A Grave Celebration

by Christine Trent

  Although theirs was a love match, Louis-Napoléon was never particularly faithful to her, but this did not stop Eugénie from being perfectly devoted to her husband. He came to trust her implicitly, and she served as regent of France in his absence in 1859, 1865, and 1870. Unfortunately, she could not stop Napoléon’s antagonisms against Austria and Prussia, and in 1871 the French Empire collapsed, with the French royal family fleeing into exile in Kent, England.

  Eugénie maintained good relations with Great Britain after her husband’s death in 1873, and was named godmother to Princess Beatrice’s daughter, Victoria Eugenie of Battenberg.

  Eugénie died while visiting Spain in 1920, age ninety-four, and was buried in the Imperial Crypt at St. Michael’s Abbey in Farnborough, Hampshire, England, with her husband and son.

  It is rather sad to think that, despite all of the outward show of international friendship and cooperation during the Suez Canal ceremonies, Eugénie’s husband would be surrendering his army to Crown Prince Frederick of Prussia in a mere ten months’ time, and that her son would eventually die in British uniform during the Zulu War of 1879.

  Another French luminary in Egypt was Auguste Mariette (1821–1881), a brilliant scholar and Egyptologist who worked tirelessly to explore ancient sites and to prevent their destruction and pilfering.

  In 1860 alone, Mariette set up thirty-five new dig sites, while attempting to conserve existing sites. To the great consternation of the British as well as the Prussians (who were allied with the Ottoman sultan), Mariette had a virtual monopoly on digs in the country, thanks to his good relationship with Isma’il Pasha.

  Unfortunately, that relationship was not always smooth.

  Pasha assumed that all discoveries ranked as royal treasure and were his to dispose of, choosing what went to the museum and what remained in his personal possession. Mariette was constantly rushing to confiscate boatloads of antiquities that had been raided from dig sites for the khedive’s perusal.

  In 1878, Mariette’s museum was ravaged by a flooding of the Nile. Already broken in health and nearly blind, Mariette handpicked his successor to ensure the French would retain the directorship, rather than allow the powerful position to end up in the hands of an Englishman, as by then the British comprised the majority of Egyptologists in Egypt.

  Mariette died in Cairo just shy of his sixtieth birthday. Fittingly, he was interred in a sarcophagus, which is on display in the garden of the Museum in Cairo.

  Crown Prince Frederick of Prussia (1831–1888), later Frederick III, was greatly celebrated in his youth for leadership and successes during the Second Schleswig, Austro-Prussian, and Franco-Prussian wars—an irony given that he professed a hatred of warfare, and was roundly praised by both friends and enemies for his extremely humane conduct.

  He and his wife, Princess Victoria, eldest daughter of Queen Victoria, were well matched, as they were both admirers of Prince Albert’s attitude toward greater representation for commoners in the government. During the twenty-seven years that he spent as crown prince, it was always Frederick’s intent that he and Vicky should rule as consorts as his in-laws had in Great Britain.

  Frederick became emperor on March 9, 1888, and reigned a mere ninety-nine days before succumbing to throat cancer, which had been diagnosed in 1887. Not only was Frederick never able to institute the reforms he had planned for the good of his people, he was succeeded by his son Wilhelm II, a colorless and unpopular leader who led Prussia straight into World War I, with catastrophic and tragic results.

  Another prominent Prussian was Richard Lepsius (1810–1884). An Egyptologist like Mariette, Lepsius is today known as the father of the modern scientific discipline of Egyptology.

  In perhaps his greatest achievement, Lepsius led an expedition, modeled on an earlier Napoleonic mission, to Egypt and Sudan in November 1842 to record the remains of ancient Egyptian civilization. He and his team spent six months at their scientific study, discovering over sixty pyramids and more than 130 tombs.

  The expedition resulted in the publication of a twelve-volume compendium containing nearly nine hundred plates of ancient Egyptian inscriptions, plans, maps, and drawings of temple and tomb walls.

  In 1846 Lepsius was rewarded for his work with a professorship at the Berlin University, and in 1865 was named keeper of the Egyptian antiquities department in the Berlin Museum. He returned to Egypt for a final time in 1869 to witness the inauguration of the Suez Canal, before returning to Berlin and publishing many more works prior to his death on July 10, 1884.

  The story of the treasure thief that Lepsius tells Violet is an actual Egyptian myth.

  One cannot speak of theft without mentioning the Russian diplomat Nikolay Pavlovich Ignatiev (1832–1908), who did indeed run into some trouble when he pocketed (inadvertently, he claimed) a newly developed cartridge while inspecting the British army’s ordnance works. However, most of his military career was stellar.

  Ignatiev was a major by the time of the Crimean War, after which he began his diplomatic career when he participated in negotiations over the demarcation of the border between Russia and the Ottoman empire on the lower Danube River, at the Congress of Paris in 1856.

  He was then military attaché at the Russian embassy in London, where the cartridge incident occurred, making the posting a very short one before he was sent back to Russia. He also served as plenipotentiary to the court of Peking (modern-day Beijing). He managed Chinese fears regarding Anglo-French advances so smoothly and coolly that he ended up obtaining Outer Manchuria for Russia.

  With his success in China, he was made ambassador at Constantinople, a position he occupied from 1864 to 1877. His chief aim was to liberate Christians—chiefly Bulgarians—from Ottoman domination, which he worked mostly through secret channels. He was largely unsuccessful and fell out of favor with Alexander II, but unsurprisingly, he remained immensely popular in Bulgaria, and was at one point even considered for the Bulgarian throne.

  Ignatiev later served under Alexander III as minister of the interior, but was accused of fomenting pogroms against, and suppressing protections for, the Jewish population. He was also suspected of extortion.

  He retired from office in June 1882, and held no influence in public affairs from that point until his death on July 3, 1908. Although I give him the honorific of “General” in the story, Ignatiev was not actually promoted to this rank—specifically, General of the Infantry—until 1878.

  Grand Duke Michael of Russia (1832–1909) was the fourth son and seventh child of Tsar Nicholas I and Charlotte of Prussia. His placement in the succession line virtually assured that he would never be tsar, but he was made governor general of Caucasia, located at the crossroads of Western Asia and Eastern Europe, and bordered on the west by the Black Sea and the east by the Caspian Sea. He remained there for twenty years, from 1862 to 1882, with his wife, Cecily Auguste of Baden (who adopted the name Olga Feodorovna), and their seven children. In fact, four of their children were born there.

  In the course of Michael’s life, four members of his family ruled as emperors of Russia: his father, Nicholas I; his brother, Alexander II; his nephew, Alexander III; and his grandnephew, Nicholas II.

  Michael died in Cannes, France, on December 18, 1909.

  Franz-Josef I of Austria (1830–1916) was emperor of Austria and apostolic king of Hungary from 1848 until his death in 1916. As a young man, he was described as handsome, charming, and courteous. In his later years, he became sober, unimaginative, and withdrawn, particularly in his understanding of royalty and his role as undisputed head of the House of Habsburg. In that role, he would brook no opposition to his royal will.

  The emperor was not a particularly deep thinker, and he dismissed the philosophizing views of his wife, Elisabeth—or Sisi, as she was nicknamed—who was a breathtaking beauty ill-prepared for her life with Franz-Josef when she married him at only sixteen years of age.

  Mocked as the “red-trousered lieutenant” for his love of all things military in
his youth, he regarded the army as the most important pillar of the monarchy. Unfortunately, he was not gifted with an aptitude for strategy, and was more suited to the peacetime activities of military exercises and parades. He adopted military wear as his daily attire and considered punctuality and orderliness to be the highest virtues.

  However, Franz-Josef was also known as a man of integrity and decency, who responded stoically to numerous political and military defeats, as well as to the early death of his daughter Sophie; the execution of his brother Maximilian, the failed emperor of Mexico; the scandalous suicide of his only son, Rudolf; and the 1898 assassination of his wife.

  Franz-Josef’s main foreign policy goal had been the unification of the Germanic states under the House of Habsburg. Unfortunately, his goal proved unattainable on the great European chessboard, and after several conflicts and the machinations of Otto von Bismarck, he found himself losing out on his grand vision to Prussia.

  Interestingly, after Rudolf’s suicide in 1889, Franz-Josef’s heir was Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the son of Archduke Karl Ludwig of Austria. Franz-Josef was unimpressed with Franz Ferdinand, and fought him bitterly over his desire to marry a countess, when established rules stated that only members of reigning or formerly reigning dynasties of Europe could marry into the Imperial House of Habsburg.

  Franz Ferdinand and his wife visited England in the autumn of 1913, spending a week with George V and Queen Mary at Windsor before going to stay for another week with the 6th Duke of Portland at Welbeck Abbey in Nottinghamshire. The 5th Duke of Portland’s strange story features in my previous novel, Death at the Abbey.

  When Franz Ferdinand and his wife were assassinated in Sarajevo in 1914, thus sparking World War I, Franz-Josef was reputed to have told his daughter that he had far greater confidence in his new heir presumptive, his great-nephew Archduke Ferdinand Karl, and that for him, the assassination was “a relief from a great worry.”

  Franz-Josef died of pneumonia at Schönbrunn Palace on November 21, 1916.

  The United States was virtually a nonplayer in the opening of the Suez Canal, although she would become very influential in the twentieth century. However, Thaddeus Mott (1831–1894), a former Union Army officer, was indeed enlisted by Isma’il Pasha to reorganize and train Egypt’s military forces. Because Pasha was subject to the sultan, he had no real authority, nor the right, to request this sort of assistance, and did so through independent agents.

  Mott was an intriguer and adventurer by nature, and thus a perfect fit to help Pasha. He had served in revolutionary Italy under Giuseppe Garibaldi at the tender age of seventeen, was a shipmate on various clipper ships, spent a year in the Mexican Army, and eventually returned to the United States and enlisted in the Union Army. He served in the infantry as well as the cavalry, where he reached the rank of lieutenant colonel.

  Most of the men whom Mott recruited to help him rebuild the Egyptian army and navy had fought on one side or the other during the Civil War, and were graduates of West Point and the Naval Academy. In 1870, Pasha made Mott his first aide-de-camp, and two years later Mott became a Grand Officer of the Imperial Order of the Osmanieh, an Ottoman military decoration.

  However, once his contract with Pasha expired, he left Egypt for Turkey, where he took part in the wars between Serbia, Russia, and the Ottoman Empire.

  By 1876 Mott was in ill health, and by 1879 was forced to retire from military service. He settled with his family in Toulon, France, as an American consular agent, and lived there until his death on November 23, 1894.

  Numerous brilliant and famous figures of the art and literary world were in attendance at the opening ceremonies, including the French writer Théophile Gautier (1811–1872) and Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen (1828–1906).

  Other real figures that feature in the story include Monsignor Bauer (1829–1898), Eugénie’s confessor and deliverer of a dedicatory address at the Suez Canal, as well as Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales (1841–1910), whom I have covered extensively in other novels, and Prince Henry of Holland (1820–1879) along with his sister, Princess Sophie (1824–1897).

  Many of the locations referred to in the story are real. There were separate European and Arab shopping districts set up at Port Said for the opening ceremony attendees. Pasha did have a twenty-thousand-square-foot palace in Ismailia (among many others in Egypt). De Lesseps’s villa in Ismailia is today a guesthouse for visitors of the Suez Canal Authority. Pasha did build a villa just for Empress Eugénie’s use during the ceremonies, while most other visitors stayed in elegantly appointed tents along streets named for various sovereigns.

  Most of the ships referred to are also historically accurate. HMS Newport, as mentioned, was the flagship for the British team, whereas L’Aigle held the French diplomats, and SMS Viribus Unitis was indeed Franz-Josef’s favorite ship. I could not find record of the name of the Russian ship in attendance, but they did frequently name their seacraft for precious gems, hence the name Alexandrite, which seemed appropriate given that the tsar of the time was Alexander II.

  El Mahrousa was personally ordered by Isma’il Pasha and designed by the same British shipbuilding team that designed Queen Victoria’s first steam yacht. Completed in August 1865, the 411-foot, five-floor, ocean worthy vessel was sailed from the River Thames to Alexandria. Empress Eugénie did indeed give a piano to the khedive, which is still on the ship today.

  Interestingly, during the August 2015 inauguration ceremonies, also held in Ismailia, for a major expansion of the Suez Canal, the president of Egypt appeared aboard El Mahrousa.

  I took several liberties with history in creating the plot of this story and making the pieces fit to my satisfaction. First, there is debate as to whether Mariette’s plotting of the opera Aida was actually done to celebrate the opening of the Suez Canal. However, Giuseppe Verdi served as composer for the opera, and the world premiere was finally held at Cairo’s Khedivial Opera House in December 1871, to great acclaim. It has become a standard in opera houses around the world. The modern musical version, with music by Elton John, is also based on Mariette’s original scenario.

  The lumberyard fire next to the fireworks stand at Port Said actually happened, though it occurred a few days earlier than November 16. It suited my purposes more to have it occur during the first night of festivities at Port Said.

  Also, each member country of the delegation, particularly the larger and wealthier nations, typically had more than one ship involved in the flotilla. For example, Great Britain brought along Psyche, Newport, Deerhound, and Rapid. However, for simplicity’s sake, I limited the action to just a few ships. In addition, the ships entered the canal as two different convoys from its southern- and northernmost points, then met at Ismailia. This was too complicated for the plot I was creating, so I have the entire flotilla moving as a single entity from Port Said down to Ismailia. I trust that the astute naval history reader will forgive this compression of details.

  Selected Bibliography

  De Lesseps, Ferdinand. The History of the Suez Canal: A Personal Narrative. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, 1876.

  Egerton, Francis, C. M. Norwood, and William Rathbone. Great Britain, Egypt, and the Suez Canal. London: Chapman and Hall Ltd., 1884.

  Fitzgerald, Percy. The Great Canal at Suez: Its Political, Engineering, and Financial History. London: Tinsley Brothers, 1876.

  Hennebert, E. The English in Egypt: England and the Mahdi, Arabi and the Suez Canal. London: W. H. Allen & Co., 1884.

  Jenkins, Henry Davenport. Instructions for Sailing through the Suez Canal, with Notes on the Navigation of the Gulf of Suez and Red Sea. London: James Imray & Son, 1893.

  Lynch, T. K. A Visit to the Suez Canal. London: Day and Son, Ltd., 1866.

  Mariette-Bey, Auguste. Monuments of Upper Egypt. Translated by Alphonse Mariette. Boston: J.H. Mansfield & J.W. Dearborn, 1890.

  McCoan, J. C. Nations of the World: Egypt. New York: Peter Fenelon Collier & Son, 1900.

  Mitchell, H
enry. The Coast of Egypt and the Suez Canal. Boston: Fields, Osgood, & Co., 1869.

  Nourse, Joseph Everett. The Maritime Canal of Suez: From its Inauguration, November 17, 1869, to the Year 1884. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1884.

  Pakula, Hannah. An Uncommon Woman: Empress Frederick, Daughter of Queen Victoria, Wife of the Crown Prince of Prussia, Mother of Kaiser Wilhelm. New York: Touchstone, 1995.

  Payne, Robert. The Canal Builders: The Story of Canal Engineers Through the Ages. New York: MacMillan Company, 1959.

  Acknowledgments

  I lost my mother while in the middle of forming the plot for this, Violet’s sixth adventure. Mom and I were always connected by books. She taught me to read for myself before I even started school because I pestered her so much to read to me. Every Saturday during my childhood, Mom would bundle me up in the car and off we would go to the library, parting ways at the circulation desk so I could get lost in the children’s section and she could visit her beloved mystery section.

  As I grew older, I developed a book collection to rival her own, and of course we were always lending each other books. Many were the times we laughed over having purchased books we already owned, or high-fived about finding a rare volume to complete some particular series.

  Even as Mom’s health waned and her eyesight betrayed her, I would drive her to the library each week, no longer to get physical books but to pick out audiobooks. When she could no longer go to the library, I downloaded audiobooks to her tablet. When she made what would unexpectedly be her final trip to the hospital, I bundled up the tablet and several books for her to have beside her. She couldn’t really read anymore, but she liked having the physical presence of books with her.

  As you can imagine, Mom was very tickled when I decided to embark on a writing career, and when my interests turned to historical mystery, she was nearly beside herself. She enthusiastically accepted copies of my draft manuscripts to go through with her magnifying glass, correcting my numerous mistakes and lecturing me about splitting infinitives and other crimes against grammar.