The Queen, Her Lover and the Most Notorious Spy in History

by Roland Perry

  Victoria tried to disabuse him of his lifestyle in leading an ‘immoral’ strand of the aristocracy in flaunting its wealth and self-indulgence when so much of the country lived in poverty. She was aware there was a rich streak of hypocrisy in her censure of him.

  In a rare meeting at Windsor Castle in the spring of 1893 Victoria told Bertie:‘Your behaviour sets a bad example and incites the working-class into radical and democratic thinking.’

  ‘I don’t agree. The aristocracy is an essential bulwark of society as long as its privileged members do their public duties, such as acting as lord lieutenants of the Counties.’

  ‘But your excesses—your partying—are undermining everything you do!’

  ‘We are entitled to our pleasures in private, surely?’

  ‘You leave me in despair, Bertie! You really do. One day, when you are king, you might realise how out of touch your sentiment is!You will lose your popularity. And it is so difficult to retrieve. It is a fickle thing.’

  ‘I believe I am accepted by all classes. The upper class does not shun me; on the contrary, they embrace me. The working class mimic me with my gambling. I am cheered when my horses win and they sympathise when I lose!’

  ‘And the vast and growing middle class?’

  ‘They aspire to be in a higher class. I represent that aspiration!’

  ‘You delude yourself. Self-delusion is a dangerous thing.’

  Without telling his mother, Bertie believed he could parlay popularity into a wide appeal when on the throne.

  At Christmas 1895, Vicky visited London with her family. She loved to spend time with Victoria where she stepped out of the voluminous correspondence between them and into real conversation. In those chats with her and other members of the family, particularly Bertie, Vicky realised that she knew far more about the queen and her private thoughts than anyone else. The diaries allowed Victoria to let go some feelings, but the letter communication to her daughter was the positively cathartic place to vent all her emotions. They joked about being each other’s ‘High Priestess’. They had written about 150 letters a year to each other over 40 years, which added up to around 6000 pieces of correspondence.

  Bertie was still loitering on the edge of significance in Britain’s affairs as his long wait for the throne continued.Victoria and Salisbury would only throw him ceremonial tokens, such as on 14 May 1896, after nearly six decades,Victoria giving up the trooping of the colour at the Horse Guards Parade, and letting her son do it. Undaunted, he revelled in his own pursuits when one of his thirteen racehorses, Persimmon, won the Derby.The prince led his horse into the winner’s enclosure to the biggest spontaneous ovation he had received to that point in his life. Many of the punters at this prime British race had backed Persimmon because it belonged to Bertie.This win took the prince’s stake earnings to nearly £29,000 for the season, a few thousand short of what it cost for the upkeep of his stud.Victoria was one person not impressed. She had warned him he would not be able to compete financially with the Rothschilds at anything. But Bertie wasn’t listening to his mother on such matters anymore, regarding her as a ‘killjoy’ when it came to his fun-seeking.

  Bertie was allowed to plan the Diamond Jubilee to celebrate his mother’s sixtieth anniversary of her ascending to the throne in 1897. He insisted on a bit of austerity, royal-style, by not inviting the crowned heads from other countries. His nephew, Kaiser Wilhelm, at all costs was to be kept away. Bertie told all the major dignitaries involved that any surplus monies raised for the occasion would go to the ‘Metropolitan hospitals and Convalescent Institutions’.That done, he turned to the challenge of riding a bike. Cycling had become the great new fad of the mid-1890s. His weight and age made it a tough mission, but after several falls he succeeded, causing Punch to dub him ‘The Prince of Wheels.’

  On Saturday 20 June 1897, the queen and her seven surviving children attended a service at St George’s Chapel, Windsor, and then visited Albert’s tomb, with its Matthew Noble-sculpted sarcophagus of a recumbent prince. (It was more than similar to Noble’s Elphinstone memorial lying in the quiet surrounds of St Peter’s, Limpsfield, in Surrey.) Monday 22 June was declared a bank holiday for the much grander public celebration and thanks at St Paul’s in London. Huge crowds attended. London’s population had tripled to just under four million since Victoria’s coronation, and at least a quarter of them were out and about hoping to get a glimpse of her and the Prince of Wales. Bertie was prominent, riding a horse on one side of the grand state landau drawn by eight horses that departed Buckingham Palace to much fanfare at 11.15 a.m. Elphinstone’s close friend, the old Duke of Cambridge, rode on the other side. The queen sat alone in the large carriage with the Princess of Wales (Alix) and Princess Helena (Lenchen) placed opposite her with their backs to the horses. Prince Arthur, Duke of Connaught, now a field marshal, followed. Protocol dictated that Vicky, an empress dowager, precede the landau in a smaller carriage. Alfred, as his father had ordained, was now a sovereign after inheriting the duchy of Coburg and Gotha. He, too, had to ride separately.

  There were as many tears as cheers for the procession.All onlookers were aware that the ailing grandmotherly sovereign was 78 and probably attending her last grand public ceremony. Royal supporters and rebels alike acknowledged that she had been a significant presence and dominant image for almost all onlookers for all their lives.They had known no-one else as the symbol of British life, in an era that had long been named after her. Victoria’s legacy was in place even though she was doing less and less in public.

  Bertie had to step up his involvement in ceremonial activities, which he enjoyed more than his mother. He was lively and ingratiating and always gave the impression of being captivated by those he met. This contrasted to solemn Victoria, who could not hide her fatigue and lack of interest. She was winding down while the only thing that Bertie seemed to be slowing up on was his extra-marital affairs. His obesity had led to impotence and attendant medical problems, including arteriosclerosis and diabetes. Aline Sassoon was seen less and less. His number one mistress in the late 1890s, Daisy Greville (Lady Warwick), was keeping herself out of his grasp by attaching herself to eccentric causes. She also returned fitfully to her husband to allow him conjugal rights after a thirteen-year denial. She became pregnant and kept apart from Bertie’s set as he looked more and more like a neutered king-in-waiting. The tall, blue-eyed, bosomy Alice Keppel was becoming his female accessory of choice as his lusty days as a royal stud faded.

  Granulated rhinoceros horn, special Chinese herbs, imported oysters and ‘natural’ sex drugs from India could bring him to attention but it was often a struggle. His diminished sex drive made him grumpy and Keppel was the woman to keep up his spirits, if not his pecker. Bertie would still find ways to have his erotic pleasures, but he needed a full-time occupation to balance his need for his brothel whores, society women, horses and gambling mates. Being king would do.

  Victoria’s strange, unconventional relationship with Abdul Karim had been maintained for a decade after the Jubilee events and the family, the royal court and the press were becoming concerned.Without Victoria’s knowledge or direction, her private secretary, Sir Henry Ponsonby, sent British spies to check on Karim and discovered he had misrepresented his father’s profession in claiming he was a ‘surgeon-general’. In fact he was a pharmacist working at the Agra gaol where Karim had been a clerk. When Ponsonby informed her, she refused to believe it, saying that he must have the wrong man. Ponsonby’s diligent intelligence-gathering displeased Victoria so much that she did not invite him to dinner for a year, which he understood was punishment.

  Several of Victoria’s children tried to talk her out of having the Munshi so close, but to no avail. They were troubled that she wrote so much to him, sometimes several letters a day. Courtiers’ fears had some substance. Karim’s English had improved and as he diligently dried her majesty’s moniker, he saw every letter that she sent. Victoria turned to him to discuss India’s sectarian problems
between Muslims and Hindus, and she, in turn, passed on advice to India’s bemused viceroy. Her solutions, it was noted, always favoured Muslims. The worry for courtiers and family came to a head when Victoria spent the night with him in the isolated Scottish cottage at Loch Ordie that she had once shared with Brown. After this intimate encounter, Karim was emboldened enough to ask for a knighthood, saying it would bring him and his family enormous prestige.Victoria consulted a few trusted courtiers, who delicately advised against it.

  Bertie was monitoring all these developments and was in constant letter communication with Vicky over it. She responded that Victoria had always done what she wanted when it came to affairs of the heart. After losing Elphinstone, for instance, she had eventually won the battle to have him restored to the royal court.Vicky observed that she had always loved the company of attractive men. Bertie wrote back that he could condone her relationships if they were not having such extraordinary ramifications for affairs of state. The situation was so serious, Bertie informed Vicky, that he said he would tell Victoria to stop pushing for Karim’s knighthood. He thought it would endanger the monarchy. But Bertie could not summon the courage to confront her, which he told Vicky would be the hardest thing he would ever have to do. He shirked the issue, even though he had the ammunition to fire at his mother concerning the Elphinstone affair. He was in fear of her. But there was also the moral high ground. He could hardly take it himself given his private life, which had now spanned four decades. Instead, he used her personal physician, Sir James Reid, to handle it. He was an Aberdeen Scot and not in the habit of mincing his words. Victoria usually appreciated this, but on this occasion she found it most unpalatable. Reid met her in private and consulted her about her health. Then he raised the issue of the Munshi.

  ‘It is not doing your mental state any good,’ he said bluntly, ‘and it seems to me you are thinking too much of his feelings. But this is of infinitesimal importance compared with the gravity of the situation as regards your majesty.’

  Victoria stiffened as she sat opposite on a chair in the drawing room. Reid fiddled with his satchel, putting his notes and medicine away. He was not nervous, yet his fidgeting was a sign of agitation. She knew his manner well and braced herself for some contentious advice.

  ‘People in high places are saying that your majesty is not sane,’ he added, ‘and they are saying that the time will come when, to save your memory and reputation, it will be necessary for me to come forward and say so.’

  ‘Say what?’ Victoria asked firmly.

  ‘That you are not well; that you are indeed not sane.’

  ‘You are insane to suggest it!’ she shouted.

  ‘I spoke to the Prince of Wales yesterday,’ Reid responded, standing his ground, ‘and he spoke to me very seriously on the subject.’

  ‘Coward! He has not the stomach to see me about it!’

  ‘That is not true, your majesty. He says he has quite made up his mind to come forward if necessary.’

  ‘He sends you to do his dirty work.’

  ‘With respect,no,your majesty.Quite apart from all the consequences to you, it affects him most vitally.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it affects the throne.’

  This comment only caused Victoria to be even more stubborn.

  Not frightened by the doctor’s sharp message, or her son’s behind-the-scenes threats, she went on the offensive, concluding that the royal household was being racist.

  ‘Bertie,’ she wrote to Vicky, ‘is being his usual selfish and mean self.’

  Victoria called Reid to another meeting and raged at him. Reid did not fold and this caused her to break down. He had to comfort her and settle her down with a sedative. Even this hardy Scot had had enough, at least in confronting his queen. Realising the predicament in which he had placed the much-respected doctor, Bertie told him he had his full support. Reid then confronted the Munshi, who had to put up with tirades, abuse and intimidation. The Indian’s only real supporter of any weight was Victoria herself. The older she became and the longer he remained close, the worse it became for him and his family. In the end, Victoria did not urge for Karim’s knighthood anymore but instead pushed harder for his privileges and defended him at every turn. Ponsonby reflected the general frustration from all around her about this strange relationship with an unlikely individual who had embedded himself into the monarch’s affections. Ponsonby saw her attachment to the Indian as one of strong emotion. He likened the Munshi to a pet, similar to a horse or dog that she could not willingly give up.

  Karim became sick with a carbuncle on his neck. Victoria visited him twice a day and examined him just as she had seen the doctor do. She fussed about him, stroked his hand and made sure he was comfortable. When his pain subsided, he resumed giving her Hindustani lessons, in his room. He had access to her in much the way Brown had done. Victoria wanted the close, private attention of a handsome male and she was prepared to appear eccentric to ensure it. She upbraided anyone who challenged her choice. The Duke of Connaught complained to Ponsonby that Karim was allowed to move among the gentry at the Highland Braemer Games. Ponsonby explained that he was there under the orders of the queen, who understood Indian etiquette. If he (the duke) had a problem, it might be better if he brought it up with her.

  Ponsonby wrote that this caused the duke to shut up. The private secretary was amused by Victoria’s behaviour, the Munshi himself and the reaction to him by the aristocracy. It also demonstrated that the plump little old monarch instilled more fear into pompous members of the establishment than ever before. That look of disapproval, perfected over half a century, had self-important men and women trembling, even from a distance. Instead of rejoicing in the old queen’s pleasure at having attractive young male company, they incurred her displeasure at what she perceived as snobbishness, racism and even jealousy. Some called her defence ‘odd’; others continued to suggest her behaviour was a sign of ‘madness’. The comparison with George III, especially in his later years, emerged as it had before. But Victoria would not let Karim go. She would never forget how, as a young princess, she had been bluffed, lied to and connived against over her desire for Elphinstone. It was one thing for her Lord to take away Albert; but mere mortals had not been able to banish John Brown. She was determined that they would only remove Karim ‘over her dead body’, which was likely: he was 44 years younger.

  Vicky became ill in the summer of 1899 and made a trip to Balmoral for a medical examination at Victoria’s suggestion.The queen mustered the best specialists to attend and they concluded she had inoperable cancer. It was a distressing time for all, particularly Victoria, who expressed her despair at the thought of outliving her favourite child, but was nevertheless stoic in front of her daughter.Yet Vicky did not feel sorry for herself and insisted on walking in the hills with Bertie, who had come to see her after the doctors’ verdict.

  He could not keep up and had to sit halfway up a hill catching his breath.

  ‘I’m glad we could be alone,’ she said.‘I wanted to talk to you about the letters.’

  ‘What?’ Bertie said.

  ‘Between me and Mama. I made sure that once she had read them they were sent back to me. I have most of them. Well, the contentious ones at least.’

  ‘I am not clear what you are getting at.’

  ‘I have put my thoughts on paper about Willy becoming kaiser,’ she said sadly. ‘I know it is awful to talk about one’s own son like this, but he would be dangerous. He wants to expand his empire. I have heard his private boasts. My physician tells me in private that Willy is a kind of megalomaniac. He wants power to compensate for his weaknesses, which are legion.’

  ‘Poor Vicky,’ Bertie said, patting her arm, ‘you have been through much.’

  ‘The doctors say my illness has been brought on by my concerns.’

  Bertie nodded sympathetically.

  ‘I don’t think you understand,’ she said locking her drawn, sad eyes on him.‘Willy could be
mad. He will want to prove himself through his country’s actions, even unto war with Russia and the United Kingdom.’

  ‘I must say, I have never liked him, sorry.’

  ‘No-one loves Willy. He is cold, arrogant, jingoistic and over-ambitious.’

  ‘Surely he would not move against England?’

  ‘Not while Mama is alive. He would never dare. But when she passes over . . .’

  Vicky gripped his hand. ‘You must get Ponsonby to come to Friedrichshof [Castle, Kronberg, her family home] and collect the letters,’ she said earnestly. ‘They must never, ever be read by Willy. I really fear his reaction for everyone if he ever read them.’

  The thoughts distressed her. Bertie kissed her forehead. ‘Don’t worry, my sweet sister. I’ll attend to it.’

  ‘There is something else,’ she whispered, her eyes welling up in tears.‘Willy knows about Lord E.’

  ‘E?’

  ‘Elphinstone!’ Vicky dabbed her eyes.

  ‘Did Mama tell him?! I can’t believe—’

  ‘No, no, never! I was ill in hospital in Berlin about the time Brown died. Mama wrote a most impassioned letter. Willy visited me in hospital and while I was asleep he began reading it. I awoke and admonished him. In explaining Mama’s comments I mentioned ‘E.’ Later in correspondence he forced me—at the threat of writing to Mama—to say who ‘E’ was.’

  Vicky cried more. Bertie put his arm around her.

  ‘There, there. He won’t dare say anything.’

  ‘You can never know with Willy! It’s now all there in a letter! I feel terrible about writing it, but I had no choice. It was blackmail!’

  ‘We’ll have to get that letter back somehow.’

  ‘Apart from that one letter from me to Willy, you do realise that the entire file at Friedrichshof contains all Mama’s secrets, most of mine, and thoughts about everyone, including you.There is detailed, intimate comment by her about Elphinstone, Papa, Brown and Karim, not to mention her sometimes scathing commentary about every prime minister, foreign head of state and just about everyone in British and royal society! It is explosive!’