'I am so very fond of him. He is so good and gentle and understanding… and is
a real comfort to me.”
These were the words of Queen Victoria speaking to her daughter-in-law,
Louise, Duchess of Connaught, on November 3, 1888, at Balmoral. Perhaps
surprising, though, is who she was talking about – not her beloved husband,
Albert, who had died in 1861. Nor John Brown, her loyal Scottish ghillie,
who in many ways filled the void left by Albert, since Brown had died in
1883.
Instead, Queen Victoria was referring to Abdul Karim, her 24-year-old Indian
servant.
Her relationship with Karim was one that sent shockwaves through the royal
court – and ended up being one of the most scandalous periods of her 64-year
reign.
Indeed, such was the ill-feeling that when Victoria died, her son King Edward
ordered all records of their relationship, including correspondence and
photographs, to be destroyed.
But a new archive of letters, pictures and Karim’s “lost diary”, held secretly
by his family for more than a century, sheds new light on their
relationship.
The documents tell the story of how Karim arrived in England in 1887 and
quickly gained the affection of a monarch 42 years his senior. They chart
the remarkable rise of the clerk from Agra in northern India to one of
Victoria’s closest and most influential friends.
The author Shrabani Basu discovered the documents after writing Victoria &
Abdul, her book on the remarkable relationship between the Queen and her
Indian servant. In 2010 Basu was in Bangalore, India, for the book’s launch
when she received a call from the British Council. Begum Qamar Jehan, then
85, frail and blind, was one of Abdul Karim’s few remaining relatives (Karim
had had no children himself); yet, despite her age and condition, she still
had vivid memories of her days in Karim Lodge, Agra (more of which later).
Moreover, she had in her possession Karim’s diary documenting the period in
which he served Queen Victoria.
Two months later Basu flew from London to Karachi in Pakistan. She was handed
the diary – a neat brown journal with gold edges, recognisable as the
stationery used in Windsor. It contained a record of Karim’s 10 years in
London between the Golden and Diamond jubilees. The pages were also filled
with photographs and magazine cuttings. It had been smuggled out of India by
the family when they had fled in 1947 following the Partition riots, then
kept a closely guarded secret until Basu’s visit. Basu has now updated her
remarkable story of the Queen and her Indian manservant with extracts from
his diary – plus from Queen Victoria’s Hindustani Journals, which Basu has
had translated for the first time.
Karim initially moved to England for Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee – the
Queen wanted two Indian waiters there to attend to the Indian princes who
would be present. Victoria was instantly charmed by the tall, elegant Karim,
and within a year he had transcended from waiting tables to becoming a
powerful figure within the royal court.
Yet in the opening paragraphs of his diary, Karim remarks on the humble nature
of his status in the Royal household: “Under the shadow of Her Majesty,
Queen Victoria, I a humble subject venture in the following pages to lay
before the reader a brief summary from the journal of my life at the court
of Queen Victoria from the Golden Jubilee of 1887 to the Diamond Jubilee of
1897. As I have been but a sojourner in a strange land and among a strange
people I humbly trust all mistakes will be kindly overlooked by the reader
who would extend indulgence to the writer of these pages.”
He then goes on to describe his initial thoughts on coming to England: “In
1887 with the recommendation of Dr Tyler who was my superior officer at the
Central Jail [where he was working as a clerk] I came to England as orderly
to the Queen. I must mention that the word 'orderly’ as understood by us in
India means one who has to accompany a sovereign or Prince or other high
person of rank on horseback. It is a much higher position than the orderly
of the British Army who is simply a private soldier selected to attend an
officer as a personal servant carrying his orders etc. It was in the former
sense of the word that I accepted the proposal to go to England.”
On arriving in London, he notes, he visits the zoo as well as Madame Tussauds.
Yet sightseeing was not Karim’s prime purpose; he is there to meet the
Queen. He recounts their first audience:
“Dr Tyler and I were instructed to take our station near the dining room and
wait her Majesty’s coming. I was somewhat nervous at the approach of the
Great Empress who soon entered accompanied by HRH the Duke of Connaught and
Princess Beatrice. Dr Tyler at once did homage by kneeling, whilst I did the
same in Oriental style. I presented nazars, or gifts by exposing, in the
palms of my hands, a gold mohar [a coin] which Her Majesty touched and
remitted as is the Indian custom. The Queen was thereafter pleased to speak
to Dr Tyler a few words, and so ended my first interview with the Empress of
India.”
Two days later, Dr Tyler received a telegram asking him to return to
Buckingham Palace with Karim. The queen wrote in her diaries about her two
new Indian servants: “The one Mohammed Buksh, very dark with a very smiling
expression… and the other, much younger, called Abdul Karim, is much
lighter, tall and with a fine, serious countenance. His father is a native
doctor at Agra. They both kissed my feet.”
Karim introduced curry to the royal menu and started teaching her to speak
Urdu, offering lessons every evening. As Empress of India – and a committed
Indophile – nothing pleased her more.
Yet Karim was dispirited – he was unhappy doing such a menial task as waiting
tables and professed his wish to return to his homeland. This is mentioned
in his diaries.
The following letter from Queen Victoria that Karim kept in his journal asking
him to stay is significant: that letter was one of many destroyed by her
son, King Edward, following his mother’s death. Karim, however, had kept a
certified copy:
“General Dennehy has read me your petition… I shall be very sorry to part with
you for I like and respect you, but I hope you will remain till the end of
this year or the beginning of the next that I may be able to learn enough
Hindustani from you to speak a little. I shall gladly recommend you for a
post in India which could be suitable for you and hope that you may be able
to come and see me from time to time in England.”
And recommend him for a post she did: Queen Victoria made Abdul Karim her
official munshi (teacher) as well as Indian Clerk to the Queen. This too he
notes in his diary: “It was a day I shall never forget and for the same I
shall ever thank my God and pray for the long life and happiness of Her
Majesty.”
Henceforth Karim travelled everywhere with the Queen, even on her tours of
Europe, meeting numerous monarchs and prime ministers along the way. The
Queen allowed him to move his wife over to England, and the couple were
given their own cottage on each of her estates. In Balmoral, a special
cottage was built just for him, and the Queen called it “Karim Cottage” in
his honour. The munshi spared no expense decorating and, on the completion
of Karim Cottage, threw a house-warming party for the ladies and gentleman
of the household.
According to his diaries, Karim seems particularly enamoured by Balmoral: “I
admired the scenery for it reminded me so forcibly of the Highland scenery
of India which is much resorted to by Europeans during the hot season… I was
told that Her Majesty is particularly partial to this residence in the
Highlands. During the summer the neighbouring hills are covered with the
rich bloom of the white and purple heather and with many kinds of wild
flowers. To add to the charms of the scenery the silver Dee flows directly
past the back of the castle.”
He isn’t as impressed with Glasgow, though: “Glasgow is a very dirty town but
it could not be otherwise as it is purely a business centre. There are
numerous manufactories, ship building yards and great iron works. The
country round about produces abundance of coal. It is situated on the River
Clyde, the water of which is so black and dirty… that no fish can live in
the river.”
On one of his many foreign trips with the Queen, this time to Nice, he remarks
upon his good fortune: “Events which we never thought or even dreamt of
happening to us 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 these poor jugglers must have made them happy for life.”
Still, many in the royal court were unhappy with Karim’s constant presence. He
was forever by her side and the Queen, a prolific letter-writer, often sent
him several letters a day. He became her most trusted companion. Although
mother to nine children, her relationship with them was distant – and often
strained. She missed her late husband dearly, and was desperate for company.
As the years went on, Karim’s influence grew, and in time, the one-time
servant had servants himself.
The courtiers’ fears had some substance. Since Karim saw every letter that the
Queen sent, he was soon advising her on how to deal with sectarian problems
between Muslims and Hindus – advice she passed on to the bemused Viceroy.
Unsurprisingly, her solutions always seemed to favour the Muslims – Karim,
of course, was a Muslim. He even asked to be given a knighthood – one of the
few requests the Queen turned down.
The courtiers’ resentment came to a head in 1889 when the Queen spent the
night with her munshi at Glassalt Shiel, the isolated Scottish cottage she
had once shared with John Brown but vowed never again to visit after he
died. Although it appears to have been platonic, he was 26 and she 70, so
eyebrows would have been raised. Several courtiers – and indeed members of
the Queen’s own family – attempted to distance the Queen from Karim but to
no avail; indeed, she thought their actions were motivated by race – and
jealousy.
Karim only notes the hostility towards him in his diaries once, and in
passing: “The memorable year [Diamond Jubilee year] did not open well… The
unpleasantness I remarked on last year still existed.”
Queen Victoria died in 1901, and Abdul Karim was given a prominent place in
the funeral possession. Yet days later, guards ordered him to hand over
every letter she had written to him. He must somehow have managed to keep
his diary concealed.
The few other documents that survived fire are held at Windsor. These include
a journal kept by the Queen that was written entirely in Hindustani, and
Shrabani Basu has painstakingly translated all 13 volumes.
The translations also reveal fascinating insights into the nature of the
Queen’s relationship with Karim.
Abdul had created a phrase book of everyday Urdu words for the Queen to use
when speaking to her Indian servants, as well as visiting royalty, and has
written them out in Roman script.
The phrases include the standard ones such as: “You may go home if you like”
(Tum ghar jao agar chhate ho); and: “The egg is not boiled enough”.
But some of the phrases are significantly more intriguing. For instance: “You
will miss the munshi very much” (Tum munshi ko bahut yad karoge). And: “Hold
me tight” (Ham ko mazbut thamo).
The Windsor documents also contain letters from Queen Victoria to Karim,
frequently concerning his wife (towards whom, it would appear, she was
equally fond), signed: “dearest mother”; or “Your loving mother, Victoria
R.I.”
She nearly always signed these in Urdu. Moreover, the intimate details that
the Queen included showed how close she had come to Karim. For instance, the
Queen learnt that Karim and his wife had been unsuccessfully trying to have
children, and decided to get medical advice:
“I spoke to Dr Reid about your dear wife and I think he will understand easily
what you have to tell him. It may be that in hurting her foot and leg she
may have twisted (moved or hurt) something in her inside, which would
account for things not being regular and as they ought.”
Following the letter-burning, Karim and his wife were ordered to return to
India. Years of fine living in the Queen’s palaces meant Karim had grown
portly. He had also grown rich, and, returning to Agra, built himself a
house, Karim Lodge. He died eight years after his return, at the age of 46.
Yet King Edward’s paranoia was not quelled, and he sent more agents to India
to demand that all memorabilia relating to the Queen be burned, much to the
alarm of Karim’s grieving widow. King Edward had done the same with all
mementos of his mother’s relationship with John Brown.
After all these years, Abdul Karim’s family decided to come forward with the
diary as they were determined to show him in a more positive light; not the
social climber he had been painted as by many. In truth, Karim was one of
the Queen’s closest companions, and offered the widowed monarch a great deal
of support – and pleasure - during her lonely later years.
Extracted from 'Victoria & Abdul’ by Shrabani Basu, published by The
History Press March 7. To order a copy from Telegraph Books for £9.99 plus
£1.25 p&p call 0844 871 1516 or visit books.telegraph.co.uk
