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.

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.