As Jyotsna is a civilian, he could not get leave long enough to go to Cooch Behar, so, to the great disappointment of the State people, the wedding had to be at Woodlands, our Calcutta house. Invitations for the wedding were sent to a great number of English officials and friends, and the ceremony took place on the 29th November, 1899, in an enormous tent in the grounds of Woodlands, and three of our missionaries married the young couple. Girlie wore a red and gold sari and was literally covered in jewels from head to foot. She was nearly sixteen, a lovely young girl with the sweetest disposition; the bridesmaids wore white and gold, and my husband and the boys looked splendid in their national costumes.
Jyotsna looked very nice in eau-de-nil Benares silk, and every one remarked how picturesque Girlie looked, and what a happy future seemed in store for her. Cooch Behar was illuminated in honour of the wedding; prisoners were released; life pensions were granted, and remissions of revenue. In the tent there were thousands of seats and hundreds of our English friends sat there, while on the raised platforms the bride and bridegroom, the three missionaries, the Maharajah, and the boys were seated. Girlie had numerous wedding presents; hundreds of beautiful saris, English and Indian silver sets for dinner, tea, and toilet, and lovely jewels from the Maharajah and friends. After the wedding was over about eight hundred guests had dinner together, even the drivers of the carriages each and all had dinner given to them in an earthenware pot tied up with muslin, and next day Girlie went to her father-in-law’s house. The parting was sad, but she was so young and pretty we all expected her to be happy in her new home. On the third evening was the flower ceremony and we sent presents, carried by about five hundred men. Girlie’s mother-in-law had been one of the most beautiful girls in India; she is very clever and is one of the younger daughters of the Maharshi Tagore and sister to Sir Rabindra Nath Tagore. Girlie has two sisters-in-law, but Jyotsna is the only son and adored by his parents. They welcomed Girlie with great rejoicings and all her new relations are very proud of her. We knew Jyotsna to be absolutely trustworthy, and after twenty-two years I can still say that I could not wish for a better son-in-law.
In 1900 Rajey was at Oxford, and the younger boys at Eton and Farnborough. All my boys, while in England, made numerous friends. Had it not been for the kindness of these friends, I should have been more unhappy and anxious about my boys being so far away from their home. Rajey was much admired, and had he not been so reserved in character he might have been quite spoiled.
Those who knew them at the Preparatory School and Eton have been their best friends. I can never express my gratitude to some of these friends. Long before I had the pleasure of knowing any of them, they used to ask my Rajey to go and spend the holidays with them. Mrs. Nicholas Wood is one of these friends, she has been kind to all my boys. Jit once said: “She is my adopted mother.”
Lady Amir Ali, whose husband was a judge out here, asked Rajey once to come from Eton to lunch with her in London. Rajey had leave to go, dressed himself nicely, and came up to town; but when he arrived in the street, he found he had forgotten the number. He walked up and down the street several times, stopped at several houses, but in vain, and had to return to Eton, disappointed and hungry.
After a short time at Oxford Rajey returned to India; he was growing up and the Maharajah was anxious to have his son with him, to help in administrative work and to take a prominent position in the State. It was a splendid idea. It would have brought father and son together in close comradeship with a common interest, and Rajey could have assumed a definite position in Cooch Behar. To my great disappointment, I found that the Viceroy wished Rajey to join the Cadet Corps. This Cadet Corps was started by Lord Curzon; no commissions, no prospects, and no position were attached to it; it could not even be called the Army. The Maharajahs’ sons lived in some ordinary buildings like a barrack. One day Rajey, who had been thus forced to join, was out walking when he passed the General and the Commanding Officer. Afterwards the C.O. was much annoyed with him because he had not made a proper salute to the General. Rajey answered: “But, sir, I could not make a military salute because the General was not in uniform.” The C.O. was, I believe, in a rage, but he was wrong and my son was right; evidently the C.O. did not know the Army regulations. Later, Jit and Victor followed Rajey into this corps.
Most unwise remarks were made by the Dewan and Superintendent about Rajey learning administrative work. The Dewan said bluntly that there was nothing for the Maharaj Kumar to learn. The Superintendent told me the Viceroy wished Rajey to devote himself to the Cadet Corps until he was twenty-six years of age, and then he might return to the State. I was amazed and could not understand why the heir should be made to stay away from his State and parents so long! But the State people seemed to know more about it. They thought: “The Maharaj Kumar is too clever to be with his father, who is surrounded with such officials as we.” One day a major remarked to me: “Well, Maharani, you’ve sent Rajey into the Cadet Corps. What will he learn? Nothing. You might as well send me.” This outspoken comment was the opinion of many.
I wonder why no Viceroy of India has ever given any of our young Princes a place on his staff. It would appeal tremendously to our people and prove that the much-discussed English training meets with its reward. Our Princes mix on terms of equality with Englishmen at the public schools and universities. Yet, in their own land, they are denied positions of honour!
Queen Victoria was loved by the Indians more than people in England have any idea of, and we often expressed the belief that our happiness was due to the reign of a Queen. She was known, and will ever be known, as the “Good Queen.” Indian women appreciated the fact that she was a good wife, a good mother, and a good woman all round. When the news of her illness came every one spoke of it with grief. “What shall we do if anything happens to Queen Victoria?” Although they never had the honour of seeing their Queen, all Indian women admired and respected our late Empress, and I well remember when the news came and the guns were fired, how all the ladies said: “We have lost our Mother.” How I wished I had seen her once more! My dear friend, Miss Minnie Cochrane, told me that Her Majesty had several times expressed a wish to see me again, and my great regret is that I did not have the honour and pleasure of showing my Victor to his godmother. When I came over in 1902 I went to see her mausoleum at Frognal, and I wrote a few lines in Bengali, tied them to a wreath, and presented it. I had brought the children with me on this visit, and first of all rented Moor Hall, a country house between Battle and Bexhill; but the place disagreed with us, and the slow train service completed our disenchantment. We came up to town, and in the winter I went to Switzerland with the girls. We stayed at Territet and Villeneuve. The latter I thought was pretty, and some of the old villages were rather like India with their brick buildings and stone steps; but no scenery in Europe ever appeals to me like that of my own country.
As the Maharajah was coming over shortly for King Edward’s Coronation, we returned to London viâ Paris, and I rented Ditton Park, a lovely place between Slough and Datchet. The King had given a house in Lancaster Gate to my husband as his guest and aide-de-camp. That summer is one of my happiest recollections. The children were all growing up. Two of the boys were at Eton, and the youngest at Farnborough. Rajey was the dearest companion, and most devoted son that ever gladdened a mother’s heart. What more had I to wish for?