CHAPTER X AT THE ENGLISH COURT
In proportion as my works found consideration in the most obscure parts of the Old and of the New World, their effect in Europe was felt even in the highest Government circles, and it is not surprising that the travelling staff and the pen brought the obscure author into contact with sovereigns and princes. In England, where, in spite of the strict rules of Court etiquette, the genealogical relations of the self-made man are not considered of such great importance, my ardent defence of British interests could not be overlooked.
After the appearance of my book, The Coming Struggle for India, I was invited by Queen Victoria, whom I had already met on the occasion of my stay at Sandringham with the Prince of Wales, to visit her at Windsor, and the reception this rare sovereign accorded me was as great a surprise to the world in general as it was to me.
It was in the year 1889, on the occasion of my stay in London, that I received a card bearing the following invitation.—
The Lord Steward
has received her Majesty's command to invite
Professor Vambéry
to dinner at Windsor Castle on Monday, the 6th
May, and to remain until the following day.
Windsor Castle, 5th May, 1889.
I had already been informed of the intended invitation by telegram, and as, for political reasons, it was not thought wise to invite and do honour to the anti-Russian author without further reason—it would have seemed like a direct challenge to the Court at St. Petersburg—the telegram bore the further message: "To see the library and the sights of the Castle." When I read these words I reflected that if the Czar, Alexander III., could receive and mark out for distinction the pro-Russian author, Stead, without further ado, this excuse was almost superfluous, and Queen Victoria could very well receive the representative of the opposite party. However, I paid no further heed to these needless precautions, but went down to Windsor. A royal carriage awaited me at the station, and I drove to the Castle, where I was received by the Lord Steward, Sir Henry Ponsonby, an amiable and noble-minded man, who greeted me warmly and conducted me to the apartment prepared for me. I had hardly got rid of the dust of the journey when Sir Henry Ponsonby re-entered the room and, according to the custom at Court, brought me the royal birthday book, requesting me to enter my name, with the day and year of my birth.
It was a noble company in whose ranks my name was to figure, for the book was full of signatures of crowned heads, princes, great artists, learned men, and noted soldiers of the day. As I prepared to comply with the request the uncertainty of the date of my birth suddenly occurred to me, and as I gazed hesitatingly before me Sir Henry asked me with a pleasant smile the reason of my embarrassment.
"Sir," I said, "I do not know the exact date of my birth, and I should not like to enter a lie in the royal book."
When I had told him the circumstances written on the first page of these Memoirs he took me by the hand, remarking pleasantly, "You need not be ashamed of that. Her Majesty lays less weight upon the birth of her guests than upon their actions and merits."
So I entered the conventional date of the 19th of March, 1832, and am quite sure that among the many guests at Windsor there was never another to whom the day and year of his entry into this world were unknown.
With the exception of this rather unpleasant, but otherwise comical, episode my stay at Windsor was a most pleasant one. The Court officials, whose acquaintance I made at lunch, vied with each other in their amiability to the foreign defender of British interests in Asia, and this was especially the case among the military officers, who soon struck up a political conversation with me. An Englishman, be he courtier, soldier, or an ordinary mortal, speaks unreservedly of his political opinions without any consideration for the party in office, and I was much surprised to hear one of the higher Court officials, an ardent admirer of Mr. Gladstone, speak in very sharp terms of the politics of the Conservative, Lord Salisbury, even drawing me into the criticism.
My apartments were in one of the round towers of the Castle, so full of historical memories, and as I gazed at the lovely landscape, with the Thames winding in and out among the trees, and remembered the ideas I had formed of this royal castle when I read Shakespeare, I was deeply moved at the wonderful change in my position. If some one had told me in the days gone by that I, who was then living in the poorest circumstances, and even suffering hunger, should one day be the honoured guest of the Queen of England and Empress of India at Windsor, that men in high position would lead me through the ancient halls, show me the royal treasures, and that I should sit next but two to the Queen at table, I should, in spite of my lively imagination, have thought him a fool and have laughed in his face. The crown jewels never dazzled me to such an extent as to force me to worship their wearer. But every one must agree that the natural simplicity of Queen Victoria's manner, her rare amiability and kindness of heart, and the way in which she knew how to honour Art and Science, had a most fascinating effect on those who came into contact with her. It is a great mistake to imagine that this princess, placed at the head of the monarchical republic, as England may be called on account of its constitution, was only the symbolical leader of the mighty State, having no influence on its wonderful machinery. Queen Victoria had a remarkable memory; she knew the ins and outs of every question, took a lively interest in everything, and in spite of her earnest mien and conversation, sparks of wit often lighted up the seemingly cold surface and reminded one of the fact that she was a talented princess and a clever, sensible woman.
Queen Victoria has often erroneously been depicted as a woman cold in manner, reserved, and of a gloomy nature, who, with her carefully worded questions and answers made a rather unfavourable impression on her visitor. This idea is quite incorrect. She certainly was a little reserved at first, but as soon as her clever brain had formed an opinion as to the character and disposition of the stranger, her seeming coldness was cast aside, and was replaced by a charming graciousness of manner, and she warmed to her subject as her interest in it grew.
When, at Sandringham, I had the honour of walking in the park next to her little carriage drawn by two donkeys, she seemed at first to be paying scant attention to my conversation with the gentleman-in-waiting who accompanied us, but when I began to speak about my adventures and experiences in Central Asia, her interest visibly increased, and she made inquiries as to the smallest details. What most surprised me was that she not only retained all the strange Oriental names, but pronounced them quite correctly, a rare thing in a European, especially in a lady; she even remembered the features and peculiarities of the various Asiatics who had visited her Court, and the opinions she formed were always correct.
One evening, I think it was at Sandringham, she conversed with me for a long time about the East, chiefly about Turkey. She remembered all the Turkish ambassadors of half a century, and after having spoken for some time about Fuad Pasha, I took courage, and asked her if the following anecdote which I had often heard in the East were true:—
"They say," I began, "that during one of his missions to the English Court, Fuad Pasha brought your Majesty a beautiful brooch as a present from the Sultan, Abdul Medjid, and that some years afterwards your Majesty had a pair of earrings made of it. When on another mission Fuad Pasha saw and admired the earrings, your Majesty is said to have remarked: 'N'est ce pas, sa Majesté le Sultan sera bien faché d'entendre, que j'ai gâté la broche dont il m'a fait cadeau?' Fuad Pasha is said to have given the following witty answer: 'Au contraire, Madame, mon souverain sera enchanté d'entendre que votre Majesté prête l'oreille à tout ce qui vient de sa part.'"
The Queen listened silently, then remarked—
"It is a pretty story, but it is not true."
I found that this princess had more sense of the importance of strengthening British power in Asia, than many of her noted ministers; and the Shah of Persia, on the occasion of his visit to Budapest, told me astonishing stories of the Queen's familiarity with Oriental affairs. I was not a little surprised when she, at the age of seventy, told me of her studies in Hindustani, and showed me her written exercises in that tongue. The two Indian servants, with their enormous turbans and wide garments, who waited on the Queen at table and accompanied her on her excursions, were a living proof of the interest the Empress of India took in the establishment of British power in Asia; and when I saw with what devotion and respect these long-bearded Asiatics waited on a woman, and what is more, a Christian woman, handing her food and drink, and watching for the least sign from her, I could hardly refrain from expressing my admiration. The knowledge that the most powerful sovereign in the world, who guides the destinies of nearly four hundred million human beings, stands before you in the form of a modest, unassuming woman is overwhelming. And when I saw in the Royal Library at Windsor the numerous addresses and Presentations, and assurances of devotion from the Emir of Afghanistan and other Asiatic potentates, written on scrolls of parchment in large golden letters, or when I admired the crowns, sceptres, and Oriental arms, preserved in the Royal Treasury at Windsor, I could never tire in my admiration of the power and greatness of Britain.
Discretion forbids me to say more of Queen Victoria, and I will only add that the graciousness with which she received me, and the words in which she acknowledged my literary efforts on England's behalf, will always be more precious to me than all the orders and treasures with which sovereigns think to have repaid the author.
After the Queen's death in 1901 her successor, Edward VII., showed me many marks of favour. I had made his acquaintance (as I remarked on [p. 248]) in 1865, and during all the time he was Prince of Wales he never missed an opportunity of showing his appreciation of my literary efforts. Of all the monarchs of Europe and Asia not one has visited and studied other countries and nationalities of the Old and of the New World as he has done; consequently he is very capable of leading the politics of the giant kingdom he rules over. When, in the course of conversation with him, I touched upon the situation in Turkey, Persia or India, I found him quite familiar with all these subjects, and his opinion was never influenced by differences in race or in religion. Having noticed during his visit to Budapest that the Hungarian aristocracy did not pay the same honour to the man of letters as was done in London, he gave an evening party, and appeared in the drawing-room arm in arm with the present writer, whom he introduced to the assembled guests as "My friend, Professor Vambéry!"
King Edward is at once a clever writer and a good orator, as is proved by the book entitled, Speeches and Addresses of H. R. H. The Prince of Wales, 1863-1888, London, 1889. When I visited him in 1901, shortly after his accession to the throne, I found, greatly to my satisfaction, that the possession of a crown had caused no change in his character. He was as amiable as before, and begged me to visit him as often as I came to England. He also proved his nobleness of mind on the occasion of my seventieth birthday, when I received the following telegram from the King's private secretary, Lord Francis Knollys: "The King commands me to send you his warmest congratulations on the seventieth anniversary of your birthday."
A few days later I received the following communication.—
"Marlborough House,
"Pall Mall, S. W.,
"March 18, 1902."Dear Professor Vambéry,—I am commanded by the King to inform you, that he has much pleasure in conferring upon you the third class (Commander) of the Victorian Order on your 70th birthday, as a mark of his appreciation of your having always proved so good and constant a friend to England, and as a token of His Majesty's personal regard towards you.
"I beg to remain, dear Professor Vambéry,
"Yours very faithfully,
"Francis Knollys."
This proof of royal favour naturally caused a sensation abroad, and also at home, where Government had taken but scant notice of my festival, and it was generally highly appreciated. As to why Hungary on this occasion again tried to prove the truth of the adage that no man is a prophet in his own country I have spoken in another part of this book.
All I wish to prove now is that King Edward VII. has always shown a lively appreciation of literary efforts and aspirations, and in spite of his exalted position does not allow himself to be influenced by difference in rank or religion. Directly after his accession he requested the representatives of foreign powers in London to introduce to him all the foreign artists and authors who might come to London, as he wished to make their acquaintance. Thus he proves himself to be a true son of liberal Albion, and filled with the democratic spirit of our century.
As though to prove the truth of the proverb, "The fruit never falls far from the tree," the present Prince of Wales distinguishes himself in the same way, and by his amiability he has already won all hearts. At the time of my visit to Sandringham I lived in the apartments of the late Duke of Clarence, who was absent at the time, and thus I became the neighbour of Prince George, as he was then called. One afternoon, while I was occupied with my correspondence, I received an invitation from the Queen to join her in the garden; as I wished to wash my hands before going down I rang several times for warm water, but no one came. At length the young Prince came to my door, and asked me what I wanted. I told him, and he disappeared, returning in a few minutes with a large jug in his hand, which he placed, smiling, on my washstand.
Not at all bad, I thought, for the poor Jewish beggar-student of former years to be waited upon by a Prince! I have often laughed at the recollection of this incident, and have since dubbed the future sovereign of Great Britain, "The Royal Jug-bearer."
The King's other children also resemble him in this respect, and I often think of the following episode. One evening, at Sandringham, a gala-dinner was given in honour of Queen Victoria, and I was to take Princess Louise in to dinner; the Prince of Wales, now Edward VII., took a glance at the assembled guests, then approached me, saying: "Vambéry, why did you not put on orders?"
I was just going to make some excuse when the Princess (the present Duchess of Fife) remarked: "Why, Papa, Professor Vambéry ought to have pinned some of his books on to his coat; they would be the most suitable decorations."
It was a thoroughly democratic spirit which reigned in the home of the present King when he was Prince of Wales—a spirit which he has introduced into Buckingham Palace to the no small anger of many narrow-minded aristocrats. King Edward VII. understands the spirit of his times better than many of his brother sovereigns, and his popularity in England and America is a very natural result.
My Intercourse with Sultan Abdul Hamid