by Jean Plaidy
Chapter XII
JOHN BROWN IN COMMAND
A new paper calling itself Tomahawk was being published; it was meant to be satirical and was most libellous; its leading topic was with that subject of which the Press was trying to create the greatest possible scandal – the Queen’s relationship with John Brown.
On the paper’s birth there had been constant hints about that relationship and in August of that year there appeared a cartoon which could not be ignored.
It was entitled ‘A Brown Study’. It showed John Brown sprawling against the throne with his back to it and a glass in his hand, while the British Lion roared at his feet.
The implication was clear and when Bertie saw it he was secretly amused. He had suffered so much criticism regarding his own conduct, but what was that compared with this?
He was planning a trip to Paris – his favourite city – and he knew that the Queen would put up a certain amount of opposition as she always did at the hint of his travelling abroad. He thought it would be good strategy to get in first, so with Tomahawk in his hand he arrived at Osborne.
As he came uninvited the Queen was not waiting to receive him. She was in her apartments and the way was barred by John Brown.
The Prince was furious. No wonder the cartoonists had such a field day with his mother and this crude serving-man. The Prince of Wales would certainly not accept this unbecoming behaviour.
‘Ye canna see the Queen now,’ said John Brown. ‘The woman’s resting.’
‘I think the Queen will not be pleased to hear that the Prince of Wales has been denied admittance.’
‘She’s nae in a fit condition to be badgered,’ said Brown firmly.
The Queen, hearing voices, called out: ‘Brown, who is that?’
‘It’s your eldest,’ answered Brown. ‘I’ve told him ye’ll see him in the morning. Ye’re too tired to be bothered the night.’
‘Thank you, Brown,’ said the Queen.
And what could Bertie do after that but go away fuming? Brown would have to go. The position in which he put the Queen, the position in which he put them all, was quite ridiculous.
The next morning Bertie triumphantly waved ‘A Brown Study’ before his mother.
‘Have you seen this, Mama?’
She glanced at it. ‘Oh dear, another of those tiresome things. Brown is so imperturbable. He doesn’t care a pin about them.’
‘Mama, this is an attack on you, on the Crown.’
‘Of course any attack on honest John Brown is an attack on me.’
‘But this is making the throne … ridiculous.’
‘What nonsense, Bertie! This is just malicious people being malicious.’
‘Brown must go, Mama. He was very rude to me.’
‘Ah, that is it, is it? You don’t like him. It is the first time I have understood that my servants must win your approval.’
‘Mama, they are suggesting he is not just a servant and it is the people who disapprove as well as myself.’
‘The people know nothing. They cannot understand my grief at Beloved Papa’s death and they would like to deny me the comfort my faithful servants give me. I hope you have not come bursting down here just to tell me this. But while you are here there are one or two matters I should like to discuss with you. Your debts, mostly incurred by gambling, and I am horrified to learn by presents you have given to women, are mounting. You are going the same way as my Uncle George who caused such distress to his parents by the trouble he got into with women. I hope you do not write scandalous letters. And what of dear sweet Alix who is pathetically ill? What does she think, I wonder, at these rumours? There is an actress … I heard … but I sincerely hope that is not true. I think it is time I took a close look into your manner of living. Vicky is quite horrified … and even Alice has heard. Sometimes I can’t help feeling relieved that Beloved Papa is not here. He would be so distressed and when we think of how when he was so ill he went to Cambridge …’
The Prince turned away in dismay. What was the use of trying to remonstrate with her; she could turn the tables so adroitly because all the time she was reminding him that although he might be the Prince of Wales, she was the Queen.
He left Osborne deflated, a fact which John Brown noted, and his sardonic insolent smile was not lost on the Prince of Wales.
‘A Brown Study’ had sent the sales of Tomahawk soaring and rumours about the Queen’s relationship with John Brown magnified. Some said that he was her lover, others that he was her husband; there was one rumour that she had inherited her grandfather’s madness, that she was a raving lunatic at times and only John Brown could keep her in order; there was another rumour that John Brown was a medium who could put her in touch with Albert and this was the reason for his influence over her.
Spiritualism was having a vogue in England at the time and the Queen had been heard to express interest in the new cult. What more natural than that she should wish to be in touch with Albert?
But the most usual theory was that the Queen and Brown were lovers; and the fact that the Queen would not appear in public and so deprived her people of the glittering ceremonies they loved, and that John Brown’s arrogance and indifference had not endeared him to those who were in contact with him, made both the Queen and her Highland servant become very unpopular.
She had, however, consented to attend a review in Hyde Park, with Brown of course in attendance as usual on the box of her carriage.
She was astonished, therefore, when Lord Derby called on her and told her that he thought it very unwise for John Brown to accompany her to the review.
‘And why not, pray?’ demanded the Queen.
‘The people might resort to violence. The mob can easily be aroused and these distasteful cartoons have been read by thousands.’
‘And because of unscrupulous scribblers who have tried hard to damage the character of a good honest man, he is not to perform his usual duties?’
Lord Derby tried to imply discreetly that it was not the defamation of John Brown’s character which worried him so much as that of the Queen’s, but the Queen would not see this.
‘I shall not be dictated to,’ she told Derby coldly. ‘And I shall certainly not allow my comfort to be spoiled by the interference of wicked people.’
That was as far as the Prime Minister could get with her. He went to Disraeli and told him of the Queen’s response. Disraeli was grave. ‘There could be trouble,’ he said. ‘John Brown there in the Queen’s company with that smug self-satisfaction of his … for all the world as though he is the new Consort. Now if the Queen would relegate Mr John Brown to the Highlands where he belongs and take some handsome Prince for her husband – preferably a gay one – nothing would delight the people more.’
But it was no use hoping for the impossible. The Queen had made up her mind that John Brown should accompany her at the Hyde Park review and accompany her he should.
Over cold patty from Fortnum and Mason’s and champagne fresh from the ice bucket taken together after Dizzy’s return from the House he and Mary Anne discussed the situation.
‘It’ll be a miracle if there’s not trouble with the mob over John Brown,’ said Dizzy.
‘There are occasional miracles in public life,’ Mary Anne reminded him. ‘Think of my own Dizzy’s climb to fame.’
‘That’s not a miracle, that’s hard work.’
‘Geniuses might make miracles happen. Couldn’t you bring your dulcet tones to drive home the truth by putting the whole thing in one of your clever little nutshells?’
‘My dearest Mary Anne, what a delectable concoction of metaphors. But even I am not capable of mixing them into a tasty little cake to delight Her Majesty’s palate.’
‘Oh come, Dizzy, you’re capable of anything and you can’t tell me that she doesn’t take more notice of you than that crude John Brown.’
‘We run neck and neck, my dearest, and I couldn’t tell you who is the favourite.’
‘Now who’s ta
lking in metaphors and I won’t have my Dizzy compared with a horse, even a race-horse. And as for that John Brown he’s nothing better than an old carthorse.’
Dizzy laughed; but he was very anxious about the review.
Affairs in Mexico provided the miracle. Napoleon III had set up the Archduke Maximilian as ruler of Mexico and given him the title of Emperor; he had married Princess Charlotte, Uncle Leopold’s daughter, so was therefore close to the Queen. But the Mexicans would not acknowledge him. The civil war in North America had come to an end and Washington warned Napoleon that the army he had set up there must be withdrawn. This was done but Maximilian remained, hoping to raise an army of his own and retain his position. It was hopeless; the Mexican republic was restored and Maximilian court-martialled, sentenced to death and shot.
In view of such a catastrophe, it was decided that the Hyde Park review must be cancelled.
‘God has sent us our miracle,’ said Dizzy.
But Mary Anne was certain that her clever husband had arranged it.
Although she would have been pleased to, the Queen could find no reason why Bertie should not go to Paris to attend the International Exhibition.
Her ministers seemed impressed by Bertie’s popularity abroad and called him a good ‘ambassador’. She feared that meant behaving very frivolously but in her heart she had to accept the fact that Bertie did balance to a certain extent the disfavour into which the family had fallen by her love of seclusion and devotion to John Brown – so off Bertie went to Paris to open the British section of the Exhibition.
Alix, often feeling very ill, unable to walk without the aid of sticks, was a little depressed wondering what Bertie was doing in his favourite city. Paris, he had said, suited him better than any other foreign capital; he felt at home there; he believed he understood the mood of the people; and the Emperor and his wife always made him feel so welcome.
Bertie had always been devoted to Napoleon III. When he had visited Paris as a boy with his parents and had made the acquaintance of the Emperor he had said, rather to the embarrassment of the Emperor and those who heard him, ‘I wish you were my father.’ The Emperor remembered this and there was always a special friendship between him and the Prince of Wales.
So Bertie settled down to enjoy his visit which he did to such effect that Vicky, and Alice too, were soon expressing alarm at his behaviour and saying how sorry they felt for poor Alix.
While in Paris he met the Sultan of Turkey and the Khedive of Egypt who intimated that they would like an invitation to come to England. The Queen was disturbed. Bertie knew that she disliked the ceremonies which must take place during the sojourn of visiting potentates, but he considered the visits necessary. Once again the government was on Bertie’s side and it was decided that it would be a direct snub to Turkey to refuse to invite the Sultan and the Khedive.
‘Very well, then,’ said the Queen. ‘But they are Bertie’s responsibilities. He must take charge of them.’
The Queen’s ministers thought that in view of the Prince’s amiable nature this was a good idea; as for Bertie, he greatly looked forward to doing the honours. Alix would not be able to join in as they could have wished because her limbs were still painful, but her condition was improving and the Queen had agreed that if she maintained progress a visit to Wiesbaden would not be frowned on.
The Sultan was affable in the extreme; he was greatly taken with Alix and eyed her speculatively as though contemplating what a delightful addition she would be to his harem; he compromised by offering her one of his palaces in Constantinople where she could recuperate very happily, he was sure.
Bertie organised entertainments for the Sultan who was delighted with everything he saw. The Queen received him graciously at Osborne and declared that she would bestow the Garter on him.
When he heard what a great honour this was the Sultan was delighted and as the Spithead Review was about to take place Bertie thought it would be a good idea for the presentation to be made on board the Royal Yacht.
Bertie enjoyed making the arrangements; and Alice, who was visiting England with her husband, Prince Louis of Hesse, had to admit that Bertie had a way of enhancing such occasions. Bertie was at his best entertaining and if he was over-gallant to the prettiest women and pressed their hands too frequently and whispered to them what might well have been the arrangement of an assignation, this must not be stressed, because the Queen’s minister affirmed that when Bertie was a host or a guest, relations with foreign countries were always improved.
So it was with the Sultan. But even Bertie could not command the ocean.
Although it was the month of July the sea suddenly became grey; the wind had risen and the poor Sultan, unused to such conditions, began to feel queasy. It would be unthinkable to mention such bodily discomfort on such an occasion and he managed to stagger on deck.
Bertie whispered to Louis of Hesse that they had better get the ceremony over as quickly as possible and Louis agreed. But the Queen was unused to being hurried and was quite unaware of her guest’s discomfiture.
She came on to the deck with John Brown standing a pace behind her and the ceremony was about to begin.
The Queen said to her equerry: ‘You have the ribbon?’
The equerry replied that it was the second equerry who had the ribbon.
The Queen held out her hand but the second equerry stammered that he was of the opinion that it was the duty of the first equerry to hand the ribbon to the Queen.
Fortunately the Sultan felt too ill to notice this hitch in the proceedings and that the Queen was glaring at the equerries, and Bertie was clearly nonplussed.
John Brown’s raw Scottish accent broke the silence.
‘What’s all this mithering. Ye’ve nae brought the ribbon?’ He looked about him and seeing Prince Louis wearing the order which the Queen had bestowed on him, he quickly took it off the Prince and handed it to the Queen.
‘This one’ll do. He’ll nae know no difference,’ he said.
There was a second’s silence and then taking Louis’s ribbon from John Brown the Queen proceeded to bestow it on the Sultan.
The Queen was amused. She discussed the affair with Bertie and Alice.
‘It was so funny. The idea of those stupid men … They had forgotten to bring the ribbon … and there we all were. Really it was a most unprecedented situation. And then Brown, so resourceful always, took Louis’s. I shall never forget the astonishment on Louis’s face when Brown whipped it off. Tell your husband, Alice my dear, that he shall have his ribbon back. But how very clever of Brown. What we should have done if he had not been there to act so promptly I can’t imagine. But then it is not the first time that I have realised how very much I rely on him.’
‘Louis was astounded,’ began Alice. ‘Without a by your leave …’
‘My dear child, there was no time for by your leaves. That is the virtue of Brown, he never stops to consider what people will think. He sees the right thing to do and does it. I wish others were more like him.’
Bertie said he had told Alix about it and they had nearly died of laughing.
That any member of the family should nearly die of laughing now that the Prince Consort was dead would have been unthinkable if the person responsible for the mirth had not been John Brown.
As it was the Queen permitted herself to smile; and the outcome of that affair was that what might have caused a great storm and possible dismissals had been turned into a joke by what the Queen called the resourceful good sense of honest John Brown.
Shortly after the Sultan’s visit Bertie and Alix left for Wiesbaden, Alix having to be carried on board the Royal Yacht in a sedan chair which had been made for this purpose.
Fortunately the waters soon appeared to be having an effect and although it was still necessary to use her two sticks she could walk more easily. Her knee remained very stiff and she limped painfully but there was an improvement.
She was, of course, unable to lead a very social li
fe and it was absolutely necessary for her to retire early. This quiet life was very irksome for Bertie during the first week or so and after that unbearable. He was so kind, so thoughtful, no one could have been more gentle and sympathetic but as soon as she was safely in bed he went off on his adventures.
His neglect of the Princess of Wales could not go unnoticed particularly as he was seen late at night in the company of ladies indulging in the highest of spirits which was hardly seemly when the poor Princess of Wales was an invalid.
Alice, now back in Darmstadt, was shocked by the stories which were filtering through. As was to be expected, Vicky was greatly alarmed. There were such scandalous reports of Bertie’s conduct, she wrote to her mother. Bertie was so flirtatious – and perhaps that was a mild way of expressing it; moreover he was gambling too heavily. He must be persuaded to stay away from the races.
The Queen wrote back firmly. She knew Bertie’s weakness. Dear Papa had known it and had done his best to curb it right until the end. It was always the same when Bertie was on the continent – not that his behaviour was any better at home, but it was easier to keep a rein on him there. She wrote to Bertie. He must stay away from those places where he could not be seen without losing his character.
Bertie wrote back jauntily – he could be flippant when he was away; it was when he was faced by that stern Majesty that he was nonplussed. ‘It is Vicky who has written to you. One would imagine she thought me ten years old instead of twenty-six.’
Bertie ignored the warnings.
Alix, aware of the scandal, was not very happy. She missed the babies – they were her great consolation, she was realising. It was unpleasant to have to suffer the pains of her limbs and that of humiliation besides, for there was no doubt she was humiliated. She loved Bertie. She had determined to from the beginning and it had not been difficult, for Bertie was always so charming to her. She had now to face the fact that Bertie could never love one person wholeheartedly. Bertie’s restricted childhood had resulted in a feverish desire to catch up with the good things of which he had been deprived for so long; and Bertie’s idea of the best in life did not agree with Alix’s. She liked the occasional ball, the banquet; she liked wearing her beautiful clothes and she enjoyed the admiration which had come her way since she had been Princess of Wales; but in her heart she knew that the really important things in life were not to be found at glittering balls and magnificent banquets and among friends who gushed admiration, respect and homage. Life in the Yellow Palace had taught her that and sometimes she thought sadly of all the simple pleasures of that comparatively humble household and sighed for them. She could find them in some measure in her nursery. The children’s growing dependence on her; the delight with which she was received in the nursery – these were the real joys of life. If only Bertie had agreed with her then they could have begun to build up a real happiness.
