Victoria & Abdul (12 page)

She also built a special granite fountain in his memory just outside the Tea House in Frogmore, where she enjoyed sitting on summer days, and a bench was put up in his honour in the grounds of Osborne where they had often walked together. In Balmoral she erected a statue of him.

Even Ponsonby, who had no love lost for Brown and often clashed with him, was forced to admit: ‘He was the only person who could fight and make the Queen do what she did not wish. He did not always succeed nor was his advice always the best. But I believe he was honest, and with all his want of education, in roughness, his prejudices and other faults he was undoubtedly a most excellent servant to her.’ Four years after the death of John Brown, the Empress now had another servant she was beginning to rely on. Surely and steadily, and to the horror of the Royal Household, the young Karim was filling Brown’s shoes.

Beneath the regal trappings, the Queen was very much a people’s person. She enjoyed nothing more than getting to know her subjects, especially the country folk and the under-privileged. At Balmoral, she regularly went to the village shops and chatted with the locals, often buying knick-knacks. She disapproved of the snobbery of the upper classes and reached out to the ordinary people whenever she could. Her mothering of her Indian servants and protecting them from the prejudices of the Household was natural to her.

In the quiet setting of the Highlands, the Queen became closer to Karim. He described the hunting in India and the journeys he had made to Kabul and the North-West with his father. He informed her that his father had accompanied General Roberts on the famous march to Kandahar in 1880. The Queen was impressed by his candour and felt relaxed in his company, much to the discomfiture of the Household. They did not approve of the closeness that seemed to be developing between the Queen and the young Indian servant.

In a sense, they were also reminded of the Queen’s closeness to her previous ward, Duleep Singh. When the Queen was thirty-five years old, she had taken this young Indian Prince into her custody. He had been only eleven when the British defeated the Sikhs in the second Anglo-Sikh War in 1849, and seized the prized Koh-i-Noor as war booty. The young Prince was torn from his mother’s side and exiled to Britain where he arrived in 1854 at the age of fifteen. He had become a Christian. Whether out of guilt or a genuine motherly instinct, the Queen became his guardian. Duleep Singh formally presented her with the Koh-i-Noor. Victoria felt the young Prince looked sad and vulnerable and became a mother figure to him, allowing him to wear his native clothes. Fascinated by Duleep Singh’s good looks, she had him painted in all his princely finery at the age of fifteen by Francis Xavier Winterhalter. Over three decades later, the Queen was taking the young Abdul Karim under her wing. She was soon to have portraits of Karim painted by Von Angeli and Rudolph Swoboda.

Despite being devoted to the Queen as a young boy, Duleep Singh had grown up and rebelled against her, wanting to be recognised as the sovereign ruler of Punjab and demanding the return of the Koh-i-Noor. While at Balmoral, the Queen received further bad news from Duleep Singh, and she recorded:

The unfortunate Maharajah Duleep Singh has published a most violent crazy letter, speaking of being ‘the lawful sovereign of the Sikhs’ and ‘England’s implacable foe’. I heard this evening that his poor abandoned wife, the Maharanee Bamba, had died quite suddenly yesterday. I feel terrible for the poor children who are quite fatherless and motherless.
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To Karim, the actions of Duleep Singh were deplorable and he sympathised with the Queen in her moment of sorrow. To the Household, Duleep Singh’s conduct was another reason for the Queen not to be indulgent with Abdul Karim and grant him special favours.

Karim was not aware of the Household’s early wariness of him. He remained close to the Queen and asked her many questions of his own. She told him about her family, her grandchildren and the relations in Europe. The Queen reminisced about Albert and the
happy times they had spent in Balmoral. Karim saw the statues of John Brown that the Queen had erected in Balmoral and learnt about the Highland servant who had been so close to her. He told her about his extended family, his father, wife, brother and sisters. In the slight chill of the September days, Karim and the Queen got to know each other better. In less than two months he had mastered reading Queen Victoria’s handwriting, which at most times defeated even the patient Ponsonby. The Queen started writing to him directly instead of giving instructions through her Household.

In a letter to Reid she said: ‘You might I think
see
Abdul alone to give him this letter which I think he will be able to read. Good kind Mahomet I will read those few words to myself.’ Clearly Buksh had not benefited from his lessons as much as Karim.

The Queen, always interested in Indian affairs, now pressed her Viceroy for more news. She also wondered if she could have some Indian troops around her permanently and wrote to Lord Cross, the Secretary of State for India, who in turn asked the Viceroy: ‘Would it not clash with the Mutiny Act?’
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She began discussing India with her ministers and the Indian Princes who called on her. One of her frequent visitors was the Maharajah of Cooch Behar, who visited her again in Balmoral, brightening up the bleak castle with his sparkling jewellery and embroidered tunics. The Queen found the Maharajah ‘very amiable’,
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as he described to her the thrill of a tiger hunt. The Thakore of Morvi, who had presented the Queen with his special horse at Windsor, left from London in mid-November after having fulfilled his desire to see a London fog. ‘He had one yesterday, to his heart’s content. It was horrible,’
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a cynical Cross informed the Viceroy. Most of the Indian Royalty had left before the onset of winter and they had all expressed their satisfaction at the Jubilee celebrations, much to the relief of the British administration.

Despite his closeness to the Queen, Karim was in a dilemma. He was still uneasy about the fact that he had come to Britain to be an orderly, but had ended up doing menial tasks. He had already informed General Dennehy that he wanted to return to India. In Balmoral he had met Sir E. Bradford, who had served as agent in Rajputana, and spoken in fluent Hindustani to him. Karim told him as well that he would like to go back to his family.

Victoria, in the meantime, was troubled by news from other quarters. Duleep Singh had plunged into an even more rebellious
mode. He had already published inflammatory documents inciting the Sikh community and telegraphed the Queen demanding a trial so that he could prove in a court of justice that his proclamation of himself as the ruler of the Sikhs was not disloyal. He had returned to Paris after an unsuccessful attempt to go to India and sent a telegram to Ponsonby stating: ‘I return to Paris, being unable to obtain justice, resigned stipend, thus ending annexation treaty and getting rid of all the dealings with the most tyrannical government in the world, Indian Administration.’ By October, Duleep Singh had sent wild letters saying he was going to the East and would attach himself to Russia; he was apparently trying to set up a Russian party in north-west India.
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‘Bertie [the Prince of Wales] showed me a really monstrous letter from the Maharajah Duleep Singh to Sir Dighton Probyn [private secretary to the Prince of Wales], who in spite of all the Maharajah’s violent rebellious letters and publications had written in Bertie’s name to condole with him on the death of his wife. He surely must be off his head,’
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despaired the Queen, still reluctant to condemn her former ward completely. She slept badly, troubled by his attitude.

As the leaves turned golden in the autumn, the Royal entourage returned to Windsor. The journey from Ballater to Windsor was made on 25 November, the Queen comfortable in the Royal Saloon and Karim and Buksh close by. The summer had been a learning curve for the Queen. She had discovered more about India in the few months with Karim than she had ever done before. He too had learnt about her, her family, her habits and her preferences. She lay back and thought about how she would enjoy her interactions with Indian Royalty even more from now on. Maybe she would even speak to them in Hindustani.

The Maharajah, Sayaji Rao Gaekwad, of Baroda and his wife, Chimnabai, were expected at Windsor and the staff were in a flurry to get things right. The Gaekwads of Baroda were a powerful Royal house and the Secretary of State had informed the Queen that the highly educated Maharajah needed some pampering. The Maharani was famed for her skills in classical music and was also known to be a good hunter – she had felled tigers in the jungles around Gujarat and been photographed
standing with her kill, dramatically dressed in a sari with a rifle in her hand. The Maharajah was known to be a proud Mahratta and a well-known patron of the arts. On 2 December the Queen received Chimnabai and her sister in the Audience Room. All the men were kept out of the way and the ‘Indian attendants in particular’. The Queen was fascinated by the Maharani, whose demeanour was very different from the shy and retiring Sunity Devi of Cooch Behar. Chimnabai bent low and shook her hand.

‘She is a pretty little thing,’ recalled the Queen, noting what she wore in great detail: ‘a close fitting jacket & trousers, no petticoat, of pale blue satin over the whole a long crimson and gold gauze veil, which passed over the head and covered her completely excepting her face, which she uncovered as she came into the room. She had splendid jewels on.’
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The Maharani was wearing the sari draped in a traditional Mahratta way, passing between the legs, giving the impression she was wearing loose trousers. ‘She looks very gentle, but is said to be very wilful and to wish to see everything without being seen … both princesses had a red spot [
bindi
] painted in the centre of their foreheads,’ the Queen added, clearly impressed by her visit from a second Indian Maharani.

Chimnabai spoke a few words of English and told the Queen she regretted not having seen the Crown Prince, Bertie. Her sister did not speak any English. The Queen ventured upon a sentence in Hindustani which Karim and Buksh had taught her.

‘I also presented Beatrice in Hindustani,’ said the Queen, evidently quite pleased with herself for having made the effort. The Queen received Sayaji separately, noting that he was ‘small, dark and not distinguished or good looking, but he seems very intelligent. He speaks English perfectly well.’ The Maharajah was dressed in white and wore a low red turban or cap and a necklace of large emeralds.

That evening, the Queen held a reception in the White Drawing Room where she awarded Sayaji with the Star of India. Everyone was in uniform all around and the Queen herself wore a ribbon and the Star of the Order. She also presented the Maharajah with one of the enamel portraits of herself that she had given the other Indian Princes over the summer. She had enjoyed meeting the Gaekwads, even if they had come to see her a bit late in the Jubilee year.

A few days later, Karim and Buksh watched in wonder as the giant Christmas tree went up in Osborne House and the colourfully wrapped presents were laid below. Christmas was always spent at Osborne with the traditional decorations and festivities. Karim had seen the English families going to church in Agra on Christmas Day dressed in their Sunday best. To celebrate
Bada Din
, as they called Christmas in India, with the Queen in her own house was something special. The idea of decorating Christmas trees and putting presents out with them was a German custom and believed to have been introduced in England by Queen Charlotte, the wife of King George III. However, the tradition was popularised further and brought to its present form by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, who laid out a table beside the tree laden with chocolates, cakes and Christmas delights. The Queen did not forget to give a present to Karim and Buksh on their first Christmas; both received a signed photograph of her. There was even a chance for Karim to go pheasant shooting after Christmas and he enjoyed the outing, noting that it was ‘quite absorbing and interesting’.
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