The Autobiography of an Indian Princess

by Maharani of Cooch Behar Sunity Devee

One day we went to a delightful afternoon party at Hatfield House. Hundreds of guests travelled down by a special train. When we arrived at the station we found a number of carriages ready to convey us to the house. As I stood there with my husband waiting for a carriage the Maharajah of Cutch, who with his brother was already seated, asked us to get into his carriage. I hesitated a moment, and when I got in, as he is of higher rank than we are, he asked me to sit beside him. I wanted to be next my husband, but the Maharajah of Cutch insisted, and so my husband and the brother sat opposite. In the next day’s newspapers we were described as the Maharajah and Maharani of Cutch, accompanied by the Maharajah of Cooch Behar. I was much annoyed, and asked my husband to contradict the report, but he only regarded it as a joke, and said teasingly, “Why, Cutch is much better-looking than I am.” After tea the Princess of Wales, who had been talking to me in the gardens, turned to Princess Victoria and said: “Now, Victoria, take the Maharani and show her the Maze. I’m sure she hasn’t seen one yet.”

I certainly had never ventured inside a maze, but I followed Princess Victoria and Princess Hélène of Orleans unhesitatingly in and out of the winding paths of the labyrinth until we were really lost. We ran screaming deeper and deeper into the maze, and, as “time and tide wait for no man,” we realised that we should probably not be able to return to London until very late. We were all wearing dainty muslin and lace gowns; but, regardless of them, we simply broke through the hedges in our search for an exit, and finally emerged with our dresses in ribbons; mine streamed behind me, and the Princesses were in no better plight.

Years afterwards, at King Edward’s Coronation, we went to Hatfield again. When we were received by our host, Lord Salisbury, he looked curiously at me. “In 1887,” he said, “a Maharani of Cooch Behar came to Hatfield House and lost herself in our maze. You can’t possibly be the lady, for you are much too young.” I assured him that I was none other, and woman-like I was delighted to know that Time had dealt so lightly with me.

The most appreciated compliment that I think was ever paid to me was uttered as we were returning to town from this garden-party. As we passed through the crowd to our carriage, I heard a woman remark: “Isn’t she pretty?”

“Yes,” answered her friend, “but it is not only a pretty face, it is also a good face.”

The late Lady Salisbury was always very kind to me, and on the night of an India Office party we dined there first, and our hostess took me on with her in her cee-spring carriage. I was talking to her as I got in and forgot the sort of carriage it was, so that I felt very shy indeed as I found myself half lying down. It was largely owing to her kindness that I enjoyed the India Office party enormously. We went to an evening party at the Duchess of Teck’s, and there I was introduced to a blind Prince, the Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, the husband of Her late Majesty’s first cousin. When I was introduced to him by his wife he paid me a great compliment. “You are looking beautiful, Princess,” he said. I asked why he said this. “Because,” he answered, “your voice is so lovely.”

I was not to leave England without experiencing some of the famous country-house hospitality. We paid a delightful visit to Blair Atholl. The Duke and Duchess were very kind, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself; still I did not find the Scotch scenery half so grand as the mountains of my native land. One day when the Duke was taking Lady Strathmore and me for a drive we passed some white heather, and she exclaimed: “Oh, do stop, there’s white heather, the Maharani must have some.” The dear old Duke got down from the carriage and dutifully gathered the coveted flowers, while Lady Strathmore explained their mystic properties to me. “Now you will have luck,” she said as she gave me a spray. It was the first time I had heard of the superstition, though there are many pretty legends about flowers in India.

One evening we went with the Duchess to a ball, and she decided to go home early. I was tired and asked if I might go with her, and so the Duchess, her sister Lady Strathmore, and I returned to the castle. I had told my maid to leave my door unlocked, and to sleep in the dressing-room, but when we tried to open my door none of us could manage it. One of the ladies therefore went round and woke up the maid, who simply turned the handle and the door was open. We looked at each other with surprise, and as I felt rather nervous the kind ladies had a good search in case there was a burglar. I well remember Lady Strathmore saying: “There are things in this world which our human eyes cannot see.” I liked Lady Strathmore, she was such a handsome woman and very clever. I am very sorry I never accepted any of her kind invitations, but I had heard about the ghosts of Glamis Castle. The Maharajah was disappointed, as he was anxious to go and see the old castle, and to shoot, and I deprived him of both these pleasures. At the Blair gathering a very unusual compliment was paid to my husband’s dancing; Lady Salterne said: “It is a dream to dance with the Maharajah of Cooch Behar.”

At Blair Atholl I heard the bagpipes for the first time, but I am afraid I did not wax enthusiastic over their melody. I look back with pleasure to the time I spent in Scotland. I was treated like a child, and petted and spoilt by every one, and I quite enjoyed the experience.

I went to stay with the Morgans at Cambridge; he was the Master of Jesus College. No one could have received a grander impression of a college than I did. Mrs. Morgan was most kind-hearted, and, I am sure, although she was quite young, she must have helped the students when they were in difficulties. While we were talking our hostess said: “Baby is coming.” I asked her who “Baby” was, and she said, “My sister.” Soon after “Baby” arrived—the mother of children. It was sweet to hear her elder sister call her “Baby.” In the evening a party was given at which we met all the great wise men. None were good-looking nor young, but all were clever, and what interesting talks we had. My hostess afterwards told me some of them exclaimed, “What sparkling eyes!” when they first saw me. The next day was Sunday, and we went to church three times. A boy with a most glorious voice sang by himself; it filled the church and thrilled our hearts.