Victoria & Abdul

by Shrabani Basu

  Reid decided it was time to go on the offensive against the Munshi. He wanted to show the Queen that Karim was resented not only by her Household, but by his own people as well. He prepared a nine-point dossier on him.1

  The list of complaints included the fact that he had visited Rome for one night spending £22, that he had complained to the Queen about the position of his railway carriage from Bologna and that the Queen had given directives to Ponsonby that the Munshi could drive with the gentlemen of the Household on occasions. The Munshi had, moreover, apparently refused to allow other Indians in any part of the same railway carriage as himself and deprived Her Majesty’s maids of the bathroom and insisted on having it entirely reserved for himself.

  Reid also noted that the Queen’s nurse and her dressers, Mrs Boyd and Mrs Keith, said that the Munshi’s wife and mother-in law were ‘more degraded and dirty than the lowest labourers in England; spitting all over the carpets. Performing functions in the sitting room, etc.’

  Another remark, heard by Arthur Bigge in the English Club, was also noted. Bigge reported that he had overheard a conversation about the Munshi where the gentlemen had remarked on his ‘low appearance’ and said that he was a man ‘who in India would have no place anywhere but with menials’. The Englishmen were much astonished at his being with the Queen and surmised as to the meaning of it and who was responsible.

  Reid recorded that when the Munshi had apparently complained to the Queen and to Dosse that the newspapers took too little notice of him, the Queen had responded by immediately sending her dresser, Mrs MacDonald, to Dosse with the command that ‘he was to see that the newspapers took notice of and mentioned the Munshi more frequently!’ The last point revealed more about the Queen than the Munshi.

  Reid may have been peeved with the Munshi for personal reasons as well. A few months previously he had written to the Queen asking for a rise in his salary, saying he was quite overworked as he had to look after not just her health but also that of many of the members of staff and servants. The Queen in her reply made no mention of a salary increase, but told Reid that he should not listen to the constant applications made by the other servants as it would wear him out. She informed him that he still had to look after the Indians, who required him for they had ‘different constitutions’, but they were generally well and probably did not trouble him much anyway.2 The Queen had asked him to reduce his extra duties rather than increase his salary. Reid might have felt irritated by the knowledge that the Queen would have reacted differently had the Munshi asked for something. She always put herself out for the smallest request made by him.

  The problems with the Munshi carried on after the Royal suite left Florence for Coburg. The Queen was to attend the wedding of her granddaughter Victoria Melita of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha with the Grand Duke Ernest Ludwig of Hesse.

  The Duke of Coburg informed Ponsonby that ‘nothing would induce him to allow the Munshi to come to the chapel with the Q’s suite for the wedding’. He instructed Ponsonby to tell the Queen this, putting it, if he wished, ‘on the ground of his religion, if he needed to assign a reason other than the real one’.3 This left the Queen ‘most indignant’ and she did everything she could to get a place for the Munshi with the Household. Negotiations continued for the whole day preceding the wedding and up to the forenoon, but the Duke remained firm. The Queen would not speak to the Duke, her son, personally about it, so the letters and pleas flew through Ponsonby. At last it was arranged that the Munshi would be taken to the gallery in the church by the son of one of the Duke’s gentlemen, the Queen’s condition being that ‘there must be no servants there!’ The Munshi, however, on reaching there, found that he recognised some of the grooms in the balcony. He stalked off in a fury and did not watch the ceremony, writing about it to the Queen who was given the letter after the couple left. She was greatly distressed by the episode and ‘cried a great deal’. The incident became the main source of gossip for the servants and the Household, and Dosse spoke about it to Reid with glee, recalling the ‘discomfiture of the Munshi, but of shame for the Queen’.4

  The matter left the Queen more defiant and eager to protect her Munshi. She took the management of Karim’s position out of Ponsonby’s hands and gave it to Condie Stephen, the private secretary of the Duke of Coburg, with special instructions about how the Munshi was to be treated. Karim was now given his own Royal carriage with a footman on the box, and often had Bambridge sitting on his left. ‘He was also invited to the State concerts etc, and was escorted in by Bambridge, but everyone avoided him,’ recorded Reid in his diary.

  While the Munshi did indeed invite some of the dislike of others by insisting on having pride of place at all events, it must have been fairly lonely and isolating for him to be the only brown man in a sea of white English aristocracy and European Royalty, all of whom made their opposition to him perfectly clear. The only person who stood by him was the Queen, and he in turn remained devoted to her. Every incident of the Household or her family revolting against her beloved Munshi would see the Queen only more determined to protect him.

  Ponsonby, who had borne the brunt of the Coburg melodrama, went on holiday a few weeks later and wrote to Reid: ‘I hope you like your holiday. I do very much and I have been able to forget the Munshi entirely.’

  The campaign against the Munshi was spreading outside the close walls of the Royal family and Household. With leakages to the press and gossip in gentlemen’s clubs, the matter was now beginning to appear in newspaper columns as well. The Munshi had a friend, Rafiuddin Ahmed, a lawyer and a journalist who wrote a piece praising the Munshi and the Queen’s virtue of racial tolerance in the Westminster Gazette. It immediately evinced a response in the letters column:

  Sir, – Rafiuddin Ahmed endeavours to show the cause why a native of India of the lower middle-class should be treated on an equality with the nobility of England. The Queen has an undoubted right to favour whom she likes, but is it not going too far when she expects her guests to associate with a man who is greatly their inferior, in rank at any rate? Perhaps Mr Rafiuddin Ahmed imagines that the unsophisticated and gullible radical believes a Munshi to be a prince or something of that sort in ‘them foreign parts’, but he knows, and I know, the intrinsic value of one in India. Mr Ahmad [sic] is perfectly aware of the fact that if his countryman was at this moment in his native city of Lahore he would most probably be sitting on a high stool in a government office, copying letters, or engaged in some such commendable but scarcely princely task on a stipend of 50s or 100s per mensem at the outside, and that if he ever had the good fortune to attend a Lieutenant-Governor’s levee – leaving out of the question any Viceregal affair – his only means of doing so would be to enlist himself as a table servant.

  I wonder what the Hyderabad nobles would say if the Nizam were to import a Board School assistant – whose position is far above a Munshi’s – and expect them to play Tom, Dick and Harry with him. And the Nizam’s in only a petty State. I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

  Gore Ouseley Notting Hill April 55

  The Munshi was horrified at this public denunciation of his status and let the Queen know how he felt about it. The Queen, ever protective, scratched an angry note to Ponsonby:

  The Queen wrote rather in a hurry when she mentioned to him the stupid ill natured Article or rather letter about the poor good Munshi and she wd. wish to observe that to make out that he is low is really outrageous and in a country like England quite out of place – She has known 2 Archbishops who were the sons respectively of a Butcher and a Grocer … Abdul’s father saw good and honourable service as a Dr. and he (Abdul) feels cut to the heart at being spoken of. It probably comes from some low jealous Indians or Anglo-Indians … The Queen is so sorry for the poor Munshi’s sensitive feelings.6

  Ponsonby wrote wearily to his wife: ‘As long as it was English or European work I got on fairly. But these Injuns are too much for me.’7

  Though aware of the Household’s antagonism to him, th
e Munshi had no idea that a dossier was being prepared on him. The complaints against him kept building up. In June, Ponsonby received a letter from Florence Hammond, a maid in Karim’s household, who said that the Munshi had treated her ‘unfairly’ and that she was anxious to leave his service as soon as possible.8

  Florence said she had agreed to work for the Munshi for £20 a year, a sum less than she had accepted before, but had taken the job after he told her in an interview that it would be increased after the first four months. However, when she reminded him after the period, he said he had no recollection of having said such a thing. She wrote:

  I have to pay my own laundry expenses here, so my salary at the end of the year would amount to about £15 … but the Munshi’s code of honour being such a peculiar one that it not only allows him to break his word, but also open and read all through a letter addressed to me, and as he has also been very rude, I am naturally anxious to leave his house as soon as possible.

  The letter was filed away by Reid as another example of the Munshi’s unacceptable behaviour and unpopularity.

  The Munshi’s high annual expenditure on the maintenance of Frogmore Cottage also became an issue, and the Master of the Household sent a memo to the Lord Chamberlain bringing to his notice the ‘constant charge in excess of the usual expenditure … on the furnishing and maintenance of Frogmore Cottage for the Munshi’. He pointed out that it had been agreed that after the initial expenses of refurbishing, the Munshi’s residence would not cost more than £50 a year and that the housekeeper, Mrs Barnes, would receive £6 per annum for looking after it whenever Karim and his family were away.9 This, however, was being clearly exceeded by the Munshi, who had spared no expense in redecorating his house and maintaining it at a high cost. He lived in style, decorating his house with exotic Indian artefacts and the numerous gifts that he had received from Royal visitors.

  To the Queen, nevertheless, the Munshi remained faultless. She was delighted to receive his birthday card on 24 May 1894 and marveled at how well his English had come along. He had written:

  Munshi Abdul Karim presents his humble duty to your Majesty and humbly offers my best wishes for this day. I and my family pray for your Majesty’s long life and happiness. They hope they will be able to see many many returns of this day.

  I am your Majesty’s most humble and obedient servant,

  M. H Abdul Karim.

  There were no spelling errors in the card. Either the Munshi’s English had improved remarkably or he had a little help from his friend Rafiuddin in drafting the letter.

  In August 1894 the Court Circular of The Times noted that Karim was invited in the Royal circle for a dinner party thrown in Osborne for the German Emperor, attended by the Prince of Wales, the Duke and Duchess of Connaught and several other dignitaries.

  That October in Balmoral, Dr Reid found himself spending most of his time attending on the Munshi’s wife. It wasn’t easy for the doctor to treat the lady who remained in purdah. He recorded how he had felt her pulse for the first time, ‘she being covered up in bed with hand projecting!’10 For nearly three weeks the doctor walked to Karim Cottage twice a day to see her and reported later that she was finally improving. The Munshi’s wife had a nurse in constant attendance. Reid also learnt from Alexander Profeit that the Munshi planned to publish two volumes of his memoirs in January the following year. He spoke immediately to Harriet Phipps about it, both of them agreeing that it ‘must somehow be prevented’. The fact that no such volume was published meant the Household managed to successfully kill the project.

  The Queen was a great letter writer. She liked to send written instructions to members of her Household and insisted that they write to her as well. All this meant a lot of paperwork for the Household, but they had no choice. She wrote regularly to the Viceroy, the Secretary of State for India and her extended family. Sitting at her desk – whether it was the brass-edged one in her sitting room which was always cluttered with innumerable trinkets, photos and memorabilia, or the field table under a tent in the gardens – the tiny figure of the elderly Queen could be seen writing endless letters on her black-lined notepaper, underlining some words for emphasis. Her plump fingers would move agitatedly over the paper when she was angry or upset, the rings and bracelets that she always wore glittering as she worked late into the night. She would never go to bed without completing her boxes and often worked for two hours after dinner. Sometimes she would sit late at night and look at the family photographs and those of her Indian servants, and arrange them in the velvet-lined albums. Her favourite was the blue velvet album with gold embossing in which she kept hand-coloured photographs of her Indians.

  Over the years, the eyes grew dim and the handwriting virtually illegible, but her enthusiasm for letter-writing never ceased. Helping her with her papers, Karim became a letter-writer himself. He wrote regularly to the Queen and never missed congratulating her for a happy event in her life. Sometimes he would send her an ode, composed by an Urdu poet in India. When he travelled to India on holiday, he wrote to her every day, updating her on all developments.

  When a boy was born to the Duke of York, Karim wrote the same night:

  Munshi Abdul Karim presents his humble duty to your Majesty and beg [sic] to inform your Majesty that I am extremely pleased to hear this delightful news that the HRH Duchess of York safely delivered of a son tonight. I beg to offer my best congratulations to your Majesty for your Majesty’s great grand child.

  Also my wife and mother-in-law beg to offer their congratulations. They are so pleased to hear this good news. We all pray that God will grant this child long life, and all the happiness to his parents.

  I am your Majesty’s

  Most humble and obedient servant

  M.H. Abdul Karim11

  That year, Karim decided to send a Christmas card to Lord Elgin, who had taken over as the Viceroy of India. He had had the privilege of meeting him at Balmoral the previous year when he came to call on the Queen. Little did Karim know that the card was going to cause a flutter. Karim wrote:

  My dear Lord, Your Lordship was pleased to show me much kindness during my interview with you here last year. I hope your Lordship and Lady Elgin are quite well and have enjoyed your visit to the North Western Frontier of India.

  I take the liberty of enclosing a Christmas Card, with best wishes for a happy new year and hope the same will meet your gracious acceptance.

  With best respects,

  I am your Lordship’s,

  Very faithfully,

  M.H. Abdul Karim.

  The card had a handwritten poem which the Viceroy considered most inappropriate. It read:

  Flow’ers

  Fair as the

  Morning light

  Wake for you

  Tho’ the earth

  be white,

  With hearts

  Of gold,

  And a breath of May,

  And a wish from

  My heart to yours

  To day

  The poem was by Ellis Walton and the inscription from Karim read: ‘To Wish you a Happy Christmas, from M.H. Abdul Karim, Windsor Castle.’12

  The Munshi had no idea that he had overstepped the limits of propriety. He informed the Queen that he had sent a Christmas card and she made enquiries about whether the Viceroy had liked the card, much to the embarrassment of officials at Whitehall, as Lord Elgin firmly refused to acknowledge it.

  Meanwhile, there had been a change of guard in the Queen’s Household. Henry Ponsonby had fallen seriously ill over the winter and Arthur Bigge had taken over as acting private secretary to the Queen. Bigge had never taken kindly to the Munshi and had already had a row with the Queen when she had suggested he be allowed to ride in the same carriage as the gentlemen of the Household. Henry Ponsonby’s son, twenty-seven-year-old Frederick (Fritz) Ponsonby, had recently returned from India (where he had been ADC to the Viceroy Lord Elgin) to join the Household as junior equerry to the Queen.

  Fritz Po
nsonby, too, had had a bruising Munshi experience. He had gone into the Queen’s black book after arguing with her over the official position of the Munshi’s father in India. In 1894, when Fritz was still in India, the Queen had asked him to go and see the Munshi’s father, the ‘Surgeon General’ in Agra. He called on Dr Wuzeeruddin and found that he was not the ‘Surgeon General’, but an ‘apothecary at the jail’, and repeated this to the Queen when he met her in London. The Queen ‘stoutly denied’ it and dismissed him saying he must have ‘seen the wrong man’.13 Fritz continued to insist that he was right. The Queen did not forgive him for several years, such was her passion for the Munshi and his family. She largely ignored him and did not invite him for dinner for a year. Both Bigge and Fritz Ponsonby now became part of the vocal anti-Munshi camp in the Household.

  It fell to Fritz Ponsonby to find out about the fate of the Munshi’s Christmas card to Lord Elgin. The junior equerry wrote to the Viceroy. The letter reveals how tangled the politics could get over something as simple as a Christmas card:

  The Queen has sent to me and asked me to find out whether you had received the Xmas card from the Munshi. I thought this an excellent opportunity of telling her myself all about the Munshi, but Bigge, Edwardes and others strongly opposed my doing so as they thought that the Queen would be angry at messages being sent through me, that she would not listen to what I had to say and that it would take away from the effect of your letter.

  The Queen’s message to me was that I might find out through anyone on the staff or write straight to you so that if you think it best Babington Smith [personal secretary to the Viceroy] or Durand [also personal secretary to the Viceroy] could write to me a letter that I might show.