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The Townend Family Letters

Correspondence from the 1930s - 1940s between members of the Townend family
HPV + LJT Letters 1939 to 1941

1939 May

Family letter from LJT

Chinsurah
Bengal
May 4th 1939

My dears,

Although it is the height of the hot weather, and according to the novels, I ought to be finding the long hot days intolerably empty, and time hanging heavy on my hands, while I eat my heart out for my absent children, the actual facts are totally different. I am so busy that I have a list of things waiting to be done, and have to be firm with myself about going to lie down for three quarters of an hour before tea, because getting up at 6 a.m., I find I get tired by dinner-time, if I don’t.

As regards heat, Bengal is having a spell of the hottest weather there has been for many years, and the country is crying for rain. Even Darjeeling is so dry, that it is faced with a serious water shortage, and water is rationed. If no rain comes within a week, baths will have to be stopped. Here, on the banks of the Hoogley, we can never be short of water in that sense, but since Herbert’s irrigation scheme is not in being over most of the country, the fields have no moisture, and the sowing of rice cannot take place. These matters would probably occupy large parts of the daily newspapers, were there not such a press of news from Europe, and such masses of stuff to do with the Congress and Subash Bose’s resignation. There have been columns and columns about it every day, but I hear the half of the rows and scenes and undisciplined behaviour have not been published. From the point of view of the country it must be a good thing that Subash Bose has resigned. He is an extreme Leftist, and has always encouraged the anarchists. It was the more moderate elements in the Congress, the men with whom one can sympathize, who were afraid of what sort of a state he would bring the Congress into. It will be interesting to see what happens now. I know nothing about Dr Rajendra Prasad. Harry says he believes he is quite a decent fellow. Its astonishing how much power Ghandi holds, even when he professes to keep out of things. It seems that his influence has been at the back of all this.

One has not heard so much during the past week about people cancelling their passages for home leave, and so on. The feeling of immediate crisis has quieted a little. One looks eagerly and anxiously at the paper each morning, but the edge of anxiety has got a little dulled with use.

Herbert had to attend an A.R.P. meeting in Calcutta at 4 o’clock last Friday, so we left here after lunch, and I did a little Himalayan Club work and shopping, while he was busy, and then we met, and went to the 6 o’clock show of “Pygmalion”. I had seen it the previous week, but throughly enjoyed seeing it again, and Herbert enjoyed it too. One gets out of the cinema a little late, so we did not arrange dinner with anyone, but went and had a grill at the Saturday Club, where of course we met a lot of friends.

It seemed hot weather to have a dinner-party, so, since I had a party on Saturday night, I decided to have short drinks out on the lawn before dinner, and let my guests choose whether they would prefer to go back there again afterwards. It is heavenly in the garden after about 6.30. The strong breeze, so strong that it should be called a wind blows right up the river and so is cooled before it hits us. The moon was almost full on Saturday, so it was a perfect setting, and we did not need artificial lights. So arranged, the heat did not worry us at all. The wind blows right into the dining room too, and it, with its marble floor, keeps wonderfully cool even during the day. We were a party of twelve, including the French people from Chandanagore, the young Dutch consul, who is living also at Chandanagore, and the doctor and his wife from the Angus Mills. Barring the new Indian S.P our guests were all good talkers. Mr Bannerjee is an interesting man, and his wife is very pleasant, and quite easy to talk to. In fact I think that possible the dullest people there were Major and Mrs Wright Nevill. He is doing special Military Intelligence work here, and seems to me an odd choice for the job, as he apparantly has one of those single-track military minds, which one would not have thought would have been able to find out much about what is going on in the districts. Our guests chose to go back to the garden after dinner, and sat and talked or wandered about by the light of the moon, so it was not at all an exhausting party.

Herbert had to be down in Calcutta again on Tuesday, this time for a commissioner’s meeting. The ministers have conceived the idea that district officers are unfair to Mohammadens, and don’t understand them, and called in all five Commissioners to tell them about it! The fact of the matter is that the Mohammaden cabinet are ousting ever possible Hindu, however capable, and putting in a Mussalman, whoever incapable, (which here in Bengal they usually are. They cant compare with the good class Hindu in brains, manners or education for a moment) The meeting was at 11 A.M. but the Ministers took so long over their sermons, that they had not finished or given the Commissioners an opportunity of stating their side of the case by 1 PM. They therefore summoned everyone to attend again at 5.45, when question time in the Council, which is now sitting, would be over. Rex Fawcus who was in from Dacca lunched with us, and later in the afternoon we went to the Saturday Club for a swim, and then to tea with Winsome. While Herbert was at his meeting, Reggie Cooke and I had two solid hours discussion about Himalayan Club affairs. It was a grand opportunity to talk over a lot of ideas, for as a rule we meet with several people, and for a limited time. Herbert did not get back to the Saturday Club till past eight o’clock, and we then went off to have dinner with Rex Fawcus at the Bristol Hotel, where Herbert, though tired, was in good form, and made us laugh a great deal. After the mornings’ meeting, when I asked him what all the Commissioners had been saying, he replied that they were all “as quiet as sucking mice” listening to what the Ministers had to say. From his account of the evening meeting, it seemed to me that the roles had been reversed and that the Ministers must have played the part of the “sucking mice”. Somehow when we began to make more exact pictures of the similie in our minds, we became quite weak with laughter. Where Herbert got the expression from I don’t know. He seemed surprised to find that it was not a commonplace one.

Arthur Dash who is Commissioner of Darjeeling - - Jalpaiguri, has invited us to spend a few days with him after our visit to Government House. Herbert says he cannot spare the time, but I have accepted for a few days.

One of our chief excitements is the huge success of our latest brews of humus. They seem to be just the thing. Herbert takes any guests who drop in of an evening, to look at the good stuff. The malis feel quite proud too. A couple of small boys looking over the fence, enquired of Herbert yesterday what he was doing, and then asked if they might come in to see, so they had a lecture on the subject of the value of Humus making.

I wonder whether any of you remember our tales of a strange Hungarian who made a voyage on the same boat with us some few years ago, and who later turned up in Calcutta. A man we took to be a professional musician, and who turned out to be a novelist and film scenario writer, Ludwig von Wohl by name? Percy Brown spotted a review of this man’s auto-biography in English translation. (He has lived all his life in Germany and writes in German) Very kindly P.B. ordered the book to be sent to me, and its an amusing work. It is called “I follow my stars” and von Wohl has been slightly Frenchified into Louis de Wohl. he, by the way, is a keen believer in astrology. His account of Calcutta telescopes Herbert and myself into one personality, and that a male one.

Best love to you all
LJT


From LJT to Annette

Chinsurah
May 4th 1939.

My darling Annette,

I am rapidly sinking into a lethergy! Its 3 p.m. Its very hot. Everything is quiet, except the punkah whirring overhead. Most of the neighbourhood is sleeping. It makes one feel like sleep oneself. Being in this sort of state of mind, and not having a letter from you to answer, I don’t know what to write about. I am reading and thinking much in books of Indian philosophy. I would like to read more, but feel other more pressing duties. As one of my books says “Service to one’s fellows is a religious obligation. To repudiate it is impiety”. My service largely takes the form of work for the Himalayan Club, but I hope it is useful work of a sort. It does help people to find the very good way of “escape” which I suppose we all need in some form or other from time to time, in order to carry on satisfactorily with our daily life.

Is’nt it amusing that I have got von Wohl’s autobiography? Such a lot of what is in it he told me either during the voyage or when he was in Calcutta, and its fun to find it again between the covers of a book. What a card the man is! I’d rather like to meet him again.

Hope work goes well.

Best love
Mother


Family letter from LJT

Chinsurah
May 9th 1939

My Dears,

I am writing early this week, for we go to Darjeeling to-morrow, and I don’t intend to take my typewriter up there, nor if the weather is fine shall I want to spend more time than can be helped indoors, for the few days in the Hills will be so precious. Herbert cannot stay on after the 16th, but I am going to stay on with Arthur Dash till the 23rd. This wont be a long letter I can see, for I have had about a dozen interruptions already. Mrs Wright Nevill has been in to ask me if I will go and see her small five year-old daughter, whom she sent up to stay with people in Darjeeling last week. The mali has come to get money for lime for the cannas, which he is to replant while I am away. The Sweeper has chosen this moment to ask me to write to the wife of the Civil Surgeon in Burdwan, whose Sweeper borrowed money from him in the Autumn, and has not paid it back, and takes no notice of letters . . . and so on, - - just a multiplicity of little things, that in the aggregate take up so much of a house-wife’s time, and which most men find it hard to take into consideration. There is generally some woman who shoulders those sort of cares even if she is only the boarding-house keeper!

The heat wave has broken I am glad to say. Calcutta temperatures were up at 108°, which is very hot for this part of the world, combined with Bengal’s humidity. On Friday the themometre began to drop, and clouds blew up from the South. Winds were strong and cool. Storms threatened on Saturday, and the later part of the day was quite cool, though the heavy black clouds blew over we got no rain. Sunday was cool too and in the evening we had a grand storm. Walter Jenkins was staying here for the week-end, and he and I went in the car as far as Bandal Church after tea (Leaving Herbert to play with his humus, of which we are making a large new brew). We planned to walk along the river bank from Bandal, which is about the only pleasant country walk about here. It looked threatening, but we decided to go a short way, anyhow. By the time we had gone say half a mile, and were just opposite the old deserted Circuit House, it looked as if the storm were going to break so we made our way through the under growth, and took refuge in the old empty house. From the top verandah, looking over the river, we watched the wind sweep from the North-West, whipping the palm trees and the Casuarinas, till it looked as if they must crack from their deep bowings. The river looked black, and the tall grass on the island in the middle of it was laid flat by the wind. We waited for the rain, but only a few heavy drops came, so after a while we decided to risk the rain and walk back to the car. The wind was still terrific, and I was glad that we only had a few yards to go under the tall trees, before gaining the open river bank, not only for fear of falling branches, but also because magnificent lightening was playing all over the sky. It began to rain a little just before we reached the car, but the real downpour did not come till much later. We had to take a diversion on the way home for a tree was down across the road, and in our own compound a lot of big branches had been blown off the trees. It was just dusk, and we found the electric light was off. In company with Herbert, we went out into the garden to see if there were any branches across the wires in our own domain, but we drew a blank, and for an hour or so the household functioned by the light of one petrol lantern, but which time the electric Company’s mistri had found the damage and repaired it. Why, I wonder, do I describe a simple storm at such length? I suppose it is because after weeks of intense heat, it gives one such enormous pleasure.

The Jenkins are suffering as all the Calcutta Secretariat are, from the Ministers being unable to make up their minds whether they want to be in Darjeeling or not. Many people went up about ten days ago, and then the Ministers decided they would not go yet, so the Secretaries and Heads of Departments have had to come down again. Herbert and Walter agree that the real reason is that the Mohammaden Ministry in Bengal is so insecure, that they dare not leave Calcutta for long, in case their supporters are “got at” by their opponants. Intrigue of every sort is rife, and if they are on the spot, they feel they can meet intrigue by intrigue (and do) If they are in Darjeeling they do not know what is happening behind their backs. Its a sad muddle, and a dreadful example of public good being sacrificed to Communal Politics. Its really appaling the rate at which Communal feeling and riots have grown since Home Rule came in. One has become almost accustomed to seeing Headlines in the paper such as “Communal Riot” Six Killed Eighty Injured” Those were about the numbers involved at Gaya yesterday, and seemingly it all started in a quarrel between two boys. To-day Patiala and Meerut have been rioting, though oweing to the intervention of the police, not on such a large scale. Of course it was always prophecied, and as firmly denied by the Indian reformers who on both religions, declared that once the British influence was removed, the Mohammaden lion and the Hindu lamb, would lie down happily side by side. How bitterly wrong experience is proving them to be!

We had some extremely interesting talks with Walter Jenkins. He is an able man who thinks deeply, and who has the good on India and the ideals of his own country very much at heart. It is a great pleasure to get him apart from his wife, for she has a habit of criticising and contradicting everything he says, with the result that in her presence, he very rarely talks!

We still wait anxiously for the news paper every morning. It is hard to guess what is going on behind all the political manoeuvres. One has the impression that Hitler is a little less uppish, but whether that makes him much less dangerous, who knows?

There is not much more to write about. When we have eagerly scanned the news from Europe, we turn with a somewhat belated interest to what is happening in the Indian Congress world. On the surface everyone says and is credited with doing such noble things and holding such splendid sentiments, but from the things one hears privately, intrigue is just as rife within the Congress as without it. Ghandi seems and claims to be straightforward, but he has a devilish Oriental cunning about him, which I don’t believe all his Saint-hood can shake off.

Whether you will get a letter next week I don’t know. It depends how much the Hills tempt me out, and whether I can borrow a typewriter!

Meantime, my love to you all
LJT


From LJT to Annette

Government House,
Darjeeling.
May 10th 1939

My darling Annette

There seemed so many things to attend to the last few days in Calcutta, that I thought I would leave your letter till I came up here – Its odd how – if one is only going away for a fortnight, there always develop all kinds of things that ought to be done “before one goes” – whereas I am sure many of the said things would drift along quite happily without being attended to for weeks, if one just stayed at home.

Its marvellous to feel cold fresh air and fun to be back in Darjeeling again after 2 ½ years – There were a huge crowd of porters to meet me, rather, I think, to the embarrasment of Capt Gore Langton, an enormously tall young guardsman who, in his capacity of A.D.C. was sent down to meet us. The warmth of the greetings exchanged with my somewhat ragged and dirty friends was not evidently what he expected.

The rooms here are lovely – We have a suite of bed room, dressing room, two large white tiled bathrooms and a sort of alcove part of the bed-room got up as a nice little sitting-room – and the big bow-end of the room looks right out to the snows – Lebong is below from the right hand window and the Takvar spur, where Lovey once lived on the left. E.B. Jones got into our train sometime during the night, having come across from Dacca and we recognised each other when we put towzled heads out of the train at Jalpaiguri – looking for the early cup of tea – He drove up with us and we left all the servants and luggage to come by bus – Neither he nor Dad were sick – which is rather a triumph – We neglected breakfast at Siliguri and had it instead at Pliva’s in Kurseong which was much nicer.

I wonder what memories mention of all these places brings to you – It must seem like looking back into a totally different existance. The water famine which was threatening Darjeeling as lately as a week ago, has been prevented by a series of storms! The snows were showing up quite well from Kurseong, but clouds have hidden them now.

Aunt has sent a collection of jolly snap shots of you and Romey and Richard – The one of you and Romey sitting to-gether on the boat, is worth enlarging I think. I shall examine it with a magnifying glass and if I still think it worthy of making larger, I will get aunt to have one done.

Poor Aunt seems worried about the possibility that Gavin may still be holding his pacifist views so strongly that he would refuse to serve if called up. She did not, in the letter I had a few days ago, seem to have heard that university students are not to be called up till after they have done their finals – Even if they have not matured already Gav’s view may have modified very considerably by then.

I seem to be hearing so many tales of fading enthusiasm for Hitler and his later doings among the German people – Its impossible to know whether they are true or how much individual incidents can be taken to mean anything. One does have a feeling, though, that there must be some foundation for such a crop of stories.

Let me know when you are finishing this term – I wonder what your plans for the Summer are – Your original notion of Vienna or somewhere in its neighbourhood, will, I suppose, be so difficult.

Best love
Mother


Family letter from LJT

11 Monteagle Villas
Darjeeling
May 17th 1939

My dears

I am writing this on a borrowed typewriter, which is so dirty, poor darling, that it will scarcely move, so I shall have a beautiful excuse for bad typing!

The week we have spent in Darjeeling has been extremely pleasant and most useful to us both. Herbert has been able to do the final polishing off of the Forest Report with Mr Simmons, and I have been able to do a lot of work with the man up here who is the paid agent of the Himalayan Club. I have really stayed up longer than Herbert in order to do a little more Himalayan Club work.

We left Government House yesterday afternoon, Herbert to return to Chinsurah and I moved to this house, which Arthur Dash has most kindly put at my disposal, though he himself, ahd to go away on tour. The freedom of being alone, and the space to spread out papers, and the fact that it is a convenient spot for me to see the porters, all make it most convenient for me. Staying in Government House, was much pleasanter than I anticipated. Its a delightful house. Our bedroom had a splendid view of the Snows. We could see them from our beds, and I lay and gazed at them with infinite pleasure about 5.15 yesterday morning. The Staff are all very nice and attentive, and visitors have a great deal of freedom. Breakfast goes on from 8.30 till 9.30, and a book is brought to one in which one signs whether one is going to be in or out for meals. One of the A.D.Cs enquires whether one would like to take part in any of the various engagements in which their Exes/ are involved, or whether one wants a rickshaw, pony or anything, the-n (Sorry about all these hyphens coming in the wrong places. This is a very tiny machine, and only has three available spaces after the bel-l has rung, so I keep on getting caught at the end of the line) - -: then one is free to do what one likes. Their Exes do not appear at breakfast. The house-party this week was almost a family one, that is to say they were all police or I.C.S. from Bengal. I was the only lad-y till the last day. There was a big dinner party on Thursday, the day we arrived, at which we met a great many old friends. On Friday I went to the opening of a Hindu Temple, which has been built in Darjeel-ing by the Maharaja of Nepal, as a place of worship, and a centre for Nepalis living in Darjeeling. The opening ceremony was performed by the son of the Maharaja, a General with a good round dozen of names and titles. he was wearing the famous “Three lakh Topi” in other words the splendid head-dress of emeralds, pearls and diamonds, which is always such a centre of interest when one of the Nepal Royal family comes to one of the State Balls in Calcutta. The head-dress is not exactly pretty or becoming, but the sheer extravagant worth of it take-s away ones breath. It is a sort of cap made of ropes and bands of good sized pearls. It has a fringe of emeralds the size of good-sized acorns, each held by a little cup of pearls. I counted thirteen on the side next to me. A few more big emeralds are scattered about amongst the knots and ropes of pearls. In front a diamond plaque about three and a hal-f inches in diameter, holds a huge Bird of Paradise plume, which swee-ps back and falls well below the wearers’ shoulder blades. Unfortunately this Prince of Nepal is a short stout little man, with rather podgy features and large glasses, so he does not show the head-dress of-f to the best advantage. In the way of clothes he was wearing the arm-y uniform, which the Nepalese took and modelled so long ago from Briti-ish fasions. We were all seated under a shamiana in the court of the temple. There were long speeches both in English and in Nepalese. This I expected, but was willing to put up with it for the sake of seeing various people whom I thought would be there. This expectation was fulfilled more completely than I had expected, for not only were all the Darjeeling notables there, but Raja and Rani Tobgay Dorji, the Bhutanese people from Kalimpong, and Rai Bahadur Norbhu, who is n-ow British Trade Agent at Yatung in Tibet, and whom I knew well when he was Personal Assistant to the Political Officer in Sikkim. There was also the excellent Punjabi State Engineer from Sikkim, whom I am always pleased to meet because I like him personally, and also because I then get the latest news of all the roads in Sikkim. The proceedings were somewhat spoilt by a heavy thunder-storm which deluged rain upon us about half way through the proceedings. Only the elite were under the shamiana, and that soon began to leak a bit, but the crowd put up its umbrellas and did not seem greatly to mind. Most of us decided to remain in the comparative shelter of the Shamiana when the moment came for the actual opening of the temple, and the interval before the return of the little General-Prince, was well occuppied with exchanging talk with these various friends. i parted from the G.H.party after the show and went off to tea with the Judge and his wife, of whom I am very fond.

I forgot to mention that when we arrived from Calcutta one of the A.D.Cs, a tall and good-looking young guardsman was waiting to meet us at the spot beyond which cars are not allowed to go, and he seemed a little startled when a mob of porters surged forward to greet me and I was surrounded by a crowd of ragged old friends! I spent the whole of Sunday morning with our Agent, Mr Wale and the porters. I am so pleased to see engaging creatures again.

Herbert and I both went to the Races at Lebong on Saturday afternoon, and rather enjoyed it for again it was an opportunity to meet so many old friends. it was an unusually busy day for Herbert from the social point of view for after the Races we went to a cocktail party given by the Cameronians, who are stationed at Lebong, and after dinner we went to see an Amature Theatrical show, which was rather good. Its comfortable going about with the “royal party”. Conveyances are provided. The best places are reserved. police keep back the crowd and all such mundane matters and tickets or entrance badge are looked after by the A.D.Cs. We all went to the 6 o’clock Picture show on Sunday, which luckily happened to be the Mikado, and which I did not see when it was in Calcutta. i enjoyed it, but I don’t think its good Drama has been sacrificed to the urge to spend as much time and money as possible on scenic effects.

The weather unfortunately for us, but fortunately for the District broke on Sunday, and we have had a lot of rain ever since, so that it has not been tempting to do much in the way of walking or riding. We had some lovely views of the snows the first two or three mornings, but otherwise they have been wrapped in mist.

There are masses of letters waiting to be written, and a little later I have to walk up to Jalapaher to lunch with my old friend Agnes Majumdar, and in the afternoon I am going with another Indian friend Dr Law to see a famous orchid garden. I am glad to say that so far, the day is fine.

I return home on Monday, getting to Chinsurah on Tuesday.

Best love to you all
LJT


From LJT to Annette

Government House,
Darjeeling.
18.5.39

Darling Annette

There’s practically no time for a personal letter. I have had a string of Porters and some of the old old Sirdars seeing me and nearly all the morning has gone.

Thank you for taking Romey out – Its a great comfort to me that she gets some outings when I am so far away – I expect you remember to “bill” Aunt for the expenses, don’t you?

The photos taken on the boat arrived last week – I think I did mention them – The Janvrins – Lovey and Mrs Majumdar and Tara have all been so interested to see them!

I’ll try to write a better letter next week –

Thanks for sending off the book – I told the Confidential Clerk not to send on any books so I expect it will be waiting for me when I get back.

Best love
Mother

PS I did’nt steal this paper intentionally, but slipped a few sheets into a writing pad, intending to write a few letters while my hair was being set and dried on Monday – failed to write and have just found the sheets! It seems a pity not to use them

Family letter from HPV (carbon, ‘Annette’ hand written in ink)

Chinsurah,
May 19th 1939.

My dear Annette

I wish that someone would tell me what Rosemary used to call that imaginary family of her’s. Were they called Woodles? I ask this because I found myself on the verge of addressing you as Dear Woodles. Which would have been absurd.

I am well aware that this is only my third letter since Christmas. However I have in a way finished the Forest Report; not finished with it ---- alas! ---- for there is yet to be faced the task of inducing members to sign it; but I have sent it to the Press and for some days I am free from it. So maybe I shall write letters more regularly again, or maybe not. I have the typewriter on a low stool in front of me, thus increasing its natural difficulties; but it beats me how I manage when trying to go fast to get two letters into one space.

Today I have made a speech to a Conference; on the irrigation scheme which is a sense ready. But they have made a muck of it. Speech making is a tiring thing. One has to put as much as possible into 15 minutes and yet make it perfectly simple; and as at least half of my audience today did not know English, this was difficult. But the writing of the speech (for I wrote it although I did not repeat what I had written) made me realize that the forest-committee work has destroyed my chances of getting this scheme through. Especially when there is so much accumulated work to be got through before I can turn to propaganda for the scheme. I have lost the bus; not merely missed.

The visit to Darjeeling was marred by the knowledge that all the work was waiting to be done; and by the fear of feeling or being terribly sick in the car going up or down. Going up I felt bad; but coming down I came near to the disgrace of open sickness. It is sad indeed to have a queezy stomach. This place was debilitating to return to, hot (just over 100) and damp; I hadn’t minded it before going to Darjeeling, and perhaps it had not been so bad. There had been no rain for weeks and the place is / or was / parched; for it rained suddenly this evening just a little. The thunderstorms on which the cultivators rely for getting their lands ploughed have almost failed us this year.

The various humus heaps and pits are a solace. Three heaps; two pits. But one pit may count as two. We seem to have got the knack of it now. Intense heat and an agreeable profusion of fungus growth, which looks like sprinkled wood-ashes. The mali at government house in Darjeeling was loud in praise of “compost” as he preferred to call it and has certainly got good results in the garden there, using about six times as much as I did here last year. He has revived my interest and my hopes.

These cat-shaped animals that Winsome has wished on us have discovered and much annoyed the squirrels. I was neutral of course, but annoyed too. A crow has taken to banging on the window-panes like those three mad birds. I expect vultures next. The panes barely stand up to the crow’s assaults. The blue jay almost lives in our manure heap; I spent most of last hot weather there myself, but I didn’t pick insects out of it with my beak. As that jay does; I do not approve of it. Squirrels do much the same.

Sunday May 21st. 1939.

It is a sad thing that I should have made a muss of the carbons and so reproduced one copy of this on the back of another. I might ask one of you to send it on to another with a looking glass: I might scrap the whole sheet: instead, to avoid any allegations of undue favour such as Annette brought up against me about the lace-cake, I shall draw lots to decide which two shall have the pleasure of receiving the copies of that pessimistic introduction to this, I hope, more cheerful finish. But it is wrong to call pessimistic remarks which a good-cheer itself compared with what I feel about things at the moment. Not that it makes any odds to the things or to me really for serenity returns when the weariness wears off.

Of course I worked this morning (though I did not get much done) but I also walked round the garden. My comments on the muck-raking of squirrels were justified. I came on one scratching about in a manure heap --- the mali has now made several of these in different parts of the compound --- and out of benevolence stood very still till my neck ached; and a total of four, a family perhaps because two looked new, played around busily for quite a time. What happiness we give to many beasts without knowing it! The whole place is a sort of sanctuary compared with places outside it. The mosquitoes and other such things have a first-class time in the breeding cistern which we constructed for watering the garden. The bereaved crow and the other three bereaved birds find a solace in the ghosts which they see in the window panes. The two kittens (for they are kittens that Winsome sent though without charm) find various drains and chairs agreeable. And although all the insects which are smothered in the process of making humus may be peeved a bit, on the whole this may be regarded as a sort of Eden. Which reminds me: what is an Eden hat like besides being black? Is it a political badge: and is he really if all were known the prune that he looks in his pictures? When I make typing mistakes and double ks and such I feel glad that I am not a Norseman and bound to do it by profession.

At Darjeeling in my old age I started two lines of talk which I think need not be classed as yet as gramophone records. The first was when Janvrin introducing me to the Archbishop (R.C.) of Calcutta suggested that I might be careful what I said: and I developed that Gilbert Chesterton idea that a priest knows more of sin than anyone else and cannot be shocked, having not only his own to go on but also those confessed to him. And the second was the phantasy that the Bengalis and their country are not the last thing God made but a hangover from before the creation; which can be proved very well if one merely rattles on about them.

The boredom of doing routine files to excess when one is heavily in arrears is beyond expression. When things are not so bad, I break off every now and then and do some agreeable researches into paddy-harvests and rainfall and such, though it leads to nix; but just now this would be immoral. And how much more really immoral it looks when written like that!

No more. After all this is the worst sort of letter, written merely as a proof that you are not forgotten. Bless you.

Much love
Dad


From LJT to Annette

Chinsurah
Bengal
May 25th 1939

My darling Annette,

What a busy family we seem to be. I don’t think Highways often hears the cry “What can I do next?” except perhaps from little John. Its amusing that you have all taken to public responsibilities of some sort, though Rosemary’s games secretaryship is only in the sphere of the school. I have an inclination to run things, but Dad, outside his work, seems to have none. He never serves on any committee or is secretary of anything. I throw out one word of caution, which probably is not needed in anyway, since you are a well balanced young woman. Professor Crewe told me that the reason his son came a cropper in his exams at Edinburgh University was, he thought, partly because he had always been good at running clubs and societies, and liked doing it, and had drifted into giving so much of his time to that sort of thing, that he neglected his work. Professor Crewe, by the way, has just been made a F.R.S. I’ve been meaning to write and congratulate him, but somehow have’nt got it done.

Its difficult to imagine Pilgrim’s Progress made into a play, but well done, I should imagine it could make a first class film. Dad, of course enjoyed the evil thoughts about the four ladies who welcomed Christian! Have you seen the Marco Polo film? I thought the trailer looked pretty awful, but I had to take Mrs Tufnell Barrett to something last Sunday evening, and there was no choice. My memories of Marco Polo’s doings were not very clear, but I remembered enough to be sure that the film contained little of him but his name. Curiosity moved me to get out the “Travels” from the Library, and my impression is quite true. The Khubla Khan of the film was rather a dithering old gent, with an only daughter who was his heiress (One is led to suppose that he was a sorrowing widower) Actually he had four legitimate wives, each of whom ranked as an Empress, and had her own court, and he had 22 legitimate sons. One hundred concubines were appointed each year to attend upon him as well, and the extent of his family by this secondery means seems to have been uncounted! His eldest son pre-deceased him and he was succeeded by his grandson, Chengis Khan, presumably the Ghengis Khan, who rushed with fire and slaughter through India. - - - but I don’t know why I should write to you about the history of these ancient emperors, except that like you, I still felt quite annoyed the next morning!

I am glad that Dickey will take, or rather, - - has taken – Romey out on Ascension day. I spent Ascension Day at Rungneet and in the Botanical Gardens, Darjeeling.

Ada Villa has been reopened as a hotel. It has all been done up, refurnished and partly rebuilt, and seems very nice. I had tea there with Mrs Tufnell Barrett, and everywhere I looked were memories, many of them comic, of you children. I looked with interest at the place where Richard and Andrew Rodick had such faith that the crane made for them by Dad would be strong enough for them to haul you, a very solid small girl seated in an upturned morah, up the steep khud-side, a matter of some 20 feet, and how you with a faith no less sublime, sat in the morak, waiting to be hauled.

The Janvrin children are charming kids, quite natural and very quick and amusing. Lovey to them is “Darling”, so I say that when she goes to Heaven she will have to have one wing with Lovey on it and one with Darling. Jeanette is remarkably pretty, with curly red-god hair, brown eyes and immense long curled up lashes. Pauline is at first sight a little plain, with straight fair hair, and almost white lashes, but she has brains and character, and a great knack of turning out little poems, though she is only six and a half. Here is one that I thought rather charming and wrote down; -
“A lovely noise, a rustling of wings,
God was talking to all the things
When in the window, white and clear,
Came an Angel with golden hair.
Her eyes were blue and her dress was white.
She knelt and prayed for us all the night.”

It shows quite a remarkable feeling for rythm, don’t you think? and its only one of many just as good.

This is not a very interesting letter I am afraid. Forgive!
Best love
Mother

P.S. Thanks for the book and Hair nets safely received


Family letter from LJT

Chinsurah
Bengal
May 25th 1939

My Dears,

There are many pleasures in returning home, even when it means, as it did in my case on Monday, a return to somewhat excessive heat. The season has changed during the thirteen days that I have been away. It was the HOT WEATHER then. Now the RAINS are approaching, if indeed they are not already here. The skies are overcast. Strong, gusty winds are blowing from the south. Every day some rain falls. The thermometre readings are some ten degrees lower, but the humidity is high, so that one perspires constantly unless one is sitting under a fan, or right in the breeze.

Now is the time for great doings in the garden. At the moment we are re-planting and rearranging the cannas. I brought three new sorts from Calcutta and I am bartering some of mine with local friends, who have varities that I do not possess. The mali thinks I am being fussy because I want colours specially placed, and because I want clumps in the long border distributed at regular intervals. There’s a tremendous programme of work to be carried out. I have a number of flowering shrubs coming up from the Botanical Gardens, as soon as the Monsoon breaks in real earnest, and I have to prepare the places for them. Our three large scarlet bourgainvillias seem to have stopped flowering at last (They have been hard at it since I came out at the beginning of November) so Herbert can now engage on the nice prickly job of pruning them back severely.

The remainder of my visit to Darjeeling was both pleasant and profitable. Lunch and an hour or so’s talk with my old friend Agnes Majumdar, was very enjoyable and interesting. She said, what so many of my friends say, in answer to a query as to why they do not go in for Politics, but leave it all to people of indifferent class and character, and that is that it is impossible for anyone with decent feelings and ideals to stand for election since it is impossible to get elected without widespread bribery, and without making masses of promises which you know it will be impossible to carry out.

I went not at all to the Gymkhana Club, but took various meals with various friends in their houses. Miss Pearce spent an afternoon and evening with me. We had tea at home, and then went to that ridiculous picture “Alf’s Button Afloat” and had some supper afterwards at the only good Restaurant in Darjeeling. I spent an enjoyable evening with Dr Law scrambling about a steep hill-side garden belonging to another Bengali gentleman who has wonderful collections of orchids, and has lately become interested in trying to acclimatize the primulas, rhododendrons, mechanopsis and other plants from the higher altitudes, to the Darjeeling climate. He is doing much more in that way, and in a much more scientific way than the Darjeeling Botanical Gardens. Another morning I went up to Dr Law’s house which was about half an hour’s walk from where I was staying, to see some different irises which he has brought in from the higher hills, where I have so often seen the plants, but never seen them in flower. It was a fine morning and I enjoyed the walk, and looking at the garden, and also at some of Dr Law’s splendid birds – He keeps certain birds from the high mountains, which do not do well in Calcutta, at his Darjeeling house. He has some supurb monal pheasants, whose peacock-like plumage looks as if it had been fashioned by some super-worker in metals. He also has the lovely copper-coloured tragopan pheasants, who, like the monals, inhabit the Himalayas from about 13,000 to 15,000 feet. Dr Law is the man (Bengali) who has the marvellous avairies near Calcutta. On my way back, I passed the house of the late Sir Jagadesh Bose, the famous scientist, who claimed to be able to register the heart-beats of plants and so on, and who was the first and I think, only Indian to be made a F.R.S. Lady Bose was out in her garden and called me in, and I must have spent about an hour talking with her. She is a woman of whom I am very fond, and I know no one who gives one a greater sense of calm and peace than she does. We talked of politics, both Indian and European, and of the movement towards a world religion. She and her husband were enthusiastic supporters of the Brahmo Samaj, the movement to which Bengal owes so much of the best of its culture, or so it seems to me.

One day I had lunch and tea with the Judge’s wife, at their charming house a few miles out of Darjeeling. We spent a happy time looking at her lovely garden before lunch, and in the afternoon we paid a visit to the Botanical Gardens. Mrs Jameson’s sweet peas are so magnificent, that I am detirmined to follow the directions, and reduce mine to a single stem on each plant, and to cut off all the tendrils. Far from having less blossoms than on a plant that has been allowed to go its own sweet way, she had more, and of such splendid quality.

You probably remember a Tibetan policeman, Ledan La, by name, whom I have known ever since I first went to Darjeeling. He died a year or two ago, but his family are still there, and I went to tea with his eldest daughter, Mary, who was married some years ago, and who now has five children of her own. The three elder ones go to English schools and are intelligent and good mannered. The two girls go to the convent and Mary says they sometimes say to her “Why at school do we light candles to Our Lady, and at home we light butter-lamps for our Lord Buddha?” Its not very easy, Mary says to explain to little ladies of seven and eight, that the two methods are different paths to the same goal –

I spent a lot of time going through the Porters’s registers, and interviewing the men, and I spent some entertaining hours trying to collect information about some of the early climbers in Sikkim and about how the Sherpas, who make the finest climbing porters, and who come from some remote villages in the north of Nepal first came to Darjeeling. I did collect quite a lot of information, and found one old man, Wangdi Tenzing, who reckons his age at 69, most amusing and helpful. He has a wallet stuffed with “chits” from people, including one from Sir Francis Younghusband for the Lahasa Expedition of 1901. Old Wangdi is most dramatic and acted all his stories in a way that its difficult to reproduce. One way and another my six days stay in an empty house was anything but dull, especially as there were quantities of interesting books, in which I browsed in leisure moments.

The journey to Calcutta was comfortable and quite cool, for there had been heavy rain. I had breakfast with Harry and Winsome, and found them and Charlotte looking remarkably well. The day in Calcutta seemed unpleasantly warm and damp, but I think the first couple of days after one come out of the cool air are always trying. I suppose ones unfortunate body, had to re-adjust the colling apparatus, which in the Hills had been used as a heating system. By a gret stroke of luck Frank Kingdon Ward came into the Himalayan Club office while I was there. He had arrived from Burmah a day or two before, and was off to England that evening. He had written to me in Chinsurah to say how sorry he was to miss me, having heard that I was in Darjeeling. Luckily I had finished my work, at least anything that had to be done that day, so I took him down to his bank, and we were able to talk in the car, and while he was getting his money, I rang up Edward Groth, with whom I was lunching, and asked him if I might take Frank along. This is not quite as pushing as it sounds, for Edward Groth adores travelling and travellers, and also always has lost more food than the ordinary mortal can eat. He was delighted at the prospect of meeting Frank, especially as he has been out for several months past with two Americans, collecting botanical and Natural History specimens for the New York Museum. Frank and I spent about three-quarters of an hour to-gether at the U.S. Club drinking shandy and talking hard, and then we had a delightful lunch, after which I bade farewell and set off home.- Paper running out, so good-bye and best love
LJT (Sorry about this. The top sheet was alright – I don’t know what happened underneath)