by Roland Perry
There was a stalemate. No deal was acceptable to the stubborn Victoria. She would not have Conroy close to her in any role. She resisted the entreaties for three weeks after her birthday, and did not even respond to her half-brother, who offended her by butting in, at their mother’s behest. She was receptive to 50-year-old Stockmar, Leopold’s closest confidant, whom she respected. He had been an intimate of the royal family, notably at the death of Leopold’s first wife, Princess Charlotte. Stockmar had overseen the will of Victoria’s father, the Duke of Kent. Leopold had given Stockmar high praise for creating the Belgium Constitution, a tough assignment that needed intelligence, experience and a rare expertise. But Stockmar needed all these traits and more to handle Victoria. He was surprised to find that the just-turned eighteen-year-old had a strong mind and will of her own, contrary to what Leopold had told him. Stockmar believed he had a supreme sixth sense in understanding his medical patients’ psychology. It was found wanting in this case. No matter what verbal trick he tried, he could not manipulate Victoria. He may have wondered if she had been too shrewd in dealing with Leopold, himself the most cunning of political operators.
News from King William’s court in early June 1837 suggested he had just days to live.This increased the tensions at Kensington.The warring factions became more and more conscious of the diminishing time line. The duchess wrote to her daughter: ‘You are still very young, and all your success so far has been due to your Mother’s reputation. Do not be too sanguine in your own talents and understanding.’
This was less vehement than the abuse hurled at Victoria previously, yet it still was patronising and sardonic: a put-down. The princess was consoled by messages from Elphinstone, now in India, and fortified by knowing she was closer to being queen. She imagined that all would change on that day; she would have the power over her tormentors.
On 15 June, Lord Liverpool arrived at Kensington Palace to try a final mediation on behalf of Melbourne. He was not without connections in the Kent household; his eldest daughter, Lady Catherine Jenkinson, was one of the princess’s ladies in waiting. He spoke to Conroy, who reached the depths of his subterfuge by arguing that Victoria was unstable. She had been deeply depressed. Liverpool had no way of knowing that this had been brought on more than anything else by the mental battering she had been subjected to for the past three years. No-one so young and unformed, especially in the rarefied atmosphere of the most important royal court in the world, could have withstood the pressures she endured without incurring scars.
‘She is younger in intellect than in years,’ Conroy told Liverpool. ‘She has frivolous tastes and is obsessed with dress and fashion.’ He argued that Lehzen should be dismissed. Conroy wanted his own daughter,Victoire, to take her place.This was all part of the net that the duchess and he wished to draw tighter around the princess. Victoria detested Victoire and would never accept such a cruel and cynical swap. Liverpool responded by telling him that Victoria would have no private secretary. Conroy would be offered the job of keeper of the privy purse with no political power and only minor duties. Conroy would have been inwardly thrilled with this offer. He and the duchess wanted to get their hands on the Civil List money.They would sort out their intrinsic power and the size of their duties as they progressed.
Liverpool thought he was doing well. He then visited Victoria in her study on the first floor of her Kensington Palace quarters. She remained at her desk. Liverpool sat on a chair in front of it. She had insisted they meet without anyone else present and further surprised him by pulling out a paper with discussion headings.Victoria listened to Liverpool’s proposal.
‘We think it advisable that you not have a private secretary,’ he said.
‘Yes, that is acceptable,’ she said.
‘We do believe, however, that you should have Sir John Conroy as keeper of the privy purse.’
‘Not him. Not him under any circumstances.’
‘But why, your highness?’
‘Do you know of the number of slights and incivilities that I have endured from him?’
‘No, your highness.’
‘Then I suggest that you ask Lady Catherine. She knows how your much-favoured Sir John acts.’
‘I had no idea . . .’
‘I know of certain things involving him that give me no confidence in him. None at all. They are personal. They are to do with my family and some of them concern finances. I suggest that a person of his background should never, ever touch the finances of the crown.’
Liverpool was astonished yet impressed with Victoria. Like Stockmar before him, he left Kensington Palace convinced of her position and intransigence. Liverpool informed his good friend the Duke of Wellington of Victoria’s comments and he interpreted them to infer that there had been ‘familiarities between the duchess and Conroy’. He further supposed this to mean that they had been lovers. This rendition of events again fuelled the rumours about Victoria being Conroy’s daughter. Once more, without any proof, the rumours died away.
Whatever their relationship, Conroy and the duchess were desperate. They expected to hear of King William’s death any day. Then their positions would be in doubt. A state of siege developed at Kensington. Victoria, fearing the next moves by her ‘enemies’, locked herself in her room, only letting in Lehzen, who brought her meals. Conroy tried one more tack in a meeting with a confidant, the speaker of the House, James Abercromby. Conroy put forward his stock argument: Victoria was too unstable and immature to be queen. Abercromby sided with him and suggested she should be forced to sign over everything Conroy wanted. Conroy reflected on the advice. He had already tried coercion. He did not think the duchess had the fortitude for attempting more of it.
On the morning of 19 June 1837, Conroy was informed by his spy inside Windsor Castle that King William had just hours to live.The game was over. Conroy feared that Victoria may have won. The king died at 2.12 a.m. on 20 June 1837. In a tradition stretching back to the Normans in the eleventh century, a high-powered delegation—the lord chamberlain and the king’s physician—took a coach from Windsor to Kensington, arriving as dawn was breaking.The duchess received them. The lord chamberlain asked to see her daughter.
‘You cannot,’ the duchess replied. ‘She is sleeping.’
The lord chamberlain glanced at the physician and then said to the duchess: ‘I demand to see the queen!’
The stunned duchess fetched her daughter, Lehzen joining them. Victoria insisted on going alone to the anteroom where the delegation waited. As she entered, the two men fell to their knees. She motioned that they stand.The physician confirmed the death of King William IV. The lord chamberlain rambled a bit about his duty and protocol, and ended by informing her officially that she was now ‘Queen of England’.
Victoria reached out her hand. Both men kissed it. She now had the power she craved. A new, more profound game was about to commence.
6
ELPHINSTONE IN EXILE; VICTORIA VICTORIOUS
The first thing Elphinstone noticed on his day of arrival in Madras, on 6 March 1837, was the smell. Even before landing at Madras, an alien fragrance was borne out on the breeze, which had its own ‘mustiness’ as he described it in a letter to a courtier, Ernst of Hess, who passed it on to Victoria.
We were greeted by catamarans, made of logs bound together, each with a steerman and ten rowers, and were escorted on them for several miles to the shore through high breakers. I was glad of their expertise, for we were told that many sharks lingered hoping for a capsize! As we drew closer, we were enveloped by the oppressive heat and the smells. Some were recognizable and took their turn to dominate or mingle, noticeably burning cow dung here, pungent tobaccos there and as we moved through the crowded, dusty town, garlic, cooking oil, chillis.There were also Turmeric, ginger, cloves and anything you could think off in extremis. Closer to the governor’s residence, I picked up jasmine and sandalwood.
Elphinstone added that Ernst would have been ‘amused by the boatmen, whose attire was
wondrous in its simplicity; sometimes just a turban and an excuse for a loin-covering handkerchief, which often floated off with the wind’. He was struck by the contrast of ‘Black Town [the native quarter] and the spacious, elegant European quarters.The smooth, gravel roads are wide leading to the governor’s spacious mansion, with its lime-coloured walls that have a gloss like marble.’
He missed the drama surrounding the king’s demise as he settled into his new life. He was kept well informed by Ernst, who wrote him a hefty 44-page letter.‘Your departure greatly affected the king,’ he said.
I notice each time that people speak of you, for they often speak of you since your departure from Windsor Castle. And all the inmates of the castle regretted very sincerely that you were no longer amongst them. . .I was one of those who felt your absence the most. . .I expressed to his majesty your respectful homages and your last adieus. ‘God bless him,’ said the noble old monarch.
The British history of Madras began with Francis Day of the British East India Company buying a strip of coastal land in the Bay of Bengal on 22 August 1639. The new owners were allowed by the local Indian rulers to build Fort St George, which was the first substantial building of what would become a colonial town. Life was sedate and uneventful in the area for more than the next century until 1746 when the French, led by General La Bourdonnais, the Governor of Mauritius, took the town.The British regained control three years later through the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle.They fortified the town in case the marauding French decided they would like to plunder the place again. The strengthened town wall also would help keep at bay any possible threat from the Sultan of Mysore, Hyder Ali, who hated foreigners, especially infidels. By the time Elphinstone arrived the British had conquered most of the region. One by one, hostile princes of west and south India had been brought under the control of the East India Company. Only the Sikhs in the north were holding out; once they were defeated, the British would be left alone as the paramount power in the country.
Elphinstone’s ascendency to the Madras residency coincided with a period when threats seemed negligible from other empires or from within. He did not expect to encounter the problems his uncle had done when he was the ‘resident’ of Puna and ran into a war with the Marathas. Elphinstone, who had been an army man since leaving school at eighteen, envied his uncle Mountstuart, who assumed command of the military during the Battle of Khadki and won, despite his civilian background. Elphinstone would have preferred a military challenge, such as a small war or even a large one. It seemed unlikely. He would have to seek distinction in other areas.
The new governor would be expected to grow Madras further into an urban centre, and to develop its naval base. Anything else would be up to his initiative. Elphinstone was not enamoured with what he experienced at first, especially after the hustle and bustle of a monarch’s court in London at the heart of the empire. He struggled with the heat, flies and food, for which he did not at first have the constitution. He was ill in the first two months with stomach complaints and dysentery. After nine weeks of feeling miserable, Elphinstone ventured down to the governor’s stables at dawn one morning, when the coolest part of the day was almost over. He was surprised to see the tall, angular frame of a dark-haired woman riding a white stallion around a well-manicured paddock. She wore a white shirt and wide-brimmed hat.
Elphinstone asked his aide-de-camp, Captain Lennox: ‘Who is that woman? She doesn’t ride side-saddle.’
‘Oh, she is quite special, my lord. Her name is Husna Ahmed de Crepeney. The most beautiful young creature in Madras.’
They watched as she galloped closer.
‘Tell me about her.’
‘Bit of a mystery, but she is the most accomplished horsewoman. She trains and breeds them. Every Arabian stallion here has been trained by her.’
‘She’s a Muslim?’
‘Mother is. Father is an enigma, really. He is said to be a French aristocrat, albeit a commercially enterprising one.’
‘Family missed the guillotine, did it?’
‘Apparently so,’ Lennox smiled. ‘There is a bit of scandal about her background. Her father is a landowner, merchant. He did deals with our East India Company. He visited here several times and fell in love with a stunning high-class courtesan, with whom he had a child—Husna.’
‘She’s in our employ?’
‘Most assuredly. She studied medicine in Sweden but, of course, being a woman, was not allowed to qualify there or in France. So she decided to do medical work with animals instead. She said she likes horses more than people!’
‘How old?’
‘Early twenties.’
They watched as she lifted the horse’s tempo to a fast gallop and came close without acknowledging them. Elphinstone could see her face more clearly than before. She had jet-black eyebrows, dark eyes, high cheekbones and full, sensual lips.
‘What a dark beauty,’ he said softly.
‘Want to meet her, my lord?’
‘I meant the horse.’
Lennox looked around and realised the governor was joking.
‘Should I invite her over?’ Lennox asked
Elphinstone shook his head. ‘She’s at work,’ he said. ‘Send her an invitation to the presidency ball next month.’
‘Hmm. . .’
‘What, Lennox?’
‘That would be breaking tradition and convention, my lord.’
‘What convention?’ Elphinstone asked and then, by studying his aide-de-camp’s expression, added, ‘Ah, half-caste. . .?’
‘And her religious background, my lord.’
‘And she gets dirty training horses?’
‘Well, my lord, you’ve met all our people here.They are more, shall we say, “conventional”. . .’
‘Strait-laced?’
‘That as well.They would object, especially the wives.’
‘I would have thought only the wives.’
‘Yes my lord.The other thing bothering the memsahibs is that Miss Husna is not married. She is a real threat to the European women away from their culture. She would have to be chaperoned.’
They began to walk back to the governor’s residence.
‘I’ll chaperone her,’ Elphinstone said. ‘Stay and invite her for drinks on the balcony this evening.’
Lennox looked stunned.
‘Tell her several members of the staff are invited to meet the new governor,’ Elphinstone said, strolling away.
‘Are they really?’
‘No, they’re not.Tell her it’s informal attire this evening.’
Lennox wandered to the stables and signalled for de Crepeney to come in from her ride. She ignored his hand movement and he was forced to wait another ten minutes before she trotted over, dismounted and passed her horse to an Indian groom. Lennox put the invitation to her.
‘Was that the governor?’
‘Yes, it was, Miss de Crepeney.’
‘Then tell him if he wishes to invite me to anything, he introduces himself first.’
‘But that is the reason you’re invited this evening.’
‘Bloody English,’ she mumbled.
‘Wouldn’t say that to him. He’s a Scot.’
‘Even worse.’
‘Are you coming tonight?’
‘No.’
Husna signalled to a groom to saddle up another horse and strode off.
Lennox returned to the governor’s mansion and told Elphinstone of her rejection.
‘Still send her an invitation to the ball,’ he said,‘and please say I’ll be at the stables to ride tomorrow morning.’
‘She gets there at 4 a.m., my lord, to beat the weather on long rides.’
Elphinstone arrived before dawn the next day, this time in a light mist that reminded him of early mornings in Scotland. It had settled like an apparition over the low hills beyond the mansion and fields. He found de Crepeney helping the staff to feed and water the twenty or so mounts in the stables. A mix of aromas of feed, manure and hor
se-blanket sweat hung in the cool morning air.
They shook hands. He was surprised by her height and taken again by her dark beauty, which he described to the Prince of Orange as ‘the most outstandingly handsome woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her bone structure is unmatched; her eyes are like the night and most sensual.’ Her black leather boots tipped her over 6 ft (183 cm). She did not smile and remained aloof as she gave him a quick tour.
‘I’ve decided on the horse for you,’ she said. ‘It’s being saddled up now.’
Elphinstone was delighted by her odd, yet seductive French lilt that still managed an Indian resonance.
They wandered to the paddock. An Indian groom was placing a saddle on a large black charger.
‘Do you like him?’ de Crepeney asked, smiling for the first time.
‘Most impressive,’ Elphinstone said, circling the animal.‘Magnificent condition. Reminds me of my own charger at home.’
‘Which is now a Netherlander, no?’
‘How did you know that?’
‘It is the talk of the Orange court,’ she smiled widely, displaying beautiful teeth,‘and I have a friend there.’
Elphinstone glided onto the horse.
‘You are a born horseman,’ she commented. ‘Captain of the Royal Horse Guards, no?’
‘You are well informed,’ he said.
‘And a certain princess’s lover, no?’
‘Too well-informed,’ Elphinstone said frostily, ‘or misinformed. Who is your contact?’
‘The horse’s name is Victor,’ de Crepeney said, ignoring him and grinning slyly.‘He should suit you.’
Elphinstone dug his heels in and trotted off. He urged the big mount on and reached a gallop but then the animal became cantankerous. It jerked and reared and bucked. Elphinstone fought the reins, but the more he tried to restrain Victor, the more the horse reacted. He used all his experience and skill to steady him, but Victor behaved recklessly as it tried to throw him. Elphinstone careered around the paddock and could see de Crepeney mounting up near the stables. Distracted, he found himself sliding off Victor and hard onto the ground on his rear. De Crepeney trotted up, smiling.
