Victoria Public Hall and its missing plaque

Taking the powers-that-be on a walkabout at Victoria Public Hall on inaugural night, I could not help but reflect on how one of the most important markers in its history is missing: the plaque of its (first) inauguration. The foundation stone, miraculously enough, has survived intact and after a clean-up is now back where it belongs – at a subterranean level, with a protective transparent covering and a brass plaque marking the spot where it is. But of the inaugural plaque, there is not a sign.

There are plenty of others as though to compensate. The Maharajah of Vizianagaram has not one but two plaques acknowledging his generosity. Incidentally, it must be pointed out here that the land was not his, as is being claimed on many websites now. It was and is the property of the Corporation. He donated munificently to fund the construction. Likewise, there is a large marble plaque that records the major donors of the 19th century. And there is a tablet commemorating C.N. Annadurai’s restoration of the place in 1967, though precious little came of it. And matching it, on the other side of the main entrance is a plaque commemorating the completion of the latest restoration.

But what happened to the plaque that must have been placed here when VP Hall was inaugurated in 1888? To get an answer to that, I turned to A Guide to The City of Madras and Its Suburbs, published by Higginbothams in 1889, a year after VP Hall was completed. Though I was not rewarded with a reply, there was plenty of food for thought otherwise. Firstly, it would seem that R.F. Chisholm was part of the committee that was first formed to evaluate designs submitted for a town hall. The prize money was ₹1000 – a not-inconsiderable sum for those days. Eventually, it was Chisholm’s design that was accepted, and he very happily quit the committee for taking on the contract, and no doubt, pocketed the prize as well.

Asked to lay the foundation stone of the hall in 1883, the then Governor, M.E. Grant Duff, refused on the grounds that the money to be spent was probably better utilised in getting underground drains for the city. That piece of altruism may have been a disappointment, but the Maharajah of Vizianagaram gamely stepped in, and proved a munificent donor as well. Work was expected to be completed in time for Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee in 1887 but that was not to be. The building was ready only a year later and on January 25, 1888, the new Governor, Lord Connemara, declared the building open. And such an important event has gone unrecorded in the building.

It is my conjecture that the plaque may have never been put in place, for even in 1888, unsavoury rumours on Lord Connemara’s private life had surfaced. Of course, this is just plain speculation – for all we know, the plaque may have vanished with time. This, however, seems improbable, given that practically every other plaque in the building has survived intact, including the ones on the triangular Trevelyan Fountain. That structure was out in the open, and therefore, at the greatest risk and yet managed to survive. It probably merits an endurance prize.

Madras was not kind to Lord Connemara. For years, it was believed that he was solely responsible for the scandal surrounding the break-up of his marriage and the subsequent messy divorce in England. Rumours certainly circulated about his dalliance with Lady Eva Quinn, his niece and wife of one of the ADCs. But the truth, as I discovered a few years ago, was far more complicated. Lord and Lady (she being one of Dalhousie’s daughters), were clearly caught in a dysfunctional marriage. And while he may have strayed, it is almost certain that she did too, the object of her affections being the Surgeon Major in the Governor’s household, W.H. Briggs.

Matters came to a head in March 1889 when Lady Connemara sailed for England. Adultery was the only clause by which divorce could be granted, and in November that year, one of Lady Connemara’s maids was induced to confess that she and the Governor had had an understanding. Divorce proceedings were initiated at once, and he resigned as Governor and left for England. He, in turn, accused his wife of infidelity.

Surgeon Major W.H. Briggs was the star witness. He testified to the maid having told him of the adultery. Divorce was granted. Lord Connemara’s political career had ended. He married a rich widow, and no doubt, found comfort. Lady Connemara married Surgeon Major Briggs. The maid found employment on the basis of a certificate of good character given by Lady Connemara! And in Madras, no doubt, someone rescinded the order for a plaque.

(Sriram V. is a writer and historian.)