1938 April
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 3rd 1938
My darling Annette
The mail on Friday brought a letter from Mrs. Williams saying she can let us have her rooms at Capel Curig from 5 August for three weeks – Yesterday I also heard from Sir Lewis and Lady Fermor, who had suggested that I should attend the British Association Meeting in Cambridge with them, saying that the meeting is not going to be the last week of August or Beginning of Sept, as they had thought, but from 17th to 24th August. Now I don’t want anything to come in the way of our having a good holiday of 2 ½ to 3 weeks to-gether in Wales, but at the same time I should very much like to go to the British Association Meeting, partly because I have become so interested in Science and partly because I should like the chance of meeting again some of the many interesting people whom I met this January when they came out to the Indian Science Congress. Even with the Air Mail it takes rather a long time to get answer and question to and fro – so I am going to push the responsibility of deciding whether we can go to Capel Curig either before or after the British Association Week, and whether I should cut it out entirely. It depends on your plans, Richard’s plans and Romey’s school, as well as the proposed date for Richard’s dance.
Romey leaves school on July 26th. Now if she goes home that day and Richard could drive the two of you up to Capel Curig the following day, I could come down from the north and meet you there. From 27th July to 17th Aug would give us exactly three weeks. (If necessary I could pop off one day earlier) – As an alternative:- Supposing we go to Capel Curig on 25th August we could stay till 15th Sept – or if Richard’s dance is to be on the 16th or 17th we could stay only 2 ½ weeks and come home on Monday Sept 12th. Will you consult Aunt and the other two and if you think if feasible to alter the plan with out being too much bother, then write to Mrs Williams at Gwern Gof Isaf
Capel Curig,
North Wales
and ask her if she can have us for the dates you propose, but if she cant, then we had better stick to our original ones, and I will cancel the idea of going to the British Association Meeting.
Sorry to give you this bother but I know you will carry out my behests efficiently.
I am writing to Mrs. Williams to expect a letter from you in a few days, so will you send her a line, even if it is not possible to alter our plans, confirming the original dates.
Dad has been away in Midnapore for three nights, and yesterday I spent the day in Calcutta, went flying with Idris in the afternoon and stayed the night at the Towers, meeting Dad at 8.15 at Howrah Station this morning, and coming straight back here.
I brought back masses of books in the car, borrowed from various sources for Dad gets frightfully hard up for reading matter – I’m not going to attempt to write you a “newsy” letter, as that will come later in the week.
Love and blessings on you all
Mum
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 6th 1938
My Dears,
The Hot Weather is stoking up. After some weeks of temperatures round about 100°, Calcutta was 103° yesterday, and Burdwan which is a little further away from Calcutta than we are, was 105°. We were, I am sure, somewhere in the same region. When the windows were opened at 5 o’clock, hot air poured into the house like a furnace blast. I have been reading an old guide book to Calcutta and neighbouring districts, as well as the District Gazateer, and constantly I have wondered how the early settlers out here, and the later European colonies, endured the heat. Their clothes, their food, their style of living, all seemed so hopelessly unsuited to a climate such as this. Even looking back on our early years in Contai and in Asansol, where we had neither fans nor ice, seldom could arrange for pull punkahs, and went a great deal on tour even in the Hot Weather, I rather marvel at our endurance, and still more at the endurance of many people who did and still do have do much worse.
Herbert went on tour to Midnapore last Thursday. I did not go with him, for I should only have had to remain shut up all day, and its pleasanter to do that in ones own house, with all ones writing things and books and papers. I took the opportunity of having the Matron of the Hospital and the Scotch Missionary to dinner on Thursday, and we spent quite an agreable, though not very exciting evening. The following day Mr Stein summoned me to play singles with him, since all the other tennis players were out, and I am glad to say he did not slaughter me as badly as I thought he would. He cam to the house later to help me entertain Dr and Mrs Ghose. Dr Ghose is the Principal of the College here. He is a small, slender, fair-skinned Bengali who was educated at Oxford, and who, as we discovered, talks well. His wife is a plump, agreable lump of flesh. She speaks English but must be shy, for it is difficult to get her to speak. After some attempts on such subjects as whether she likes this place, how many children she has, and similar simple matters, I gave it up, and just let her listen while we talked of Educational matters, and European politics. Except for Major Nicholas, who left so soon after we came, Dr Ghose seemed to me to have the most lively and intelligent mind of anyone I have met here. Whether he has the character to maintain and improve a job such as the headship of a big College, is quite another matter. That is where so many of the Bengalis come down. Many of them can talk. So few of them can act.
On Saturday morning I went off to Calcutta, where I spent a brief time in the shops, and then did a lot of Himalayan Club work. Louise Rankin, my very charming little American friends gave me lunch. She always has the most intrigueing cold dishes in the hot weather, and serves them so that they look like those marvellous advirtisements one sees in the American papers. I stayed with her till past three o’clock, when I went off to Dum Dum to meet Idris, with whom I was to do some flying. I had not been up in the air for ages, and had never continued my first lesson in piloting the machine. This time Idris made me keep my hand very lightly on the stick, and my feet on the rudder when he was taking off, so that I could get the feel of it, and then gave over to me when we were up in the air. We flew up here, and he took over and flew very low over the house and town, because Herbert wanted to know whether there is any unbuilt-on land, through which a fresh approach to the town could be driven, for the present narrow lane, with open drains on either side is a disgrace. I am afraid that all the land is built on, but there seems to be a road through a residential part of the town which might be utilized. Its astonishingly difficult to see things quickly enough from a plane. Until I had had a little experience of taking photos from the air, I found it difficult to pick up detail at all. The servants were all out on the lawn to salaam us when we turned and flew back over the house. At the Flying Club there were people to tea, old friends whom I was glad to see. I stayed the night at the Towers, and it seemed funny to be back in our old rooms, without our own furniture. The cook gave us an excellent dinner, and was waiting anxiously in the Hall afterwards, got up in a spotless white shirt, to know if the meal had been approved of. Idris hankered after a film, so we went into Calcutta, and saw an extremely bad one, called “Stella Dallas” at the New Empire. It being Saturday night, we thought Firpo’s might be amusing, so turned in there for a drink. It certainly was full of people of all sorts. So full in fact that we had to go out on to the verandah, which had the advantage of being airy and cool. Idris had been reading some of the many scientific papers he takes in, and in order to explain to me some of the ideas he had culled from them, he had to resort to drawings, and covered the back of my shopping list, the drink bill and even a “tombola” ticket with diagrams. He has a gift for demonstrating mathematical and scientific concepts, and has taught me a lot from time to time.
The following morning I had an early breakfast, and went to meet Herbert at Howrah at 8.15. He was rather exhausted poor dear, for he had had to get up at 4.30, to catch this train, but if he did not do that, all later trains were slow ones. When we got home, he had a bath, looked at his letters, and then went to sleep till lunch time. There had been a dinner party the previous night at which the guests did not go till 1 o’clock, and the evening before that Herbert had been taken by his host, the Indian Collector of Midnapore, to see some boxing at the neighbouring big Railway centre, Khargpur. This, for Herbert, who likes early nights, was a bit of a strain. There is still a lot of trouble in Midnapore. Armed guards met Herbert at Khargpur, and walked on each side, and before and after him to the waiting car. Individuals are still accompanied by guards, as we used to be when anarchy was at its worst. Its an unpleasant atmosphere.
Richard’s cable telling us that he has got a First in Mods reached us just as we were sitting down to breakfast yesterday morning, and we felt very joyful! We rang up Harry and Winsome to share the good news with them.
We had a visit from a charming young couple on Monday afternoon. I may have mentioned them to you before, for they spent an afternoon with me at Cossipore a few weeks ago. She is an artist, who paints under her maiden name of Bip Pares, and she illustrated one of Eric Shipton’s books. The husband is changing jobs and just about to join Macmillan’s. During the hiatus between one job and the next, they took three months holiday and came out here, largely because she had been so fascinated by Eric Shipton’s photos of the Himalayas and the mountain people, she felt she wanted to paint from the real thing and not only from photos. I have them all the advice I could, and they got a copy of my book, which they are kind enough to say was their Bible, and went off to Sikkim. If ever two people got the best out of a month in those lovely mountains, those two have, and she has brought back a big portfolio full of remarkable sketches. Recently she has been illustrating a book on the Life of St Patrick, and went over to Ireland to get the local colour of the mountains. There she evolved a monochrome technique, which is nothing but ink (the ordinary blue-black) and water. It was so successful, and reproduces so well, that she has tried it again here, and were both immensely impressed by it. I have never seen such successful renderings of the great masses of thickly wooded mountains, slashed by deep valleys, and rising fold after fold to the magnifisence of the snows, as she achieved. The ordinary water-colour fails completely, as a rule, and oils become too heavy.
They rang me up about mid-day on Sunday to say they were back in Calcutta and wanted to show me the sketches. I couldnot go in again so soon, but I was touched by the fact that they said they had the loan of a car and might they come out. They are the sort of people that it is a refreshment to meet - - - both so keen and intelligent, and withal, so nice-Mrs Bradby had made pencil sketches of a number of flowers, and wanted their names. I am a bit rusty, as I have not been doing anything with the mountain plants for eighteen months, and there were one or two I could not remember, so I have to look them up in my collection, and spent a happy hour over it after the Bradbys had left. I can waste any amount of time messing about with plants, or even with books or catalogues telling about them. My collection still needs mounting. I would like to do it before I come home, but its difficult to work with little dried specimens under a fan.
Talking of plants reminds me that I have never mentioned the trees in this compound, and they are remarkably fine. There are specimens of several that are not at all common in Bengal, and one corner devoted to our cousins from Australia, which acclimatise well here. There are a group of Silver Oaks, and a line of the Australian Pines (Auricaria). Just to the south of the house, and in full view from the verandah where I drink my early morning tea, is a huge peepel, the same species as that under which Budha was sitting when he got enlightenment, and hence called Ficus religiose. I do not think any tree, even a beach, puts on its new foliage more beautifully than a peepel. On the bare twigs appear tight cream-coloured rolls, which unfold into delicate heart-shaped leaves, sometimes of a soft dull pink, and sometimes of a pale translucent green.
In a few days the whole tree is covered with bright pale green fluttering foliage. My tree is in that state now, and begins to hide the many birds who come there in the early morning. Luckily the splendid pair of white breasted kingfishers who are regular attendants, sit on the extreme tips of the branches, so that the brilliant blue and chestnut of their plumage shows up well. This garden is almost better for birds than the Cossipore one, except that I have not yet actually seen any owls. I am quite sure there must be some here.
Gradually quite a number of children have appeared from the servants quarters. Presumably they were being kept out of sight till it was discovered what sort of a person I am. If the servants only knew how glad I am for them to have their families with them! I hate the Calcutta system of only allowing the barest minimum of space for the domestics. Here there is a splendid range of godowns, stables, kitchen and wash-house. The most engaging of the children is a four months old baby boy belonging to the head chaprassi. The little creature has black curls all over his head, a big pair of dusky eyes, with the sort of baby greyness still in them, like a young kitten’s, and a clear pale brown skin. He wears a minute shirt of celanese, if you please! and a couple of amulets. He holds on to my finger and laughs at me like anything.
Mogul brought his wife, his pretty little twelve year old daughter, his goat and his green parrot all up here by boat. I have given him a large godown. a stall next door to it, and a wide bit of verandah in front, all of which he has built in with bamboo matting, making for their standards, a roomy purdah establishment.
The repairs in the drawing room progress, but they are taking the devil of a long time over them, and I am impatient to be finished.
Its only seven weeks till I see you all! Sitting here at the moment, looking out at the palm trees, silhouetted against the great shimmering river, it seems so extremely improbably, but I suppose its true. I’ve a bunch of letters about my passage, and reservations on the trains, and all the stuff incidental to travelling, which give it a semblance of reality.
Meantime I send you all my love and blessings
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 7th 1938.
My darling Annette
Since I feel extraordinarily disinclined to write letters this morning, this is not going to be a very long one. I suppose it is the heat that makes one feel dull. I have had a busy morning messing round the compound, and seeing after domestic things in the house, and thought its not yet 11 o’clock, I feel extremely sleepy. Of course I have been up sine 6 o’clock, so I have accomplished a fair amount all ready.
We are greatly delighted over Richard’s success. Its splendid that taking the exam calmly repaid him so well.
I am still reading a mass of science books, with occasional excursions into the District Gazateer or Thacker’s Guide to Calcutta, and at moments late in the evening, when I am too sleepy to read solid stuff, I indulge in “The Readers Digest” or look at the papers from the Club, which are sent to us in turn. I have not done so much reading for years.
There is going to be great difficulty in keeping Dad supplied with books here. He wants masses of light stuff and gets through it so quickly. Moreover he has read practically every detective novel that has ever been written, so its only the absolutely new ones that are any use to him.
I wish he were finding life here a little more lively. He is bored by the enormous number of official visitors he has to see, and the number of accounts of quarrels he has to listen to. He wants to get on to the job of seeing whether he can pull the remnents of his scheme out of the fire, but says he never has time to get round to it. His arm is bothering him so that he cant play tennis. The golf course is twenty minutes drive away, and I doubt whether he would play if it were at his door, so its difficult to invent any distractions for him. Altogether I feel rather worried about him, and a bit guilty that I have arranged to come home. However my going home, may work in the way of getting him to go out more. It has done before, and anyhow I cant change all my plans now, so its no use worrying too much.
There have been no letters from you and from Richard this week, so I have nothing to provoke me to thought, and I feel bankrupt of ideas, so I shall make an end of this.
Best love
from
Mum
From LJT to GCT
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 7th 1938.
Dearest Grace,
Your letter has just arrived, in which you comment on my unwelcome visitor. I am sorry to report that the treatment was not successful, and we do not think we have got rid of the head, so I shall have to have another and stronger dosing next week. I have been taking some capsules which are supposed to discourage the creature, so we will hope that the next treatment will be successful. The eggs of tape worms are common in beef and in pork out here, and beef should always be very throughly cooked. Possibly somewhere or other I ate beef that was underdone, and this is the result. The doctor says quite cheerfully “Of course a tapeworm does not do any harm to a well nourished person” Still, on the whole I think I would rather be without it! I am so thankful that it was me and not Herbert who was afflicted like this. He would have worried himself into a perfect stew over it I am sure.
Your idea that I should arrange to be at Highways for the week-end after Witsun sounded so attractive, but I am sorry to say it is the week-end of Rosemary’s speech day and mid term exeat, so I must be at Oxford on the Friday, and take her to Gwen’s for the week-end.
It is awfully nice of you to say I may come to Highways any time, and I greatly appreciate Gwen’s kindness in being willing to sleep at home if we need her room. Will you tell her so? I wrote a long letter to Annette about Summer holiday arrangements, which I expect she has shown to you.
I am now getting rather worried about leaving Herbert, for he is feeling the heat, gets tired in the evenings, and is depressed, but I cant swing round and change all my plans now. It may be that my coming home may stimulate him to go out more. It has happened like that before. In some ways I think it is better for him to have to put his troubles out of sight, and make himself talk of other things, than to have me here to listen all the time. Its a pity he allows things to make him so miserable. He does really allow himself to wallow in distress very often, and I have not got the knack of laughing him out of it. He has gradually shut off all the simple pleasant distractions that make life amusing, and lighten the severity of things. Its not for want of a struggle on my part, for I have done my best to persuade him and make things easy for him, but he just does not seem to have the strength to work and play.
Richard’s cable telling us of his success in Mods, gave us keen delight. Certainly both you and we are lucky in our children. I am so very pleased that Richard got his First in spite of having taken the exam in a sensibly reasonable spirit. I should hate the idea of any of the children working themselves into a state of high tention and nerves.
(Sorry for all this mess of the lines going wrong. I rubbed out a letter and it shiften the paper. It is because I want to get more skilled on the typewriter that I am going to type more of my letters.)
It was sad news about John Bartree, but better that he should go, rather than remain on as an invalid. What a good fellow he has been! What age was he?
I’ve just been telling the children that ones mind feels awfully dull in this hot weather, and ideas done flow very easily, so I am afraid my letters are both dull and short this week. They carry my very best love to you all. I am enormously excited at the thought of seeing you all so soon. I don’t think I have ever felt my personality quite so cut in half before. I wish Herbert could afford to chuck and come home with me, but I fear it would curtail the Children’s varsity careers. Also in a curious way he dreads retiring, because he says he does not know what he will do with himself.
Best love
Joan
I must let you know about posts on the way home – I think the Air Mails in both directions are to be speeded up from next week.
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 13th 1938
My darling Annette
When yours and Richard’s letters came last week, Dad having read them through, said, in rather a melancholy way “They do seem to enjoy themselves, anyway.” He’s awfully pleased that you do, of course, but I think he feels a little envious, or perhaps I should say, ‘regretful’, that he had so little of that sort of enjoyment himself, and that he has never got the knack of it. The letters in question are the ones where you tell of your expedition to London to see Peg –
So you don’t feel envious of the young ladies in the Smart Set “doing the Season”? I never really did either – I used to see the edges of it, sometimes – My Denney cousins (eldest Quilter’s daughter’s family had been friends of mine when we were all children, and I used to see them now and again in London when we were grown up – Their mother was fearfully keen always to be doing the right thing and to be seen with the right people – which must be such an exhausting performance. I don’t believe the girls really cared about it frightfully. The Drakes sound awfully nice people and you give me the impression that they are able to see through this Smart Set business and out the other side!
My friend Walter Jenkins is pleased because his younger daughter has just got her Cambridge entrance and was given the choice of Newnham or Girton and has taken the latter – She is going to do Physics and Chemistry – Her father wanted her to do Economics and History – or, if she was determined to do Science, at least to take Biology as one of her subjects, because he believes it and its sister sciences of genetics, eugenics and so on to be the coming things. I think it would be awfully nice if we could interest Rosemary in that line of thought. Walter Jenkins is a great comfort to me sometimes because I can discuss with him all the things which I am not allowed to mention to Dad because they might make him a) angry or b) depressed!!
I’m glad you know of a cheap pub where you think I shall be able to stay – That six weeks to-day I shall be rolling across France in a train and that a couple of days later I shall see you all, seems quite, quite incredible!
Dad seems a little more cheerful and a little less tired this week and my feelings about leaving him have suffered a consequent modification.
(Some blasted mosquito has bitten me just above the elbow and made such an itch!)
Best love, my dear
from
Mum
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 14th ‘38
My Dears,
This morning’s excitement has been the punctual arrival of the first accelerated Air Mail. It seems to bring you all pleasantly close. News of the beautiful weather that England has been enjoying, creeps into letters and newspapers, and even the cinema news, and gives one a bit of a heart-ache for all the lovely spring things. The English country is so clean. The Indian country is so dirty. One loves to be in contact with the English earth. In India one keeps carefully away from it, knowing it to be full of tetanus germs, hookworms, and all manner of other unpleasantnesses. I have just been giving my masalchi an impassioned lecture on hookworm, by the way. He complained that he had had medicine only a few months ago, and got rid of these wretched little parasites, but that he has now got them again. Would I please ask the doctor to give him some really good medicine that would cure him for good and all. This gave me my text, and I gave him a rapid sketch of the life history of the hookworm.
Our weather has been anything but pleasant. The temperatures have been round about 103 or 104, but there has been no breeze at all for some days, and as a rule we get a strong breeze during the hot weather, especially in the evenings, and we miss it sadly. Clothes, cushions, bedding, all seem so hot to the touch. Its marvellous that the cooling apparatus of our own systems is so efficient. Ones skin always seems to feel cool to the touch.
In spite of the heat I spent a busy day in Calcutta on Tuesday, and did’nt find conditions too trying. Two reasons took me in. One was to discuss the plans and estimates for the new Himalayan club Hut which is to be built in Sikkim, with Dr Heron, and the other was to see Kitty and Walter Jenkins before they left for Darjeeling as they did last night. Dr Heron took me to lunch at the Great Eastern Hotel, where the dining-room is air-conditioned. I asked whether he minded if I did not wear a hat, because they are such hot things. He replied that he did not mind at all, but he must warn me that we should be asked the number of our room! I decided on comfort rather than modesty, and sure enough almost as soon as we were seated, one of the head khansamahs enquired for our room number. With a twinkle in his eye at me, Dr Heron replied severely “I will pay cash”. We spent a good time over the plans after lunch, but later I went shopping, finishing up with a visit to one of the Second Hand Furniture Shops in Wellesley Street. I wanted a small cheap wash-hand stand. A young Babu took me across to their store, which was a court-yard surrounded by sheds of various sorts, and roofed in here and there with sheets of corrugated iron, or tarpaulins. Tethered amongst the table legs and fastened to cupboard doors were several cows, with appropriate calves, and a number of goats. As I stood gazing up at the roof of a shed where a number of old tables were stacked, I felt a gentle tug at the back of my skirt, and looking down I saw that a matronly white goat had gathered some six or eight inches of my green crepe frock into her mouth. Luckily I was in time to save any damage from being done. and when I had wiped off the saliva and the many scraps of grass, of which the animals mouth had evidently been full, and pulled the material into shape again, it soon dried up and looked none the worse for its adventure. Percy Brown, with whom I then went to tea, threatens to draw a picture of this incident. I wish he would, for he does those sort of sketches most amusingly.
Walter Jenkins and I met at the Saturday Club at 6 o’clock, and as Kitty, who is one of the worlds greatest talkers, had to preside at some meeting, Walter and I had time for a quiet talk before Kitty joined us. I had not seen Walter since Richard got his First in Mods, and Walter had the news for me that his younger daughter has got her Cambridge entrance and goes up to Girton in the Autumn, - - and so we launched into the subject, ever-green to parents of children in their teens, of careers for our young. Walter is an interesting man to talk with on such a subject, for he has a lot of knowledge. He is number two in the education service out here, which does not in itself mean much perhaps, but he happens to be keen, and he happens to be one of the people who believes in change and development on a conscious plan, as a cure for our present discontents.
Up to the present he has been one of the people who has cherished a belief that the Indians would rise to the occasion when they had to govern themselves, and in spite of mistakes, would make good. Our present Ministry in Bengal has smashed his hopes. He says they have no stability, no honour, no ability to visulize a policy, no courage to refuse petitions, in fact none of the qualities essential in a ruler. Herbert’s belief has not been smashed, because it was never there, but he says all the same things, only with more violence. Sir Bijoy Singh Roy rang him up yesterday, in a great state of perturbation, saying that the peasants in Burdwan where all his estates are situated, are refusing to pay their rents, and what can he do? Herbert can only say “I told you so”, as he did time and time again when the elections were on, and these men were making all sorts of promises about remission of rents. The situation is aggravated now by the fact that all the political prisioners have been let out of jail, and after promising to give up anarchist work, they are keeping just within the letter of their undertaking, but are going round inciting the people not to pay taxes and rent, because of the promises that were made to them. There are almost bound to be riots and revolution before the situation is got in hand again. Bijoy has asked Herbert to go down to advise him on Saturday. Herbert says he lay awake for hours last night trying to see any possible solution to the situation, which the Ministers have created by their own greed and stupidity, but he can see no loop-hole. It seems impossible that the peasants will give in to anything but force now. There is much the same situation in the United Provinces and in Bihar, apparantly. Herbert will at any rate have the somewhat empty satisfaction of being able to say “I told you so”.
I have wandered rather far from the Saturday Club, where Kitty joined us later in the evening, also a little down-hearted about the work that Indian women are doing. She is Secretary to the branch of the National Council of Women in Calcutta, and has just been up to Delhi to attend an all India meeting. She had been reporting on this to the local branch. She is an amusing card, even on subjects such as this, but as I hinted earlier, she tends to sweep up the conversation, and make it all her own. I went back to dinner with them, and left for Chinsurah about ten o’clock. The long drive home at night in the open car is pleasant, and it always amuses me to see so much of the village life taking place quite unself-consciously, in the street. Most of the men bring their string beds or their mats out of doors and sleep by the road side, while the wretched women have to endure the heat of the little houses. There were card parties going on under the street lamps, and parties sitting talking, or listening to a drummer or two, and in Chandanagar a play was going on in the street, some of the actors dressed as women with their faces painted pink. A large crowd were watching, and we had to do a deal of hooting before they cleared a way for us to pass. I could sense the driver getting more and more irate. He has a strong sense either of his own importance or of mine, I am not quite sure which.
No less than four people chose to visit us from Calcutta on Sunday. Two young men came to spend the day, and one of the High Court Judges, Sir Leonard Costello, came to tea and dinner, the excuse being to bring back my Journal of the trip I did into Tibet some years ago, and which he has had on loan, because he was planning a similar trip later in the year. He brought Mrs Hance, who lived below us in Rowland Rd and from whom we rented that flat. She is a woman I like and admire very much. For some years she has been running a concern called “The Bengal Home Industries” which is under the Department of Industries. She had to come up here for a meeting of a committee who have been trying to improve the old cottage industry of a certain sort of white cotton embroidery called Chicon work, and stayed Sunday night with us. We were glad to see her for we always enjoy her company.
We have played tennis some days, and one afternoon I took the D.I.G. of police’s daughter, who has just recovered from measels, to explore the old Dutch cemetery. Its a huge place, with still room to bury several hundred people in it I should think. Its extremely quiet, and has a certain sort of rather melancholy charm about it. The early Dutch people mostly went in for enormous monuments, of a very simple design, the favourite being a quadrangular base with a tall three sided “Fleche” some twenty or thirty feet high standing on it. If they wanted to be remembered they have achieved it after a fashion, for one reads their names, and tries to imagine what they were like and how they lived.
The drawing-room is still not finished. While I was away on Tuesday they slapped on a colour wash of a bright sort of orange ochre colour where as I had chosen a deep cream. The Contractor proudly showed me the number on the packets, which corresponded to the number I had marked on the sample card, and it took me a little while to discover that the sample card was from an English make, whereas what they had put on my walls was an Indian manufactured article. And so after a lot of talk the whole lot is being washed off and it will be done again. India is a good country to teach one patience.
Its almost lunch time, which makes a convenient reason for stopping, since I don’t really think I have anything else to say, and rather suspect that what I have written is pretty dull. One does feel a bit dull when it is as hot as this, you know!
As usual I send you my best love and blessings
LJT
From HPV to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 14th 1938
My dear Annette.
I have been reading the circular letter which your mother has written this week – and annoyed her by saying “How worthy a letter you write!” But it is true and the wells of eloquence are dried up within me as a result. She says, why not quote the letter from the old head clerk. Received on the 11th, it starts thus.
“Your kind letter of benediction of 7/1/36 did me much good. I recouped my health to some extent since then. I a now a Septuagenarian.
I see that Laodemia prayer has been heard by Jove. Long I prayed before the Almighty to see you in the General Dept. My heart leaps with joy to find you as our Chinsurah Commisioner.
A thought comes uppermost. It is said that Virtuous Man goes to heaven but if virtue feeble even Heaven itself comes down to him So if I delay fulfilling my cherished wish you honor may perhaps come down here to inspect the subdivisional office. You will afford me opportunity to pay my respect here. I am now chewing the cud of this sweet thought.
Is your darling in England for study or is he with you? How may are they I know not. My blessings to them all.”
And he ends my obedient servant. That is the real thing and how superior to the manufactured stuff by which some seek to raise a laugh.
It is hot. The workmen continually beat upon beams with hammers, like men upon the wheels of trains, testing whether they ring true. This destroys the intellect. Mosquitoes roam at large. Ra size. A new measure of distance of two lamps seen across a river by night: “as far apart as the eyes of a toad” – your mother at once perceived its essential truth but I cannot say why it should be so.
All goes wrong officially. But I have redoubled my spirits and written to Government proposing that they should prepare for further large schemes of irrigation and drainage as a political measure against sedition. If they can be hypnotised into the idea that of course they are going on with my schemes, they may actually go on with them. The curious thing is that they always say “We shall push on” which in their talk means that they will run away.
This morning I felt an earthquake: alone of men I felt it: while drinking early morning tea. All others say No. But they were standing and it is harder to feel them so. Enough
Much love
Dad
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 19th 1938.
My Dears,
At last the big drawing-room is practically finished. It only remains to allow the paint on the window frames to dry properly, before the panes of glass are washed. The walls are now the colour of Devonshire cream, which was what I originally chose. I have just been hanging my beautiful Tibetan Tonkas, and a few pictures, and I now pause, while the servants unpack the books and put them in the middle of the room for me to sort into the right bookcases. When that it done I shall feel properly at home.
The papers have been talking of Calcutta’s Heat Wave. Temperatures have been 107 and 108, which is unusual for Calcutta even in May, and about ten degrees above normal for April. The Breeze has failed entirely until two days ago, which has made the weather abnormally trying.
We were down in Calcutta on Saturday, but not doing anything that made the heat specially trying. Herbert had to go in to see Sir Bijoy Singh Roy. I took the opportunity of meeting my old friend Milly Chaudhuri, of whom I think you must often have heard me speak. She is an extraordinarily honest, able, clear-sighted woman, to whom the mess that her own people are making of their first trial of governing themselves is a real tragedy. One of her sons was married last week. I had been unable to go to the wedding and she was telling me something about it, and said I should have laughed to see her messing about with fire and candles and garlands of flowers, because, although the young people have not any feelings about orthodox Hinduism, they submited to going through some Hindu ceremonies to please her husband’s people, and the girl’s relatives. The cause for amusement is that Milly was brought up in England as a Christian, and has become a complete atheist, so that this propitiation of the Hindu deities struck her as being comical. An hour’s talk with her always leaves me with much to think about. There followed a rather duty lunch with one of the High court judges, and his wife and daughter:- people whom I have known ever since I have been out here, and each one of whom I find duller than the last. They are so kind and so hospitable, but I always wonder if they bore one another as much as they bore me.
Herbert and I thought a good way to spend the afternoon would be in the artificially cooled atmosphere of the New Empire Cinema, so in spite of knowing nothing of the film that was on, we went there, and were reasonably fortunate. In the first half there were some excellent pictures of the boat-race. and the film “Nothing Sacred” was beautifully produced in technicolor, and was amusing. Having tea at the Saturday Club afterwards we met some people in from one of Herbert’s districts. and were well entertained by them, for the wife is a most amusing American., and she and Herbert always sharpen their wits on one another to the great pleasure of the rest of the party. It was jolly nice to get in to the swimming bath. I think that is what we miss most here in this hot weather. It is such a good way of spending that hot, mosquitoey time between dusk and dinner. Harry and Winsome gave us dinner, and we started for home very soon afterwards. I was glad for Herbert to get something in the way of diversion, for I think he finds life here a bit boreing.
A sense of duty had made us accept an invitation to attend a party given by “The Town Sporting Club” on Friday afternoon. Mr Hartley, the Collector, and I received invitations of a foral nature, inviting us “to meet Mr H.P.V. Townend”. I anticipated sitting in a fantastically hot room, being pressed to eat and drink things which I do not like, and making conversation with difficulty to young men whose English was totally inadequate. The reality turned out differently. We were entertained in what would have been a garden, had anyone put flowers and grass into it. On one side of the place some graceful ruined arches and Corinthian pillars, roused my curiosity. A white haired old gentleman, with a huge silver-knobbed stick was brought to sit beside me and tell me about them. We were on the site of the old Dutch Theatre. One could see how the wide broken arch had framed the proscenium, and behind the space of the stage was some charming old brick-work: the back wall, with graceful niches, divided by columns in base relief. I am going to photograph it one day soon, for its the sort of thing that may be pulled down at any moment to make way for a house. The old gentleman was able to give me a lot more information, and I think I shall ask him if he will take me round the town one day. The secretary of the Club was also an intelligent youth, speaking excellent English, and what is more, understanding it. Somehow we got on to the subject of Indian dancing, and he shared my admiration for Uday Shankar. Soon after we were seated by our tea-tables, a couple of young men were brought forward to give a demonstration of boxing. They fought three rounds, it seemed to me very prettily, but without much zip behind it. For exhibition purposes I suppose this would in any case have been correct, but I confess to a wonder whether they ever hit each other really hard. Next a youth in his late teens, and a small boy of about ten, did some ingenious balancing feats. On a monster wooden reel, about a foot in diameter and a foot and a half in length, they balanced a short plank, and on that they did long arm balances, climbed on one another’s shoulders and so on and so on. They are brothers, amatures, who happen to have a fancy for this sort of thing. The small boy was dressed in a cotton vest, long cotton pants to the ankles and white cotton socks, with a little pair of red trunks, and was evidently happy in the feeling that he looked like the real circus performer. To us it was so apparant that the golden brown skin of the young Indian in good condition, contrasted with trunks of some bright colour, which was what the boxers, and the lads who subsequently did muscle control, wore, is in every way so much more agreable to the eye. Three young men gave exhibitions of muscle control. Its amazing what they do, but one wonders a little what is the object of it. As a means to some achievement I can understand it, but as an end in itself it seems a little sterile. However it must mean hours of patient practice and self control, and evidently a keen interest in competition with others, which is a great deal better than running to see physically, and getting their interest and excitement in joining the anarchists.
Talk with the secretary and some of the other lads revealed that there are no less than twenty-one clubs in this town, which is, of course, for more than the town can carry. It means that many of them cannot get a ground to play on, nor put a hockey team or cricket side into the field without borrowing from another club. Mr Hartley is going to try to find out the reason for all this splitting up, and see if some great “League of Clubs” cannot be more successful in arranging affairs than the League of Nations has been up to the present.
Hockey is played here with enormous enthusiasm. The Police run about three teams, and there are several Clubs who produce teams, and are able to play some of the Calcutta sides. We watched a game the other day, at the invitation of “Chinsurah Sporting”, and went to see their club room afterwards, where they have a remarkably good library. It is refreshing now and again to come across things like this that give one the impression that part of the youth of Bengal is making some effort to build up wholesome interests.
20.4.38. I left this letter yesterday to go off and deal with the books, and it took me the rest of the morning, and from after lunch till three o’clock. This morning the mistris are busy scraping the paint off the pains of glass (They always get paint all over any neighbouring object) and giving them a final clean. Once they have done it wont take long to get the furniture into place. One can always produce plenty of hands in India. Its common-sense, brain and reliability, that are difficult to find, and which I really think we have to a large extent in our old khansamah, Mogul, though he has never had any “schooling”, and in many moral respects, is a complete rogue. Once or twice a week we make the complete round of the compound, inspecting go-downs, latrines, drains, the stables where the chapprassis keep their cows, the dhobi house and the kitchen, and even the river bank, to make sure it is not been used for purposes for which other accomodation is provided! Mogul enjoys all this. I suppose it gives him “face”.
By dint of a little guile and tact, I have led our driver, who is a good servant, but inclined to be moody, on to do all sorts of jobs for me. Little simple carpentry jobs about the house, he does quite well, and now I have him started on a great scheme of painting. At the moment he is re-painting all the bath tubs (We bath here in the good old Indian fashion in zinc tubs), and he has promised to do a whole bed-room full of furniture for me while I am in England. I have buttered him up a bit and told him that an intelligent man like himself can really understand how painting should be done, a thing about which none of the local mistris have any idea. Under instruction he is now useing his brushes properly, and keeping them clean, putting on thin coats and rubbing down with sand paper, and really making a good job of it. I hope he will continue to do it when my eye is no longer over him.
Thank goodness the wind has come back and has been blowing fiercely the last three days. It makes the early mornings and the evenings so pleasant, and though it is’nt exactly good for the play, at tennis it helps one to feel a little lively, and cools one down afterwards. Its pretty to see the boats coming up the river with the wind behind them and the rising tide to help them along. Its a matter of constant surprise to me that the river is still tiday here, some hundred miles from its mouth. I don’t wonder there are tremendous bores at the time of the extra-high tides. I should have thought they would have happened all the time.
We had a Forest man staying in the house for a couple of days last week. He came because he has been put on to a committee of which Herbert was asked to be chairman. It is to consider the possibility of the reafforestation of parts of Western Bengal. Both men are furious because they were told that it was to be a small working committee of half a dozen men who own or are interested in lands that are or were forest, and themselves. It has now been turned into a sort of political ramp with thirteen members. Mr Simmons is a nice man, recently come to Bengal from Assam. He turns out to have a passion for stastics,and is a great admirer of Professor Fisher, who was out here for the Science Congress in January. Herbert had a certain amount to do with Pr Fisher over a statistical conference, into which matters to do with his scheme came, and we met him privately several times. This was a matter of great envy to Mr Simmons, who carries a large book written by Pr Fisher round with him, as a means of whiling away the long lonely evenings in the Forests, and longs to have a chance of talking with him. Actually this statistacal bent of his is going to be useful in dealing with the material that will have to be gathered and considered by this committee.
I sometimes wonder whether these day-to-day matters that I write to you about, are really of the slightest interest to you. At this time of year when there is nothing much doing, and no people of note knocking about, it might be wiser to curtail my letters a good bit. The only excuse for writing them is that I hope they reproduce to a certain extent myself, my activities and my environment, so that absence does not make me a stranger to you.
My love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 21st 1938
My darling Annette,
Its rather pleasant getting the mail letters spread out over different days. After rather a long pause - - - (for her!) I had a long and most entertaining letter from Auntie at the very end of the last week and I laughed heartily over her account of how you were found sitting in the split deck-chair by a strange man!
How I wish that Dad had something of Auntie’s optimism and courage. he has sunk into the depths of depression at the moment, and there seems no way in which I can help him. Reason is useless. If he feels that the whole world is going to the dogs, his being miserable wont help things in any way, but that, of course, is really beside the point. His pessimism is in himself and not in the world. Sometimes I con over anxiously, what I can understand of the temperaments of you three children, and I am thankful to say that I see no sign of a pessimistic outlook among you. You appear to me to find life interesting, amusing and well worth living. At the age of forty-five I can assure I still find it so, and have every hope that I shall do so till I die.
To keep ones mind alive and plastic seems to me to be one of the great secrets of growing old happily and not being a nuisence to other people. To find change interesting and development in fresh directions worth while, keeps one in tune with the stream of life. Directly ones mind becomes static, it becomes dead. Auntie May is a tragic example of that. She was not unintelligent in her youth, though I think always inclined to dogmatise about what she only half understood.
Talking dogmatism, what a good example the modern scientists set us of not being dogmatic. Reading Westaway’s book in which he gives a sort of general history and survey of the scientific world, I have been tremendously impressed by the scientific attitude. The search for truth: the array of facts discovered, and then the standing back to invite comment and criticism, before struggling another step forward, seems to me so admirable, and so infinitely finer than the attitude of the theologian.
Its good to think I shall be with you five weeks to-morrow! I am relying on you to have some sort of a room booked for me on May 27th. Can you make an appointment with a hairdresser to give me a shampoo and set on the morning of Sat 28th. You and Richard will presumably be working on the 28th morning, and I am quite sure my hair will want some attention, and it would be a good opportunity to get it done.
What a nuisance for Peggy Christie having to come home from Germany. I wonder whether her father will allow her to go back. By the way, I don’t remember hearing whether her brother got through the Civil Service Exam, and if so whether he chose to come out to India.
Best love, my dear
From
Mum
From HPV to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 21st 1938
My dear Annette.
Letter writing grows less easy with advancing age: for two reasons – first, one has said everything that one is capable of saying: and secondly, with less energy one does less and sees less and so has less to say. We had a guest for two days: a Forest officer who has a passion for Statistics (theory of -): he carried a book on the subject in his suitcase and has covered it with annotations. but his visit was officially for the discussion of the West Bengal Forest Committee work, of which I am to be chairman: and two days of rather hard work filled us with growing anger and gloom as we became more and more persuaded that Government had made a hopeless muddle of the whole thing and that we shall have to do in consequence a lot of unnecessary work. On Saturday I was called down to Calcutta to see a minister and I lunched with him. The afternoon was devoted to pleasure: a film, a bathe, and dinner at Brother Harry’s. Twice I tried tennis: a failure: in this hot weather, on tope of a day’s work, I cannot manage to work up the necessary energy. it is hot – or it was hot: for yesterday there was some rain and there is now a howling wind.
Much love
Dad.
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 27th 1938
My Dears,
There is, I confess, a tendency for the news in my letters to concern chiefly my doings when I go to Calcutta. Perhaps it is inevitable in a place like this, at this time of year, for the days, though they pass pleasantly enough, drift by in a more or less unvaried routine, which does not supply much material for talk. At any rate one exciting incident has just taken place. A large mound covering a white ants’ nest, has annoyed me ever since we came here. I gave orders for it to be dug up, and search made for the Queen Ant. The mali has just come upstairs with the fat, white, two-inch long grub on a bit of broken flower-pot. I have sent her away to be cremated, and so pay for some of the damage her family have done to my chrysanthemum cuttings. There are five other nests in the compound, all of which I must have destroyed. My garden book tells me that it is a good thing to destroy the remaining inhabitants of the next by fumigating with Cyanogas crystals or Calcium Cyanide, so I shall see if I can get one or other of these chemicals in Calcutta next time I go down and have a through-going campaign against these wretched little termites. There is not the smallest quality of mercy in my feelings towards them.
I had two pleasant and interesting days in Calcutta at the week-end. Some time ago I had promised to dine with Louise Rankin on the 23rd, to meet the Chinese Consul General and his wife, and then a query came from John Hunt as to whether I could meet his wife, arriving from Bombay on the morning of the 24th, so I asked Percy Brown to put me up for the intervening night. I had company for the drive to Calcutta on the Saturday morning, for Walter Jenkins had been to stay the night with us. The evening of his visit was a cool and breezy one, after an exceptionally sticky day. Both before and after dinner we sat out on the chabutra (A circular slightly raised platform made of concrete, on which one is supposed to be safe from snakes) and talked at large of many things. After a morning of shopping and dealing with Himalayan Club affairs, I lunched with Percy Brown, and was delighted to find that another friend of mine, Mrs Stanley, head of the S.P.C.A. in Bengal, is travelling home on my boat and is also going second class. She is a woman of whom I am fond, and she is good company, for she has done and seen so much in her life. She was head of the Women Police during the War, supporting a paralysed husband, who subsequently died. Her years in India do not seem to have dulled her mind, and she has a keen sense of drama and of humour.
We spent the afternoon in one of the air-cooled cinemas, watching William Powell and Annabella in an absurd, but amusing film called “the Butler and the Baroness”, and afterwards went to the Saturday Club for tea and a bathe. It was delicious in the bath, and also very pleasant up on the sunbathing roof, with the cool breeze blowing through one’s wet bathing dress. When time compelled me to dress again, I put on evening dress and went along to spend an hour with Harry and Winsome, before going to my dinner-party. Winsome, the neat-fingered, has made me a lamp-shade for my standard lamp, which has completed the furnishing of the drawing-room.
Louise Rankin’s dinner-party was a great success. I was the only British subject there. Louise and her husband are Americans. Their other guests were the American Consul, Edward Groth, just back from a lightening trip to America, for some promotion exam in the Diplomatic Service, - - The Dutch Consul and his wife, also extremely nice people, and the couple for whom the party were given, to wit, Mr and Mrs Feng. They have not been long in Calcutta. Louise met them, and found them both so interesting and clever that she wanted them to meet some of the more intelligent people in Calcutta society. Louise, herself, suffered so much from the other sort when first she came to Calcutta, and always tells me that I was the avenue through which she got in touch with the intelligentsia. It is a complimentary half truth, for after a very few introductions, she was her own advertisement.
Oddly enough, I had never met any educated Chinese before. Mrs. Feng evidently comes from the best of modern China. She was at school with, and has always remained, a friend of Mrs. Kiang Chiang Kai-shek, and her sister. She has perfect poise and manners, talks English faultlessly, but with a slight American accent, and is beautifully turned out. The adjective slick, was the one that came to my mind as I looked at her. She wore an attractive gown of white silk, with bouquets of bright coloured field flowers woven into its fabric. It was cut on modernized Chinese lines, with short sleeves and high buttoned-neck, piped and buttoned with blue. Her smooth black hair was arranged in shining rolls, which looked thoroughly Chinese, but at the same time, followed quite closely the latest European style. She was on the other side of my host, so we were in the same conversation much of the time at dinner, and I had a long talk with her afterwards. I longed to ask her about affairs in China, but thought the time not suitable. At dinner the subject of languages and shades of meaning cropped up. I told the tale of a dear little French woman here, who was struggling to learn to speak English. She said to me, “They tell me I must not use the word ‘stomach’ at table. Should I say ‘Belly’? and how I said that we do not talk very much about our stomachs at meal times. At this the other nationals at the table exclaimed, almost with one voice “Not stomachs, perhaps, but don’t you just talk about your livers! “So, now and again, do we get a glimpse of how other people see us. Mrs Feng broke into the laughter, and said. “I find my people have both stomachs and livers to judge by the talk at the ladies mah-jong parties”. “And what” I said to Edward Groth “do the Americans talk about “? “Ah”, he said, with his rich New York drawl, “We are too fond of food, to consider the effects very seriously”. Certainly one does find in the American houses in Calcutta, food with an individuality , a cachet, and a quality about it, that one seldom meets in the wealthiest British home. Its knowledge, I suppose. They all learn about cooking, and they are interested in it. I often come home from some attractive, original American meal, full of good resolutions about teaching my cook all sorts of new dishes, but when the next morning comes, my mind rushes off to something which seems to me more interesting and more important, and the cookery books are left unopened.
After all I did not go to the station to meet Joy Hunt, for her husband was called down to Calcutta to see the C.I.D. police chief, and was able to go and meet her himself. We met later in the swimming bath, in which I spent almost the whole morning, with intervals of sitting under one of the umbrellas on the sun-bathing roof. I stayed to lunch at the Saturday Club with Walter Jenkins and another man, and in the afternoon went out to Cossipore. We had intended to fly, but the weather looked so stormy, with strong wind, and thunder-clouds and lightening working up from the South-east, that we decided that it would be wiser to stay on the ground. Idris says that four of the squirrels come in to the dining-room and sit on the table at meal times, and the one we used to call “Mouldy Tail” now lets him stroke its back and tickle its ears. The only drawback to its friendliness is that it often puts its tail in to his marmalade! Idris wanted me to stay to dinner and go to a cinema with him, but I was firm about getting home to dinner here, and left him about a quarter to seven. Herbert had been doing marvels at pruning dead wood and thinning out two great bourgainvillias, which make an arch over the gate down to our landing stage. He has been working at them evening after evening, and has got his hands full of thorns, which I am extremely stupid about getting out.
We have been useing the drawing-room for some days now. I am satisfied with its appearance, though there is always the drawback in hot weather that chairs and tables have to be clumpped under the fans. There are two great windows on the east, and three more round the apsidal southern end of the room, and standing in the middle of the floor, from four of the five windows one can see just tree tops and river. The drawing-room is, as is so commonly the case in India, on the first floor. The winds have been so high lately that to hang curtains is out of the question, and lamps and flower vases have to be placed with caution, or designed to be of such weight that they will not blow over. The mosquitoes have almost disappeared, thank goodness! If you have never lived in a country tyrannised over by these little brutes, you can scarcely realize the joy it is to be free of them.
Yesterday I had a present of half a dozen large white magnolia buds, lovely slim things amongst their shining leaves. To-day they have opened into those wonderful waxy water-lily-like blossoms, which scent the whole room. As an individual, I don’t think any flower can give me more pleasure than a magnolia. Its sad to think that these will be gone to-morrow. How extravagant Nature is with her beauty!
Its a wonderful thought that I shall be with you all so soon, but how I wish it did not entail leaving Herbert along in this great house.
My best love to all of you
LJT
P.S. In case anyone is thinking of writing to me, the mail leaving London on Sun May 8th, should reach me here on Wed 11th, the day before I leave, and letters from London posted on Wed 11th, should reach me in Bombay on Saturday 14th. The Viceroy of India does not call at Aden, and I cant at the moment tell you what day we are expected to be at Port Said, for we are doing an express voyage. We are due in Marseilles on the 24th.
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
April 28th
My darling Annette,
When I get letters from you and Richard, telling of all the fun and the doings that occupy your leisure at Highways, I thank Providence anew for Uncle and Aunt. It would be impossible to have the same circle of friends, the same comfortable feeling of “Home” that you obviously have, had you to spend holidays with different relatives, or in some professional “home from Home”. Of course you do your part too. You are both friendly creatures, it seems to me, and willing to go and meet people, and pull your weight in any fun or talk that is going on. (Sorry! I am being worried by my type-writer ribbon. It is worn out, or at least the bottome edge is frayed and catches up every now and again, and so distracts me)
Poor Dad is in the depths of despair to-day. He still clings to the hope that he will be able to save something out of the wreck of his schemes. Every few days something happens to wittle away this hope, and yesterday a letter came from the new Secretary of the Local Self-Government Dept, a Schtchman who has replaced an Indian, making it clear that he does not in the least grasp the import of Dad’s work, and is quite happily setting out to stimie the last chances of getting things done. Apparantly Dad lay awake for hours last night, and he looks completely exhausted this morning, and is as touchy as a dangerous bomb, and as liable to explode at any moment. I am absolutely helpless. Nothing I can say will comfort or soothe him. Nothing I can suggest to do will distract him. Spiritually and intellectually he has risked all his eggs in one very rickty basket, and has been going through the slow torture of seeing them smashed one by one. He has cut out games, social doings (as far as he has been able) reading of anything but detective novels, with which it is impossible to keep him supplied here, - - discussions abut any of the things in which most of us are interested, such as the situation in Europe, - - socialism, economics, almost anything you like, and is left with nothing but his work, which seems to be crumbling round him, and blank boredom. Its really very tragic, and I am most deeply distressed about him, but I am not going to give up coming to England because he is in the state. I have tried for years to help him out of the slough of Despond in which he seems fated to wallow. At times I have thought that my efforts have met with some success, but the apparant improvement never lasts. If psychologists knew a great deal more than they do now, I think they might be able to find the key that would loose him from what I really believe are inhibitions. it is just possible that not having me as an audience, he may go a little more to meet the other people in the station, and have to give his interest to other things.
Forgive me for pouring out all this trouble to you. I had no intention of doing so when I started, but my mind is so full of it, that its difficult to think of other things. Dont let it opress you in any way. So far Dad cannot say that his children have added to his troubles, for you have all worked and behaved in a most satisfactory way. If I judge you right, you have all plenty of common sense and balance, and there is every likelyhood that you will arrange your lives in a reasonable and useful way. Dad has passed on to you an immeasurably valuable heritage of brain power. His temperamental misfortunes are not such as are inheritable, I think. With him I feel sure that by inheritance he had a temperament that was capable of great enjoyment and happiness, but that there was something in his early upbringing that warped and crippled it. It has happened in some degree to all that family, showing least in HD and Uncle G. Each one according to their inherited character, would react differently to circumstances, and be affected in a greater or lesser degree by them. I am afraid I am becoming very psychological and I had better perhaps, turn my mind off on to some more cheerful subject.
The other thing, of course, that keeps on hovering at the back of my mind, is my home-coming. Only two more weeks now till I leave and only four till I see you all! What are good trains down to Oxford? I should think I had better come down by one during the afternoon. I could perhaps have lunch with Uncle Bous in the City on my way from Highways. I feel a little bit mean to be looking forward to coming home so much, when Dad has to stay out here, but I cant deny that I am looking forward to it enormously.
Best love, my daughter
From
Mum
From LJT to Romey
Chinsurah, Bengal
April 28, 1938
My darling Rosemary,
It’s odd that your letter last week should have been typed, for I had just been wondering and saying to Dad, that it was about time you took to a typewriter, judging by the rest of the family. Your letter was a very creditable effort, and I recommend you to continue. If you can have the persistence and strength of mind to learn to type blind, it is a great advantage. I don’t, and that is why I so often make mistakes.
I think you did quite well to get 60% for a general knowledge exam of the sort you describe, and to come out about 4th in the form. Congratulations on getting your 2nd Class Gym Button too. You are evidently establishing yourself in the school, and have got over the rather uncomfortable beginning time, before you have made your own niches. The ability to make those “niches” in any walk of life that it pleases Providence to call you is a most valuable one. I wanted you to have some experience of it, young as you are, and that was one of the several reasons for changing your school.
The idea that I have only two weeks left before I leave Calcutta and not much over four till I see you, so excites me, that I have been almost inclined to adopt the school-girl trick of marking off the days on a calendar!
Now and again here, I so miss my horse. Sometimes there is no tennis, and at this time of year there is really not much work for me to do in the garden, so that I feel a longing to get out. Walking is very difficult, for there is nowhere to walk. I took Miss Westwater, the Scottish Missionary, a little way up beyond Bandal Church in the car the other evening, and we find that there is quite a nice wildish walk along the riverbank there. She had her tiny Australian terrier with her, and he enjoyed it no end. We are going again one day soon. She says that the Indians are very interested in the small dog. Most of them have never seen one like it before, and now and again she has overheard people say that it must be a jackal “Batcha” that the Miss Sahib has got.
Lately I have been feeling sympathetic with you over maths, for in “Science Today”, I have been trying to read the section called “Mathematics, Quantity and Order”, and also another section on“Causality”, and I find myself completely bewildered. It is, of course, that I have forgotten the first steps, which writers of such books, take it for granted will be at the fingertips of any reasonably educated person. What I have got from the scientific reading generally, and from struggling with these sections is a much clearer vision, that mathematics is, in a way, a more advanced form of speech. It has been invented to express thoughts and to convey facts, which would be incomputable in words. The great Newton, who was one of the greatest mathematicians who has ever lived, did not like Mathematics. He only used it as a tool to discover and explain matters pertaining to his scientific work. Now I want to go back and learn, for I want to read about the things that can only be expressed mathematically.
Best love, darling
Your Mother