December 30, 1911: This month’s Coronation Durbar and transfer of capital to Delhi are the biggest feathers in Lord Hardinge’s cap at the end of his first full year as Viceroy. As the year draws to a close, he lets readers in on some backstage secrets from the last 13 months spent in preparation.
The Durbar turned out to be a perfect show. Are you satisfied?
Very. I am also surprised, because our dress rehearsals were a fiasco. Even on Durbar day — typical of Indian methods — the last few nails were being driven into the red carpet only two minutes before my escort rode up. But finally, everything worked like clockwork. Even the weather held out bright and sunny although there was a deluge of rain just 30 miles from Delhi.
Is it true you started planning the arrangements before starting for India?
Not at all. The first I heard of His Majesty’s decision to convene a Durbar in Delhi was by telegram on landing at Bombay, on November 18 last year (1910). Everything’s been done in these 13 months.
What did you make of Delhi on your first visit?
When I first came here at the end of winter, 20,000 people were at work on the grounds, water supply, lighting, drainage, the amphitheatres, etc. But Red Fort was a picture of neglect. Diwan-i-Aam, Moti Masjid and other incomparable buildings were littered with rubbish, bricks, stones, refuse, etc, and the fort was surrounded on one side by a wet marshy jungle on the riverbank, which I was told bred and harboured the most poisonous kind of mosquitoes. I gave orders for cleaning up the inside of the fort, and laying it out as a garden. As for the jungle, I had it cut down, drained and turned into a park.
In the early months, plans were repeatedly altered from London. How did you stop that?
I had to put my foot down as the rains were near. The meddling stopped after I conveyed it to His Majesty that while camps covering 25 square miles were laid out, 40 miles of roads, 26.5 miles of broad-gauge and 9 miles of narrow-gauge railway, 50 miles of water mains and enough lighting for two fair-sized towns were still being built.
There was also some awkwardness about the crown…
From the start, we assumed His Majesty would bring his crown. So, when we were told the crown could not leave English shores, and a special one ought to be made for the Durbar at Government of India’s expense, we were shocked. Then, there arose concerns about safeguarding the new crown, as its falling into the hands of rebels in another Mutiny would be politically disastrous. It has now been decided to house it in the Tower of London with the rest of the Regalia.
How cooperative were the native princes?
I would say extremely cooperative, barring, of course, Baroda’s misconduct at the Durbar. They did not upset the government’s plans but some of their demands did unsettle us for a while.
Such as…
Well, one prince wanted to bring two tame tigers to the camp. I reasoned, and finally forbade, the attempt on the grounds that the cats would keep the entire camp awake at night.
Talking of animals, you had strong views against the king’s horses.
The steeds were chosen on purely practical grounds, but from the beginning I believed they were not worthy of the king. My own black thoroughbred looked so much statelier than the horses he used here. In fact, I had wanted his horses to be brought from England, but His Majesty turned down the proposal. Finally, he made do with a small, dark brown horse of no noticeable appearance that was selected entirely for its calm nature.
In hindsight, don’t you think the king should have ridden an elephant during the state entry?
Absolutely. During the parade, His Majesty himself told me that he was disappointed at his non-recognition by the people. I also noticed that the people did not recognize the king, who after all is a small man, and was dressed in a red coat like the other generals and was riding a small horse.
London almost expected an assassination attempt on the king during his visit. What special security arrangements were made?
I personally supervised and assumed full responsibility for all measures taken. The day before His Majesty’s arrival, 300 dangerous characters in Delhi were comfortably locked up for the 10 days of his stay here. But the chief danger in my opinion lay in Chandni Chowk, where the procession was to pass almost under the windows of houses. So, I ordered that nobody but British troops should stand on the pavements that day. I brought in 4,000 police from the provinces and stationed an officer at every window. Nobody was allowed on the rooftops, and Indian troops guarded the back lanes of houses. The procession passed through Chandni Chowk at 11am, but the street was put under curfew from 6am. And during those five hours, every house was thoroughly searched.
The transfer of capital to Delhi was the Durbar’s masterstroke. When was the idea conceived?
The move away from Calcutta had been coming a long time. Lord Lawrence had earlier expressed favour for Delhi, and even Lord Curzon wanted the capital removed to Agra.
But when was the decision taken?
I mailed my proposal to the secretary of state in July, and received his entire support and full authority to proceed, in a telegram on August 7. In November, I learnt the India Council in London had favoured the scheme, and it was accepted by the Cabinet a few days later.
Yet the news remained a secret till the end…
We ensured that it was known to only 12 people in India till the last minute. His Majesty did not share it even with Queen Mary. She was completely surprised when I broached the subject on board the Medina, on their arrival in Bombay.
It was one thing to keep the secret within our circle but another to suppress it while preparing and printing the gazettes and flysheets for the ceremony. We created a special Press Camp, complete with printing machines, and board and lodging for the workers. The staff was brought in three days before the Durbar, and a cordon of troops and police ensured that neither man nor word got outside.
Amid all this cheer, how’s Calcutta taking the news of transfer?
The native population does not mind, but the English trading interests there can’t stop carping. One English newspaper recently published a leader titled HMG, which I thought meant His Majesty’s Government, but later found to be an acronym for Hardinge Must Go! I have since informed one of its editors that I will, but only from Calcutta.
(Adapted from Lord Hardinge’s India memoirs)
