1939 September
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
India
Sept 7th 1939
My Darling Annette,
With the veil of the declaration of War between now, and the few days ago, when we got your letter from St Baudelle, it seems like turning ones mind back to something that happened in another world. I don’t suppose you are in any mood to hear comments on it, but I will just say that we enjoyed your description of your life there, and are glad you were able to stay the allotted time. Naturally we make conjectures about what you are likely to do, but really we have no idea. it will be interesting to hear. One feels that one ought not to let personal concern about ones own family bulk too large in ones mind. The great concern for all who have been swept into this ridiculous and tragic conflict, is, as I think it should be, the main content of ones mind. It is heart-breaking to think of plans melted as if they had never been - - Work going to waste (to some extent) by being interrupted, and youth being made to face so much horror, before there has been time to explore life. One can only hope and hope again that the conflict may be short. If only we could know what is happening in Germany! If only the Germans who do not want this war, could find some leader and some voice! It would be so much easier to make a decent and lasting peace, if the fighting does not develop, and effect the civilian population. Everyone is saying and thinking this sort of thing, and I suppose the only reason one writes it, is that its a sort of relief to put forth the thoughts that keep on going round and round in ones head.
About letters, our “all Up” mail has ceased. It is hoped to send a limited number of letters at special rates by air, so I am going to send one letter a week to Aunt, by air, which will contain a copy of the family letter, and letters for you three children. The other family letters and copies of the letters I write to you, I will post by ordinary sea-route, and hope that one or other will reach you safely. Romey’s copy of the family letter will probably go to Aunt, so if that has not already been seen you when the sea-mail arrives, will you send your copy on to her?
To-morrow I am getting a radio set in Calcutta, and am looking forward to having it enormously. One can rest much better at night I find if one has heard the news over night. There is not that feeling of waking up in the small hours and fretting for the paper to come. Its a great proof of Dad’s devotion that he should suggest that I get one, for you know how he hates wireless.
In the midst of so much that is somber here is a comic tale that Dad found in some old book, - - A shy curate was teaching a class of girls of various ages. he said “Can any body tell me what is that monitor within us that warns us when we have done wrong?” The bigger girls passed the question, and a small scrap held up her hand eagerly. “Please Sir. I know! The baby!” And another out of Lord Curzon’s Memoires about the couple who chose to be married on Christmas Day, so as to get the benefit of the decorations, but were somewhat embarrased when the most prominent trimming was the text “Unto us a child is born” done in holly.
How differently the beginning of the War has worked out from what has always been expected. We have been expecting to hear of huge Air-raids over England and over Germany, and instead we hear that for three or four nights in succession British planes have dropped tons of leaflets over Germany and no German planes have tried to drive them down. It seems a profound mystery! It has greatly impressed the Babus. That Germany should have opened the war with an act of brutality involving death and suffering to women and children, while Great Britain dropped pamphlets when she could have dropped bombs appeals enormously to the sentimental Bengali mind!
I suggest that, as the Air Mail is so expensive, you and Romey should send letter for me to Aunt, written on the lightest possible paper – and let her send all three in one envelope. I have told her to debit me with the cost.
Best love Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
India
Sept 7th 1939
My dears,
Its more and more difficult to write letters, though one is so thankful to get them. its in times of great stress like this that the distance between England and India comes home to one, in spite of the marvels of news by Radio. However much one tries to give ones mind to daily duties, it is always rushing back to the War. One wonders and speculates about the great things affecting all the nation, and one wonders about the personal things of what ones own people are doing, and how it is all affecting them. The very fact that we have little to do and, at present no phisical difficulties to put up with, makes one uncomfortable. I would like to have some full time job to work on. Now that japan and Italy are neutral, the immediate danger of Air Raids here has largely disappeared, for it was Jap planes with bases in China, and Italian planes with bases in Abyssenia that were expected to attack India. Calcutta and in fact all India except the extreme Left Wing of Subash Bose and his Forward Bloc, which I think really includes the anarchist party, seem to be doing their best to get ready to help in any way they can. I am just about to organize First Aid and Home Nursing Classes here, more for the sake of giving us all something to do, than because I think there will be any call for local work. One can at any rate feel that they are useful subjects to be trained in.
Our Military Intelligence Officer to whose house I have been going every evening at 7 o’clock to hear the B.B.C. news, says that the anarchists who have been let out of prison during the last year or so, were all convinced that they were going to be locked up on the outbreak of war, and are surprised and rather non-plused because they have not been. He thinks they regret the martyr’s crown, and being comfortably housed and fed at Government Expense.
We were in Calcutta on Friday and Saturday, and stayed Friday night at Cossipore. Herbert had meetings to do with special war precautions both on Friday afternoon and on Saturday morning. I took Anina Brandt out to lunch on Friday. He had everything arranged for being taken off to a detention camp, poor thing, but I am glad to say that the German and Austrian women and children have not been shut up, and Anina is still safely in her little flat. She still banks on splits inside Germany. She thought the discontent so widespread when she paid a short visit to her country last year, that she cannot believe that they will support Hitler in his madness. How to avoid doing so without being shot immediately is the problem I suppose. Idris met us and we went to see “The confessions of a Nazi Spy” at 6 o’clock, a film which was suitable to our mood, and we it very good. It was funny to hear the factory at Cossipore still at work when we got back there for dinner. They are hard at it day and night of course, and Idris has little spare time.
Herbert and I lunched together at the Saturday club on Saturday, and then drifted along to see rather a silly American film “Calling Dr Kildare” at 3 o’clock, really chiefly to prevent one brooding over the tension of the situation, and so home to Chinsurah for dinner. Ronald Townend and a friend came to spend the day on Sunday, and we got the news that War had been declared at 5.30 by our Calcutta local time, just as soon as you did in England.
The best arrangement I can make about letters, I think, is to send two copies of my weekly letter by Air, and the rest by sea, in the hope that if one packet goes astray, the other may still arrive.
Herbert is not too well. His dysentry is proving obstinate, and the Doctor has advised him to stay in bed for a few days, to give the injections a better chance to work. Its bad luck for him, poor dear, for he feels so tired and rotten.
To save weight I am finishing this over-leaf in this manner. I hope it wont be awkward to read.
Yesterday, being a government holiday, Walter Jenkins, who has been recalled from Darjeeling, came out to see us, and happened to say, “If you want a good Radio set at a moderate price - - “ and went on to describe a set he has just selected for a large number of schools. To my amazement Herbert said to me “Why don’t you have one” its good of him for he has always disliked wireless so much, but I shall be enormously glad to have the means of getting the news quickly, without having to go to the Wright Nevills. I think the Mission ladies and the hospital matron, will be very glad to be allowed to listen, so we are getting it. Walter Jenkins is seeing about it, and will come back from Calcutta with me to-morrow night and fix it up. I have been busy this morning getting the preparatory arrangements for the arial, earthing wire and so on done.
Best love, my dears,
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
Sept 14th 1939.
My darling Annette,
It was a glowing pleasure to get letters from you and Aunt and Richard this morning, and made me realize how much I had been longing for news. I am glad you got back to England even though it was without your luggage, for though I don’t imagine you would have had any difficulties in France, had you had to wait there till moberlization etc was over, I expect you prefer to be in your own place. You are wise, I think, to decide to go on with your work at Oxford, since there seem ample volunteers to do all the war work that is needed at the moment. Should the war last a long time, the probability is that you would be more useful doing some office work in which modern languages are needed than as a V.A.D. or something of the sort. I was discussing this with the Jenkins when I had tea with them on Tuesday, and we all agreed that we thought it would be a good thing to encourage the undergraduates who were not urgently needed for actual war work, to carry on with their studies. The Jenkins girl, who is at Cambridge, and came out here for the long vacation, is sailing for home next week. She does not want to be side-tracked out here. She either wants to go on working for her degree, or do any work at home that may be required. Her parents say, many people are amazed that they are letting her go, but her mother says that she is a sensible girl, and quite able to decide what she feels she should do. her mother, as a matter of fact, is going too. She had half considered going home anyhow this autumn, and she feels she wants to be working at home.
I am sorry about the difficulties that Dicky has had in knowing what he ought to do. I am glad he has decided on joining up with the War Machine. Really in this instance, there seemed to me to be no choice before France and England. If only the interior dissolution of Germany could come quickly and save all the ghastly suffering and slaughter. I confess I half expect it may at any moment, though I know one should not indulge in “wishful thinking”. I’m glad that Aunt takes Gavin’s absolute pacifism as calmly as she seems to do. One recognises that it must take some courage for him to stick to what he believes to be right at a moment like this.
It was refreshing to read about your doings in France in “that other world” before the war. Your country visit sounds as if it was delightful. Anina Brandt has told me so many things during the days since war broke out that she was not able, or rather, should say, did not dare to tell before, for fear of it getting round to Nazi agents that she had spoken against the Reich. She says if you have not experienced it, you cannot really believe the extent of the terror in which all the people live of the Gasteppo. When she thinks of it, she clenches her fists and says “It cannot go on! I know it cannot! The people must break out! They cannot go on enduring it”. It sounds comforting, but how are they to break out without leaders or organisation? Still what a handicap it must be to try to fight a Major war, while having to throttle, suppress and hood-wink your own people and keep an army of spies and police at owrk preventing them hearing or speaking the truth. It must be pretty disheartening to hear things like the announcement from Copenhagen to-day that there is no exchange value for the mark. To purchase form abroad when your money has no value, seems a bit awkward!
Auntie Mona invaribly affords some comic relief at the darkest moments! You remember the famous letter which she wrote to me in the midst of the 1938 Crisis? Her remarks on this occasion seem to be almost as refreshing.
I hope your luggage has reached England safely. Your description of the departure from the station when the bus was late was vivid, and amusing reading though it must have been an unpleasant moment at the time. Having no idea what you want for a birthday present, I send you a cheque (In the sea-borne letter). Its too early to send wishes yet.
Best love from
Mother
From LJT to Rosemary
Chinsurah, Sept 14th, 1939
My darling Romey,
It was the greatest joy to get letters from home this morning, and have some picture in my mind of what you are all doing. I expect you enjoy helping with the horses, though grooming a horse is pretty hard work. It is a wonderful thing to have practical experience of doing all these things. When I read about you this morning, I thought really how much happier for you than being brought up as girls were in the Victorian days, never to soil your hands, never to eat a hearty meal, because it was not genteel and might make your waist too big, and never to go about without an elder female or a maid in attendance! When you are back at school I wonder whether you will be doing anything to help with the work of the world. It is difficult to fit in to a school curriculum of course.
Away from everything as we are here, one so much wishes that one could have some real work to do. I’m glad that we have, at any rate, been able to fix up First Aid classes, but one would like to be able to give real service. It’s a comfort having the wireless. One at least feels that one hears the news just as quickly as you hear it at home. I rather like to feel that sometimes you are listening to the same voice at the same time that I am listening to it.
In our little work of the Compound, an important event has been the departure of the cats. The mali found homes for them. We found them no pleasure, but a nuisance. They hunted the squirrels more and more, which was the chief thing we had against them, but they were also very naughty with the seed pans and boxes. These they thought were arranged for their pleasure and convenience, and they had no regard for the young plants. They would not be friends with us, so I was glad to see them go. Within two days, the squirrels knew about it, and began coming down on the ground again with confidence, and sitting up to eat their nuts quite unconcernedly. Maxie is astonishingly good. He does not attempt to chase the squirrels or the myna birds. He seems to know that they are friends. His only enemy is the raven, or rather the pair of ravens. These occasionally alight on the sills of the French windows into the garden where food for squirrels and mynahs is thrown. We only have to clap hands gently, and Maxie is off his chair and after the raven like a shot. The squirrels clear out of his way as he runs, but show practically no fear of him, which I think is rather wonderful. It would be lovely if we could get them to be real friends.
Dad had had a week in bed. His complaint is better, but he is taking a very dis-spiriting medicine, and feels pretty limp on this, his first day out of bed. I am longing for him to get away for a holiday.
After many years, I have started knitting socks again. While listening to the wireless for odd moments, it is difficult to get out all the paraphernalia for sewing, and I like to have some knitting handy. There is not an awful lot to write about, so forgive a short letter.
Best love darling,
From Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
Sept 14th 1939.
My Dears,
Almost the only way to write this sort of letter in War time seems to be to be frankly self-centered and locally personal, for to attempt to give expression to the thoughts that stream through ones mind, whenever it is not definitely engaged in some work or recreation, is impossible and would be very boreing to the recepients of the letters, so I will just try to give you news of ourselves and of our contacts with our little corner of the world.
Calcutta and I suppose the rest of India has settled into some sort of a routine and an attitude towards the world’s affairs, and interest in the ordinary doings of daily life revives. A very large proportion of the business men are already members of one or other of the auxillary corps, and thos who were not, have mostly joined up. Those whose presence is needed to carry on business etc, will be available for local duties, such as guards and standing by in case of riots and so on. Those who are “dispensable” will be available for service with the regular army in India. The Government services are already so short of Englishmen, and there is so much extra War-time work, that none are being allowed to go, and thos who are on leave are being recalled. India seems to be behaving better than we expected, and very differently from what the Germans expected! Subash Bose and a very few of the extremests want to use the situation as a lever to demand immediate full independence from the time war finishes but the bulk of the great Congress leaders are giving unqualified support to Britain. How simple the ideas of some of the even fairly sophisticated people, about modern war still are is illustrated by a discussion and suggested anit air-craft measures at the meeting of the municipality of the area round the Dunlop Rubber Co. The Manager of Dunlop’s, Mr Bennet is one of the Commissioners. The chairman voiced his opinion that the great danger would be from incendiary bombs. The question was what measures to take, and the favoured decision was to arrange for men to be stationed at various points, so that if a bomb dropped they could either pick it up and pop it into the bucket of water with which they were to be provided, or empty a bucket of sand over it. It all sounds so nice and neat and simple, does’nt it?
* * * * *
There was a pause in my writing here, while I read letters from Grace, Richard and Annette, which I was enormously pleased to get. I cant say that I had felt any acute anxiety about Annette, for I felt sure if she could not get home to England for the time being, she would do something about carrying on her own studies or helping French war preparation in France. I am glad too, to know that Richard has decided on what course to follow, and I’m selfishly, terribly glad that for the moment he is not somewhere in the fireing line. Its odd how in times of stress it is so enormously comforting to hear from ones own people, even if the letter contain nothing unexpected. Driving into Calcutta just after ten yesterday, I saw the Air-Mail plane just landed on the river, and hoped there might be letters on board for me.
It seems rather a curious thing that the person I find it most comforting to be with is a German, Anina Brandt. She is so sure that there will be dissolution in Germany before long. How I hope she is right! There are interesting little bits of evidence here and there that the Germans, even outside Germany, did not believe there would be war right up to the last moment. Anina met the senior man in the big German Firm, Siemans, and his wife at a dinner-party about ten days before war was declared. They were pleased because he had been transferred to the head office in Germany. They had just sold all the furniture in their extremely well-furnished flat and the wife said to Anina that they were sending their two young children to stay with friends in Bombay, while she and her husband made a tour of Benares, Delhi, Agra and one or more of India’s show places. (Sorry about this, The wind blew the carbon out of place and I had to type in later – LJT)
Said Anina to Mrs Geissner “but don’t you want to get out of India before War breaks out?”, to which Mrs G replied “Oh! There wont be any war”. The epilogue to this is that they have been caught by the war, and Herr Geissner is in a detention camp. I had a long talk with the police officer who is in charge of the “Enemy aliens” in Calcutta. Many of them, he says, have expressed the most profound relief that they are not in Germany. They have behaved well, and made no fuss. The acting Consul General, who was always said to have been sent out here as a Nazi spy on the doings of his countrymen, and Baron Richtofen, the No 2 in the consulate, who was also known to be a warm Nazi partisan, are under surveillance in the Consul-General’s house and not allowed to see anyone. Old Herr Hubert, the Chancellor, who has been in Calcutta for years, and who is much liked here, is in his own flat and has begged on no account to be sent back to Germany. He considers a detention camp under British control infinitely preferable! I think I must go and see the old man. Mr Norton Jones said he would give me permission. I took Anina to see “Good-bye Mr Chips” on Friday afternoon, thinking it would do her good to get away from thinking about the war. I had no idea that half way through we should be plunged into the great war! We sat side by side, sniffing heavily, but we enjoyed it all the same. Its awfully good. I had a busy day in Calcutta on Friday, what with shopping and Himalayan Club and a lunch-party at Lady Ezra’s. Anina and I went to the film at 3 o’clock, and I just had time afterwards to have a cup of tea, before the Himalayan Club meeting. It was a delightful surprise that G.B.Gourlay had arrived in Calcutta and come to the meeting, and we afterwards had dinner to-gether at the Saturday Club. The branch of Parry’s which G.B. used to run here, does a lot of trade with Germany, and G.B. rushed up from Madras to make arrangements. Out of the short time he was here, he spared Sunday to come and spend the day with us, and I encouraged him to forget war-worries and enjoy himself with news of and pictures of his beloved Sikkim mountains. Walter Jenkins had dinner with us on Friday. He had kindly purchased the Radio set for me and drove it and me back to Chinsurah after dinner. I had had the Electric mistri fix up an extra plug, and the earthing wire and other preparations, and Walter and I fixed everything up before breakfast on Saturday, as he had to get back to work in Calcutta. The set works beautifully, and I do find it a comfort to be able to switch on and get the latest news from Daventry. By our local time we are 5 hrs and 54 minutes ahead of G.M.T, so at 6.24 a.m I get the 1.30 a.m broadcast from Daventry. It comes through beautifully in the early morning. I can just shift the machine on to the East verandah which is out of ear-shot of Herbert, and I listen while I sip my early morning tea. The next long news bulletin we get at 7.9 p-m from Daventry, but there are numerous in between ones from Delhi Calcutta and other eastern broadcasting stations. Odd times this week have been busy trying to fix up First Air lectures. All arrangements are made now. I have a nice Indian doctor from Chandernagore coming every Monday evening to take the lectures at this house, and I think a few English speaking Indian ladies will join the English group. On Monday I had to preside at the Foundation Day of the local Girls High English School. Rather to my surprise I find I can make quite high-souled impromptu speeches. I think long years of practice in addressing Girl Guides must have developed this ability. On Tuesday I had to go to Calcutta again, chiefly to hear Edward Groth’s report on the disaster on K2 during the American Ex. I had quite a bit of Himalayan Club work to do too and went out to tea with Kitty Jenkins, who with her undergraduate Daughter sails for England next week. G.B.Gourlay, Reggie Cooke and I all went to Mr Groth’s flat again at 6 p-m- as I wanted them to hear the strange story of K.2 from him direct. The details are confidential, but its a sad tale of dissention amongst the climbers, and refusal by one man (who subsequently died) to obey the leader’s orders, on the ground that he had paid a large part of the expense of the Expedition and was entitled to do as he pleased. His insorbordination plus some other factors, caused his own death and the loss of three of our Sherpa Porters, which is the point where the Himalayan Club come into the affair. For a while we almost forgot the war, in our amazement that mountaineers could behave in such a way. Herbert is better and up for the first time to-day. The doctor insists that he takes a little holiday.
Best love to you all LJT
From LJT to Rosemary
Sept 17th, 1939
My darling Rosemary,
Congratulations on your splendid success in the School Certificate exam! Dad and I are both so delighted. It’s a tremendous credit to your efforts at the subjects that you did not find easy. What a satisfactory thing to have behind you know, the knowledge that you can enter a university if you want to. The next year at school ought to be very nice for you will be able to work at the things that specially interest you. I was glad to hear that Annette was probably going back to Oxford. I feel that there are probably all the women they need for the resent in the various women corps and that in the end she will become a more useful citizen by carrying on with her education, and fitting herself for a responsible job. Another reason I am glad that she is going back is that I hope she will be able to take you out now and again, for I imagine it will be difficult for Aunt or anyone to get down to see you.
Thank you for the photos. There is an early photo of me, but at the age of about ten, being scrambled over by four terriers in very much the way that you are being scrambled over in this picture.
Mixed up with the war I have been wondering many things about what is going on at Highways, and one of them was a wonder whether you would be putting more land under vegetables. It well be a very great help to have more potatoes and green stuff. How I wish I could transfer my working capacity to some one at home. One feels that the trivial things in which I was engaged, have lost all point. I tried to do a little botanical work this morning, but I could not concentrate on it, or feel that the names of the plants I have seen in Sikkim really matter. Perhaps I should not have said this to you, as it is might encourage you to feel that way about your school work, but for you it is different. You have got to train your mind to be ready for whatever job life may bring you, and it’s that that matters, not the importance of the detail of what you learn.
I am very glad you did so well in French and in Biology. The latter is a specially creditable achievement for you only started biology when you went to Headington, didn’t you?
Dad made me laugh so much last night just before we went to sleep. He went off to bed before I did and found that Maxie had left a bit of dog biscuit at the top of the stairs. He has developed a little ceremony. Each night as we get up from the dinner table, he hurries to his biscuit bowl, and picks out a big bit of biscuit, which he carries proudly upstairs and pretends to stop and eat it on each of the two landings. The game is for us to chase him on. Then he settles down on the thick mat at the top of the stairs and eats it. Dad commenting on last night’s incident, said in the most serious and earnest way “The duplicity of the beast.” He used a tone such as might have been brought forward by a skilled barrister in a court of law to melt the hearts of the jury, and could not understand why I burst into merry laughter! Maxie’s friend, the black puppy, Penny, is going to be here for a month while his mistress has a holiday from school teaching. Maxie seemed to know yesterday, and asked most clearly to be allowed to go to Penny’s house ‘to play’.
Since I have not yet written the family letter (It is only Sunday) there is a great temptation to begin telling you the little bits of news of our family doings, that I really must save for it. As a rule I write the family letter first, and the personal letters are sort of postscripts. This week I felt I must write to you as soon as I heard about your exam. Had it not been war time, I should have sent you a cable of congratulations. I am interested to hear about your work with the horses. That is a job I would rather like, too.
Best love and again congratulations,
Mum
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
Sept 20th 1939.
My darling Annette,
In a world that seems to have gone completely crazy, letter writing becomes more and more difficult. One feels that ones own little affairs are so petty compared with the world shaking events that happen almost every day. Rosemary’s announcement of her success in the School Cert Exam, was a most refreshing breath of normality, and I am so delighted that she has done well. I always had an idea that Miss Mann rather under-rated Romey’s intelligence. From the results of the exam, it seems that she is at least a good average. Talking at the Jenkins the other night Walter Jenkins, and the Italian, Professor Tuchi, both said that they thought it was a great mistake of countries to let the pick of their scholarly young men, go to fight, at any rate, till there were not enough others. They think they should be kept at the Universities, as they are the material from which the next generation of the governing, scientific and legal leaders will come. There is a great deal of good sense in the idea. Catherine Jenkins is hoping to carry on at Cambridge. She and her mother sail this week. They were glad to hear your ideas on the subject of trying to finish the University course, and throughly agree with you.
It was nice of Dicky to write to us at great length on the night that War was declared, telling us something of his difficulties about making up his mind. It probably was’nt easy for him to do, but it was a comfort to me, for it made me feel a little less far away. I am very glad that he decided to join up if he is called, but at the same time, I have a sneaking hope that he may not be called for just yet.
We have spared an occasional thought for your luggage, left in France, and hope that it reached you safely. I am sorry to say I have not yet succeeded in picking up a single French broadcast. The B.B.C seems to be sending out news bulletins in almost all languages except French, and on our five valve set, we don’t seem able to get Paris. The amature experts tell me that it is very weak and almost impossible to get at this time of year, but that we may be able to get it in the cooler dryer weather. Dad I think would like to refresh his memory by listening to French news.
I don’t think I have ever felt so completely dumfounded with depression as I did on the night that we heard of Russia’s entry into Poland. it seemed that the whole world might be dragged into war. It seems so still, but there are things that make one hope there may be some escape from that. Is Hitler turning on all his old friends and supporters? It begins to look a little like it. If it is so, perhaps it will hasten his fall. How we should get out of the Russian tangle in any event, I have no idea, but I suppose one ceases to feel so actively miserable as one gets used to an idea. I am hoping that Anina Brandt will be here for the week-end and able to translate some of the German German broadcasts for us. There seem to be astonishing number. I seemed to get three different stations while looking for Daventry last night. Is’nt is amusing how quickly one picks up the jargon and the tricks of any new thing one has to manage. I was frightened of touching a wireless set, before I had one of my own. It seemed mysterious, and I felt if I turned anything too far, the whole affair might blow up.
This should reach you must about as you are going up to Oxford, I suppose. It will be an odd and memorable term. I hope you wont find it difficult to work.
Best love
Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
Sept 21st ‘39
My Dears,
Here, far away from the War, we seem to be living in between two worlds and neither of them quite real. To realize what is going on in Poland or in connection with the riots in Czechoslavakia, while we live in comfort looking out on the peaceful river, requires a big effort of imagination. Even to picture England under the present war conditions, is difficult, and yet the realization is sufficiently vivid constantly to make the trivial things which one is doing, seem futile beyond words. Talking to Reggie Cooke on Sunday - - no - - Monday - - when I said I wished I had some job to get on with, he said he wished to goodness he could have me in the Telegraph Workshops, of which he is the superintendent, as his confidential Secretary, for he has been working from early morning till late at night, and he says there is a lot of stuff with which a person like myself could deal, letters and notes and filing papers that he does not want to pass through Babu’s hands. Unfortunately it could not be done without the consent of the government of India, and that would take so long to get that the rush of work will probably be over before any arrangement could be made. He did not say, but I imagine they are preparing all sorts of emergency repair sections, so that in the event of raids, things could be quickly got into working order again. Its the sort of job I should like doing. A drawback to taking on a full time job in Calcutta would be the question of getting in and out each day, and it would rather nullify the object of my being out here, which is mainly to look after Herbert. it might be possible to do something like going in three days a week. One could do a good bit, especially in the way of filing and checking papers and things like that. I am not dismissing the idea completely from my mind.
I don’t think I have ever felt so dumfounded and profoundly depressed as when the news that the Russians had entered Poland came through on Sunday afternoon. For the moment it seemed inevitable that the whole world would be dragged into the war. Ones reactions to things are, after all, so personal and often selfish. I felt glad that I had a busy day in Calcutta on Monday. Meeting and talking to many people, possibilities began to emerge and it seemed that in all the uncertainty, there were hopes that an actual clash between Britain and Russia might be avoided. I wonder whether Russia is enjoying keeping the world on Tenterhooks about what she is going to next. From their point of view it must be rather enjoyable getting their own back at all the countries who have been so rude to them in the past.
signs of old age are beginning to appear in me. Lately I have noticed that I had to put books and sewing further away from my eyes that I used to do, so I went to have my eyes tested on Monday morning, and am being supplied with the first degree of glasses for old-age sight. The optician says that I have done well not to need them till my present age, for many people begin to feel the need of them at forty. Reggie Cooke and I had lunch to-gether at the Saturday Club, to discuss the report I had drafted for the Headqts of the Himalayan Club at Simla about the American Expedition to K2. It was curiously difficult to keep our minds on it! We kept on finding ourselves talking about Russia and what she is going to do. After lunch I spent an hour with Anina Brandt, and then we went shopping to-gether, and had tea with John Auden at the Saturday Club. I had to be changed into evening dress and ready to introduce Major and Mrs Wright Nevill, whom we are putting up for membership of the Club, to members of the Committee, by six o’clock, and then I went off to dinner with the Jenkins, partly to say goodbye to Kitty and her Cambridge daughter, who are leaving for England to-day, and partly to meet Professor and Mrs (or Signorina?) Tuchi, who are just back from Tibet. Tuchi is a famous Italian Scholar of the East especially Tibet. he has paid many visits both to Eastern and to Western Tibet. He has spent along time during this visit at the famous monastery of Sakya. It is a renowned centre of learning. Mrs Tuchi must be the second European woman to visit it. None had been there before Peggy Williamson went. Tuchi had promised to give a lecture to the Himalayan Club, when I saw him in the Spring, but we agreed that it would be almost impossible to arrange it at this moment, with everyone’s mind so disturbed by War news. Its a pity, for his such a charming person, slender, with good features, clear far-seeing grey eyes, and curly dark hair, which he brushes down carefully, and ruffles with his hand the moment he becomes really interested in the conversation. He said to us that he is sure it is no exaggeration to say that 90% of Italians dislike the Germans. he is sure that economics apart, Mussolini would be frightened to push his people into a war on Germany’s behalf. Of the Japanese he said “I do not like the Japanese. They have a beautiful country - - a beautiful country! But they are a mischiefous little people.”
We have got our First Aid Classes started. The first one was last Tuesday, and there were seventeen of us, and one absent oweing to ill-health. Our instructor, a young Indian doctor from Chandernagore, was nervous to start with but soon warmed up to his subject, and lectured quite well. Apart from their real object and use, I think they are going to be a good way of bringing people in touch with one another. We have three ladies from a jute mill seven miles up the river, four from the Dunlop Rubber Co Three Indian ladies the officials wives of this place, and the Mission ladies, as well as the matron from the hospital, who comes to help. Next week we shall have the wife of the French Administrator from Chandernagore. There is a tendency for all these groups to be isolated from one another. In fact in may cases they had not met although they are neighbours. I am especially glad for some of the English and Scotchwomen to meet some well educated Indian ladies. Two of our Indian members are B.As and the other is a Student at the College here, daughter of our Collector. I had hoped to have two more Indian ladies but one is in “poor health”, which probably means she is going to have a baby, and the other, though a graduate of Calcutta University, is not allowed to come by her husband.
Herbert is still very run down. he has asked for nine days leave from Oct 1st, which will carry us on till the Commissioner’s Conference which takes place in Darjeeling from 10 to 16th and then the Puja Holidays are from the 16th to the 29th, so, with luck we may get four clear weeks in Darjeeling. I hope the rest and cold air will cure rest and refresh Herbert.
A letter has just come from Darjeeling telling me that the Swiss-German climbing party have returned from Sikkim. The two young Germans must be interned, and Grob, the Swiss apparantly travelled down with them last night and is staying in Calcutta. He wants to see me if possible. I have asked John Auden who speaks German, to get in touch with him, and ring me up later. Poor Grob! He will be deeply distressed for his two young friends, for the had done a great deal of climbing to-gether. Both of them seemed nice lads, and have never served in the German Army. If Grob is in no hurry, I shall see him when I go in on Monday. Otherwise I may go in to-morrow or Saturday.
The last few days have been the typical still, hot, steamy September weather. Sept is always said to be the most trying month in Bengal, but till a few days ago, 1939 has been kind to us, and we have had quite cool breezy days. Oh! I almost forgot to tell you how Herbert listened to a conversation of a group of small boys who were looking through the front gate at Maxie. The were discussing what sort of an animal he was. Only one considered him to be a dog. General opinion favoured some sort of mongoose!
The new wireless is a great boon! The half-past midnight broadcast from Daventry, which I listen to at 6.24 a.m by our time, comes through perfectly. it might almost be someone talking in the room beside me. The one we get at 4.39 p.m. is the worst. There seems to be more interference at that time of day, and the pitch of the voice seems to vary from loud to soft in sort of waves. I am sorry that I have not yet succeeded in getting on to paris, as we want to try listening to some French.
Here is the end of the sheet, so I have only room to send my best love
LJT
Family letter from HPV (carbon, ‘Annette’ hand written in ink)
Chinsurah,
September 22nd 1939
Friday, About 7 p.m.
My dear Annette,
One should write every week or not at all; owing to the difficulty of writing anything if one writes at long intervals. You may retort that I have chosen the second alternative but in my mind I am a constant writer. On this occasion I have the added incentive that my dear wife has put a new ribbon in the typewriter which gives me a false feeling of efficiency, and I do believe that so far I have made no mistake.
It is perhaps a good sign that I am sitting up and hammering away at this: for it has been my custom these latter days to lie on my bed or on the takhtaposh in the drawingroom (and that is merely a name for a wooden bed; and it isn’t really a wooden bed, but a string one, the kind that so gaily harbours bugs in places where that is done and the proper name for it is a charpoy) in a broken sort of way reading biographies and wishing that I was reading a good murder. It is apparent that my back is not nearly so broken down as my mind though it is as broken as it well can be without being so. I have lost interest in almost everything. At such times in the old days I used to read books on chess with the aid of a pocket board: you cannot exhaust a book on chess, especially if there are a dozen if not more, of them; but it is clear that you can exhaust the pleasure of them. As soon as I lose belief that I shall attain to further skill in anything I lose interest in it; I do believe that I must class among such things my study of the French language. A godmother gave me the gift of knowing a lot of that language except at such times as I want to speak it and the further gift of speaking it fluently only when the French folk present were of the kind who refuse to understand that I am talking it. Which is much as my Bengali used to be. Anyhow I have attained a really Christian humility of late; everything that I have been trying to do has come to nothing and I am aware that I am quite useless. Talking of Christian saints . . . . . it was written in a book that no Saint except St Francis had shown any interest in insects (and he only in butterflies; which reminds me that a small chameleon in the garden this evening pretending to be a dead branch was so strong minded that it didn’t stir when I pushed it with the scissors) and Joan exclaimed that I should put in a claim, with my assiduous rescuing of ants and such from drowning and other disasters; I remarked that St Simeon Stylites came near to it when he put back into his sores the maggots which had fallen out of them, with appropriate pious encouragements, and she said a wicked thing; to wit, that first of men he had discovered the American discovery that they are an aid to healing.
That dog has just been in to shake hands for his supper. He is in high spirits, having deceived himself. For some inadequate reason he is doped habitually with condition powders, given to him in a little milk after breakfast; and when they ran out a couple of days ago, he kicked up a fuss until he was at least given the milk. This he announced did him all the good in the world and in spite of Joan’s going to Calcutta today (a thing known to be debilitating to the dog) he was in fine form or fettle this evening and with the other dog ran laps and laps. The second poem which was revealed to the Rosemary only was (to anyone who had seen the drawing of Maxie to which it referred) a true masterpiece: and it is difficult to continue the writing of poems. But someone acting in a film which I saw some weeks ago had the name of Snapsy Maxie, out of which it might be possible to make a sloka better than this,
Why do they call that Maxie snapsy?
He isn’t very snapsy but he is very papsy.
He is not however: which may make it a poor poem. But I doubt if all the young women praised by the poets were what they were praised for; and the poets got away with it.
The weather is stickily sickly. As is the custom of September weather. There is however at many times a breeze off the river and the boats go gaily past. The tugs no longer hug this bank very much now that the floods have gone down; but one of the really big ones came near enough for me to see that I have been greeting it as my old friend Raidak falsely: it was a mere Atlas, with no appeal. A dead buffalo went down the river a few weeks ago and I had a mind to telephone to Idris Matthews that he might have it with my love when it reached him; but the telephone on a private exchange is at all times a bad one and probably it would have been useless to try.
I am very pleased with that girl Rosemary’s scholastic success; but I refuse to be surprised. Always I have accepted it as apparent that she would do things when she tried: it is to me her obvious duty as a daughter. How annoying was the obvious surprise with which my family greeted any of my doings! REVEALING THAT THEY hadn’t expected much. Alas for the error with the capitals! But I had given up the idea of avoiding mistakes lines and lines ago. Yes: I am pleased with Rosemary.
Among the books that I have been reading are a couple by Lever; they confirmed me in the impression given to me earlier by reading Georgian biographies or biographies of Georgians. In spite of these wars, things are better than they were. We grumble because we are in a hurry. Also I feel more than I did that most of the people we meet are as it were ghosts: if the scientists had not butted in, their parents would have died and they not born. And the number of people who are not walking about because their parents were killed in the great war too soon to be their parents is by comparison small. The truer the thought the less conviction it carries; and so your failure to accept this as a sure thing in no way disproves it; not that it could be a comfort to anyone however simple.
When your mother is away I do not turn on the wireless; things seen are mightier than things heard; but at any rate they carry less gloom, and I prefer to wait for the morning paper. Besides it is a full time job keeping the machine in focus at this time of year.
(handwritten addition) 28th September
Much restored. Maybe I shall be well soon. We go up to Darjeeling on Saturday. I leave behind me stacks of work and more will accumulate while I am away. But what help for it.
Need I say that I appreciate your letter? How good a thing to have a strong stomach and to face things with calm! I have been relaxing on my bed. It gives one spasms or jerks in the legs: and an itch all over.
Much love
Dad
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
Sept 28th 1939
My darling Annette,
There’s not really an awful lot to write about, but for affection’s sake I like to send you a letter of some sort for yourself. This war must surely be one of the strangest that has ever taken place. I wonder whether Hitler will make some dramatic peace move after the consultations with his party leaders in Berlin. If the very general prophecy of the Indian astrologers that he is to meet a violent end in September is to come true, fate must hurry up! We are so far away here that I feel as if I am watching a dream. It does not even seem as near as a play. There is also the feeling of misty uncertainty about Russia and all her doings, that is typical of dream life. Much of it seems just about as improbable as visions in the unconscious mind. Beyond it all, when peace comes, what will it bring? It seems that there will have to be readjustments of a most wholesale character. There were big changes between the before and the after of the last war, but I imagine they will be trivial compared with what will have to take place in our future.
In the midst of all these thoughts of war, it was nice to get a long letter from Ron Kaulback yesterday. Much of it is taken up with a long essay on the beauty of primitive people, and the sadness that contact with civilisation, especially missionaries, should spoil them and debase their morals. All this stirs thoughts in me. Its true that contact with more advanced people often does spoil simple folk, but looking at mankind as a whole, there surely must be this risk, if the human race is going to climb slowly, slowly to better things. We could not go back now to totem and taboo. Its so clear how the great religions have developed from the primitive ones, that one feels the primitive people still existing should be able to develop. The trouble is, I suppose, that they are asked to skip several thousand years of development in a single bound, and its impossible to do it. How to avoid it, I don’t quite see, though it seems to me un-neccessary that the missionaries should force the pace, as they seem to like to do. The letter also contained an exciting account of shooting a tiger on foot, compelled thereto by public opinion and expectation against which Ron said he had not the strength of mind to refuse. He wrote the letter early in August. Naturally he had heard nothing of the war. I wonder whether he yet has. He was hoping to stay in the wilds till Spring 1941. I wonder whether he will rush back when he hears that there is war.
A letter from Dicky written on Sept 9th, reached us on the 22nd. We were interested to hear that the Universities are anxious to prevent the rush of undergraduates into the ranks, and want to keep them for jobs for which they are more specially fitted. its very wise, I’m sure. One of the great tragedies of the last war, was the wiping out of so many of the most promising young brains and personalities, during the first few months of the war. We shll look forward to your letters from Oxford, telling us what is happening there. Amongst the mass of “news” in the papers, there has been no mention of what the Universities are doing.
There is the bell for lunch. As might have been said a hundred years ago, - “Be assured of my continued regard”
Best love
from
Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
Sept 28th 1939
My dears,
In spite of the War, I find myself looking forward with real pleasure to going to Darjeeling to-morrow. Herbert has shown definite improvement the last few days, and I hope he will now be able to benefit by a holiday in Darjeeling. It is a slight disappointment not to be going out on a trip but it has the advantage of making packing much easier! The only thing I regret is leaving my garden just at this moment, when most of the seeds are going in, but the little mali is a sensible fellow, and I hope he has grasped the directions he has been given.
Last week-end was a busy one. On the Friday I had to go to Calcutta to see the Swiss Climber, Grob, whom I mentioned in my letter last week. he had asked whether the Himalayan Club could do anything about asking if his two young German companions could possibly be transferred to a Hill Camp. Actually I think this idea came from the ex-secretary of the Himalayan Club in Darjeeling, who probably did not realize that there are practically no Hill Camps this war, and those that there are, are only temporary. it seemed easier to go in and see Grob, and by the time I met him he had seen the Swiss Consul, who had told him that it would be useless to apply. Grob found Calcutta nothing like as hot as he expected, and also learnt here that the interned Germans were just going to be sent to a central camp at Ahmadnagar which is on the Bombay side, up on the edge of the Deccan plateau, and which has a good climate. However I was pleased to see Grob and hear about the climbing they have done in Sikkim. I had lunch with him at the Great Eastern Hotel, and then we went to see “The Four Feathers”. Except for the excellent colour, I thought it a singularly poor film, and it seemed to me that the only piece if acting real enough to move any emotion, was that of the little boy at the dining-room table in the early scene. Over tea, Grob and I began to talk politics. Though Swiss by nationality, he has lived for many years in Germany, and has a business in Munich. He has much to say in favour of Hitler, or at any rate of the Hitler of a few years ago. He says that there are two definite parts to the present Nazi party, one Christian, and the non-Christian. Goebbels and “the Jew-Baiter” are definitely anti-Christian. Himmler, oddly enough, is devout. The Grobs had a maid-servant who had been in service with Himmler, and told them that every evening he prays with his family. Seems difficult to fit in with his political activities, does’nt it? Hitler, apparantly, wavers between the two parties.
I had to meet some friends at the Saturday Club, and later had dinner there with John Auden, Reggie Cooke and Grob, who jokingly offered us three steamer tickets to Europe by a German line, and suggested that we should all come next year, and that he would take us climbing in Switzerland.
Idris brought Anina Brandt out here on Saturday, and had tea and dinner with us. Anina stayed on for the week-end, and I took her into Calcutta early on Monday morning. We spent a long time on Sunday filling in her papers asking for British nationality, which fortunately she can prove that she asked for in the Spring, but could not apply for till the 28th of September, because of the four years that a person has to be resident in British territory, the last one must be without a break, and Anina did not get back from her holiday in Europe last year, till Sept. 28th. The police-man who is in charge of the Germans in Calcutta, advised her to write a note, setting out a brief history of her doings since she left Germany in 1929. It was interesting helping her to write this. Most of it I had heard from time to time in odd bits, but joined to-gether it makes an interesting story. Actually Anina says that at the moment having British nationality will not make a very great material difference to her, but she feels a strong wish to make it clear that she does not want to be associated in any way with the doings and ideals of the Nazi party, and this seems the only way. I hope the nationality will be granted.
There seemed to be plenty to do on Monday in spite of the fact that I had been in so recently as Friday. Edward Groth game me lunch at his flat, and we had an interesting talk. He is fed up with Roosevelt, for, he said, as indeed I had noticed myself, Roosevelt is not consistant in his speeches. In one, I remember he said that every battle fought in Europe mattered to America, and later he said that America must keep out of the War at all costs. There have been similar sorts of examples in many of his speeches. In fact he is trying to eat his cake and have it! I did not ask Edward Groth whether he was in favour of America coming in or not, for I think the Diplomatic Service people are in rather an awkward position of such matters. They naturally don’t want to be quoted as holding views in contradiction to the policy of the country they represent, so I always avoid asking them what they actually think themselves. I spent part of the after-noon with my old Dutch friend, Mr van Manen, and met Idris after tea, to go to a 6 o’clock cinema. We chose “Bachelor Mother” with Ginger Rogers in the title role, and I enjoyed it far more than the “Four Feathers”. We drove out to dinner at Cossipore, which is seven miles on my way home. Idris is in good form. He is naturally, extremely busy. He has been short of officers for a long time, and complaining bitterly to Government about it, as the usual strength was nine. Now they are suddenly sending him seven new men, making a total of eleven. Two mornings a week he flies in the early morning as a target for the anti-aircraft guns. He says that he hears various rumours in Calcutta of people saying they cannot understand why Mr Matthews is disobeying the rules and flying in a prohibited area! His plane is fairly well-known, you see!
There has been great terror all about the last few days, for news went out that there was to be a practise air-raid warning at 11 a.m to-day. This quickly got transformed into definite news that the Germans were coming at that time to drop bombs on us (So nice of them to give several days notice!) One whole village decided that it would be safer in Calcutta, so moved bodily down there. Many questions have been asked, chiefly, should the cows be brought into the houses. The first I heard of this was from an old dhirzie who has been working for me. A few days ago, he said he would not be able to come on Thursday, because that was the day on which the Germans would be coming to drop things on us from the sky, and he had been told that he must have bandages and iodine ready in his house. He seemed to take the matter comparatively quietly, and showed no marked relief when we told him that there were no Germans near, and that this was only a practise. Its a pity that more instruction which they would capable of understanding, cannot be given to them. What is going on in their minds, its difficult to fathom. Things like this make one realize the appaling difficulties of dealing with an illiterate populace like that of India. One can only hope and pray that no necessity will arise. We were visiting the French Administrator at Chandernagore yesterday, and he said cheerfully that “One bomb! Pouf! and Chandernagore would be empty!” He has not much opinion of the courage of the Bengalis.
We are losing our doctor, Capt Lossing at the end of this week, but we are greatly relieved to hear that another Englishman is coming. We had heard that we were only going to have an assistant Surgeon here. There is a farewell tea-party to him at the hospital to-morrow, and a farewell dinner in the evening.
The First Aid class has grown to twenty, which includes two more Indian ladies I am glad to say. I am sorry that I am going to miss four lectures.
This paper will be running out in a moment, so I will say good-bye for this week
Best love to you all
LJT