Chapter VIII: My First Visit to England

The year 1887 was expected to be a memorable one for India, as our late beloved Queen-Empress would celebrate her Jubilee. India was anxious to show her loyalty to the Sovereign whose high ideals and humanity have endeared her to all her people. Many of our princes therefore decided to render their homage in person. My husband made his plans for this eventful year long beforehand, but he cleverly kept all of us in the dark as to his intention that I should accompany him to England. It must be remembered that the conditions of life among Indian ladies were very different in 1887 from what they are to-day. The Maharani of Baroda, I believe, had once gone to Switzerland, but for the wife of a ruler to visit England with her husband caused quite a sensation. I think I am right in saying that I was the first Maharani to do such a thing, and I may as well confess that I dreaded the experience. I knew absolutely nothing about the journey. I was going to be a stranger in a strange land, and I was sensitive enough to dread being stared at, for I well knew that this must be my fate in London. We sailed on the P. and O. boat _Ganges_ or _Ballarat_, I forget which. I remember the captain of the boat took great pains to ensure our comfort on board. Our suite consisted of my two brothers Nirmul and Profulla, two A.D.C.’s, J. Raikut and S. Sing, our English private secretary, the late Mr. Bignell and his family, and our English nurse, besides our two selves and our three little children. We also had some Indian servants. I cannot describe my feelings when I realised that I had actually left India, had passed another milestone on life’s road, but I little dreamed that the far-off country for which I was bound was destined to be a land of sorrow for me in the distant future. The glory of the sea enchanted me. When the boat was out on the ocean and no land could be seen, all Nature seemed to speak of the infinite God, and I felt so small. In the dark evenings when the water gleamed with phosphorescence, it looked as if there were thousands of stars under the sea responding to the stars above. It really was grand; a grandeur that no one could describe unless he had actually experienced it. Before we embarked I had tasted meat for the first time in my life, and I disliked the flavour so much that for the first few days of the voyage I ate nothing but a few vegetables. I often had fits of depression and sometimes left the dinner table to relieve my feelings with a good cry.

The Maharajah parted from us at Port Said, as it was decided that it would be easier and less fatiguing for me with my little ones to go by sea instead of taking the shorter route across Europe. I was delighted when I first saw Malta and Gibraltar. Mr. Bignell met us at Tilbury Docks. Just as we were seated in the train, I was handed a message from Queen Victoria that she wished to see me at Court in my national dress. It was May, but very cold for the time of year, and my first sight of London on a Sunday did not raise my spirits. I saw half-deserted streets swept with a bitter wind which had already chapped my face, and I was heartily glad when at last we reached the Grosvenor Hotel. There all was brightness and animation. My husband was so pleased to see me and the children and to show me the grand suite of rooms which had been reserved for us. The housekeeper at the Grosvenor had thought of everything that would make us comfortable, and my memory of her is of a pleasant woman with plenty of common sense. One thing I did not like. Our luxurious suite of rooms had no bathroom. I was told I was to have a bath in my room, but this I would not do. I was shown to a big bath, but was horrified when I was told that I must pass all those corridors each time I wanted a bath. I refused point-blank, and they finally prepared a small room as a bathroom for me.

Kind invitations poured in, and I was happy to see many old friends. I shall never forget the question Sir Ashley Eden put to me: “What do you think of our London fog?” for although it was May, I had experienced a yellow fog. I answered: “Not much, Sir Ashley; I do not think I shall ever care for the London fog.” We dined at Sir Ashley’s, and there I first met the present Lord Crewe. We had a large drawing-room at the hotel which I could never make cosy or comfortable; on rainy days especially, it felt damp and gloomy. When I went out for drives I used to see little children with their toy boats in Hyde Park, and I soon got a nice little sailing yacht for my Rajey, and both mother and son enjoyed floating this vessel on the Serpentine. Rajey’s little face beamed with delight when he saw his boat going along. The late Lady Rosebery was most kind to my little ones; Rajey and Girlie spent some happy afternoons at her house. The present Lady Crewe was a small girl then, and her brother, Lord Dalmeny, made a great friend of dear Rajey and always remained the same.

Soon after we arrived in London I was alarmed to find my baby Jit develop bronchitis. Both my husband and I were most anxious about the child, and their own doctors were offered by two Royal ladies, one of whom was H.R.H. the Princess of Wales, now Queen Alexandra. When Jit got better the nursery was often honoured by two Royal visitors, H.R.H. the late Duchess of Teck and our present Queen, then Princess May. These two charming ladies graciously came and played with my children. It was lovely to see little Jit in Princess May’s arms. I have seldom met so sweet a personality as the Duchess of Teck. She simply radiated kindness and good nature. One glance at her happy, handsome face inspired confidence. I was greatly honoured when she said she would chaperone me during the Jubilee festivities. The present Queen was then a tall graceful girl, with a wild-rose freshness and fairness, and gifted with the same simple unaffected charm of manner as her mother, which had already endeared her to me.

It had been intimated to me that Queen Victoria wished to see me privately before the Court, and it was arranged that I should go to Buckingham Palace for an audience. The question of what I was to wear had to be settled. The Maharajah, who always displayed the greatest interest in my toilets, chose and ordered my gown for this great occasion. I was extremely nervous, and as I saw my reflection in the mirror in the pale grey dress I felt more terrified than ever. My maid, seeing me look so pale and shaken, brought me a glass of port. I never touch wine, except when it is absolutely necessary. My hand trembled so that I spilt half of the wine over my gown. Instantly a chorus of “How lucky” arose. But I gazed rather ruefully at the stains.

“Well, Sunity, it is time for us to start,” said my husband, and I followed him to the carriage. Lord Cross, who was then Secretary of State for India, received us, and his wife whispered a few reassuring words to me before the officials escorted us down the corridors to the small room where Her Majesty was.

I cannot describe my feelings when I found myself in the presence of the Queen. To us Indians she was a more or less legendary figure endowed with wonderful attributes, an ideal ruler, and an ideal woman, linked to our hearts across “the black water” by silken chains of love and loyalty. I looked at Her Majesty anxiously, and my first impression instantly dispelled my nervousness: a short, stout lady dressed in mourning who came forward and kissed me twice. I made a deep curtsy, and walked a step backward, and then my husband came forward and bent low over the Queen’s hand. I experienced a feeling, as did every one with whom Her late Majesty came in contact, that she possessed great personal magnetism, and she certainly was the embodiment of dignity. Her conversation was simple and kindly, and every word revealed her queen, woman and mother. I was delighted to find that I had not been disappointed in my ideal, and felt eager to go back to India that I might tell my country-women about our wonderful Empress. The audience occupied only a few minutes, but nothing could have exceeded Her Majesty’s graciousness, and I came away proud and glad, and laughed at myself for my previous terror at being received by one so gracious. The Maharajah was very pleased at our reception, and told me how proud he was of me.

The next day we attended the Drawing-room. I wore a white and gold brocade gown and a _crêpe de Chine_ sari. I waited with the other ladies, and as it was a cold afternoon I was very glad to find a little cosy corner and sit down. I looked around me, and was admiring the pretty dresses and faces when I suddenly saw what I thought was a gentleman wearing a diamond tiara. I gazed at the face and then discovered it belonged to a lady who had a thick moustache. I went into the throne-room, and as I was told by Lady Cross that I need not kiss Her Majesty when I made my curtsy, as I had already been received privately, when Her Majesty wanted to kiss me I avoided her! After finishing my curtsies I went on to the next and the next, and I distinctly heard the Queen say to the Princess of Wales: “Why would not the Maharani kiss me?” This made me so nervous that I thought I should drop on the floor. After I had finished making all my curtsies I went and stood near kind Lady Salisbury and watched the other ladies pass. One of the duchesses, an elderly woman in a very low dress trimmed with old lace and wearing magnificent jewels, to my mind looked extremely miserable. I can still see her trembling as she curtsied; whether it was the cold or her aged body was tired I cannot say. I was greatly interested in all I saw; but shocked at the low-cut gowns worn by the ladies present. The cold was most trying to complexions and shoulders, the prevailing tints of which were either brick-red or a chilly reddish-blue. Now that the Courts are held in the evenings women’s beauty is seen to greater advantage, but I shall never forget that May afternoon and the inartistic exposure of necks and arms.

We received an invitation for the State ball. My husband chose a gown of blue and silver brocade for me for this important occasion. Just before we left the hotel for the palace the Maharajah said: “Sunity, if the Prince of Wales asks you to dance with him, you _must_; it would be a very great honour.” “I can’t,” I faltered, “I simply can’t; you know I do not dance.” “Never mind, you cannot refuse your future king.” “Well,” I said, “I don’t think I will go; let me send a letter of apology.” “Impossible! We are bound to attend; it is a command.” I said no more, but prayed and hoped that I might be overlooked by the Prince. Not so, however. Soon after we entered the ballroom a message was sent by H.R.H. asking me to dance with him. I returned the answer that, although I greatly appreciated the honour, I must refuse as I never danced. Then came another message: It was only the Lancers, and H.R.H. would show me the steps.

Again I refused; then, to my great surprise, the late King George of Greece came up to where I was sitting. “Do come and dance, Maharani,” he said, “I assure you there is nothing in it.”

“Please forgive me, your Majesty,” I stammered, “but I cannot dance.” The late King of Denmark, then Crown Prince, also graciously asked me to dance. By this time I was too nervous for words, and I heard a sweet voice say: “Oh, look! hasn’t the Maharani tiny little feet?” I glanced in an agony of shyness at the dais from whence the tones proceeded, quite close to where I was sitting, and saw that the speaker was none other than the Princess of Wales! I did not know what to do, and felt for the moment as if I were all feet. My skirt was rather short, and I could not tuck my shoes out of sight. I was very glad and relieved when suppertime came. I went in with the Royal Family to supper. Every one was most gracious, and the Prince of Wales teased me about my not accepting him as a partner.

“What do you think of the ball?” asked one of the Princesses. “It is a grand sight, Ma’am; I think the jewels are wonderful.” I was introduced to several foreign royalties, and one girl I loved directly I saw her. She was the Grand Duchess Sergius of Russia, with whom I afterwards became very friendly.

On the morning of the Jubilee I was early astir. I wore a pale orange-coloured gown with a sari to match. We left the hotel at a quarter-past nine. As we drove to the Abbey I was struck with the perfect behaviour of the crowd.

It was a hot, dusty drive, and I was glad of the shade of my parasol. Suddenly a shout arose. “Put down that sunshade, please, and let’s have a look at you.”

“Don’t,” whispered the Maharajah, “you’ll get sunstroke.” I hesitated. “_Come_ now, put it down.” I closed my parasol, and as I did so was heartily cheered. “That’s right,” roared the good-humoured crowd, “thank you very much.”

On entering the Abbey we were escorted to our seats.

It was an impressive ceremony, and the Queen looked inspired when she came back from the altar. After the service was over, as Her Majesty walked down the aisle, her eyes met mine, and she smiled. I was the only Maharani present, and I like to remember this signal honour.

A striking figure in that vast assembly was the late Emperor Frederick of Germany, who was a very handsome man. His appearance was so noble it was a delight to watch his looks and dignity. There was a grand but rather small evening party at Buckingham Palace on the same day as the Jubilee ceremony at Westminster. Her Majesty, looking very happy, stood in the middle of the room, with all the foreign Princes and Princesses in their full-dress costumes, and covered with splendid jewels and decorations, around her. After making my curtsies to Her Majesty and the Royal Princesses, I was introduced to several foreign Royalties, one of whom was the late Grand Duke of Hesse. I shall never forget the charming way in which the Duchess of Connaught presented him to me; she just said: “My brother-in-law, the Grand Duke.” I don’t think the world has ever witnessed such a wonderful Royal gathering as that, with such magnificent jewels, and full-dress uniforms of brilliant colours, and the array of medals and orders that covered many breasts. One and all looked happy, and that in itself made the party a “great success.” Our congratulations to Her Majesty on her Jubilee were sincere, loyal, and warm.

Life passed very swiftly and pleasantly for me during the Jubilee celebrations, and I was thoroughly spoiled, much to the delight of my husband. I have many recollections of that memorable year, and can picture to myself many of my kind and charming hostesses. I remember once in the supper-room at Buckingham Palace my husband introduced the Ex-Kaiser, then Prince William, to me, and the young prince bent down and kissed my hand. I blushed and my throat grew dry; my hand had never been kissed before by a man. After the Prince left us I tried to scold my husband in Bengali, but he laughed, and said: “Sunity, it is a great honour that your hand should be kissed by the future German Emperor; you ought to feel proud.” I admired Prince William and the way in which the foreign Royalties showed their respect for ladies.

We went to Windsor Castle one day to present our gifts to Her Majesty. My husband chose a little diamond pendant with an uncut ruby in the middle, and told me to give it to Her Majesty. I said to my husband: “I shall be too nervous,” but he urged me: “Just a few words, Sunity; it will please Her Majesty.” Little did my husband know what those few words cost me. We went by special train to Windsor, and when we arrived at the Castle we were received by the equerries and high officials. It was the day for Indians to pay their homage to their Empress. Captain Muir was in command of the bodyguard on duty. We entered the throne-room where the Queen was, and I presented our little present with a few words to Her Majesty, who graciously accepted it and thanked me. I made a deep curtsy and walked backwards, feeling nervous at the thought of mistakes in my little speech and curtsy, but people who were present in the room said afterwards the Maharani of Cooch Behar’s words were clear and her curtsy was most graceful.

One evening we dined with Mr. and Miss Kinnaird. The table was decorated with masses of scarlet roses specially sent over from Paris. The perfume of the roses took my memory back to the old Belghuria garden. I enjoyed this dinner very much. We were going on to an evening party at the Guildhall, and the Maharajah asked one of the gentlemen in the Royal suite who was at the dinner whether full dress or evening dress was expected. “Ordinary evening dress, your Highness,” was the reply. However, to our dismay, when we reached the Guildhall we found all the men were in full dress. My husband felt very uncomfortable at being the only man in evening dress, and would not go near the Royal dais; a fact which did not escape the notice of the Prince of Wales. His Royal Highness sent for my husband. “What’s the matter, Maharajah?” he inquired, and the reason was explained. The Prince was anxious to know the name of the gentleman who had made the mistake, but my husband would not give him away. Thereupon the Prince turned to me and said with a smile: “Oh, Maharani, you are a very careless wife. You haven’t dressed your husband properly.” Every one smiled, and the Prince’s kindly tact put the Maharajah completely at his ease. When we went into the supper-room, Her Majesty the late Empress Frederick came and stood beside me and asked many questions about Indian home-life and customs. Her Majesty said: “How do you address your husband? Do you call him by his name?” I said: “No, Ma’am, we generally address our husbands in the third person.” “How would you call your husband if you wanted him now?” I said: “Ogo.” “What does that mean?” asked the Empress. “Please, dear.” She laughed, and they all, the Empress included, began to call each other “Ogo.” Then Her Majesty looked at my hair and asked: “Is that all your own hair?” “Yes, Ma’am,” I said. “What a lovely lot of hair you have!”

I admired everybody and everything with whole-hearted admiration, but I think my utmost meed of devotion was paid to Queen Alexandra (then Princess of Wales), who was as kind as she was beautiful, and so womanly that my heart went out to her.

I first discovered at a dinner given by a bachelor friend of the Maharajah’s that punctuality was not considered a virtue in London. The invitation was for 7.45, but the last guest did not arrive until ten minutes to nine, and I was told that “no one is ever punctual in London.” I was so tired that I fainted with the arrival of the soup, but revived enough to eat dinner, and we afterwards went on to an entertainment where I saw Letty Lind dance. She was then a pretty girl and danced exquisitely. To our great pleasure and pride the Prince of Wales came and sat in our box. My husband said to me in Bengali: “Do ask His Royal Highness if he will honour us with his company at supper,” and when I did ask, how graciously he accepted and thanked us! We knew he had a party of his own, and I could not help thinking: “It must be because H.R.H. is fond of my husband that he did not refuse,” and I appreciated the honour all the more. As the Prince left our dining-room, one of the gentlemen of our party overheard him remark to his equerry: “I _do_ like Cooch Behar, he is such a straightforward man.” I remember how pleased I was when these words were repeated to me. That was my husband all through his life—straightforward. He scorned the subterfuges which those of his rank often adopt to please a censorious world. He was outspoken, and one who was never ashamed of his friends, whatever their position might be. Although he was the proudest of men, his simplicity was such that he believed his _joie de vivre_ would pass unnoticed, and that he might sometimes be allowed to live as a man and not as a Maharajah.

Queen Victoria displayed the most kindly interest in our doings. One day I was invited to take the children to Windsor Castle. I dressed them in their national costume, which pleased Her Majesty exceedingly. After a few minutes’ conversation the Queen said to me: “Do you remember this pendant, Maharani?”

I looked and saw that she was wearing the jewel which we had had the honour of presenting to Her Majesty. I felt very touched at the thought of her wearing our gift, and told Her Majesty so.

When we were saying good-bye the Queen graciously said: “You must let the children have some strawberries and fruit which I have had prepared in another room.” The children were not shy, and I never saw strawberries disappear so fast. Rajey soon confined his attention to some magnificent hothouse grapes. “Come away,” I said, for I began to dread the result of a prolonged riot in fruit. Both obeyed; but Rajey lifted up two enormous bunches of grapes and carried them off, much to the delight of Her Majesty.

I remember, too, how the late Emperor Frederick admired our little Jit, and taking the boy’s hand in his, said many kind words to him. I also had the great pleasure of seeing the Empress of Russia, then Princess Alex of Hesse, a young girl of sixteen, sitting on the carpet in the corridor playing with some small children and dogs. Her thick plait was hanging down her back, and when she lifted her large dark eyes, I said to myself: “What a lovely face and what sad eyes!” It was indeed good to live in those happy days. What a pleasant picture I have in my memory of that afternoon of sunshine, friendly faces, and the Queen and Princess Beatrice waving us farewell!

I was once invited by the late Duchess of Connaught to lunch with H.R.H. at Windsor Castle. Mrs. Bignell accompanied me. It was indeed a great honour, as the Duchess did not ask any one but me. I was touched to find a King’s daughter, a Queen’s daughter-in-law, living like a very ordinary mother in her own home. I would have given much for my country-women to have seen the Duchess that day, with her little children.

We went to a grand garden-party at Buckingham Palace, at which thousands of men and women were assembled; it was a striking sight. I don’t think any one ever got a better chance of seeing so many pretty faces together. We were all waiting for the Queen’s arrival when some people came and asked us to make a passage for Her Majesty to pass. My husband stood right at the back, but I was always anxious to see everything, and stood in the front line. To my surprise Her Majesty walked straight up to me and kissed me, and I believe I was the only woman there whom the Queen kissed. I was greatly amused the following day when the newspapers made some sarcastic remarks about the Indian Princess receiving more attention than any of the others.

Another day we were commanded to dine with Her Majesty at Windsor Castle and spend the night there. When the train stopped at Windsor station we found a red carpet on the platform and the Royal carriage in waiting. Officers came to receive us; I felt quite grand, and how the crowd cheered us, and many a kind remark I heard from them. We drove up to the castle, and when we arrived we went straight to our rooms. I never saw anything so splendid and yet so comfortable. The sitting-room was facing the park, which was lovely in the sunshine, and the bedroom was all gilt from ceiling to floor—it was like fairyland. The only thing that puzzled me was that there should be no bathroom to such a lavishly furnished suite. I asked my husband in despair: “Can’t I have a bath after such a journey?” The Maharajah in his calm, quiet way said: “Sunity, there must be a bath in this room,” and he began to look for a door. Suddenly he found a button-like knob, and on pressing it a door sprang open, and there was a large room and a bath; I screamed with joy at the sight. I was struck with another thing; the face towels were of the finest linen. We had tea, and the Maharajah told me that if I received a present from Her Majesty I must thank her nicely. I kept on asking him what the present was, and why I should have it. My husband did not answer, and so I left off worrying him. I had not quite finished dressing when the Maharajah came and said an officer had come to show us where we were to wait for Her Majesty. This made me more nervous than ever, and I could not put on my jewels properly, so my husband helped me to carry some necklets, bracelets, a fan, and gloves. As we came into the ante-room I was relieved to find that we were the first to arrive and I had time to put on the jewels and gloves. Her Royal Highness Princess Beatrice entered first, and soon alter Her Majesty walked in with a jewel-case in her hand. She gave it to me and kissed me and I curtsied several times, thanking Her Majesty for the gift. It was the decoration C.I., “Crown of India.” Her Majesty said a few words with it which I appreciated even more than the present. Her Majesty asked the Princess to pin it on for me, which H.R.H. did. I was no longer nervous, as both the Princess and Her Majesty were most gracious and kind and made me feel quite happy. Prince Henry of Battenberg was a dark, handsome man and seemed very nice. After a few minutes’ talk we walked into the dining-room. This was not a big room, but Her Majesty’s own private room. There were portraits of the Queen’s three daughters-in-law; that of the Princess of Wales as a bride was exquisite. Her Majesty sat in the middle, my husband on her right, Princess Beatrice on her left, and then me. When champagne went round and I refused it, Her Majesty noticed and asked my husband the reason. The Maharajah said I never took champagne or wine. This did not annoy the good Queen, but seemed to please her. Her Majesty and Princess Beatrice both very kindly asked after my dear mother and grandmother, and how well Her Majesty remembered my revered father; she had a photograph of him. While we were at dinner we heard another guest had arrived, but he would not have any English food. After dinner was over this guest came in to see Her Majesty. He was an Indian Maharajah. We talked for some time after dinner. Princess Beatrice asked why more of our Indian ladies did not come to England, as H.M. the Queen loved seeing them. We stayed the night, but I do not think I slept much; lying in the gold bed I almost fancied myself a fairy princess. This suite of rooms was the Princess of Wales’s, so it was a great honour for us to have them.

There was no marked ceremony at these Royal parties, and everything was delightfully informal. There stand out in my memory a luncheon at Marlborough House, when the Princess of Wales gave me a lovely Russian cypher brooch, and a _tête-à-tête_ tea with her on another occasion when I took my babies with me. Jit was tremendously attracted by our beautiful hostess, who took his hand, saying as she did so: “What a pretty little boy! no wonder his mother was so anxious when he was ill.”

The kindness shown me by Queen Alexandra has never varied since those early days. Fate has dealt heavily with us both. We have each lost our idolised first-born. We have each lost the best of husbands. We have equally sorrowed. I think some subtle sympathy draws us together; each time I have visited her of late I have been struck afresh by her resigned expression, and I know that the Queen-Mother feels as I do, that “There’s not a joy the world can give like those it takes away.”