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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 October

From LJT to Rosemary

The Club, Darjeeling
Oct 1st , 1939

My Darling Romey,

You are going to get a very scratchy letter this week, for friends arrived from Kurseong, half way between here and Siliguri, just as I was in the middle of my mail. I enjoyed getting your letter, and thank you for it. Now that the Germans seem to be starting Air Raids, I am rather glad you are in Oxford instead of Essex. So far guns and planes seem to have protected England pretty successfully. Let’s hope they will go on being able to do so.
We are going to have charge of one of the dachshund ladies for the next few weeks. I am hoping that she will teach Maxie not to be frightened in the train, for her master says she is an excellent traveller.
I enjoyed having a nice long ride on Sunday. It’s nice to be on a horse of sorts again, even if it is only one of the rough hill ponies. Must stop, much love,

Mother

From LJT to Annette

The Club
Darjeeling
Oct 3rd 1939

My darling Annette,

There is a chance that this may reach you somewhere about the date of your birthday, so we send you our loving wishes for many happy returns of the day. How I hope that we shall be at peace again by the time you come of age next year, and that Dad and I will be home. You will have got my cheque in time to buy yourself a present I trust.

Its a goodish time since a letter came from you, so I have not much “text” to write about. I’ve started one of the books I brought out last year, and which I have not read before, because I always seemed to have books on loan. It is Whitehead’s “Adventures of ideas”. and it seems to have a bearing on the present situation, which makes it easier to concentrate on it. I have never read any of Professor Whitehead’s books before, but I have always found quotations from his writings, arresting.

In a way I think I am pleased that Dicky is going into the Fleet Air Arm. It is a good deal more risky than the Infantry, I suppose, but it must be infinitely more interesting, and so much more individual. Thank goodness there are still some weeks while he is training, during which anything may happen in this strange war of politics and propagander. The next few days with the meeting of the Reichstag may bring astonishing developments, I suppose, or may just be a repetition of one of Hitler’s orations, bearing little relation to reality.

In a few minutes I must go to take Dad out for a stroll. He is surprisingly weak, much more so than I had realized, and can only walk a short way. He wants to walk this morning before meeting some friends for coffee at Pliva’s (The scene of the famous tea-party given to you and Rosemary by a young man in the Imperial Tobacco Co from which you returned saying that you had had a lovely time, “two of everything” - - this included sausage rolls and ice-cream - )

Forgive a silly and short letter
Best love
Mother


Family letter from LJT

The Club
Darjeeling
Oct 3rd 1939

My Dears,

Each week, with news of some new and strange treaty or pact, makes the war more and more like a ghastly confused nightmare. I wonder whether to you, who are so much nearer to it all, it also bears a strange quality of unreality. All the same it has the power to make anything else seem trivial. The news of the Russian trade pact with Germany which was announced last Friday, I heard over the wireless at 4.30 p-m- just as I was starting off for a farewell tea-party given by the hospital staff to Capt Lossing who was leaving Chinsurah two days later. I chatted to the various Indian doctors and the matron and others with only about a quarter of my conscious mind on what I was doing. Once more, from the bald announcement, it seemed that Russia might immediately be coming into the war. The later news bulletins were more comforting. Yesterday’s post brought the letter from Richard saying that, if he passes the medical test, he will be going into the Fleet Air Arm. I sympathize with him. However risky, I am sure I would rather do that than be in the Infantry.

There was a good deal of mild amusement to be had from the practice A.R.P. warning on Thursday. Many of the servants to whom we had endeavoured to explain what it was all about, came running when the syrens started, and asked whether they should bring the cows indoors. Later we heard the following tit-bits. 1) That in the Zennanas the following day, the women said “It will be alright now. Our Commissioner (that is Herbert) has defeated and imprisoned the enemy plane”. This was actually said to one of the Scotch Missionaries. 2) the mali of the Old Dutch Church had been instructed to be on the spot at 11 a.m. the time of the supposed raid, and to start ringing the church bell directly he heard the syrens at the mills. When the time came, old Miss Babineau heard nothing from the church, and sent one of her servants across to see what was happening. He found the mali shutting all the shutters and locking the door. Having done all this he started to ring the bell, and went on and on. Miss B sent servants again to tell him to stop, but he apparantly could not hear their shouts or knocking above the din he was making. At last a police orderley succeeded in making himself heard. When the mali was going off duty in the evening, he went to Miss B and asked for the Church Key. When asked why he wanted it, he said he had been told to ring the church bell at 11 a.m. and 11 p.m. each day till further orders. Hundreds and hundreds of coolies have moved off from the mills to their homes up country, leaving some concerns terribly short handed. At one mill the rumour was going round that the European staff were all going off by launch to Calcutta during the previous night, leaving the poor Indians to their fate - - for most of them thought it was really enemy planes that were coming - - They therefore left first! I cant help thinking that in places like Jute Mills where they have their labour under control, so to speak, that the accounts of what was going to happen must have been inadequately explained to them. From Calcutta we heard that one old old Indian lady, who had never been out in the open in her life decided to make a supreme effort and go up on the roof to see these enemy planes. Having struggled up there, all she was was one R.A.F. bomber flying at some 15,000 ft. She was bitterly disappointed, saying that she had not made that effort to see a thing not much bigger than a bird, and that showed no signs of flight, and she retired to her quarters, where she hopes to remain undisturbed for the rest of her life. Another story was a great deal more tragic. A clerk or servant in one of the big business offices, ran up to the high roof, to see what was going to take place. Gazing into the sky, he took a few steps backwards, and crashed over the edge of the roof into the street below. Undoubtedly there are difficulties about the A.R.P. propagander and practice in India.

The last few days before we came away were hot and sticky – real Sept weather, so it was a relief to get away from the “steaming plains”. We left Chinsurah after tea, and had dinner with Idris Matthews at Cossipore on the way in. For days I had been telling Maxie what a treat he was going to have, for I thought that all dogs enjoyed train travel. To Swanker it was even more heavenly than going in a car. Maxie is not at all of that opinion! He was really terrified, poor little chap. He lay on the seat with his mouth wide open, panting while great drops fell off the end of his tongue. This happens when he is very hot, but once we had left Sealdah Station, I don’t think he can have been hot enough to explain this, and I really think it was a form of nerves. We did everything we could to soothe him, but nothing was of any use, and I really believe the poor monster did not sleep all night! However he quickly recovered his spirits when we got out of the train in the morning, and enjoyed the drive up the Hill. It was more than poor Herbert did! He always hates mountain roads in a car and I think being as run down as he is, made him feel worse than usual. He began to look pale very soon, and I thought he would not last out the section to the half-way town of Kurseong, where we have breakfast. Luckily he just did, and the rest and food made him better, though he was feeling pretty bad again by the time we got to Darjeeling. It was fine by the time we got to Kurseong, though it had been raining earlier, and we had glimplses of the Snows and a supurb view of Kangchenjunga just before we got to our journey’s end. Herbert lay down on his bed - - (it was then a little past ten o’clock) and stayed there till lunch time. The sleep and rest put new heart into him, but he is very weak, and will have to go slow for a few days. Unfortunately it began to rain on Sunday night and poured down the whole of yesterday, so that our only outing was to take a rickshaw and go to see “Stagecoach” between tea and dinner. We did not think much of it, but it was, at any rate, a distraction for Herbert. To-day the weather has cleared and we went a little walk this morning and another this afternoon.

Darjeeling seems much its familiar self. It takes us a long time to get along the street for all the porters keep on coming up to greet us. I have to hold a great meeting of them presently, and tell them whom we are promoting to be first class porters or “Tigers”.

Maxie has found two enchanting little lady friends here, both are red dachs, one not much more than a pup, but simply overjoyed with Max, and the other more mature, and nearer his own size, who is a born flirt. Max is willing enough to play up to her, and they have tremendous games together.

I do hope the weather is going to be good now, for it will make all the difference to Herbert’s recovery if we have plenty of sunshine. There are nice places to sit on the terrace in front of this club, when the weather permits, and the sun here is beautifully warm. It is much easier and more health giving to idle out of doors in the sunshine, than in a rather uninspiring room.

I am a little disappointed to find there are no First Aid classes going on up here which I can attend, but I can rub up my knowledge on my own and use the bearer, who has not much work to do up here, as a model to bandage.

Best love to you all
LJT


Family letter from LJT

The Club
Darjeeling
Oct 10th 1939

My Dears,

The dates of the last few days have brought back many memories of last year, when I spent my last week-end in England from the 8th to the 10th Oct. at Oxford to celebrate Richard’s birthday. It seems a long while ago! We are having the same beautiful weather now as we had in Darjeeling twenty-two years ago when Richard was born up here. It is making a big difference to Herbert. Directly the sun comes out up here, he begins to feel better. He has made fairly rapid progress during the last few days, and went quite a long walk on Sunday, and a good ride yesterday. He even ventured on going to an evening film last night. It was a special show in support of the Hospital Charities. The main film was “So This Is London” with Robertson Hare in it, and Herbert thought he would like to be made to laugh. Unfortunately there was a very boreing and seemingly interminable first half to the programme, with the result that most of us were tired out and longing for our beds before the real film began. It was disasterous for Herbert, for when we finally got home about 12.30 he could not go to sleep, so he is very tired this morning.

Calcutta - - no! I mean Darjeeling is packed now. The Police Conference started yesterday and the Commissioner’s Conference started to-day, so lots of old friends have arrived, and its fun meeting them all, and hearing the news. One or two are men who came back from leave in England in this huge convoy which brought the two thousand (or was it three?) back from home. One friend of mine was describing the voyage. He says it was the biggest convoy that has ever travelled. It totalled over a million tons of shipping. They had an escort of three cruisers and I think he said fourteen destroyers. On several occasions they saw German submarines, two of which were sunk. The voyage was terribly trying for the people who were on some of the North American liners, which had been designed to keep out draughts, and preserve warmth. That, plus the black-out regulations (They were not allowed to smoke on deck after dark) made life difficult. For the moment there is a problem about where to put all the men who have returned unexpectedly, but I suppose it will smooth itself out in time.

For us the past week has been one of holiday-making. We have been out for walks and rides, sat about under the big coloured umbrellas on the terrace drinking coffee or tea and gossiping with other holiday-making people, and done little that could be classed as work. I have had moments of activity about Himalayan Club porters, and spent a long time yesterday evening, with the local Hon: Sec: paying the compensation to the widows of the three men who were killed on the American attempt to climb K2.

I think mixing with many of his old friends and having plenty of congenial people to talk to is perhaps almost as much of a tonic to Herbert as the cool air. He has not had nearly enough variety of company in Chinsurah for the last two months or so.

My friend Helen Martin, with whom I did the treks in 1936 arrived up a few days ago. She is staying with the Commissioner, Arthur Dash, and the three of us took our lunch and went for a lovely long tramp on Sunday. It was grand to be walking again, and Helen is always such good company. Many of us gather to listen to the wireless news at intervals during the day. What an odd sort of hush there seems to be now waiting to see what will happen next.

We have been rich in letters from the family this week. We read them with an almost greedy pleasure. That is not to say that we are not sorry for the many things that have to be put up with in England now, but personal news seems to take on an added value.

Really there does not seem to be much more news to give you, so I think I shall stop.

Best love to you all
LJT


From LJT to Annette

The Club
Darjeeling
Oct 11th 1939

My darling Annette,

Dad and I could not help laughing at your account of the arguments about Britain’s spotless record etc etc. We can so clearly vizulize Uncle’s wrath. I am surprised at the attitude taken up by Uncle Harry, unless indeed the younger members have been carrying the method of giving credit to the enemy to an excessive extent, which Dad certainly was doing at the beginning of the war, till I felt I could not bear it. He seemed always willing to believe that we were lying and Germany was in the right, or had really got the better of our planes or ships or something, and that none of the reports we received were true, till I felt I could not bear it! Its bad enough that we are at war. Why wallow in depression? And why not enjoy such good news as seems reasonably reliable? In trying to be fair and impartial I suppose it is easy to slip over the edge into over-justifying the other side. Up to a point I agree that its foolish and worse to refuse to see ones own faults and to dwell constantly on those of one’s enemy, but at the same time in ones personal relations, one does not go round drawing attention to the faults and weaknesses of ones relations, and I don’t see why one should do it about ones country. I cant understand Uncle Harry’s attitude at all, nor do I agree with it. It may be good politics of the old type, but I think we have to try to get beyond that attitude, and as you say, when it comes to fundamentals, recognise and aknowledge the truth however difficult it may be. To be told that you are too young to know what you are talking about is, of course, most annoying, and in no way helpful in an argument. I am sorry that this state of affairs has arisen and hope that the debt we owe to Uncle and Aunt for their unfailing kindness to us, will help you to be tolerant and try not to annoy them. Once back at Oxford you will be able to let off steam. There is another thing. Its only wise of the people in authority during a war or any struggle, to present the best and most hopeful aspect of affairs to the people at large. Hope and confidence play such a large part in keeping up the morals of a nation. There are such a large number of people even amongst the so called educated classes who have developed no ability to think for themselves, and it seems better to allow them a straightforward ideal (which I do believe exists in this war) and not confuse them with a number of arguments pro and con, out of which they might fasten on quite the wrong bits to cling on to. I should have thought that the simple fact that Britain has always objected to a great dominent power in Europe would have been obvious to anyone who had read even the mildest amount of History, and there is no doubt this policy is still functioning, but don’t you think it has taken on a new tone and content? Surely there are a tremendous number of people now who are getting beyond wishing for national dominion and wish to work for a world state? For once we seem to be fighting a war, not for territorial agrandisment but in the hope of establishing the right to freedom of individual peoples and in the hope of preparing the world for some sort of world federation of states?

The paper is drawing to an end, and I have scarcely mentioned your personal affairs. I am glad you were able to find a congenial bit of war work to do before you were due to go back to Oxford. Picking apples must be quite a satisfactory thing, for you see the result of your work in such a concrete and delightful form.

Romey is asking advice about what subjects to take at school. Since it seems unlikely that she will take up a scholastic career, I think its best to cover a fairly general range of subjects, don’t you? I most certainly don’t want her to drop French. She seems rather keen to begin German, and if she feels keen, it would probably be a good thing to encourage her to do it, for she will probably work well at it. I am going to talk it over with Walter Jenkins after breakfast. Not only is he a specialist in education, but I think he has a good deal of wisdom and common sense.

Best love, my dear from
Mother


Family letter from LJT

The Club

Darjeeling

October 17th ‘39

My Dears,

The news of the attempted Air Raid on the ships in the Forth, reached us last night.  It is news like that that brings home to one with a bang the realization that the War is really going on and is not just a thing of news, broadcasts and treaties.  Helen Martin, who was with me when we heard the news, suffered a spasm of keen personal anxiety, for all her five children are in Edinburgh.

In spite of the war, there are a good many parties of one sort or another going on up here.  None of the big balls are being held, but the weekly Saturday evening dances are going on at the Gymkhana Club, and people are having the usual sort of luncheon and dinner-parties.  I suppose its almost inevitable at holiday-making time, as this is in Darjeeling, for the people gathered to-gether from all over the Province , want to meet and talk and entertain one another a little.  Sir Nazimuddin, one of the Ministers gave a huge luncheon party of about a hundred and twenty people at the Gymkhana Club last Wednesday.  I sat between two of the Indian ministers.  Luckily neither of them was difficult to talk to.  On Thursday we went to a very large cocktail-party, which had all the merits that a cocktail-party can have.  There was plenty of room, and chairs to sit upon, and nearly everyone there, knew everyone else.  We came away soon after eight o’clock, but lots of people stayed on till 9.30!  It seems to me rather much to keep up a cocktail party till that hour, and hard on ones host’s pocket!  A third big party last week was the garden party at Government House, for which we luckily had a fine afternoon.  I enjoyed it and liked meeting a lot of the local Sikkimese gentry, whom other wise one does not often come across.  However, I fear that it may have been there that Herbert picked up a chill.  He was not feeling so well on Saturday and his tummy was out of order.  He renounced coming for a riding picnic on Sunday, and stayed quietly at home, but as he was still feeling out of sorts on Monday, I advised him to see the doctor.  Major Fitch says he does not think it can be a return of the dysentery, but that it probably is just a chill, and has told Herbert to keep warm, take things very easy, and live on light milky diet for a couple of days.  It is a great nuisance, for it will put him back.  One can only hope that he will recover quickly.

We had a delightful picnic on Sunday.  We sent a porter with our lunch to a Forest bungalow about nine miles away, and five of us rode there on little hill ponies, and returned by a delightful forest path which led us up over a shoulder of Tiger Hill.  We got home at 5 o’clock, and just had time for a cup of tea and a change, before going to see the 5.45 performance of “Three Smart Girls Grow Up”.  We had seen it before in Calcutta, and I did not really think it worth seeing again, but Herbert feld he would like to get out and be amused.  After dinner, I listened in to the 9.30 news, keeping awake with difficulty, for I had not got to bed till 2.30 a.m. the previous night, and had woken about 6 o’clock as usual, and ridden about twenty miles.  Walter Jenkins and I made a little party for the dance on Saturday, which included Winsome’s friend, now Mrs Davies, but till lately Rose Temple, and her bride-groom.  I had seen their wedding in the paper on Wednesday and the fact that they were spending their honey-moon in Darjeeling, and I had intended to find out where they were, and ask them in to see us, when T.B. Jameson, turned up here with them, and sent salaams up to me to come down and meet them.  He is an old friend of Mr Davies’, Mr Davies being an I.C.S. man from Bihar.  Rose is looking so pretty, and everyone is charmed with her.  She gave us a most interesting account of their voyage out on the Strathmore.  They came without a convoy, trusting to their own speed.  Their only real excitement was on the second or theird evening out when, about 9 p.m. they passed within about three hundred yards of a German submarine.  The boats were steaming in opposite directions, and passed one another in a flash.  Immediately the Strathmore put on full speed, and changed her course, and they heard nothing more.

Maxie is having a great time with his girl friends, two brown dachsies, and one very small Australian terrier.  I was terribly amused the other morning.  I had gone upstairs to change before going out to lunch, and I heard a great deal of puffing and blowing and general bustle in the little sitting-room, which is in front of the bedroom, with a window between them.  I peeped through to see what was happening. Max had brought his three friends in and they were having a “biscuit-Party”.  They were all eating dog-biscuit like mad, and the room seemed to be full of waving tails, and biting jaws, and biscuit crumbs flying in all directions.  The joke is that the owners of the other dogs all say that their dogs wont touch dog-biscuit!

Herbert’s conference finished yesterday, and he has nine days of holiday before him now.  I do hope he will soon be well enough to enjoy it.  I rather think he is feeling a bit better this morning.

A good many people are starting off on treks this morning.  Its a lovely day for it.  At 11 o’clock, the Snows are still showing above the bank of fluffy white clouds nestling on their feet.  In some ways I should like to be going off myself, but I dont think I could bear to be away from all news for ten days at this time.  We are planning a day out on Sunday.  I do hope Herbert will be well enough to join the party.

When I wrote last week, I don’t think I had had the telegram from Ronald Kaulback saying that he hopes to pass through Calcutta “about 23rd on way crack up Hitler”.  Unfortunately if he gets along as quickly as that, we shall not be back.  I have arranged with Mr Dalmahoy, with whom Ron stayed once before, to look after him, if he arrives to time.  I confess I am rather hoping that he will be a bit delayed so that we shall be home before he arrives.

This is a most demoralizing place as far as work is concerned.  I have got through very little of what I had meant to do here.  There is a tendency for people to call up to ones room, where one may have just settled down to write, and say “So-and-so is here.  Come down and have a drink.  They want to see you”.  Well!  Its nice to revive old friend ships, and probably much more worth while than anything I write.

I am now begining to be excited about seeing my garden again.  I hope the seedlings have not damped off.  That is always the danger of sowing early in the autumn.

There does not seem much more news to give you.  You don’t want to hear that we have had lunch with this person and tea with that other, so I think I will stop.

Best love to you all

LJT


From LJT to Annette

The Club
Darjeeling
October 18th 1939

My darling Annette,

Aunt’s birthday to-day, and your very soon. I hope you are able to celebrate it pleasantly, in spite of War conditions, and I do hope that times will be happier by the date of your Coming-of Age next year, and that we shall be at home to arrange some revels for you.

Your last letter written just after you had stopped apple-picking, gave some pleasant and typical little pictures of life at Highways as I know it, yet with the twist given to it by War Conditions. I can hear Dicky crying “Stop the work! Stop the work!) ‘(Sorry I hit all the wrong keys there) as the rain came and he wished to stop felling the tree.

I am very very glad that you are going back to Oxford. I wonder whether Gavin will be allowed to stay on working there. I hope he will. All the same he has the brains and adaptability to make a good place for himself whatever happens, I feel sure. Brains are too valuable a commodity not to find a market provided they are combined with some practical ability, and reasonable stability of character.

From the wireless last night and this morning, it looks as if the A.R.P are going to be taxed to the full now, with Germany starting raids and reconnaisance flights. The news of the attempt on the ships in the Forth came through the evening before last, and full details yesterday, as well as news of attempted raids on Scarpa Flow and reconnaisance flights along the East Coast. I’m glad poor old Mokes has been moved out of the way, though its sad that she should be so uncontrolled as to need it. This morning we have heard the good news that turkey is standing firm, and the situation with regard to Finland seems rather better. It looks rather as if Russia is not going to push her demands beyond what she can get without fighting, and as if things are not going just the way that Hitler wants and planned. One can only hope that Germany’s collapse will come soon, before too much damage has been done, and too much bitterness engendered.

There are so many people in the Club now, and so much small entertaining going on, that I find little time for reading, but I am enjoying Professor Whitehead’s “Adventures of Ideas” in small doses. By accident it happens to be a good follow-on for Fosdick’s book on “How to understand the Bible” (That is not the exact title) The latter deals with the growth of ideas in religion, especially the Jewish-Christian tradition, and the effect of those ideas on peoples. Whitehead deals with a large canvas, both historically and philosophically. He deals in a sense with all ideas, especially the three countries which he considers the direct ancestors of modern thought, namely Eghpt, Greece and Palestine (or Semitic thought). He deals in greater detail with the Green than with the others, and much of it with which I suppose I should have been familiar had I done classics, comes as news to me. Reading of this sort is of some use to us, I feel, for after all it is out of ideas that a new world will have to be wraught, and the more people there are, capable of understanding wide and great issues, the more chance there will be of making lasting and just arrangements.

I am sorry to find that one of my old friends who is up here just now Rex Fawcus, has become difficult to talk to, and he used to be one of the people with whom one could discuss all sorts of things with enjoyment and profit. He seems to be suffering from a hardening of ideas. (Perhaps it goes with hardening of the arteries!) To begin with he has developed a sort of challenging manner. He makes a statement with a sort of truculent attitude, as much as to say “I dare you to disagree with that”. and its difficult to talk with him, without becoming a little acrimonious, which, for me, spoils all the pleasure of talk. I hope I shall not grow like that. its difficult to put ones finger on the exact difference between an attitude such as Rex adopts, and, for instance, Walter Jenkins. Walter has certain ideas and beliefs about which he is very sure, but he is never truculent about them, or unwilling to discuss other people’s points of view.

This seems to finish my allotted space for your letter, for if I go down further over the main typing, both sides will become difficult to read.

Best love
Mother

Handwritten letter from HPV to Annette

Darjeeling
Oct 18th 1939

My dear Annette

I did not write you a birthday letter. Not for want of saying some weeks ago that I must write soon. But my own woes drove it from my mind. The idea that a month in the hills would set me up after the dysentery has proved a flop. The first week had results, though they were less definite than I hoped: the second went far to undo the results of the first. Chill perhaps. Anyhow a reversion to tummy trouble and a new visit to the doctor. Another anti dysentery course and a day confined to my room. There is no dodging draughts in Darjeeling, whether one stays in one room or in many.

News scant. Commissioners’ conference: very much the same as last year’s, except that it didn’t seem worth while arguing in favour of all that had failed to find acceptance last year. Not much friction: what there was drew sparks from me only, I think.

I went a ride round Birch Hill, a walk round Birch Hill (on Sunday before last) and a ride to the Pines (this side of Ghoom) and back over Katapabar. Also Ihave met various people in the streets, had coffee twice at Pleeva’s, been to a lunch with Sir Nazimuddin (over 80 people) and to a garden party at Government House (where perhaps I got the chill if it was a chill), and talked to sundry folk at the Club here. Ah! I forgot the movies. There have been three experiments of this kind. A cowboy film “The Stage-coach”, a Josephine film “Royal Divorce”, and “Three Smart Girls Grown-up” which we had seen before. The second of these threw me into the dumps, because it is a grief to me when people seek to mislead the public. It so happened that I had read two lives of Josephine (and three of Mussolini, not that these are relevant) in Chinsurah just before we came up: and it annoyed me much to see how for the dramatic and unusual the film makers had substituted the stale and the flat. For instance in the film Josephine’s name is called out when the list of those to be guillotined is read out: actually she learnt that she was for it when a warden took her bed away and replied when she protested, that she wouldn’t be wanting a bed that night. And so on. A film starting thus was bound to go wrong later: and why I should make a grievance of it I cannot tell.

I went a walk on this last Sunday round the Mall. Taking Maxie. The walk consisted of standing every twenty yards and calling to that dog. Half the walk was such: for after that I drove him in front of me like a pig. Which is absurd for me and humiliating for him. Ada Villa, now again a boarding house, has been smartened up. The wide passage in the Barracks (now called “the Annexe”) has been cut down to narrowness by having glass screened hutches (?sitting rooms) in front of each room; the Cottage has been rebuilt as a dining room; the old dining room has been made into a lounge and the old drawing room also; and the stairs of the main building have been shifted into the porch. The greatest improvement is a wholesale cutting of trees and a letting in of light. ------ But I wonder if you remember enough about the place to make this either intelligible or interesting.

The strange thing about the Conference was that Ministers did not seem to think the war likely to interfere in any way with their schemes. Yet it must sooner or later affect finances seriously.

My dear, how dull all this is! “Can’t thank God for ?perdams?.” – to wit, can’t think on slops. Yesterday like the vomit-dog I returned to milk diet: plus boiled egg for breakfast and breat and butter: milk as in idiomatic includes soup.

Did you have a happy birthday? I hope so. And did your Aunt Grace? It is her birthday today: bless her.

Much love
Dad


From LJT to Annette

The Club
Darjeeling
Oct 23rd

My Darling Annette,

We drank your health yesterday (I did’nt mean to cross out that r) in company with several friends, many of whom had known you as a small girl. Also we thought of you and drank your health in tea about 1.45 a.m. at a dance on Saturday night. That was actually very near to the time that you were born. As far as I remember it was about 2.30 or 3 a.m. that the event took place. I hope all our wishes will prosper you!

It was bad of me to write to you so scimply last week, but it is difficult when people come in to see one especially if they are old friends that one has not seen for some time, to turn them away, saying that there are letters to finish. Thank you for a letter received from you to-day, written the day before you were going back to Oxford. Yours, Aunt’s and Richard’s to-gether, made a good picture of Highways life. How queer and empty the house will seem with only Aunt and Uncle and Richard in it. Richard mentioned the arguments with Uncle too. Its odd that he cant see other points of view a little more. I am still more surprised that Unvle Harry cannot, for he has always seemed to me liberal minded. All of us, I imagine, have certain subjects on which we are unable to see anyone else’s attitude. Probably those are the very ones that we fail to recognise in ourselves. I can pick out some in Dad, but I dont know which are my own. Christian Science and any for of Spiritualism are two things which send Dad into a blind sort of rage. Words are perfectly useless to combat it. I know the feeling that you experienced when attempting to discuss politics in Germany last year. I had a small example of it the other day with a woman here, who said glibly that of course Anina Brandt must be a spy. She had only met Anina casually at one or two parties and really knows nothing about her, but to any facts I produced in Anina’s defence, she merely looked infinitely cunning and said “Ah! But that’s where she is so clever. If she were’nt she would not be a spy”. I merely dropped the subject and said that personally I did not think that one should accuse people without having any evidence against them. I saw that discussion was out of the question.

The dogs have just finished their dinners, and, as usual rushed in to say “Thank-you” and wipe remnents of dinner off their mouths on my hands skirt or stockings, if possible. Its quite an energetic job fobbing them off.

What a pity it is that John has become babyish again under Nannie’s influence. You will laugh when I tell you that her fussiness extended to Maxie. I cant tell you all the things that were to be done to him, medicines to be given, - different menus on different days of the week and so on. Winsome told me privately just to treat him as I thought best, and he does well on it. Incidently the tripe hounds are persecuting me at the moment. They are full of spirits after their dinner, and have an idea of making me play with them. They usually succeed in putting it across Dad about this time but he is out at the cinema, seeing “Irene and Vernon Castle” for the second time. I was having my hair permed and could not go with him. I think I mentioned last week that Maxie has one of his girl friends staying with him for a few weeks. Harking back to the subject of Nan, I cant help thinking that Winsome will make a great mistake in bringing her back to India to look after Charlotte and Teach her, which is what she said she was going to do. Nan is a nice enough little person, but by no means an educated woman. As far as I have seen her teaching it amounts to little beyond sewing coloured wools into ready prepared cards, and things of that type, and very simple reading and writing. One cant argue with Winsome though!

So you thought my judgement of “The Four Feathers” hard. Perhaps I was not in a good mood, but I certainly was not impressed with the acting, and did not feel moved by any sort of emotion from beginning to end, for not for a moment did I get the illusion that what was going on on the screen bore any relation to real life. Now, at “Mr Chips” I felt heart rent and weepy at itmes, and pleasantly tickled at others. I am sure that I prefer a pennyworth of good acting to £1,000 worth of scenic effects.

Best love
Mother

Family letter from LJT

The Club

Darjeeling

Oct 24th 1939

My Dears,

Our visit to Darjeeling draws to-wards its end.  Herbert is well again, and able to lead a normal life.  I have enjoyed the month up here, and feel much refreshed by the cool air and plenty of exercise, but I shall not be sorry to get home on some ways, chiefly to see the garden.  I hear there has been a lot of heavy rain in Calcutta, which I greatly fear may mean that many of my seedlings may have damped off.  We have had rather cloudy weather here for the last few days, and to-day it is pouring with rain.  Its disappointing because we had a nice outing planned.  We were going to walk to Ghoom Monastery, about 4 ½ miles away, and be shown over it by my old friend Mary Tenduf La, who, before her marriage was Mary Ledan La, and her husband.  After seeing the monastery we were taking a picnic lunch a little further on to a forest-covered hill-side, and those who felt energetic were going to walk home, and other return by car.  Now the plan is reduced to going out and back by car.  Its so far lucky that our party of twelve have still something to do, and after all seeing the monastery was the real object of the outing, as several people here had never seen a Buddhist Monastery.

Walter Jenkins and I had tea with the Tenduf Las last Thursday.  Herbert was supposed to have come, but had not sufficiently recovered from his cold and chill.  I always enjoy a visit to Mary and her family.  She has four most engaging children, and is herself, a dear little person.  On Thursday they showed us some really beautiful colour films after tea.  One was of the arrival of Lord Brabourn in Darjeeling; another of Lama Dances at Ghoom Monastery; and the third of New Year’s Day picnics on Observatory Hill.  These hill people when they are dressed in their best brocades and jewels, make perfect subjects for colour photography.  Walter and I thought these films some of the best colour studies we had every seen.  We enjoyed them so much, that the Tenduf Las asked whether we would not go again one evening this week, so that Herbert could see them, and it is fixed for this evening.  I wish I had such films to show to you when I come home.  The Tenduf Las are an attractive family.  Mary herself, is charming to look at, and a delightful character, always happy and serene.  Her four children take after her.  The elder two are girls, aged about 7 and 9, then comes a boy of 6 and finally another little girl.  The older children go to school at the convent here and speak excellent English.  They are clever young things.  The elder one, whose real name is Sonum, but who calls herself Joan, aims at becoming a doctor and the younger one says she is going to be a teacher.  Their mother says that already she teaches the younger children, and any of the servants who are will to learn little poems.  It is interesting to wonder whether these children will attain the object for which they are now hoping.

Although not rainy till to-day, the weather has been disappointingly cloudy the last few days.  We have had some nice walks, and a picnic on Sunday.  Herbert and three others drove out about six miles in a car, and then walked to Lepcha Jagat Forest bungalow, some four miles along a charming woodland path.  Walter Jenkins and I rode all the way, catching up the others on their walk and eventually passing them.  The two dachshunds were allowed to accompany the party and had a great time.  (I did tell you that one of Maxie’s lady friends is staying with us for a week or two, did’nt I?)  From being a perfect morning with wonderful views of the snows, it clouded later, and we had little sun, so that it seemed too chilly to picnic out of doors, and we ate our lunch in the big bow window alcove of the bungalow.  Walter and I decided to return home by a slightly longer route, and the caretaker of the bungalow directed us down the wrong path, so that we went miles out of our way, and did not get home till past 7 o’clock, when we should have been in between 5.30 and 6 o’clock.  The only drawbacks were that our ponies got very tired, for we covered 25 miles during the day, and the poor little beasts were not very fresh when we got them in the morning.  This meant that we could not press them beyond a walk, and indeed, walked and led them for a good part of the homeward journey.  The last four miles from the village of Ghoom we were lighted on our way by the moon, and grateful for it.  Without that illumination, it would have been a tiresome walk.

25.10.39  I had to break off yesterday to go off to Ghoom Monastery.  In spite of the fact that we had to go there and back by car, the party considered the visit well worth while.  We were altogether a party of twelve most of whom had never seen a monastery before.  Rose Davies (Temple) and her husband came, and were most enthusiastic.  The whole Tenduf La family were there to greet us and take us round.  The Head Lama and some of his lesser bretheren were there too, but they only speak Tibetan, and the Tenduf La translated for us.  At the end the Head Lama blessed us all and gave each of us a complimentary scarf (kata).  Mary and her husband asked several of the party to see their films in the evening, Rose and her husband amongst them, and gave us a delightful party.  They showed us not only the coloured films, but several reels taken in Lhasa many years ago by Mary’s Father, which, I think, must be the first film taken in Lhasa.  Mary said he had to be careful to keep his camera as much hidden as possible as in those days the people were suspicious of being photographed.  The colour films of Lama dances and of New Year celebrations with country dances on Observatory Hill, are both charming and remarkable because of the brilliancy with which the colours have come out.  Rai Sahib Tenduf La had asked me in the morning whether we would like some of the Sikkim drink, marwa, and he had the big bamboo pots of it ready for us.  Those of us who knew it of old greeted it with pleasure, and the new-comers all liked it.  He gave us all sorts of nice little things to eat, equivalent to Cocktail food in our society.  There were plates of delicious crushed and roasted maize, puffed rice, with a slight flavour of salt in it, and little biscuits, which looked like short thick cheese-straws and were, indeed a kind of short pastery flavoured with caraway seeds.  It was a delightful evening.

We went to see “Pygmalion” on Saturday between tea and dinner, I, for the third time, and enjoyed it so much as ever.  If only there were more films of that quality!  After dinner, I went with a party of people from this club, to dance at the Gymkhana Club, and we had a pleasant evening, and stayed till the end, dancing every dance.  It was a pleasure to me to find that in spite of dancing for several hours, and not getting to bed till 2.30 a.m., I was not unduly tired after riding and walking 25 miles, and did not find it irksome staying up till midnight, with a little party of old friends from the Jalpaiguri tea districts, whom Rex Fawcus had asked to dine.  I have been taking so little exercise in Chinsurah, that I would not have been surprised if I had felt very stiff and tired.

On two mornings I have been down at the Botanical Gardens, collecting information about Sikkim flowers.  My friend Dr Biswas is up hee, and we went down there to-gether on Saturday morning.  (In Darjeeling everything is either “up” or “down”)  On our way we passed a place where a celebration of the Durga Puja was going on.  Dr Biswas asked if I would mind if he went in for a moment to pay his respects to the Goddess.  Of course I said I would willingly wait, but a Bengali Gentleman who seemed to be in charge of the proceedings asked me to come in too, and took me right along in front of the image.  It was rather a nice figure of Durga in the centre, with Lakshmi, the goddess of good fortune on one side, and Saraswati the goddess of learning on the other.  People were coming and going, bringing offerings of rice and flowers, and pausing to say a prayer.  As we walked on to the gardens, Dr Biswas, explained the Durga represents spiritual force, as opposed to brute force, and that there fore it is particularly important to invoke her aid now, for, as he sees it, France and England are representing spiritual force, and the Nazis, brute force, at the present time.  The sacrifice of the buffaloe, which is practiced by the Hill people at this time represents the destruction of brute force by Durga, - - a thing I never knew before.  We go home on Saturday.  Best love.

From LJT to Rosemary

The Club, Darjeeling
Oct 25, 1939

My Darling Romey,

I am pleased to hear that you are doing so much practical botany and zoology. I have never done any microscopic work, but I am sure it must be fascinating. The last few days I have been reading some general science again. It is a book called “The Great Design”, which contains a collection of essays on the different sciences, by famous men in each special line, in each of which , they give some general idea of their subject, and state in what way their studies lead them to believe that there is a great plan or design lying behind everything, and that the study of Science far from causing us to cease to believe in an Eternal Intelligence, gives us a deeper and truer vision of It. It is so interesting that I am sorry I am trying to read it at a time like this in Darjeeling, when one is seldom free from interruptions.
I have struck a patch of good luck in my botanical investigations this week. Down at the botanical gardens I have found a Lepcha Plant collector, whose father was in the service of the botanical department before him. This man used to go out as a small boy of twelve with the head of the botanical department, Dr Cave, searching for Sikkim flowers, and he has since been all over Sikkim at all seasons. He is able to fill in the gaps in my personal knowledge, about questions as to whether flowers I have found growing in North Sikkim at certain seasons, also bloom on the outer ranges, and in what districts certain sorts of plants are to be found. Also the duration of the flowering seasons.
I am sorry to hear that your right eye has got a little bit more short-sighted, and I hope Mr. Adams is right in thinking that the eyes will improve as you get older and finish growing. Have you tried any exercises with the eyes? I can’t remember whether Dad left the book on the subject at home, or not. I must find out when I go back to Chinsurah. If the book is out here, we might write out a few exercises for you to do. We know three or four people who say that their sight has improved much by doing them. It’s worth an effort to help yourself towards the possibility of doing without wearing glasses.
The adjustments that people are making in the ordering of their lives owing to war conditions, makes interesting reading. I wonder whether you will get as much fun out of playing local matches, as out of going to distant schools. I am looking forward to hearing from Annette about what life is like in Oxford these days.
The dogs are becoming much attached to Dad, and I think, he to them. Wendy, the bitch who is staying with us for a few weeks, is gradually establishing a number of customs in conjunction with him, one of which is that she comes in and gets on to his bed while he has his early morning tea. She is a cunning little thing, with rather engaging ways, but very selfish. Whatever Max gets for himself, to play with, such as a bit of firewood (a thing of which he is fond) or his old tennis ball, she promptly takes from him, and after playing with it for about a minute, she lies down with it under her chin, and growls furiously if he tries to take it back. In some ways, she is more intelligent than he.
When we were out walking the other day, they ran up a hillside, and made their way along it, above the path we were on. When they wanted to get down they found, that the slope had grown steeper, the lower four or five feet of the slope above the road , had been built up as an almost perpendicular wall. Wendy jumped down it with no hesitation at all. Max, when he saw the drop below him, was afraid to jump, and rushed to and fro along the top, crying and much distressed. Wendy, taking a good run at it, managed to run and scramble up the wall, frisked round with Max for a few seconds, and then jumped down again, just as if she had gone up on purpose to show him how to get down. He did not learn the lesson, and we had to help him. I suppose he has lived all his life as a town dog, and does not know country ways.
If Uncle gets a goat at Highways, as he talks of doing, will you learn to milk it? I rather think it would be a good plan. I have never milked an animal myself, but I rather think it is one of the primitive things that we all ought to be able to do.

Best love from
Mum
Darjeeling, Oct 25th, 1939

From HPV to Rosemary (Handwritten)

My dear Rosemary,

Letter-writing does not come easily. Partly because my effort to follow Richard’s instructions about penmanship seem to imbue a sort of paralysis of the hand and of the mind, and partly because these days my thoughts run only on the state of my insides. Which is not too good. It may be said, however, that I never had a love for boiled fish (particularly if it is mud fish) and that I have lost my affection for milk puddings.
On Saturday, with an improvement in the weather, I went for a walk sufficiently long to encourage me to go out for a long one (picnic) on Sunday. Maybe I walked 8 miles (in two bits) on the Sunday. So on Monday I decided to continue the cure and I walked for 1 1/2hours with the dogs. The result was not good, especially as the weather changed for the worse, and my insides have gone back on me again. I
I have been to the movies - ‘Pygmalion’ (for the second time) on Saturday. I should have gone to see Deana Durbin yesterday, but it had been arranged that we should go to see home movies at friends, and very good they were.
Look you! The work is worth doing for its own sake, without thought whether it leads to an exam or a job. But you will doubtless not believe this.

Much love, Dad

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

Chinsurah,
October 31st, 1939.


My dear Annette

It is written in the Cat of Bubastes, but we did not believe it, that after the Egyptians had struck down wildfowl with throwing sticks (a thing improbable in itself) their cats leapt from their boats into the water and retrieved the birds. This saying was in a manner proved two nights ago: for while I was cutting deads languidly among the thick bushes by the river-bank I heard a miaow or perhaps a mewing below me some way to the south, and then before my eyes a small black and white cat after poising itself on the brink jumped into the water, swam out some four or five feet, dived beneath the surface and coming up swam back to the bank. It climbed up into a hole in the wall which holds the bank up, very bedraggled; a chilly thing to do just as night was falling. On this the servants can throw no light; it is true that there is a type of wild cat black and white, but who has ever heard that it swims? and there is a beast that is the size of a cat and that swims, but is not black and white (and is to be precise an otter) and I did not see it. Search this evening gave no trace of the cat; to my mind it was merely a stray cat of Egyptian descent. This is the strangest thing that ever was seen in Bengal.

The squirrels have forgotten in this past month of our absence that it is possible to get nuts at meal-times by standing at the open window; and perhaps they are wise in view of the addition of the bitch Wendy to the party. This morning there was a squirrel in attendance at breakfast time but it kept aloof on top of a jhilmil (which is a Venetian shutter in case you have forgotten) and lying out-stretched looked on us with suspicion.

The mynahs also come no more. Our only guests are those predatory ravens which come down to mock us and which have a very Prussian look. But the compound is vivid with migrating birds on their way south (or would it be north?) and there are a lot of flowers in spite of recent torrential rain. So heavy was the rain one day in the week before we returned that the day became black and the honey was washed out of the paddy, says my Personal Assistant, so that the ears will not follow properly --- which is a thing unheard of before, at least by me. The garden was rather jungly owing to all the rain and to the rapid growth which followed it; but such things are and there is much that has survived. What the idea of the honey-washing-out can be baffles my imagination: would it be that all the pollen is washed out of the blossom by heavy rain?

Sings of the cold weather. A certain freshness in the air, even though the days are still hot. No need to have punkhas full on: not that I have that in my office so at any time, because it is maddening to have one’s papers blowing about. Tea in the garden; and at 4.30 there is a feeling that evening is coming on. The view down the river is most charming with weather such as this, and at night the full moon across it makes one imagine that after all there must be peace somewhere in the world.

My insides are there still; they do not allow their continued existence to be forgotten. Few can have been so near to sickness as I on the way down from Darjeeling: I abandoned all hope, but against all likelihood survived. Remedies or precautions that do not work are worse than the disease. With the cold breeze on my face I escaped the sickness but developed a toothache which fills me with fears of an abscess, since I must have something to occupy my thoughts when I am going off to sleep. However the return to the warmth of the plains has freed me from that chilly feeling and no one could deny that I am far stronger than when I went up to the hills. The really benefited one was that dog which became bold and almost boisterous and returned with a companion, the above-named Wendy: she stays here for a day or two until her master moves out of the Bengal Club where dogs are not allowed into a house or flat. She is a genial friendly creature with a leer beyond parallel, a burrower under blankets and a crawler-up upon knees.

It may be worth record that on the day of our return, which was Sunday, I saw not far away wallowing in the river my friend the Gangetic Porpoise. Maxie having had no sleep at all the previous night owing to the terror of the train slept all the morning in a coma: I lay flopped on my bed meanwhile, being completely destroyed by weariness, although I had slept right through the night until 5 o’clock when we ran into Ranighat station and had morning tea, and in the afternoon I slept hoggishly for nearly two hours. That night none the less I slept soundly from 10.30 till seven, except for certain eye-openings when one dog or the other flapped its ears. The noise of ear-flapping is ominous to those unused to it. It may be the result of Darjeeling, it may be the result of reading an American on the art of relaxing, but I have certainly slept much more soundly these latter days --- though whether this has left me the more rested I should hesitate to say.

It would be proper to comment on your letters which are welcome and which give between them the impression that we have a fair idea of the family doings; but I have nothing particularly interesting to say. I am however glad that it is not my fate to broadcast for the B.B.C.; a reflection dragged from me by my having listened to a New Zealander on the wireless this evening.

The paper says that mushrooms should be pickled; this has impressed me greatly though I am sure that I should not myself like them thus, and I suppose that there is now no chance of your lighting upon any for experiment until months have passed.

As a war economy I am using an old false tooth brush for the cleaning of combs. Which reminds me that almost certainly I saw a flea on Wendy.

Much love
Dad

(pencil note by LJT) – This made Romeys letter overweight