The Widow of Windsor

Chapter IX JOHN BROWN COMES SOUTH

The Queen was scarcely ever in London and the people were getting restive. Surely it was the duty of the Sovereign to show herself now and then? The Queen retorted, when her ministers reproached her, that she worked unceasingly for the good of the country and she could not see how her parading in public did her subjects any good.

But even she was taken aback when several notices were stuck on the walls of Buckingham Palace announcing:

These premises to be let or sold in consequence of the late occupants declining business.’

Lord Palmerston laughed when he heard of it; but the Queen, who was at Osborne, was angry.

If people thought they were going to bring her out of retirement they were very much mistaken. She was a widow, and she was going on mourning for her husband; and during periods of mourning widows did not appear in public dressed in elaborate garments and sparkling with jewels.

Lord Palmerston shrugged his shoulders. ‘We have to continue to be grateful to the Prince and Princess of Wales,’ he said, ‘who have taken over so many of Your Majesty’s duties.’

‘Duties!’ she snapped. ‘Racing? Gambling? Mixing in questionable society?’

‘Oh, the people don’t hold that against the Prince,’ was Palmerston’s comment.

The Queen summoned her physician, Dr Jenner. The people must be made to understand that she was in no fit condition to parade in public. They must be made to have some understanding of a widow’s grief.

Dr Jenner gently suggested that it was more than two years since the Prince Consort’s death. Perhaps if she tried to emerge a little she would feel better for it.

She turned on him furiously. ‘Do you imagine that I shall ever feel better about my loss?’

Dr Jenner was silent, but he did think that if the Queen would try to get out more, ride more often, perhaps sit out of doors sketching, as she used to, it would be beneficial to her health.

‘Everything reminds me too much of him,’ she said.

A notice appeared in The Times to the effect that she would, as she always had done, perform her duty towards the State. More than that the Queen could not do.

But the people were not satisfied. What was the use of a Queen who was never seen? Rumours began to be circulated. Had she gone mad? Wasn’t there madness in the family? Was that why it was necessary for her to remain in seclusion?

It is not good, repeated Lord Palmerston warningly, for a Sovereign to hide himself – or herself – from the people.

Uncle Leopold, ageing though he was and finding it very difficult to totter about his palace because his rheumatism, so long imagined, had now become a reality, his cheeks painted to a healthy pink, a wig of luxuriously made curls on his head, could not resist adding his warning.

It seemed to him, he said, that the Prince of Wales was already King. He heard that wherever he and the Princess went they were cheered wildly.

This so incensed the Queen that she did agree to come to London and ride through the streets in an open carriage. It was amazing how many people came out to see her pass. There she sat bowing to them, acknowledging their greetings, which were vociferous, but wearing her black robes and widow’s cap to remind them that she was still in mourning for the wonderful man whom they no less than herself had lost.

‘I am sure,’ she said with satisfaction to Lord Palmerston, ‘that the Prince and Princess of Wales have never had a reception like that.’

Palmerston bowed. ‘Your Majesty will, I have no doubt, give your subjects more opportunities of displaying their loyalty.’

But soon she was back at Osborne, reading her diaries and going over every little detail in the house he had planned and looking forward to the time when she would go up to dear Balmoral where there were even more memories of him.

Alix was agitating to go to Denmark to see her family. She explained it to Bertie who was wonderfully sympathetic. She wanted to show her parents little Eddy, which was the name by which the new baby was known. Victor seeming strange somehow and he couldn’t be Bertie because of his father, and to call him plain Albert might seem like sacrilege; Christian was too foreign for the English and Edward was too solemn for such a scrap, so Eddy was the answer. Not only did she wish them to see the baby but she also wanted to explain to them that she had done her best for them, that it was not her fault that England had been so perfidious and left them to the mercy of the Prussians and the Austrians.

‘Go to Denmark!’ cried the Queen. ‘That would be most unwise.’

Alix could be very stubborn. ‘She doesn’t understand, Bertie. They are my family. And I love them … dearly. You can’t understand what it was like to have a kind good father and a mother who loved you tenderly. I must see them now. Imagine how they will be suffering.’

Bertie understood. He said he would stand firm and insist. After all he was of age. He was not going to allow his mother to treat him as a boy in the nursery even though she was the Queen.

On this occasion Bertie did rouse himself; he was rather worried about Alix, who had grown very thin and was clearly not the carefree girl he had married. He was genuinely fond of her and made up his mind to do his best for her, and so insistent was he that the Queen, with some reluctance, agreed to the trip.

She confided to her acting secretary, General Grey, that Bertie was inclined to be indiscreet and General Knollys, who had been appointed his governor after General Bruce had died, did not always appear to have the necessary control over him. There had been the affair of Garibaldi whom Bertie had met when he had come to England in April. Bertie did not seem to understand his position and the fact that he made a point of meeting the Italian leader could be construed as British approval of his methods. Bertie was indeed very rash and had defended Garibaldi as a patriot who was not in the least like a revolutionary. How foolish Bertie could be! He had to learn the rule of Royalty; they stood together and this was particularly important in a world which had so recently been shaken by revolution.

Now he wanted to go to Denmark at such a difficult time. And of course if it were known that Alix wished to visit her family to introduce her father to his new grandson and that the Queen had refused to allow this, there would be an outcry. People never understood; they confused family relationships with those of the State.

She sent for Bertie. She would agree to the visit. But there must be conditions. For instance what would their German relations think if he went to Denmark, the enemy with whom they were so recently at war? He must remember that little Eddy was an heir to the throne and he must therefore not be out of the country for more than three weeks. He must not forget also to visit his German relations; he must make it perfectly clear that he was not only the son-in-law of the King of Denmark but also the son of Albert and Victoria.

‘That is something I am not likely to forget, Mama,’ said Bertie with a twinkle in his eye which was disturbing because he could smile when he mentioned his father’s name.

So in September Bertie and Alix set off in the royal yacht Osborne with their baby and a very small party which included Lord and Lady Spencer, Sir William Knollys and two doctors, for little Eddy was still very frail.

The Queen had taken the precaution of commanding General Grey to write to Sir Augustus Paget, the British ambassador in Denmark, to keep an eye on the Prince of Wales, lest he be guilty of indiscretion. She wished the ambassador to know that this was the worst possible time for such a visit and she deplored it but she had forced herself to understand the natural desire of a daughter to see her parents, particularly after she had recently given birth to their grandchild.

Bertie was prepared to have a good time in Denmark and it did not occur to him that he might not be welcome. He was soon made to realise that although he was Alix’s husband he was also the Prince of Wales, the future King of a country which Denmark considered had deserted it in its hour of need; he was regarded with suspicion and the cheers were all for Alix. But Bertie’s greatest gift was his convivial spirit; after his lack of popularity with his parents he had been astonished when he had first discovered public response to his temperament; now he had come to regard it as a matter of course. It did not occur to him that the people should not like him; and very soon they saw his point of view, for it was indeed impossible not to like this young man. He was undistinguished in appearance but seemed the more lovable for that, because really with his rather weak chin and not very tall stature he was charming, and his attention to his wife was gallant and pleasant to behold.

It was not very long before the people of Denmark were cheering the Princess and the Prince of Wales.

They had landed at Elsinore where the King and Queen of Denmark were waiting to meet them. Alix flew into her father’s arms and for some moments would not look at him. Dearest Papa, who had never wanted to be King of Denmark anyway. How he must have suffered! When at last she looked into his face, she saw how he had changed. Anxiety had marked his handsome face. And Mama? Queen Louise had changed less. What a support she must have been through all the tribulations, but she had grown very deaf and could scarcely hear what was said, And there were Fredy and Dagmar – quite a young woman now and good-looking – and Thyra and Valdemar, the whole dear family, except Willy who had become King George of Greece.

‘Alix, my love,’ said her mother, ‘you’ve grown thinner.’

‘I’ve been so worried about you all.’

‘We needed help … badly … and it didn’t come,’ said Louise shortly.

‘Mama, dearest, you must understand that I did everything, just everything I could.’

‘I know you did, my love.’

‘And so did Bertie. There were such quarrels but he did all he could …’

‘We won’t talk of it now, Alix.’

The Burgomaster welcomed the visitors with a speech which might have been a reproach to the Prince of Wales.

‘Abandoned as Denmark is by all the world,’ he said, ‘and crushed by overwhelming superiority, I hope that the visit of our Princess and her husband will be the beginning of brighter days for the country.’

Bertie applauded imperturbably so all accepted the fact that what had happened was no fault of his.

They drove to the royal Palace of Fredensborg, a beautiful residence on the lake of Esrom, which now that Christian was King had fallen to him.

It was a bitter-sweet experience for Alix to be home with her family. There was so much to remind her of the old days and yet how changed it was – how sadly so in spite of the fact Christian and Louise had become King and Queen.

Alix liked to walk in the gardens with Dagmar and talk of the past. But Dagmar wanted to hear about life in England and Alix found herself talking freely. Staying at Fredensborg was the young Czarevitch Nicholas who was courting Dagmar.

Dagmar liked to hear about Alix’s arrival in England and was wondering what hers would be like in Russia. She loved little Eddy and thought it was marvellous that Alix had a baby of her own. So did Alix. She wanted lots of children, she told Dagmar, and to look after them herself so that she had a happy family as theirs used to be in the Yellow Palace.

She was so happy to be there with Bertie. She wished they could stay for ever. Bertie was charming, they all agreed, and the simple life suited Eddy. The countryside was so beautiful and she kept asking Bertie if he didn’t admire this and that. Bertie always said he did but she could see the glazed look in his eyes which meant that his thoughts were elsewhere; and she knew that he found the homely Danish Court very different from Marlborough House. The simple country life was not for him. Where were the practical jokes, the lavish banquets, the racing, the gambling, the flirtatious pretty women? They were lacking, and although he was ready to endure a little of this for Alix’s sake he was longing to go home.

One day one of the men of his suite said to him, ‘Surely there is no place in the world as boring as Fredensborg?’

‘Oh,’ replied the Prince of Wales, ‘haven’t you been to Bernstorff?’

Bertie’s habit of yawning without opening his mouth was of good service to him. ‘Never mind,’ he would say to members of his suite, ‘we’ll soon be home.’

At home the Queen eagerly read accounts of how the Prince and Princess of Wales were being received in Denmark; and because she thought they had been there long enough and she was getting reports of Bertie’s outspokenness with regard to the Prussians towards whom he displayed a venom which almost matched that of his wife, she ordered them to leave at once for Stockholm. There they were to travel incognito and to stay at hotels and afterwards they must on no account omit a visit to their German relations.

Christian and Louise begged to look after little Eddy while they went to Sweden where it was already known that they were to arrive. Therefore the King of Sweden immediately invited them to his palace and treated them as honoured guests. He insisted on taking Bertie on an elk hunt and this was such a grand occasion – after Bertie’s own heart – that it was talked of not only in Sweden but beyond.

At home the Queen was fuming with rage. No sooner did she let Bertie out of her sight than he was in trouble. Had she not clearly said incognito; and there he was staying with the King of Sweden and attending public functions. As for Eddy, she was horrified that he should have been left behind with King Christian and Queen Louise. It was incredible. That child belonged not only to them but also to the nation and if he was not with his parents his place was at Windsor with the Queen. He should be sent back immediately. Lady Spencer could bring him home to Windsor.

Bertie was beginning to realise that he was entitled to have some say in the way he conducted his affairs. He wrote that it was undignified for the heir to the throne to stay at squalid hotels and they were all squalid in Sweden; as for the child, Alix could not bear to be parted from him and after all she was his mother. Surely the Queen would not wish to make Alix wretched and to slight the King of Sweden.

Bertie was getting impossible, said the Queen. In future she would have his orders made very clear before he was allowed to leave England.

On their return to Copenhagen they found that Dagmar had become officially engaged to Nicholas. There were congratulations and great rejoicing. The occasional banquet seemed to the Prince of Wales very meagre, but then of course the Danish royal family had just fought a losing war but he doubted whether they had ever been accustomed to much else. He was amazed that in spite of the humble manner in which she had been brought up, Alix could look as elegant as any woman he had ever seen in any company.

Nicholas invited them to Russia for the wedding.

‘It would be lovely if we could go, Bertie,’ said Alix.

Bertie said they would. He had always wanted to go to Russia.

The two girls spent a great deal of time together discussing weddings and trousseaux. It was so like the old times and if Dagmar had not been as delighted with her grand marriage as Alix had been with hers it would have been heartbreaking.

One day when Alix and Bertie came in from a ride the King said to them: ‘I have a visitor here to see you, Alix. I couldn’t let you leave Copenhagen without seeing him. He would be so upset.’

And there was Hans Christian Andersen bowing and smiling and looking overcome by the honour.

Alix was delighted and began telling Bertie how Hans had come to the Yellow Palace and told them stories and how he used to bring his books to show them when they appeared in foreign editions.

Bertie was gracious as he well knew how to be.

‘The Princess will be telling your stories to our son as soon as he is old enough to understand,’ he said.

With reluctance Alix said good-bye to her family.

The royal yacht sailed away and they came into Kiel harbour into those waters which until this year had been Danish and were now German, and according to nautical custom the Prussian flag was hoisted.

When Alix saw it she turned pale with anger.

‘That flag is to be removed at once,’ she said.

Bertie looked up at it, shrugging his shoulders. It was only courteous to fly the flag of a country when a ship was in its territorial waters, he pointed out.

‘These are Danish waters,’ she retaliated.

‘They were,’ said Bertie sadly.

‘They are,’ she insisted.

‘There’s nothing we can do about it,’ he said.

He was unprepared for her vehemence.

‘There is,’ she said. ‘I shall not leave this yacht until that flag is removed.’

Bertie sent for the Captain and asked him to explain the custom to the Princess of Wales. He left them together. Trust Bertie, she thought sadly, to escape from an unpleasant situation.

The Captain explained that while they were in Prussian waters the flag must fly.

‘It shall not fly,’ she said. ‘They are waiting for me on shore but I shall stay on the yacht until that flag is taken down and you know that.’

The guns were firing their salutes of welcome and the Captain recognised the determination in Alix’s eyes.

He gave orders that the flag should be lowered.

Alix was very uneasy. She thought the Queen should have spared them this. They did not go to Berlin of course. That would have been most unwise, for some of Bertie’s criticisms of the Prussians had been repeated there. Vicky and her husband, however, did have a brief meeting with them at Cologne. It took place on the railway station through which they had arranged to pass at the same time. At least they would satisfy the Queen that they had met.

Vicky was cool and restrained, remembering the unwise things Bertie had said about the Prussians. As for Alix she felt so sick at heart when she thought of her father’s sufferings that she could scarcely bear to look at them, especially as Fritz had come in uniform, wearing medals he had won in the war. It was fortunate that the meeting was so brief.

November had arrived by the time the Osborne brought them back to England. Alix was pregnant again.

While Bertie and Alix were still abroad the Queen had a pleasant surprise.

Her doctor, William Jenner, called on her and asked for her indulgence because after consulting with Sir Charles Phipps, the Keeper of the Privy Purse, he had taken an action which she might well feel he should not have taken.

‘Pray be more explicit,’ said the Queen.

‘We have been concerned for Your Majesty’s health,’ said Jenner, ‘and it is my firm belief that you need more fresh air. When you are at Balmoral you are so much better than you are here and we believe it is because you take more exercise. Now up in Scotland we know that you have a very trusty servant and they are hard to come by. We have taken the liberty of sending for one of your servants whom we trust to take the utmost care of Your Majesty.’

The Queen looked from one to the other in astonishment. That her doctor and the Keeper of her Privy Purse should decide on what servants she should have was incredible. Had they gone mad?

Dr Jenner said: ‘Of course if Your Majesty does not approve, Brown can be sent back without delay.’

‘Brown!’ said the Queen, her voice changing without her realising it.

‘John Brown, M’am, to whom we both feel we can entrust Your Majesty’s safety in the Highlands – so why not in the South as well.’

The Queen smiled. ‘Brown,’ she said, ‘is a very good and faithful servant.’

‘Your Majesty should get out more. He could drive you, or ride with you, as Your Majesty wished.’

‘It is quite a good idea,’ she admitted.

And when they had gone she felt elated. He really was the perfect servant.

Very soon he arrived and she asked that he be brought to her at once.

‘So here you are, Brown,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re going to like the South. I am sure you will find it very interesting.’

‘It’s nae the Highlands,’ said Brown.

‘Of course it is not the Highlands. But I’m very glad to see you here. I hope you are pleased to come.’

‘I’ll nae be knowing that till I’ve tried it,’ said Brown.

How she laughed when she was alone. He was so blunt. Of course he was so faithful, so loyal, no respecter of persons, not even that of the Queen, whom he would guard with his life. Albert had always said that he was the best gillie he had ever had – he and Grant that was, and Grant had been the head gillie.

Albert would be very pleased that she had this good and faithful servant with her at Osborne. After all, Jenner and Phipps were right. Why keep him in Scotland? Why should he not be with her wherever she was.

Everyone was noticing the change in her. She smiled more frequently; those about her were astonished by the calm manner in which she allowed Brown to discard ceremony. She would smile at him, admiring his firm chin. She had always admired firm chins and remembered how she used to study her own in the looking-glass until the Baroness Lehzen reproved her vanity. ‘It’s not vanity,’ she would say. ‘It’s the opposite. I dislike my chin. It’s so weak.’ It was the family chin, of course. Some of her uncles had had it; some of her children had it; so she could not be surprised that she had it. No wonder she admired Brown’s chin.

‘Brown,’ she said one day, ‘one can see you’re an obstinate man, by the way in which your chin juts out. It betrays a firmness of purpose.’

Brown fingered his chin and gave her that look which so amused her because it was half contemptuous, half protective. It made her feel that she was a woman rather than a Queen – a very pleasant feeling at times.

‘Ye manage to be an obstinate woman,’ was his comment, ‘with no chin at all.’

So very funny! ‘Really, Brown, you are amusing.’ She was frequently laughing now. Sometimes she pulled herself up sharply and thought of Albert. Then she would go to her room and read her journals and brood on the past until Brown said that she was looking sickly and he’d saddled Flora and it was time they were riding.

There was no doubt at all – Brown made all the difference.