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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




It was on this occasion that there was a family masque, of which
Baroness Bunsen, who was present, has given a full description. She
tells how, between five and six o'clock in the evening, the company
followed the Queen and the Prince to a room where a red curtain was
let down. They all sat in darkness till the curtain was drawn aside,
"and the Princess Alice, who had been dressed to represent 'spring,'
recited some verses taken from Thomson's "Seasons," enumerating the
flowers which the spring scatters around, and she did it very well,
spoke in a distinct and pleasing manner, with excellent modulation,
and a tone of voice like that of the Queen. Then the curtain was drawn
up, and the whole scene changed, and the Princess Royal represented
'summer,' with Prince Arthur lying upon some sheaves, as if tired with
the heat of the harvest work; the Princess Royal also recited verses.
Then again there was a change, and Prince Alfred, with a crown of
vine-leaves and a panther's skin, represented 'autumn,' and recited
also verses and looked very well. Then there was a change to a winter
landscape, and the Prince of Wales represented 'winter,' with a white
beard and a cloak with icicles or snow-flakes (or what looked like
such), and the Princess Louise, warmly clothed, who seemed watching
the fire; and the Prince also recited well a passage altered from
Thomson.... Then another change was made, and all the seasons were
grouped together, and far behind, on high, appeared the Princess
Helena, with a long veil hanging on each side down to her feet, and a
long cross in her hand, pronouncing a blessing on the Queen and Prince
in the name of all the seasons. These verses were composed for the
occasion. I understood them to say that St. Helena, remembering her
own British extraction, came to utter a blessing on the rulers of her
country; and I think it must have been so intended, because Helena the
mother of Constantine, the first Christian emperor, was said to have
discovered the remains of the cross on which our Saviour was
crucified, and so when she is painted she always has a cross in her
hand. But grandpapa understood that it was meant for Britannia
blessing the royal pair. At any rate, the Princess Helena looked very
charming. This was the close; but when the Queen ordered the curtain
to be drawn back, we saw the whole royal family, and they were helped
to jump down from their raised platforms; and then all came into the
light and we saw them well; and the baby, Prince Leopold, was brought
in by his nurse, and looked at us all with big eyes, and wanted to go
to his papa, Prince Albert. At the dinner-table the Princesses Helena
and Louise and Prince Arthur were allowed to come in and stand by
their mamma, the Queen, as it a was festival day.... In the evening
there was very fine music in St. George's Hall, and the Princess Royal
and Princess Alice, and the Prince of Wales and Prince Alfred, were
allowed to stop up and hear it, sitting to the right and left of the
chairs where sat the Queen and Prince Albert and the Duchess of Kent."
Some of the graceful figures in the pretty masque were given, with
modifications, by the sculptor's art. Four are reproduced in the
engravings in this book, that of the Princess Royal at page 146, that
of Princess Alice at page 190, that of the Prince of Wales at page
153, and that of Prince Alfred at page 224, Volume First.

On the 7th of February Baron Brunnow, who had been Russian ambassador
in England for fifteen years, quitted London. Notes were dispatched on
the 27th from London and Paris to St. Petersburg, calling on Russia to
evacuate the Principalities, a summons to which the Czar declined to
reply. War was declared in a supplemental gazette, and on the 31st of
March the declaration was read, according to ancient usage, from the
steps of the Royal Exchange by the Sergeant-at-Arms of the City of
London, to a great crowd that wound up the ceremony by giving three
cheers for the Queen. Part of the troops had already embarked, their
marching and embarkation being witnessed by multitudes with the utmost
interest and enthusiasm. The chief sight was the departure of the
Guards, the Grenadiers leaving by gaslight on the winter morning, the
Fusiliers marching to Buckingham Palace, where at seven o'clock the
Queen and the Prince, with their children, were ready to say good-bye.
"They formed line, presented arms, and then cheered us very heartily,
and went off cheering," the Queen wrote to the King of the
Belgians.... "Many sorrowing friends were there, and one saw the shake
of many a hand. My best wishes and prayers went with them all." It was
a famous scene, which is remembered to this day. Another episode was
that of the Duchess of Cambridge and her daughter, the Princess Mary,
taking leave of the brigade with which the Duke of Cambridge, the only
son and brother, left.

Her Majesty and the Prince started for Osborne in the course of the
next fortnight, to visit the superb fleet which was to sail from
Spithead under Sir Charles Napier. "It will be a solemn moment," the
Queen wrote again to Lord Aberdeen; "many a heart will be very heavy,
and many a prayer, including our own, will be offered up for its
safety and glory." In spite of the bad weather, which marred the
arrangements, the Queen sailed from Portsmouth in the _Fairy_,
and passing the _Victory_, with its heroic associations, went
through the squadron of twenty great vessels, amidst the booming of
the guns, the manning of the yards, and the cheers of the sailors. The
following day the little _Fairy_, with its royal occupants,
played a yet more striking part. At the head of the outward-bound
squadron, it sailed with the ships for several miles, then stopped for
the fleet to pass by, the Queen standing waving her handkerchief to
the flag-ship. Her Majesty was, as she said, "very enthusiastic" about
her army and navy, and wished she had sons in both of them, though she
foresaw how she would suffer when she heard of the losses of her brave
men. If she had not sons in either service, her cousin, the Duke of
Cambridge, was with the Guards for a time, and her young nephews,
Prince Victor of Hohenlohe and Prince Ernest Leiningen, were with
their ships. The Queen paid the same compliment of giving a farewell
greeting to the second division of the fleet.

When the address to the Throne in reply to the Queen's message
announcing the declaration of war was presented, her Majesty and the
Prince were accompanied to the House for the first time by the Prince
of Wales, a boy of thirteen.

In the middle of the worry, the season was gay as if no life-blood was
drained in strong currents from the country; and Varna, with its
cholera swamps, where the troops had encamped on Turkish soil, was not
present to all men's minds. The Queen set an example in keeping up the
social circulation without which there would be a disastrous collapse
of more than one department of trade. On May-day, Prince Arthur's
birthday, there was a children's ball, attended by two hundred small
guests, at Buckingham Palace. Sir Theodore Martin quotes her Majesty's
merry note, inviting the Premier to come and see "a number of happy
little people, including some of his grandchildren, enjoying
themselves." Among the grandchildren of Lord Aberdeen were the young
sons of Lord Haddo--sinking under a long wasting illness--George,
sixth Earl of Aberdeen, who, when he came to man's estate, served as
an ordinary seaman in a merchant ship, where his rank was unsuspected,
and who perished by being washed overboard on a stormy night; and the
Honourable James Gordon, who died from the bursting of his gun when he
was keeping his terms at Cambridge.

The Queen honoured Count Walewski, the French ambassador, by her
presence at one of the most brilliant of costume balls. A great Court
ball was followed by a great Court concert, at which Lablache sang
again in England after an interval of many years. Among the visitors
to London in June were poor Maria da Gloria's sons, Coburgs on the
father's side, young King Pedro of Portugal, and his brother, the Duke
of Oporto, fine lads who were much liked wherever they went.

The Queen and the Prince spent her Majesty's birthday at Osborne, and
commemorated it to their children by putting them in possession of the
greatest treasure of their happy childhood--the Swiss cottage in the
grounds, about a mile from the Castle, in which youthful princes and
princesses played at being men and women, practised the humbler duties
of life, and kept natural history collections and geological
specimens, as their father and uncle had kept theirs in the museum at
Coburg. Another great resource consisted of the plots of ground--among
which the Princess Royal's was a fair-sized garden, ultimately nine in
number, where the amateur gardeners studied gardening in the most
practical manner, and had their tiny tool-house, with the small spades
and rakes properly grouped and duly lettered, "Prince Alfred" or
"Princess Louise," as the case might be. A third idea, borrowed like
the first from Coburg, was the miniature fort, with its mimic
defences, every brick of which was made and built, and the very
cannon-balls founded, by the two sons destined to be soldiers--the
Prince of Wales and Prince Arthur.

Before the end of the season cholera broke out in London. Among its
victims was Lord Jocelyn, eldest son of Lord Roden, and husband of
Lady Fanny Cowper. He had been on guard at the palace, and died after
an illness of not more than two hours' duration in the drawing-room of
his mother-in-law, Lady Palmerston.

The Queen came up to town to prorogue Parliament in person. Afterwards
her Majesty and the Prince spent his birthday at Osborne, when one of
the amusements, no doubt with a view to the entertainment of the
children as well as of the grown-up people, was Albert Smith's "Ascent
of Mont Blanc," which was then one of the comic sights of London.

Early in September Prince Albert, in compliment to the alliance
between England and France, went, by the Emperor's invitation, to
visit the French camp at St. Omer, and was absent four or five days.
The Prince's letters were as constant and lover-like as ever.

On the 15th of September the Court arrived at Balmoral, and the same
day the Queen received the news of the sailing of the English and
French soldiers for the Crimea. An anxious but brief period of
suspense followed. Six days later came the tidings of the successful
landing, without opposition, in the neighbourhood of Eupatoria.

Lord Aberdeen came on a visit to Balmoral, and had just left when the
glad tidings arrived of the victory of the Alma, followed immediately
by a false report of the fall of Sebastopol.

During this year's stay in the north, her Majesty met for the first
time a remarkable Scotchman whom she afterwards honoured with her
friendship. Both the Queen and Dr. Macleod describe the first sermon
he preached before her, on Christian life. He adds, "In the evening,
after _daundering_ in a green field with a path through it which
led to the high-road, and while sitting on a block of granite, full of
quiet thoughts, mentally reposing in the midst of the beautiful
scenery, I was roused from my reverie by some one asking me if I was
the clergyman who had preached that day. I was soon in the presence of
the Queen and Prince, when her Majesty came forward and said with a
sweet, kind, and smiling face, 'We wish to thank you for your sermon.'
She then asked me how my father was, what was the name of my parish,
&c.; and so, after bowing and smiling, they both continued their quiet
evening walk alone." [Footnote: Life of Dr. Norman Macleod.]

The Court returned from Balmoral by Edinburgh. At Hull, and again at
Grimsby, the Queen and the Prince inspected the docks, of which he had
laid the foundation stones.




CHAPTER XXV.


THE BATTLE OF INKERMANN--FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE--THE DEATH OF THE
EMPEROR NICHOLAS.

In the beginning of November England heard with mingled triumph and
pain of the repulsed attack on the English at Balaclava on the 25th of
October, and of the charge of the Light Brigade.

The number of the English soldiers in the field fell lower and lower.
The Queen wrote to King Leopold, "We have but one thought, and so has
the nation, and that is--Sebastopol. Such a time of suspense, anxiety,
and excitement, I never expected to see, much less to feel."

On the 13th of November telegrams arrived with the news of the battle
of Inkermann, fought against terrible odds on the 5th.

The Queen wrote herself to Lord Raglan to tell of her "pride and joy"
at receiving the intelligence of "the glorious, but alas! bloody
victory of the 5th." She conferred upon him the baton of a Field-
Marshal. Her Majesty also addressed a kind and sympathising letter to
the widow of Sir George Cathcart.

The Queen wrote with high indignation to the King of the Belgians
after the battle of Inkermann: "They (the enemy) behaved with the
greatest barbarity; many of our poor officers who were only slightly
wounded were brutally butchered on the ground. Several lived long
enough to say this. When poor Sir G. Cathcart fell mortally wounded,
his faithful and devoted military secretary (Colonel Charles Seymour)
... sprang from his horse, and with one arm--he was wounded in the
other--supported his dying chief, when three wretches came and
bayoneted him. This is monstrous, and requisitions have been sent by
the two commanders-in-chief to Menschikoff to remonstrate...."

The winter of 1854-55 was a sorrowful and care-laden time. Little or
no progress was made in the war, while in the meanwhile the sufferings
of the soldiers from a defective commissariat, a rigorous climate, and
the recurring ravages of cholera, were frightful. The very winds and
waves seemed to fight against the allies and to side with "Holy
Russia." Never had the Black Sea been visited by such storms and
wrecks.

From the palace to the cottage, women's fingers worked eagerly and
unweariedly knitting comforters and muffatees to protect the throats
and wrists of the shivering men. We have heard that the greatest lady
in the land deigned thus to serve her soldiers. We have been told of
a cravat worked in crochet by a queen's fingers which fell to the
share of a gallant young officer in the trenches--the same brave lad
who had carried, unscathed, the colours of his regiment to the heights
of the Alma.

The hospitals were in as disorganised a state as the commissariat, and
Mr. Sydney Herbert, well-nigh in despair, had the bright inspiration
of sending to the seat of war Florence Nightingale, the daughter and
co-heiress of a Derbyshire squire, with a staff of nurses.

Such reformation of abuses was wrought by a capable devoted woman,
such order brought out of disorder, such comfort and consolation
carried to wounded and dying men, that the experiment became a
triumphant success. Many were the stories told of the soldiers'
boundless reverence for the woman who had left country and friends and
all the good things that wealth and rank can command to relieve her
fellow-creatures; how one of them was seen to kiss her shadow on the
wall of his ward as she passed; how the convalescents engaged in
strange and wonderful manufactures of gifts to offer to her.

A second large instalment of nurses was sent out after the first, the
latter led by Mary Stanley, daughter of the Bishop of Norwich, and
sister of the Dean of Westminster, who had already been a sister to
the poor in her father's diocese.

The Queen wrote again to Lord Raglan, "The sad privations of the army,
the bad weather, and the constant sickness, are causes of the deepest
concern and anxiety to the Queen and the Prince. The braver her noble
troops are, the more patiently and heroically they bear all their
trials and sufferings, the more miserable we feel at their long
continuance. The Queen trusts that Lord Raglan will be _very
strict_ in seeing that no unnecessary privations are incurred by
any negligence of those whose duty it is to watch over their wants.

"The Queen heard that their coffee was given them green instead of
roasted, and some other things of this kind, which have distressed
her, as she feels so anxious that they should be as comfortable as
circumstances can admit of. The Queen earnestly trusts that the large
amount of warm clothing sent out has not only reached Balaclava, but
has been distributed, and that Lord Raglan has been successful in
procuring the means of hutting for the men. Lord Raglan cannot think
how much we suffer for the army, and how painfully anxious we are to
know that their privations are decreasing.... The Queen cannot
conclude without wishing Lord Raglan and the whole of the army, in the
Prince's name and her own, a happy and _glorious_ new year."

No sooner had Parliament reassembled than Mr. Roebuck brought forward
his famous motion for the appointment of a committee to inquire into
the state of the army and the management of the War Department of the
Government.

Lord John Russell resigned office, and there was a threatened
resignation of the whole Ministry, an ill-timed step, which was only
delayed till Mr. Roebuck's motion was carried, by a large majority,
not amidst the cheers, but to the odd accompaniment of the derisive
laughter of the Liberal members who had voted for the motion. Lord
Aberdeen's Ministry immediately resigned office; and after an abortive
attempt on the part of Lord Derby, at the request of the Queen, to
form a new Ministry, Lord Lansdowne and Lord John Russell were in
succession asked to take the leadership, but each in his turn had to
own his inability to get the requisite men to act under him. In
summoning Lord John Russell to become Premier, the Queen had expressed
a wish that Lord Palmerston--the man to whom the country looked as the
only proper war minister--should take office. The wish, especially
flattering and acceptable to Lord Palmerston, because it indicated
that old differences were forgotten, was in marked keeping with a
certain magnanimity and candour--excellent qualities in a sovereign--
which have been prominent features in her Majesty's character.

Lord John Russell having been as unsuccessful as his predecessors in
forming a Ministry, Lord Palmerston was sent for by the Queen and
offered the premiership, and the most popular minister of the day was
soon able, to the jubilation of the country, to construct a Cabinet.

On the 10th of February, the anniversary of the Queen's marriage-day,
there was this year, as usual, a home festival, with the nursery drama
of "Little Red Riding Hood" performed by the younger members of the
family, and appropriate verses spoken by Princess Alice, who seems to
have been the chosen declaimer among the princes and princesses. But
beneath the rejoicing there were in the elders anxiety, sympathetic
suffering, and the endurance of undeserved suspicion. The committee
carrying out the inquiry proposed by Mr. Roebuck's motion, conceived
most unjustly that the Prince's hostile influence prevented them from
obtaining the information they desired. The Queen's health was
suffering from her distress on account of the hardships experienced by
her soldiers, so that when Lord Cardigan returned to England, repaired
to Windsor, and had the royal children upon his knee, they said, "You
must hurry back to Sebastopol and take it, else it will kill mamma!"

On the 2nd of March the strange news burst upon Europe, exciting
rather a sense of solemnity than any less seemly feeling, of the
sudden death of the Emperor Nicholas, former guest and fervent friend
of the Queen--for whom she seems to have retained a lingering, rueful
regard--grasper at an increase of territory, disturber of the peace of
Europe, dogged refuser of all mediation. He had an attack of
influenza, but the real cause of his death is said to have been bitter
disappointment and mortification at his failure to drive the allies
out of the Crimea. The "Generals, January and February," on whom he
had counted to work his will, laid him low.


CHAPTER XXVI.


INSPECTION OF THE HOSPITAL AT CHATHAM--VISIT OF THE EMPEROR AND
EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH--DISTRIBUTION OF WAR MEDALS.

On the 3rd of March, the Queen and the Prince, with the Prince of
Wales, Prince Alfred and the Duke of Cambridge, visited the hospital
at Chatham, to which many of the wounded and sick soldiers had been
brought home. The whole of the invalids who were in a condition to
leave their beds "were drawn up on the lawn," each having a card
containing his name and services, his wounds, and where received. Her
Majesty passed along the line, saying a few kind words to those
sufferers who particularly attracted her notice, or to those whose
services were specially commended. It is easy to imagine how the
haggard faces would brighten and the drooping figures straighten
themselves in that royal and gentle presence.

In the course of the month, at an exhibition and sale of water-colour
drawings and pictures by amateurs, in aid of a fund for the widows and
orphans of officers in the Crimea, the artistic talent of which there
have been many proofs in the Queen's and the Prince's children, was
first publicly shown. A water-colour drawing by the Princess Royal,
already a fine girl of fifteen--whose marriage was soon to be mooted,
in which she had represented a woman weeping over a dead grenadier,
displayed remarkable merit and was bought for a large price.

On the 16th of April the Emperor and Empress of the French arrived in
England on a visit to the Queen. The splendid suite of rooms in
Windsor Castle which includes the Rubens, Zuccarelli, and Vandyck
rooms, were destined for the imperial guests. And we are told that, by
the irony of fate, the Emperor's bedroom was the same that had been
occupied on previous occasions by the late Emperor Nicholas and King
Louis Philippe. Sir Theodore Martin refers to a still more pathetic
contrast which struck the Queen. He quotes from her Majesty's journal
a passage relating to a visit paid by the old Queen Amelie to Windsor
two or three days before. "It made us both so sad to see her drive
away in a plain coach with miserable post-horses, and to think that
this was the Queen of the French, and that six years ago her husband
was surrounded by the same pomp and grandeur which three days hence
would surround his successor."

Prince Albert received the travellers at Dover in the middle of a
thick mist which had delayed the _corvette_, hidden the English
fleet, and somewhat marred what was intended to have been the
splendour of the reception. After the train had reached London, the
drive was through densely crowded streets, in which there was no lack
of enthusiasm for the visitors.

The strangers did not reach Windsor till past seven. The Queen had
been waiting for them some time in one of the tapestry rooms near the
guard-room. "The expectation and agitation grew more intense," her
Majesty wrote in her diary. "The evening was fine and bright. At
length the crowd of anxious spectators lining the road seemed to move;
then came a groom; then we heard a gun, and we moved towards the
staircase. Another groom came. Then we saw the advanced guard of the
escort; then the cheers of the crowd burst forth. The outriders
appeared, the doors opened, I stepped out, the children and Princes
close behind me; the band struck up "Partant pour la Syrie," the
trumpets sounded, and the open carriage, with the Emperor and Empress,
Albert sitting opposite to them, drove up, and they got out.

"I cannot say what indescribable emotions filled me, how much all
seemed like a wonderful dream. These great meetings of sovereigns,
surrounded by very exciting accompaniments, are always very agitating.
I advanced and embraced the Emperor, who received two salutes on
either cheek from me, having first kissed my hand. I next embraced the
very gentle, graceful, and evidently very nervous Empress. We
presented the Princes (the Duke of Cambridge and the Prince of
Leiningen, the Queen's brother) and our children (Vicky, with very
alarmed eyes, making very low curtsies); the Emperor embraced Bertie;
and then we went upstairs, Albert leading the Empress, who in the most
engaging manner refused to go first, but at length with graceful
reluctance did so, the Emperor leading me, expressing his great
gratification at being here and seeing me, and admiring Windsor."
[Footnote: Life of the Prince Consort.]

Her Majesty was pleased with the Emperor; his low soft voice and quiet
manner were very attractive. She was delighted with the Empress, of
whom she repeatedly wrote with admiration and liking. "She is full
courage and spirit," the Queen described her visitor, "yet so gentle,
with such innocence and _enjouement_, that the _ensemble_ is
most charming. With all her great liveliness, she has the prettiest
and most modest manner." There were morning walks during the
visitors' stay, and long conversations about the war. A deputation
from the Corporation of London came down to Windsor, and presented the
Emperor with an address. There was a review of the Household troops in
the Great Park, to which the Queen drove with the Empress. The
Emperor, the Prince, and the Duke of Cambridge rode. There was a
tremendous enthusiastic crowd in the Long Walk, and considerable
pushing at the gates. The Queen was alarmed because of the spirited
horse the Emperor rode.

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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