Victoria & Abdul

by Shrabani Basu

  Miss Phipps, who is a sort of confidential secretary to the Queen, tells me that Lord Harris and Lord Wenlock returned the Xmas cards at least the Queen told her so. This makes it rather more difficult.

  I only see the Queen after dinner when she chooses to send for me so that really I have no opportunity of talking to her. I am certain that if the facts of the case were explained to her by you she would understand.14

  Fritz Ponsonby’s plea was answered. A letter duly arrived from the Viceroy’s office from his private secretary, A. Durand. It declared that the Viceroy had received the Christmas card and did ‘not imagine that any acknowledgment was necessary, or that the Queen would expect him to send one’. He also stated that he need scarcely point out ‘how impossible it would be for an Indian Viceroy to enter into correspondence of this kind’.15 The matter simmered for a while, the Viceroy thinking that he should update an official of the India Office at Whitehall about the episode in case the Queen ever raised it again. Tearing himself away from matters of Indian administration, Elgin wrote to Henry Fowler, Secretary of State for India.

  Dear Mr Fowler,

  I asked Gadley to mention to you some time ago that I had received a Xmas card from the Queen’s Munshi with a covering letter, and that I did not intend to answer, but had asked young Ponsonby, who had been my A.D.C., to say if asked, that I had received it.

  I now enclose some correspondence from which you will see that H.M. is somewhat persistent and I ought to add that in a letter to Lady Elgin she enquired if I had received the card. I am quite ready to write myself if it will do any good. I am, however inclined to doubt it. H.M. would scarcely give up one of her favourite attendants because of anything I could say – and unless she did so little good would result.

  If she writes to me direct, not being satisfied with the reply sent through Ponsonby I suppose I should have to speak out plainly, and it is in case this happens that I mention these circumstances – because I should be glad to know the position you and Rosebery [prime Minister] have taken up and be then guided in my own.

  Sincerely, Elgin.16

  Though the Queen would have got an inkling of the Viceroy’s reaction to the card from the letter sent by his private secretary, she did not let the Munshi know about these. He remained blissfully unaware that his card had caused such a furore and had been sent back to Whitehall, where it lay in a government file marked ‘Confidential’.

  He celebrated the wedding of Princess Alice (Alix) to the Tsar of Russia in November and sent a wedding present which was personally acknowledged by the Tsar from St Petersburg: ‘The Empress and I express our sincerest thanks for your wedding gift – Nicolas.’17

  As the year drew to a close, Karim made one of the first of his personal entries in Urdu at the end of the Queen’s Hindustani Journal:

  I owe gratitude to God that this auspicious year ended on an extremely happy note and, compared with all previous years, many more happy and memorable occasions took place in it. Firstly, the visit of Her Majesty to Coburg for attending the marriage of Victoria Melita of Saxe Coburg Gotha and Grand Duke Ernest Ludwig of Hesse, and fixing of another marriage there itself, that of Princess Alice (Alix) of Hesse as Tsarevich of Russia which took place with great pomp and show on 26th of November 94. Secondly, the birth of the dear son of the Duke of York. The marriage that took place on 26th November this year occasioned the greatest joy as it led to more love between England and Russia. Her Majesty enjoyed good health in all respects, with the exception of some problem in hearing. But she did not change any of her daily routines and continued writing and reading of Hindustani which is evident from this book. Hence, I conclude this writing with the prayer that Allah may give Her Majesty as long age as that of Noah. Amen! Amen again!

  Humbly Abdul Karim.

  It was as if the Queen and Karim had passed the year celebrating births and marriages, the politics of the Court leaving them untouched.

  On New Year’s Day, the Queen began her eighth Hindustani Journal. ‘This is my eighth Hindustani lesson book which I began to keep and which I hope to complete happily,’18 she wrote in Urdu.

  9

  THE HOUSEHOLD CONSPIRES

  Knowing that the Queen would stand up for her Munshi at all costs, the Household and some members of the Royal family now began trying to discredit him for his association with fellow Muslim, Rafiuddin Ahmed. Ministers of the Crown and government officials soon became suspicious as well. Rumours were circulating that Rafiuddin had links to radical Muslim groups in Afghanistan and was a spy for the Amir of Afghanistan. Rafiuddin had surfaced in British politics in December 1892 as a journalist and a barrister. Born in 1865 in India and educated at the Deccan College, Poona (present-day Puné), he had travelled to London to study law at King’s College. After a stint at the Middle Temple he was called to the Bar in 1892. He was a member of the Muslim League, a political organisation in India, and published several articles in the Strand Magazine, Pall Mall Gazette and Black and White.

  An ambitious man, Rafiuddin had befriended Abdul Karim and through him won access to Queen Victoria. Through her offices and with the help of Karim, he had met the Lord Chancellor. He had managed to charm Victoria who gave him an example of her Hindustani Journal and a photograph of herself, which he published in the Strand Magazine in December 1892. The article praised the Queen for finding time to learn an oriental language and for making so much progress in the past three years that she could write a separate diary in the Hindustani language.

  ‘For the first time in the history of Europe a Sovereign of a Great Power has devoted herself seriously to the literature of the Orient,’1 wrote Rafiuddin Ahmed, describing how the Queen never failed to write her Hindustani diary no matter how much she was under pressure from work or personal anxieties and sorrows. The Queen, pleased with the young man, commissioned Swoboda to paint his portrait. When Britain was having difficulties with Turkey, she sent him as an ambassador to the Turkish Sultan, Abdul Hamid. She even recommended to the Foreign Office that he be appointed to the British Embassy in Constantinople and requested that the Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury, meet him, writing: ‘I hear that Rafiuddin Ahmed is most anxious to see you. You know how serious for us in India wd. be injustice or supposed injustice on our part towards the Moslems, for I have more Mohammedan subjects than the Sultan. Pray see him as soon as you can.’2

  The British establishment believed that Rafiuddin could be encouraging disenchanted elements in India in the freedom struggle. Discreet enquiries led to a report from the office of Charles A. Bayley, of the Thugee and Dacoity Department in India, who suggested that Rafiuddin may have been an informer who relayed messages to a contact in Calcutta, who forwarded it through various channels to the Amir in Kabul.

  In April last, Sir A. Martin informed Mr Clarke, Assistant secretary in the Foreign Department, that Sardar Nasrulla Khan, when in England made an arrangement with Mr Rafiu-d-din of Gray’s Inn, studying as a barrister, to forward information to Ghulam Miyyu-d-din of Bulbul Bazaar, Calcutta, who is general recipient in India of information for the Amir to whom it is forwarded through Abdu-r-Rauf Khan, Kotwal of Kabul, by whom in turn it is delivered over to H.H [His Highness]. Some of the most extraordinary stories thus find their way from English palaces to the Kabul court, and the dish, always more or less spicy, is obviously prepared to suit the assumed taste of the recipient. Hatred of everything English inspires the writer of these productions, who is well known to the Secret Police as a gentleman who is believed to make a good thing of trading on his friendship with the Queen’s Munshi.3

  The Household feared that the Queen was showing the Munshi her confidential papers from India and he was passing the information to Rafiuddin. Everything that the Munshi did was now closely observed and Rafiuddin’s movements monitored. When Karim received an application from Messrs Nuthoo Ram and Sons of Agra to get the license ‘By Special Appointment’ for their shop, and forwarded it to Lord Carrington, the Lord Chamberlain, it was met with s
uspicion. After consultations, it was decided that it ought not to be allowed as it would ‘strengthen the Munshi’s position in India and give Rafiuddin and Co increased opportunities’.4 Officials concluded that the Munshi had written directly to the Lord Chamberlain, instead of taking it up with Ponsonby, because he may have thought he ‘would get round the thing without any communication with us’.

  Fritz Ponsonby, who had been sidelined by the Queen over the issue of the exact rank of the Munshi’s father, was one of the lead players in the move to discredit Karim. The young Ponsonby had not inherited his father’s patience or diplomatic skills. A former Etonian and an officer in the Grenadier Guards, Ponsonby had enjoyed his term in India and wanted to serve in the North-West Provinces, but he had been somewhat reluctantly recalled to England. His father’s illness meant he had to take on the job of assistant personal secretary to the Queen and come into direct contact with Karim. Ponsonby went quickly on the offensive and wrote a long and confidential note to his former boss, the Viceroy, updating him on the affairs of the Munshi. He informed him that not only was the Household ranked against the Munshi, but also the Royal family, including Princess Louise, Princess Beatrice and Prince Henry, disliked his position in Court. They had all spoken to the Queen about it and Lord Rosebery and Fowler had done their best to explain to her the state of affairs, but she would not listen to any of them and it was useless to try.

  ‘The Munshi occupies very much the same position as John Brown used to,’ wrote Ponsonby. He also informed the Viceroy that both his and Lady Elgin’s letters were apparently given to the Munshi to read and that he retailed all the news back to India. Ponsonby said there had been two rows in the Household lately, one when Edwards refused to go to tea with the Munshi and the other when Dr Reid refused to take the Munshi’s father round the hospitals in London. In both cases the Queen refused to listen to what they had to say but was very angry, ‘so as you see the Munshi is a sort of pet like a dog or cat which the Queen will not willingly give up’.

  Ponsonby urged the Viceroy to explain to the Queen that it was not sensible to elevate the Munshi to the position of confidential adviser and also explain to her the feelings in India with regard to him, as this may be the only thing that would work. He informed the Viceroy that the Munshi took ‘a very prominent part’ at the tableaux and that a seat in the audience next to the lady-in-waiting (much to her disgust) was reserved for him by order of the Queen. ‘The Khitmadgar on duty helps the Queen to walk into dinner and even into chapel here so you will see how great is her opinion of all the natives here,’ wrote Ponsonby. ‘I have now got to think it lucky that the Munshi’s sweeper does not dine with us.’5

  Ponsonby had fired the first salvos against the Munshi directly to the Viceroy’s office. Elgin, already annoyed by the Christmas card fiasco, lent him a sympathetic ear. His dislike of the Munshi was further cemented when he received a letter from Mr Gadley at the India Office in Whitehall, who warned him that his letters to the Queen were likely to be read by Karim. Gadley said that Elgin had been perfectly right in declining to write to the Queen about the Christmas card.

  Gadley informed Elgin that Fowler had suggested he ‘take note of the fact that the Queen does show your letter to this gentleman’, and that he should be careful as to what he put into them. He told him that Crosthwaite had been telling him some curious things about the Queen’s correspondence with the Munshi, specimens of which he appeared to have seen. ‘I suppose you know the sort of thing,’6 warned Gadley.

  A week later he wrote another letter to Elgin at the request of Fowler. He said that it was Mr Fowler’s opinion that the matter was not serious. ‘The position which this gentleman occupies is … tiresome, and makes care and caution necessary, but he Mr Fowler, does not regard it as anything worse than this,’ wrote Gadley. ‘Of course, those who correspond with the Queen on Indian matters must reckon with the fact that he will probably see their letters. This is a bore, but if you and the Secretary of State know it beforehand, you can write accordingly.’7

  Though Fowler had dismissed the Munshi as more of an irritant than an actual danger, the Household remained unconvinced. The Munshi himself had the highest regard for Fowler and decribed him in his Journal as ‘one of the truest and strongest statesmen of England who have helped to build up the Empire’. Members of the Royal family, like the Prince of Wales, Princess Beatrice and Princess Louise, were also up in arms against him. None dared tell their mother about him, so they put pressure on the Household and ministers. Their ire at the Munshi was understandable. The Queen never failed to tick off her children if she felt they had not been courteous to Karim. She wrote a stern letter to her granddaughter-in-law, Princess May, wife of George, Duke of York, after receiving a complaint from the Munshi that the couple had not acknowledged a present sent to them for their baby in the proper way. The Queen wrote angrily:

  The Munshi told me that he had heard from one of your gentlemen that the Indian gentleman who had sent this present to the Baby was to be thanked by the Secretary of State. This upset him a good deal, and I must say with right for it was a private present sent through his father, who is the intimate friend of the Indian gentleman who would otherwise not have offered it &, who sent it to me for the little boy through the Munshi’s father, & the Munshi himself. Therefore, to have this private present thanked for, ignoring the person who was charged to send it would be a great offence.

  She commanded the young Royals to have a letter written in their names and sent directly to her the very next day. ‘I am sure you and Georgie will at once see that this is no state affair and would only hurt my good Munshi and his worthy father very much if they were ignored,’8 she wrote.

  Under the close scrutiny of everybody, the Munshi sailed with the Queen for her annual spring holiday to Europe. This year the destination was Nice. The Queen was returning to the French Riviera. The Pall Mall Gazette noted that the Queen’s servants, horses, carriages, plates, household linen, furniture for her bedroom and other heavy luggage were sent ahead by special trains from Calais. A private telegraph office was also fitted up in the hotel for the Queen’s house and separate quarters were arranged for the Indian attendants. A kitchen was to be built especially for the Indians in the grounds of the hotel. The Queen would always see to it that every need of the Indian attendants was met.

  In an article titled ‘Royalty at the Battle of Flowers’, a local newspaper reported:

  Nice, March 21:

  The 1st Battle of Flowers of the season took place today and was one of the most superb known for many years.

  The English royalties arrived at three o’clock … and the Munchi [sic] in a carriage by himself. All took up their positions in a specially prepared tribune and joined the fight at 3.30. The Queen watched for one hour and many flowers were thrown to her.9

  The Battle of Flowers held on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice was one of the Queen’s favourite festivals. As young army officers in the crowds threw bouquets at her, she threw them back with enthusiasm. She also had her own bunch of flowers supplied by the Mayor of Nice and threw them at the crowds. She rode in her carriage to the nearby Villa Liserb where she saw two Indian jugglers ‘perform some very clever tricks’ and was ‘very pleased’. The Munshi immediately arranged that they visit London and attend the Empire Exhibition, which was to be held in Earl’s Court in summer. He recorded in his Journal:

  How strangely sometimes is the fate of man wrought out. Failure or success, misfortune or good fortune often seems a matter of pure accident. Events which we never thought or even dreamt of happen to us and cause us to wonder at the wonderful ways God makes use of in working out his purposes. This thought came to my mind as I considered the wonderful good fortune that happened to some Indian jugglers who chanced to be in Nice while Her Majesty was there. When Her Majesty came to hear of them she sent a request to have them brought before her to exhibit their tricks. The Queen was highly amused and delighted and the honour which was given to t
hese poor jugglers must have made them happy for life.

  When the Queen returned to her villa, there was slight excitement as there was an outbreak of a fire in the chimney of the apartment occupied by the Munshi. However, following the prompt action by Monsieur Paoli, Mr Greenham, the servants of the Household and the hotel attendants, the outbreak was quickly extinguished without damage. Reports of the fire were sent out by Reuters news agency and picked up by newspapers around Britain and France.

  The Munshi enjoyed the trips to the Riviera and the special attention he inevitably attracted. Always prickly about his status vis-à-vis the other Indian attendants, he had been upset when a local newspaper wrote that he had helped the Queen out of her carriage and conveyed his hurt to the Queen. The Galignani Messenger immediately carried a clarification of the Munshi’s position:

  By telegraphic error it was made to appear that the Munshi assisted the Queen from her carriage on her arrival at Nice, which was of course not the case, as Her Majesty is always assisted by an Indian servant. The Munshi, as a learned man and the Queen’s Indian Secretary and preceptor in Hindustani, is one of the most important personages ‘auprès de la Reine’ having several men under him, and being often privileged to dine with his Royal Mistress and pupil.10

  A few weeks later, much to the Munshi’s delight, there was a piece on him in the local French newspaper complete with a sketch of his. The French called him ‘Le Munchy’ and described him as ‘le professor de la reine’ (the Queen’s teacher).11 He was also described as being in charge of Her Majesty’s correspondence and classifying her documents on Indian affairs. The article said that his qualities had made the Queen appoint him her Indian Secretary and that he had been chosen because he could be trusted and relied upon.