VICEROYS I HAVE KNOWN
Lord Lytton knew me as a little girl in India, but we did not meet again
until 1887 when I was visiting England. I went with my husband to the
Foreign Office party one evening. It was a grand affair and I had a
very nice dress. We were all standing in a line waiting for the Royal
procession to pass when Lord Lytton saw me. He came and stood by me and
putting his arm round my waist said: “You _have_ grown, and look so
pretty, but so grown-up.” I felt very uncomfortable and kept on saying:
“Oh, Lord Lytton, but I am so old. Do you know I am the mother of three
children? Do please remember that I am an old woman, over twenty.” In his
kind voice he said: “It was only the other day I saw you at your father’s
school, a little, little girl.”
Lord and Lady Ripon were very kind to us. In his time the Ilbert Bill
was passed, which made a great sensation in India and the English spoke
against the Indians and Lord Ripon. One English lady said to me: “Why was
such a man as Lord Ripon sent out to India? he goes against his Queen.”
I am sure the lady did not know what she was saying, as Lord Ripon was
a friend to India and thus served Her Majesty the late Queen well. When
my darling little Rajey had typhoid fever in Simla in 1882 both Lord
and Lady Ripon constantly made kind inquiries and offered their doctor
Anderson, a clever and charming man.
Lord Dufferin is supposed to have been the cleverest Viceroy in India; I
was so ignorant about politics I cannot say much about his administrative
work, but I do know that he was a very kind personal friend of mine. Lady
Dufferin was the most clever and capable Vicereine that has ever been out
in India. She once came to one of my “sari” dinners, when we all wore
saris, sat on the floor, and ate with our fingers. One of the A.D.C.s
remarked that Her Excellency looked like a goddess.
Lady Dufferin wrote a book on India in which she said a great deal about
my dear mother, whom she greatly admired. I think she was amazed to see
how cheerfully mother gave up all the comforts of life after she lost my
father. Lady Dufferin showed the greatest interest in all my father’s
institutions, and we were very proud when Lord Dufferin presented a
medal to the Victoria College. Lady Dufferin founded the Delhi Hospital,
where Indian women are trained to be doctors and midwives. When Lady
Dufferin asked me about it and if it would be a success, I said, “Yes,”
but did not quite understand about it or realise the difficulties. It is
difficult to make my Western sisters understand about caste prejudice in
my country. When Lady Dufferin first began this training much discussion
went on all over India. To begin with, women of high caste could not do
work of the kind as they thought it lowered their position; secondly,
zenana ladies, however poor, did not wish to be trained or study with
men, therefore in the beginning only very common women took up the
medical profession, but now many advanced women have taken it up and have
studied hard and taken degrees, thus serving their country, for which we
owe much gratitude to Lady Dufferin. Lady Wenlock told me not long ago
that the idea was originally Lady Ripon’s, but she was unable to carry it
out before she left India.
Lord and Lady Lansdowne were the greatest Viceroy friends we ever had.
We all, the whole family, loved and admired them and their children. The
Maharajah was treated as a personal friend of theirs, which made the
other Maharajahs very jealous. When I was very ill once, Lady Lansdowne
used to come and see me, and they were most kind to Rajey. Once H.H. the
Begum of Bhopal gave a strict purdah party and I was invited to meet
Lady Lansdowne. I do not quite remember, but I think the Resident wanted
to know who should sit in the next highest seat to Lady Lansdowne, and
he was informed that I was to sit next to the Viceroy’s wife, which the
Resident did not like at all. When I heard of this I thought I would
not go, but kind Lady Lansdowne on being informed of it sent I do not
know what message to the Begum’s official. Anyway the whole tone of the
letters changed, I was begged to go, and on my arrival at the party I
found that H.H. the Begum had placed Lady Lansdowne in a chair on her
right hand and I was to sit in a chair on her left hand; these were the
only seats, all the other guests came and shook hands with the Begum
while we were seated.
Lady Lansdowne was kindness itself to my children. She never made any
distinction between English and Indians at her parties, and her tactful
consideration made her very popular. I think her charming mind was
reflected in her beautiful face.
I was at my happiest in Lord Lansdowne’s reign; everything seemed to be
so bright in my life at that time, and I often think now of that happy
past. Lord Lansdowne once said: “My house is not half large enough to
hold all the people you and the Maharajah entertain in camp.” I did
appreciate those kind words.
Lord Elgin was a kind Viceroy; I don’t know whether he did much as a
statesman, but he was a very kind easy-going man. Lady Elgin gave some
very cheery children’s parties. At one of these my Jit kept on having
so much ice cream that I am sure all the A.D.C.s and servants must have
longed for us to leave the table. I went to Calcutta once for a few
hours, the Viceroy heard of it and asked me if I would dine with them
quietly; it was no party, only a family gathering. This was a great
honour. I did not think I could have a maid with me, so I sent for a
hair-dresser. He was told not to be long, but perhaps he felt artistic
that evening, for he went on making curls and waves and using hundreds of
hairpins. I was most impatient and kept reminding him of the time, but it
had no effect. The consequence was that I was about half an hour late, a
thing I shall never forget. When I arrived, I found the two A.D.C.s in
despair, sitting on the steps watching the gate. One of them was the late
Captain Adams. I did not know how to make my excuses and had to tell the
unpleasant truth, that it was the fault of the hair-dresser, but all they
did was to pay nice compliments. I was so nervous when I went up into
the drawing-room that I felt like running away, but when Lord and Lady
Elgin came in and I made my apologies, Lord Elgin said: “Please don’t
be sorry; I am grateful to you for being a little late. You know it is
the English mail day, and you gave me a little extra time to write a few
more letters, for which I have to thank you.” This made me forget all my
troubles and only remember what a proud and happy woman I was.
There was much splendour in the time of the Curzons, but I don’t believe
that Lord Curzon was ever really in sympathy with us. He is a very clever
man; but, may I be forgiven for my frankness, I found him slightly
interfering in private matters. He was too unapproachable, which was
most regrettable. I consider that he missed many golden opportunities.
Lady Curzon was handsome and charming, but to my great disappointment I
had neither the pleasure nor the honour of knowing her well.
Lord Curzon did a lot of good to the country; and tried to revive the
old industries, the saris, cashmeres, etc. Also he put up tablets on
great men’s birth places and homes, which was much appreciated; but he
interfered with the future of the Indian Princes’ young sons. Whether the
fathers were willing or not he did not wait to find out, but forced them
to send their boys into the Cadet Corps, and by so doing many boys lost
their opportunities of learning administrative work. Of course, we had to
submit because no one wishes to be in the Viceroy’s bad books.
[Illustration: _Photo: Johnston & Hoffmann._
WOODLANDS.]
Lord and Lady Minto we admired and liked very much. Lord Minto was
so kind a friend that although he was Viceroy he helped a zemindar
at the cost of much trouble to himself. Lady Minto was the first to
ask the purdah ladies to Government House. She gave parties for them
regularly every year while she was in Calcutta and the ladies enjoyed
them enormously. I remember a Hindu lady remarking of Lady Minto: “I do
like her smile so.” My sister and the Maharani of Burdwan and I joined
together and gave three parties to Lady Minto at Woodlands, and I got
up some tableaux which both the English and Indian ladies enjoyed. On
one occasion I dressed Lady Minto in a Bengali bridal dress, scarlet and
gold, and she looked lovely. Lady Minto told me afterwards that when she
returned to Government House she sent a message to the military secretary
that a Maharani was waiting in the hall, and when he came and found
Lady Minto in the bridal dress for a moment he thought it really was a
Maharani.
I remember a Bengali gentleman of high position telling us once: “Lord
Minto is a thorough gentleman; when I and my friend went to call on him
he was so nice and made us feel quite at home. What struck us most was
that at the close of the visit, when we were going away, Lord Minto,
instead of calling an orderly or an A.D.C., walked up to the door and
opened it himself. We felt uncomfortable, but it was a gentlemanly
action; by opening the door he lost nothing, and we gained so much.”
I feel it my duty to allude to something that happened in Lord
Minto’s reign. A rumour was circulated that a most loyal British
subject was disloyal to the Government. I was horrified when I heard
the lie; it reached the highest circles. Even Sir O’Moore Creagh,
then Commander-in-Chief, may have credited it. Perhaps it was some
fellow-countryman who started this unpardonable lie; but how could the
Government believe such an impossible thing? I only hope that whoever did
this great wrong will confess his wickedness before he leaves this world.
Lord Hardinge did a lot of good to many people, but he was never very
kindly disposed to the Cooch Behar Raj family. Soon after I lost my
husband we came back to India, and as I had received nothing but kindness
from the Royal Family and from so many Viceroys, I expected that Lord
Hardinge as Viceroy would be kind to me. But on the contrary he did not
seem to take any trouble to be kind to my son. When our present King
was at the Delhi Durbar Lord Hardinge paid many visits to the other
Maharajahs, but never thought of leaving his card on the Maharajah of
Cooch Behar, which was not only an insult to the Maharajah but to the
whole of Bengal. Lord Hardinge also interfered with our private affairs,
at which I was surprised because we liked him and thought him clever and
never opposed him.
Here I might mention that at this Delhi Durbar a certain Political
Officer visited the Maharajah’s camp in ordinary lounge clothes, a thing
which even H.M. the King would not think of doing. Such Englishmen should
have attention drawn to them and their manners corrected.
Lord Carmichael, when Governor of Bengal, was a most kind friend to my
Rajey and to me. Words are too poor to express my gratitude to him.
Some years ago a branch of the London National Indian Association was
opened in Calcutta, where Western and Eastern ladies met. For a few years
the Association did wonderful work. Many strict purdah ladies came to
it, and many of us gave parties. Lady Jenkins gave a fancy-dress ball
and all the purdah ladies were in fancy costume; it was a brilliant
sight. Lady Holmwood took great trouble for the Association, and we all
hoped soon to have a permanent building for it. Then one of the members
spoke against others and the whole thing nearly fell through. But Lady
Carmichael with her kind heart and tact managed to gather the ladies
together again and make them work hand in hand for our soldiers during
the war. Very few, I fear, take interest in the Association now.
Lord Ronaldshay, the present Governor, we like very much; he is very
popular in Bengal and a brilliant speaker. He is clever, and has studied
India well, and I do not think there are many subjects on which he
cannot talk; it is a treat to get a chance of speaking to him on serious
subjects. I did not know Lady Ronaldshay until she came out to Jit’s
shooting camp in Cooch Behar. She is a sweet and good mother and just
like an ordinary lady when surrounded by her children.
Of all the wives of the Lieutenant-Governors in Bengal Lady (Charles)
Elliott was the cleverest. Sir William Duke was a kind personal friend to
us all.
I have not known many Americans, but among the few I have met some
were very nice; a Mrs. Perrier was charming. I know one American lady,
when she was out in India, spoke very angrily to an Englishman whom
she found treating an Indian gentleman as if he were a porter or a
servant. Yet another American woman once refused to sit in the stalls of
a London theatre because an Indian lady was seated close to her. Some
Canadians are like the latter, and I hope they will never come to India,
to disgrace their country and sex. Such women could never belong to or
understand universal sisterhood.
I never had the pleasure of knowing any Australians until a few months
ago when I returned from England by P. and O. _Mantua_. There were some
charming Australians on board. The ladies were smart and clever, with
delightful manners. It really was a great pleasure to me to meet them.
One lady in particular I found most pleasant.
I had the pleasure of knowing Lord Kitchener well. One could hardly
believe that such a fine big soldier could be such a charming host; his
parties were always successful. When the Prince of Wales (now our King)
was out in Calcutta we were talking about Lord Kitchener, and H.R.H. said
to me that he had given a perfect dinner-party. I answered that perhaps
it would have been more perfect if he had had a Lady Kitchener there.
But the Prince said: “There I do not agree with you. Lord Kitchener is a
perfect host even without a Lady Kitchener.”
I hope I shall be forgiven if my readers do not find much about politics
in this book, but I have never been interested in politics, and I think
it is better for women not to take part in political work. It is another
thing though for the mothers and wives of rulers in India to complain of
the Government if they find it interfering with them. There are mothers
and wives of rulers in Bengal and the Punjab who know very little or
no English and cannot approach the Government direct but have to be
represented by the Anglo-Indian Commissioners or Political Agents. And I
regret to say that the Government officials now are often of a different
type from those in olden days, and this causes trouble in the country.
Some of these Englishmen do not know how to talk or to write to Indian
ladies, neither do they know how to address gentlemen. Most of these
civilians are sent out simply because they have passed the Civil Service
Examination; how can any polite manners be expected of them? Yet whoever
visits England once wishes to go there again, and the chief reason of
this is, that the English are much nicer to Indians in England than they
are in India. I always say that as long as the Government respect and
consider Indian women the throne is safe; history itself shows that when
women are ill-treated no rule is secure.
Once I wished to see Lord Curzon, and had he seen me some very great
unpleasantness might have been avoided. I fully expected to get a letter
written by his own hand, instead of that Mr. ⸺, the secretary, replied
to this effect: “H.E. wishes the Maharajah to write him if there is
anything wanted.” If Lord Curzon only heard and knew how Mr. H⸺, our
Superintendent, treated matters in connection with my private life and
things I hold sacred I am sure he would not have hesitated to see me.
Some of these officials seem to enjoy calling us untruthful. Well, Mr.
H⸺ should feel happy to know that his official “confidential box,” which
he left in the care of the late Calica Das, containing papers against
the Maharajah’s family, has been found and is now public property. Mr.
L. was once our Superintendent; he gave the idea to Government that
the Cooch Behar Raj family was most extravagant, and unfortunately the
members of the family never had the chance to inform the Government what
the Superintendents themselves spent. I asked Mr. L. to have a little
bamboo shed built at Woodlands, which would have cost perhaps about £2;
the Maharajah was away in England at the time. Mr. L. said he must get
the sanction of His Highness; the cablegram would probably have cost him
£2; and if I remember rightly in the same year Mr. L. expended £8000 on a
house in Darjeeling which, though not sanctioned, H.H. had to pay; such
can be the power and folly of a Superintendent.
When Victor was doing well at Eton and becoming quite a grand cricketer
to the great satisfaction of the Maharajah, Lord Curzon was appointed
Viceroy, and we were all anxious to know what to do and how to please
him. It was known he did not like Indian boys being educated in England,
and as a Maharajah himself cannot always approach a Viceroy about family
affairs, and I happened to know one of the high officials well, I asked
him for advice. By his advice I had dear Victor brought back to India
and thus all his future career was spoilt as he was sent to the Cadet
Corps. This Corps ruined the future of many young lives; it was a waste
of money and time. After it had failed the Maharajah sent Vic to Cuba for
agricultural training, to learn something about tobacco, which grows all
over Cooch Behar. When Vic returned home after a few years the Maharajah
had machines brought out from America and a nice piece of land prepared
for the tobacco, but because of Mr. H⸺, who was then Superintendent, the
whole thing fell through.
Our religion of the New Dispensation teaches loyalty to the Throne. This
loyal feeling is a sacred duty to me, and in the whole of India no family
is more loyal to His Gracious Majesty than the Cooch Behar Raj family.