by Roland Perry
The now twenty-year-old Victoria was smitten again. Gone were the worries and nightmares about politics, the duchess, Lady Flora and her perceived low public support. Not even Elphinstone far away could intrude into her thoughts. The boy who fell asleep at dinner with his face nearly in the soup a few years earlier was now a twenty-year-old man.
‘This is the moment to seal it,’ Melbourne told her. ‘If he leaves without you asking him . . .’
‘I know, I know,’ Victoria said.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Oh, he is enchanting, beautiful!’ she said, and then paused.
‘Elphinstone is still in your thoughts?’
Victoria did not reply. She simply stared at Melbourne.
‘The rumour from India,’ he said with a sigh, ‘is that he is involved with someone. I am told reliably that they ride every morning together.’
Victoria was upset by the remark but kept her peace. After a long silence,Melbourne said:‘Most importantly,majesty,you must think more of Prince Albert’s suitability for the monarchy over a long marriage.’
‘You think he is right for that, don’t you?’
‘I can’t think of anyone more suitable at this time, majesty.’
Five days after Albert arrived,Victoria sent for him. Royal protocol called for her to propose to him. She was extremely nervous with her emotions running ahead of rational thought. But she had Melbourne’s full support and urging. She had been led to believe that she would never do better than Albert for the role she would propose for him. After the experiences she had been through and the lack of real love since Elphinstone departed, she was ready to be precipitate and take the gamble herself.Although it was protocol for the queen to do the asking, it took courage to put her proposal to him, but she steeled herself. Taking his hands in hers, she said:
‘Dear Albert, I do love you so, and would be honoured if you would share your life with me in marriage.’
‘My darling Victoria, nothing would give me greater pleasure.Yes, I want this too!’
Albert saw the proposal of love more as an offer to fulfil his dream to ‘do good’ on the world stage than anything else.
‘He was not in love with her,’ according to biographer Lytton Strachey. ‘Affection, gratitude, the natural reactions to the unqualified devotion of a lively young cousin who was also a queen—such feeling possessed him, but the ardours of reciprocal passion were not his.’
Melbourne saw Victoria straight after Albert departed the room. At first she ‘beat about the bush’ and talked about the weather and everything except what had just transpired. According to diarist Henry Greville she felt a little nervous with her old friend Melbourne. At last she summoned the courage.
‘I have got well through this with Albert,’ she said.
‘Oh!’ Melbourne responded, ‘you have!’
Victoria and Albert both burst in a lather of writing to relatives and friends expressing their love for each other. Leopold was triumphant. After such lengthy planning with Stockmar, he had achieved his aim. And Albert knew his place.
‘While I shall be untiring in my efforts and labours for the country to which I shall in future belong,’ he wrote, ‘I shall never cease to be a true German; a true Coburg and Gotha man.’
Victoria wrote to Elphinstone, trying to explain that while she had strong feelings for him, Albert was the only choice she was left with under the circumstances, which included her desire to be independent of her mother. But she held out hope to Elphinstone by saying she would endeavour to install him back into court at the first opportunity.
News of the royal romance swept the realm. Elphinstone’s uncle, Admiral Charles Fleming, aged 65, heard about it just as he was rejected by the government for the prestigious, highly paid position as master of her majesty’s hospital at Greenwich. He was a most unpopular figure. Victoria and Melbourne had no hesitation in turning him down. He decided to make veiled threats about exposing the (Elphinstone-Victoria) relationship if he did not get the job.Elphinstone was in Madras. Had he been in London Charles Fleming would not have pressured Victoria and the government. Melbourne heard that Charles was ill and probably would not live long.The royal ‘good news’ marriage story was dominating the papers and taking the public mind off weightier issues. Any ugly rumours in the press about the queen would spoil the romantic atmosphere and perhaps her image. A decision was made to grant Fleming the Greenwich hospital position, which, in effect, was giving in to a blackmail threat. Other potential distinguished appointees were aggrieved, given Fleming’s reputation.The hospital’s trustees were unhappy. Journalists and editors were informed and became suspicious of the appointment. Articles and press comment were hostile but thin on specific grievances. None had any idea why Fleming had been given the job. The Newcastle Courier, in summarising the leading London papers, noted that when the appointment was announced there was ‘much animadversion’ or adverse scrutiny ‘in the newspapers for some time since’ (the appointment had been announced on 18 October 1838). There was some comment about the esteem of the previous holder of the job, Sir Thomas Hardy, the flag captain to Admiral Lord Nelson and commander of HMS Victory at the Battle of Trafalgar. References were made to Charles’ being an Admiral of the Blue, the lowest ranking (in order, red, white and blue) of three. Readers were reminded that he was 40 when he married a 14-year-old, and that he had been disliked in the navy for his harshness in handling his crew. But the negative publicity soon died. Melbourne had once more avoided a major, perhaps disastrous development for Victoria.
Victoria was happy with the public reaction to the betrothal. It allowed her and Albert to learn about each other with little interference. She was pleased to note that Albert was interested in her dresses and would comment on them favourably. She wished to show him off when she reviewed the troops on a very cold November day.They both shivered, particularly Albert, who wore white cashmere pantaloons. Victoria was impressed enough to note in her diary that he had nothing on underneath them. Whether he wished to impress her or the troops or both was a moot point.
Soon the practicalities of what those labours, to which Albert would dedicate himself, would begin to reveal themselves. He was appalled that he had to explain, for the Tories’ benefit, that he was not a Catholic but a Protestant. He was annoyed, even insulted, by being offered £30,000 a year from the Civil List and not the £50,000 he expected.The Tories, with Wellington to the fore, had opposed the higher payment and this increased Victoria’s antipathy towards conservatives. They endeared themselves to her even less by dithering over whether Albert should become a Privy Councillor. He, in turn, was further irritated by having to accept being given Melbourne’s secretary, George Anson, a devoted Whig. Albert wanted his own German choice.He complained to Victoria, but was ignored. She did not want his countrymen monopolising him. It was the first moment she asserted her independence and was quickly followed by the second.Albert wanted a honeymoon at Windsor Castle. Victoria wrote to him, reminding him of his place. ‘I am the sovereign,’ she began and then explained that she was too busy and had to be ‘on the spot’ at Buckingham Palace and close to the political action. Albert was further disappointed to read that Melbourne would dine with them three or four times a week, and always on Sunday. There were already three people in the matrimonial partnership and it had yet to begin officially. All these issues, particularly the lower-than-expected annual pay, made him disgruntled. Leopold was concerned about Albert when he stopped in Brussels on his way to his wedding early in 1840. He informed Victoria that her future husband was not the sulky type, but could be somewhat melancholy if he thought he had not been treated well.
The initial rebuffs to Albert’s ‘position’ that exasperated him were to be expected. His ‘success’ in the foreign land of England would depend on how he reacted. His character was being tested, and it was this that would decide how he progressed. In the meantime the pragmatic, business-like and serious young man, dressed immodestly as a British field mar
shal, would slip back into the fairytale for the wedding on the morning of 10 February 1840.
The British Empire was embarking on a second era of expansion after the setback over the rebellion of the American colonies. French settlers in Canada had been influenced by French and American revolutions, and had revolted; Australia, still regarded as the ‘criminal colony’, was attracting free settlers and had to be managed; New Zealand had yet to be colonised; the Cape Colony (South Africa) had been won from the Dutch but needed attention; India was governed by the East India Company, which, as Elphinstone reminded Victoria often, was proving inadequate for controlling it. The young queen was yet to show any serious interest in political matters abroad. Leopold, Stockmar and Melbourne hoped that Albert—with his ambition, drive and fastidious care for comprehension of all things to do with the monarchy and government—would influence her. This was part of the promise that all the senior British figures, such as Wellington and Peel, saw in him and caused them to voice their approval of his role after contacts in his first months at court. Victoria had so many royal relatives in Europe that she was just beginning to absorb something of the politics in those countries, especially if it affected the relatives’ lives. But the only part of the world outside Britain and Europe that she was taking a keen early interest in was India. Letters from Elphinstone in Madras, either direct to her or passed to her from others, had built a romantic image of what had become known as the jewel in the crown of the empire.
Elphinstone had heard all sorts of unconfirmed reports about Victoria and Albert, but without official information travelling overland or by sea to India he was left in the dark and unaware of Victoria’s engagement. He had preoccupied himself with his education ‘reform’ and had managed to create preparatory and high schools. He engineered that he be presented with a demand for higher education signed by 70,000 residents of Madras, who wanted ‘some effective and liberal measures for the establishment of an improved system of national education’. Elphinstone had written the petition himself and it pressed the need for an English college. In response to his own ‘democratic’ demands, he created a plan to establish a university and then applied for extra funds from the British Treasury. Drawing on his own experience in Edinburgh’s Royal High School and at Eton, he envisaged twin departments. The first would be a high school for the cultivation of English literature, regional language, philosophy and science. The second department would provide instruction in the higher branches of literature and philosophy (British and Indian), and science. The university board was constituted in January 1840. (This was the precursor to the present Presidency College, Chennai.) It was a hard-fought beginning, yet Elphinstone envisaged much more, including a systematic education system for all India. He knew he could not deliver this in his relatively short tenure, but he was determined to be an early force in its development.
By coincidence he did not read Victoria’s letter telling of her engagement until the morning of 10 February 1840, her wedding day. The mail had arrived the night before and he had taken a few minutes in the morning to open the more important correspondence, which included the letter with Victoria’s personal seal. The news shocked him even though he had heard rumours about the betrothal. All Elphinstone’s vague, nagging sanguineness about a future relationship with her evaporated as he read and reread the letter. He looked at his calendar and realised it was the wedding day. It was a surreal moment. His first thought was to cancel his morning ride with Husna, but on reflection he was determined not to feel sorry for himself. After all, he rationalised later in a letter to Prince William of Orange, it was expected and he could do nothing to intervene. But it was still a shock and it left him reeling.
Elphinstone went on the morning ride with Husna but said nothing. She noticed his sullen mood when she did not receive an invitation for breakfast. In the afternoon, she heard the news from a close mutual friend of Victoria’s, Lady Edwina Barrington, the wife of a relative of a member of the board of the East India Company, who was on a sabbatical in Madras.
‘That explains the very sad figure this morning,’ Husna said to Lady Barrington.
Elphinstone had a business lunch on 10 February in Madras with Scottish merchants in which all participants agreed to wear kilts. He was distracted and mentioned to Prince William in the same letter that it was like a blur. He believed he addressed them, but did not think he spoke well. His mind was still in disarray at the news. Later in the day, still kilted, he wandered back to the mansion to confront writing a reply to Victoria. But first he sat in the shade on the front lawn and tried scribbling some verse. Elphinstone had been a contemporary of outstanding poets Tennyson and Shelley, who inspired him. He wrote a poem expressing his feelings about his relationship with Victoria. It was four verses.The first read:
I’ll hang up my harp in the willow tree,
And will off to the wars again;
My peaceful home has no charms for me;
The battlefield no pain.
The lady I love will soon be a bride,
With a diadem on her brow;
Oh why did she flatter my boyish pride?
She’s going to leave me now.
Then he returned to his office and his large, oak-panelled desk and wrote to Victoria. He stared at a blank page for many minutes before his quill rippled across it. He was consoled, he said, by her joy and he wished her and Albert a happy and productive marriage. A brief missive was all he could manage. He sent his apologies to the organisers of a mayor’s dinner, citing illness, and decided to dine alone at the residence. He would normally have one strong double malt Scotch whisky before his meal but this time he said to an Indian servant: ‘Leave the bottle.’
He was on his second glass when the servant entered the dining room. ‘My Lord, I am sorry to interrupt you,’ he said bowing, ‘but you have a visitor—’
‘Not tonight, Ravi, please.’
‘Lord, it is Miss Husna. She will not leave.’
‘What?’
‘She is very insistent about seeing you.’
Before he could say anything else, Husna was at the door wearing a striking blue sari. Her hair was piled high. Elphinstone stood up, surprised.
‘Is that invitation for dinner still open?’ she asked.
Elphinstone pulled out a chair opposite him. Husna sat down.
‘I thought you should have company tonight,’ she said.
‘You can read moods?’ he asked.
‘I have ridden with you almost every day for half a year. It would be odd not to, seeing someone first thing in the morning so often.’
This caused a genuine smile to crease his lips.
‘You have inspired me already,’ he said, ‘such a splendid oriental vision!’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
He poured her a strong Scotch. Husna nodded her approval.
Elphinstone studied her. So far, she had ‘managed’ their platonic relationship. He told Prince William that he had let her do it, saying that her defiant, independent manner was a sweet antidote to all the grovelling and sycophancy from others that accompanied his position as governor. Elphinstone demanded respect for the office but detested subservience. De Crepeney, he said often, was the most exotic woman he had ever met, yet he bemoaned his luck that, for reasons he claimed she never fully explained, she was unattainable to him. Elphinstone however, was aware that she would have nothing to do with him intimately while he was linked in some way to Victoria. He confided to Prince William, whom he regarded as his wisest counsel, that he wanted to be with her as much as possible regardless of a romantic attachment. Elphinstone valued her presence, her opinions and most of all her friendship.That was his mindset on the night she came to dinner.
Husna did not let on that she knew of Victoria’s marriage. Instead, she kept the conversation light and warm. After the meal, Husna stood, wandered around the table and beckoned to him. Elphinstone held her hand and led her up the winding staircase without a word being said between them.
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It rained in London on Victoria’s wedding day, but did not dampen the spirits of the crowds. Their numbers and demeanour, and the positive press reporting, demonstrated that Victoria was again in favour with the public after the lingering impact on her unpopularity of the Lady Flora affair. Only the Duke of Wellington received a bigger cheer than either the queen or Albert as the main players converged on St James’s Palace for the ceremony. After the event, they travelled by an old coach to Windsor Castle, for a short stay and not, as Victoria decreed, a honeymoon. She was very much on top at the beginning of their marriage. In a rare reversal of roles and even personalities,Victoria, still the fun-loving young party girl, was intent on getting back to her work and Albert, the industrious, ambitious youth, wanted more time to relax in the country.
Lady-in-waiting Lady Bedford told another of the ladies she thought the queen was ‘excessively in love’. Albert was ‘not being happy . . .He is not a bit [in love] with her.’ Lady Bedford may have noted more their characters than their feelings.Victoria was overjoyed to be in love again. Albert’s mind was already boxing with coming challenges.
In Madras, Elphinstone and Husna stirred as a cock crowed and was answered by another just before dawn. They nestled close. He kissed her cheek.
‘Are you riding this morning?’ she asked.
‘Not sure. I have a hangover. Even magnificent Scotch leaves you with something if you have too much.’