by The Laird o’Thistle
March 20 2005
One of the longtime stock-in-trade claims for imposters and delusional people alike has been to claim that they are the lost heirs to this or that royal or noble house. The best-known instances in recent times have been those claimants to the Romanov dynasty like Anna Anderson, who claimed to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia, and a lesser known gent who claimed to be the Tsarevitch Alexi. Earlier instances included a famous nineteenth century chap who put himself forward as the lost French Dauphin, the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. And then there were the Sobieski-Stuarts, who claimed to be the descendants of Bonnie Prince Charlie as they traveled about Scotland in the early 19th century.
On the other hand, some rather indiscrete questions continually circulate concerning the parentage of various figures in or near royal circles. Recently a claim has surfaced that the late King Olav of Norway was actually the offspring of his mother’s British physician. There is also the question of whether a certain British actor was in fact the son of the late Duke of Windsor? (There is an uncanny resemblance, and the then Prince of Wales did keep company with his mum around the time he was conceived.) And of current interest is the question of whether or not the soon-to-be Duchess of Cornwall is in fact a great-granddaughter of Edward VII?
The news item this last week on the “bidding war” for an album containing a few locks of Queen Victoria’s hair, preserved by her childhood governess, points to the benefits and dangers of our brave new world of genetic science to confirm truths we may (or may not) want to pursue. Two of the bidders in this contest wanted the hair so that they could pursue DNA testing to show that they were descended (in the first case) from Victoria’s German relatives, or (in the second case) that they were connected via the Romanovs. Those who follow such news will remember that it was through DNA testing that the remains of Nicholas II and his family were identified a few years ago.
If I had the access to Victoria’s hair, the test I would do would be to show that she was indeed a member of George III’s family. Questions have been raised as to whether she was indeed the daughter of Edward, Duke of Kent, mostly because of the quandary of where she acquired the hemophilia gene that she passed to various family members. (Though I cannot understand how anyone who has looked at portraits of both Prince Edward and Victoria could doubt that she was his daughter.) But here is where the cautionary tale becomes pointed, for if Victoria were proved illegitimate the U.K. might suddenly be faced with the prospect of “King” Ernst August coming over to found the second Hanoverian dynasty! Maybe some questions are best left alone.
And speaking questions best left alone, the brouhaha surrounding Prince Charles’ wedding next month has brought to mind another controversial romance, and its great unresolved question, from Victorian times. The 2003 publication of the diary of Lewis Harcourt, a 19th century politician, revealed an entry saying that the Rev. Norman MacLeod – the Queen’s Scottish Presbyterian chaplain – confessed on his deathbed to having performed a secret marriage ceremony for Queen Victoria and her Highland Servant, John Brown. Harcourt further reported that MacLeod had regretted the action the rest of his days. Scholars are divided on what to think of this report.
Now I cannot vouch for Harcourt, but I can say that the Rev. Mr. MacLeod was a distinguished leader of the Church of Scotland who served as its Moderator of the General Assembly – the highest office in the Kirk – in 1869, and died in 1872 during the height of the Brown era. (He was also the grandfather of the late Rev. George MacLeod – a.k.a. Lord Macleod of Iona – who founded the internationally renowned Iona Community in the 1930s, and later served as Moderator of the Kirk himself.) If Harcourt was truthful in his reporting, I have no doubts about MacLeod. One wonders if the secret of the Brown wedding was one of the things Victoria’s daughter Beatrice “expurgated” from her mother’s diaries when she recopied them in later years.
So, putting 2 + 2 together to get 5, my mind reels a bit at the thought of two descendants of “Mrs. Brown” – one for sure, one possible – wandering the hills around Birkhall in April, covering the very ground where Victoria and her “Highland Servant” may have once enjoyed their own honeymoon trysts. Will a sprig of heather from the wedding bouquet mysteriously turn up on John Brown’s grave on April 9? It would be a nice gesture of solidarity.
Yours aye,
– Ken Cuthbertson