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Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, (Victoria) Vol II by Sarah Tytler

S >> Sarah Tytler >> Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, (Victoria) Vol II

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"I must not omit to mention an interesting episode of this day, viz:--
the visit of the good old Duke on this his eighty-second birthday to
his little godson, our dear little boy. He came to us both at five,
and gave him a golden cup and some toys, which he had himself chosen,
and Arthur gave him a nosegay.

"We dined _en famille_, and then went to the Covent Garden Opera,
where we saw the two finest acts of the _Huguenots_ given as
beautifully as last year. I was rather tired, but we were both so
happy, so full of thankfulness! God is indeed our kind and merciful
Father."

In answer to Lord John Russell's statement, on the close of the
Exhibition, that the great enterprise and the spirit in which it had
been conducted would contribute "to give imperishable fame to Prince
Albert," the Queen asserted that year would ever remain the happiest
and proudest of her life.




CHAPTER XIX.


THE QUEEN'S "RESTORATION BALL" AND THE "GUILDHALL BALL."

The season of the first Exhibition was full of movement and gaiety, in
which the Queen and Prince Albert joined. They had also the pleasure
of welcoming their brother and sister, the Duke and Duchess of Saxe
Coburg, who arrived to witness the Prince's triumph. As usual he came
forward on every occasion when his services, to which his position and
personal gifts lent double value, were needed--whether he presided at
an Academy dinner, or at a meeting of the Society for the Propagation
of the Gospel, or laid the foundation of the Hospital for Consumption,
or attended the meeting of the British Association, and the Queen
delighted in his popularity and usefulness.

On the 4th of May Baroness Bunsen was at Stafford House "when her
there," and thus describes the Queen. "The Queen looked charming, and I
could not help the same reflection that I have often made before, that
she is the only piece of _female royalty_ I ever saw who was also a
creature such as almighty God has created. Her smile is a _real_ smile,
her grace is _natural_; although it has received a high polish from
cultivation, there is nothing artificial about it. Princes I have seen
several whose first characteristic is that of being _men_ rather than
princes, though not many. The Duchess of Sutherland is the only person I
have seen, when receiving the Queen, not giving herself the appearance
of a visitor in her own house by wearing a bonnet."

On the 16th of May the Queen and the Prince were at Devonshire House,
when Lord Lytton's comedy of "Not so Bad as we Seem" was played by
Dickens, Foster, Douglas Jerrold, on behalf of the new "Guild of
Literature and Art," in which hopes for poor authors were cheerfully
entertained.

On the 23rd of May Lord Campbell was anticipating the Queen's third
costume ball with as much complacency as if the eminent lawyer had
been a young girl. "We are invited to the Queen's fancy ball on the
13th of June," he wrote "where we are all to appear in the characters
and costume of the reign of Charles II. I am to go as Sir Matthew
Hale, Chief Justice, and I am now much occupied in considering my
dress, that is to say, which robe I am to wear--scarlet, purple, or
black. The only new articles I shall have to order are my black velvet
coif, a beard with moustaches, and a pair of shoes with red heels, and
red rosettes."

The period chosen for the Restoration Ball was the time midway between
the dates of the Plantagenet and the Powder Ball.

As on former occasions, the Court walked in procession to the throne-
room, where each quadrille passed in turn before the Queen and Prince
Albert.

Her Majesty's dress was of grey watered silk, trimmed with gold and
silver lace, and ornamented with bows of rose-coloured riband fastened
by bouquets of diamonds. The front of the dress was open, and the
under-skirt was made of cloth of gold embroidered in a shawl pattern
in silver. The gloves and shoes were embroidered alternately with
roses and _fleurs-de-lys_ in gold. On the front of the body of
the dress were four large pear-shaped emeralds of great value. The
Queen wore a small diamond crown on the top of her head, and a large
emerald set in diamonds, with pearl loops, on one side of the head;
the hair behind plaited with pearls.

Prince Albert wore a coat of rich orange satin, brocaded with gold,
the sleeves turned up with crimson velvet, a pink silk epaulette on
one shoulder; a baldrick of gold lace embroidered with silver for the
sword; the breeches of crimson velvet with pink satin bows and gold
lace, the stockings of lavender silk, the sash of white silk, gold
fringed.

There were four national quadrilles. The English Quadrille was led by
the Marchioness of Ailesbury; the Scotch Quadrille was under the
guidance of the young Marchioness of Stafford, daughter-in-law of the
Duke of Sutherland; the French Quadrille was led by Countess Flahault,
the representative of the old barons Keith, and the wife of a
brilliant Frenchman; the Spanish Quadrille was marshalled by Countess
Granville. There were two more Quadrilles, the one under the control
of the Countess of Wilton, the other, called the "Rose Quadrille," led
by Countess Grey.

With all due deference to the opinion of the late Mr. Henry Greville,
the accounts of these quadrilles leave the impression not only that
they were arranged with finer taste, but that a considerable advance
had been made in artistic perception and sense of harmony. The ladies
in each quadrille were dressed alike, so were the gentlemen; thus
there were no harsh contrasts. In the English set the ladies wore blue
and white silk gowns with trimmings of rose-colour and gold. The
gentlemen were in scarlet and gold, and blue velvet. Lady Waterford
was in this set, and Lady Churchill, daughter of the Marquis of
Conyngham, long connected with the Court. The Duke of Cambridge and
Prince Edward of Saxe Weimar were among the gentlemen in the set.

Certainly it is a little hard to decide on what principle the
exceedingly piquant costume of the ladies in the Scotch Quadrille was
classed as Scotch. The ladies wore riding-habits of pale green taffeta
ornamented with bows of pink ribbon, and had on grey hats with pink
and white feathers. Lady Stafford carried a jewelled riding-whip. The
gentlemen were in Highland costume.

In the French Quadrille the ladies wore white satin with bows of light
blue ribbon opening over cloth of gold. The gentlemen were in the
uniform of _Mousquetaires_. In this quadrille danced Lady
Clementina Villiers, with her "marble-like beauty." She had ceased to
be a Watteau shepherdess, and she had lost her companion shepherdess
of old, but her intellectual gifts and fine qualities were developing
themselves more and more. In the same dance was Lady Rose Lovell, the
young daughter of the Duke of Beaufort, whose elopement at the age of
seventeen with a gallant one-armed soldier had been condoned, so that
she still played her part in the Court gala.

In the Spanish Quadrille the ladies wore black silk over grey damask,
trimmed with gold lace and pink rosettes, and Spanish mantillas. The
gentlemen were in black velvet, with a Spanish order embroidered in
red silk on coat and cloak, grey silk stockings, and black velvet hats
with red and yellow feathers. In this quadrille were the matronly
beauties Lady Canning, Lady Jocelyn, and Lady Waldegrave.

After the quadrilles had been danced, the ladies falling into lines,
advanced to the throne and did reverence, the gentlemen forming in
like manner and performing the same ceremony. Her Majesty, and Prince
Albert then proceeded to the ballroom, where Lady Wilton's and Lady
Grey's quadrilles were danced. In the Rose Quadrille the ladies wore
rose-coloured skirts over white moire, with rose-coloured bows and
pearls, rose colour and pearls in the hair. Each lady wore a single
red rose on her breast.

After the quadrilles, the Queen opened the general ball by dancing the
_Polonnaise_ with Prince Albert, the Duke of Cambridge, and
Prince Edward of Saxe Weimar; Prince Albert dancing next with the
Duchess of Norfolk, the premier peeress present. The Queen danced
after supper with the Prince of Leiningen. He was at the Restoration
as he had been at the Powder Ball, and wore black velvet and gold lace
with orange ribbons.

The characters seem to have been chosen with more point than before.
The Countess of Tankerville personated a Duchesse de Grammont, in
right of her mother-in-law, Corisande de Grammont, grand-daughter of
Marie Antoinette's friend Gabrielle de Polignac.

Lady Ashburton was Madame de Sevigne, whose fashion of curls beginning
in rings on the forehead and getting longer and longer towards the
neck, was as much in demand for the ladies, as Philip Leigh's
lovelocks were for the gentlemen.

Lady Hume Campbell was "La Belle Duchesse de Bourgogne;" Lady
Middleton, Lucy Percy, Countess of Carlisle. Mrs. Abbot Lawrence
vindicated her American nationality by representing Anna Dudley, the
wife of an early governor of Massachusetts; Mr. Bancroft Davies,
secretary of the United States legation, figured as William Penn.

Lady Londonderry and Miss Burdett Coutts were still remarkable for the
splendour of their jewels. Lady Londonderry wore a girdle of diamonds,
a diamond _berthe_, and a head-dress a blaze of precious stones,
the whole valued roughly at a hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Miss
Burdett Coutts displayed a band of jewels, after the fashion of the
gentlemen's baldricks, passing over one shoulder and terminating in a
diamond clasp fastening back the upper skirt. After diamonds, which,
like the blossom of the gorse, may be considered as always _a la
mode_, the specialities of the Restoration Ball were Honiton lace,
which was reckoned in better keeping with falling collars than old
point, and an enormous expenditure of ribbons. Some of the magnificent
collars, such as that of Lord Overton, were manufactured for the
occasion. As for ribbons, not only did ladies' dresses abound in bows
and rosettes, the gentlemen's doublets, "trunks," and sleeves, were
profusely beribboned. The very shirt-sleeves, exposed by the coat-
sleeves terminating at the elbow, were bound and festooned with
ribbons; while from the ends of the waistcoat hung a waterfall of
ribbons, like a Highlander's philabeg. Verily, the heart of Coventry
must have rejoiced; the Restoration Ball might have been got up for
its special benefit.

The Duke of Wellington was in the scarlet and gold uniform of the
period, but he alone of all the gentlemen was privileged to wear his
own scanty grey hair, which rendered him conspicuous. The old man
walked between his two daughters-in-law, Lady Douro and Lady Charles
Wellesley.

Lord Galway wore a plain cuirass and gorget so severely simple that it
might have been mistaken for the guise of one of Cromwell's officers,
who were otherwise unrepresented.

Mr. Gladstone was there as Sir Leoline Jenkins, judge of the High
Court of Admiralty in Charles's reign. His dress was copied from an
engraving in the British Museum. It was quiet enough, but it is
difficult to realise "the grand old man" of to-day in a velvet coat
turned up with blue satin, ruffles and collar of old point, black
breeches and stockings, and shoes with spreading bows.

Sir Edwin Landseer, whom Miss Thackeray has described as helping to
dress some of the ladies for this very ball, was so studiously plain
that it must have looked like a protest against the use of
"properties" in his apparel. He wore a dress of black silk, with no
cloak, no mantle, no skirts to his coat. Round his neck was a light
blue scarf, hanging low behind. He had on a grey wig, imitating
partial baldness. There could have been no doubt of the historical
correctness of the dress, though there might have been some question
of its becomingness.

There were changes of some importance in the royal household at this
time, caused by the retirement of General, afterwards Sir George
Bowles, the Master of the Household, and of Mr. Birch, tutor to the
Prince of Vales. With the assistance of Baron Stockmar, fitting
successors for those gentlemen were found in Sir Thomas Biddulph and
Mr. Frederick Gibbes.

The ball at Guildhall had been fixed for the 2nd of July, but the day
was changed when it was remembered that the 2nd was the anniversary of
the death of Sir Robert Peel. The entertainment was a very splendid
affair. The city was continually progressing in taste and skill in
these matters, and the times were so prosperous as to admit of large
expenditure without incurring the charge of reckless extravagance. The
Queen, Prince Albert, and their suite left Buckingham Palace, in State
carriages, at nine o'clock on the summer evening, and drove through
brilliantly illuminated streets, densely crowded with large numbers of
foreigners as well as natives.

The great hall where the ball took place was magnificently fitted up,
many ideas for the decoration being borrowed from the Exhibition. Thus
there was a striking array of banners emblazoned with the arms of the
nations and cities which had contributed to the Exhibition. "Above the
centre shaft of each cluster of columns, shot up towards the roof a
silver palm-tree, glittering and sparkling in the brilliant light so
profusely shed around. On touching the roof these spread forth and
ended in long branches of bright clustering broad leaves of green and
gold, from which hung pendant rich bunches of crimson and ruby
sparkling fruit." The compartments beneath the balconies were filled
with pictures of the best known and most admired foreign contributions
to the Exhibition--such as the Amazon group, the Malachite gates, the
Greek Slave; &c., &c. Huge griffins had their places at the corners of
the dais supporting the throne, while above it a gigantic plume of
Prince of Wales's feathers reared itself in spun glass. The chambers
and corridors of the Mansion House were fitted up with "acres of
looking-glass, statuary, flowers, &c., &c.," provided for the crowd of
guests that could not obtain admittance to the hall, where little room
was left for dancing. The supper, to which the Queen was conducted,
was in the crypt. It was made to resemble a baronial hall, "figures in
mediaeval armour being scattered about as the bearers of the lights
which illuminated the chamber." Before leaving, in thanking the Lord
Mayor (Musgrove) for his hospitality, the Queen announced her
intention of creating him a baronet. Her Majesty and the Prince took
their departure at one o'clock, returning to Buckingham Palace through
the lit streets and huzzaing multitude.




CHAPTER XX.


ROYAL VISITS TO LIVERPOOL AND MANCHESTER--CLOSE OF THE EXHIBITION.

On the 27th of August the Court left for Balmoral, travelling for the
most part by the Great Northern Railway, but not, as now, making a
rapid night and day journey. On the contrary, the journey lasted three
days, with pauses for each night's rest between. Starting from Osborne
at nine, the Royal party reached Buckingham Palace at half-past
twelve. Halting for an hour and a half, they set off again at two.
They stopped at Peterborough, where old Dr. Fisher, the Bishop, was
able to greet in his Queen the little Princess who had repeated her
lessons to him in Kensington Palace. No longer a solitary figure but
for the good mother, she was herself a wife and mother, the happiest
of the happy in both relations. The train stopped again at Boston and
Lincoln for the less interesting purpose of the presentation and
reception of congratulatory addresses on the Exhibition. The same
ceremony was gone through at Doncaster where the party stayed for the
night at the Angel Inn.

Leaving before nine on the following morning, after changing the line
of railway at York, and stopping at Darlington and Newcastle,
Edinburgh was reached in the course of the afternoon. Her Majesty and
the Prince, with their children, proceeded to Holyrood, and before the
evening was ended drove for an hour through the beautiful town. Here,
too, the Exhibition bore its fruit in the honour of knighthood
conferred on the Lord Provost.

On the third morning the travellers left again at eight o'clock, and
journeyed as far as Stonehaven, where the royal carriages met them,
and conveyed them to Balmoral, which was reached by half-past six. The
Prince had now bought the castle and estate, seven miles in length,
and four in breadth, and plans were formed for a new house more
suitable for the accommodation of so large a household.

On the day after the Queen and Prince Albert's arrival in the
Highlands, he received the news of the death of his uncle, brother to
the late Duke of Coburg and to the Duchess of Kent, Duke Ferdinand of
Saxe-Coburg.

There is little to record of the happy sojourn in the North this year,
with its deer-stalking, riding and driving, except that Hallam, the
historian, and Baron Liebig, the famous chemist, visited Sir James
Clark, the Queen's physician, at Birkhall, which he occupied, and were
among the guests at Balmoral.

It had been arranged that the Queen and the Prince should visit
Liverpool and Manchester on their way south, in order to give the
great cities of Lancashire the opportunity of greeting and welcoming
their Sovereign. It was the 8th of October before the royal party set
out on their homeward journey, ending the first of the shortening days
at Holyrood.

On the following day the strangers went on to the ancient dull little
town of Lancaster, and drove to the castle, where the keys were
presented, and an address read under John O'Gaunt's gateway. The tower
stairs were mounted for the view over Morcambe Bay and the English
lake country on the one hand, and away across level lands to the sea
on the other. Every native of the town "wore a red rose or a red
rosette, as emblems of the House of Lancaster."

The Queen and the Prince then proceeded to Prescot, where they left
the railway, driving through Lord Derby's fine park at Knowsley, to be
the guests of the Earl of Sefton at Croxteth. Next morning, when
Liverpool was to be visited, a _contretemps_ occurred. The
weather was hopelessly wet; the whole party had to go as far as
possible in closed carriages; afterwards the downpour was so
irresistible that the Prince's large cloak had to be spread over the
Queen and her children to keep them dry. But her Majesty's
commiseration is almost entirely for the crowd on foot, "the poor
people so wet and dirty." They spoil her pleasure in her enthusiastic
reception and the fine buildings she passes.

The royal party drove along the docks, and in spite of the rain got
out at the appointed place of embarkation, went on board the
_Fairy_, accompanied by the Mayor and other officials, and sailed
along the quays round the mouth of the Mersey, surveying the grand
mass of shipping from the pavilion on deck as well as the dank mist
would permit. On landing, the Town Hall and St. George's Hall were
visited in succession. In the first the Queen received an address and
knighted the Mayor. She admired both buildings--particularly St.
George's, which she called "worthy of ancient Athens," and said it
delighted Prince Albert. At both halls she presented herself on
balconies in order to gratify the multitudes below.

The Queen left Liverpool by railway, going as far as Patricroft, where
she was received by Lady Ellesmere and a party from Worsley, including
the Duke of Wellington, Lord and Lady Westminster, and Lord and Lady
Wilton. Her Majesty was to try a mode of travelling new to her. She
had arrived at the Bridgewater Canal, one of the greatest feats of
engineering in the last century, constructed by the public-spirited,
eccentric Duke of Bridgewater, and Brindley the engineer. The Queen
went on board a covered barge drawn by four horses. She describes the
motion as gliding along "in a most noiseless and dream-like manner,
amidst the cheers of the people who lined the sides of the canal."
Thus she passed under the "beautifully decorated bridges" belonging to
Lord Ellesmere's colliery villages.

Only at the hall-door of Worsley were Lord Ellesmere, lame with gout,
and Lord Brackley, his son, "terribly delicate" from an accident in
the hunting-field, the husband of one of the beautiful Cawdor
Campbells, able to meet their illustrious guests. Henry Greville says
her Majesty brought with her four children, two ladies-in-waiting, two
equerries, a physician, a tutor, and a governess. Men of mechanical
science seem to belong to Worsley, so that it sounds natural for the
Queen and the Prince to have met there, during the evening, Nasmyth,
the inventor of the steam-hammer, and to have examined his maps of his
investigations in the moon, and his landscape-drawings, worthy of his
father's son. The Queen and Prince Albert derived great pleasure from
their passing intercourse with a man of varied gifts, whose sterling
qualities they could well appreciate.

The next morning, the 10th of October, the weather was all that could
be wished, but another and even more unfortunate complication
threatened the success of the arrangements, on which the comfort of a
few and the gratification of many thousands of persons depended.
Prince Albert, never strong, was always liable to trying attacks of
sleeplessness and sickness. In the course of the night he had been
"very unwell, very sick and wretched for several hours." "I was
terrified for our Manchester visit" wrote the Queen in her journal.
"Thank God! by eight o'clock he felt much better, and was able to get
up" indefatigable as ever.

At ten the party started to drive the seven miles to Manchester,
escorted by Yeomanry and a regiment of Lancers, Lord Cathcart and his
staff riding near the Queen's carriage through an ever-increasing
crowd. The Queen was greatly interested in the rows of mill-workers
between whom she passed, "dressed in their best, ranged along the
streets, with white rosettes in their button-holes"--that patient,
easily pleased crowd, which has an aspect half comical, half pathetic.
Her Majesty admired the intelligent expression of both men and women,
but was painfully struck with their puniness and paleness. In the Peel
Park the visitors were greeted by a great demonstration, which her
Majesty calls "extraordinary and unprecedented," of no less than
eighty-two thousand school children, of every denomination, Jews as
well as Christians. The Queen received and replied to an address, from
her carriage, and the immense body of children sang "God save the
Queen."

The party then drove through the principal streets of Salford and
Manchester--the junction of the two being marked by a splendid
triumphal arch, under which the Mayor and Corporation (dressed for the
first time in robes of office--so democratic was Manchester), again
met the Queen and presented her with a bouquet. At the Exchange she
alighted to receive another address, to which she read an answer, and
knighted the Mayor. Her Majesty missed "fine buildings," of which,
with the exception of huge warehouses and factories, Manchester had
then none to boast; but she was particularly struck by the demeanour
of the inhabitants, in addition to what she was pleased to call their
"most gratifying cheering and enthusiasm." "The order and good
behaviour of the people, who were not placed behind any barriers, were
the most complete we have seen in our many progresses through capitals
and cities--London, Glasgow, Dublin, Edinburgh--for there never was a
running crowd, nobody moved and therefore everybody saw well, and
there was no squeezing...." The Queen heard afterwards that she had
seen a million of human beings that day. In the afternoon her Majesty
and the Prince, returned to Worsley.

Henry Greville tells an almost piteous incident of this visit, in
relation to the Duke of Wellington and his advanced age, with the
infirmities that could no longer be repelled. After saying that in
order to prevent the procession's becoming too large, no other guest
at Worsley was admitted into it, except the privileged old Duke, whom
the teller of the story describes as driving in the carriage with
Henry Greville's sister, Lady Enfield, one of the ladies in attendance
on the Queen, he goes on to mention "he (the Duke) was received with
extraordinary enthusiasm; notwithstanding Lady Enfield had to nudge
him constantly, to keep him awake, both going and coming, with very
little success." Lady Enfield adds a note to her brother's narrative.
"The whole scene was one of the most exciting I ever saw in my life.
Being carried away by the general enthusiasm, and feeling that the
people would be disappointed if no notice was taken of their cheering,
I at last exclaimed 'Duke, Duke, that's for _you_.' Thereupon he
opened his eyes, and obediently made his well-known salutation, two
fingers to the brim of his hat."

The next morning when the Prince had started by seven o'clock to
inspect a model factory near Bolton, while there was a long and busy
day before them, the Queen made a little entry in her journal which
will find a sorrowful echo in many a faithful heart, "This day is full
of sad recollections, being the anniversary of the loss of my beloved
Louise (Queen of the Belgians), that kind, precious friend, that
angelic being whose loss I shall ever feel."

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Fidel and Che: a revolutionary friendship

After last week's fairly open theme, I thought I'd go with something a bit more structured this time. As I type this, I'm listening to Steeleye Span and thinking about the great ballad traditions of Britain and Ireland. What is a ballad? I suppose the most inclusive definition would be that it's a singable narrative poem: that covers a multitude but will do for the moment.

Ballads in English stretch back to the middle ages, with fine examples to be found among the Scottish border ballads and the English Robin Hood poems. These early ballads are among the best-known poems and stories in the language, and form part of the common heritage of English speakers everywhere. They gave rise to a tradition of ballad-making that endures down to the present day.

In fact, most poets since have tried their hand at the ballad at one time or another, and the result has been to deny any definition more specific than the one I ventured in my first paragraph. If you look around the internet, you'll come up with a wide selection of poems that are called ballads but have little in common formally. Stanza length varies from two to 10 or more lines, and all sorts of metrical and rhyming patterns are used. A good number will be singable in only the loosest possible sense, and at times the narrative tends to get lost in a mesh of more-or-less successful verbal embroidery.

So, what should a ballad be? Well, "proper" ballad stanzas are quatrains in which the first and third lines have four stresses and the second and third have three. The lines will rhyme A-B-C-B or A-B-A-B. It's as simple, and as difficult, as that. Here's an example, from Robert Burns's extremely singable Comin Thro' the Rye:

Gin a body meet a body
          Comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body –
          Need a body cry.

Burns wrote a good number of ballads, and his lead was followed by many 19th-century poets. Two examples that I particularly like are Robert Browning's Confessions and Christina Rossetti's Up-Hill, but you can find ballads by just about any Romantic or Victorian poet if you look for them.

There is a long, strong tradition of ballads and ballad singers in Ireland, too. It is hardly surprising, then, that the great appropriator of tradition, WB Yeats, tried his hand at the form. At least four of his poems have the word "ballad" in the title; the pick of the bunch, for my money, is The Ballad of Father Gilligan, which may have benefited from having been written with a specific tune in mind.

Ballads continued to be written in the 20th century; perhaps the most unexpected exponents were Ezra Pound, with his Ballad of the Goodly Fere, and WH Auden. In fact, the ballad The Quarry is probably my favourite Auden poem.

And so, this week I invite a chorus of balladeering. You may choose to go the whole hog and write in ballad stanzas or you might prefer to take a more liberal view of the formal requirements. Either way, sing up and – as they say at all the best Irish sessions when calling for a bit of hush for the singer – one voice please.

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Obituary: Donald Westlake

The disputed Holocaust memoir, written by Herman Rosenblat, which was dropped from Penguin Group's publication schedule at the end of December is now set to appear as a work of fiction.

Rosenblat's memoir - which Oprah Winfrey called "the single greatest love story" she had heard in two decades in television - recounted how as a teenage boy in a Nazi concentration camp, he was kept alive by the food which was thrown to him by a young girl, Roma Radzicky. Penguin's US imprint Berkley Books had planned to publish the story, which sees Rosenblat reunited with Radzicky on a blind date years later, as Angel at the Fence: the True Story of a Love That Survived, next month.

But a Holocaust historian said it would have been impossible to approach the fence in the Schlieben concentration camp to throw food over it, concluding that this part of the story was made-up. Berkley initially defended the book, saying it was a work of memory, but then decided to cancel its planned publication, and demanded the return of the advance it had made to Rosenblat. A $25m film based on the book, to be called The Flower of the Fence, is still going ahead, with production due to start this year.

Publisher York House Press based in White Plains, New York, has entered into a tentative agreement with the film production company to publish a novel based on the film script early this spring. It said the book would be "grounded in fact", and would rise "to the proper levels of artistic value, ethical conduct and social responsibility".

A spokesperson for York House Press condemned the attacks which were made on the 80-year-old Rosenblat after the veracity of his story was questioned, describing them as a "savage" response to what was otherwise "a credible, heart-wrenching, and verifiable account" of his time in the concentration camp.

"No deliberate untruth is permissible, but beneath any fabrication is motivation and intent. We believe Mr. Rosenblat's motivations were very human, understandable and forgivable," the spokesperson said. "It is beyond our expertise to know how Holocaust survivors cope with their trauma. Do they deny, try to forget, rationalise or fantasise and promote fiction along with truth? Perhaps the coping mechanisms are as individual as the survivors themselves."

The president of the company producing the film, Harris Salomon from Atlantic Overseas Productions, said the book, "regardless of its shortcomings", would "challenge, educate and enlighten" readers about the horrors of the Holocaust. "The documented fact, acknowledged by his critics, is that Herman is a survivor of concentration camps," he said.

But Rosenblat's agent, Andrea Hurst, said that neither she nor Rosenblat were involved with this version of his story. "Usually book rights from films come out after the movie is released," she told guardian.co.uk. "I think the timing on this is very insensitive."

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