“Take them, O Grave! and let them beFolded upon thy narrow shelves,As garments of the soul laid by,And precious only to ourselves.“Take them, O great Eternity!Our little life is but a gustThat bends the branches of thy treeAnd trails its blossoms in the dust.”
“Take them, O Grave! and let them beFolded upon thy narrow shelves,As garments of the soul laid by,And precious only to ourselves.“Take them, O great Eternity!Our little life is but a gustThat bends the branches of thy treeAnd trails its blossoms in the dust.”
“Take them, O Grave! and let them beFolded upon thy narrow shelves,As garments of the soul laid by,And precious only to ourselves.
“Take them, O Grave! and let them be
Folded upon thy narrow shelves,
As garments of the soul laid by,
And precious only to ourselves.
“Take them, O great Eternity!Our little life is but a gustThat bends the branches of thy treeAnd trails its blossoms in the dust.”
“Take them, O great Eternity!
Our little life is but a gust
That bends the branches of thy tree
And trails its blossoms in the dust.”
Photo: Lafayette.MAHARANI SUNITY DEVEE.
Photo: Lafayette.
MAHARANI SUNITY DEVEE.
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: “Youhavegrown, 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 amsure 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. Itis 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 Lansdowneon 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 mostregrettable. 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.
Photo: Johnston & Hoffmann.WOODLANDS.
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. Onone 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 strictpurdah 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 anEnglishman 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 havenever 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 Maharajahto 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 Indianboys 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.
My dear Jit has begun his work well and is doing his best to make the State prosperous. His love for his people is deep and he takes great interest in administration. He works hard and sometimes sits at his table and writes till midnight. He looks into every detail himself, and I often wonder how he can do so much: a boy who was never brought up as the heir. How I long for my dear husband to come and see his Jit working for the good of the State. He built a hospital in Lord Carmichael’s name, and has done many things to improve the health of the people, but unfortunately during his reign we have had the dreadful Western War from which the country has suffered much. Such things as rice and potatoes have been sent out of the State, and jute could not be exported. Everything has been very high in price, more than double. Jit has increased the salaries of the officers, and the pay of the servants, besides giving numberless subscriptions and donations, and helping in the War Loan; but he does things quietly and no one knows of them.He has five children, three girls and two boys; they are all lovely, especially the eldest girl. Jit is a clever man and has written some charming poems and books. It is hard for him that all the old officers now are either dead or retired and he has to work with new and untried men, but he takes it quite coolly.
One day he said to me: “Mother, if we believe that God is all-merciful, we shall never ask Him ‘Why?’ We may think father has gone too soon. He was young and strong and many lives depended on him, but God is merciful and God knows best. If God loves us he would not do anything that would hurt us. It is all for the best, and we must believe it.” Jit has been one of the best of sons to me, so loving, so kind and thoughtful, and he often treats me as if I were the same age as his little daughter.
Victor is a wonderful brother. I do not think in the wide world any one could find a more unselfish and affectionate brother than he is to Jit. Anything that Jit says is law to him. He would give his life for his brother; he would go to the ends of the earth to get anything that would make his brother happy. In his life Jit comes first. Victor has married the daughter of a distant cousin of mine, a pretty girl. They have two children, both boys. Victor’s wife is called Nirupoma; she is of the same faith as we are, a Brahmo. She is well educated and edits a magazine in Bengali. She is devoted to her husband and children.
Baby has married Alan Mander, the younger brother of Lionel. I did not wish her to marry so young nor to part with her so soon, especially as it was only six months after I had lost my Rajey, but now my life has come to that stage that I must not be heard, my love must pray silently for the happiness of my children. They are very precious and their happiness is my happiness. Baby wished to marry this boy; he is fine-looking, and has travelled a good deal, and as he was anxious to have the wedding soon I did not stand in the way, and they were married at Woodlands on the 25th February, 1914. During the War he was in the Army and now they are in England. Alan has been a very good son-in-law; I don’t think I could have had a better, even in fancy.
Among the Maharajahs of India I know but few. The Maharajahs of Bikanir and Gwalior call me “Mother;” the former was at school at Mayo College with Rajey. The Maharajah of Kapurthala was like a brother to my husband; the Maharajah of Idar I know very well. In India there are very few Maharanis, perhaps none except myself, who come out, so it is difficult to get to know them, and without a special invitation one cannot visit their States. Some of the Maharajahs could do much for their country. Surely there is enough money in India to revive its ancient history and search out its ruined palaces and temples; but the Maharajahs seldom meet together to discuss these things, and that is perhaps why our Western visitors do not know much of our ancient India.
During the last few years I have travelled a little, and would like to tell my readers something about my country. Once I went on a Hindu pilgrimage to a place called Hardwar. In my book “Nine Ideal Indian Women,” there is a story about Sati; near Hardwar is Sati’s birthplace, an old palace now in ruins, and this I and my third sister went to see. Among the ruins are said to be dozens of cobras, but they do not hurt any one. We sat on the steps that led down to the river and had a little service. There was a feeling about the whole place, even after these thousands of years, as if it had been the home of a beautiful soul and was near the spiritual world. We gazed upon the beautiful scene: the wonderful old ruined palace with its flights of steps leading down to the deep blue river, and in the distance the pure white snows of the Himalayas. We noticed a strange thing as we sat there; in the middle of the river was a tiny island, and on this a tortoise was playing with a snake; one would never have thought that a snake and a tortoise could be together, yet here they were like two friends.
In that same book of mine is the story of Harischandra and the burning ghat; that ghat still remains in Benares. We sisters went there to see it one day after sunset in a boat kindly lent to us by the Maharajah of Benares. Down the stream floated hundreds of little lights; it looked as if the Ganges had rows of necklaces round her throat. It was an impressive sight; on the banksand down in the water were thousands of men and women with clasped hands and down-bent heads, saying their evening prayers near the ghat where the Maharajah Harischandra worked disguised as a chandal.
Nearly two years ago I came from Simla to meet my sister, who was waiting for me to go with her on a pilgrimage to Sarag-duar (the Door of Heaven). We planned to go by train to a station near the place, and as there was no passenger train about that time a railway carriage had to be attached to a goods train. When we arrived at the station some of our party went in tongas and for my sister and me a friend sent a carriage, the best that could be had, but very ordinary in our eyes. We started off happily. It was a very rough rocky road, but our hearts were full of the Sarag-duar and we were longing for the end of the journey. My sister’s two little children who were with us behaved wonderfully, and did not complain of either hunger or fatigue. After several hours we arrived at the river-side. It was early in the morning, the sky was bright blue, at our feet the Ganges flowed between high banks, and tall trees guarded the Door of Heaven. Two boats were waiting and we crossed the river. As we went over I felt as if I must say to the river: “May you take me on my last crossing even as you take me to the Door of Heaven to-day.” We arrived at the Sarag-duar; it was still beautifully cool and fresh, and as my sister had brought fruit and sweets wesat there and refreshed ourselves. While we were eating, a message arrived from one of the holy men that he would like to see us, and after a few minutes he came. What a good and handsome face he had! He was dressed in an almond-coloured (sacred) robe and brought fruit and flowers for us. His good words dropped on our hearts like cool water on an aching brow. When he saw my sister’s children he said he must send some milk for them, and soon after he had left us warm milk came. In this little land of peace there is one house in which food is cooked once a day for the hermits and the pilgrims, of whom there are thousands in the summer months and hundreds in the cold weather. In the fields are splendid cows. Gifts of money are made by some generous friends and this pays for the food. It is a wonderful place, so peaceful, so beautiful; whoever visits it, whatever his religion, must feel that it is indeed near heaven. Far away are blue hills, and nearer great plains over which herds of wild elephant, tigers, and leopards roam, but do no harm. Some of the hermits live among the roots of the big trees, and even in the winter months when the cold is very severe they bathe daily in the river. No women are allowed in that holy place, nor any families; we were allowed to halt there a few hours as a special favour because we were my father’s daughters. There is no smoke of cooking, no shouting, no cry of children; all is peace; even the river is calm and quiet.
From there we went to the place where Harischandra’s brother Lachman spent his last days, and had to cross the river by a bridge of planks which shakes all the time one walks. As we went we saw jutting out into the stream the piece of rock on which Dhruba, when a little boy, knelt one day to pray to his God and was much disturbed by the loud noise of the waters. So Dhruba addressed the river and said: “Mother Ganges, how can my prayers reach the feet of God if you disturb me so; how can my mind be quiet while such loud sounds go on?” And it is a curious thing that just where Dhruba sat the river is perfectly calm, while a few yards off on the other side of the rock the water boils and rushes. We bathed in the river; it was icy cold but it gave us new strength and new hope.
I should so much like my Western sisters to see some of these peaceful holy spots. Unfortunately there is no history of India in which all the old stories are told; they would make the country so much more interesting to the traveller. India is not the country some Western writers make it out to be. It is an ancient land and a spiritual. Modern ideas, to my thinking, often make young people hard and perhaps selfish. If we do not love each other can we do good to any one? In the old history of India unselfish love was given to one and all, and the crown of India was love. We are lucky indeed to be the children of such a country, but are we worthy of that love, have we forgotten what our ancestors did?Learn all the good you can from other countries, but remain an Indian still is my poor advice. Hurting others cannot make us Indians happy. I am so proud of being an Indian. Let the world know how beautiful and good India’s daughters were, and let us try and follow in their footsteps; in their time Love and Peace reigned. Love will bring us all together and make India once more happy and rich. A number of Western authors make great mischief by writing things that are not true. One lady, Maud Diver, I know has written many untrue things about us, and I am afraid people who do not know us will believe the worst. It is a great mistake to write such things; one by one we shall all go, but our letters and books will remain for the next generation to read.
I often feel that if Her Majesty would include a Maharani among her ladies, she would get to know the Indians much better; she is so fond of anything Indian and takes so much interest in India that it would help her, especially at such a time as this. Her Majesty might take a lady from each Presidency in turn, changing her every four months; and if His Majesty also would choose an Indian of noble birth from each Presidency, changing him in the same way every four months, I am sure it would keep Their Majesties informed of the state of feeling throughout the whole of India, and they would gain first-hand and correct information. Much mischief is often done because things have to go through somany channels. I might mention here that sometimes the representatives of His Majesty are not very sympathetic nor tactful with the Indians. Indians do not get asked to parties as they used to be, and it is only natural they should expect to be invited by the high officials in India who represent their Emperor.
The last time I visited England was in order to be with Baby for the first arrival in her family. I got there on the 13th June, 1920, and went to Baby’s house, where I was very comfortable. Her little girl was born on the 8th July at 7, Lyall Street, a house which Baby had rented. The dear newborn delighted our hearts. We thanked God for her safe arrival. It is our custom to have a children’s feast on the eighth day after the birth. On the following week we had all the children from the garage next door and some others to tea. Each of them and every member of the household staff received a little souvenir of our happiness.
When Baby was strong enough to be moved she returned to her house at Kingston and I visited her there. Suddhira and Alan gave up their room to me and occupied the drawing-room, which was not at all comfortable for them, still we were all very happy at being together.
In September I moved up to town to Grosvenor Street, where I had rented a house from a rich lady. Our stay there would have been a happier one had it not been for the continual annoyance of receiving unpleasant messages from the owner. Oh, whata worry the house problem in England is nowadays!
Since I lost my dear husband I had lived in a very retired way. Now in Grosvenor Street I began to see a few old friends, and this happy intercourse recalled to me the golden days of my life. I had the great pleasure of meeting Lord and Lady Lansdowne, General Birdwood, Colonel and Mrs. Burn, Lord and Lady Suffield, General and Lady Blood, the latter as cheery as ever. Lady Hewitt, Mrs. Roberts, Mrs. Beverley and others. Lady Headfort was as kind as ever. I had the great honour of going to see Their Majesties and stayed to tea with them. I went to see Her Majesty Queen Alexandra. How sad it made me to see her so changed! This was the first time Her Majesty spoke sadly. H.R.H. Princess Beatrice was the same gracious and kind Princess. I had the honour of having tea with her. Miss Minnie Cochrane, a lady-in-waiting to the Princess, is a very dear friend of mine and it made me so happy to meet her again. I also went to see H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught. How it saddened me when I met him all alone in his drawing-room! In the days of the past, H.R.H. the Duchess and her children filled the house with their merriment. My heart went out to the Duke in his loneliness. I compared myself with this Royal Prince. He had lost his life’s companion and his first-born, and my husband and eldest son are both gone. H.R.H. was most kind and sympathetic.
Just as I was beginning to revive old friendships and go about a little there came the crushing sad news of my poor darling Hitty’s last illness. How shall I bear his loss! I am no longer young and sorrows have worn away my strength. I am nearing the end of life’s journey, oh, why have I suffered this terrible blow? Why was my Hitty called away so early? His life was hardly begun and it is ended! The half-opened flower of his manhood is for ever closed. Before I left for England I had put aside jewels and household silver-ware for him, hoping he would marry soon. I was prepared to go, I thought that perhaps my ashes would be brought back from England, but he is gone and I still linger here. How cruel it seemed to me; what great sorrow I suffered! Only a mother who has lost her boy can realise the anguish. If we could but have a glimpse of our happy departed dear ones in the realms of bliss what consolation it would be to our bereaved aching hearts!
Jit was sweet in those dark days. How he tried to comfort me. He said: “Mother, be brave, be brave. Trust in God, mother—God does everything for the best. Hitty is happier there than he was here. He is with father and Dada.” Jit said many kind and comforting words; how I love him for his gentleness! Indira, too, was very kind and often came and spoke consolingly. Suddhira and Alan were a help and comfort to me. I do not know what I should have done at that time had they not come andstayed with me. Suddhira often cooked for me, and she looked after and nursed me as if she were the mother and I her child. Her loving devotion touched me deeply. What a sweet true daughter she proved herself in those days of bitter bereavement! Her little baby girl was a real blessing, and seemed a bright messenger from above bringing hope from our heavenly home.
Lafayette.THE MAHARANI AND HER GRANDDAUGHTER, PAMELA GHITA, 1921.
Lafayette.
THE MAHARANI AND HER GRANDDAUGHTER, PAMELA GHITA, 1921.
In February I left England and arrived in Bombay on the 26th of the same month. Jit and Indira were there on their way to Calcutta. I arrived at Howrah on the 1st March, the anniversary of the day when our mother was taken from us. Victor met me, and with him were my brother and other relations. How I missed my Hitty. I went straight to Lily Cottage, where we had a short “In memoriam” service. Monica was there, and after the service I went to my sister Sucharu’s, where Bino and others were waiting. One and all wept over my sad loss. They were all devoted to dear Hitty, and Victor in particular feels the parting.
Dear Hitty is resting now near his father and brother in the palace garden, where all is quiet and still, and the scent of the flowers seems to speak of the sweetness of heaven. His voice is hushed and no one will ever again look upon his dear face, but his soul lives on in the Land Immortal where he has been called to greater work. I am longing to be with my loved ones who have gone before, to be where we shall never part again.
This sad loss has brought a great change into my life. I feel the unknown world is very near to me and I must try and finish what I think I have to do quickly. God gifted me with everything that was precious, and one thing I wish to leave behind me and that is Love. I feel my strength has gone and often wonder why I am left. I had a house with four walls like rock and a strong roof that sheltered me, and now the roof is gone and two of the walls are down. The happy past is very far away, and I seem to be living in a different world. Life goes on, days and months have passed laden with sorrow and grief, but I am still walking on the edge of this life. My only wish now is to serve my family and my people and my Church, the Church of the New Dispensation.
It is my happiness to know that Jit and Victor are working hand in hand for the welfare of Cooch Behar. Jit’s great ambition is to make his State a model one, and he is always eager to help forward its progress.
Some of the Governors of Bengal have been most kind to my school at Darjeeling, where sixty or seventy children of all castes are taught kindergarten, and I am glad to say it does very well indeed. My technical school for poor Hindu ladies in Calcutta too is a success. The Victoria College was established by my dear father for the better education of women.
We often used to speak of a terrible tragedywhich happened in our own family through a relation not knowing how to read.
This lady’s son was ill with typhoid, but he got better rapidly and one day the doctor told the mother the patient might eat a little solid food. After the doctor had left, two bottles of medicine arrived. The happy mother at once insisted that the boy should take a dose to hasten his recovery. But, alas! one of the bottles contained liniment for external use only, and this happened to be the bottle picked up by her. The boy died in great agony. The poor mother became almost insane with grief when she found out that she was the unwitting cause of her son’s end. This is one of the many stories of what has happened in Hindu homes where the ladies are kept from the knowledge of reading and writing. It is no wonder therefore that we have tried hard for education for our country-women. But we found it uphill work for many years.
My father founded other institutions, but they do not all exist now because of lack of finances, but we do not despair, where there is a will there is a way and Indian women are not so ignorant as Western people think. In the zenanas you will find fine characters, educated up-to-date women, good nurses, clever accountants, sweet singers, most loving mothers, and devoted wives, and as far as looks go, it is hard to beat a real Indian beauty. I have an ambition, if I live, to have an Asram forgentlefolk where they can live in peace and receive instruction, and it is my great hope that before many years have passed Indian women will stand in their right place and once again India will cry aloud: “I am proud of my daughters.”