dovish towards Russia and not wanting to provoke future conflict. The Conservatives had no such compunctions.
   In a direct counter to Suvorin’s naval reforms, Scandinavia responded with an aggressive naval expansion in the 1890s, which culminated in 1899 with the launch of the HMS Viborg, a state-of-the-line type of battleship armed with massive artillery and steam propulsion. Though just one ship, as with the launch of the first Zeppelin in Vienna, some noted that the HMS Viborg presaged a new naval era, France, Russia, and Britain all hurrying the production of their own similar vessels.
   Boström also introduced a system of national military training for all men aged 18-25, seeking to augment the smaller number of would-be Scandinavian soldiers. Young men were required to spend a year away from home training as a reservist, with follow-up review sessions for two weeks out of each subsequent year. While the number and quality of potential soldiers did greatly increase, many resented the undue burden of spending a year away from home, especially as the lodging and food provided were often noted to be subpar. Still, the mixing of all the different Scandinavian nationalities did go some way to blending the varied national identities and regionalist sentiment to some extent.
   The remainder of the 1890s would see Boström legislate on a wide variety of issues. The Scandinavian patent system was revamped, hoping to draw in new inventors. Emigration to the Americas or New Holland was discouraged, the government enacting a tax on the assets of those seeking to move away. The education system was reorganized, national languages being moved to secondary status in favor of standard Swedish in Livonia and Finland. Denmark and Norway were exempted due to their language’s similarities with Swedish. Schooling was made compulsory and child labor prohibited.
   Yet, further social reform was halted. Despite apparently having some personal sympathy for the cause, Queen Catherine II did little to aid the growing female suffrage movement. Boström also ensured that no further accommodations were made towards trade unions and other reforms championed by the Social Democrats. While the Conservatives were rewarded in the Election of 1897, Boström once again serving as Prime Minister, their majority in the Riksdag had dwindled significantly, both the Liberals and the Social Democrats enjoying a resurgence in strength.

HMS Viborg, the Ship that Launched a New Naval Era, 1899
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Perfidious Stockholm (1876-1898)
   The late reign of Catherine II could best be described as the gradual alienation of Scandinavia from many of its nominal allies. In 1876, frustrated by the alliance between Paris and Stockholm, Habsburg diplomats had cynically remarked that, “by being an ally to all, Scandinavia is a friend to none.” Time and unintentional actions would change the situation markedly. By the turn of the century, aside from its dynastic ties with Britain and legacy of cooperation with Austria, the Scandinavians had few close friends around the world.
   Qajar Iran was alienated by the establishment of Hashemite Palestine and felt that Scandinavia had unjustly encroached on its backyard. Whispers of Scandinavian intrigues on behalf of the Saudis did little to help matters, the defensive alliance between the two lapsing with Scandinavian inaction in the Qajar-Ottoman War. The Ottomans themselves could not forgive the Swedes for their duplicitousness during the Second Great Eastern War. Russia was insulted by the marriage and happy union of Prince Charles to Grand Duchess Charlotte, daughter of the deposed Czar. Likewise, Moscow was frustrated by Scandinavian meddling in its economic affairs in the aftermath of the Panic of 1888. Versailles, meanwhile, was perturbed by Stockholm’s status as a haven for political refugees and the screeds against Louis XX and Charlotte that were published by Scandinavian booksellers.
   Even the “unshakable” bonds between Vienna and Stockholm were strained by Catherine’s neutrality in the July Crisis in 1897 and her ambivalence about the Third Imperial Reform. While Vienna saw her as an obstinate, noncommittal ally, the Scandinavians began to wonder if they were truly benefitting from continued ties with Austria now that Prussia was clearly no longer a threat. Was not a Habsburg-led centralized Holy Roman Empire what the great Gustav Adolf fought so hard to prevent in the 1600s? With Charles XIV taking the throne in 1898 (a brother to the regent of Austria and uncle to the Queen of Britain) this matter gained a new sense of urgency, some wondering why the Scandinavian people need be beholden to foreign dynasties and if the realm had lost its historic diplomatic flexibility.

Charles XIV (1898-)
A New Reign (1898-1900)
   Queen-Empress Catherine II of Scandinavia died suddenly in Stockholm on September 28th, 1898 at the age of 56. With her passed the House of Oldenburg, a family that had ruled Denmark proper for 450 years and 27 days. She was succeeded by her second-cousin Prince Charles of Britain, who was named King Charles XIV just hours after the death of the beloved queen. Himself a great-grandson of the revered Frederick VI and Catherine I, it was hoped the transfer of power would pass without incident. Many understood the succession to be a watershed moment in Scandinavian history, the durability of the established order being put to the test under a new dynasty.
   Charles had been groomed to rule for more than twenty years. When it had become clear that Catherine II was unable to bear children in the 1870s, she had chosen her heir from among her closest living relatives. As a younger son of Henry X, and merely 17 at the time, the Queen had hoped to mold Charles into an heir fitting of Scandinavia. She had done well, Charles learning Swedish, Danish, and Finnish in addition to his preferred English. As Crown Prince he had dutifully aided his cousin, marrying Charlotte Romanov in line with her wishes in 1874. He was reasonably popular, though had never been actively put to the test. Notably, Charles held a more liberal sentiment relative to his conservative predecessor.
   Yet, the succession was bound to be controversial. By naming Charles as heir, Catherine II had overlooked the claims of her three first cousins, the Hesse-Darmstadts, children of her late aunt Alexandra’s illicit marriage with Prince Alexander of Hesse-Darmstadt. As her first cousins, there was little doubt they had a claim on the Scandinavian throne, only barred by King Gustav IV’s decision to forbid them from inheriting in 1845. Even after snubbing them, Catherine had sought to keep the family close, marrying Josepha (the sole daughter) to her client, King Constantine I of Greece.
   Yet, as a junior member of the Hessian line, and with little prospect of inheriting anything of note, the two sons proved to be more obstinate. William of Hesse-Darmstadt had fled to Quebec, well out of Catherine’s reach, where he had married Ernestine of Quebec, a lesser member of the Quebecois royal family. Alexander, the youngest of the three, had himself fled first to London, then Paris, where he was a noted guest at Versailles. To the critics of the new sovereign, the Hesse-Darmstadts became something of a panacea, any misstep or unpopular move by the sovereign contrasted with the idealized image of Hesse-Darmstadt action.
   Charles XIV’s early reign was not helped by the death of his brother and the continued uncertainty surrounding the British succession as well. Despite acting as sovereign of Scandinavia, the new king maintained a vested, perhaps overly so, interest in his homeland, frequently telegraphing the young Queen Mary III with advice. As second in line for the British throne after Mary’s half-sister Princess Helen, more than one Scandinavian publication has questioned if Charles XIV would force the realm into union with Britain or abandon the Scandinavians to one of his children, neither prospect popular among the general public.
   The assassination of Prime Minister Boström on January 17th, 1899 by Hans Jæger, a Norwegian anarchist, further undermined the stability of the new reign. Jæger, who had been caught up in the enforced morality of the Conservative government, killed himself before he could be apprehended. A nationalist element emerged, some Norwegian nationalists claiming that he had been unjustly accused and was innocent. Indeed, many claimed that France or Russia was truly responsible for the killing.
   Prime Minister Boström, an institution in Scandinavian politics for a decade, had been removed from the political scene at a time his steady hand was most necessary. With his death, the Riksdag named Dane Tage Reedtz-Thott as the new Prime Minister, though he would demonstrate himself less active than his predecessor, content to follow rather than lead. Given the growing infighting among the narrow Conservative majority, many expected Charles XIV would have to call an election relatively soon. The king's coronation in early 1899, under the shadow of Boström's death, proved to be an uneasy occasion.

Coronation of King Charles XIV of Scandinavia and Queen Charlotte of Russia, 1899
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Senussi Rebellion (1896-1900)
   There was little time for Charles to bask in his new role, inheriting as he did an ongoing conflict in the Sahara. In 1896, unrest on the frontier of Egypt had at long last erupted into outright revolt. With the fall of Algeria, subjugation of Morocco, and continued Scandinavian dominance over Egypt and Palestine, many Arabs resented the continued encroachment on their region throughout the late 19th century. It was one thing to be beholden to a Turk or an Iranian, even a Shi’ite Iranian, but the influx of colonial powers was a whole different matter.
   Into this vacuum the Senussi had emerged. During the Turkish Civil War, they had nearly toppled Ottoman control over Tripolitania completely, only being brought back into line after a truce was signed with the victorious Royalists under Abdülkerim Nadir Pasha in 1882. For the remainder of the 1880s and 1890s they had existed on the periphery, taking advantage of lax Ottoman border policies to thrive on the margins of both Egypt and Tripolitania. King Ahmed of Egypt, though loyal to Stockholm, thought dealing with the group as not worth his time.
   With the death of Ahmed in 1892, his son Saleh I proved more energetic. Feeling the need to demonstrate his authority, especially given the constant presence of the Scandinavians, he had instigated a fight with the Senussi in 1896 when he had called for the group to turn over their leader Muhammad al-Mahdi as-Senussi to his custody. The result had been an eruption of low-level guerilla warfare at once. Stockholm professed itself frustrated with Saleh’s actions, but did little to involve itself initially, believing the situation would work itself out.
   Yet, in the initial fighting the Egyptian military proved incapable, many soldiers either unwilling to fight or outright sympathetic with the Senussi calls for an expulsion of the Europeans from North Africa. Indeed, many Scandinavian merchants, officers, and officials in Egypt reported a feeling of wariness in Egypt, questions over the loyalty of the populace now coming to the forefront as the Senussi continued to successfully evade defeat. One of Catherine II’s final orders had been the sending of Scandinavian divisions to Egypt to aid their cause against the rebels.

King Charles XIV, A Sovereign Beset by Controversy, 1899
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

[Spamage]

Poland: The Cautious Survivor

Warsaw, Around the Turn of the Century
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Regency (1876-1883)
   At the end of the 1870s Warsaw felt vulnerable. Certainly, Poland had faced the Russian Republic and survived, but that had only been possible thanks to Austrian mediation. Even with Archduke Louis-Henry of Austria serving as regent, the kingdom retained a strong sense of self-preservation throughout the remainder of the century.
   The regency was a rare period of calm for the kingdom, a time of gradual reform and modernization. Poland’s borders had been nebulous over the past several decades and the result had been economic disorder. During the Time of Sorrows, when the realm was divided between Prussia, Austria, and Russia, three different standards of measurement, transportation, and administration had been established. Only in the 1870s, the first extended period of domestic peace with stable borders, was a uniform system formally implemented in the realm.
   Louis-Henry was a champion of modernization. Railroad networks were restructured to center on Warsaw, a national standard of measurement was rolled out, and administrative divisions replaced old feudal borders with more rational ones. Jewish emancipation was confirmed, the government formally declaring their right to worship. Himself a Habsburg, Louis-Henry often modeled the new Polish reforms after his native Austria.
   Politically, Louis-Henry increasingly found himself opposed by some factions as a foreign interloper. The death of Aleksander Wielopolski, his closest Polish ally, in 1880 helped to weaken his position. Many on the left called for the restoration of the 1855 Declaration of Krakow and a return to proper governance in line with the constitution. With Habsburg Austria itself adopting the Agram Decrees, the Polish liberals hoped to see a return of legitimate democratic governance for the first time since it had been toppled in the Coup of 1864.
   What emerged was a compromise. After liberal-held municipalities declared their intention to withhold tax revenue barring a return of the constitution in 1881, the regent felt forced to act. Louis-Henry desperately wanted to avoid the Hungarian unrest to the south from spilling across the border into Poland. Convening a broad swathe of Polish intellectuals in Warsaw, a new constitution was drafted in the name of young Sigismund IV. Highly conservative, it limited suffrage to the wealthy landholders. Likewise, elections were quite unimportant, the Crown retaining a broad prerogative in both domestic and foreign affairs.
   Still, the Constitution of 1881 demonstrated a genuine effort by the regime to compromise. Most liberal elites, themselves often noble landholders, were content with the document. The common classes, well-aware of their historic rights compared to those in the new constitution, proved largely apathetic, mollified only by an extensive broad listing of personal liberties at the end of the document, including freedom or worship and equality before the law. Likewise, as time passed and the Hungarian uprising was crushed, the mood in the nation shifted in a conservative direction. Thus, when young Sigismund IV appeared in public to ratify the document on October 10th, 1881, it was a largely uneventful occasion.

Archduke Louis-Henry of Austria, Duke of Sieradz, 1885
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Sigismund IV (1883-)
Personal Rule (1883-1900)
   The regency was formally dissolved on January 19th, 1883, King Sigismund IV reaching the age of majority. Archduke Louis-Henry, the uncle of the King, was awarded handsomely by his nephew, named the Duke of Sieradz and granted a wide range of property from the royal estate. Though Louis-Henry would alternate his time between Vienna and Warsaw for the coming decades, he would always be revered by his nephew who saw him as a surrogate father.
   Sigismund IV was a creature of conservatism. He utterly deplored revolutionary ideologies such as Catholic Republicanism or reactionary socialism, which he associated with the assassination of his father in 1871. Likewise, given Poland’s turbulent history of alternating between republics and monarchies, he sought to eradicate any traces of republicanism within his own borders. Poland remained a conservative state, moreso than its Austrian ally. While he permitted follow-up elections in line with the Constitution of 1881, he often ignored the Sejm, which was itself content to be a rubber-stamp for royal wishes. Unlike Austria, or especially neighboring Russia, Poland would be a stifled realm, popular sentiment largely sidelined by the wishes of the king.
   Sigismund, and Poland as a whole, would focus his primary efforts on defense and military reform. The performance of the Polish Army in the brief Second Great Eastern War, where it had paled compared to its Ottoman and Scandinavian allies, was seen as a national source of shame that could not be repeated. If the kingdom was to survive, it had to be able to adequately defend itself. Firmly tied to Austria, ofttimes Viennese advisors were present at military exercises. A system of national registration was rolled out, young men of an appropriate age having to register with the government. Though no conflict emerged to test the mettle of the newly-reformed Army, it was hoped that the new generation of Poles would be able to defend themselves better than their forebears.

Sigismund IV, King of Poland, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

A New Poland (1883-1900)
   A new, unrecognizable Poland blossomed in the last years of the Nineteenth Century. With two decades of peace, the most stable period of self-rule the Poles had enjoyed since the 1770s, tremendous economic progress was made possible. A growing base of industrial manufacturing saw thousands of new jobs emerge in the cities, especially after Poland joined the Central European Common Market in 1884. Warsaw grew from a population of 180,000 in 1875 to more than 800,000 by the turn of the century, quadrupling in size. With Danzig held by the Scandinavians, and wanting a port city of their own, the government embarked on a massive expansion of the village of Mikoszewo in the 1880s, establishing a moderately-sized port that gave the realm its own window to the Baltic. On top of all of this, Louis-Henry’s reforms helped increase internal cohesion and trade, bringing together the separate parts of the kingdom economically, as well as politically.
   Sigismund IV, a young sovereign, was seen as embodying the new Poland, one where the humiliation and subjugation of the past were but distant memories. He oversaw a period of cultural explosion, new museums, concert halls, scientific expositions blossoming in the realm. A national conservatory was established for the preservation and betterment of Polish music in 1885, the King himself enjoying the opera. The 1891 marriage of the king to his first-cousin-once-removed Princess Maria Eugenia of Serbia was treated as a massive public celebration. Likewise, the birth of the heir to the throne, Prince Ladislas, the Duke of Warsaw, was greeted with similar pomp in 1897.
   Whatever the objections to the conservative character of the regime, it could not be denied that Wettin Poland was the most politically stable period of Polish history dating all the way back to the execution of Augustus III in 1757. After a century of chaos, it was hoped the tide had finally turned for the nation.

Japan: Birth of a Republic

Edo, the Republican Capital, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Tokugawa Yoshiyori (1876-1880)
National Humiliation (1876-1880)
   The Tokugawa Shogunate emerged from the Pacific War greatly wounded. Japan’s overseas empire had evaporated with the loss of the Philippines, Papua New Guinea, and the Chinese concessions; a sense of domestic stability was shattered with the foreign landings at Nagasaki in 1876; and foreign powers now lurked on the Shogunate’s periphery. As the military demobilized, widespread dissatisfaction was clear. Riots erupted in several port cities, mobs calling for the restoration of the emperor to the government or the abolition of the shogunate. While these were soon crushed, publicly dismissed as irrelevant, there were many, more organized factions in Japan who sought to take advantage of the situation.
   Japan was a tinderbox of overlapping military and political systems, never having truly reconciled the growing push to modernize and expand with its feudal past. Though the Shogunate retained a preponderance of military force and operated the national army, the daimyo nobles still retained their own private armies and exercised local political control. With defeat in the Pacific War, many expected the nobility to be the focal point of any opposition to Tokugawa Yoshiyori’s regime, but this would not prove to be the case.
   It had been decades since Japan had opened itself to the world, allowing western thought and ideology to gradually seep into its borders. While the result had undoubtedly been a net benefit, a massive wave of economic and military growth resulting in an explosion of Japanese power, it had also increased the level of domestic opposition to the shogunate. Reformists saw the Shogunate as an antiquated, feudal remnant that needed to be abolished. Japanese liberals looked to the constitutional monarchies that had prevailed in Europe for inspiration, in particular those of Scandinavia, the Habsburg Monarchy, and Britain. The moribund imperial cause, thought defeated following the arrest of the Emperor Ninkō in the 1840s, thus experienced a revival in the aftermath of the Pacific War. The reformists consisted of a broad coalition of university students, wealthy chōnin frustrated by the feudal system, ideological nationalists, remnants of earlier royalist movements, and rival daimyo clans eager to topple the Tokugawa after centuries of rule.
   Yet, though unpopular in some quarters, this did not mean the shogunate was without its backers. To a man, the massive Tokugawa clan remained staunchly loyal to the regime. In the other major families, though there may have been some grumbling by discontented daimyo, the sankin-kōtai kept them in check. Forced to leave their family in Edo when they personally were not in attendance, the hostage system coerced most into deferring to Tokugawa Yoshiyori. The samurai remained ardent defenders of the existing order, as did most of the nōmin (farmers). Geographically, the Tokugawa were supported in both the north of the country and the immediate region around Edo, while the Imperialists predominated the south.
   Tokugawa Yoshiyori’s coup against his cousin in the early 1870s came under question after the Treaty of Taipei. Now that he seemed weak, many questioned why he had been allowed to get away with the slaughter of Tokugawa Yoshinobu. Liberals in particular mourned the late shogun and his call for a council of daimyo. Yet, the incumbent government was brutal in his suppression of dissent. Heavy censorship gradually took hold where free discourse had largely once held sway, the government at long last understanding the perils of public criticism.
   Yoshiyori himself understood that the realm was on a precipice, but did all he could to delay any sort of conflict. The guard around the emperor was doubled and an extensive network of spies was established. The shogun sought private pledges of loyalty from allies in the national military and from major magnates. Ailing, he struggled to survive until his son, Tokugawa Iesato was of sufficient age to take up leadership of the family. Even then, the government’s cause was hampered by outstanding foreign debts, a lack of clear direction, and the innate support for the emperor.
   The world was not blind to what was happening in Japan. Though the Congress of Copenhagen in 1880 did not address the looming instability in Japan outright, it was clear to most participants that such a divided state could not endure. From the start, despite their own toppling of their emperor, it was clear that the Chinese backed the Imperialists, seeing the prospect of a friendly Japan in their victory. This put Nanjing at odds with the Russians, who tended to support the Shogunate due to the historic cooperation between their two governments. Scandinavia and the Habsburgs also nominally supported the restoration of imperial power in the realm, though they proved to be far less involved in the brewing maelstrom.

Storming of the Kyoto Imperial Palace, 1881
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Tokugawa Iesato (1880-)
Eruption of the Civil War (1880-1881)
   The death of Tokugawa Yoshiyori at the end of 1880 was the immediate cause for the Civil War. Tokugawa Iesato was not the youngest shogun in his family’s history, but he was still only 17 in early 1881. The situation he inherited was bleak. His father’s tenure had seen economic stagnation due to the loss of the colonies, while enemies waited in the wings. The covert reformist movement now had the excuse it had been waiting for to launch a strike at the shogunate.
   It was scuffle at the gates of the palace that sparked the first shots of the Japanese Civil War. A group of well-armed reformists, primarily student activists and ideologues, attempted to breach the shogunate’s guard around the palace and free the sovereign on January 21st, 1881. Mutsuhito, the current emperor, was ambitious, despite his reduced role in society. He had covertly given his tacit approval to the operation. While the initial attempt failed, much to the relief of Edo, rumors in the city that the emperor would be relocated as punishment brought out a mob just days later. The Storming of the Kyoto Imperial Palace on January 25th saw the emperor fully liberated from captivity, the shogunate’s men being killed in the process.
   Mutsuhito decreed an abolition of the shogunate, called on the people to rise against the corrupt regime and foreign influence, and pledged to restore Japan’s greatness. Recognizing his support came from the liberals, he tacitly approved many kugyō (court nobles) openly pledging a future constitution. Telegraphs brought the emperor’s message to all corners of the country, spreading the call to arms. The shogun, not to be outmaneuvered, denounced the base message of the emperor and called on his men to restore order in line with traditional principles of governance.
   The nation was rocked by unrest. Student groups took hold of many major port cities such as Fukuoka, Osaka, and Hiroshima, declaring an end to the feudal system and electing a municipal government among themselves. Edo itself, the heart of the shogunate, faced intense street fighting before the samurai and local police forces restored order. The National Army splintered, a significant portion of officers and battalions switching to the Imperial cause, abandoning their posts to head to Kyoto. Across the countryside villages erupted into conflict, local and family feuds merging with the larger conflict. Radicals in some regions went so far as to dispossess their opponents of property and redistribute lands. Thousands died in the initial chaos, neither faction able to secure firm control over any given region for several weeks.
   Meanwhile, throughout the first months of 1881 the various daimyo battled unrest in their home provinces. Most vocally supported Tokugawa Iesato and downplayed the emperor’s actions. Yet, neither did the opponents of the Tokugawa among the nobility did not rush to the Imperial banner. Conscious of their families’ roles as captives, they tended to solely pledge neutrality in the brewing conflict. Though the private armies of some daimyo did mutiny, generally the samurai would prove to be the backbone of the shogunate’s cause. The Imperial forces would primarily consist of mutineers from the national army, the rōnin, enlistees from the common classes, and ideologues.
   While most foreign observers expected the emperor’s liberation and call to arms to be the death-knell to the regime, several factors made this not the case. Ever since the aborted imperial coup in the 1840s, the Shogunate government had consistently downplayed imperial authority and the unquestioned status of the emperor. The royal family was primarily framed as occupying a ceremonial rather than political role, children in some regions even being instructed that it was improper and beneath the emperor to involve himself in the day-to-day affairs of governance. Likewise, many Japanese were well aware of the fate that had befallen both the Joseon and Xing Dynasties and their replacement by republics. In such a regional environment, the monarchy did not seem so inviolate. Given there were many who bought in to the established regime, and had a real stake in its success, this meant the shogunate too would have its defenders.
   As the conflict exploded, there was no paucity of military experience. Japan was a highly militarized society. While the Shogun controlled the national army, by far the largest and most well-organized force on the island, the remnants of the old order meant that many of the daimyo still retained private forces of their own. On top of this many commoners had recently served in the Pacific War. This meant both the Imperialists and the Shogunate drew upon men well-versed in the latest military strategies and with combat experience.
   Initial scuffles were chaotic and confused. Across the country, the forces of the two factions sought to secure rail lines and key infrastructure. Yet, the initially nebulous nature of the conflict meant that most transportation networks were damaged by guerilla and dissident resistance. Likewise, telegraph lines were cut and Japan’s nascent electrical industry shuttered. For all the push to modernize the Shogunate, it was clear the only modern equipment relevant to the brewing struggle would be the weaponry.
   The first major clash was the Battle of Nagoya in March 1881, which saw a hasty Imperial push towards Edo held off by the Shogunate men. The city proper was gutted by the fighting, which evolved from a basic firefight into a massive frontline. Prior to the attack, forces loyal to the emperor commenced with a shelling of the city, causing tremendous damage and massive fires. Three Imperial assaults across the Kiso River were repelled, the Shogunate men going as far as deploying chemical weapons to beat back the attack. Both factions displayed tremendous bravery in the midst of the carnage, but ultimately after weeks of inconclusive fighting, Imperial commanders were forced to accept there would be no easy march on Edo and rapid victory. Follow-up clashes, including a Shogunate push south towards Kyoto likewise proved inconclusive throughout the summer of 1881. Both sides were forced to gradually accept that the conflict would be far longer than anticipated, digging in and seeking to out-strategize their opponent.
   Japan divided, the Imperial capital of Kyoto serving as the home base for the Imperialists, who held much of southern Honshu and the totality of Shikoku and Kyushu. Meanwhile, from Edo the Shogunate governed, keeping its grip over northern Honshu, Hokkaido, and Japan’s overseas possessions. An entrenched frontline stretching the width of the island traded hands between the two factions in the early stages of the fighting, both sides unable to break the stalemate. On the seas, though the Shogunate retained the national navy, and thus a predominance of naval strength, many of the southern daimyo fleets had themselves mutinied and joined the cause of the emperor. Attempts at a Shogunate blockade in the south were thus doomed to fail, the Imperial cause able to punch holes through attempts to cut them off from the rest of the world.

Scenes from the Front Lines of the Japanese Civil War, 1883
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

[Spamage]

The War (1882-1885)
   Japan collapsing in on itself, other powers did not wait to take advantage of the situation. The Chinese and Russians were the first to intervene, the Chinese in favor of the Imperials while the Russians backed the Shogunate, with whom Suvorin had a personal affinity. Foreign weapons and advisors flooded into the country. Further afield, Colombia hinted at an effort to ‘protect’ Japanese colonial outposts, only being dissuaded when Quebec made it clear that it would not tolerate a further expansion of Colombian influence in the Pacific. Attempts between the two governments to broker a joint occupation of Japanese territories failed and thus, barely, the Pacific territories survived unscathed. China likewise hinted at an invasion and occupation of the Republic of Formosa, but ultimately little came of this due to the continued skeletal state of the Chinese Navy and the resilience of the occupying Japanese forces.
   Fighting in the Civil War remained brutal throughout the duration. Any sense of shared identity was surely gravely wounded by the ferocity. Aside from the initial enlistees, both factions drafted the youth in their respective territories, a whole generation taken from the farms to decide the struggle. Central Japan was a battleground between the two factions, thousands of young men perishing in unforgiving conditions. The frontlines featured shelling, poison gas, and poor supply. Beyond that, the dislocation of so many people brought about epidemics of typhus and cholera.
   In the fires of war, a new Japan was forged. While neither side had envisioned too drastic of reforms during the early months of the civil war, as the conflict drug on, they increasingly became entrenched in their views. Later observers would note the ‘Two Revolutions’ that were sweeping the country at the time. The Imperialists denounced the entire daimyo nobility and Han system, pledging to reform society along more equitable and rational lines. Throughout the south, absentee daimyo estates were broken up and redistributed, the administration reorganized into a provincial system, and Shintoism emphasized as the predominant mode of worship. In the north, the Shogunate began to clamp down yet further on internal dissent, becoming far more repressive. Summary execution was not uncommon. The Shogunate framed the Imperial faction as polluted with western political thought, emphasizing a Japan free of foreign domination. Gradually, the strength of loyalty to the emperor withered throughout the north, Tokugawa Iesato himself leading a push to elevate Buddhism syncretism over pro-Imperial aspects of the Shinto faith.  
   The stalemate began to break in 1884, after four long years of fighting. A Shogunate breakthrough at the Battle of Tsuruga in June 1884 saw them advance kilometers towards Kyoto, even reaching the shores of Lake Biwa. This was followed weeks later by the Shogunate’s successful shelling of Fukuoka, which severely damaged the primary Imperial port city. In light of these victories, and after intense private negotiations, Louis XX of Frane was persuaded to aid the Shogunate, which warned the king that a democratic Imperial Japan could pose a threat to his colonial territories in India and the East Indies. Indeed, Chinese aid to the Imperial faction was viewed by the King as a direct threat to his interests in East Asia, given their meddling in Burma during the prior decade. French supplies gradually began to pour into Edo.
   While to many, these developments signaled that the Shogunate would likely triumph, the Imperial forces continued to staunchly resist. Growing desperate, and hoping to court support from the more constitutional regimes, the Emperor issued the Constitution of 1884 on August 5th, promising the establishment of democratic, parliamentary government should his forces triumph. Yet, the hour was late. The Shogunate followed up on the shelling of Fukuoka with landings on Kyushu in late August, hoping to rob the Imperials of another outpost. Though some local resistance continued, the exhausted locals largely fell in line, resigned to the fate of their cause. The fall of Nagasaki in early October demonstrated the shattering of Imperial power on that island. With Kyushu secured, at long last the Shogunate could blockade the Imperial cause.
   The final push erupted in early 1885, Shogun Tokugawa Iesato himself personally overseeing General Takeaki’s operations in a massive shelling and assault of the Imperial frontline. The emperor’s men were thrown into disarray, the front lines advancing kilometers where previously gains had been measured in meters. While the emperor remained in Kyoto, the rest of the Imperial family was quietly smuggled to Osaka for their protection.
   The Battle of Kyoto lasted several days, the city holding out against repeated assaults. Yet, the outcome was becoming inevitable. After heavy fighting, during which the emperor himself went missing (presumably being killed, the body never recovered) the old capital of Japan fell to the Shogunate. Like other cities, the fighting saw the historic city gutted by the carnage, an inferno following the struggle taking days to get under control.
   With the fall of Kyoto, it was clear the war was ending. The new emperor was a child of 5, his Chinese military advisors urging him, his adoptive mother, and the remainder of the Imperial Court to retreat with them to Shanghai. Seeing no other options, the young Emperor Yoshihito’s regents accepted. Under the cover of darkness, so not as to alert their troops they were abandoning them, they fled the interim Imperial capital of Osaka on board a Chinese steamer.
   As it became clear the emperor was no longer present, resistance in his name crumpled. Osaka fell on April 5th, Okayama just days later. While there was a brief attempt to carry on the fighting in Shikoku, desertion and falling morale meant the Shogunate’s men were able to put a stop to it. Thus, rather suddenly, the five-year long conflict that had done so much to damage Japan came to a close. The nation would never be the same.

Naval Skirmish, Prior to the Shelling of Fukouka, 1884
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The New Order (1885-1895)
   The decade following the Civil War would become known in Japanese as ‘Rinyūaru no jidai’ (Age of Renewal). The nation had to be both physically and socially reconstructed from the trauma of five years of bloodletting. The Japan that emerged would be a mix of the old and the new. There would be no turning back the clock, the Civil War had changed too much. Yet, though the government would be reformed, it retained its memory. The former Shogunate could not forget the wrongs that had been done to it and maintained an interest in restoring the former Japanese colonial empire.
   From the ashes of war, a new government emerged. On May 10th, 1885, just weeks after the surrender of the last Imperial general, the Republic of Japan was declared, the monarchy being formally abolished. For the first time, the Shogun issued orders not on behalf of the emperor, but in the name of the Japanese nation. The statement was a mere acknowledgement of the reality on the ground. With the flight of the Imperial Family after the Fall of Kyoto, the seemingly unthinkable had come to pass, Japan joining Korea and China as a third East Asian republic. Public reaction was muted, the people of the country coming to learn the brutality of Tokugawa censors. As had been the case with both of those powers, the Japanese republican system would take on its own unique form.  
   The political structure of the new government was promulgated in the Constitution of 1885, a direct retort to the Imperial Constitution of 1884 and an effort to give the Shogunate’s rule a clear demonstration of legitimacy. In effect, this marked the birth of a noble republic. The title of Shogun was made obsolete, replaced by the position of Sōsai (President), a lifelong title that Tokugawa Iesato claimed for himself. Loosely inspired by the Habsburg Geheimrat, the daimyo would serve as members of an advisory council. Their positions would be hereditary, entrenching the existing elite into the government, though they could be joined by more men of the president’s choosing. They could vote among themselves, and suggest appointees to the President, but lacked more teeth than that.
   Though the traditionalist-minded faction had triumphed, Japan had been irrevocably changed. Indeed, the feudal order, the whole cause the Shogunate had defended during the Civil War, was utterly destroyed by the conflict and would not be restored as it had been. As an expedient during conflict, many traditional power structures in the daimyo military system had been overlooked in the centralization of command under the Japanese Army. This would continued, the government assuming primary control of armed forces. The samurai class was easily subsumed into the national military, gaining hereditary right to most positions.
   In many provinces, the dislocations caused by the internal chaos also meant that reconstructing the former order was impossible. Shōen (manors, fields) had changed hands or were too damaged to be valuable. Thus, though the daimyo would retain their privileged position, they would no longer operate personal armies or control vast domestic territories outright. Instead, they would be the oligarchs of the noble republic, having to content themselves with state salaries and extensive personal benefices. While many became the governors of their former fiefs, their power was far more limited compared to the past and the central government retained a monopoly on force. Distinctions among the lower classes were loosened, aiming to reward those who had fought on behalf of the Tokugawa family.
   Economically, the era was one of tremendous growth. There was profit to be had reindustrializing the nation. Though the republicans were highly restrictive on social matters, they showed little inhibitions in supporting the economic boom following their victory. The Tokugawa’s allies and members of the daimyo enriched themselves with the establishment of rail companies, import-export businesses, and new industrial enterprises. France, Quebec, and the ever-unscrupulous New Hollanders served as the Republic of Japan’s primary trade partners. Cities throughout the nation were reconstructed and improved with the conclusion of fighting, a sign of the regime’s vitality. The rapid boom was celebrated in government propaganda, especially when it was contrasted to the troubles in Europe during the Panic of 1888.
   Though the Tokugawa had framed themselves as the defenders of traditional Japanese ways of life, that did not prevent the continued seeping in of foreign influence. Western goods, clothing, and art continued to expand their foothold in the cultural zeitgeist. Indeed, President Tokugawa Iesato himself began to adopt western dress in his role as leader, a notable shift from the state of affairs in his father's tenure.

President Tokugawa Iesato, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Thirst for Revenge (1895-1900)
   With peace and growth achieved, it was not long before the new Republic of Japan began to look outwards once more. It did not like what it saw. The reduced outposts in the Pacific remained an unpopular development and many privately called for the government to reestablish Japanese hegemony in the region, whatever form that took. Ambitious officers in the military, especially among the samurai, itched for a chance to prove their mettle against foreign opponents. Yet, Tokugawa Iesato kept the nation at peace, not seeing a rational opening. Many regional analysts wonder what the future holds for the young republic. Will the nobility keep the domestic situation in check? What actions will the regime take to satisfy revanchist sentiments? How will the government respond to challenges it has never faced before?
   Diplomatically, the Republic of Japan remained hostile towards China, which had replaced Korea as its primary Asian rival. Tokugawa Iesato viewed Scandinavia and Austria as foes, but not particularly threatening. The close ties with Russia, and Suvorin in particular, evolved to a more neutral stance due to the regime's disagreement with Mikhaylovsky's socialist leanings, though many expect this could change with the coming election of 1900. France remained the closest thing that Japan had to a friend, conveniently distant enough to not be a threat and yet still allow for cooperation. Quebec, Louisiana, and New Holland became economic partners, though no formal diplomatic agreements being reached between them and the Republic.

French Commerce with Japan in the 1890s
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Qajar Iran: Weathering the Storm

Busy Urban Scene in Tehran, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Naser al-Din Shah Qajar (1876-)
The Happy Years (1876-1887)
   In 1876 the Qajars stood as the dominant power in the Near East, their rule only challenged by the obstinate Hashemite regime in Jerusalem and the Saudis in Arabia. The Scandinavian establishment of the Kingdom of Palestine later that year and the total conquest of Arabia on the part of the Iranians brought fighting in the region to an end at long last, the first period of extended peace since 1871. The Peacock Throne stood triumphant, Qajar banners flying over the Islamic holy cities with Persian dominance at a level unseen in centuries. Yet, the empire needed time to absorb its tremendous gains.
   The next decade would be a time of peace and prosperity in the empire, the shah’s iron rule largely unquestioned thanks to the tremendous results he had delivered. Commerce was the order of the day, Iran taking full advantage of its extensive list of trade partners to reap economic rewards. Naser al-Din put the numerous loans he had taken from governments as far afield as Louisiana and Colombia to work, spending the funds in a massive program of modernization and industrialization. The government profited handsomely from involvement in rail-construction, a series of lines connecting Damascus, Baghdad, Tehran, Isfahan, and Bandar Abbas completed throughout the decade. Basic electrification was achieved in larger cities, while other investments went towards expanding agricultural output and domestic manufacturing. Labor projects aimed at improving irrigation, while cotton and tobacco output were greatly increased. While development would lag somewhat in the satellite principalities, those regimes were kept loyal through the protection of the shah and exemption from military duties. Iran primarily remained an agricultural empire, but there was no question the regime was fostering economic change.
   Tehran was keen to keep European squabbling at arm’s length, only involving itself so far as it suited the regime’s interests. With Russia’s pivot to containment of Iran under Suvorin, and hostility towards the Scandinavia protection of Hashemite Palestine, the Naser al-Din had little choice but to bind himself economically to the Habsburg Monarchy, though a formal political alliance was avoided. The preexisting Habsburg outpost at Bandar Abbas evolved into a crucial exchange point for technology, goods, and bullion. Further treaties were also signed to bolster trade with Portugal, another power seen as a relatively harmless partner. Iran found lesser economic partners in the Durrani, Mysore, and Oman, attempting to foster a skeletal pan-Islamic economic system.

Qajar-Ottoman War (1887-1893)
   Naser al-Din’s adoption of Cilicia as a protectorate in 1887 brought about renewed conflict with the Ottomans. Most Iranians were confident it would be an easy victory. The empire was still riding high from the humbling of the Turks in the 1870s and believed they were suicidal to attempt an assault. Yet, they would soon be disabused of these notions. The initial Ottoman assault in Anatolia saw thousands captured and humiliated the aged Iranian commander Bahman Mirza Qajar, who was shortly thereafter sacked by the shah.
   The Iranian counteroffensive in 1888 did much to boost national morale, though in the process it also extended the length of the conflict markedly. Even as the war became entrenched in an extended frontline later in the decade, many later commanders pointed to the Qajar successes in 1888 as proof that, with just a little more effort, massive gains could be achieved. The brutal nature of the conflict, with chemical weapons and massive casualties, wore down the morale on both sides. Yet, Tehran was insistent on continued pressure, especially after the military coup in the Ottoman Empire. Even as the Saudis returned to Arabia, igniting yet another front in the conflict, it was believed that the situation was salvageable.
   Economically, the Qajar-Ottoman War saw Iran isolated. Put upon by France, the Portuguese curtailed their trade with the empire. The Habsburgs, while more inclined to financially support the shah, were themselves consumed with internal affairs, especially as the economy stalled in the aftermath of the Panic of 1888. Domestically, as the Iranian economy shifted to a war footing, development projects were put on hold, manpower directed either to the military and military industries. Thus, while Iran proper, Iraq, and Syria were themselves spared from the direct horrors of war, the home front saw declining economic opportunity, lowered standards of living, and economic dislocation. As the conflict extended year upon year, the patience of the people began to ebb.
   The 1892 Mutiny of Antioch demonstrated the domestic situation was markedly deteriorating, thousands of troops declaring a refusal to be sent to the front lines, sacking the city, and tearing down images of the shah. The men demanded a constitution, a relaxation of domestic suppression, and suffrage if they were to fight any longer. When a larger, loyal force appeared on the scene, most mutineers surrendered, the rebel leadership being punished despite promises otherwise. Their clarion call echoed throughout the realm, igniting sympathetic protests as far away as Mashhad, near the Durrani border. While local police forces kept order, the strength of public support at long last pushed the Iranian leadership towards peace with the Ottomans. The domestic situation seemed on the verge of unravelling. What good would come from conquering Anatolia, if Iran destroyed itself in the process? With the mediation of George IV, the Treaty of Newcastle restored peace to the region, though many looked on the terms bitterly, seeing the war as a failure.

[Spamage]

Iranian Soldiers During the Qajar-Ottoman War, 1890
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Great Malaise (1893-1900)
   There was no question that the foundations of the monarchy had been shaken by the Qajar-Ottoman War. While Cilicia had been protected and the Ottomans had not regained their former glory, the peace felt hollow. Iran’s proclamations of total victory at the start of the fighting were embarrassing in retrospect, especially when compared to the final Treaty of Newcastle. Thousands of young men had perished with little to show for it. Events such as the Mutiny of Antioch demonstrated that the authority of the Shah was in question and the monarchy seemed discredited. The assumption of Iran’s inevitable expansion into Anatolia was replaced with questions over whether the empire could maintain its extensive grip on the Near East.
   This political strain was coupled with a poor economic rebound. With the Panic of 1888, foreign capital was not forthcoming and many of the government’s ambitious projects found themselves put on hold as loans dried up or came due. As foreign demand of Iranian goods slowed, so did the industrialization of urban areas, the poor slums of major cities growing larger. Many soldiers returned from the fighting found their old jobs having evaporated in their absence. Matters were not helped by a series of corruption scandals that rocked the regime in the mid-1890s, reports by foreign journalists detailing extensive graft, profiteering, and local tax embezzlement on the part of tribal leaders and appointees of the shah.
   Discontent manifested itself in demands for political reforms. Iran was one of the few remaining absolute monarchies in the world, an increasingly small club that included the likes of France and Portugal. Despite the government’s unceasing commitment to maintaining this, it had not stopped constitutional sentiments from seeping into the realm and infecting the minds of the people. The economic and cultural boom of the 1870s masked growing reformist sentiments. Some, especially in the aftermath of the Qajar-Ottoman War, went so far as to call for the toppling of the monarchy outright.
   The typical reformist in the Qajar Empire was, perhaps a bit paradoxically, a Persian. The most developed and wealthiest portion of the realm, many Persians felt the government was favoring minority groups at their own expense. There was also a good deal of resentment after the Qajar-Ottoman War, where thousands of Persians had been sent to their deaths solely so the shah could expand his feudal network. Iranian reformists thus came in many flavors, ranging from nationalists upset over the presence of Habsburg merchants to radicalized university students and resentful military veterans. Driven underground by consistent government suppression, pro-democratic groups operated shadowy organizations on the fringes, distributing illicit literature and plotting against the government. In addition to a constitution, their demands increasingly began to encompass broader administrative reform, the abdication of the shah, abolition of slavery, and a protectionist economic program.
   Another source of domestic opposition to Naser al-Din emerged from the Shi’ite clergy, increasingly upset over the government’s tolerant attitude in regards to religion. The Armenian Christians, Sunni Kurds, Jews, Zoroastrians, Yazidi, and numerous other religious minorities all worshiped fairly unmolested. While the crown had attempted a tacit method of conversion with the construction of numerous Shi’ite mosques in its acquired territories, a lack of follow-through meant nothing came of this. Coupled with the shah’s backing of Sunni control over Mecca and Medina, hardliners were increasingly upset. Some framed the failures in the Qajar-Ottoman War as punishment for a government that had taken a lax attitude towards doctrine.
   Yet, the regime was not without its supporters. Naser al-Din was backed by the bazaari merchants and the nascent Iranian business interests, willing to overlook recent difficulties due to the success they had achieved under his rule in the past. Likewise, the nobles and other elites that were wary of too much reform tended to side with the government. The Shah also enjoyed the staunch support of his various dependencies. Cilicia was grateful for the aid provided against the Ottoman invasion. Others, such as the Kurds, Alawites, and Armenians were afraid they would be subjected to Persian majoritarianism under a constitutional system, outvoted at every turn and subjugated to the whims of a jealous electorate. This fear of democracy motivated most of the minorities in the empire, who saw their concessions as threatened.
   The decade thus became a time of domestic unease. Political assassinations were not uncommon, often targeting ministers of the shah. The foreign minister Mohammad-Ali Ala ol-Saltaneh was shot to death in the streets in 1895, igniting a massive crackdown in the city, the government forces raiding houses and arresting dozens. While no single culprit was found, the shah’s agents claimed to have uncovered a vast opposition network in the city. In response to events such as this, and not fully trusting the loyalty of the army after the Mutiny of Antioch, Naser al-Din also greatly expanded the secret police, seeking to root out any dissidents. The shah himself escaped assassination in 1897, the perpetrator a disgruntled veteran of the late war who had fallen into poverty. Some wondered aloud if Iran would follow France’s example of doubling-down on absolutism and domestic tyranny.
   As the 1890s came to a close, there would be cause for hope. The discovery of petroleum and extensive oil reserves in both Persia and Mesopotamia would point the way forward for future economic development, though it was expected that foreign capital would be necessary to fully realize the potential there. Foreign speculators, largely ignoring Iran during the 1890s, suddenly found their interest piqued once more, though the shah was forced to balance domestic sentiments in favor of Iranian-controlled oil production with the realities of obtaining foreign funding. Many hoped the next decade of the shah’s rule would be as stable and prosperous as the 1880s had been.

Early Construction of Iranian Oil Pipelines, 1899
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Long Reign (1848-1900)
   The shah has been a great survivor, the longest continuous reigning leader in the world at the turn of the century. Naser al-Din’s tenure has seen tremendous progress, Iran following up on his father’s gains with the total acquisition of Mesopotamia, Syria, Armenia; much of the Caucuses; and the bulk of Arabia. Though the government faced continuous obstacles, and much work remains, Naser al-Din has undoubtedly been one of the most impactful Iranian leaders in centuries. Yet, he is no longer a young man. Already in his late sixties, many look ahead to the future and question what will become of the monarchy after his reign is over. Will the Qajar system survive the death of its strongest leader or will lingering discontent from the Qajar-Ottoman War spill over into reform and a shattering of the old order?
   Of great importance is the matter of succession. The shah’s eldest son Prince Mass'oud Mirza, seen as a competent and popular figure, is ineligible for the Peacock Throne under traditional rules of succession due to his mother’s non-Qajar origin. This is despite his successes in commanding soldiers during the Qajar-Ottoman War. Instead, the shah’s heir is his second son, Mozaffar ad-Din, widely seen as a wastrel who has frequently feuded with his father. Many, including some reformists, have proposed defying tradition and altering the succession, though traditionalists and staunch backers of the shah have balked at the prospect. Others have floated naming the shah’s youngest son Kamran Mirza as heir, though like his eldest brother he too lacks the proper pedigree. While the matter of succession was once academic, the increasingly aged state of Naser al-Din has raised the issue to greater importance.

Naser al-Din Shah Qajar, the Longest Reigning Sovereign at the Turn of the Century, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

China: The Realities of Reform

Streets of Nanjing, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Li Hongzhang (1876-1891)
Intervention and Recovery (1876-1880)
   With the expulsion of the Koreans, the Middle Kingdom enjoyed domestic peace for the first time in nine years. Much had changed during the Chinese Civil War with the final collapse of the Xing Dynasty, mass dislocations in the subsequent Korean invasion, and severe damage to internal cohesion. Yet, the fires of war had also brought about positive cultural changes due to the necessity of survival, including a surge in republican sentiment, the weakening of stifling traditionalism, and a willingness of the new government to embrace modernization. Still China in 1876 was a nation in tatters. Much needed to be done to get the republic back on track.
   Yet, there would be no time to rest, even if the homeland was at peace, the government immediately pivoting to an assault on French Burma in one of the most provocative diplomatic moves in recent Chinese history. While domestic opinion was mixed, many Chinese seeing little value in this sort of foreign adventurism in the aftermath of so much domestic chaos, Li’s actions turned out to be well rewarded. Capitalizing on Paris’ preoccupation with India proper, the local Shan population largely was liberated before any sort of counteroffensive could be prepared. With the Congress of Copenhagen in 1880 restoring peace to the region, these gains were cemented.

The New Constitution (1880-1881)
   Amidst the reform and reconstruction, political changes were occurring in the Chinese Republic as well. The Constitution of 1876 was perhaps one of the most liberal governing documents in the world. It promised direct elections, regional autonomy for China’s ethnic minorities, and a revamped administrative system. Recognizing the state of affairs at the time, the government held off formal implementation of the document until 1881, focusing on preparing the republic in the interim.
   The elections of 1880 were a momentous occasion in Chinese history. To little surprise, Li Hongzhang was elected to the presidency, winning a single 10-year term through 1891. A war hero and near universally respected figure, it was hoped that his guidance would insure the stability of the new government. He led the National People’s Party, a social-democratic movement aimed at reforming and improving the lives of the Chinese people.
   Yet, Li’s overwhelming democratic mandate was accompanied by a more mixed result in the People’s House and Senate. In addition to the center-left National People’s Party, other political movements had formed. Former Xing loyalists gravitated towards the conservative Unity Party, which advocated a republican system but the retention of many traditional practices. The Federalist Party demanded regional autonomy and a weakening of the central government. More extreme leftist elements coalesced into the Democratic People’s Movement, demanding drastic and revolutionary economic reforms. Ethnic, self-interested groups largely won the day in the small enclaves. Between these new movements, and those elected as nonpartisan delegates, Li held only a narrow majority in both chambers. This meant that governance would have to necessarily involve compromising his strongly-held democratic beliefs.

Public Celebrations of the New Constitution, 1880
(Source: Midjourney, Made by Me)

Attempting to Build a New China (1881-1890)
   Despite the lofty goals of the constitution, the realities on the ground soon superseded full implementation at times. China was a massive republic, triple the size of Russia in population. Coupled with the existing disruptions to administration and communication caused by the Korean Invasion and Chinese Civil War, this meant that bad-faith actors had ample room to operate outside of the government’s control. Ofttimes these figures were military officials who had aided the republican cause in the Civil War. While elections had been held, in many isolated regions local notables and strongmen used their pull to sway the results in their home provinces in ways that suited themselves, electing loyalists to the national government. Earnest reformers in the remote regions of China, particularly the south and west, found themselves either outvoted, intimidated into silence, or even sometimes murdered. For the populace in these regions, peasants who had never known true democracy, there was generally political apathy or ignorance that kept complaints fairly quiet. A headache for the democratic Li, many of these undemocratic delegates associated with his National People’s Party, seeing the potential benefits for patronage.
   Thus, a two-tiered system emerged in China, with the regions under the firm, watchful eye of the central government in Nanjing (generally the Chinese Plain between the Yellow and Yangtze rivers) largely following both the letter and spirit of the constitution, while more isolated provinces operated in a less democratic fashion. President Li himself was upset by the developments, but did not wish to reignite the flames of civil war by embarking on a purge of these actors, with the unspoken understanding that his majority in the People’s House unfortunately depended on some of these undemocratic representatives. The ombudsmen, included in the constitution to prevent this sort of graft and corruption, proved themselves often to be all to eager to turn a blind eye in exchange for payoffs.
   The government was also hampered to some extent by the sheer size of the legislative body. With 1500 members in the People’s House and 700 senators, the Chinese legislature was the largest in the world. With so many differing personalities, political loyalties proved to be fragile thing and organizing a working majority for legislation took an excessive amount of time.
   Yet, even with these limitations to true democracy, the government did not cease in its efforts to modernize and reform society. There as a particular effort to lift up the impoverished and neglected classes. Foot binding of women was banned in 1882, a basic social security system for widows, orphans, and the elderly was rolled out in 1884, and safety standards implemented in 1885. The government also sought to simplify and universalize Chinese language, resulting in the formal establishment of ‘Standard Chinese’ in 1886. The new language system and reformed characters were rolled out into the education, judicial, and political systems in waves throughout the second half of Li’s term.
   A novel push was made to welcome foreign immigrants into China, particularly the discriminated or second-class residents of Europe such as the Dutch, Jews, Northern Italians, Spanish, and Eastern Europeans. The Naturalization Act of 1884 inaugurated the new policy. The government in Nanjing portrayed China as a beacon of democracy in an authoritarian world President Li offered extremely generous economic aid to those willing to immigrate to China. The results were somewhat mixed. Several tens of thousands of Europeans did relocate, congregating into ethnic ghettos in the coastal cities such as Shanghai, Tianjin, and Nanking, but the perceived favoritism shown towards foreigners agitated many ethnic Han Chinese. Many of these citizens resented the immigrants, seeing their rapid usurpation of government posts, refusal to integrate into a Chinese way of life, and economic success as a threat. They were framed as a fifth column in Chinese society, it only being a matter of time before political movements would arise to take advantage of this resentment.
   Finally, as the leader of the Republican forces in the Chinese Civil War, Li recognized the importance of improving China’s military standing. While the republic enjoyed the largest source of raw manpower in the world, it was outgunned by foreign powers. Cooperation with Naples prior to the Quiet Coup in 1888 saw domestic, Chinese weapons manufacturing brought into being. This was accompanied by a reformation of the armed forces along western lines. Likewise, millions was invested in ship-building, the government employing some of the new European immigrants into engineering and manufacturing a new navy. It was clear that China would be joining Quebec, Colombia, Japan, New Holland, and Britain in the scramble for power in the Pacific Ocean, especially through the use of their Korean allies as proxies.  

Li Hongzhang, First President of China, 1889
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Republican Split (1884-1891)
   The eruption of the Japanese Civil War saw President Li pledge aid to the Imperial cause. On paper, this seemed contradictory, the republican Chinese aiding the establishment of a monarchy, but the reality was that Li and his allies had been cultivating close ties with the Imperial Court in Kyoto for years, seeing it as a means of punishing the Shogunate.
   This put Nanjing into direct opposition with Moscow, its erstwhile ally. The split in regards to the Japanese Civil War was the breaking point in Sino-Russian relations, though it had perhaps been a long time coming. Both governments had tried to reconcile in the 1870s, using their shared republicanism as a means of binding themselves to one another, as was seen in Russia’s joining of the Chinese-led Demintern alliance in 1878. Yet, the Chinese electorate in particular was opposed to cooperation. Most citizens still resented Russia’s invasions of Manchuria, Xinjiang, and Mongolia, seeing their northern neighbor as a suffocating presence. Russian officials, meanwhile, resented a Chinese ‘haughtiness’ that was seen as irrational given the current balance of power.
   Thus, aside from its forced alliances with Korea and Burma, China was fairly diplomatically isolated from the mid-1880s onwards, especially as the new republican government in Japan embarked on a clear path of alliance with Russia aimed at containing Nanjing. The French remained offended by Chinese intervention in Burma. Dai Viet and Siam detested Chinese republicanism. Scandinavia and Austria were protective over their concessions but unwilling to cooperate further. Overtures to New Holland and Britain both seemed to have positive responses, but little concrete developments came, especially as the government would take a more inward focus under Li’s successor.

Zhang Zhidong (1891-1900)
Elections of 1890 (1890-1891)
   Li Hongzhang was prohibited from running for reelection by the Constitution of 1876, formally confirming his retirement from governance in 1889. It was widely understood that the 1890 elections thus would represent a major turning point in the republic, with all central government offices in the legislature and the presidency up for election at the same time.
   While Li backed one of his proteges, Kang Youwei, as the candidate of the National People’s Party, Kang’s radical beliefs on some issues, including a push for further social reforms and the weakening of traditional family structures, alienated him from most powerbrokers. Furthermore, whatever respect the median voter had for Li, it did not necessarily translate into partisan loyalty. Instead, the conservative Unity Party triumphed under the leadership of Zhang Zhidong, who won the presidency with a plurality of the vote. Unlike many members of his political party, Zhidong had been on the Republican side of the Chinese Civil War, only joining the opposition as he viewed Li’s administration as guilty of severe government overreach. Yet again the Chinese electorate had chosen a widely respected war-hero to lead the nation.
   Despite the political differences, the transition between administrations proved to be fairly stable. Li was genuinely committed to democratic openness and respected the choice of the electorate. On January 1st, 1891 Zhang formally assumed office as the second President of China. Li Hongzhang, for the first time in almost three decades, was now an ordinary citizen. While the ex-president continued to reside in the capital, and served as the de facto leader of the National People’s Party, he would no longer have any formal political power.

[Spamage]

Zhang Zhidong, the Second President of China, 1895
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

An Inefficient Administration (1890-1900)
   Whatever his initial goals, it soon became clear that President Zhang would be hampered by an inability to get legislation passed. The Unity Party had won only a plurality of the seats in the People’s House and the Senate. While the independents could be counted on to achieve a working majority in the Senate, the House was seen as hopelessly dysfunctional. Only the most popular proposals could be enacted, ofttimes with extensive rewards for certain districts in return for the support of their legislators. For the strongmen in the outlying provinces this proved to be a bonanza, the men merging their political interests, local business, and government projects to create fortunes for themselves.
   The most egregious example was the National Railroad Development Act, passed in 1893. The goal of the legislation was laudable, President Zhang seeking to improve domestic transport and establish a reliable, working railway network throughout the whole of China. When first introduced, the bill consisted of roughly several dozen pages clearly listing out plans for surveying, funding the projects, and specific railway networks to be established. By the time the law passed the People’s House it had morphed into a monstrous bill of more than one hundred pages contracting various local firms (some of which did not even exist beyond paper) to construct the railways at inflated costs. Many politicians were either friends or closely connected to the companies listed. Likewise, the eventual rail companies themselves went from being publicly held to private firms that would operate as for-profit entities.
   This corruption did not go unnoticed, newspapers in the various urban centers reporting on the shameful development. Yet, President Zhang felt obligated to sign the proposal into law, still seeing the benefit of having operable railways as outweighing the taint of corruption. This would be the general pattern of his administration. While the president was well-meaning, and would enjoy notable successes, including the reform of the navy in 1897, these were overshadowed by inefficient and corrupt stipulations tacked on to legislation.

Opening of Chinese Railway, 1895
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Black Banner Movement (1889-1900)
   The 1890s saw the emergence of a new political force on the Chinese right, the Black Banner Movement. The potency of nationalism, wedded to a historic sense of Han Chauvinism, fueled this reactionary, anti-democratic force in China proper. While the movement failed to attract much support in the 1890 national elections, winning only 1 seat in the People’s House, it began to explode in popularity as time went on.
   The goal of the Black Banner Movement was simple, a reassertion of Chinese superiority. There were many who felt that President Zhang was an incompetent sell-out, while President Li had drifted too far into Westernism and reform. Capitalizing on xenophobic resentment of the new immigrants, economic malaise, corruption in the outlying provinces, and perceived national humiliation, the Black Banner Movement electrified the people. The new political party called for the cleansing of Chinese society and the removal of foreign influence. This meant the expulsion of the Russians, Scandinavians, and Austrians in addition to the European immigrants in China. One step further, leaders called for the prohibition of Chinese Christians, substantial constitutional reforms to make the government less ‘western’, and abolition of the autonomous regions. While they formally accepted the Constitution of 1876, there were many in the party who questioned the document and believed that it required substantial amendments, including some policies so extreme as the curtailing of suffrage and limits to the freedom of the press.
   Initially the government ignored the potency of these arguments. It was only with the success of the Black Banner movement in several by-elections in regions that had been perceived as safe People's Nationalist or Unity Party seats that the establishment took notice. Through by-election victories alone, the Black Banner presence in the People's House increased from 1 seat to 17 in the span of the decade. Somewhat paradoxically, the Black Banner Movement was strongest in the regions with the most democratic governance, their populist appeals carrying the day among a discontented electorate. The established, more mainstream parties meanwhile were only able to maintain their majorities through the connivance and corruption of local officials in the outlying provinces, far from Nanjing’s watchful eye.
   Li privately expressed despair over the growing strength of the movement. As a man who had fought for the republican cause and shepherded the republic through its perilous early years, he was profoundly disappointed that the electorate rewarded him by pivoting towards demagogues and extremists. The Black Banner movement was seen by the aged leader as a millstone around the neck of the republic. Their tirades against foreigners damaged diplomatic relations with the other established powers and got in the way of his foreign policy goals. Domestically, their heavy-handed propositions threatened to topple the relatively liberal ideals of the Chinese Republic.

The Elections of 1900 (1899-1900)
   After 10 years under President Zhang, China would once more head to the polls in 1900. While Zhang had come to office as a moderate conservative reformer, he left office viewed by many as hopelessly corrupt and incompetent. His administration had extremely little public support. Most conservatives had abandoned the tainted Unity Party in favor of the newly established Republican Party.
   Thus, the Presidential Election of 1900 in China would be a raucous affair. Many perceived the 1890s to have been a waste of valuable time, ignoring some of the real successes of Zhang's tenure. It was widely assumed Kang Youwei would again run on behalf the National People's Party, once again with the approval of former President Li. During the 1890s Kang had become more outspoken in his opposition to domestic corruption and advocated progressive reform. This included rooting out corruption on the local level once and for all. The conservative Republican Party was leaning towards Xu Yingkui, yet another commander from the Chinese Civil War, though one who had not served in President Zhang's tainted administration. Further to the left and right, extremist elements were on the rise. Ma Yukun was named by the central committee of the Black Banner Movement as presumptive nominee for president, while further to the left the socialists and put forward Cai Yuanpei. Cai promised to reform the system by any means necessary, even if extrajudicially, to achieve a more equitable outcome for the Chinese people. Given the decade between elections, the Chinese electorate understood the stakes of the election could not be any higher, the results determining the path of the republic for the foreseeable future.

Quebec: A Disputed Succession

Streets of Montreal, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Philip I (1876-1895)
Quebec Ascendant (1876-1885)
   Quebec had been one of the primary benefactors in the bloody North American War, seizing yet more territory around the Great Lakes and demonstrating that, despite its small population size, the realm was not to be ignored. Unlike New England and Louisiana, Quebec proper had seen little bloodshed over the course of the conflict. While the blockade had wrought economic damage and thousands of families would forever mourn the loss of their sons, the conflict could still be called a semi-victory. Unlike Louisiana, no land had been surrendered and unlike New England, the capital was not in ruins.
   Emperor Philip echoed the sentiment of the age when he told his cabinet in its first meeting in 1876, “We have won an empire, now we must build it.” The government would take an active role in facilitating economic growth in the coming two decades. Despite misgivings from New England, which relished its role as economic intermediary for Quebec and Europe, Dutch immigrants oversaw the construction of the Saint Lawrence Seaway, expanding the waterway to allow for access from the Great Lakes by sea. A bonanza of railway building likewise saw the various settlements further integrated, the freight transit proving essential for moving many raw materials to either ports or domestic manufactories.
   The later 1870s and most of the 1880s would thus be a time of tremendous prosperity, the economy drastically expanding thanks to continued immigration coupled with the application of novel inventions such as hydropower. Cities such as Montreal, Toronto, and Roquefort expanded significantly, populated by thousands of immigrants looking for work and lured from Europe by promises of prosperity. Still, the vast majority of Quebecois economic activity remained extractive in nature during the second half of the nineteenth century, though there were tremendous strides made in terms of industrialization. After the 1880s immigration to the Prairies also began to increase tremendously, opening up more land for farming. The forests and fields of Quebec provided vital exports, fueling economic growth in countries as far afield as France, Austria, and Prussia.
   While the economy may have been booming, diplomatically Quebec was spent. After so much sacrifice and involvement in concert with their allies in the 1870s, the government demonstrated and increased reluctance to adhere to an active foreign policy in the second half of the decade. Emperor Philip and his government were content with the empire they had crafted. While the gains in the Americas and the Pacific were to be protected, he felt there was little need to extend them further. Only in acute crises, such as the threats of Colombia to intervene in the Japanese Civil War, did Montreal stir from its contentment with the current state of affairs.

Railway completed in 1890s
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Domestic Politics (1876-1891)
   The Constitution of 1876 presaged a new era in Quebec. Before its implementation all aspects of the realm’s government had been pieced together by various royal decrees over the decades. Emperor Philip’s decision to codify it in a uniform document was thus a major development.
   The existing political arrangements were challenged by the new systems, the old parties weakening as a new generation came to the forefront of affairs and electoral participation increased. Both the Whigs and Conservative Union would be replaced in the 1880s as a new decade and new political disputes saw their old divisions rendered obsolete. While the Worker’s Party endured, even it was prone to fragmentation as the pragmatists and the dogmatists vied for control, it shifting towards radicalism as the century wound down.
   The Crown remained, or perhaps even increased, in its role as an active political player. Wary of the allure of Catholic Republicanism, Reactionary Socialism, or other extremist ideologies, Philip decided to tacitly back the Catholic People’s Party (CPP) shortly after its foundation in 1880. This movement was more palatable to the working classes than the old Conservative Union had been, championing common-sense safety regulations and basic social reforms to keep people from total impoverishment.
   There were shifts on the left as well. The more progressive and reformist elements of the Whigs left the party after the 1876 elections, joining with the pragmatists in the Worker’s Party to form the Social Union of Quebec (SUQ). While still framing itself as monarchist, the Social Union believed in a stronger welfare state than that championed by the CPP. They pushed for universal healthcare, pensions, and better working conditions. Likewise, there was a push in a more secular direction in the SUQ, which won votes from many non-Catholic immigrants.
   Thus, the old-school factions of both the Conservative Union and the Whigs found themselves isolated, longtime rivals marrying one another in a wedding of convenience with the formation of the Liberal Party of Quebec. Unlike the other two major parties, the Liberals championed economic deregulation, all the while calling for limits to royal authority and the protection of private property.
   In the 1881 election the CPP dominated the old Conservative Union and expanded the appeal into more working-class areas. Joseph-Adolphe Chapleau was named Prime Minister in the second government after the constitution. Chapleau was reelected in 1886 served as Prime Minister through 1891, when he announced his retirement. His ten years at the held of Quebec’s government saw the establishment of many political norms. The parties were courteous to one another, “disagreement without being disagreeable”. Yet, in terms of leadership he tended to let Emperor Philip take the initiative.
   The 1891 election saw the first breakthrough of the SUQ, where it won a bare majority. Amédée Papineau became the third Prime Minister under the 1876 Constitution. Unlike Chapleau, he was determined to exercise a degree of independence from the Crown. While this may not have mattered in the earlier decade, coinciding as it did with the drama within the royal family, Papineau found himself placed in an awkward position in regards to the succession.
   While critics would charge that politics and elections in the empire during the reign of Philip were mere ‘window dressing’, as the Crown still exercised control behind the scenes, it was still a major development and allowed for the populace to gain an active voice in the political process. Throughout the empire turnout was respectable and generally the emperor governed in line with the wishes of his populace, as expressed in their votes.
   Yet, just as important as it is to emphasize the increasingly representative nature of Quebec politics in the 1880s, there were still certain areas of the empire where old resentments lingered. The “Irreconcilables” were the British subjects that had been handed over the Quebecois administration with the Peace at Albany. This portion of the empire saw extremely low turnout throughout the century. Resentment sizzled, the populace growing increasingly republican unlike their fellow staunch royalist Yankees still under British control further to the east. These subjects saw themselves as subjugated to a foreign power, abandoned by a careless king in London. With republicans and other separatists groups prohibited, many locals demonstrated their defiance by simply not voting at all.

Josephe-Adolphe Chapleau, Second Prime Minister under the Constitution of 1876
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Tragedy of Alexander-Philippe and the Mont Tremblant Affair (1876-1895)
   Prince Imperial Alexander-Philippe was long a troubled man. Once a happy child, at age 7 he was particularly affected by the assassination of his grandfather Henry II in 1875, sitting at the king’s bedside as he slowly died of sepsis. From then on, the prince was melancholic, prone to outbursts and a bit reclusive. His studies suffered, the boy more prone to daydream than learn the ins-and-outs of Quebecois government. His father, Emperor Philip, was little help, tending to be a domineering and overbearing figure to his only son. He viewed the Prince Imperial as weak, preferring to spend time with his favorite daughter Wilhelmina, with whom he enjoyed traditionally masculine pastimes such as shooting and riding.
   The situation did seem to improve in the 1880s as the Prince Imperial matured, particularly under the tutelage of François-Xavier Garneau. Alexander-Philippe became particularly close with his fourth cousin Joseph Louis de Rigaud de Vaudreuil. The two men were inseparable, Vaudreuil accompanying the prince on his grand tour of Europe from 1888-1890. The Quebecois entourage was entertained by cousins and relations at the courts of Versailles, Vienna, Berlin, and Naples. Louis XX took a particular liking to his cousin, the two bonding over their similar age and heavy responsibilities.
   Emperor Philip had hoped his son would come back from his voyage betrothed, perhaps to one of Frederick-Louis of Prussia’s daughters. Nothing preoccupied the mind of the emperor more than determining the House of Hohenzollern in Quebec would continue through his own line. With a paucity of male heirs, it was essential that the Prince Imperial guarantee stability by finding a wife and settling down. Yet, Alexander-Philippe demonstrated a reluctance to wed. There was a public row in the royal family upon the Prince Imperial’s return in 1890. At the docks where the prince’s vessel arrived, the emperor publicly accused his son of being a contemptible libertine based on stories of the prince’s parties across Europe. Alexander-Philippe stormed off in a public show of defiance.
   Princess Wilhelmina, Imperial Prime Minister Chapleau, and Empress Eleanora Natalia were forced to mediate between the two men. Philip was talked out of his plans to disinherit his son, dissuaded from doing so by the fact he detested his brother Prince Wilhelm even more than Alexander-Philippe. Both aired their grievances, the emperor complaining about his son’s shirking of his duties, the heir demanding more autonomy and a position of his own. Through their intermediaries, it was agreed that Alexander would marry a bride of sufficient standing, but of his own choice, by 1892. The Prince Imperial would remain absent from Court in Montreal and would set up a separate household in Toronto, serving as the Imperial representative for Grands Lacs.  
   This seemed to settle matters, but 1892 came and went and the Prince Imperial remained unmarried. Stories of raucous parties hosted by the prince only served to enflame tensions between the two courts at Montreal and Toronto. The matter became political as well, Archbishop of Montreal Édouard-Charles Fabre publicly castigating the disconnect between a vibrant court life and industrial poverty. The conservative establishment was lockstep with the emperor, some newspapers even quietly circulating accusing the Prince Imperial of an inappropriate relationship with Vaudreuil, who remained by his side.
   Fed up, and without consulting his son, Emperor Philip formally arranged in 1893 that Alexander-Philippe would wed Princess Paulina of Prussia, seven years his junior. While Berlin was fully aware of the domestic situation between the emperor and his heir, the chance of binding the Hohenzollern branches together once more was too tempting for the Prussian king to resist. Recognizing the princess’ youth, the wedding was planned for 1895.
   The Prince Imperial only discovered his betrothal by reading about it in the newspaper. He was apoplectic, alternating between rage and despair. He decided to flee to France and seek refuge at the court of Louis XX, only deciding otherwise when Vaudreuil talked him down, highlighting the perilous political situation at Versailles after the Coup of 1890. Over the next several months, Alexander-Philippe seemed to accept his fate. In an olive branch to his father, he expressed his ‘great pleasure’ over the match to the press. The emperor and heir saw each other in person for the first time in four years in Christmas 1894, the reconciliation arranged by Empress Eleanora Natalia. It seemed that, for the first time in years, there would be peace within the Quebecois royal family. This would not last.
   Despite his repaired relations with his son, Philip could not help but meddle further in the situation. Just weeks into 1895 he informed Alexander-Philippe that Vaudreuil would be sent away due to the ‘unnatural rumors’ that surrounded him and the Prince Imperial. The emperor emphasized that now that he was to be married, his son must give up all hints of impropriety so not as to offend the court of Berlin. A friendship could be maintained from a distance, the emperor said, but there was no way that Vaudreuil could continue as a member of his retinue. An infuriated Alexander-Philippe was told that Vaudreuil had already departed and there would be no chance to say farewell. The empress tried to privately intervene, reminding her son that he would one day rule and could reverse this injustice, but that was little comfort to him.

[Spamage]

   Princess Paulina departed Hamburg on March 20th, 1895 amid much fanfare. When news reached her husband-to-be across the Atlantic via telegraph, the Prince Imperial announced that he intended to go hunting at the royal lodge at Mont Tremblant one last time as a bachelor. Vaudreuil was in tow for the first time the two men were together since he had been banished from court. Given they would be on private royal property, the emperor was willing to look the other way.
   On the morning of March 25th, 1895, the Prince Imperial was late to breakfast. When servants came to his chambers to rouse him, they found both the bodies of Alexander-Philippe and Vaudreuil in his chamber’s. Vaudreuil had been stabbed, though it was unclear if it had been self-inflicted or an act of murder, while the Prince Imperial had himself ingested poison of some sort. A brief note from Alexander-Philippe begged his mother and fiancée for their forgiveness.
   The news shocked the nation. Despite the best efforts of the Crown to ensure secrecy, word spread rapidly. Publicly, the authorities stated that Alexander-Philippe had died suddenly of a heart attack, the Prince Imperial buried in Notre Dame Basilica in a closed coffin service. Vaudreuil’s passing was framed as a result of a tragic accident, his family agreeing to the cover-up. The capital saw a mass outpouring of grief over the death of the heir, while foreign well-wishes poured in. When Princess Paulina docked at Montreal, she was greeted by a party in black, Emperor Philip personally meeting her and informing her of what had occurred. Over time, and in less reputable news sources, greater sordid details of the Mont Tremblant Affair became public. In particular the meddling of the government, fact that Vaudreuil had died the same day, and general history of feuding between father and son caused many to question the official narratives.

Prince Imperial Alexander-Philippe (left) and Joseph Louis de Vaudreuil (right)
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Succession Crisis (1895-1896)
   The passing of Alexander-Philippe blew the Quebecois succession wide open. The emperor, who felt that his zeal to force his son to produce heirs had been responsible for his suicide, was devastated. Yet, he would expend just as much effort to guarantee the succession of his favorite child, Princess Wilhelmina.
   The issue of the succession was rather convoluted. Though the Constitution made provisions for female rulers, stating simply that their husbands would play no role in government, the legal basis of succession had never been established, nor had it needed to be, given there had always been a male heir in waiting. Quebec’s roots were a combination of French and Prussian influences and both realms had practiced salic law, barring any female for succeeded to the throne or inheriting in her own right. Now, with only surviving daughters, but several surviving male relatives, Philip was placed in a bind.
   There was a second dimension to the issue though, as even if Philip named one of his daughters as his heir, two of them were the mothers to claimants to foreign thrones. His eldest daughter Therese Marie had been married to Prince Henry de Bourbon, son and heir to the deposed Henry V of Spain. This meant her children by him were in the front of the line for the defunct Spanish throne. The prospect of a Quebec-Spanish Union, especially given the empire had won its independence by rebelling against Spain, was unthinkable. While Wilhelmina, the middle child, was unmarried, the youngest child Princess Petronelle had been wed to Louis-Philippe de Bourbon-Orleans, heir to the Louisianan throne. Petronelle had died in childbirth, but the baby survived, being named Henri-Philippe, Prince of Biloxi and second-in-line to the Louisianan throne after his father. While a Quebec-Louisiana union seemed more feasible than any sort of European ties, this too was extremely controversial. Certainly, the idea of a greater New France had appeal, but by the 1890s the two realms saw each other as allies, not compatriots. Their shared French origins were diluted by very divergent historical paths. Philip was loathe to see his realm fall under the dominion of an heir brought up in New Orleans and of a different dynasty to boot, even if it was his grandson.
   The obvious male heir was Philip’s younger brother Prince Wilhelm but the two brothers had an extremely rocky relationship. As had been the case with the Prince Imperial, Wilhelm detested his brother’s meddlesome and domineering personality, while Philip saw his brother as a jealous malcontent. A particularly passionate dispute had seen Prince Wilhelm relocate to France in the 1880s, though he returned following the death of Alexander-Philippe. Wilhelm wanted the throne, seeing it has his by right and started a whisper campaign to that effect. Yet, even if the two had been willing to make peace amidst their personal quarreling, it would only delay the issue of female succession. Wilhelm had only daughters and, like his brother’s family, his grandchildren were heirs of foreign thrones. Frederica, his eldest, married to Luis II “the Red King” of Mexico in 1891. Given the situation in that country, union with Mexico was seen as even less desirable than either Spain or Louisiana.
   Like a ghost from the past, Prince Louis of Quebec, the 77-year-old uncle of the emperor emerged from retirement. As the last surviving son of the beloved King Louis-Henry, the prince represented old Quebec in the eyes of many, coming from a time when the country was still grappling with its rustic origins. Louis had largely led an apolitical life, retiring from court following the assassination of his brother in 1875. He had spent the interim on his estates, more focused on farming and financial management than current affairs. He framed himself as having heard the calling of the people of Quebec and honoring the family by offering himself as heir, in order to preserve the traditional succession.
   Yet, even the respected Prince Louis had issues. He hardly cut a dashing figure, aged nearly eighty, hard at hearing, and going blind. His sole son, August, was whispered to be mad and remained unmarried at almost fifty years old. His elder daughter Bertha, meanwhile was the deposed Queen consort of Naples and lived in exile in France. Philip publicly rejected him out of hand, claiming that he could not punish his elderly uncle by giving him such a stressful job.

Pragmatic Sanction of 1895
   From the start, Philip backed Princess Wilhelmina as his heir. He claimed his other daughters had surrendered their rights to the throne upon marrying into foreign houses. Theresa Marie and her Spanish Bourbon husband were so upset by this, they relocated to Versailles, while New Orleans protested that young Henri-Philippe had never done anything to merit exclusion from the throne. While the emperor acknowledged his brother’s claim, Philip argued that Wilhelmina had a higher spot in the succession, which would henceforth be male-preference progeniture, but not absolute primogeniture.
   It was a novel development and the public watched with intense interest. To most subjects of Quebec, Wilhelmina was an unknown quantity. While most knew she was Philip’s favorite child, as well as her role in mediating between her brother and father, she was a fairly quiet presence at Court, passing her time in leisure with the emperor rather than in the public eye. Having been rejected by Louis XX in favor of wedding Anna de Bourbon-Savoie, she had yet to marry, even though she was thirty by 1895.
   For precedent in his decision, Philip drew upon the example of the Pragmatic Sanction of 1713, arguing that Prussia, as a member of the Holy Roman Empire, had been bound by Charles VI’s decree, even if Frederick the Great had violated it. He sought to emulate the example with his own Pragmatic Sanction of 1895. Philip formally named Wilhelmina as Princess Imperial and heir to the Empire of Quebec. In order to guarantee the authority of his heir, and recognizing that he did not have unilateral authority, the decree was submitted to the National Assembly and Senate for confirmation.
   The matter became surprisingly political. While the Pragmatic Sanction coasted through the Senate, which was composed of Philip’s hand-picked appointees, within weeks, it was controversial in the National Assembly. Conservatives were reluctant to overturn what they saw as centuries of precedent, no matter how much they respected Philip I. Yet, they eventually fell in line, cajoled by the king. The SUQ however, under Prime Minister Papineau, proved obstinate, determined to extract concessions from the Crown in exchange for approving the decree. The SUQ wanted to mandate direct elections of the Senate, further limit the authority of the Crown to call elections, and taxation of the Catholic Church. Most of these were nonstarters for the conservative sovereign.
   Philip threatened to call new elections to get a National Assembly more to his liking, but Papineau called his bluff, believing that the king would not take such a drastic step. Despite his bluster, Philip was a genuine believer in the Constitution of 1876 and was reluctant to abuse his powers in it. Thus, despite the king’s pushing, Papineau demonstrated his independence by tabling approval with the adjournment of the National Assembly at the end of 1895 without confirmation. Both parties strategized as to how they could come to an agreement during the recess, Philip demonstrating a greater acceptance of compromise in the upcoming 1896 session, if that’s what it took to put the succession to rest.
    The stress of his son’s suicide and cementing Wilhelmina’s claim to the throne were too much for the aging sovereign. After 20 years on the throne, Philip was exhausted. Though only in his fifties, many noted that the emperor looked far older. On February 20th, 1896, he died from a heart attack in his sleep, Empress Eleanora Natalia discovering her husband’s lifeless body in the middle of the night. The servants were roused and a doctor called, but it was determined that it was too late. Philip of Quebec was dead after twenty years on the throne, just months after the death of his son and heir. While everyone had assumed the issue of the succession would still be a decade off in the future, it had emerged far sooner than anticipated.

Amedee Papineau, 1895
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Wilhelmina (1896-)
An Unconventional Succession (1896-1897)
   Wilhelmina wasted no time, roused from her bed by the news of her father’s passing. While stunned by the news, there was no time to mourn. The loyalty of the palace servants bought her valuable time to act. Perhaps Wilhelmina had not been formally confirmed in her right to the throne, that did not change the fact that she felt it was hers by right. Demonstrating a tenacity, and drawing on the history of Prussian militarism, it was to the barracks she went, not the National Assembly. Accompanied by several dozen guardsmen and her mother, the now widowed Eleanora Natalia, Wilhelmina presented herself outside to the local officers in the middle of the night, telling of how dark forces were conspiring to rob her of her inheritance. Indeed, she decried not only her uncle and fellow claimants, but the socialists and crypto-republicans in the National Assembly who would use the chaos to topple the monarchy. Only by supporting her could the realm be saved from both the evils of reactionary thought and godless socialism.
   The gambit worked, the battalions rallying to her cause and marching towards Montreal, the group awash with nationalist zeal. By the time word broke publicly of Emperor Philip’s death, less loyal servants discovering the emperor’s body in the morning, Wilhelmina was parading into the capitol city accompanied by several thousand loyal soldiers and being met with public acclamation. Her succession was presented to the National Assembly as a fair accompli, the new empress underscoring this fact by formally withdrawing the Pragmatic Sanction of 1895 from consideration, arguing that the throne was hers by right and did not require approval from the body. Telegraphs were sent to all corners of the empire, proclaiming the start of a new reign.
   No one was more shocked that the elected representatives. Not only were they late to discover the death of Philip, they had immediately been forced to take sides on the matter of the succession. Prime Minister Papineau only had heard the news upon arriving to his offices in the morning and minutes later word had reached him that Wilhelmina was leading an army on the capitol. While no one doubted Quebec’s roots in Prussian militarism, the past half century had seen steps toward democratization and a greater liberalization of the political process. For the new empress to open her reign in such a direct and authoritative manner was shocking. There were calls in some corners of the National Assembly for the body to exercise its veto power with a 2/3rds majority to force the new empress out, but these went nowhere.
   The developments were so rapid, there was little time for the public to process. Wilhelmina was not unchallenged. Pro-republican protests erupted across English-speaking Quebec, despite the best efforts of local police forces to suppress them, calling for separation from the rest of the empire. Left-wing delegates boycotted the National Assembly in protest of the empress’ actions and several dozen senators appointed by her father likewise resigned in protest. There were also questions about the loyalty of some outlying generals and the prospect of civil war did truly hang in the air for several days.  Yet, there was no clear figure to rally behind. Prince Wilhelm had been visiting his family in Mexico upon the death of his brother and Wilhelmina had his passport voided to prohibit reentry. Louis attracted little sympathy, while the Spanish and Louisianan Bourbons were abroad, in Paris and New Orleans, respectively. It took several weeks, but the situation began to calm down. The senators who had resigned were replaced with staunch loyalists to the empress, while the National Assembly reconvened, cowed into submission by the overwhelming show of support for the empress on behalf of the armed forces. Prime Minister Amédée Papineau, such a thorn in her side just months earlier, came supplicant to the empress and offered his support.
   Wilhelmina’s first acts were to bolster her hold over the throne. Her uncle and grand-uncle were publicly deemed ineligible to succeed as emperor. In her logic, since neither was descended from the sovereign who had promulgated the Constitution of 1876, they could not be counted as heirs to it. She countered the other claimants as well. Reiterating what their father had stated, Therese Marie was ineligible due to her Spanish marriage, while Prince Henri-Philippe of Louisiana was descended from her younger sister, thus was behind her in terms of inheritance.
   Yet, many still wondered about the succession after Wilhelmina, given she lacked children of her own. The empress sidestepped the matter at first, ignoring calls from New Orleans to recognize Henri-Philippe’s claim, recognizing how unpopular a Bourbon monarchy in Quebec could be. Yet, she knew the matter would threaten her as long as it remained unresolved. To the surprise of the realm, the Wilhelmina announced her betrothal to Prince Augustus Leopold of Prussia, a member of an extremely junior branch of the House of Hohenzollern, on June 20th, 1896. As the great-great grandson of Frederick William in his paternal line (though far closer related to Frederick Louis on his maternal side), Augustus Leopold had little prospects other than state service. Wilhelmina’s private query to Berlin in search of a junior member of the dynasty had seemed too good to be true. He abandoned his long-term mistress and crossed the Atlantic at once when the empress had selected him from a list of dynastic candidates. As a minor noble, he would be unable to dominate her or play a significant role in government, while suitably providing for the continuance of the Quebec Hohenzollern line through his surname.
   The move was very popular, serving to bolster support for the unconventional succession. Now the empress could portray herself as protecting Quebec from the succession of a foreign dynasty, not just jealous relatives. To the proud Quebecois, well-versed in their national mythos, the continuance of the Quebec Hohenzollerns was a cause well-worth supporting. It seemed that the domestic situation finally began to stabilize after a chaotic span of several months.

Empress Wilhelmina of Quebec, 1897
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

 
A New Sovereign (1896-1900)
   Wilhelmina’s decisiveness invited some comparisons with her aunt, Queen Charlotte of France, though unlike Charlotte she refrained from sliding into extremism during her first few years on the throne. Most pressing for the sovereign, and the issue that would occupy her early reign, was guaranteeing the succession. After two miscarriages, and open questioning if she was getting too old to have children, the empress was clearly pregnant in 1899, set to give birth in 1900. Quebec and Wilhelmina’s future both seemingly depended on this birth.
   Despite the passage of time, none of the other claimants withdrew their claims on the throne of Quebec. Theresa Maria and her husband called for justice from far-off Versailles, while Prince Wilhelm sought refuge in Mexico with his daughter and son-in-law. Young Henri-Philippe was raised in New Orleans, told that he was the legitimate heir of the late emperor, given he was the eldest male grandson of a branch that had never explicitly renounced the throne. Old Prince Louis remained in Quebec, daring the government to challenge him and growing increasingly vocal from his estates outside of Montreal, ignoring attempts by the Empress to make peace with him.
   Whatever the personal decisions of Empress Wilhelmina, she would have far more power at her disposal than any of her predecessors. In 1800, during the reign of her great-great grandfather Henry I, Quebec had a mere 200,000 inhabitants and the kingdom was but a mere afterthought in global affairs. A century later, the Empire stood at more than 17 million people, one of the foremost global powers, possessing a world-class fleet and colonial possessions across the Pacific. Yet, would the success continue, or would internal disputes and international isolation finally cause the empire to stumble? Many wondered how Empress Wilhelmina would respond to developments in Britain, Mexico, Louisiana, and France as the world began to shift once more.

New England: The Confederation Evolves

The Thriving, Reconstructed Boston, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Henry Wilson (1876-1877)
From the Ashes (1876-1877)
   New England had survived the turmoil of the North American War, but just barely. Yet, the confederation could not rest on its laurels. There remained much to do. Boston, the premier city of the republic, remained a burnt-out husk three years on from the British bombardment in 1873, efforts to integrate the newly-annexed region of Adirondack initially proved controversial, and as the economy shifted from its wartime footing, thousands of returning soldiers found themselves out of work with their old livelihoods in tatters. In a less stable republic, these developments probably would have resulted in widespread social unrest. It was a testament to Chairman Henry Wilson’s enduring popularity and the truly republican pulse of the New England population that the people were willing to endure a little hardship.
   The nation was thus shocked on April 16th, 1877 when Wilson died suddenly of a stroke. The steady hand that had led the confederation was removed in an instant. Wilson’s seven-year tenure of leadership had seen the republic expand, albeit at the cost of thousands on New Englander lives. His leadership had not been without controversy, including the surrender of Nova Scotia in 1871 in exchange for a Quebecois alliance, but on balance most deemed him successful. Yet, the death of a chairman meant the calling of a special election by the end of the year for the remainder of Wilson’s term through 1880.

[Spamage]

James English (1877-1880)
The Abbreviated Term (1877-1880)
   The special election of 1877 saw James English of Connecticut, Wilson’s opponent in the 1875 election, chosen as the next chairman in a surprise result, winning against George F. Hoar, a close Wilsonian ally. The Federalists were triumphant, their first substantial victory in almost a decade of Centralist control. The electorate was clearly looking for a change after the wartime leadership of Wilson. English, who framed himself as a moderate, was seen as a safe candidate.
   Yet, there would be no radical policy changes. The new chairman found himself working with a Centralist Congress, both the House of Delegates and the Senate controlled by the majorities from 1875. In fact, in some aspects English found himself defending the choices of his predecessor against Wilson’s own party. English, who had supported Wilson’s general lowering of tariffs with many powers, saved them from several Centralist attempts to repeal it in the next three years. While the chairman was rewarded with a Federalist House in the 1879 midterm election, the Centralists retained their control of the Senate.

Chairman James Edward English, 1876
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Reconstruction (1877-1880)
   Whatever the political developments, the remainder of English’s term saw substantial economic recovery and growth. The ruined city of Boston blossomed once more quite rapidly, urban planners taking advantage of the destruction wrought by the Royal Navy to refashion the city in a more sensible, modern arrangement. With global markets open to New Englander trade once more, firms were hiring once again and unemployment rapidly plummeted, jobs bringing thousands back into the urban area. This was coupled with Wilson’s relaxed immigration policies, which saw thousands of Europeans relocate to the region. Boston exploded in size, surpassing Philadelphia to become the largest North American city in 1883.
   1880 was widely viewed as a pivotal year. One of Henry Wilson’s final major actions had been the organization of New England’s new possessions in New York, the bill calling for full-integration of the region by that year. The 1870s had seen a deliberate push to welcome the former New Yorkers into the Confederation. Infrastructure was expanded in the region and the people were deliberately given a political voice through territorial elections in 1877. The Adirondackers themselves proved to be somewhat indifferent to the change of government. They had not seen significant carnage in the war and had been abandoned by London. Most consoled themselves with having been joined to an English-speaking power rather than one of the Francophone monarchies.
   The completion of the new capital building in November 1880 symbolized to many that the wounds of war had finally been healed and people could get on with their lives. Indeed, the 1880 election would see war related issues relegated to the background as the citizens of New England looked ahead to the future with hope and optimism.

James Blaine (1880-1890)
Great Realignment (1880-1885)
   No political figure would have quite the stature of James Blaine during the last few decades of the 1800s. Having served as a Centralist delegate to Congress during the North American War, Blaine had been on the political scene for almost two decades, but normally as a background figure. He emerged somewhat as a surprising nominee following the backroom politicking of the 1880 Centralist convention, beating former nominee George Hoar and Senate Leader Aaron Cragin.
   In the general election, Blaine faced Federalist William Barnum of Connecticut, Chairman English declining to run for reelection. The campaign was heated, Blaine accusing his opponent of ballot-stuffing, while Barnum argued the Centralists were anti-democratic with their stringent rules for political participation. In an election that would be typically close for the period, Blaine won with 51.3% of the vote to Barnum’s 48.7%.
   Taking office in 1880, Blaine was forced to deal with the Federalist House of Delegates, a holdover from the 1879 midterm election. Yet, despite the opposition controlling one half of the Congress, Blaine proved to be an able legislator, passing numerous bills that would fracture the existing partisan alignments. By the end of his first term, the two political parties would each represent very different bases of support.
   Despite having been a member of the Centralist Party for decades, and an ardent supporter of Henry Wilson, James Blaine believed in substantial limitations of immigration, which he saw as diluting the ‘true essence’ of New England’s Yankee heritage. The Naturalization Act of 1881 called for a reduction of immigration, created stringent quotas, and made naturalization a more expensive process. While there were carve-outs for the Dutch fleeing French repression, most groups were covered by the restrictive policy. Blaine believed the predominantly Catholic and working-class migrants represented a risk to political stability. The legislation passed with surprisingly muddled support. Wilsonian Centralist loyalists voted against, aghast at Blaine’s proposal, while a faction of Federalist conservatives joined to support the legislation.
   The Tariff of 1883 was the second controversial piece of legislation enacted by Chairman Blaine. An ardent protectionist, Blaine had openly disagreed with Wilson’s tariff reduction with several powers in the 1870s. While willing to make an exception for the North American allies, Blaine saw no reason for lowered tariffs with realms such as Scandinavia and Russia. The Tariff of 1883 saw the tariff rate increased for powers outside of the North American alliance. While the historic pro-business wing of the Centralist Party backed the measure, yet again Wilsonians found themselves alienated by Blaine’s actions. Between the Naturalization Act and the Tariff, tensions in both parties would boil over, the matter coming to a head in the 1885 election.

Chairman James Blaine, 1882
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

1885 Election and Blaine’s Second Term (1885-1890)
   The 1885 election was one of the rare occasions both branches of Congress and the Chairmanship would be up for election simultaneously, the first instance since 1870. All understood its importance. The campaign proved to be the last gasp of the old-style Yankee Federalist party, Blaine's tenure having thrown the political alliances into flux. Many Yankee, old-style aristocratic families found themselves tempted by Blaine’s appeals to the ‘national character’ of New England, his message echoing their earlier anti-immigration proposals from decades past. Likewise, Wilsonian Centralists threatened a break with Blaine’s pro-business push.
   Yet, historic partisanship still remained a potent force. Blaine beat back a Wilsonian challenge at the Centralist Convention in Providence, while Charles Francis Adams triumphed against a growing populist faction seeking to hijack the Federalists. Yet, Adams was not an inspiring figure, failing to incite the sort of passions either in favor or opposed that Blaine was. His support from Yankee constituencies was reduced by defections to Blaine, while Adams' traditional Federalist views made him unappealing for more recent immigrants. In the final result, Blaine defeated Adams with 55.7% of the vote, many noting the extremely low turnout rate. The chairman's coattails extended to Congress, Blaine Centralists defeating Wilsonite Centralists and Federalists to achieve an outright majority in Congress.
   Blaine’s second term thus started with a seemingly resounding mandate, yet it would prove to be far more challenging that his first. New England had long enjoyed its role as a middleman between Quebec and Europe. Most importers to North America preferred to dock as Boston and ship goods from there rather than deal with Quebec's underdeveloped ports at Montreal or Quebec City. The economic integration within the North American alliance had only encouraged this further. Yet, the opening of the St. Lawrence causeway in 1884 and substantial expansions to Quebecois ports undercut New England's position. Blaine was forced to stand idly by as an increasing proportion of merchants shipped directly to Montreal, bypassing Boston completely. Blaine's big business backers were often unwilling to lower prices to be more competitive with the Quebecois, preferring to lay off employees and push for mechanization instead. While not an overnight change, many analysts believe that this shift was primarily responsible for New England's sluggish growth starting in the mid 1880s.
   Diplomatically, New England found itself impotent as Britain embarked on a massive military buildup in North America under Prime Minister Cleveland, many viewing Blaine as impotent. While himself a rabid Anglophobe, once proclaiming he would rather see the outright annexation of British North America to New England before any sort of economic cooperation with London, Blaine understood that the government could not support increased military spending on the scale some were calling for. Here he also alienated some of his staunchest supporters, something that would haunt him in the 1890 election.
   Many were thus shocked then when, in spite of a middling performance during his second term, Blaine used Centralist wins in the 1888 midterm elections as an excuse to announce his intention to run for a third term as Chairman of New England. While not illegal, it had never been done before and was seen as a bit taboo by a good portion of the population. This alone would have made the 1890 election notable, yet developments within the Federalist Party would ensure that it was historic.

Anti-Blaine Political Cartoon, 1883
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Benjamin Butler (1890-1894)
Populist Ascendancy (1890-1891)
   Benjamin Butler exploded onto the political scene in the 1890 election, taking up the mantle of the Federalist Party. A notable New Englander commander in the North American War, he had up until 1890 enjoyed widespread public respect. Disgust with Blaine's tenure had turned him increasingly political. Butler dubbed himself a ‘New Federalist’, seizing control of the political apparatus from the moribund Yankee conservative faction at the party’s convention in Hartford. Butler’s proposals were populist in essence, calling for an end to the ‘Yankee domination’ of the political sphere. He rallied immigrants and the working class into a potent political force, calling for better working conditions, women’s suffrage, and unionization. Many of his supporters had once been Wilsonian Centralists but found themselves alienated by Blaine’s aristocratic tenure.
   When Blaine made the controversial decision to run for a third term, Butler and his supporters denounced the aristocratic tyranny of ‘King James’. Yet, Butler himself incited passionate responses just as much as Blaine. Charles Francis Adams, the prior Federalist nominee, openly broke with Butler and joined the Centralist Party during the campaign, while former Federalist Chairman James English was quiet on how he would be voting. There were also many who questioned the stamina of Butler, who was well into his 70s.
   Unlike prior campaigns, Butler had no compunction about open and direct canvassing and barnstorming, something that would have been deemed unseemly as late as the time of Henry Wilson. These had the effect of both emphasizing his popular support as well as dispelling concerns about his age. He played up his appeal to the masses, promising government investment in regions that backed him. Blaine was forced to respond in kind, embarking on a railroad tour of the Confederation. Yet, when the votes were counted a populist upset occurred. Bulter received 50.5% of the vote to Blaine’s 49.5%, growing economic malaise as a result of the European Panic of 1888 likely contributing to the final result. Taking office in 1890, Butler had to contend with a Blainite congress until the elections of 1891 that saw both houses flip back to the Federalists, Butler able to rally his supporters to vote for his cause once more.

Benjamin Butler, the Beloved Populist, 1891
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The People’s Chairman (1891-1894)
   Butler proved to be a popular politician, albeit perhaps an ineffective one. While the 8-hour workday was cemented with legislation, Butler found himself unable to cobble together majorities to achieve substantial reforms to Blaine’s signature pieces of legislation. The most significant achievement would be the construction of the Erie-Oswego Canal, which aimed to connect New England trade networks directly with the Great Lakes. True to his word, the project was a reward for Adirondack’s support for the Federalists in the 1890 election. It had the additional benefit demonstrating that New England would not take completion of the Saint Lawrence Causeway by Quebec lying down.
   The Suffrage Act of 1892 saw the government attempt to give women the right to vote, Butler embarking on a massive public pressure campaign in favor of the legislation alongside notable suffragettes such as Susan B Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. While the bill passed the House of Delegates, it was frozen in the Senate. There were just enough old-fashioned conservative Federalists still in that body to defeat enactment of the law, joining with the Centralists to block the legislation. While Butler responded by having the offending senators expelled from the Federalist Party, it did not change the fact the legislation could not be enacted, still seen by many as too radical for the Confederation.
   If Blaine was an Anglophobe, Butler and the Federalists became Anglophiles by instinct. Having served in the North American War, perhaps no New English politician could have been as credible as him in mending fences with London. The Treaty of Charleston in 1893 saw tariffs between British America and New England greatly reduced, even though it provoked protests from Quebec and Louisiana. Butler was keen to distance himself from the developing political situation in Mexico and saw London as a more reliable partner than the Francophone monarchies, each which seemed on the cusp of some sort of crisis.
   Butler enjoyed growing popularity in 1894, many expecting that he would trounce the Centralists in the 1895 election, but it was not to be. Exhausted by government, he died suddenly in January 1894. The Chairman was genuinely mourned, widespread demonstrations of public grief erupting in Boston, Concord, and Providence. His death left the populist Butlerite movement leaderless at a crucial moment during the buildup to the 1895 elections.

Erie-Oswego Canal, Constructed During Butler's Tenure, 1895
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Roscoe Conkling (1894-1895)
The Footnote Chairmanship (1894-1895)
   Roscoe Conkling, a close ally of Butler, managed to keep the Chairmanship in Federalist hands in the special election of 1894, which coincided with the congressional midterms. He beat Centralist Nelson W. Aldrich, a Blaine acolyte handily, carrying 54.4% of the vote in a low-turnout election. Yet, with only a year in power before the election of 1895, little was expected of the man. His most notable achievement would be the opening of the Erie-Oswego Canal, a project championed by his predecessor.
   Still, the significance of his term could not be overlooked. Conkling exemplified the changing character of New England, having been born in British New York and only becoming a New Englander with the Treaty of Albany. It was notable how little of an issue this proved to be in the 1894 election, many voters likely recognizing the shared English heritage of British North Americans with themselves.

James Blaine (1895-1900)
1895 Election (1895)
   Just under a year after Conkling had been elected, he was ousted in the election of 1895. James Blaine had returned to lead the Centralists once more, arguing that the sole reason for Aldrich's defeat the year prior had been a lack of public awareness of his candidacy. Blaine returned to power by campaigning on a mix of nostalgia for his first stint as Chairman, condemning the corruption of the Bulter-Conkling Administration, and promising a steady hand in such times of foreign peril. The election was nasty. Blaine alleged that Conkling retained an affinity for London, pointing to the Treaty of Charleston as a sign he represented a fifth-column in the Confederation. Meanwhile Conkling and his supporters argued that Blaine was a corrupt tyrant in the mold of Cromwell and would only seek to undermine the foundations of the republic further in his vainglorious quest for a third term. The final result saw Blaine elected with 52% of the vote, turnout increasing substantially from the prior year's vote.
   Yet, despite his victory, Blaine's third term would see little achieved. He was forced to work with a Federalist Congress. While he hoped to take the legislature in the midterms of 1897, this was dashed by the Lowell Scandal, which saw the opposition retain control of both the House of Delegates and the Senate. Domestic scandal and political defections thus saw Blaine become a lame duck rather quick into his third term, there being no question of his renomination by the Centralists in 1900 due to a cratering of public support.

Lowell Scandal (1897)
   Nothing would be so damaging to James Blaine as the Lowell Scandal, which came to prominence in 1897 when the papers of the deceased poet James Russell Lowell were publicly released by his family. Lowell had been a Centralist supporter of Blaine’s but was also a renowned and respective public figure for his numerous poets and essays. In his later years Lowell had become utterly disgusted with the blatant corruption of the Blaine administration, his letters detailing Blaine’s behind-the-scenes maneuvering and cooperation with corporate interests. Direct bribes to Blaine’s allies were detailed, as was his blatant hypocrisy in the 1895 campaign, Blaine condemning Conkling on the campaign trail for the same crimes he currently was committing.
   While there had often been the whiff of corruption around his administration, never before had it been illustrated so starkly to the New England populace. Lowell's writings shocked the political landscape, many in both parties rushing to condemn the corruption of the Chairman. Investigations into Blaine's operatives consumed much of Congress' time in the later years of the decade. Blaine himself remained unimplicated, there being no direct proof of Lowell's accusations, but the man remained politically inert. Younger Centralists, having been forced to set their ambitions aside for Blaine for almost 20 years were keen to abandon him, leaving him an isolated and unpopular political figure in the final years of his term.

George Frisbie Hoar, the Progressive Defector, 1897
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

[Spamage]

Stink of Corruption and Progressive Schism (1897-)
   There was a growing group of New Englanders not content with the status quo. They saw much of the Confederation’s government as hopelessly anachronistic and corrupt. The two existing political parties were deemed too entrenched and complacent in their bases of support.
   Aged delegate and the 1877 Centralist nominee George F Hoar formally left the Centralist Party in 1897, protesting Blaine’s corruption and calling for substantial reforms to the political process. Hoar and several allies formed the Progressive Party, aiming to clean up politics and enact substantial structural reforms to the New England political process.
   The Progressive Party framed the Confederation as held captive between ‘urban ethnic political bosses’ employing immigrant votes on behalf of the Butlerite Federalist Party and ‘rural Yankee aristocrats’ using the anti-democratic legacy of the cobbled together constitution to thwart reform as the Centralist Party. They offered themselves as a third choice, promising to increase participatory democracy but also crush the existing party-boss system that had taken hold of major urban areas. The electoral system was to be modernized, reforming the elections to a more sensible manner instead of Chairman once every 5 years and Congress every 3. Hoar wanted a direct election for senators and nonpartisan redistricting for the House of Delegates. Civil service reform, the establishment of an apolitical central bank, and diplomatic neutrality were all issues championed by the movement as well, people tiring of the North American Alliance as well as hostility towards Britain. While not anti-immigrant, unlike Blaine’s Centralists, the Progressives believed wholeheartedly that the government must encourage total integration of the new arrivals. This meant mandatory English classes and an abandonment of ‘foreign’ habits.
   The Progressive movement was distinct from both political groups. They condemned both ‘Butlerite’ and ‘Yankeedom’ corruption and the spoils system. While these political proposals were dramatic and incited passion, they also had not been put to the test and were savaged by both the Centralists and Federalists. Likewise, Hoar was rather aged, some questioning whether a tired old man could truly take up the mantle of democratic reform.

The 1900 Election (1899-)
   The 1900 election would thus be crucial in determining the future of New England. As had been the case in 1870 and 1885, the Chairmanship would be up for election alongside both Houses of Congress. As to who would win, it was anybody's guess.
   While the defection of Hoar and the Progressive's attracted widespread public attention, their level of support had never been put to the test. Butler's memory remained a potent political force in the Federalist Party, the beloved chairman only having been dead for five years. His populist banner calling for the support of immigrants was picked up by John Francis Fitzgerald, a man whose political rise was just as shocking because of his Irish descent as the policies he proposed. Fitzgerald led a united Federalist Party in seeking to retake total control of the government. The Centralists, meanwhile, doubled-down on their nationalist Yankee appeals with Blaine's corruption hanging in the air. Henry Cabot Lodge, the very embodiment of the Yankee elite, seized control of the party at an emergency convention in 1899, formally distancing the political movement from Blaine and his tenure, seeking to excise all elements of corruption from the Centralist Party. Many could only look on as the vote approached.

Durrani Empire: Dynastic Struggles

Street Scene in Kabul, 1899
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Adbul Shah (1876-1884)
An Expanded Empire (1876-1884)
   The Congress of Copenhagen saw the Durrani Empire handsomely rewarded for Abdul Samad Khan’s attack on French India, his gamble seemingly paying off. While the initial goal of an Islamic North Indian Empire remained elusive, the Aghan sovereign acquired millions of new subjects along the Indus River. Indeed, Durrani population more than quadrupled with the end of hostilities. In an instant the Afghans had proven that colonial domination was not inevitable, though the expansion of the Durrani Empire would not come without growing pains.
   Abdul Samad Khan declared himself a Shah during the victory celebrations in 1876, elevating himself to a higher level of rulership. This was both a statement of fact, given the Durrani state was now one of the most populous countries in the world, as well as a necessity, removing him from a more provincial title and emphasizing his role as leader to all of his subjects, not just the Pashtun. Russia, Iran, Portugal, and China were all quick to recognize the sovereign’s new role, eager to enhance relations with Kabul.  
   The annexation had substantial effects on the nature of the Durrani state and the internal balance of power. Filled with gratitude for their service, the Shah’s first goal was to reward the Turkish soldiers in the Legion of Alp Arslan that had aided his cause. Despite the peace, the Ottoman veterans of the Indian campaign overwhelmingly decided to remain in the along the Indus River and settle down. For most, the promise of estates and ample compensation seemed far more attractive than returning home to a battered Anatolia. The Turkish Durrani would be one of the regime’s pillars of strength in the coming years, Kabul relying on their innate loyalty to keep order. Indeed, they emerged primarily as a landholding and administrative class in the newly acquired territories. Many Turks took local wives and married their children to their peers, forming a new social class in the empire. Their ample military experience would be crucial in forging modern armed forces in the coming years.
   Beyond the Turks, the annexation of so much territory brought the Punjabi, Sindhi, Gujarati, and Baloch people primarily under the domination of the Pashtun Durrani. They joined the Hazera and Uzbek that were already subjects under the dynasty. In addition to elevating himself as Shah, Abdul sought to use shared religious heritage to supersede ethnic divisions, trying to use Sunni Islam to bind his subjects together. While this did prove successful, particularly with the Sindhi, it alienated the Hindu and Sikh minorities in his territories. Beyond this, there was a good-faith effort by Abdul Shah to keep the Loya Jirga intact, even with the end of hostilities. The body welcomed representatives of the new subjects into its ranks, becoming a sort of informal advisory body for the Shah, a major development in internal Durrani affairs.
   The Durrani economy was hampered by an informal French embargo following the Congress of Copenhagen. Charlotte deplored the Afghans, who she viewed as treacherous given their assault on India, and was loathe to give them any sort of economic boost. While the port of Karachi did provide the Durrani a window into the wider world, the Afghans generally depended on foreign vessels to conduct trade, lacking a merchant marine of their own. In the absence of commerce with French India, Iran and Russia emerged as primary trade partners, but neither could make up for the volume of lost Indian trade given the unreliability and difficulty of the overland trade routes. While there was talk of establishing a Kabul-Tehran rail line in the 1890s, little came of this due to domestic instability. The Durrani, through the Port and Rail Company, generally contended themselves with maintaining the railways in India that had been inherited from France. While the completion of the Kabul-Kandahar railway marked a major achievement in 1882, it proved to be the last major project before the war.
   Diplomatically, Kabul was placed in an awkward position as Russian-Qajar relations began to sour in the 1880s. Having been close to both realms and relied on both of their aid in the past struggle with France, the government was hesitant to alienate either of its old partners. Instead, the regime pivoted to emphasizing its role as the resister of colonization, cultivating close ties with realms in a similar position as itself. Mysore, Aceh, Siam, and Oman all emerged as loose diplomatic partners of the Durrani government, focusing on increasing economic ties and reducing reliance on western interlopers.
   Abdul Shah died on June 10th, 1884 after a reign of more than twenty years. His tenure had seen the empire greatly expanded and foreign contacts allowing for the opening of the realm to the wider world. While there were still some hurdles, as would soon become clear following his passing, he ultimately was a force for stability and modernization in a realm that sorely needed it. He was widely mourned among both his new and old subjects. His reign would only increase in standing when compared to those of his successors.

Abdul I Shah in his later years, 1883
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Timur II Shah (1884-1887)
Time of Troubles (1884-1887)
   Timur II proved to be one of the unluckiest rulers in the history of the dynasty. He had the misfortune to come to power just as the issues underlying his father’s reign were coming to the forefront. Whatever the changes his father had made, the realm still remained a tribal monarchy, with all of the intradynastic feuding that entailed. Timur lacked both his Abdul’s authority and gravitas to keep his relatives in line, the result slowly undermining his rule as male relatives sensed his weakness and began to vie for power. While he had more means at his disposal to suppress dissent than any other past Durrani sovereign, he proved ham-fisted in his application of them, going far enough to anger relatives but not enough to bring them back into line.
   Timur II was far more cosmopolitan than either Abdul I or most of the court in Kabul. He had served in the armed forces during the invasion of India and the conflict had given him a respect for the European colonial powers. Whereas his father tried to synchronize westernization with traditional Afghan values, Timur II instead sought a wholesale reformation of the realm. He hoped to build a centralized Durrani Empire, sweeping away tribalism and irrationalism. Building on his Abdul I’s expansion of rural madrassas, the government now sought to pivot from educating the populace in literacy of their native language to encouraging Pashtun literacy in a means of creating easier communication. The University of Kabul, while having had foreign faculty in the past, saw new hires coming exclusively from a foreign background and paid substantially higher wages than their Afghan peers. While these were laudable initiatives, especially in the eyes of the colonial powers, they evoked substantial backlash among the various ethnic groups in the empire.
   The Court of Kabul, meanwhile, welcomed dozens of western diplomats, adventurers, and advisors. Preliminary surveying of the capital was conducted, with the aim of rolling it out through the entire empire. Timur also discussed administrative reform, including the establishment of formal provinces and bureaucracy in the other cities of the empire. Implementation of national taxes was discussed, the revenue to be employed in the expansion of domestic infrastructure and fleet modernization. Local elites and other tribal groups took note of the developments, many vocally questioning the Shah’s judgement in the Loya Jirga. Yet, for all their complaining Timur enjoyed close ties with Moscow and Tehran, many recognizing resistance would only invite intervention and a further weakening of Afghanistan’s independence.

Coup of 1887 and Sack of Kabul (1887)
   The eruption of the Qajar-Ottoman War thus came at a terrible moment for Timur Shah. With both his allies distracted by developments in Anatolia, opponents of the Shah within the dynasty saw their chance. The initial spark was the revolt of the northern Ghilji Pashtun tribe. Ghazni formally raised the flag of revolt on June 4th, 1887, declaring their intent to topple the Shah. Kandahar and Jalalabad followed suit, the revolt rapidly spreading as far east as the Indus River. While there were many Ghilji who sought to place one of their own on the throne, the defection of the Shah’s brother Ahmad gave them a new figurehead. He accompanied a substantial force of defectors from the military on a host marching on the capital.
   Timur sought to prevent the loss of his throne by preparing the city for a siege. Yet, recognizing the danger, the Shah also sent his family west to Herat, closer to tribal Durrani land. He attempted to use to Loya Jirga to calm the situation, but the body proved inert, many representatives adopting a wait-and-see attitude to political developments. When the Ghiliji army appeared outside of the city in August, the city erupted into chaos. Rather than waiting for a siege, Abdul ordered a direct assault. The move worked, defenses collapsing rapidly as the invaders entered Kabul. Yet, despite his role as leader, early warning signs emerged for Abdul when he was unable to restrain his allies, who sacked the city in medieval fashion.
   Timur holed up in the palace with his loyal Imperial Guard, but the force was soon overwhelmed. He was slain, victim to a stray bullet in the onslaught. Yet, the bloodshed did not stop there. The Coup of 1887 was accompanied by a massacre of the Shah’s foreign advisors, dozens of foreigners executed for “corrupting the Afghan state”. Professors were dragged from their offices in the University of Kabul, facing summary execution. Nor were diplomats necessarily spared, the ambassadors of the Habsburg Monarchy, Portugal, and New Holland all perishing in the chaos.


Ahmad II Shah (1887-1891)
The Unraveling Tapestry (1887-1891)
   With the Sack of Kabul, Ahmad became Ahmad II Shah, but at a heavy price. Kabul was so devastated, he relocated the capital to Jalalabad, summoning the Loya Jirga to reassemble there. Ahmad proclaimed a return to the old ways in the empire. While not denouncing his father’s reforms, he vowed that his reign would see no further experimentation.
   Yet, the empire did not rally to his cause. While Timur II had been unpopular, his opponents had very different interests. Furthermore, many were shocked by the brutality inflicted on Kabul. The Turkish Durrani in the newly annexed territories declared their allegiance to the slain Shah, vowing to champion the cause of Timur II’s eldest son Abdul, who was a mere 16-years-old. While Abdul thus established a skeleton court in far-off Herat, the Durrani heartland instead rallied around Timur II and Ahmad II’s younger brother Shuja, who was deemed of a more appropriate age. The Sikhs, Hazara, and Uzbek all launched revolts against the regime with demands for autonomy or outright independence. The Baluch likewise declared their independence, but refrained from formal military operations against the other factions.
   The foreign powers were aghast at the murder of their representatives and citizens. Portugal and Austria organized a blockade of the coast, simultaneously launching occupation expeditions of Karachi, Bharuch, and Gwadar, cutting the empire off from foreign trade. Russia likewise bolstered its military presence on the frontier, aiming to secure the border and prevent the unrest from spreading north.
   In an instant the empire that had been the terror of India seemed to be collapsing in on itself. Many foreign observers assumed the internal feuding would spell the end of the Durrani state, given the growing list of factions vying for control. Clashes through 1888 were largely inconclusive. While Shuja sought to defeat his nephew by besieging Herat, he was forced to call off military operations due to Hazara raids in his own territories. Ahmad II, meanwhile, focused on the populated Indus River region. The Punjabi were brought to heel with the Battle of Lahore on May 5th, 1888, though a push south into the Sindhi and Turkish territory was avoided for the time being.
   The Hazara were defeated 1889 by Shuja, who launched brutal raids into their territory until they capitulated. He also conquered Kanadahar, a move that greatly destabilized the position of Ahmad II, the path to Jalalabad and Kabul seemingly clear. Yet, the march north by the Durrani host proved treacherous, the local Ghilji population aiding a guerilla resistance against the invaders. Shuja wintered at Ghazni, deep in rival territory.
   The two brothers, sons of the beloved Abdul I, faced off at the Battle of Sorubi on April 7th, 1890. In a sign that, whatever both sides’ appeals to traditionalism, the realm had greatly changed, many noted the extensive use of modern firearms by the combatants. Shuja emerged victorious, Ahmad II fleeing the region into India, ceding his capitol of Jalalabad to his brother. He set up court in Lahore, though it was clear his position was deteriorating rapidly. Ahmad II was found dead in his chambers in early 1891, either from suicide or foul play. While his forces continued to resist, raising up his son Shahpur as their claimant, the tide remained against them.

Shuja II and his supporters, 1892
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Shuja II Shah (1891-1893)
The Short Reign (1891-1893)
   Shuja II, as he became known following the flight of his brother into India, thus secured the strongest position in the realm. He held the Durrani homeland in the south, control of the Hazara, most of the land west of the Indus. Yet, still the war continued. The Uzbek refused calls to surrender. Ahmad II’s armies still held Lahore and much of Northern India. Young Abdul remained in control of far-off Herat, while also enjoying the nominal loyalty of the Turks and Gujarati. The Balochs obstinately insisted on their independence and foreign powers retained control of the ports.
   Unlike his two brothers, Timur II and Ahmad II, Shuja II had little ideological motivation. His was a quest for power, not a struggle for modernization or a fight for Afghan traditionalism. While this gave him flexibility in his dealings with the various factions, it also fostered cynicism about his goals. His overtures to Paris proved to be a bridge too far for many potential supporters, quickly weakening his cause.

[Spamage]

Foreign Intervention (1892-1893)
   For much of the world the Durrani Civil War was a sideshow. It was distant from most powers and overshadowed by larger conflicts further west. Yet, this began to change in the early 1890s. Shuja II was desperate to maintain his control, doing the unthinkable by reaching out to Versailles for aid, coordinating with the French to defeat his nephew Shahpur and his allies holed up in Punjab. While Louis XIX was preoccupied with establishing his domestic absolutism, he did send caches of weapons and military advisors to Jalalabad. It was hoped by many French Indian officials that the establishment of a stable, friendly Durrani sovereign would see that realm brought into French orbit. Perhaps, it was even speculated, some of Northwestern French India could even be easily regained without firing a single shot.
   The foreign aid did help Shuja, who captured Lahore in mid-1892 and imprisoned Shapur, but also seriously undermined his position among many tribal leaders. The French were still a hated foe and the war cries of Abdul I in the 1870s decrying Christian colonialism still rung in the ears of the leadership. To go out of his way to cooperate with one of the realm’s staunchest opponents was seen as disgraceful, especially by many of the Durrani tribal leaders.
   French involvement naturally invited other powers into the fray. While the Qajar were too weak to intervene themselves in the aftermath of their war with the Turks, the Russians were happy to step in, backing Abdul Mirza, son of the slain Timur II. Chicherin sent far more aid than Louis XIX had, even if it came in a time of dire financial crisis, recognizing the danger a French-aligned Durrani Empire could pose to Russia’s standing in Central Asia. Russian expeditionary forces subdued the Uzbek to the north and opened up tacit supply lines to Abdul in Herat.
   Abdul II’s position improved rapidly with the arrival of Russian aid. He went from the son of the despised Timur II operating on the edge of the realm to a key power player almost overnight. Despite being the son of a progressive modernizer, many former loyalists to Ahmad II backed him as well, still nursing a grudge against Shuja. The victory of Abdul’s forces at the Battle of Chagcharan in late 1892 saw much of southern Afghanistan flip to his control. Notable was the defection of many of Shuja’s former allies, the numbers only increasing after Abdul promised a pardon to any who joined his ranks. The Turks, meanwhile, harassed Shuja’s positions in India proper, forcing the Shah back into the mountains.
   Shuja’s position was untenable and the writing was on the wall. He was assassinated in the streets of Jalalabad in early 1893, most members of his court willing to look the other way. Six years of dynastic infighting had seemingly been for nothing, the son of Timur II taking back his father’s throne after a brief interlude.

Abdul II's March into Jalalabad, 1893
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Abdul II Shah (1893-)
Restoring Order (1893-1894)
   Abdul II arrived in Jalalabad just weeks after the assassination of his uncle and the collapse of formal resistance to his rule. Many domestic opponents would later allege that he had been hoisted upon the Durrani by Russian bayonets, but this overlooks his sizable support of subjects fed up with the incessant fighting. By 1893 many had tired of the disorder. Whatever their aims, the populace of the Durrani Empire generally recognized that life had been far better during the reign of Abdul I during the 1870s and 1880s than it had been during the Civil War. Thus, most rallied to the side of young Abdul II, bolstered by his calls for cultural tolerance within the realm. Here was a chance for respite.  
   The final military clashes of the war occurred in the south, the Balochs being brought back into the fold throughout the remainder of 1893 and early 1894. The arrival of the Durrani forces outside the ports of Karachi and Gwadar was pressure enough on the occupying Europeans, the Austrian and Portuguese forces evacuating the cities in exchange for restored diplomatic relations and lowered tariffs. Sovereignty had been restored, now the work of government remained.
    Abdul emphasized his relationship with his grandfather, rather than father, in the hopes that the empire could be restored to the greatness and stability of the 1870s. His early tenure was aimed at reconciliation, welcoming members of both of his slain uncles’ courts into his own. The Loya Jirga was reconvened in the ruined city of Kabul in early 1894, the Shah vowing that the city would be reconstructed. Many of his father’s most controversial proposals, including the imposition of the Pashtun language throughout the realm, were rolled back.
  
The Survivor (1894-)
   The Shah proved to be adept at navigating the aftermath of the Durrani Civil War. Many marveled at the speed at which the empire recovered, having seemed totally shattered just several years prior. A new Kabul blossomed from the rubble of the old, the Shah formally restoring the city as full capital in 1897. Indeed, many noted how the remodeled city boasted workshops and a more rational layout. Coal mines and extraction were encouraged in the north, the skeletal railway network expanding in earnest in that direction.
   The fighting had also emphasized the importance of a large and loyal armed force to Abdul II, who restored the Durrani Army that had so ignominiously dissolved during the last days of his father’s rule. His dominant position was used to push through initial reforms to the command structure and training of the common soldiers. Clearly, he hoped to prevent any more challenges to his monopoly on force within his lands.
   Yet, tensions still lingered under the surface at the turn of the century. Blood feuds remained very much alive in the minds of many who had lost loved ones during the war, peace only maintained by the strength of the Shah. Questions over the degree of westernization still stood unanswered. The empire’s diplomatic position hung in the balance as well, given uncertainty over developments in Russia, France, and Iran.

Abdul II Shah, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

New Holland: The Provinces Down Under

Streets of Willemstad, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Pieter Mijer (1876-1881)
Perilous Diplomacy and Diplomatic Triumph (1876-1881)
   In 1876 New Holland remained on a war footing. While the United Provinces joined with the rest of the Singapore Pact in making peace with the Japanese through the Treaty of Taipei, Pieter Mijer shocked his former allies by immediately pivoting to an attack on Korea’s overseas holdings. While Colombia and the Philippines both damned Willemstad for its treachery, neither power came to the outright defense of their Korean allies, consumed as they were with stabilizing their own gains from Japan. New Hollander troops were unable to secure Singapore due to the Habsburg expedition, but they did secure a sizable foothold on Malaya and would eventually win control of most of that region.
   The United Provinces remained in a technical state of war with the Joseon state for the next few years, though there were little engagements after the initial collapse of the Korean colonial empire in the East Indies. Likewise, peace with London remained elusive, the two powers continuing their truce from years earlier. While Mijer’s Conservative Party had retained its majority in the elections of 1878, it was clear by 1880 that the electorate wanted peace. Pieter Mijer thus proved to be an eager participant in the Congress of Copenhagen, travelling to Denmark in person in order to adequately represent the interests of the United Provinces.
   The Stadtholder’s trip overseas proved to be a victory lap, of sorts. Mijer represented a growing regional power, one which had flexed its strength against far larger powers and survived. He was feted in Vienna by Charles VIII, toured Naples in the company of Philip V, and dined with Queen Catherine in Stockholm. All the while, he negotiated continued commerce and opened numerous consulates in important port cities. When he arrived in Copenhagen for the diplomatic summit, he found his young republic handsomely rewarded. Willemstad’s steady gains over the decade, often achieved by subterfuge and questionable diplomatic practices, were confirmed. Spurned powers, such as far-off France, were prevented from seeking revenge by the peace conference, reaffirming Hollander gains in Sumatra and Borneo.
   Mijer had won a massive empire for the United Provinces. His return to Willemstad in May 1881 was accompanied by a tremendous outpouring of public celebration. In dramatic fashion he declared a new era for the United Provinces, one that would see New Holland surpass the former glory of the Netherlands. Yet, he would not live to rule it, dying suddenly of cholera caught during his sojourn on June 5th, 1881.

Pieter Mijer in his last year as Stadtholder, 1881
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Frederik s'Jacob (1881-1883)
A Muddled Term (1881-1883)
   The nation genuinely mourned Mijer following his death, but the work of government continued. During the absence of the Stadtholder, Frederik s’Jacob had served as the acting leader of New Holland and was thus the man the States General turned to after Mijer’s death. Widely respected, it was hoped he could continue his predecessor’s successes.
   From the start, s’Jacob’s government was forced to make unpopular decisions. While Hollander conquest of the East Indies had been confirmed by the Congress of Copenhagen, there remained substantial resistance among portions of the native Indonesians. Ever since the collapse of Japanese and Korean rule, low-level guerillas had operated in central Sulawesi and Borneo, enjoying the sympathy of the local population. With the return of peace, Hollander authorities were determined to restore order. The result was ofttimes brutal warfare by both sides. Rebels torched fields of cash crops, indiscriminately killing workers seen to be collaborators, while Hollander battalions employed torture and murder to ensure obedience in outlying villages. S’Jacob proved to be a stalwart proponent of brutality, believing fear would be the only means of keeping the new subjects in line. Yet, as young Dutch men continued to die despite the ostensible return of peace to the United Provinces, some at home questioned his methods. While his tenure did see the gradual eradication of the rebel movements, it came at a heavy cost, both economically and politically.
   The government was ultimately done in by the Tegal Affair, which initiated when a series of newspapers in Willemstad revealed that subordinates of s’Jacob had engaged in corrupt business practices shortly after he succeeded Mijer as Stadtholder, specifically centered on operations in the city of Tegal. Working with a network of wealthy Hollander capitalists, s’Jacob’s personal secretary had arranged for government contracts for his donors in exchange for direct bribes. The illicit payments had been hidden from public view through an elaborate network of fake companies and through disbursements among close allies.
   While reporting on the Tegal Affair could not conclusively prove s’Jacob’s guilt, and the Stadtholder professed ignorance of his staff’s actions, the scandal tarnished the conservatives heading into the 1883 elections. Coupled with fatigue over continued military operations in the East Indies, the result spelled disaster for their electoral prospects. The liberals dominated in the vote, sweeping out the conservative majority that had been in office since the late 1860s. Just years on from Mijer’s death, his party was to be out of power.

Samuel van Houten during his first term, 1883
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Samuel van Houten (1883-1888)
The Liberal Triumph (1883-1885)
   The 1883 elections saw the conservatives swept from power for the first time in more than a decade, the liberals benefitting from backlash to s’Jacob.  Samuel van Houten, a recent arrival from the Netherlands who had quickly made a name for himself in Hollander politics, was chosen to be the next Stadtholder.
   The Liberal tenure proved to be a time of reform. Eager to remove the stench of corruption, civil service reform was enacted early in van Houten’s term, preventing preferential hiring and the spoils system. Guardrails against corruption like s’Jacob’s were enacted through the creation of government committees to approve contracts and spending. The judicial system was expanded, local magistrates given far more encouragement to tackle local corruption and petty crime. There were talks of wholesale constitutional reform, though these remained abstract for the time being.
   Van Houten also attempted to reorganize the East Indies in 1885, redrawing the existing administrative systems inherited from both the Dutch East India Company and Korean colonization, but the proposal was defeated in the States General in 1885 despite his majority. He was opposed by big business within his own party, the Javanese elites, and the conservatives in a rare embarrassment. Forced to shelve his reform, van Houten would spend the remainder of his term focused on more incremental efforts.

The Commercial Republic (1883-1888)
   New Holland ensured the survival of the Dutch commercial tradition by establishing itself as a major Asian mercantile power throughout the end of the nineteenth century. There would be two economic pillars that emerged in the United Provinces throughout the late nineteenth century. The East Indies was  an extraction hub, supplying cash crops to distant Europe, while New Holland proper became the industrial base of the republic. Under van Houten’s leadership, the economy exploded throughout the 1880s, both sectors growing at a rapid clip.
   The East Indies were employed in the production and extraction of valuable cash crops, port cities such as Batavia seeing to it that raw materials were shipped as far afield as Russia or the Habsburg Monarchy. These profitable developments increased the wealth of the Hollander shareholders, who operated the shipping companies, as well as the Javanese elites, who often held title to the lands on which the crops were produced. Working conditions were less than ideal however, the native Javanese and Sumatrans forced to work long hours in perilous conditions for little pay.
   The strength of the Hollander mercantile tradition was augmented by the numerous tariff-lowering treaties that had been agreed during Mijer’s administration, the result being that Hollander rubber, coffee, sugar, and cacao would be cheaper than foreign competitors. No power was as annoyed by this as Brazil, who would itself undercut in many foreign markets by the rapacious Hollanders. Thus, New Holland became loosely involved in the European schism. While Brazil supplied France with many raw materials produced in tropical climates, New Holland took over that role for both Russia and the Habsburg Monarchy.
   The second sector of the Hollander economy was the production of finished goods in New Holland proper, which were then sent to the East Indies, Siam, Vietnam, and other ‘local’ powers. Nascent industrialization in Willemstad was boosted by the arrival of Dutch immigrants in the aftermath of French repression in Europe. They brought with them extensive knowledge and skills that only served to further Hollander manufacturing. By virtue of their proximity to the massive Asian markets, Hollander goods were likewise cheaper than many of their European competitors. As in the East Indies, the factory workers in New Holland ofttimes operated in very dangerous conditions, though the liberal government did make several attempts to enshrine basic industrial worker protections into law, conspicuously ignoring those working in the agricultural sector.

Javan Field Workers, 1880s
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The New New Hollanders (1885-1895)
   As Louis XIX began to suppress political rights in the Netherlands further in the 1880s, the number of Dutch immigrants to New Holland swelled. These arrivals sought the protection of their cousins across the sea, hoping to find a home where they would be persecuted for their faith, language, and culture. Van Houten, himself a Dutch immigrant, was all too happy to welcome them to their new home, fully loosening immigration rules for arrivals from the old country. The population of New Holland proper swelled from 1.6 million in 1876 to 4.1 million by 1900.
   This influx of immigrants and their rapid assimilation into life in New Holland completely changed the political landscape in the United Provinces. The Dutch Hollanders (as they confusingly were known) detested France and incessantly advocated for the restoration of the Netherlands in Europe. Some even believed that the government of New Holland ought to be the vehicle that achieved this. These Dutch were far less loyal to republican ideals, having spent most of their lives under monarchical rule. There were many who believed that the House of Orange ought to relocate to Willemstad from Scandinavia and restore the Dutch Monarchy in New Holland. Indeed, the Orangist Party was reborn in New Holland during the early 1890s, though it would only enjoy limited electoral success. Instead, many of the arrivals gravitated to the existing nationalist faction.
   Fixated on European affairs, the new arrivals also cared little for the indigenous people of the East Indies, often looking down on them as backwards colonial subjects best ignored. This did stall the progress made under Mijer’s term aimed at bringing the Javanese into the political fold. While the Javan elites retained their right to vote and many civil service positions in the East Indies remained staffed by the local populace, the prospect of further reform was shelved by an increasingly selfish New Hollander electorate that could easily outvote the East Indies thanks to existing suffrage rules.

New New Hollanders, 1880s
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Panic of 1888 Heads South (1888)
   With such extensive economic and trade ties with Russia and the Habsburg Monarchy, not to mention its historic advancements of loans to said powers, New Holland found itself embroiled in the far-off Panic of 1888 and its aftermath. Pieter Mijer and Samuel van Houten had both championed the financial sector of the United Provinces, but their tenures had left the republic vulnerable.
   Hollander markets were jolted by news from Russia and the continued economic unease in that economy. As Russia’s economy slowed and firms there laid off employees, the effects were felt further up the supply chain, prices for New Hollander goods falling due to a lack of demand. The Habsburg trade bloc’s decision to raise tariffs in order to protect their economy only served to further destabilize the Hollander economy. Van Houten could only look on in horror as firms began to lay off workers. Coupled as it was with the tremendous flow of arrivals, the potent mix meant that there was many people looking for work but unable to find it. While total financial collapse was averted, thanks to the presence of robust consumer markets in the region, the effect on the economy, particularly in the East Indies, was notable.

 

[Spamage]

J. B. van Heutsz (1888-1898)
Conservative Reestablishment (1888-1893)
   With the Panic of 1888, many in New Holland felt that they had been betrayed by both the conservatives and the liberals over the past several decades. Coupled with the influx of Dutch arrivals, the result was a potent mix of resentment, economic malaise, and nationalism that led to a surge in favor of the nationalist Party of Order (Partij van de Orde, PVDO). J. B. van Heutsz, a fiery right-wing war hero won a plurality of seats in the States General in the 1888 election, in a shock to the Hollander political establishment. Notable in the election was the simultaneous success of the socialists, who themselves managed to outperform even the conservatives.
   Heutsz, lacking a majority of his own, was forced to make a coalition with the weakened conservatives, now led by Jan Heemskerk. With their backing he officially secured the Stadtholdership on November 30th, 1888. He was prevented from pursuing some of his more questionable goals by the conservatives, such as welcoming the exiled House of Orange, but the union would last through its allotted five years.
   The new Stadtholder combatted the employment crisis by embarking on a massive set of public works projects. The rail line between Willemstad and New Haarlem (Port Lincoln) was expanded into a two-track line, electrical networks were expanded outside of the major cities, and massive mineral extraction operations were organized in the countryside. Little was done for the East Indies however, Heutsz reaching an agreement with the Javanese nobility for noninterference in local affairs in return for their support of his government.
   Heutsz also embarked on a buildup of the Hollander fleet, intending to make it clear to foreign observers that the United Provinces would continue to dominate the region. Likewise, the government invested heavily in modernizing the army. There were several border clashes with both France and Britain during this period, though little ultimately came of these.

The Corrupt Bargain (1893)
   The 1893 election proved to be the biggest test yet of the Hollander political system. Despite his best efforts, Heutsz’s spending and public works programs had been unable to outpace economic difficulties. Increasingly frustrated, many voters turned to the left for answers. As a result, the Socialist Worker’s Party of New Holland (SANH) won a plurality of seats, though not a majority.
   The SANH victory was even more shocking considering they were led by Ferdinand Domela Nieuwenhuis, the former leader of the short-lived Dutch Socialist Republic in 1875. France, seeking to destabilize van Heutsz’s nationalist and sabre-rattling government, was all too happy to release the subversive Nieuwenhuis into New Holland in 1892, keeping him well away from the Netherlands proper. While Nieuwenhuis was weak after more than a decade in French custody, he had not lost his ideals. His commitment to the socialist cause only served to increase the aura around him. Local socialist figures had quickly deferred to their idol, even though Nieuwenhuis himself seemed a bit reluctant to take control of the New Hollander socialist cause.
   Yet, J.B. van Heutsz was not willing to surrender without scheming. Though the socialists had won a plurality, there was no clear partner for them to achieve a majority aside from the liberals. For all his appeal to leftists, much of the rest of the body politique saw Nieuwenhuis as a dangerous radical. Van Heutsz exploited this. After intense negotiations with van Houten and the Liberal Party and Heemskerk’s Conservatives, a grand coalition to keep the socialists out of government was agreed.
   Nieuwenhuis and his supporters could only look on in outrage as the ‘Corrupt Bargain’ went through the States General. Van Heutsz was reconfirmed as stadtholder in late 1893, many SANH delegates boycotting the ceremony in protest. To the establishment, the nationalist cause was seen as a more reliable partner than the socialists. Many elites feared Nieuwenhuis would embark on social reform in the East Indies and wreck the cash cow of the Hollander economy. Likewise, it was feared that his government would force through expensive economic measures that would kneecap industry in New Holland proper. The Corrupt Bargain led to widespread strikes in the working-class areas of New Holland, but these protests were met with brutal suppression and seemed to confirm the elites in their decision to freeze out the left from governance. By early 1894 the republic had largely restabilized, people resigning themselves to 4 more years under van Heutsz.

J.B. van Heutsz as Stadtholder, 1892
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

A Government for Nothing (1893-1898)
   Van Heutsz had succeeded in preventing the socialist ascendancy, but the result was a government that consisted of such a broad coalition that it was essentially deadlocked. To some extent he was overshadowed my his own ministers, former stadtholder van Houten one of his cabinet members. His second term as saw very little achieved legislatively. His popularity gradually began to ebb, van Heutsz leaving office in 1898 with the lowest approval rating up until that point in time, his own party distancing itself from him after he resigned as leader in 1896.
  In the absence of domestic political accomplishments, van Heutsz instead turned to diplomacy. The United Provinces of New Holland had been somewhat of a regional pariah by the end of the nineteenth century. Britain and Colombia were both alienated by the erratic diplomatic actions of Willemstad during the 1870s. Quebec viewed the New Hollanders as a rival for influence in the Pacific, while France and Japan resented the loss of their colonial territories to the United Provinces.
   Seeking to reestablish at least a working relationship with London, Willemstad used intermediaries within the Habsburg Monarchy to negotiate a diplomatic summit with the British in 1894. George IV, far more peaceable than his father, was receptive and the two powers ultimately signed the Treaty of Auckland, restoring diplomatic and commercial ties while also confirming the borders established with the Congress of Copenhagen. Ties with Quebec were smoothed over to some extent as well with the Treaty of Honolulu, both powers recognizing their respective spheres of influence in the region.

Samuel van Houten (1898-)
1898 Election (1898-1900)
   As campaigning resumed once again in the leadup to the 1898 election, New Holland remained as divided as it had been five years earlier. Yet, there still were notable political shifts. In part due to exhaustion with van Heutsz, the PVDO experienced sizable losses, their seats generally being won by the conservatives. It was the liberals, however, who would emerge as kingmaker. They won a narrow plurality of seats in a close three-way contest alongside the conservatives and socialists. Samuel van Houten found himself restored to the premier position in the republic after more than a decade out of office. Many were surprised, having long since discounted the old politician as a has-been.
   Van Houten had the luxury of being courted by all sides. The socialists were fully willing to partner in a coalition, hoping to shed their status as a political pariah and enact meaningful change for their voters. The conservatives too sought to ally with their onetime foes, noting that the two mainstream parties now had far more in common than either on the extremes. While van Houten ultimately chose the conservatives as his partners, there would be more than a few Hollanders who speculated that this could change throughout his term if the stadtholder proved insistent on his promised reforms to suffrage and social rights.

Students at the University of Java, 1890s
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Awakening of the People (1893-1900)
   Problematic for the New Hollander establishment throughout the 1890s would be an upsurge in national consciousness among certain portions of society. Willemstad had long allowed the wealthy and influential Javanese a right to vote so long as they held extensive tracts of land, slowly integrating them into the leadership structure. Yet, by integrating the existing elites into the government, this also had the effect of maintaining existing pre-colonial social order. Far from the oversight of Hollander administrators, the common people were often exploited, pockets of slavery still in existence as late as 1900. Many in the lower rungs of society were beginning to agitate for change, especially given the spread of literacy and political thought as a result of the expansion of the school system initiated in the 1870s. People were not blind to the profits achieved during the 1870s and 1880s, the conspicuous wealth of the elites only serving to further increase resentment. Calls for social reform, tepid at first, began to increase in volume by the turn of the century.
   The University of Java increasingly became a center of radical thought, allowed to operate because of the government’s demonstrated tolerance of free speech. Nieuwenhuis’ socialism proved to be an attractive cause for many Indonesians, eager to see the political system reformed on more equitable lines. Many students sought to organize unions for their families that worked in manual professions. While these attempts were often met with brutality, further alienating the locals from the government, they demonstrated the growing consciousness among the population.
   While some agitated merely for the breaking down of barriers within the existing United Provinces, there were other Javanese who advocated for a wholesale divorce between New Holland and the East Indies. Naturally, this was a nonstarter for all of the members of the States General, regardless of party and even Nieuwenhuis was forced to publicly commit to the continuation of the United Provinces in the leadup to the 1898 election.
   Nor were challenges for reform directed solely at the Hollanders. Figures such as Kartini emerged, demanding greater protections for women and an end to traditional practices such as the isolation of females. This added a whole new dimension to the Javanese national awakening, as it challenged existing religious beliefs and cultural practices.

Colombia: The Great Thawing

Bogota in the 1890s
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Vicente Arbeláez Gómez (1876-1884)
The Unexpected Empire (1876-1884)
    To many observers, Colombian success on the global stage through the 1870s and 1880s seemingly came from nowhere. Since independence, the region had generally taken on a secondary role in the shadow of other powers. After all, it was a Quebecois prince who had briefly been chosen to lead the state during the revolution and, following independence, the Catholic-Republican establishment had deferred to Brazil on most matters. That changed under Vicente Arbeláez. In addition to the destruction of the rickety Spanish Empire in the early 1870s, the Archbishop-President also oversaw the genesis of a new Colombian colonial empire through conquest across the sea. By 1876, most powers recognized Colombia as a player in global power politics in its own right.
   The Treaty of Taipei saw Colombian influence greatly extended across the Pacific at the expense of Japan. The Philippines became a loyal sister republic to the government in Bogota and would prove to be an enduring ally in the coming years. Colombia herself, meanwhile, was confirmed in her gains in Samoa, Polynesia, and New Guinea. The integration of these regions gave the South American republic a clear trade route to lucrative markets in Asia.
   While Colombia publicly deplored the Hollander betrayal of Korea, it did not intervene on the side of its former Singapore Pact Ally, essentially leaving them to their fate. In fact, Colombian Malaya and the Sunwon Islands were seized under the guise of ‘protecting’ the Korean authorities. This meant that the Holy Republic was technically at peace during the start of the Congress of Copenhagen, which merely saw it confirmed in its gains over the past several decades.

The Colombian Thaw (1878-1884)
   At home, the winds of change were blowing strong. The promulgation of the Constitution of 1872 had represented a critical moment in the development of the Holy Republic. Unlike its fellow Catholic Republican states, Colombia determined that liberalization was the best path forward. Many had applauded the elections of 1874 as a turning point, though the real test came four years later with the second open elections in the Holy Republic. The first campaign had been a novelty, the political culture of the country somewhat undeveloped. In such circumstances it was not surprising that the moderate Catholic Republicans had triumphed, given most recognized them as the de facto incumbents. After one term though, clear differences had emerged and ideological blocs had shifted.
   The 1878 election saw substantial gains for the various secular republican factions, in particular the liberals. Despite their success in passing legislation, the moderate Catholic-Republicans were relegated to second place, incumbent Prime Minister Rafael Núñez himself losing his seat. The conservatives finished in third, while the socialists had collapsed to fourth.
   This repudiation of the incumbents generated great tension, the nation waiting with bated breath to see if the results would be allowed to stand. Yet, to his credit, Núñez openly conceded the election the following morning, promising a smooth transition and wishing the best to his successor. Archbishop-President Arbeláez then invited Manuel Murillo Toro, the leader of the liberals, to form a government. Murillo did so a week later, forming a coalition with the conservatives. This was exceptionally notable as neither party advocated for Catholic-Republicanism, though it had been the unquestioned system of government under a decade prior.
   It seemed the good times would continue. Whatever the critiques of its system, Colombia had allowed for the peaceful transition of power, a signal that democratic rule had taken root. Cynical observers noted that the Catholic-Republicans were so willing to accept the results because the numerous constitutional safeguards meant that their institutional power would not truly be in jeopardy.

Colombian Coffee Plantation, 1880s
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Commercial Revolution (1876-1884)
   The later years under Arbeláez witnessed a period of tremendous economic growth. As early as the 1870s it had become evident that cooperation with Britain was predicated on commercial ties. This meant a substantial influx of foreign capital, British companies seeking to do business with the previously untapped Colombian market. Colombia, after decades of economic restriction under the Catholic Republican command system, was soon inundated with British (and later Scandinavian) firms. Some benefits were soon apparent. Foreign financing helped fund numerous infrastructure projects and boosted the Colombian rail network. Infant industries exploded, Colombia soon developing into a major exporter of coffee, bananas, tobacco, and raw materials. Colombia also emerged as a successful ship-building naval power, in part to protect its colonial empire.
   A secondary boon to the economy during this period would be the continued influx of immigrants from Europe. Thousands of Spaniards, Irish, and Italians relocated to South America, Colombia shedding its pariah-status in the eyes of many prospective settlers. The new arrivals boosted the country’s population to nearly 14 million at the turn of the century and their economic activity further accelerated growth.
   The British capitalism was a double-edged sword however. Many of the infant Colombian firms, only emerging after the state had begun to liberalize, were out-competed by more efficient foreign rivals. This was particularly damaging to the manufacturing industry, which lagged behind some regional peers. Thus, though Colombia experienced rapid economic growth and became a more efficient exporter, this was often accomplished through the use of foreign capital and in concert with other countries. There was a good deal of resentment in some quarters of how many Colombian workers depended on foreign trade rather than domestic economic strength. Both nationalists and socialists would seek to exploit this grievance throughout the later years of the century, hoping to convince the electorate to roll back some of the more ambitious liberal economic reforms.

[Spamage]

Críspulo Uzcátegui Oropeza (1884-1895)
The New Leadership (1884-1886)
   Archbishop-President Vicente Arbeláez Gómez died on April 22nd, 1884, after a term lasting 15 years. His leadership had seen Colombia emerge from the confused period of post-independence and transform into a significant global power. Bogota now was an independent actor, asserting a new ideological school of thought and challenging Brazil for leadership of the Catholic-Republican movement. His shoes would be hard to fill.
   As in Brazil, generational turnover would play a major role in Colombian domestic politics, particularly in the Church. The original hardliners, those that had helped topple Spanish control and killed the infant Hohenzollern monarchy in its crib, were dwindling in number during the 1880s. Unlike in Brazil, however, the replacement generation was far more reformist and committed to the democratization of the system that had taken place under Arbeláez. This “Colombian Consensus” that emerged meant that there was increasingly little desire within the clergy to reassume the kind of direct control over society that had been present prior to the 1870s.
   The clerics converged on Bogota within the month, emerging after just two days of deliberations to announce that Críspulo Uzcátegui Oropeza, the current Archbishop of Caracas, would be the next Archbishop-President. This was significant for two reasons. As the first Venezuelan chosen as the for the role, many saw that the clerical elite was determined to be geographically representative. Bogota was underscoring its status as a broad regional power, not one merely centered on Colombia proper. Secondly, Uzcátegui was a committed reformist and had been a close ally of Arbeláez. Little radical change in Colombia’s direction was expected under his leadership.

Archbishop-President Críspulo Uzcátegui Oropeza, 1886
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Provincial Wars (1886-1893)
   The Constitution of 1872 had confirmed regional autonomy for both Venezuela and Ecuador, Arbeláez hoping to end the disputes over the structure of Colombian governance once and for all. This was not to be. While the leadership of the Holy Republic had believed in federalism and local autonomy in the 1870s, that did not mean their successors adhered to the same principles. In addition to splits over the religious nature of the republic and economic policies, regionalism became another key point of contention in Colombian politics throughout the 1880s.
   While federalism seemed ideal on paper, issues in practice soon became evident. In the absence of a long-term democratic tradition, local governments in Caracas, Quito, and Lima (the Peruvians fully integrated at the end of the 1870s) were soon corrupt. Local political elites manipulated the votes, enjoyed kickbacks, and staffed the administration with loyalists. While the central government in Bogota itself was fairly democratic, especially given the role of the Church in ensuring continued compliance to the constitution, in the outlying provinces local clerics lacked the authority of the Archbishop-President. Bogota soon found itself inundated with complaints from parish priests and bishops in the outlying diocese of intimidation and harassment.
   Uzcátegui himself, given his Venezuelan heritage, was initially a committed federalist, but he found his patience tested by increasingly assertive figures in Caracas, Quito, and Lima. In his opinion, local officials were going too far with their assertions of autonomy. “We cannot survive as a republic if every jurisdiction thinks itself independent,” he argued in an address to the National Assembly in 1885. Likewise, he believed the allegations of corruption undermined the image of both the Holy Republic and the Church. With the backing of Prime Minister and the National Assembly, the government passed a series of laws aimed at curbing local abuse in 1886-1887. Most controversial were the Suspension Act, which called for central oversight of the upcoming local elections in 1890, and the Emergency Act, which increased the presence of the Colombian military in provincial cities.
   Within the provinces many figures pledged resistance, demanding that the central government cease to meddle in their affairs. While most backed down, especially after the Emergency Act saw an increase in the presence of the military in provincial capitals, the most committed opponents of the centralists engaged in armed resistance. Antonio Guzmán Blanco’s fiery speech in the Caracas regional assembly on May 9th, 1887 was a clarion call to action. He denounced Bogota’s suppression of regional autonomy, arguing it was a mere prelude to the restoration of Catholic-Republican authoritarian control. Conveniently, he ignored all the allegations of corruption, including several charges against himself. He joined several thousand committed Venezuelans in an armed guerilla resistance in outlying areas dubbing himself the head of the New Granadan Federalist Army.
   The insurrection in Venezuela was followed by unrest in Peru, Ecuador, and even outlying areas of Colombia. The local authorities played on the innate suspicions many rural settlers had against the central government decades on from authoritarian Catholic-Republuicanism. Meanwhile, the cities often proved to be bastions of centralist control, the army having little issue subduing any resistance. The result was often an inconvenient stalemate. Occasional skirmishes, especially along rail lines, saw casualties on both sides, but most local commanders found themselves frustrated by the intractable nature of the conflict. Any chance of rebel control over major cities evaporated as even committed federalists grew to resent the disruption of supply lines and transportation caused by their ideological allies. Yet, Colombian forces proved ill-equipped to deal with the smaller, more agile rebels who were able to operate freely in the countryside.
   These low-level wars came to dominate Colombian politics during the late 1880s. The Provincial Wars lacked the high casualties or dramatic developments of other conflicts, often meaning they were ignored by most outside observers, but were no less important for the region than a full-blown conflict.
   The provincial wars also helped further sour relations with Brazil. There were many Colombian officials who felt that Brazilian aid was tacitly supplied to the provincial rebels, particularly in Venezuela, prolonging the length of the rebellion. Further evidence emerged in the late 1889, when a raid on Guzman’s camp revealed a substantial cache of Brazilian firearms. While Sao Paolo argued that these weapons had merely been obtained from an illicit trade between both Brazilian and Colombian criminals, very few observers gave this argument much credence.
   After the election of a conservative government in 1890, the situation began to shift in favor of Bogota. The Federalists could hardly argue to be in favor of true democracy when they repeatedly attempted to sabotage voting in that election. Despite their denunciations of the new provincial assemblies chosen in the vote, most citizens wanted to move on after years of inconclusive fighting. Federalist support also gradually began to ebb in the countryside as it was becoming clear that there was no imminent return of Catholic-Republican authoritarianism. These factors were coupled with a far more aggressive policy towards the rebellion adopted by Uzcátegui. The Insurrection and Stability Act of 1891 promised pardons for those that laid down their arms in 1891 but was accompanied by much harsher penalties for those continuing to engage in armed resistance into the next year.
   There were widespread defections from the rebel camp throughout 1891, both Peru and Ecuador stabilized during that year. Antonio Guzmán Blanco, de facto head of the various rebel militias, saw the writing on the wall as his numbers began to dwindle. He fled from the Llanos region by boat in mid-1892 under the cover of darkness, resurfacing several weeks later in Louisianan Cuba, where he would continue his tirades against the Colombian central government from exile. While there would be calls from Bogota for the extradition of such a controversial political figure, Louisiana rebuffed them and affirmed Guzman’s right to free expression.
   With their erstwhile leader in exile and the government closing in, the remaining pockets of resistance faded away by early 1893. They had failed in their goals, which had been muddled to begin with. The ultimate defeat of the Federalists meant that crackdowns against local corruption could resume.

Artwork of Government Soldiers During the Provincial Wars, 1890
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Creeping Parliamentarism (1886-1894)
   Notable during the 1880s and early 1890s was the growing strength of the National Assembly, both the Prime Minister and the legislative body itself taking an increasingly active role in government. Uzcátegui, too focused on the Provincial Wars to worry about less pressing matters, was all too happy to cede some of his overarching control to the democratic body. While the Archbishop-Presidency maintained control of the military and diplomacy, as well as appointment rights for many local positions, the National Assembly asserted itself through the power of the purse, education, and taxation.
   Over time the relationship became less cordial. While 1878 had been the first time without a Catholic-Republican party in government, the liberal-conservative coalition under Murillo had been deferential to the existing elite. For their milquetoast attitude they had been met with defeat in 1882, the moderate Catholic-Republicans reassuming control. This meant the body was fairly pliant to Uzcátegui for the next four years until the 1886 election witnessed a resurgence of the liberals, who elected to govern in a coalition with the socialists this time.
   The liberal-socialist coalition would endure through 1894, its tenure seeing growing calls to further weaken the role of the Church in Colombian politics. While no one advocated for direct election of the Archbishop-President, or the replacement of that role with a secular president, the clerics were challenged by other means. The socialists argued that the National Assembly should have the right to confirm or repudiate the Church’s chosen candidate. There were also talks for secular oversight of the selection and transfer of parish priests. These, naturally, were nonstarters with Uzcátegui and the elites. While they were more than willing to open the political process, they were still committed Catholic-Republicans. The elites were backed by the Vatican, Pope Clement XIV personally condemning the calls for reform and arguing it would dilute the independence of the Catholic Church.

Federico González Suárez (1895-)
The Unchallenged Succession (1894-1895)
   Uzcátegui died on March 17th, 1895, his term having lasted 11 years. His tenure had witnessed the continued liberalization of Colombian politics as well as initiatives to crush local corruption and inefficiencies, triumphing over the most ardent Federalists in the Provincial Wars.
   The bishops converged on Bogota once more, this time choosing the next Archbishop-President on just the second ballot. Federico González Suárez of Ecuador was named as Uzcátegui’s successor. As with his two immediate predecessors, Gonzalez was a member of the reformist camp. During the Provincial Wars he had personally acted as one of the regional lieutenants charged with restoring order in Ecuador.
   The elevation of Gonzalez and the 1894 election, which witnessed a triumphant return of the moderate Catholic Republicans, together seemed to herald a new era of unchallenged Colombian liberal supremacy. Yet, they instead represented the peak of the Colombian Consensus. Just a year after 1895 the radicals would be on the upswing once more, challenging the social order that had taken such a strong hold over the Holy Republic.

Archbishop-President Federico González Suárez, 1897
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Arrival of Reactionary Socialism (1896-1900)
   It was only a matter of time given global developments that the new ideologies infecting France, Mexico, and Brazil would begin to influence politics in Colombia as well. The hardline Catholic Republicans had become greatly demoralized by the late 1890s, repeated defeats having strongly indicated that most of the country was ready to move on from their ideology. Yet, even as it seemed they would fade into the history books, relics of a bygone time, they were revitalized by the arrival of reactionary socialism in Colombia. The novelty and strength of that movement proved too potent to be ignored.
   The Pact of Medellín was signed on August 5th, 1896 between a broad coalition of hardline Catholic extremists, disenchanted socialists, and monarchists (just as marginalized at this point as the hardline Catholic Republicans). This agreement witnessed the formation of the Colombian People’s League (Liga Popular de Colombia, LPC), a new party on the heretofore stagnant political scene.
   The reactionary socialists criticized the established order on several fronts. They claimed the government and Church had both gotten too close to big business and capitalist exploitation, pointing out the explosion of foreign trade and the influx of foreign firms. These arguments were well-received by the poor in Colombian society, particularly those who had found themselves displaced by the arrival of British capital. Fears of social decline were reiterated, arguing that the people of Colombia had lost their way through liberalization. Rather than aligning with France and Brazil, the government had instead embraced heretics in far-off London.
   The extremists benefitted from the decentralized nature of the Colombian system, managing to win seats on local levels and work their way into the government. The elimination of corrupt middlemen in the aftermath of the Provincial Wars left many municipalities vulnerable to their demagogic screeds against the established order. Through the use of mass public rallies, thousands joined their cause. Matters came to a head in the 1898 elections. Unlike other radical movements emerging during this time, the LPC was fairly decentralized and lacked a sole unifying figure, both a benefit and a hindrance at the same time.

Electoral Deadlock (1898-1900)
   The 1898 election proved to be exceptionally challenging for the Holy Republic. The campaign was vicious, personal attacks levied in all directions on a level never before seen in Colombia. Even the Archbishop-President, once an unquestionable figure, found himself lambasted in some corners.
   The LPC seemingly came from nowhere to win a plurality of seats, in part due to the fractured nature of the rest of the political landscape. Indeed, they carried 40% of the seats in the National Assembly despite merely receiving 29% of the vote. Yet, though they had won the largest share, the remaining parties all agreed that it was against their interest to allow them a role in government.  
   The incumbent Catholic-Republicans were second with 26% of seats and 18% of the vote, but aligned with the liberals, conservatives, and mainstream socialists to form a grand coalition aimed at keeping the LPC out of power, given its radicalism and controversy. While they presented this as preserving the Holy Republic, and defending the popular will of the majority of the electorate, the agreement was lambasted in reactionary-socialist circles as a corrupt bargain unfairly ignoring the will of their supporters. There were protests against the grand coalition in several cities, but these ultimately proved unable to prevent the seating of the moderate government in April 1894.
   Yet, despite their success in denying the LPC a seat at the table, the coalition government would be plagued by internal disagreements and a lack of action on any pressing issues. Only the most watered-down compromises were able to escape the legislature in 1898-1900, even then just passing by narrow majorities as various members of the government aligned with the opposition depending on the matters at hand.
   With such an inefficient ministry, there were many who called on the Archbishop-President to take a more authoritative role in government, though certain factions in the Church urged restraint, fearing becoming tainted by unpopular decisions. All eyes looked to Federico González Suárez to see how he would handle Colombia’s domestic political controversy.

Pacific Rivalry & Diplomatic Isolation (1895-1900)
   Despite the liberalization of Colombia, the regime had a difficult time in attracting allies outside of the Holy League. While Britain was a close partner, London was consumed by internal affairs at the turn of the century. To the north, Bogota became increasingly alarmed by developments in Mexico after the rise of the Red King. Quebec, New England, and Louisiana largely ignored Colombia at the behest of Montreal, who viewed the Colombians as a rival for influence in the Pacific. To the south, Colombia faced an openly hostile Brazil and Paraguay, both realms openly voicing their suspicions about Colombian involvement in the growing disorder throughout the Andes. Thus, Colombia found itself in the awkward position of having several allies quite distant geographically.

Louisiana: Maintaining the Balance

Streets of New Orleans, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Henry-Philippe (1876-1897)
Restoring Order (1876-1879)
   The embers of rebellion still lingered in Liberia in 1877, black militias fleeing into the countryside in order to continue their resistance after the 1876 fall of Freetown. Even so, the war was clearly in its final stages. Frederick Douglass was restored as the governor of Liberia in Freetown on January 1st, 1878. His government sought to balance punishment of those who had committed treason with reconciliation for most of the populace. A strong military presence with regular rural patrols sapped the strength of the remaining Liberian rebels in the following year, the last outstanding bands reaching an accommodation with Frederick Douglass in March 1879.
   With the conclusion of hostilities most of the vociferous ringleaders did face punishment. A series of trials gripped the nation in 1878-1879 that saw Shields Green, the head of the Liberian Rebellion, executed on August 22nd, 1879. Many of his lieutenants followed him to the executioner in the following months. Yet, the government was consistent in its position that it would only condemn the leadership for its actions in the rebellion, not the common soldiers. Thousands of Liberian rebels would easily reintegrate into the region’s society, members of both sides of the war agreeing it was best to move forward and look beyond the conflict.

Constitutional Reform & Reconciliation (1877-1885)
   The 1877 election in Louisiana was the first since peace had returned to the realm. The victory of the United Louisiana Party (ULP) in the polls, seemed to herald a new period of national reconciliation and renewal. Still, on the margins, the support for hardcore nationalists and socialists had markedly increased, many looking to the extremes amid discontent with some of the establishment. While the ULP lacked a majority of its own, it was able to form a fairly broad coalition with the more moderate Francophone conservatives.
   King Henry-Philippe wanted to heal the wounds caused by both of the conflicts that the United Kingdom of Louisiana had faced in the past decade, formally proposing a full-on adoption of a new constitution in late 1877. The king argued the old system, established by his grandfather when the realm had been far smaller in both terms of population and geographic extent, had been rendered obsolete by the nation’s subsequent trajectory. Eyeing electoral returns, he was seeking to head off any radical insurgency at the pass, especially from socialists and other more radical factions. He found a willing partner in the ULP, his calls for moderate reform music to their ears.
   With the approval of the legislature, the 1877 Constitutional Convention convened in New Orleans towards the end of the year, members agreeing the session would not adjourn until a new governing document for the realm had been completed. The Crown itself was an active partner in the deliberations, many delegates lunching with the King in between the morning and afternoon sessions to get a feeling for his aims. After several months of deliberation, the Constitution of 1878 was formally released early in that year.

[Spamage]

   The document called for the separation of the “Commonwealth” into several unique states, each corresponding to one of the various ethnic groups inhabiting the union. The realm was thus no longer a single kingdom, or even two kingdoms under one sovereign, but a wholesale confederation of the various groups inhabiting it. The Anglophone state would be Columbia. Francophone populace on the Plains was to be reorganized into Orleans and the Royal Demesne. California was seen as a Spanish focused area (though, given mass immigration the character of the state was changing rapidly at this point) and Liberia was to represent black Louisianans. Jamaica and Cuba, while potential future members of the Commonwealth, were left as part of the Caribbean Territories for the time being.
   The constitution made a series of separate reforms as well, proposing a 250-member National Assembly, a 36 member Senate, and devolved legislatures for the various states. The assembly would be elected every 4 years unless the government failed and earlier elections were required. The Senate, meanwhile, would have elections every 3 years, each time with half of the body up for a vote.
   Many celebrated the proposed Constitution of 1878 and it passed the legislature with little difficulty. Elections were to be held again in 1878 to elect officeholders for the reformed system, while smaller conventions were organized in each of the constituent states in order to determine how they would govern themselves. The result of the 1878 elections was a landslide for the ULP, which had demonstrated a capacity to govern in line with popular sentiment. They carried an eye-popping 167 seats out of the 250, establishing themselves as a Louisianan institution overnight. On January 1st, 1879 Louisiana embarked on a new era, the Constitution of 1878 coming into full effect.

Legislature Approves the Adoption of the Constitution of 1878
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

A Fair Deal (1879-1885)
   With the ratification of the constitution, the attention of the king turned towards reconstruction of the Commonwealth, both physically and culturally. Both Columbia and the West had been damaged by the incessant fighting of the 1870s and required time to recover. The National Assembly under the ULP was pliant to the wishes of their sovereign, making ample funds available for the repair of infrastructure and private property damaged in the North American War. Public works and reconstruction were employed both as a means of repairing the damage and providing work for those displaced in the chaos of the past several years.   
   Likewise, there was a push for cultural reconciliation. Louisiana was at this point a bubbling cauldron of different demographic groups. In addition to the existing Anglophone-Francophone-Black divide, there were now Spanish speaking Cubans, recent immigrants, and annexed former British subjects to consider as well. Each group had its own interests and aims, making politics both tribal and personal. The Crown was well aware it could not hope to keep the nation together with such high levels of internal animosity and suspicion. The tacit backing had been a first step to uniting the people under a broad movement, concrete action coming after the implementation of the new constitution.
   One of the immediate priorities of the National Assembly became the Civil Rights Act of 1880. Henry-Philippe sought to address the grievances of his black subjects and to ensure that Liberia would feel itself a full member of the Commonwealth in equal standing to the other constituent realms. Despite the violence they had employed, many understood that, at their core, the Liberian rebels had had a point. Shepherded through the legislature by P. B. S. Pinchback, the law ended all legal forms of discrimination by race, particularly targeting egregious examples of discrimination in Columbia. Likewise, there were provisions guaranteeing equality under the law, banning subtle methods of discrimination such as literacy tests and poll taxes, and prohibiting employment discrimination. Passage of the bill was rather controversial. While it carried with sizeable majorities in both houses, there were protests, particularly in Columbia, which felt itself singled out in the act.
   Still, despite the grumblings from some segments of society, the Civil Rights Act of 1880 saw tacit approval on the part of the electorate in the 1882 national elections. While the ULP majority in the National Assembly decreased, especially with losses in Columbia, their continued majority made many ULP leaders feel as though they had been given a mandate to continue social reform. Prime Minister Walter Guion, in concert with the Crown, spent the second session of the national assembly (1882-1886) focused on a ‘Fair Deal’ for the people of the Commonwealth. Child labor was prohibited, basic pensions were rolled out for retired workers and the destitute, and universal education expanded. The public school system was to operate in both English and French for all students, in order to better foster national unity.
   The biggest success, though, was the Health Insurance Bill of 1884. After deep consultation with a wide range of local leaders, the adopted policy forced both employers and employees to contribute to public health funds, though the majority came from workers. These funds would then be drawn on for medical care by the population. It was a landmark achievement, celebrated widely and even garnered the support of the socialists, who found themselves outmaneuvered politically. Yet, 1884 proved to be the peak of the reform period, the following years filled with disappointments from those seeking further policy changes.
   An 1885 push for a national minimum wage was too much for even some members of the ULP, the proposal falling to strong opposition from growing business community, the agricultural sector, and conservatives. It was an embarrassment and rare defeat for Prime Minister Guion, who announced his intent to retire in 1886. With his exit from the political scene, reform attempts began to wither, going no further than the Fair Deal (as the policies enacted from 1880-1884 had become collectively known). Women’s suffrage, unionization efforts, a minimum wage, and progressive taxation remained off the table as less reformist elements of the ULP seized control of the party.

Prime Minister Walter Guion (ULP), 1884
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The Redeemers (1885-1900)
   There was a cultural shift in the Anglophone half of the Commonwealth during the late nineteenth century, especially as the War of American Secession (1837-1841) passed into historical memory and was greatly romanticized. Thomas Dixon Jr.’s 1885 novel “The Glorious Struggle” depicted that conflict in great detail, glamorizing the secession of Columbia from the British Empire and its futile attempt to secure liberty on its own. Less flattering was the portrayal of the Louisianan monarchy and its role in the fight, the novel lamenting the loss of the republican tradition of Columbia in order to secure Louisiana’s aid. Louis-Philippe II was portrayed as a greedy tyrant more focused on expanding his dynasty than the good of the people. The novel centered on a South Carolinian plantation family devastated by the effects of the fighting. Later chapters were controversial given their somewhat sympathetic portrayal of slavery and subtle critique of Louisiana’s enforced emancipation. The Glorious Struggle was a bestseller in Columbia, but largely ignored in other corners of the Commonwealth.
   This romantic tradition coupled with a sense of betrayal and abandonment among the Anglophone Louisianans from the North American War. They had seen their North Carolinian brethren abandoned to Britain in a cynical land swap as part of the Peace at Albany. Demographically, they found their position eroding as thousands of Europeans poured into the Plains and West, ofttimes integration into Louisianan society as French speakers, decreasing the Anglophone proportion of society. There was growing frustration with the traditional Anglophone conservative and liberal parties, many seeing them both as hopelessly compromised following decades of government in New Orleans. The passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1880 in particular alienated much of the Columbian electorate with the ULP.
   The 1889 foundation of the Columbian Nationalist Party (CNP) in Atlanta proved to be a watershed moment in Louisianan politics. The CNP framed itself as first and foremost the political party for white Anglophone Louisianans, employing a mix of grievance, Protestantism, and nationalism to argue that the Columbian people were distinct from the remainder of Louisiana and ought to thrive on their own. John Brown Gordon, a veteran of the North American War, was chosen as their first leader as they contested the election of 1890.
   The CNP portrayed themselves as “Redeemers” first and foremost, hoping to right the wrongs (as they saw it) done to the Columbian people. Regional autonomy would be reasserted in order to reverse the compromises that had emerged during the War of American Secession and the Constitution of 1878. Their literature often contained not-so-subtle racist screeds against the Liberians as well, alienating the remaining black population in the region. As they centered their appeal on a white Columbian identity, they rapidly became a big-tent political party in that region. Their membership ranged from outright republican and secessionist elements to more moderate voices for autonomy and moderation. Anyone seeking advancement in Columbia soon came to recognize the importance of joining the movement, swelling its numbers.
   It was remarkable how rapidly the party attracted support. In the 1890 election, of the 83 seats in the National Assembly allocated to Columbia, they carried 12. This meant they were no more than another loud voice in the opposition at this point. Yet, in 1894 their support rose to 40 of the Columbian seats. By 1898, in a shock result, they carried 64 of Columbia’s seats, making them a major obstacle in the quest to form a government. Similarly, they began to dominate the statewide elections in Columbia, gaining an outright majority in the 1894 election and a supermajority in 1898. John Brown Gordon made it clear that substantial concessions would be necessary if they were to form a government in New Orleans. Until they had enough leverage to bring national politics to a halt, they acted as a silent fraction of the National Assembly, waiting in the wings to until their votes were deemed necessary for a majority.
   While the crown would recognize the legitimacy of the movement, it was clear to most that Henry-Philippe was personally offended by its growth of support. He had compromised throughout his whole reign to satisfy the various factions in the Louisianan Commonwealth only to have certain elements such as the CNP turn around and demand yet further reform. Likewise, the religious king detested the staunchly anti-Catholic elements in the CNP that lampooned clerics.

A Painted Scene from Thomas Dixon Jr's "The Glorious Struggle", 1883
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

A Growth of the Extremes (1894-)
   The ULP saw its position as the preeminent Louisianan political party seriously challenged with the rise of the CNP. While the loss of seats in Columbia itself was not necessarily a threat to their majority, the subsequent rise in other counter-movements was. They sought to hold the center amid a wave of growing radicalism sweeping the Commonwealth. Even with Guion’s retirement in 1886, the ULP had won 153 seats in that election and maintained their outright majority. Yet, in 1890 they lost 12 seats and a further 13 in 1894, where they only held a 3-seat outright majority.
   There was a counter-reaction to the CNP by some parts of the Francophone society. Right-wing Catholics and traditionalists called for the King to suspend the constitution and root out Columbian nationalism. They saw the Anglophone Louisianans as ungrateful for all the economic and military aid that had been provided by the Francophone population on their behalf. The Columbians were always demanding more, never satisfied even as the government catered to their whims as an increasing minority in the Commonwealth. The Cross and Crown Party (CeC), founded in 1893, represented those fed up with Columbian nationalism. That movement also came to serve as a home for the small but growing reactionary socialist community in the realm that had tired of the democratic circus.
   In early 1894 a left-wing breakaway faction of the ULP formed the Farmer’s Party. Frustrated because efforts for reform had stalled since the departure of Guion eight years earlier, the Farmer’s Party also tapped into a growing resentment of corporate and big-money interests in New Orleans. They framed the ULP as beholden to far-off executives, while they argued the working man’s case. Less radical than the socialists, the movement sought to make itself palatable to an electorate aghast at developments in Mexico and France. They were somewhat successful, capitalizing on the economic concerns of small-holding farmers to win themselves around two dozen seats in the national assembly in the 1898 elections.
   The rise of the CNP, CeC, and Farmer’s Party were accompanied by continued socialist strength, thanks in part to that party’s consistently high returns in Liberia. While equal rights had been legislated by the Civil Rights Act of 1880, more than a decade on implementation was decidedly uneven. Columbia under the CNP, for example, followed the letter of the law, but not the spirit, looking for tacit ways to undermine it. In such circumstances, most black voters argued that a continued alliance with the socialists was necessary for the protection on their interests.
   All of these elements combined meant the center eroded. The archaic old Anglophone and Francophone liberal and conservative parties, relics of the era before the primacy of the ULP in the late 1870s, gradually began to lose ground. They went from controlling a combined 68 seats in 1878 to a mere 25 in 1898, with the Anglophone Conservatives out of office entirely. Many moderates felt they had no other choice than to continue backing the ULP, even as their enthusiasm for doing so began to wane in the shadow of that party's decades-long tenure. There was a sense of whiplash with all of this, as paradoxically life had never before been so good for so many in the Commonwealth, and yet it seemed as though everyone was at each other's throats.

Black Gold and the Oil Boom (1887-1897)
   Whatever the political and demographic challenges faced by the Commonwealth, the late nineteenth century was a time of great economic prosperity. Expanding on earlier success in the development of hydroelectricity, a series of dams were constructed on the Missouri, Platte, and Mississippi Rivers. This meant there was an explosion of access to electricity in large portions of the realm, St. Louis, New Orleans, and Fort Pierre all became islands of light. Further projects in the 1890s saw widespread electrical use spread throughout California, Columbia, and Cuba. While outlying areas still had difficulty, due to the lack of efficient long-distance transmission technology, this would increasingly be tackled by new innovations in that field. By 1900 it was estimated 60% of Louisianan households had been electrified. While this was short of the government’s goal that had been expressed in the National Modernization Act of 1876, it was still one of the highest rates in the world.
   While the electrical boom was occurring, the government of Louisiana also fostered a growing petroleum industry. As technology and newer forms of transportation advanced, it became increasingly evident that the future of the world was going to rest on oil production. Henry-Philippe, somewhat of a hobby chemist himself, had worked with political leadership to provide subsidies to those willing to explore extraction of petroleum and its refining into oil. From the late 1880s on, petroleum extraction exploded in Texas. Louisianan crude became a major export, thousands of immigrants relocating to Texas in search of steady and profitable work. Likewise, refineries were established in several locations, further increasing the level of economic activity and development.
   These economic booms were accompanied by tremendous corporate expansion. The growing success of populist and socialist movements in rural areas was a direct response to the mass expansion of railway, oil, steel, electrical, and agricultural conglomerates that were coming to dominate Louisianan society. Magnates made tremendous fortunes and lived ostentatious lifestyles in the Royal Demesne, ignoring the effects they were having on small businesses and family farms. This was an era of growing prosperity, but deep corruption.

Louisianan Oil Fields, 1900
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Louis-Philippe III (1897-)
A New Sovereign (1897-)
   Henry-Philippe died in 1897, many blaming the stress over events in neighboring Mexico and Quebec, though the King was already nearing his 60th birthday. After 28 years on the throne, he was followed by his son, the now King Louis-Philippe III of Louisiana. The new king was greeted with genuine enthusiasm, his coronation somewhat of a novelty after so long since his father’s. Still, in a sign that times had changed, many noted the absence of most CPC and Socialist assemblymen from the proceedings. Louisianan politics had changed markedly in the last three decades and it remained to be seen whether the royal family would be able to weather the increasingly tumultuous storm.

The New King, Louis-Philippe III of Louisiana, 1899
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

The 1898 Election and Aftermath (1898-)
   As in many other countries, the coming of the turn of the century had been met with heightened political polarization. This was evident in Louisiana too, with the 1898 election for the National Assembly. The ULP lost further ground due to the arrival of the CeC and Farmer’s parties on the scene, being reduced to a plurality of the National Assembly for the first time since the ratification of the Constitution of 1878. They were only able to avoid a coalition with one of the various radical, smaller parties (CNP, CeC, Farmer’s, or Socialists) by cobbling together a coalition in league with the rump Francophone and Anglophone legacy parties. It was an even 125 seats, meaning little legislation could actually be adopted, but King Henry-Philippe insisted on seating the government, wary of radical elements in government. He seated Robert F. Broussard from the ULP as Prime Minister.

Dynastic and Diplomatic Struggles (1897-)
   The North American Alliance, once an unquestioned cornerstone of Louisianan diplomacy, seemed at question by the turn of the century. Louis-Philippe III had even more of a vested interest in the Quebec Succession dispute than his father. With his ascension to the throne his son and heir, Prince Henry-Philippe, was now heir to the Louisianan throne in addition to the potential heir to the Empire of Quebec. New Orleans watched with growing disapproval of Wilhelmina’s seizure of the throne and then her subsequent slights to the young Louisianan prince, her nephew. At court, the King’s mother Prince Theresa Augusta of Quebec, the aunt of Wilhelmina, was a tireless advocate on behalf of a Louisiana-Quebecois union, arguing that her niece was an illegal usurper. Needless to say, the outspoken Queen-Mother did little to mend ties between her original and adopted homelands. To the South, Mexico remained cold after extensive tacit aid from Louisiana to the Augustinians during the Border War. Louis-Philippe shared his father's disdain for the Red King and his growing radicalism, refusing to entertain any sort of rapprochement with his former ally.
   Thus, to many in Louisiana it seemed as though the old world was crumbling around on all sides. In addition, most feared growing fifth-columnists in Columbia, Liberia, and Cuba as extremist politics began to take root. Talks of diplomatic realignment began to grow among some, politicians even debating formerly unthinkable reconciliations with Colombia and Britain. Louis-Philippe, as sovereign, had some difficult choices to make.

Conclusion of Updates

Map of the World in 1900

[Spamage]

Crowns and Parliaments: The Story of the Balkans 1876-1900

(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

   To many in the Balkans, the events of the 1870s seemed like a dream come true. Centuries on from the Battle of Varna, the Ottomans had been expelled from the region. Bulgarians, Serbians, Greeks, and Romanians could live as independent people once more. Yet, over time, this ecstatic attitude would give way to a more realistic perspective, the situation on the ground far more complicated than it had been initially envisioned. While peace was maintained, thanks in large part to close ties between the various ruling families, there would be vociferous nationalists in each country that called for a revision to the Treaty of Limassol in their favor. The monarchs would be castigated by some as out-of-touch elites, eager to play their dynastic games on behalf of their home countries and not their subjects. Some would even vocally complain that the Balkans had traded a nearby Turkish master for more distant ones in Vienna, Moscow, Stockholm, and Paris.
   Still, to many the Treaty of Warsaw was alone responsible for the two decades of peace, allowing the new countries to build political institutions, a shared civic culture, and durable economic systems. It was only in the face of emerging obstacles that it was increasingly questioned. By the turn of the century, it was an open question if the peace could endure for two decades more.

Bulgaria
   With the collapse of Prussia, the Hohenzollerns in Bulgaria found themselves in an awkward position. King William Henry had watched his brother Frederick IV’s unsuccessful gambit for power and subsequent defeat stoically from far-off Burgas, offering no help to his homeland and focusing instead on developments in Anatolia. For his loyalty to Bulgaria, William-Henry was by far the most popular of the “Warsaw Sovereigns” (as the Balkan leaders created in the Treaty of Warsaw were collectively known). By 1900, he was also the last of the original four leaders still in power, his reign stretching beyond its twenty-fifth anniversary. While there were concerns about what would happen after he was gone, the robust king remained a tremendous force in the region.
   Bulgaria was probably the power most contented by the Treaty of Limassol, being by far the largest regional power and controlling the vast majority of its ethnic populace. With little more desired, save perhaps for Romanian Dobruja, the realm adopted a defensive attitude, aware factions in each of its neighbors had designs on its territory. This paired well with the king’s continuing of the Prussian military tradition, exiles from the court of Frederick IV helping to forge a sizeable army and martial culture. There was little question of democratization along the lines of other realms, the Crown employing heavy-handed tactics to ensure that the realm remained an absolute monarchy. King William-Henry feared political openness would be exploited by other powers to cleave away parts of his realm, particularly the predominantly Serbian areas west of Sofia. Many Bulgarians, merely relieved to be free from Ottoman tyranny, were all too content to accept the status quo.
   Dynastically, marriage was also employed as a means of ensuring friendship with its neighbors. Princess Pauline, the King’s youngest daughter, was wed to Crown Prince Joseph of Serbia in 1881. Boris, the king’s grandson and second-in-line for the throne after his father the Crown Prince, was likewise wed to Princess Alexandra of Greece in 1899. Their son, the king’s great-grandson and another Boris, was born in November 1899 to widespread celebration as a representation of the glorious future ahead for the realm.
   Diplomatically, especially with Prussia’s collapse into an Austrian satellite, Russia was courted as an ally. By the mid-1880s Bulgaria became Moscow’s go-to partner in the region. The close ties were aided further by a shared complicity in the expulsion of the Turks from the region, Bulgaria having joined Russia in removing a substantial minority of Muslims within its territories. Extensive economic and trade ties blossomed, enduring even the worst of the Panic of 1888. Bulgarian migrant workers proved to be a crucial demographic in Konstantingrad’s rapid recovery following the expulsion of the Turks.

King William Henry of Bulgaria, 1880s
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Serbia
   The Kingdom of Serbia was a complicated realm. United by a common language, the region possessed tremendous religious diversity. Many in Vienna had been pessimistic about the feasibility of forming a kingdom there during negotiations for the Treaty of Warsaw, but the realm survived, becoming a loyal ally of the emperor. King Maximilian was a devoted brother to Charles VIII, grateful for the granting of a kingdom. Even after his death, his son and heir would continue to uphold the close ties. By the turn of the century there was extensive military, economic, and diplomatic integration between the two realms, some questioning if Serbia was not merely becoming yet another vassal to Vienna.
   Following the general trend within the Habsburg Monarchy, King Maximilian had slowly embarked on constitutional reform. The Edict of 1883 decreed religious freedom throughout the realm, codifying the situation that had existed in practice up until that point. As a former Catholic, the king sympathized with that portion of his subjects. He was also well-aware of the substantial Muslim minority, viewing mass deportations along the lines of Bulgaria and Russia as infeasible given the sheer number within his borders. Even though this was condemned by Serbian Orthodox authorities, they were largely powerless as the King forged ahead. A formal Constitution of 1887 semi-democratized the realm, organizing elections with very limited suffrage as a means of binding the people to the government. The elections of 1890, 1894, and 1898 all returned fairly moderate National Assemblies, center-left and right establishment figures dominating the political scene in a country trying to find its identity.
      The dynamic within the Kingdom of Serbia was rather unique. The closer to the Austrian border one went, the greater the loyalty to the Habsburgs. Cities such as Belgrade and Sarajevo thrived with an influx of Austrian and Saxon capital upon the formation of the Habsburg Trade Bloc. Yet, not all were content, southern Serbia increasingly vocal in its complaints. Those near the Bulgarian and Albanian borders were particularly incensed. Their neighboring Serbs had suddenly become cut off; borders erected arbitrarily between different, intermarried communities in the Treaty of Warsaw. They watched helplessly as their cousins were subjected to Bulgarization campaigns by the government of William-Henry, resenting the indifference of both King Maximilian and the elites in Belgrade. Economically, high tariffs as a result of being in the Habsburg Trade Bloc meant that doing business with their neighbors in Greece and Bulgaria became far more expensive overnight, the problem exacerbated by the Panic of 1888. While Belgrade and Sarajevo blossomed, cities such as Nis and Novi Pazar struggled. The region lagged significantly behind the north in terms of economic development, industrialization, and infrastructure. The subjects here voted for the nationalist parties calling for a restoration of Greater Serbia. Campaign literature slandered the king as a puppet of Vienna and a false convert to Serbian Orthodoxy. While still a minority, their allegations of a ‘job half done’ alarmed many in neighboring realms.
   Maximilian died in 1896, the first of the Warsaw Sovereigns to pass away. He was genuinely mourned in Belgrade, the various priests and imams of his subject’s religions showing up to pay their respects. Yet, further outside the capital there was indifference. The king was succeeded by Joseph, who became unpopular in some quarters merely for having married Princess Pauline of Bulgaria. Still, the relatively young, dynamic sovereign (Joseph only being in his 30s by 1900) looked ahead to a promising future if trends held. The question remained as to whether he would be able to woo his restive subjects to the south.

King Joseph I of Serbia
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Greece
   Not since the fall of Constantinople in 1453 had the Greeks enjoyed self-government. Yet, there was no time to celebrate the rebirth of independence, the realm being born into the chaotic post-Ottoman situation in Anatolia. Greece, promised much of the coast, found itself embroiled in the Turkish Civil War, seeking to defend its outposts that had existed since antiquity. It would be alone in the Balkan powers of actually engaging in military operations between the Treaty of Limassol and the turn of the century.
   While initially the war seemed promising, especially following victory at the Battle of Balikesir in 1878, a lack of follow-up gave the Turks time to regroup. Just two years later the Battle of Kutahya saw the army turn tail and rout, fleeing to the safety of Smyrna. Constantine I, himself having become somewhat skeptical of involvement by this point, ceded most Greek possessions along the Anatolian coast with the Treaty of Rhodes. While the peace ensured Greece lived to fight another day, it was underwhelming and proved a sad note by which to open the rebirth of the nation. After the Treaty of Rhodes, unlike either the Bulgarians or Serbs, the Greek preoccupation would primarily be to the east, not the north.
   Constantine I found his domestic position greatly weakened with both his initial involvement in the decision to assault Anatolia and then his subsequent vacillation to the peace camp. His popularity was no longer stratospheric, many seeing the imperfections in their monarch. In such an environment, and hoping to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control, the king elected to willingly cede some power to a parliament in 1883. Inspired by his Scandinavian homeland, the Greek Constitution of 1883 proved to be the most democratic of the Balkan constitutions. It called for relatively widespread male suffrage, only barring the very poorest.
   What followed was the blossoming of a relatively stable parliamentary democracy in Greece proper. In his address opening the first session of Parliament in 1884, the king harkened back to Athenian democracy and argued that no one would be more responsible in their judgement than his Greek subjects. By the turn of the century, parliament had become a normal part of the government and was relatively unquestioned. While the sovereign remained the ultimate executive, both Constantine and his son Constantine II exercising their rights to veto quite often, there remained general harmony between the two branches of government.
   Despite gratitude towards Scandinavia for its liberation, the death of Catherine II and accession of Charles XIV greatly weakened diplomatic ties between Athens and Stockholm. Not only was the Queen of Greece Josepha one of the Heese-Darmstadt potential claimants to the Scandinavian throne, but she had little personal relationship with her distant cousin. This further undermined the dynastic unity, already shaky given Constantine I’s Huitfeld-Kaas status wholly separate from the Oldenburgs. While there were talks of a marriage between a child of Charles XIV and one of the Greek princelings, nothing came of these as the eligible children were wed to fellow Balkan sovereigns to keep the peace. Aside from Romania, and its balancing of Franco-Russian interests, Greece would be by far the most autonomous of the Warsaw Monarchies, loosely aligning with Scandinavia while maintaining diplomatic autonomy. In terms of the other powers, Athens looked enviously at Konstantingrad. While grateful for Russian aid in its independence, and Russia’s protection of the city’s Greek community, there were many who still saw the city as their realm’s natural capital.
   Constantine I died in 1898, his eldest son succeeding his as Constantine II. The new sovereign and his Habsburg-Serbian wife were coronated in an elaborate ceremony in Athens modeled off the old Byzantine rites, many wondering if the new king would seek to further the Byzantine comparisons by renewing tensions with the Ottomans…

Constantine II of Greece
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Romania
   Romania operated outside the traditional three-way balance to its south, seeking to forge a unique identity to go along with its distinct origins. Augustus I Francis, the first sovereign, had died in 1874 and was succeeded by his eldest son Louis as King of Romania. Whereas the first king had been unquestionably French, using his new realm as a means of advancing his personal prestige, King Louis I instead was focused on building up Romania. Demonstrating his loyalty to his adopted homeland, he wed a local noblewoman, Maria Ghika-Comănești, winning the hearts of his subjects and giving his eventual children blood ties to their homeland. There would be none of the nonsensical intermarrying like to the south, Louis viewing the Balkan weddings as serving no purpose other than to constrict the freedom of action of the sovereigns in the region.
   Louis was an active leader, forging close ties with the Romanian Orthodox Church. Taking advantage of the momentary lapse in the Patriarchate of Constantinople shortly after the Russian establishment of Konstantingrad, the Patriarchate of All Romania was established in 1876. The King reached an agreement with the Church, government oversight of religious lands in exchange for granting the clergy control over a newly-minted national school system. Culturally, moreso than the other realms in the regions, King Louis oversaw a conscious effort to forge a distinct Romanian culture. Schooling embraced the Latin aspects of Romania, attempting to purge society of eastern Slavic ‘corruption’ that had infiltrated it after centuries of foreign domination.
   The origins of the royal family, coupled with the emphasis on the ‘Latin’ nature of Romanian culture meant that all eyes turned to Paris. In many aspects, Romania sought to follow the lead of its French cousins. The latest fashions in Versailles and Paris often were soon imitated by the women of Bucharest. Yet, while Bucharest looked towards Paris in terms of inspiration, King Louis was also a practical man. Russia was close, as was Austria. His realm could be crushed by both before France would be able to send even a shipment of help. Louis elected to cultivate ties with Moscow, careful to make Romania a neutral power in disputes between Moscow and Paris, balancing both powers and forcing them each to vie for domestic influence. This was aided by his younger brother acting as the sovereign of Trebizond, by this point a virtual Russian puppet and a key intermediary between Moscow and Bucharest.
   One thing that was completely clear in Romanian government was an antipathy towards Austria. Vienna was framed as an oppressor of the half of Romanian population that lived within the Kingdom of Hungary. While Romanian pressure was limited in its effectiveness, Vienna utterly dismissing Bucharest’s demands for Transylvanian autonomy out of hand, it remained fervent throughout the nineteenth century. The curriculum instilled by the Church inculcated a sense of nationalism in the Romanian youth, even if this was likely not shared by their brethren across the border under Austrian control.
   Louis died suddenly in Bucharest on April 8th, 1884, shocking the realm. Romania was forced into a regency under the Queen Mother on behalf of young Augustus II. With the new king just eight-years-old, it would not be until 1891 that the sovereign would be able to rule in his own right. The regency was clearly weaker than the government under King Louis, and there was soon public pressure to open up the political process further, including direct elections and the establishment of a national assembly. Romania had not been immune to the winds of liberalism that had even begun to infect stulted monarchies such as Austria, Serbia, and Poland. The Romanian Brethren, one liberal nationalist group, organized a series of mass protests calling for a constitution in 1886. Queen Maria, not fully confident in the readiness of the army yet, felt coerced into accepting. Thus, the project of royal authoritarianism, fostered by King Louis, was paused.
   With the Queen Regent’s acceptance, royal representatives and the Romanian Brethren engaged in a series of high-level negotiations, culminating in the Constitution of 1889. The document was limited, suffrage still being highly restricted, but many of the liberal leaders shared an antipathy to mass-participatory democracy, merely desiring the right of the aristocracy and economic elites to assemble a government. The national election of 1890 yielded a majority for the conservatives under Prime Minister Dimitrie Ghica. While loyal to the Crown, the new government was intent on maintaining the status quo and protecting the newly-ratified agreement between young Augustus II and his subjects.
   The King came of age in 1891. Privately, he vowed he would never forgive his mother for what she had done. He saw in the Constitution of 1889 a betrayal of his father’s legacy. Young Augustus was inspired by no one so much as his distant cousin Louis XX. His siblings Simplicie, Antonina, and Amande had all been fostered in Versailles, there even being talks about a prospective betrothal between the Dauphin and one of the Romanian princesses, though nothing had come of this by 1900.
   Tutored by many of the same men as Louis XX, Augustus II was initially a committed reactionary-socialist, seeing in the ideology a means of reasserting his power. He was joined by many young radicals coming of age, inculcated in a bizarre soup of religious nationalism pushed by the Romanian Orthodox Church. Yet, the King understood he was constrained by the Constitution of 1889 and the fairly mainstream electorate that continued to push conservative candidates in the 1894 and 1898 elections. There was only marginal support for the reactionary-socialists in both of those votes. While this was likely due to the stringent voting conditions agreed by the Romanian Brethren in 1889, it still gave the National Assembly the veneer of popular legitimacy. As the 1890s continued without any significant disputes between the King and his various Prime Ministers, many analysts came to believe that the headstrong sovereign was maturing into the role, recognizing the reality of his domestic situation.  

King Augustus II of Romania
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)