1940 January
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah Bengal
Jan 3rd 1940
My Dears,
This moment is a pause between two periods of activity. Four servants, and a chaprassi have just gone off in a bus with masses of luggage, starting for a tour which is to last just over three weeks. Those of you who know India will remember the strange bundles which always top a pile of luggage of this sort:- old kerosine tins for boiling bath water, stuffed with all kinds of oddments which will not go into the various boxes:- strange shapeless bundles of bedding belonging to the servants: a kettle hanging on the outside of some box, and so on and so on. Its a long time since we went on tour in this way, because we have stayed with the Collectors in most places before, but now we are going to small subdivisions for part of the time, where we stay in rest houses which will have little in the way of equipment. Herbert and I go this evening by car to Cossipore and H, has to see the Viceroy off from Howrah station this evening at 9.50. To-morrow the car is put on a train in the early morning, and we go a certain distance, till we have crossed the two big rivers that flow down to join the Hooghly, and which have no road bridges over the, and then we disembark ourselves and the car, and the rest of the tour we do by car.
Herbert and I dined with the Viceroy last night. It was rather a nice party. There were about 85 people there, and the long polished wood table with great silver bowls of mixed flowers all down it, looked fine. I don’t really think that silver dinner services look as nice as good china, but I suppose one should feel that there is a certain magnificence about it. Herbert, as he expressed it, drew a double six in his place at dinner as he took in a certain Mrs Kent, a most able and amusing woman, who always reminds us of Edith Evans, and on his other side he had our dear little friend, Louise Ranken. By contrast I might almost have been said to have drawn double blank, for I was taken in by the “Scheduled Cast” (formally “untouchable”) Minister, a little man called Mullick, who is so enormously pleased at being in the position that he is, that he is willing to laugh heartily at the smallest attempt at a joke. I know all the gambits with him so well that there was no difficulty in keeping him going. On my other hand was a well known Indian doctor, Sir Upendra Bramachari, whom I have also known for many years, and who is moderately interesting to talk to. You know at the Viceroy’s parties, the Vicereign walks out first and curtsies in the doorway to H.E. before leaving the dining room. The other ladies follow, and turn in the wide doorway two at a time and curtsey. My turn came very soon after Her Ex. and my “pair” was one of the Hope girls, the viceroy’s daughters. I found no difficulty in dropping a curtsey, but Herbert said that some of the ladies seemed greatly embarrassed, and wobbled about like anything. Lady Doreen Hope and I sat down on a sofa to-gether, and talked till the men came in. She was a pleasant girl and easy to talk to. After H.T. and the men had come in, she moved away, and different men were brought up by A.D.Cs and sat talking for awhile, and then I was taken up to talk to the viceroy, who is much more pleasant to talk to than he looks. Amongst other things we talked of the difficulty of people in high positions seeing things as they are. he says that the fact that he was out here before, is an infinite value to him, for he has at any rate some idea of what lies beneath the veneer put up for him to see, and he hopes he is not as easily hoodwinked as some people imagine. I wonder! We drove back here after dinner, and were home just before twelve. Herbert stood up to the evening remarkably well and does not seem too greatly tired this morning.
Our guests left us after lunch on the 1st Jan. Walter Jenkins was away for two nights with some other friends near by, and returned to us on Saturday. He and Anina and I went for a delightful walk on Saturday afternoon, and came back to tea by the fire, and a peaceful evening at home. We spent most of the day in the garden on Sunday, at least they did; I wrote letters till twelve o’clock, and then joined them under the trees, and guests arrived from Calcutta for lunch and tea, and in the evening we all dined with the D.I.G. of Police and his wife. Poor Mrs Mackenzie is one of the world’s worst hostesses, and neither her husband or her daughter took hold of the party. After dinner we played “Up Jenkins” for a little while, and then charades, but no “properties” of any sort were provided, so that it was difficult to do anything amusing. Even “seeing the New Year In” was a complete muddle. The Police Band came to play “Old Lang Syne”, but they started much too soon, and then played so slowly that it was almost impossible to drag out our attempt at singing to agree with them. One can only hope that Mrs M. did not herself realize what a flop her party was!
Herbert and I were down in Calcutta on Friday. Ages ago we had promised to lunch with the Whites (U.S.A. Consul General). They had a nice party mostly of Consular people, including the Dutch and the Jap C-Gs and wives. The Japs were a little difficult to talk to, but the Dutch people were charming. As we were in Calcutta, we thought we would go to see Ginger Rogers in “Fifth Avenue Girl”, which we found amusing and well worked out for about the first two thirds of the film. Then it became a bit dull, for it was obvious what the solution was going to be, and it seemed to us that the cast lost interest. We just had a cup of tea, and then came home. Anina had chosen to stay quietly out here. She had some translating work to do and said she had been happy all day working or reading in the garden.
I am looking forward to this tour, but I am very sorry to be leaving my garden just now. It is looking so pretty, and some things will be at their very best while I am away.
On this long tour, Herbert and I are going to try the experiment of talking French to one another while we are driving in the car. We did it yesterday all the way down to Calcutta, and got on quite well. I am sure it will be good for us, for Herbert knows a great many words, and I know a fair amount, but from lack of practice it is so difficult to bring the words up in to ones conscious mind when one wants them. Herbert’s latest craze of the Stars is still going strong, and he has learnt an enormous number of the constellations. he is taking his star maps out on tour, so that he may continue, and I may be encouraged to learn.
We are pleased to hear that H.D, and winsome are arriving out in Feb. I am only sorry that we are going to be on tour again so much in Feb, and may likely be away when they arrive. The new Bengal Governor is going to visit Burdwan, Bankura and Midnapore between the 12th and 23rd Feb, and we have to trail round too.
There’s the bell for washing hands for lunch, so its a good moment to end this.
Best love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Rosemary
Midnapore, Bengal
Bengal, Jan 5th, 1940
My Darling Romey,
Your exam results seemed good on the whole. To get 70% in Zoology when you only started it this term, and 60% in French when you only attend half the classes, is really good. Physics and Chemistry are not high marks, but both must be difficult subjects to start. The English is perhaps a little disappointing. You have never been as keen on reading and writing as the rest of the family, have you? I never had any trouble in getting high marks in History and English, but came down on French and Maths.
Did I tell you that I got another letter of yours last week that came by sea mail by mistake? It told about your outing with John Averil and another with Rosemary Earle, with an entertaining description about falling into the mud.
Poor Max (the dachsie dog) has been in the wars. Two days ago, when we were at Tamluk, he was bowled over and slightly bitten in the seat by a pie-dog. I soaked the place well with dettol. It bled very little, and I thought nothing of it, but put on more dettol the next day. Yesterday I noticed that it seemed a little swelled, and this morning it looked still more swelled, so I sent for the vet, who took Max along to his hospital, and put on hot boric compress, followed by iodine dressing. I have the under-sweeper here who went along with Max, and says that the vet got out a lot of puss. We are to ferment again this afternoon, and again tomorrow. I hope it is not going to turn really septic.
There are three small girls in this house, aged 6, 4, and 2. The four year old was sitting on her father’s knee beside me on the sofa yesterday, and she wanted to pat Max, so I told him to put his paws on the sofa, which brought his head into a convenient position for patting.
In a few minutes I have to change into my Guide uniform, as I am going out immediately after lunch to inspect a Bluebird flock. I hope you get some riding during the holidays, and enjoy yourself.
Best love, my darling
Mother
Family letter from LJT
Midnapore
Bengal
Jan 8th 1940
My Dears,
Its fun being out on tour again, especially revisiting places I knew so long ago. We went down to Cossipore on the evening of the 3rd. For once the Viceroy could not have fixed his arrival or departure more conveniently for us, since we had to leave Howrah ourselves at 8.45 the next morning, and the car had to be at the station at 7 a.m. to be loaded on to a truck. The train had just come in when we arrived, about ten minutes before the advertized time of departure. The Driver went off to see whether the truck had been attached and found that it had not been. Herbert sent for the Station Superintendent, who came and was very worried and full of apologies. Finally the train was kept waiting for half an hour while the truck was fetched round from the other side of the station, and attached to our train. I don’t know what all the other miserable passengers thought. It was a journey of an hour and a half to the place where we were going to disembark the car. Max, who had been quite happy as long as the train was standing still, became terrified as soon as we started moving. He squeezed up against me trembling with fear, and panting, with drops falling from his mouth, although the morning was definitely cold. its strange how trains alarm him. At Paunchkura station the young magistrate from Tamluk, the place we were going to visit, was waiting for us, having come the sixteen miles to greet us, which seemed almost super-polite. Actually it was extremely convenient, because he took us along straight away in his car, and we did not have to wait for the unloading of our own. It was a pretty rural drive, and I was glad to find the little bungalow where we were to stay at Tamluk was right out of the town, and that it had a pretty view across the great river Rupnarayan. We had an early lunch and a short rest, and then Herbert went off inspecting and I settled down to an afternoon’s writing, but it was not long before I was disturbed. My first visitor was an old Babu who was Herbert’s head clerk at Contai twenty five years ago. The poor old boy has retired long since, and has got very old and shakey, and a bit deaf, so conversation is rather difficult, and the harmony of the meeting somewhat spoilt by his importunities that we should find a job for one of his sons. I had scarcely got rid of him when Mr and Mrs Sen, the District Magistrate of Midnapore and his wife arrived. They had come down to Tamluk to make arrangements for the governor’s visit next month. They are a delightful couple, and our present host and hostess. I knew him quite well, for we had met often in Calcutta some years ago, and he was a member of the Forest Committee, and travelled round with us last January. His wife is a delightful woman, and I enjoyed talking to them. After tea, Herbert and I set out for a walk and thought we would go down to the river which looked about half a mile away, but we found our selves cut off from it by a tidal stream. However we had a pleasant stroll along the banks of it.
The following morning, I took Max for a brisk walk after breakfast and we both enjoyed ourselves. It was much colder in Tamluk than it has been in Chinsurah or Calcutta, and the air was lovely. The people we met, looked with some interest at me, but with much more at Max. There is a good deal of uncertainty about whether he can be a dog. I had a quiet day and got a lot of writing done. We were entertained to tea by the local club, all Indian gentlemen. As such shows go it was rather a nice little party. In the evening we dined with the Acharyas, the Subdivisional officer and his wife. The name is pronounced “Aachaajo”. He is a young brother of my old friend Mrs Haldar, and his late father was one of the leading men in the Brahmo Samaj, the great movement for the reform of Hinduism at the end of the last century. it is a treat to meet some young Indians in the I.C.S. who are of good family and education. Luckily he has married a most suitable girl, who was for two years at school in Germany. On our second day there, Max and I went for quite a long walk after breakfast. We were walking fast for one and a quarter hours, so must have gone at least four miles. We passed through a village where the people were evidently weavers. They were spinning, dying, and setting up the threads for the looms. An old man asked me if Max was a “Bosha kukur” (Pet dog) and then passed the information on to all his friends. Great merriment was caused by two young goats, who were so interested in Max that they followed us out of the village for quite a distance, resisting all my efforts to send them home. When the situation was realized by the inhabitants, two young boys ran after me and seized the persistant goats, while chuckles of laughter went up from the on-lookers. Our only other adventure was having to cross one of the little tidal streams which abound in that part of the world, on a bridge made of a fallen palm tree. I was afraid Max would funk it, and I did not feel inclined to carry a wriggling dog, weighing a considerable amount, over the narrow path, with feet and fee of mud below me. Fortunately he trotted over without any trouble. I found it really most enjoyable to be walking again. The members of the Municipality threw a tea-party for us that afternoon, on which I am afraid they must have spent quite a lot of money, for they had a lot of Firpo’s cakes and sandwiches, and they had a huge elaborate basket of Roses and chrysnathemums in the middle of the table which they gave to me afterwards. Nearly all the poor flowers had been decapitated and fixed on wires and were useless to put into water. Its sad when they will spend money so badly needed for other things, on that short of luxurious tea. its hard to stop them, for apparantly their own honour is more deeply concerned than the pleasure of their guests.
Oweing to the tea party, Herbert was not able to finish off his inspection that evening, and had to do another hour after breakfast in the morning. I spent the time visiting the hospital, and then waiting for him at the Acharayas house, where the poor Max had a terrible fright. The Acharayas have a young Great Dane, only about eight months old and very playful. Max showed no fear when they met, and they stood sniffing noses for a moment or two. Then the pup crouched down with his great head on his paws, the preliminary to most games, and bounded at Max. Maxie fled with a thin squeak, dodging the big dog round the chairs and tables in the drawing room, till the big dog was caught and tied up. Once he was safely tethered, Max felt brave again, and said some rude things to him off the back verandah.
We left Tamluk about 10.15 and had a delightful drive here, which took us just over two hours, and included the crossing of two rivers by ferry. My memories of Midnapore are very hazy. I have not seen much of the station yet, but I am going round to pay some calls this afternoon, and may have clearer recollections of the Judge’s house, where we stayed several times after we had gone down to Contai. Mr and Mrs Sen are the most comfortable host and hostess, and most considerate about Herbert’s food etc. There are three small girls, the eldest of whom is six, but they are not at all typical of Indian children for they do not seem to be a bit spoilt.
I have just finished reading an interesting, but rather depressing book about Russia, called “I was a Soviet Worker”, by Andrew Smith. It is published by the Right Book-Club. I wonder whether any of you have come across it. If the picture it gives of conditions in Russia is anywhere near the truth, it is no wonder that the Russian Armies have not distinguished themselves in Finland! Andrew Smith was an enthusiastic member of the Communist party in America, and went with his wife and some friends to live and work in Russia. This is the tale of his bitter disillusionment. Its worth reading, for its written by a man who sacrificed everything he had to go to Russia, and who went expecting and hoping for wonderful things. So many books written against Communism one feels that the writers had made up their minds before they began, and were not willing to find anything good.
In these quiet out-of-the-way places the war seems more unreal than ever. When I say quiet and out-of-the-way, Midnapore may be out-of-the-way, but at times it has been anything but quiet. It has been the worst hot-bed of sedition, and three District Magistrates have been murdered here. It seems quiet enough at present, but they still keep a regiment here.
This letter is written rather early in the week, but I have all sorts of engagements to-morrow. I am to visit the hospital in the morning, and inspect a girl Guide Co and a Bluebird Flock in the afternoon, and the following day we go down to Contai, returning here three days later.
Best love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Midnapore
Jan 9th 1940
My darling Annette,
I owe you an apology for writing nothing worth mentioning to you for the past two weeks. I wish I had the gift of not allowing myself to get involved in so many things that I become over-busy, and have no time for the things I really want to attend to. I enjoyed my Christmas party, but combined with the stuff that has to go in to the Himalayan Club at the end of the year, and the fact that I was making all the arrangements for this long and rather complicated tour, made me absolutely full up with things which appeared to me to be urgent.
I think I told Aunt last week that I had received a lovely envelope full of letters from you all, which came by sea mail, as she forgot to put the 1/3 stamp on it. It contained an especially amusing letter from you written on Dec 3rd – perhaps the things you talk about such as your tutorials would seem stale to you if I comment now, but I do enjoy hearing about them. It was also amusing to hear the question as to what hour was fixed for the return to college, was settled in your favour, by a misunderstanding.
Our host here, Mr Sen, is an interesting talker. he is one of the older Indian I.C.S. men, who was at an English University, and who lives in European fashion, but he is devoted to his country all the same. He disapproves most warmly of the methods of the Congress, and still more of the Muslim League. If India had a larger proportion of men such as he, with wives such as his wife, self Government would present no special difficulties. Personally I feel so much more at one with people of this type, though they are Indians, than I do with many of my own country-men. Intellectually and aesthetically we talk the same language. There were another Indian couple dining here last night:- a Doctor in the I.M.S. who, until recently was in the R.A.M.C., with a very nice wife. They have been all over northern and Central India from time to time, and are both intelligent people. Mrs Chaudhuri belongs to the Tagore family, that is she is some relation of the poet, and they are mostly very advanced and cultured people. She was at one of the London University Colleges, and said last night that she found London a most friendly place and never felt lonely. She travelled a good bit on the Continent mostly under the auspices of the National Union of Students. I like meeting Indian women of this sort.
I have been talking to the Sens about the book “I was a Soviet Worker” which I speak about in the family letter, and Mr Sen says he has recently been reading a book by a Russian, living in Moscow, which gives a very similar picture of fearful lack of organization, want, poverty, and gross seizing of all privileges by the officials. it seems terribly sad that this great experiment, which seemed to hold such real ideals for the workers should have developed into rule by a greedy and inefficient beaurcracy so soon.
These next two terms will be pretty busy ones for you, I suppose. Its odd how quickly your time at Oxford seems to be passing. Has it seemed short to you too?
Last week I had a long letter from Mrs Hamilton, giving news of all the family’s doings. She spoke kindly of her refugees, though apparantly they were almost devoid of clothing, and she says she has made more pairs of small trousers in her life before, as in the last few months.
Best love and blessings be upon you
Mother
From LJT to Annette
Camp Contai
Midnapore Dist.
Bengal
Jan 11th 1940
My darling Annette
It is only a couple of days since I posted the mail for England, but since, for the last few weeks, I always seem to get rushed and am unable to write properly on the appointed day, I thought I would take the opportunity of a quiet evening to get some letters written.
This week’s batch of letters arrived just after I had given mine to the chaprassi to post. They are the ones telling about Christmas. I confess that directly I heard that auntie May was not going to be present I thought you would be able to have a happier time! It seems unkind to think it – but its so true – She has always had a certain ability to make other people feel a little uncomfortable. When Aunt and I were young, we were always glad when she did not come to picnics and things. I don’t quite know why! I was glad to get the news from you that the poor Perkin had got up and eaten her food by herself. It would have been a great grief to Rosemary if she had died. We were both immensley pleased at your story of the Countess of Carrick getting lip-stick all over the operation stockings! It seems a strange feat.
Its funny how I am always picturing the days ahead when I am going to have plenty of leisure. I thought I should have long hours for reading on this trip – but they have not materialized – Visitors, tea-parties, dining out – and earlier in the day, visits to schools and hospitals and Girl Guides, take up an awful lot of time – However I have read “I was a Soviet Worker” – I’m nearly through Cronin’s book “The Stars Look Down” – (Very much better than “The Citadel”) I’ve now started one of my Christmas present books, “Insanity Fan” – by Douglas Reed – Have you read it? I’ve seen it in so many houses out here lately – It opens well, with a bird’s eye view of his life, which, as far as I have got, has carried him through “the War called Great” and he has now gone out to Germany as one of the “times” correspondants – Walter Jenkins gave me the book for Christmas – and its sequel “Disgrace Abounding” for my birthday – Do you love seeing new books in their clean paper jackets? It always gives me a sort of glow of expectation. At the same time, I am taking a book on Yoga in very small doses, but it does not seem to go with my other reading at the moment nor with this life on tour – nor yet with the mood of the world. There is a lot of wisdom in it. It is compiled from the answers written by a man called Sri Aurobindo to students and seekers after the meditative way of life. Sri Aurobindo founded an Ashram in or near Pondicherry. He spends much of his time in meditation and only speaks on one day a week, or something of that sort – but he answers many of those who seek his advice by writing. It seems a strange way of living – A man must have travelled very far along the path of righteousness, to justify such a method of life. The believers in this sort of thing, say that that is so – and that there is little danger to the world of an excess of people adopting this passive way of living for so few are capable of it.
Your criticism of “The Lion has Wings” is shrewd – Why – of why, don’t they get more intelligent people to plan these things? As you say there is so much really sound material that can be used to make out the case against Germany and it just makes one irritated to see futile propogander. Last week I forgot to tell you two small stories told to me by a teacher at St. Thomas School (Anglo Indian girls) who takes the Matric class – She had read Keats “Ode to Autumn” and asked for opinions on it – One girl spoke up. “I don’t care for it much” she said “Its all about fruit and vegetables” – The other was in written work discussing movements and mixtures of races. The following statement was made – “The French settled in Africa and intermarried with the negros, thus producing the Anglo-Indians” Most of the girls in that school have no intellectual background at all and come from dreadful homes. it must be rather disheartening work trying to teach them –
No more room on the paper! so best love – Mother
Family letter from LJT
Midnapore
Bengal
Jan 16th 1940
(Aunt has written on the top ‘Richard – Please send to Aunt May’)
My Dears,
Our visit to our old home at Contai was great fun, though it was hard work for Herbert, because besides all his inspections, he had to make time to receive a hord of callers, and on two of the three afternoons that we were there, we were entertained to tea parties, one day by the local Bar (Its quite astonishing how many legal people even a small place like Contai supports) - - and on another day by the local gentlemen. What a contrast the journey to Contai is now from what it was in our day. We used to have to take train from Midnapore to a junction on the main line, and there change in another train for a place called Belda. From there we had a thirty eight mile ride, half of which we used to do one evening, the rest the next morning. Now we step into a car in Midnapore, and in 2 ½ hours we arrive at Contai, the road being very good most of the way. Herbert was full of memories of things that had happened or cases he had tried at different spots all along the road. He remembered an incident that took place right at the end of our time there, when we had bought a car, there was a case going on between two widows, so-called Ranis, about their late husband’s property. The elder Rani caused the present of a young black goat to be introduced into Herbert’s car in the hope of influencing him on her behalf, while the younger sent a gift of a monstrous fish. There was a tremendous hurush getting the fish and the goat ejected from the car.
Many of the people we knew at Contai are still alive, and so are some of our old servants. We arrived in time for lunch, and Herbert came out of office in time to have a walk round the place after tea. After that he had no time to himself the other two days, but I went for a walk after breakfast the first day, and on the second, taking Mogul with me, I went in the car six miles down to the sea. The road, which used to be impassable for a car in our time, is now quite good in the dry seasons. The beach is one of those tremendous stretches of flat sand, mixed here with enough Ganges mud to make it firm for walking, and Maxie and I had a lovely walk. He was a bit surprised by the sea, and would not go in far.
We got back here in time for lunch on Saturday, and I went off at 3.30 to go for a walk with my mountaineering friends, the John Hunts. There is a lot of wild dried up undulating country round here, and a rather delightful river, so we started along its banks, and circled inland again, getting back to the Hunts House for tea just a dusk. They are a dear couple and their small daughter aged fifteen months, is an amusing little card. She has no fear at all of animals. She immediately tried to pick Maz up, but as he is a solid animal, not much smaller in bulk than herself, she did not succeed. She then made an attempt to mount him, but she could not lift her stout little leg sufficiently high to get over even Max’s back, without toppling over.
I have to hurry on with this, for we are leaving here after an early lunch to-day, and I shall have no time to-morrow at Bishnupore, where we only spend one day, and I have to visit a Guide Co and a Bluebird Flock, attend an official tea-party, and see again the old ruined temples which saw very hurridly when out with the forest Committee last year. I also want to visit the silk weaving place, for Bishnupore is a spot where the old silk weaving industry of Bengal has always hung on.
We have had a pleasant time in Midnapore. Mr and Mrs Sen are the most charming and considerate host and hostess that you can imagine. Knowing that Herbert does not like late nights, but also realizing that the people in the station would expect to meet us, she arranged a cocktail party which managed the whole thing beautifully. Mrs Sen and I have done all manner of things. We inspected a Guide Co and Flock here one afternoon, and yesterday morning we drove out about twenty miles to see another company in rather a wild place in the west of the district, at an American Mission which works amongst the primitive Santhal people. On Sunday morning we went about the same distance to a delightful place, where a training school and home for training young widows, has just been built. The future inhabitants, who are to be trained as school teachers, are arriving from the old and inadequate quarters which they have been inhabiting in Calcutta on Feb 1st. The Secretary of the Widows home, is also the manager for the local raja, and we helped to choose new curtains for the guests rooms at the palace, while we refreshed ourselves with coffee. There have been visits to hospitals, a Durbar, at which Herbert distributed rewards for good work to minor district officials, and a cocktail party at the Civil Surgeon’s house, so even my time has been pretty full, and Herbert has been kept busy even when he is not slogging away at inspecting the offices.
I’m sorry but I have to stop. I had thought to have plenty of leisure for writing on this tour, but it is proving far otherwise.
Oh! We have decided not to take leave in April. Herbert was asked to give a definite decision, as the hot-weather postings are being planned. We feel that the time when a War is in progress is not a suitable one at which to take leave. Its sad that we shant see you all in 1940, but I am sure we are doing the right thing.
Best love to you all
LJT
Family letter from LJT
Camp. Bankura
Bengal
Jan 21st 1940
My Dears,
This is the last port of call on our long tour. We are staying in the roomy and comfortable Circuit House, though the Haldars, the Collector and his wife, kindly invited us to stay with them. Herbert prefers to be free and independent when he is inspecting, and I am glad to have a little more time to myself. We stayed with the Haldars when we came here with the Forest Committee last year, and shall be staying with them next month when we come here in attendance on the Governor and his Lady, who are visiting Burdwan, Bankura and Midnapore. This is a delightful district in the Cold Weather, though it gets very hot in Summer. It has a number of Hills in the western and southern part, and most of it is a bit undulating.
We enjoyed our two days in Bishnupore. We left Midnapore after lunch on the 16th and arrived in Bishnupore in time for tea. My hope of going for a walk that evening, was brought to naught by the arrival of Mr Haldar and his daughter Lakshmi, who happened to be on some duty or other near by, and thought they would look in to see whether we had arrived. We stayed in a comfortable Railway Rest House, of a much nicer design than most of the Public Works Dept: bungalows. I went off immediately after breakfast the morning, to wander round the ruins, rejecting the offer of a Guide, as I felt I would rather take my own time and look at what attracted me, with the help of the District Gazeteer and a local chapprassi. Our present driver is a well-educated Hindu, and he was thrilled at having such a place to visit. Bishnupore is a place with a long and interesting history. The founding of its line of Kings is lost in ancient myth, but it is clear that, protected by several large rivers, and by Forest covered hills, this tract of country was an independent kingdom under a long line of kings for many hundreds of years before the Moguls were ruling in Delhi. Even when that great dynasty conquered Bengal, they respected the Kingdom of Bishnupore and though they extracted tribute, they did not put in any of their own collectors, and the Raja was not made to bring the Tribute in person. Later they resisted the attacks of the Mahrattas for many years, but eventually partly owing to an excess of religion, it seems, and to a series of two or three weak kings, the then Rajas of Burdwan nicked off a good deal of the kingdom of the north and east, while the Mahrattas harried them from the west and south. They sought the protection of the British, but later failing to pay their revenue taxes, most of the property was sold by auction, and bought by the Rajas of Burdwan, who still own it. The present little raja, heir to all these old fighting kings, still lives here, on the rents of a small amount of land, most of which he spends in religious festivals, so that he is badly off for his personal needs. He gets a small allowance from the Maharaja of Burdwan, and is begging the British Government to give him something, but the Government say, if he is so poor, let him spend less on these religious doings. He says he is compelled to spend this money on the Gods, that his people expect it. Government says, if the people want all these tamashas, let them pay for them themselves.
The area where the old temples and what little remains of the palace, stand, is outside the present town. There are still twelve temples scattered about inside the lines of the old fortifications. There are several big lakes and two fine red stone gateways. The earliest of the temples now standing dates from the beginning of the seventeenth century, and is of beautifully carved brick. Others are of the local red stone, and all are carved to a greater or lesser degree. All are dedicated to Krishna in one of his many forms, and most of the incidents depicted are scenes from his different lives. The images are now all collected to-gether in a temple near the Raja’s present house. When we got there, the little raja was waiting for me, one of his servants having given him notice of my arrival. He is a tiny little chap, coming about to my shoulder in height, and with a squeaky voice. He greeted me with the gift of a pink rose, and just as we were starting to talk in Hindustani, for he cant speak English, the Deputy Magistrate who is in charge of Bishnupore and his wife arrived. While we were all talking to-gether, there was a tremendous bang, which made us all jump. The little Raja beamed with pleasure and said that it was his cannon that he had ordered to be fired in my honour. We were treated to two more bangs, before he felt that honour was satisfied. Mr Mitra went off to his work, but Mrs Mitra, a jolly soul who can understand a bit of English, but cannot speak it, but speaks Hindi, stayed with me. We did the rest of the sightseeing to-gether, accompanied by the Raja. Mrs Mitra was well up in the stories of the gods, and was a good companion. The Raja had the locked doors of the temple containing the images, opened for me, and showed off his gods with pride.
Mrs Mitra and I later went to the silk shop, where the owner immediately engaged me in conversation about the shape and design of the scarf he is going to present to Her Excellency when she comes round. I rode him off some modern designs on which he was rather keen, but which might equally well have come from England or France, and advised a small pattern based on the peacock’s tail, with a border design based on the lotus, both things typically Indian. They make a great many sorts of silk here, and do a great deal of hand printing. I confess it seems an awful waste of time to do anything by such a laborious method, when it can be done much better and infinitely faster by machine. I contented myself by buying some handkerchiefs and some pale pink silk for a petticoat. I was glad to get home soon after twelve, and sit down for a little while before lunch, as I had to be with the Girl Guides at 2.30, spend an hour and a half with them, then I went back to the house, picking up Herbert at the office en route, change and be at a tea-party by 4.30. These tea-parties by local gentlemen are a bit trying as a rule. They always make Herbert and myself sit side by side at a high table, with half a dozen chosen people, and the rest of our hosts sit at other tables, and we practically dont get a chance to speak to them. I hope it gives them some sort of satisfaction to have us there, - - at least a feeling that they have done their duty, for I cant believe it is really much of a pleasure to them.
We stayed in Bishnupore till after lunch the next day. I went to inspect the hospital the next day, and found a dreadful little place, with only one patient in it, and she a girl of twelve who had been badly burned. The doctor seemed to me a most inefficient creature, and everything in his charge very grubby. I asked whether the lack of patients meant that Bishnupore was a healthy place, to which he replied that it was not, but that the people would not come to the Hospital because they are afraid of ghosts! There may be some truth in it, for many of the people here are the primitive Santhals and Bauries, who are great people for ghosts and witches and the evil eye, but at the same time other hospitals working amongst these people get over their fears, and I fear the fault is that the man is lazy and incompetent. It was disappointing, for in the other places we have been in the hospitals have improved so much, and it seems to me that the standard of the Assistant Surgeons and Subassistant Surgeons, has gone up enormously during the last fifteen years. This man was quite elderly, and I suppose his incompetence is the reason why he has not risen to be an Assistant Surgeon, but has stuck on as a “sub” in a little out-of-the-way place.
We had lunch rather early, and hurried along here to be in time for a sort of Military Tattoo staged by the Regiment from Midnapore who are doing a Flag March through this district. It was quite a good show, and crowd evidently liked it, especially the last item but one, when a party of travellers, with a dancing girl, were attacked by Afgans, and robbed, and while they were sitting feasting and gloating over their booty, troops appeared and drove them off. As they fled, being pursued by the Bombay Grenadiers, firing at their flying figures, a number of small boys who were sitting on the part of the ground where the fugitives fled, joined in the rout, to the great delight of the crowd. Several of us, including the Col. of the Regiment, whom we had already met in Midnapore, went to the Haldars for tea.
Mrs. Haldar, besides many other accomplishments, is an excellent cook, and as well as very good English style sandwiches and cake, she had a few of the Indian things that I like; thin, thin flour and water pastry slightly salted and spiced, called “nimkie” (Salties) and small three-cornered pastry puffs, filled with spiced green peas, called “singari”. There are a lot of these salt or spicy Indian things that I find very good, but I can’t cope with the sweet-meats.
I have been doing a good many of the usual things here, that is seeing the hospital and the Infant Welfare Clinic, where Max was an enormous success with the babies. Max, by the way, has just received news that he is a father. Wendy has produced three pups, two boys and a girl, mother and children are all doing well!
Mrs Haldar and I spent a long time the first evening I was here in a fascinating place, the shop of a big hand-loom weaving concern. They make delightful cotton materials of many sorts, and some silk and wool things as well. I got some bed covers there last year, and have found them most satisfactory. I have just ordered some big dining-table cloths and napkins for Grace, in many coloured pale stripes, which I think will look rather pretty. They will make things here any size, and in any colouring one wants. We were also ordering new curtains for this Circuit House for the governor’s visit. The only English officer here is the policeman, but the Indian Officials are very nice. The Haldars (he is District Magistrate) are old friends of ours. The Judge, curiously enough also named Haldar, is also a nice man, with a very advanced wife. I should almost think she has been educated in Europe. She is impatient of the slowness with which her countrywomen are coming out of purdah, and with the way that so many cast prejudices hang on. I said I thought it was a mistake to try to change too fast, and that I saw an enormous change in both things during the years I had been out here. She is keen about literary matters, and we had a lot of talk about books, in company with the young Assistant Magistrate, recently back from England, where he took his degree and passed into the I.C.S. Indeed the standard of intellect amongst the women as well as the men here seems very high. Lakshmi Haldar, the daughter, has recently taken her M.A. and is a clever and charming girl, and extremely pretty into the bargain.
We dined with the Haldars the night after we arrived, and yesterday the local club invited us to tea. We sat and watched the tennis for a little while. The standard was quite high. Later we went indoors and had really rather a nice party, for we sat in the middle of the side of a very long and rather narrow table, so that it was possible to talk across it. Also we were divided by some of the local people, and opposite to Herbert was a local landlord of some standing, who is a great theorist about agriculture, and is always trying to plan for the uplift of his people. He is also a great talker, so the two of them had tremendous discussions while, for the most part the people sitting in their neighbourhood, listened with obvious interest, and threw in occasional comments. Something of the same sort happened down on my half of the table, where I was talking chiefly to the Judge’s wife and the young magistrate. I tried to draw some of the men sitting the other side of the table into the conversation, but I did not succeed, though I think a good many of them were listening, as I talked of the reasons for the agricultural decay of so much of Western Bengal, and Herbert’s great scheme as a cure.
I am writing earlier than ever this week, for I go off to a place about thirty miles away early to-morrow morning, to inspect Guides and Bluebirds, and stay a night with the Missionary’s wife, who is Guide Commissioner for this and Midnapore Districts. Herbert comes down the following day to open and see an agricultural exhibition, and I dont suppose we shall be back here till fairly late in the evening. On the one remaining day here, I have engagements all afternoon, Guides and Bluebirds again, and a tea with their officers afterwards, and I know there will be packing and odd things to see to in the morning.
There have been lost of nice letters and cards from home lately. May sent a charming little picture of the Blue Tit, which we have always held in special affection since reading White’s description of it in his Natural History of Selbourne, as “a vast admirer of suet.”
Best love
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Camp; Bankura
Bengal
Jan 21st 1940
(Handwritten by LJT at top of letter: ‘Thanks for letting me know about Miss Street – I’ve not got my English cheque book with me, but will try to remember to send a cheque next week. LJT)
My darling Annette,
Far from being a disadvantage getting several letters from the same house, we find it amusing and interesting, for each personality reports the life from a slightly different angle, and the composite picture so made, is quite a vivid one. You never seem to lack diversions of one sort or another in Leighs. Its interesting that a country place should apparantly provide more in the way of sociabilities than the suburbs of London. I am thinking of the Bently family in Croydon, and the report they gave of so little in the way of local entertaining of any sort.
I shall be interested to hear whether you went to see Edith Cavell, and if so what you thought of it. I thought it very good.
The other day I was sorry to be dragged away from an amusing conversation with the young Assistant Magistrate (Indian) and the Judge’s wife, also Indian) on the subject of modern poetry. We were just well away, each airing our own views, and thoroughly enjoying ourselves, when we had to part. In our life out here, one has to put up with such a lot of manufactured talk, in which little in the way of ideas are either given or received, that it is a nuisence when one is having a lively talk, to be dragged away from it. Young Sen is rather a charming lad, - - good looking, - nice manners, - - keen on his work and his people, - - though sad at their backwardness and lack of “guts”, - - in fact the sort who should make a good district officer, if he has the strength of character to stand up both to the dishonesty of the ministers above him, and the importunities of the people below. He took his degree in London and has just come out from that extra year at Oxford which the men who pass into the I.C.S. have to have. He still has the University habit of enjoying a discussion for the discussion’s sake, and thing which I think many men lose as they grow older and more and more over-worked.
I wonder whether the war sometimes begins to seem unreal to you? It often does to me, but then we are so far away. The thing that most often comes to my mind is the awful cold and hunger the miserable Russian troops must be suffering. I wish one could feel that the people who sent them into this war, were suffering some of the hardships with them, but I expect that they are living in reasonable comfort in Moscow or Leningrad. Of course I am sorry for the Finns too, but it seems that they know what they are doing and, in so far as it is possible, are equipped to face the cold, and that they are not starving. Of course, too, I am thankful every time the Finns gain an advantage, but it does’nt prevent me feeling sorry for the wretched Russian troops, who, I suspect, have been sent to the front like so many cattle, with little or no idea why they are fighting. Thinking about Germany now, is rather like trying to think about a thick fog. Reports are so contradictory, and so little is known for certain, that everything is shrouded in mist or in mystery.
These next two terms, will be pretty busy ones for you, I suppose. We are not coming home this year, as I said in my letter last week, but that does not alter the various suggestions that I made during 1939, to the effect that we were prepared to give you another year to train either for the Civil Service exam, or whatever else you later think you would like to take up. Luckily Aunt and Uncle seem quite prepared to go on acting as proxy parents and giving you a home till such time as we can leave India.
Romey seems to have developed more real interest in her work now. She write especially of zoology, as if it were something that had attracted her real attention. I hope she wont want to take up a groom’s job as a career.!
We have to dine at the Haldars again to-night, much to Dad’s grief, for he does so hate being up late. I rather fear it will be a dullish party, because we dined there two nights ago, and I think the most interesting people were there then, and to-night it will be the Missionaries, who though worthy folk are not very thrilling.
For some reason it always amuses me to think of Dad and myself being regarded as important people, but we used to look on visiting Commissioners in that sort of way when we were younger.
Here’s the end of the paper, and so, farewell and my love.
Mother
From LJT to Romey
Bankura, Jan 24th, 1940
My Darling Romey,
I wrote you a letter by hand yesterday, but find that it makes the letter overweight, so I am putting it in the letter to go by sea, and just hasten off these few lines to you, to tell you of my affection and that the lack of a letter is not because I have forgotten! In a few minutes I have to go and change into my Girl Guide clothes, and go to inspect a company and a Flock. Although I have enjoyed this tour, I shall be glad to be home tomorrow, and to see my own house and garden, the garden especially.
It’s sad that we have had to make up our minds not to come home this year, but after all, it is a small sacrifice compared with what many people are doing for the sake of the War. I hope my letter by sea won’t take too long, not that there’s much of interest in it.
Best love,
Mother
From HPV to Annette
Chinsurah
Jan 28th 1940
My darling daughter
Some people when asked agreeable questions about Perseus would have set themselves to study the celestial globe and qualified themselves to engage in rational conversation. Me, I despise cheap back-chat. Yet it is true that the giraffe has become hard to distinguish owing to its standing now upon its back. I have attained to a certain proficiency in the matter of the constellations, having learnt all those in sight worth learning and a few that are not worth it. But not from any astronomical interest: it is more akin to heraldry. And there is a pleasure in seeing through clouds a solitary star and saying it must be this or that, to find later (when clouds clear off) that it is so.
Home is the wanderer and glad to be so. There is a defect in my constitution. A cog or two missing that could slow down the works. I have toiled like mad all this month and thereby not cleared off work but piled it up. Inspecting with me is like digging with a terrier: we do not know what we are after but sometimes turn up interesting things. Only, when I turn up interesting things, I have to devise means to put them to rights. Would that I could give them a twist and a backbreak, and dispose of them offhand.
Maxie has grown fat or lazy on his travels. He hesitates now before trying to leap on to his chair (he has to mount a chair by the wall at meal-times to keep him from squirrel chasing and from getting under the feet of servants) and yesterday failed to achieve the leap until the second attempt. I gaze upon him with open disgust.
My crop forecasting from rain-statistics has been justified. Some months ago I decided that the crop would be bad in Contai and felt rather daunted when the reports came in that it was good: now the reports are that after thrashing it proved poor. And I can look myself in the face again: no one else is interested, so there was no public shame or public rehabilitation. Really, it is interesting when anything of this kind works out right. Like Richard’s Maths. Isn’t it fine that one of the Million for whom the book was written actually started reading it – and found it thrilling? Writing that question mark makes me think what a pity it is that the head of Leo with Regulus as the point at the bottom is not the other way round (five dots drawn in the shape of a question mark) instead of (five dots drawn in the shape of a reversed question mark), a great question mark in the heavens and a challenge to the irreligious. What does a reversed question symbolize? It is too misty these days to star gaze with profit and I have not seen Regulus this week.
Adieu Adieu. Continue your letter writing
Dad.
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
Jan 31st 1940
My dears,
It does seem a long time since I wrote my last home letter. Actually it is ten days, but it seems more, for we have been about so much since. My visit to the remote Missionary settlement in the south of Bankura District was very enjoyable. It was a pretty drive through undulating country, with quite sizable hills in the distance. There was a lot of Forest, and some big ponds or small lakes of nice natural shapes, and not the square affairs which have been dug all over Bengal proper, often in order to get enough earth on which to build a house above water level of the Rainy season. Most of the people about were Santals, with bows and arrows in their hands, and their hunting dogs following them. I reached my destination in time for the sort of “brunch” meal at 11.30 which used to be the usual thing in India, but which one rarely comes across now. The missionaries adhere to it, for it fits in with the times at which Indians ordinarily feed, and they have to arrange the school hours according to when they can get the children. I liked my host and hostess very much. They seemed a sensible and practical pair, and made me feel completely at home at once. The Wesleyan Mission in Bankura has been established for a great many years and run a College as well as schools. The mission at Sarenga, 36 miles away, is a branch of the old Mission, and they run a boys school and a girls school, and a big hospital. Its surprising to see the big hospital building out in the wilds, and nice to see a place so well run. Their work is almost entirely amongst the primitive Santali people. When I went over the hospital the doctor told me that directly the patients feel a little better, its almost impossible to keep them in bed. They go out and sit on the verandahs or out to the rows of little kitchens, (for the hospital cannot afford to feed the patients and each brings a relative, who cooks for them and often helps to look after them.)
My hostess, Mrs Culshaw, is the District Commissioner for the Girl Guides for the two neighbouring districts of Midnapore and Bankura. I had already seen a good many of the companies which come under her jurisdiction, and we had a long talk after “brunch” about the guides. Then I had to change into uniform, and be ready to see the local Guides at 2 o’clock. They were such a jolly lot of Santal girls, and quite well up in their work, and the hour and a half I spent with them slipped away very quickly. The officers came to tea afterwards, and then, as the Culshaws have not got a car, I asked if Mrs C and her small eight year old son would like to go for a drive. We went about half a dozen miles to a big river, now shrunken to a moderate sized stream, meandering in the middle of its huge sandy bed. We took a little Bengali boy, son of one of the school teachers, with us too, and the lads were very delighted, because they found an old Santal, who showed them where they could wade across the river. It was so pretty down there with the white sand and the blue water, the green of the sal forests near by and the hills in the distance, and so peaceful. The very idea of war seemed incomprehensible, and yet that country has all been fought over time and time again. Hindu King has fought with Hindu King. Mohammaden Conqueror has overrun Hindu Bengal, and Mahratta Hindus have raided and plundered Hindu Bengal slipping from the failing hand of the Mogul Empire. The peace is therefore, not much more than an illusion, but a very lovely one.
The next morning, I saw the Bluebird Flock, and went round the “Model Village” in which the girls live, instead of having one big “pukka” boarding house. The local people complained that when the girls had been at school, they did not make good wives, for they did not like living in mud houses, and they were not accustomed to cooking and housekeeping. Now the girls have this charming village of mud and thatch huts, and do all their own cooking, and after five years of trial, it seems to be working extremely well. I also went over the hospital, and still have time for another talk and a mid-day cup of tea with Mrs Culshaw, before we went off to have a short rest, and change, to be ready to receive Herbert and Mr and Mrs Haldar, who were due between 3 and 3.15. Herbert was to open the local Agricultural Exhibition. Such a thing as an Agricultural Exhibition had never been known before in this remote place, and the people were streaming in all day, and in many cases I daresay they were quite prepared to stay for the four days which the exhibition was to stay open. As we went into the Exhibition, we were greeted by a Santal dance, twenty men or so, dressed in white dhotis, and with big bunches of peacock’s feathers bound on to their heads by a white fillet, and accompanied by four or five drummers. The dancers were in a half circle, and advanced to wards the drummers, who also danced, stamping their feet, and twirling round, and retreating and advancing again. Like so many of these sort of primitive dances, there seems to be no beginning or ending, and one just says when one has had enough. If the dancers are plied with drink they are willing to go on all night, I understand.
Herbert and I sat on a platform with a few chosen ones, and listened to a long speech of welcome, and an address from the Santals as a community, while the packed throng of these merry dark-skinned people, gazed upon and especially upon Max, (who had come down with Herbert) with concentrated interest. Little Santali girls garlanded us with thick long ropes of yellow and copper marigolds, and Herbert made a speech, and declared the Exhibition open. Then we went round and looked at all the exhibits. They don’t vary much from exhibition to exhibition, except a little in the local products, so, to us there was nothing novel about it, but to the local people it was a great event. There was a tea in the Culshaws garden after we had done the rounds, and about 6.15 we left for Bankura.
On my last day in Bankura I saw two Guide Companies and two Bluebird Flocks, all put off to this last moment, because the schools had only just reassembled. This took the whole afternoon, but I got home just in time to go and have a look at the Government Agricultural farm, before dusk fell. I always like poking about on farms. I believe my heart is really in the land! We dined with the judge and his wife that evening. It was a pleasant little dinner, and the talk was lively, and we came home at 10.30, as I had only accepted on condition that our host and hostess would not think us rude if we went away early.
Our drive home the next day, was rather nice. We were the first car to make the crossing of the Damodar River, this year. Each dry season when the water has gone down sufficiently, a track is laid across the sandy river bed, made of straw, and a ferry boat carries the cars across what remains of the river. We had a bit of a job getting the car on to the boat, for the water was shallow, and the boat very high above the river bed, and this was awkward because the two planks up which the car had to drive, were short, and so the angle too steep, and the first time we tried, the exhaust pipe was banged on the ridge made by the top of the boards, and would have been smashed, had the driver gone on. He backed down again, and by dint of building a sort of ramp of damp sand and straw and putting the boards on to that, we did eventually get on without further damage. The local P.W.D. Assistant Engineer was down there in charge of the proceedings, and about thirty coolies. There was too little water in the river for it to be possible to row or pole the boat, so this hord of men towed us by ropes and pushed us by hand for some way up the stream to where the deep water was up against the opposite bank, and as that happened to be just at the end of the “pucca” road we had no difficulty in getting off. Another few miles took us on to the familiar Grand Trunk Rd along which we were able to do 50 or 60 miles an hour. We stopped for lunch at a Rest House, and eat our meal under the trees in the garden, and were home just at three o’clock. Before going into the house even, we went round the garden, and were delighted to find it looking really lovely. The long mixed border is just beautifully in flower, and the dahlias are in full blast, as well as the roses. Its such a pleasure, and it delights us that the quality of all the plants is so much better than it was last year. We think it must be the quantities of humus we made and put into the ground.
There are always a lot of things to see to when first one gets home, and we had a lot of visitors as well. I don’t know whether I mentioned in any of my earlier letters that we had been asked to dine at Government House on Monday the 29th? It was distressing to me, for it was the night of one of our Himalayan Club shows, and had I not already once this month asked to be forgiven for refusing a dinner at G.H. on plea that we should be away on tour, I would have asked to be excused this time, but I had’nt the face to do it twice in a few weeks. It upset a whole cartload of plans besides just being present at the lecture, for I had other things arranged round it, and had been going to spend the night in Calcutta. However, arrangements can always be fitted to fresh circumstances, if its necessary, and I went in by train on Monday morning, and was met by a borrowed car at Howrah Station, which I was able to keep the whole day, leaving our car to bring Herbert in in the evening. One job I did was to go and look at the Howrah Circuit House, where we are going to stay next, no, this week. Another necessary thing I had to do, was to go to a dressmaker who is renovating a couple of evening frocks, and making me two simple afternoon dresses, in preparation for this extended tour with the Governor and Lady Herbert. I have been jogging along happily here and almost forgetting about clothes, for I seemed to have enough for my needs, and did not mind that they are all old. I suppose I would have had to do something sooner or later, as we are not now coming home this year, and its just as well to do it while there are still some materials to be had at pre-war prices. My day was full with one thing and another, and I met Edward Groth, who was showing one of his beautiful colour films to the Himalayan Club that evening, at the United Service Club, and put everything in order for him, before changing for the dinner-party.
The Social gradings at these official shows are very funny. This party being towards the end of the season, seemed to us to be obviously made up of the last remnents. I was taken in to dinner by Dr Fox, now head of the Geological Survey, who is a good friend of mine. He was genuinely glad I think, for he is dreadfully deaf, but can hear me better than most people. Also he is a shy man, and much happier with people he knows. On my other side was a little Chinese Consul, Mr Sih. It was quite convenient that I was speaking slowly and clearly for Dr Fox, for the same method suited Mr Sih, whose English was not very good. Like all Chinamen I have met, he is optimistic about the eventual outcome of the war in China. He says he is certain that his countrymen will eventually wear the Japs down. After dinner I was taken up to talk to the Lady Mary Herbert, who is a plump jolly woman, who looks as if she might enjoy a doubtful story. One always gets away from these Government House shows about 11 o’clock, so we were not so very late getting home, and I think it speaks well for Herbert’s improved health that he did not seem unduly exhausted either that night or the next morning. We had a visit from one of the big local land owners this morning, who is a member of the Government of India. he says that if Herbert was born on March 11th 1887, of course he had to fall ill last May, because he is under the influence of Saturn, and, added he, “I venture to say that you were restored to health early in November”. Well! Its roughly true, though its hard to say that Herbert’s recovery took place at any special moment. I only hope if Saturn was responsible for his illness it will make better arrangements for the future!
We have only a few days respite here. We go off to Howrah early on Saturday morning. Herbert is holding the yearly Divisional Durbar there, and then inspecting the offices. We get back here on the 9th, go off the Burdwan for two days on the 12th and 13th, to be present there during the Governor’s visit to the Maharaja, Then we four days here, and off again for eight days on this tour through Bankura and Midnapore with the Governor.
At the party at Government House the other night, I felt rather bitterly that it seemed unsuitable for us to be sitting there in evening dress, being served with luxurious food and champagne, at tables decorated with huge bowls of red roses, when so many people are starving, and money is needed for guns and shells and everything to do with the war. Life as usual, seems to be the motto, but I think it rings a little hollow! Best love LJT