Jan 2. 1st Visitor's Camp. Delhi. Dearest Mother. Now I'm going to tell you some of the gossip of the Durbar. It's very curious collecting opinions about Lord Curzon; I'm gradually coming to the conclusion that he is something of a great man, but there is no doubt that he is extremely unpopular. Chiefly among the soldier people. Even Arthur, who is by no means ante Indian, says "Since Lord C's time began the natives have learnt to push you off the pavement." An unfortunate instance occurred quite lately and much capital has been made out of it. A punkah coolie belonging to the 9th Lancers was found dead - of ill treatment they say - and Lord C. incontinently stopped the leave of all the officers. Now there was not a shadow of evidence (so they say,) against them. The Duke, as soon as he arrived in Bombay, telegraphed that he wished his Durbar bodyguard to consist of 9th Lancers and they rode in, in great state - with much cheering from the audience, in front of the Duke's carriage yesterday. This was a little disagreeable for the Viceroy. It was curious yesterday that while the Duke was cheered to the echo, the Viceroy was greeted almost with silence. And this is still worse: it had been arranged that after the Proclamation cheering in the Horseshoe, at a given signal, all the troops outside were to cheer. They made up their minds they would not. At the last moment (Arther told us this) excited aides rode along the lines and said the men must cheer, but when the time came they did not, and practically the officers and the native troops did all the shouting, which was rather feeble in consequence. On the other hand Major Dunlop Smith (he runs the Punjab Chiefs' camp where the Russells are, and we lunched there today) told me that some of the discontent in the army was most unjust. For instance the Viceroy has been trying to introduce into every mess, especially the privates', electric punkahs which are infinitely better than those worked by coolies. This has raised a storm - because the quartermasters make a handsome profit out of the coolies' pay, which passes through their hands. Major D.S. swears by him. He says, "You get sharp words and bad manners from him, but you find that the thing that needs doing is done, without months of official letters and yards of red tape." Then again all the Frontier people are fire and flame for him: Mr Cox out in Muscat [Masqat], Mr Hughes Buller in Kashmir [Jammu and Kashmir], for instance. They feel his strong hand behind them and know that they may go forward without {the} fear of having their actions disowned by the government. Whether the Durbar is wise or not is an open question. I hear all the Rajas are grumbling over the tremendous expense to which they have been put and Mr Biddulph, Patiala's financial adviser, told me that when you were trying all you knew to nurse a bankrupt state back into solvency, you did rather grudge the thousands and thousands that you had to spend at Delhi. And no doubt some of them don't think they receive the respect they deserve. The Nizam of Hyderabad, a personal-21-gun-salute man (he has hired the big club, Ludlow Castle, for his lodging at a cost of £3,000!) arrived on Xmas Eve at night, too late for his guard of honour to salute (because it was after dusk) and stayed in his carriage all Xmas Day waiting till it came and blocking the whole traffic of the line! They are going to make him pay a fine bill for that escapade, the Railway Co.; I expect he'll regret it. He has a place railed off for him at the Polo Club Stand - to the great indignation of young men. They declare they are going to rush it some crowded day. He also insisted on another privilege. No one was allowed to enter the Horse Shoe by the big entrance except the Duke and the Viceroy; but the Nizam drove in by it before they came, all round the arena to his seat! Great consternation! These incidents, which are the despair of the officials, contribute much to the entertainment of the onlookers. Unfortunately they are too rare; it is all wonderfully well managed and goes without a hitch. This morning we lunched with the Russells at the Punjab Chiefs - miles away, across the Great Trunk Road, but delightful when you get there. Our host, Major Dunlop Smith, is a charmer. I sat by him at lunch and he told me all about the workings of a native state. Patiala is a minor; his father spent fabulous sums and left the country crippled with debt. We are now bringing it round. Major D.S. has unearthed, out of old biscuit boxes and tins, priceless treasures, old Jaipur enamel, MSS illuminated, forgotten jewels, gorgeous armour, which he is arranging and cataloguing. He showed us the Patiala jewels: the Empress Eugénie's famous diamonds are among them and priceless pearls. We saw too the trappings of the state elephants, heavy with gold and silver plating and strung with emeralds, and the Raja's elephants with one baby elephant, too nice, and the coat Patiala wore yesterday, pale blue velvet embroidered with pearls - one begins to treat precious stones here as if they were ordinary pebbles! Poor Lady Arthur has got bronchitis and is in bed. We took Oliver up and he lunched there. It was all most amusing. Then we went to the Polo, where we saw Ulwar [Alwar], who is supposed to be about the 1st player in the world, play the Imperial Cadets, and it was the most lovely thing you can possibly imagine. We also conversed with numbers of people. Then we went to tea with Lady Barnes (she has just been knighted) the sister of the Vanbrughs and a most charming woman with whom I have sworn friendship. She is coming to see us in London some day and I'm going to stay with her in Burmah [Burma (Myanmar)] - some day. We also made the acquaintance of her husband, Sir Hugh, who is very nearly as charming as she is. Then we went on to congratulate the Lawrences and met Sir Walter L. outside his tent, and he sent us home (we had sent away our carriage) in one of the Viceroy's carriages, so we were the howling[?] swells. In the evening I went to the fireworks, H. [Hugo] didn't want to come. So I took Mr Schuster and his 6ft high valet as chaperons and very beautiful it was. All the great buildings, the mosque on which we sat, and the Fort, were illuminated with lines of tiny oil lamps, just the pattern of old Roman lamps, and when the bouquets of rockets went up we could see stretching Bellow us the big square which they cleared in the Mutiny Time, packed with countless thousands of people. We got home at 1 AM.
One learns a grat deal travelling! I have just discovered that the place we speak of as India doesn't exist at all. Jaipur, Mysore, Hyderabad: yes. But India - there is no country of that name outside the geography books. "The worst of it is" said Patiala's financial advisor indignantly, speaking of the expenses to which his Raja was put at Delhi "the worst of it is that every anna is spent outside the country!" And they have spent on it! the Maharaja has his tents arranged round an enchanting garden, with beds of green cress instead of grass, gravelled with little paths full of flowers: and all called out of the parched sand for the sake of this fortnight. The Russells told me that the first night they were disturbed by the sound of continuous mewing, so much so that Lady A. got up and looked out of her tent and called "Puss, puss!" What do you think would have come if what she had called had really come? The elephants! isn't it deliciously ridiculous! They make a funny sort of mewing sound which from a distance sounds just like cats. There is one of Lord Curzon's deeds about which everyone is unanimous - in praise, and that is the Imperial Cadets. The sons of Rajputs, young men and boys who were idling away their time (and much worse than idling) in zenanas, of such high birth that they could put their hand to no occupation, he has organized into a separate corps of kings' sons and put them under some excellent English officers, and they say that, of all the Rajputs, these boys are the best and the most promising. It's really a stroke of genius. They are tremendously popular. They ride next the Viceroy in all the shows and whenever their pale blue and gold comes into sight, all the audience cheer. Pertab Singh heads them of [sic] a black horse, a Kathiawar, which is a picture of all an oriental wants a horse to be. It arches its neck like a drawn out bow, it holds out its long tail and goes a sort of dancing, high stepping pace which would almost be mincing if its movements were not so perfect. It's just like a horse in a medieval oriental illumination. He does look a fine gentleman, old Pertab Singh. Some one introduced me the other day to Scindia, the Maharaja of Gwalior. I had last seen him roped in jewels and sitting in a gold howdah on his state elephant in the procession. At the polo he appeared in riding breeches and a c.... coat and a yellow muslin turban - a merry little soul. We watched the Polo together for some time and talked. You have to rub your eyes sometimes to be quite sure you are not dreaming - the contrasts are so extreme. I also know the Maharani of Kutch Behar - we are going up to lunch with the K.B.s tomorrow. She is an interesting woman, not purdah and of no caste, but a daughter of the leader of those Brahma Somaj people who started the new theistic school of which I told you. The Kutch people thought themselves very lucky to get her, for the Maharaja, though he is a very important person, is extremely low caste. Mrs Moncrieff told me that she had a high caste bearer, once, who wouldn't hand the Maharaja the tennis ball when he was playing in her garden, lest he, the bearer, should be defiled. Rub your eyes again! Major Dunlop Smith told me a nice tale. Old Patiala wanted to make the king a present on his coronation, so Major D.S. went into the jewel house and there, in a forgotten tin box he found a ruby an inch and a half long on which were stamped the seals of Jehangir, Shah Jehan and Aurungzib, the 3 great Mogul Emperors. He said "This is the thing to take with you for the Emperor of India" and old Patiala acquiesced. Then the Maharaja fell deadly sick and as the time drew near he saw he wd never be able to go to England and give his present so he sent for Major D.S. and said "I am near death, can I send my present?" and Major D.S. said "Write a letter and I will send it. Then the Maharaja wrote to the king and said that he cd not come to his coronation, being summoned on a different journey, but looking through his treasure house he had found a jewel which belonged not to him, but to the Emperor of India, and before he died he wished to restore it to its true owner. The King accepted it and was delighted with it and wrote to Major D.S. telling him to find out its history and, after much searching the archives, he discovered that when the 3 Sikh kings sacked Delhi and overturned the Mogul empire, this ruby had been a part of Patiala's loot. Isn't that a good tale?

Sat. 3rd. [3 January 1903] Mr Landon came to breakfast and he and I rode round the town walls by the edge of the Jumna [Yamuna] and saw no European and looked at the wonderful Mogul buildings of the fort on the city wall, and learnt a lesson - which is, that when you see a row of white vultures sitting on the trees like so many big hens, you should not ride up to them with eager interest, but, on the contrary, turn in another direction. They are not there without good cause. Hugo had Malone to lunch and I lunched with Mrs Tyler, Mrs Terry's[?] sister. The Tylers are in Kitchener's camp, but it was not very amusing because Gen. Tyler, wasn't there. I'll tell you who was there: a brother and sister in law of Captain Battine! and he's here too, did I tell you? The brother is really quite nice and I liked the sister in law. Mr Strachey, the son of Sir Richard, dropped in to tea - he comes quite often and is very nice. We dined early and went to the Investiture in the Mogul palace. It was a fine show, but I felt about it that for magnificence you can't outdo an official party in London, not with all the turbans and jewels in the world. Still it was rather thrilling to see Lord C. [Curzon] sitting before Aurungzib's throne, and the procession of Star of India people. Rajas and Englishmen and Frontier Chiefs, all walking together. We came away after the first lot were invested - which we ought not to have done, I Bellieve, but most people did. We heard after that Lord C. had been very angry, but fortunately he didn't know that it was us, poor man!
On Sunday 4th [4 January 1903] I drove up in the morning to see Lady Arthur who is better, but still in bed, and borrowed Flora's saddle for a long expedition next day and arranged that Gilbert should come with us. Directly after lunch I went to a Mahommadan Conference to which I had been invited by Mr Morison, the head of the Aligarh College. I stepped onto the platform as bold as brass (in my best clothes!) and sat down by Mr Morison who is an enchanting person. He translated for me a rather dull speech in Urdu which was going on. Presently in came the Agha Khan who is head of all the Khoja Mohammadans - his community stretches from Tashkend [Tashkent] to Zanzibar. He is a most curious anomaly. A polished and very well educated, somewhat dark complexioned Englishman, he is at the head of the most bigoted and ignorant seat of Islam. His grandfather used to give private letters of introduction to the Angel Gabriel, to secure his friends a good place in paradise, and that is what he is expected to do now, and can't do. I know him a little; Lord Carlisle introduced me to him. Then appeared Sir Michael Hicks Beach and Lord Pembroke and the meeting became extremely animated. An old man made a capital speech which I understood most of, for he used so much Persian, and Sir Michael made a really excellent little speech. I was the only woman there. After this was over, I shook hands warmly with the Agha Khan, who addressed me in Persian, and bowed myself out. I rather wish I had waited to hear the A. Khan's address, but Hugo was waiting for me at the Massed Bands. There I met Spencer Lyttelton and had a talk with him. We dined with the Martindales, he is head of all Rajputana [Rajasthan] and they are both very nice. The Dunlop Smiths were there, and that Whittaker couple whom I met on the boat between Naples [Napoli] and Smyrna [Izmir] last year, and the Oliviers and all the Rajputana people. I sat by Col. Olivier which was most pleasant and after dinner I talked to an interesting old man, Colonel Loch who has been for 20 years head of the Rajput College at Ajmere [Ajmer]. He doesn't like the Cadet Corps at all; he says that they take away the young men who ought to be diligently learning how to govern from their Residents and make them parade in front of the Viceroy; he says that the gradual breaking down of caste is a great misfortune - you destroy the code of honour that they know and follow and give them nothing with which to replace it; and he told me this story to illustrate how little the English officers of the Cadet Corps are in touch with their boys; Bikanir [Bikaner] has volunteered 200 men of his camel corps for the Somali war; a young Bikanir Rajput who is in the Cadet C. came to Col. Watson and begged him with tears in his eyes to let him go with them - he was a sort of hereditary colonel of the Camel Corps - and Col. W. refused saying that he was wanted for the Durbar shows! The upshot of it all is that you can't form any opinion about anything in this country - there is always so much more than meets the eye. I also made the acquaintance of Major Pinkey who is resident of Oudeypur [Udaipur]. We are going there with Mr Chirol on Friday. The great interest of the Durbar has been the way in which it has brought together people from all parts of the world from Muscat [Masqat] to Burmar [Burma (Myanmar)], so that one has been able to hear so many different points of view. And they are all willing to talk, these people; enchantingly willing, even to an outsider.

Monday 4 [i.e. 5] [5 January 1903] We had a delightful day. H. [Hugo] and Gilbert Russell and I started off a little before 8 and rode down 13 miles to the Kutub, the famous tower of victory built by one of the first Muhammadan invaders of India. There is a beautiful ruined mosque round it built out of the remains of Hindu temples - you can see still the figures of gods and dancing votaries, half effaced on the columns. There is a very good Dak Bungalow there where were had an excellent breakfast about 10. All round are the ruins of towns, mosques and temples and tombs and city walls - there were 9 Delhis at different epochs; each conqueror built a new one, and from the top of the Kutab tower we could see them scattered over the great plain. From here we rode on 5 miles to a place called Tughlakhabad, the capital of one who was a Turki slave, raised to power by a Hindu king. He killed his master and established a ferocious dynasty which lasted 100 years and was put to an end by Tamberlain who sacked Tuglakhabad and murdered every man woman and child in the city. The town is an enormous fort, 5 miles square, with a citadel enclosed within a double wall with great bastions of stone, the masonry sloping inwards and giving an extraordinary idea of strength. There are underground passages with long stables for horses and for the lodging of fighting men, an astonishing plan. We sat on the topmost wall of the citadel and eat some sandwiches and oranges we had brought with us and then we climbed down and went to see Tughlakh's tomb, which is a kind of little separate fortress set on a rock in the plain. The tomb itself is a great stone pavilion with a domed roof, and the door jambs slope inwards like an Egyptian gate, a grimmer, fiercer bit of architecture you could scarcely imagine, nor one that gave you a more impressive sense of savage brutal force. It is, in its way, one of the most interesting things I have seen in India. Then we rode home 13 miles, the last part along the Grand Trunk Road, and saw no European, but the whole road was an Appian Way of tombs, domed and inlaid and falling into decay, and two great towns walled round and battlemented, so big that we said "This must be Delhi at last" And Delhi they were, but the Delhis of 2000 years ago. This is all quite true, I feel I must add. Mr Chirol and Arthur dined with us and we talked of the insoluble problems of India. One of the most difficult is the education of the kings. They send them to Colleges. They send them to Oxford and then they bring them back to marry purdah wives and to rule over Hindu Subjects, with whom, if the education is of any value at all, they have completely lost touch. Just as they teach the smaller fry the Excursion and the Gallic Wars of Caesar, which they learn by wrote and of which they understand not a syllable. I said "Why not teach them Arabic and Sanscrit, the roots of their own tongues and the sources of their own literatures, both great languages and an education in themselves?" Arthur answered "They have tried that in Benares [Varanasi]. They founded a College to teach Sanscrit and Sanscrit literature and it has proved a hot bed of sedition and of revolt." There is more in these things than meets the eye.

Tues 5 [i.e. 6]. [6 January 1903] This morning I watched a most interesting function. It was a great Sikh feast day, the birthday of Govind their first Goru (teacher[?]) and the death day of Teg Behadur, the 9th Goru. Teg Behadur was imprisoned by Aurungzeb, who shut him up in the Fort here in Delhi. One day they saw him gazing up at the palace and one came and told the Mogul "The Sikh prisoner is spying into the Zenana." Whereupon the emperor sent for him and taxed him with this crime, but he answered "I was not looking at your women, but for the white faces of those who are coming out of the West to overthrow your empire." The emperor promptly put him to death and his shrine is in the Chandin Chauk, but the Sikhs say that it was our rule he predicted and accordingly today they determined to keep his festival in great state. It was a Sikh tamasha entirely. The roads were lined with Sikh soldiers and there were scarcely any Europeans there. I met a man I knew who introduced me to an old Sikh who was running the show, and he took me up to the roof of the Shrine from whence I saw everything - Patiala's band of Sikh pipers and drum majors clothed in leopard skins, the arrival of the Akhalas, who are Sikh dervishes, clothed in chain armour and with enormously high green turbans stuck full of knives and the Sikh quoit which they throw so dexterously that they cut off their enemies' heads with them (they are mentioned as weapons in the earliest Sanscrit epics) and finally the procession itself. The bands played Sikh tunes and God Save the King on most discordant instruments as the first state carriage drove up. The front seat was empty except for a pile of cloth of gold wrappings which a man was fanning with a yak tail fan - this was Granth Sahib, the holy book of the Sikhs which they treat as a divinity. He (or is it it?) was carried out most carefully in his gold wrappings and deposited in the shrine. Then came Patiala's led horses, lovely arabs in cloth of gold saddle cloths, and then in great state, Patiala himself, who is a little love in his gold and silver carriage, followed by the other Sikh Kings, Nabha, Feridkot and so on, a fine oriental show which I was very glad to have seen, the only really Indian piece of rejoicing in the whole Durbar. I hear the Muhammadans are furious because the Viceroy's guests, who were seated on the top of the Mosque to see the Entry, eat ham sandwiches there. They ought to have known better. Also the report that the Duke asked for an escort of the 9th Lancers at the Durbar is quite untrue. Lord Curzon himself arranged that. Hugo, Sibyl and I lunched with Susan at the Artillery Camp. Colonel Coxhead was our host and we also met Susan's hosts, the Blunts - dull people all. Captain Battine is so loathed in the regiment that they won't speak to him! It rained hard last night and is grey and cold today - the first rain we have had since the Indian ocean. However I've induced my fire to burn in my tent so I'm rather cosy. We, that is, Arthur Hugo and I, dined with Mr Chirol and went to the ball by train in order to avoid the crush of carriages. We got there very successfully about ´ an hour before the Viceroy. (Our programmes, by the way, had a crowned C outside them - but whether it stands for Curzon or for Coronation I can't tell!) It was a beautiful party and very amusing. I was standing almost in the front row when the Royal Lancers were going on and watched them. Lady Curzon wore a magnificent gown of shimmering gold and silver; it was embroidered all over, closely and with small peacock feathers in gold on a silver ground. She had on magnificent diamonds. But I think the Duchess of Marlborough's pearls were the most beautiful jewels there. A little knot of Rajas in wonderful clothes stood on the platform under Shah Jehan's throne, but except Bikaner, who is a splendid creature, the Duke of Connaught was by far the finest gentleman there. It tailed away in the women, the greater part of whom were only soldiers' ladies and the wives of officials. Their husbands were all right in uniform, but the women were remarkably dowdy. The most beautiful sight was the supper room which was no other than Shah Jehan's Diwani Khas, a white marble hall of pillars inlaid with gold in which is the famous Persian inscription "If there be a paradise on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here!" Behind it are a set of rooms called the Painted Rooms, white marble inlaid with exquisite designs in colours - if only Shah Jehan could have seen how enchanting his palace looked lit by electric light! I talked to masses of people and we came away about 2, which was as well, for we were an hour and a half getting home.

Wed. 6 [i.e. 7]. [7 January 1903] No I've no time for more! Your affectionate daughter Gertrude