1940 May
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 2nd 1940
My Dears,
Poor Herbert has been in misfortune again. He developed neuralgia all down the left side of his face during Thursday night, and nothing we could think of to do for it, gave him much relief, so that he did not get much sleep. It came on in spasms all next day, but by a stroke of luck, the matron of the hospital had a sample tube of some dope recommended by the doctor, which gave him some relief, and he had a better night on Friday, and thought the trouble had almost cleared up on Saturday. We decided to carry out our plan of going into Calcutta after lunch, to see a film, and to stay with Harry and Winsome. We saw “The Spy in Black” and enjoyed it quite well, but either the drive in or the strong fans in the cinema, (for it was a small house not air-conditioned, and so dependent on fans) had a disasterous effect on Herbert’s face, and he had a dreadful attack of pain when we got back to Harrry (that extra “r” makes it look Scotch!) and Winsome’s for a late tea. However the drug did its work, and by the time we had to change to go to the cocktail party that Charles Holmes was giving to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, Herbert felt able to go. It was a nice party, where we met a great many old friends, and from there all four of us went on to a quiet dinner with the Rankens, where the only other guest were a man from the American Consulate and his very charming Russian wife, whom I had met once before and was very glad to meet again. She is a countess of some sort. I don’t know what that means in Russia, or I should say, did mean in Russia, for its most indelicate to mention titles in the S.S.R. I suppose. She was one of the many who escaped from the Bolshaviks in 1919. it was a nice little party, with good talk and delicious food, and permission to come home soon after dinner. Breakfast out on the verandah of No 7 Alipore Road is always a pleasant meal, but just as we were settling down to it, poor Herbert was stricken again with a specially bad bout of pain. He decided on staying quietly in the house while late in the morning Harry and Winsome took Charlotte to bathe, and I went off to see various friends, and to meet the Italian Consul, who wants to join the Himalayan Club. He has been in Calcutta for some time, and is popular and has a large circle of friends. I longed to ask him what he thought of Italy’s attitude in the present tension, but realized that it could not be done, and I also resisted the temptation to say that he might as well wait a little before sending in his application to join the Club, in case we were at War before he was elected, or could start off on his holiday. We met at the house of one of the High Court Judges, who is a great friend of his, and the General, who has fairly recently come here, dropped in too, and gave some very interesting accounts of various doings at Scarpa Flow from a letter he had just received from some old friend in the navy who is stationed there. I am glad to say that everything he read out seemed to me most wholesome for the Italian to hear.
Poor Herbert was feeling very “dim”, when I got back at lunch time, but said to carry on with the plan of having tea with another of the American Consulate men and his wife on the way home. They are the proud parents of a month old son, and I had been promising to go to see it as soon as I could. They are an interesting couple. The wife comes of German parentage, though she was born and brought up in America and she and her parents are American citizens. She had the reputation of being pro-German before the war, but I think her opinions must have toned down a great deal, if indeed it was ever true that she admired Hitler. She is a woman whose company I always enjoy, for she is intelligent, widely travelled and widely read, and the type of mind who quickly grasps something of the nature of the country in which she is living. Herberts neuralgia coloured all our doings during those days and the succeeding ones, just as it is colouring this letter. It cant be helped for it has run about neck and neck for first place in my mind, with the campaign in Norway. He was feeling wretched when we got home on Sunday evening, and went to bed immediately after dinner. On Monday the pain seemed to have concentrated itself round one tooth which had been heavily stopped and when the doctor had had a look at it, he said that if the pain had not got considerably better during the next twenty-four hours, the only thing would be to go to see the dentist. The pain was not better in the allotted time, so I rang up the dentist and arranged for Herbert to go down that afternoon. He came back, poor dear, looking a complete wreck, and without his tooth. After a great deal of debate, the dentist decided to take it out, and it was as well he did, for the tooth was dead, and though it was not septic, it would probably have become so during the next few months, and might have caused a lot of trouble. The difficulty was that it was so difficult to pull. Herbert had to have two very big cocain injections, which always make him feel like death, and his jaw is stiff from the actual pulling. However the neuralgia pain has gone, and the general soreness and discomfort one know will clear up in a few days. Herbert went straight to bed when he got back from Calcutta. I had to leave him and go out to one of the world’s dullest dinner-parties at the Judge’s. The Judge himself is not such a bad fellow though I am having a politely veiled fight with him over the newly formed Red Cross Committee here, of which he is President and I am “Lady Director” (of all foolish titles!) but his wife is an empty headed little snob, who wants to pose as being very modern and highly educated, but whose veneer of modern western ways is very thin. I don’t in the least mind if Indians have no Western ways at all (Not quite true, in practise! I detest the chewing of pan and spitting) but I dislike pretence. Mrs Chakravarty, the wife of out new collector, is a great contrast. She is an awfully nice young woman, with an excellent education, a nice personality, and a lot of experience of travelling in Europe. Besides the Chakravartys, the only other guest was the young Bengali Judge, who suffers rather from swelled head, and is always trying to be clever. It was quite laughable the other night. Mrs Chanda’s great conversational gambit was Norway. She is a small stout little partridge of a woman, and putting her head on one side, and opening her eyes very wide she demanded from each of us in turn “And what do you think of this affair in Norway?” Each of us attempted to answer her question, but she did not in the least want to hear what we thought, and just did not listen. What she was really interested in was whether the so-and-sos had succeeded in arranging that marriage for their daughter with young This-and-That. And if so how big a dowery they would have to give. The Chakravartys sensed this just as keenly as I, I fancy, and we had to avoid catching eyes, with some care. One ought’nt to laugh at or despise women of this type, I suppose, for they are doing the difficult Job of emerging from purdah, but most of the Indian women in Calcutta have so far passed that stage, that one has ceased to be accustomed to it. I don’t think its the domestic mindedness that I mind al all in this little lady. Its the pretentiousness and the snobbery. Family and position and money are gods to her, just as much as the few million others in her pantheon.
At some time or other I think I must have told you something of our D.I.G. of Police, and his interesting habit of always having done everything better than any one else. Herbert’s attempt at Jaundice was simply nothing to what he had accomplished in the past, and when I met him yesterday, he just having come back from tour, I scarcely dared to tell him about Herbert’s tooth for fear that he would have a counter-blast to it, and that I should find it had to preserve my solemnity. Sure enough, Herbert tooth extraction and the pain he suffered before hand are not worth mentioning in the same breath with what Mr Mackenzie has been through. The teeth in his lower jaw just don’t have any roots but are solid piece with the jaw bone! And so on and so on - - a long history. The awful think is that he will tell it all to Herbert too next time they meet!
There have been a lot of things to attend to this week. Old Miss Baboneau’s affairs are needing a good deal of attention. The Red Cross Committee has been taking up some time, at least trying to find out what the President and Secretary have been doing, without consulting or informing the Committee. It looks rather as if they have given me the high sounding title of Lady Director to which I greatly objected, in order to have my name, and keep me well away from any plans that were being made. However they have come to the wrong shop for that. I have I hope, made it quite clear to them that I’m either on the Committee and kept informed of what is going on, with a chance to voice my opinions, and vote on the motions in the Committee meeting or my name is removed from the notepaper etc. I don’t like being a cipher. I wont lend my name for other people to work with or behind. The difficulty of working with most Indians is that they are almost all fond of intrigue, and I don’t think they enjoy doing anything unless they are intriguing. Miss Glassup, the Matron of the Hospital says that that is the thing that gets her down sometimes with the hospital staff.
In spite of his many trials, Herbert’s mind still takes some quaint turns now and again. Discussing septic tanks at dinner last night, which is a favourite topic of ours, and a subject on which we are always doing missionary work when we are on tour, Herbert suddenly said, “I think my mind is like a septic tank. A dirty thought is dropped into it, and when it comes out behold! it is perfectly pure!” Oddly enough there is some faint truth in this claim. Every now and again we think “If it had not been for Hitler, we might now be in England!” Its rather tantalizing, especially as no sooner does Herbert get over one sort of health trouble, than he seems to be bowled over by another.
The weather has become more the normal hot weather during the past ten days. It was bad luck that it should have coincided with the attack of neuralgia for Herbert was afraid of sitting or sleeping under a fan. There seemed such a danger that it would make the pain worse. The garden is keeping up its spirits fairly well, and my experiment in growing petunias as hot weather plants is so far successful. We had a nice downpour of Rain last Thursday evening, which must have been an enormous pleasure to the trees and shrubs that don’t ordinarily get watered.
Best love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 2nd
My darling Annette,
Seeing some snap-shots of Dicky, who, as you say, looks pretty in his uniform, has made me realize that its a long time since I saw a photo of you. Romey and Dicky both turned up in some of the H.D.’s photos, but you were in France, I think. Winsome says you look very nice with your hair in a new way. If you meet any one wandering with a camera and a spare film, ask them to take your picture for me. You can even offer them a drink or an ice or some such delight on my behalf, as a bribe!
I wonder whether you find the War and especially this rather tricky campaign in Norway, a distraction from your work, or whether you are able to put it aside and concentrate on what you have to do, - - obviously the wise and proper thing to do, if you have the ability for it.
Oddly enough at the moment Dad and I are reading several American magasines. Louise Ranken started sending us The New Yorker, - Harper’s and Atlantic when Dad was ill, and finding we liked them, she has gone on letting us have them. I don’t do much more than look and laugh at the pictures in the New Yorker, which are awfully clever, but I have been reading quite a lot of articles in the other two, and many of them are strikingly fair and balanced, and just as critical of America as of England or France or any other country. One I have just been reading in the Atlantic, called “The Road Not Taken”, by David Cohn, draws a clear picture of how the repercussions of the war are affecting America and how they will do so, and goes on to point out that before criticising the behaviour of the British over Austria, Munich and so on, it would be as well for Americans to examine the behaviour of their own country over Manchukuo. Its rather comforting to read papers written and printed in another country, and speaking reasonably of our faults, yet alive to their own. On the other hand Harper’s print an article written jointly by an American couple who have lived for some years in a Sussex village, chosen for its old-world quality, and its peace and quiet, and they base a lengthy criticism of English lack of preparedness, and general lack of push and adaptability on their experience in this place. The following seems to me foolish – “The telephone system, the road and transport system, are in reality only shadows of really first-class and up-to-date systems as America and Contintal people understand them” (Have they ever tried to telephone in France, do you suppose?) And again – “The adaptations of the French to changing conditions are innumerable. The adaptations possible to the English seem almost nil.” Well I don’t believe that anyone who could write that has ever spent much time in little French country towns or villages do you? I must quote some more. “The English spirit compared with the French seems dead, or what is worse, turned in on itself”. I can help thinking that the good authors are comparing a town like Paris or Monte Carlo with their Sussex village, tucked away in a forgotten corner under the downs. What do you think? You know France better than I. They speak much of the country people suffering from malnutrition. I wonder if what they write is true. Even if it is, what about the terrible malnutrition in their own Southern States? No! I don’t think that article deserved a place in Harpers!
Is’nt it odd to think of the great army of question marks springing up from people’s minds all over the world about what Italy is going to do, - whether Germany is going to have a kick out through the Balkans, - and what is really going on in Norway. Thank goodness we don’t have to wait six weeks for detailed news now-a-days! I got on to Moscow by chance last night, and they were broadcasting in English a description of the May Day review. As I tuned in, a voice said “Here Come the Red Sailors! The finest body of men in the world”. I found myself breaking into a grin, for some months ago I last listened in to Moscow, and the subject of the announcer’s eulogies was then the Red Cavalry, and he asserted with just the same fervour that they were the finest body of men in the world!
Soon either you or I ought to be getting some answers to my various people about your future career!
All luck to your work, and as much peace of mind as you can manage to preserve. Best love
Mother
From LJT to Romey
Chinsurah, Bengal
May 2nd, 1940
My darling Romey,
It was awfully nice getting the photos of Dicky, and I was so amused at the small dog, begging so determinedly at the edge of one picture. Does she always do that?
I have just been interrupted by the dhirzie, who is making new drawing-room curtains. He is a local old man, and he drives me almost demented, for is so slow, and he wants everything explained to him several times over. Moreover, he always comes for instructions just when I am busiest. Poor old boy! I suppose I am unfair to him. I probably go much too fast for him to take in what I want, just as Dad goes much too fast for me! I used to get worried when I was young and could not keep pace with Dad’s rate of thinking. Now I don’t worry, but tell him if he wants me to do anything, he must jolly well explain sufficiently slowly for me to take in.
At Mr. Holmes’ cocktail party on Saturday, I met the fourteen year old girl who came out last Autumn, and who was such a nice, jolly kid. She has got very grown-up and spoilt now, and she is already training at a typing and stenography school. I do think it is such a pity! She is concentrating on a more or less mechanical process, when she should be exploring all sorts of realms dealing with ideas. It is not as if her parents are poor, and she had to train as early as possible to take a job where she could earn some money. Her father came to talk to me later in the evening and the subject of what Helen is doing cropped up. I tried to convey something of what I thought to him, but all he said in reply, was “Oh, she reads lots of books at home”. I am sorry for Helen. She is missing a lot of things that going to a few big Calcutta cocktail parties and shows of that sort, are a very poor substitute for. How glad I am that neither of us wanted to bring you out here before your school days are finished.
Sometimes when I look at the date on a letter I think “What’s in bloom now?” Bluebells should be out and primroses nearly over, I suppose. Are the daffodils in flower this first week of May? And how green are the trees?
Maxie’s daughter has gone to Kashmir for two months. I am sorry, for we shall miss a lot of her nicest puppishness. She is a most engaging little animal, and very affectionate.
Why, I wonder, when I spoke of Dicky’s photos at the beginning of this did I not mention yours? I mean the one taken on horseback at the Slades. I a glad you are, or rather were, getting some riding and dealings with horses generally. It was a lucky thing you moved on to Miss Keilberg wasn’t it? You have got a lot of interest and amusement from your connection with her, as well as being of use.
Time to go. Best love my darling,
Mother
From LJT to Romey
Chinsurah, Bengal
May 7th, 1940
My darling Romey,
Your School Report has come, and I send it back for you to see. It is a satisfactory document, and I love the thought that you make a dignified Head of House. I had that reputation too! It’s not a bad thing to be able to appear dignified. I think it helps when you have to control other people, and there are lots of jobs and occasions in life when dignity is useful. I see your old bugbear, writing and style, have cropped up in this Report. Your letter this week is much better written than some of fairly recent date. Keep on trying to improve your writing, chiefly by forming the letters well, and setting out the matter of what you have to say in a well proportioned arrangement. I’ve just had a note from the young SDO at Serampore, accepting an invitation to dinner. He writes very small, and the sheet of notepaper is big, but the letter looks so pretty and satisfying because he has placed both the address and the few lines of writing, perfectly on the page. I am bad at this myself, especially when I am using a typewriter, but I admire it in other people, and do try to emulate them, though I am not so very successful.
The impression I get from your report is that your work is satisfactory, but would do with a little more ‘pep’ in it. Again I think you are something like me. I liked my school work, but tackled it in a somewhat humdrum way, I fancy. The little extra spur, that kept me at the top of the form was a quite unworthy one. It was the knowledge that Vera Brittain would get there if I did not, and I had a sort of knowledge that though she was more brilliant than I, yet she was superficial, and something of a window dresser, and I think it would be unworthy to allow her to be better than I. She is superficial still, I am sure, from her books. She likes publicity, and is willing to sacrifice the dignity, which we spoke of earlier, to get it. I don’t know whether you can find a Vera Britain to work against. Maybe it would be a help if you could, but better still would be if you could develop that real inner enthusiasm for learning, be it on what lines if any that you need no other stimulus to make you work with that little extra edge, which must be such a relief to the teacher, and which, and that is much more important, won’t leave you when you leave school.
More and more strongly I am coming to believe that it is most important that as many people as possible should be able to take an intelligent interest in what is going on in their own country and in the world, for only so, I think, can Democracy survive, and help to make the world a better place. It is time each one of us realized that we are citizens of a great country and of the world, and that a real knowledge of world affairs, of ideals and ideas, is a thing we need, so that we may choose our Leaders aright, and created true and sound public opinion to give them power.
It is not enough to be one of the crowd who vote blindly this way or that according to what somebody tells us. We ought to train our minds, and take the trouble to read and to understand the problems which our country and other countries have to tackle. Only so, can we make the world stable, I believe, and be safe from the dangers of demagogue leaders.
There, what a sermon!! Now, what’s the casual home news? I am glad that John Averil came for a visit. It must have been nice for you to have someone to bicycle with.
Time for tea. Best love,
Mother
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 8th 1940
My Darling Annette,
Its been a very great pleasure to hear from Aunt this week that Gavin is to be allowed to stay at Oxford and take Greats. Also that she has heard from some neighbour in whom Gavin had confided some of his ideas, that the German invasions of Denmark and Norway had shaken him considerably, and that he gave certain indications of wavering in some of his convictions. What a relief it would be to all concerned if he could come out of his pacifist phase! The more one reads, and the more one reads of German’s own writings, the more forcibly it is brought home to one, that they, the Nazi party, - believe in nothing but force, and understand nothing but force. I have got the rest of the Oxford Pamphlets, and amongst others have been reading the one about the treaty of Brest Litovsk. It seems strange that a people can blind themselves so completely to a thing like that treaty, which is recorded “in black and white”, and ignoring its cruelty, harshness and injustice, scream so ludly about the Treaty of Versailles. I believe that the typical Germans are far blinder and less willing to acknowledge their own faults and bad things they have done, than we are, though we are so fond of blaming outselves for that sort of thing. By the way, it was only the other day that I heard that one of the junior members of the German Embassy in Cairo, committed suicide at the same time that Wehner Ow-Wachendof refused to return to Germany, and for the same reason! How tragic it is to think of what men of that calibre went through before taking such drastic steps and denying their own country, which is what it really comes to. We feel sore enough when our rulers make muddles, but imagine what it would be like if they enforced an iron regime which we disliked and disapproved of from A to Z upon us? The feelings of one in that position are well described in an article by an Italian seeking American citizenship, in one of the Atlantic Monthlys that Louise Ranken sent me.
Aunt has tickled our curiosity by saying that she has had some long conversations with Mr Caps on the ‘phone, about some lady who may be able to help you with advice about a job. He’s a good soul, and always ready to help people in any way he can. I wonder whether any of my friends in Government service will prove as willing to advise.
I had some interesting talks with H.D. and with Walter Jenkins during Friday and Saturday when I was in Calcutta. The talks took place seperately and I used things that Harry said as bait to make Walter talk. H.D. as is perhaps natural in his profession, believes strongly in Capital and individuality in business. Walter is a Socialist and believes in State Control. Shall ever the twain meet? I like the ideals of the latter, but everything I have seen of any sort of State Control has been so hopelessly wasteful and inefficient that I fear the result of curbing private enterprise. It seems that people have to be extremely highly developed morally before they are as careful of public interest and public money, as they are of their own. Harry also talked much of the danger of the doctrine of fair play for all nations, “Giving the under-dog a chance” and so on. He seems convinced that if the British Empire works on this policy, her trade will dwindle, and her markets be flooded with foreign goods, produced by people like the Japanese, who seem, (as he elegantly puts it) “Able to live on the smell of an onion”. I wonder whether he’s right!
When do you actually sit for your exam?
Best love, my dear
From
Mother
P.S a long letter has just come from George Pilcher, with a lot of what may be very useful information for you – but as it makes this over-weight and is not urgent and especially as he says he is writing to you direct, I am sending it on to you by sea-mail –
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 9th 1940
My Dears,
What a queer and distressing week this has been, with the news of the withdrawal from Norway, and yesterday and to-day the accounts of the severe criticism in the House of Commons and the House of Lords. Though I am quite prepared to believe that the Government were right in what they did, I must say Chamberlain’s performance when facing his critics, seemed a mamby-pamby sort of business, and very different from Winston’s or From Lord Hamkey’s in the Lord’s. It was had to prevent oneself falling into pretty deep depression on Saturday. I wonder whether it was worse in England where you were nearer to it all. As I have just told Grace, I was greatly helped in fighting against giving way to gloom, by thinking of the Chiang Kaisheks, and the way they seem to keep their faith and confidence in the face of such frightful calamities befalling their country. I was in Calcutta on Friday and Saturday, and was relieved and somewhat surprised when I got home, to find Herbert putting the Norway affair into a true perspective with the Huge proportions of the War in other places, in a way that was rather comforting.
I had made a fairly long-standing promise to go to see “Gone With the Wind” on Friday evening. Herbert, rather fortunately, had refused the invitation because he thought he could not stand any film that lasts almost four hours. I say fortunately, because his face was still far from being normal after the removal of the tooth and the severe neuralgia, and he would not have been fit to go. I had really intended to return after the film but when I found that in spite of having to be at the cinema at 8.30, we did not get out till past 1.30 a.m., and further that I had a great deal of business of one sort and another to do, I decided to ask Winsome if she would let me sleep at their house, which she kindly did. They were also going to the film, so it fitted in quite nicely. Have any of you seen it yet? Its astonishingly good, and Vivien Leigh’s performance as Scarlett O’Hara is remarkable. I don’t think I have ever seen a character from a book come to life more completely than she made Scarlett do. The amount of that hugely long book that has been packed into the film is also a tour de force, and on the whole well done, though there are moments when Hollywood evidently had to break out, and turn some of the drama into Melodrama, as during the first part of Scarlett’s and Melanie’s flight from Atlanta. You might have thought that four hours in a cinema would have satisfied me for the time being, but seeing that Raymond Massey was on in “The Spirit of the People”, which I think I rightly guessed, is the film version of the play “the Young Lincoln” about which I read complimentary things last year, I decided to go to it on Saturday afternoon, and invited my friend Christine Rosslyn whom I first met when she was in Calcutta with a Russian Ballet troup, and who now teaches dancing in Calcutta, to come with me. We enjoyed it enormously. Raymond Massey was wonderful as Lincoln, and I think the film has kept both close to the actual incidents of Lincoln’s life and to the spirit of it, and of his wife. On these hot afternoons its wonderful to be able to spend some hours in a cool atmosphere, and it was very hot on Saturday, and had been for some days. We had tea in the brasserie attached to the cinema, so as to avoid another half hour of heat, so it was amusing when we emerged into the outside world to find that there had been heavy rain, and that it was quite cool. Driving home to Chinsurah was fresh and pleasant, but since then the weather has been very trying, for we have the heat of May, combined with heavy humidity which is unusual at this season.
On Friday morning I had a great many jobs to do, including getting a fresh supply of work from the War Comforts Depot, and a long interview with an (lady) Indian doctor who is in the employ of the Public Health Department, and whom I wanted to consult about the starting of a clinic for Maternity and Child Welfare by the Red Cross Society here. Then there was my usual Himalayan Club work, and shopping to fill the time till lunch, ohyes! and a visit to the Girl Guide Office. I lunched with an old friend in Alipore, and sat talking for some time with her, after wards, before going to the Saturday Club, where I made use of the Club Phone for several calls, before meeting friends for tea there. We sat on in the garden till it was time for me to go and change for what in Calcutta is a very early dinner at 7.30, before going to “Gone With the Wind”. Its always nice to have a peep at Harry and Winsome, and we had leisure for some talk over breakfast. It had been amusing the previous night. I had gone back to the Saturday Club for a drink and a dance before going to No 7 Alipore Rd, and when I arrived there, I crept in to my room very quietly thinking H.D. and Winsome had probably come straight back from the cinema and were perhaps already sleeping. What was my surprise therefore, when I had just begun unpacking my suit case, and a tap came at the door and there was Winsome! They had been back to a supper-party after the film and were only just in!
It has taken Herbert a long time to get over this horrid neuralgia and the loss of his tooth, - in fact he is scarcely quite in his normal form yet! For a long time he could not open his mouth properly, and found eating labourious. Ice Cream or iced soup were the things that suited him best, and both are agreable foods in this weather. Luckily making a small quantity of ice-cream is little trouble in the modern refrigerator, so we have it every night. Since the week-end, when, on Sunday afternoon I had to give away the prizes at a local Girls’ School, there has not been much doing. The days have been very hot, and the nights sticky in spite of a high wind. We have worked in the garden, - - people have been in to see us, and I have been much bothered by the Hooghly Red Cross Association, which formed itself some time ago, asked me to be Lady Director, and has been doing all manner of things with which I don’t agree and of which I do not approve, without ever calling a meeting of the Executive Committee. It is being run by the District and Sessions Judge, and his assistant, both Bengalis, and they have managed to taint the whole thing with a feeling of intrigue, so dear to the Bengali heart. Now that I have begun to ask for some information and put forward some suggestions, they plunge into intricate arguments, quite loseing sight of the fact that our job is not to prove each other wrong on any point or number of points, but to get to-gether and do our best to push forward the work of the Society. After thinking the matter over very carefully, I have decided to resign. I cannot work, and moreover, I will not work, on those sort of lines, and as I am the only European on the Committee, I see no hope of putting a stop to intrigue and eye-wash, and feel the only thing to do is to disassociate myself from it. After all, self-government is here, and they are Bengalis working with and for Bengalis, so its best to let them set about it in their own Bengali way. I shall write my letter of resignation as soon as I have finished my mail.
I have just had a long letter from George Pilcher chiefly about Annette’s future plans, but he mentions that the cottage they had bought on Dartmore has been burnt down! Is’nt it wretched luck?
Best love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 16th 1940
My darling Annette,
Cutting out bandages kept me from writing any letters yesterday, and as always happens if I don’t get any done before my mail day, I have a series of interruptions on the magic Thursdays which I set aside for writing. The doctor came this morning, just for a drink and a gossip it seems, and at lunch time or rather after lunch, we could not get a sound out of the wireless. “All India” either from the Delhi or the Calcutta wave length was silent as the grave, and I could not hear anything else. I thought something had gone wrong with the machine, and having taken off its back, and gazed into it without the slightest degree of intelligence except to see that the three valves I could see, had a glow in them, and that another that looked like an ordinary electric light valve, showed no light. However when I touched it with the idea of seeing whether it had shifted in its socket I found it was hot, so gathered that it must be doing something. I sent for the electric mistri, who is one of the few intelligent men in Chinsurah, who confessed that he did not know much about radio, but could tell if any of the valves were burnt out. We took off the back of the machine again and switched on, when almost immediately we got a Bengali programme from Calcutta. We conclude that something went wrong with the “All India” transmitter. I trust that this is so, and that this machine is alright for its awfully tantalizing not to be able to get the news when one is so anxious to hear.
There was a lot of fun and amusement in your last letter, and it does not sound as if you feel weighted down by the approaching exam. What luck for Gavin, and through him for Uncle and Aunt that he was the exception allowed to stay at Oxford. Richard makes remarks about Gavin’s long hair. I wonder whether he remembers the days when we used to beg him to take off the great quiff of hair on the front of his head, though I don’t think it was ever as exaggerated as Gavin’s. It must have been fun for Dicky having the little visit to Oxford, and fun for you too.
My well meant attempts to get information for you about your future, may I fear, prove rather a nuisance, for the answers are coming just at this moment when your attention is all concentrated on work for the finals. However beyond answering letters, and saying you can do nothing till the exam is over you need do nothing. It sounds as if there might be a good chance of getting, anyway, a temporary job, in the Civil Service, and then that might lead to a permanent one. If there should be a question of anything in the War Office, and a reference is wanted, you might remember Sir Henry ap Rhys Pryce (General) I know him and his wife quite well, and Richard certainly met them with us at the Royal Empire Society, and you may have done.
Your account of the day on the river when you played your recorders, and received applause from a flower-garlanded picnic party, pleased us much. Dad thinks you are nice friendly people! Christine Rosslyn was here when your letter came on Sunday, and reading out about the fact that the rows of corpses had been so managed in the production of Hamlet, started us talking about Shakespeare production. Christine said that when first she went on the dance stage, she was in a strange production of Hamlet, which was done in the Continental manner, in which there always had to be a harlequinade. In this Ophelia was Columbine, and the Fop (cant remember his name) was Harliquin. She did not say who was Pierrot, for at that moment some visitor came, and I forgot to ask her afterwards. I wonder how they worked the whole thing in. It seems most odd, does’nt it?
To revert to the subject of a future job for you, I see Miss Florence Horsburgh is Under-Secretary for Health in the new Government. Later on I will send you a letter to her, which you could use if by any chance you should want any introductions of that sort. I wonder whether she remembers playing the part of Rimmon so successfully in the biblical theatricals we staged in Barisal at Christmas 1922 (or was it ’23?)
Its so nice to hear account of good weather, after the hard hard winter you have had.
Best love
Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 16th 1940
My Dears,
In these letters I suppose I am constantly repeating myself, and its difficult not to, for every time some new crisis arises in the War, one experiences somewhat similar reactions. One gets the feeling that ones own little doings and thoughts matter so little, and one has the strong urge to do something however small, to help. Therefor at this moment I have the sort of feeling that I really ought to be making many-tailed bandages, instead of writing letters. However I know that is silly, especially as letters are the only way I have of keeping in touch with you all, so I shall go on with this, and only apologise before hand if it turns out to be dull, for my thoughts turn constantly to what is happening in Europe, and the fears of the early days of the War lest major air raids fall upon Britain, have come back with renewed force.
Herbert’s neuralgia seems to have cleared up at last. It has not continued with its original severity all this time, but he has had a sort of dull ache in his jaw that has been dis-spiriting to say the least of it. We had Idris Matthews and Christine Rosslyn here for Saturday and Sunday, and I took the opportunity of having a little dinner-party on Saturday night. The French Administrateur of Chandanagor and his wife are old friends of Idris’ and it seemed a good opportunity to ask them. Another friend of the Baron’s (the French people) has just come back to this part of the world. He is an army man who came on to the Civil side a few years ago in response to the appeal from Bengal, who found herself short of magistrates oweing partly to the number who had been murdered or had retired in consequence of terrorism. Major Nicholas was District Magistrate here when first we came, but his time only overlapped ours by about a fortnight. He went back to his regiment, and now his time is up in the Army, and he has come back to Bengal to do some special intelligence work. He drove up from Howrah where he is stationed on Saturday afternoon and stayed for tea and dinner. The weather had changed for the better and there was a lovely cool breeze blowing, so it was delightful sitting in the garden and Major Nicholas’s talk was interesting. The weather was so favourable that I arranged for dinner in the garden, and I think our guests liked it, though Herbert was not keen on it.
The strong cool breeze was still blowing the next morning, and we actually thought it nice enough to stroll across to the Dutch Church after breakfast to show it to Christine. We spent the hot part of the day sewing war-work, talking and listening to wireless broadcasts. It was the second day of the invasion of Holland and Belgium, and there was a good deal of news coming in. After tea Idris and I took Christine to see the usual sights in the neighbourhood, getting back in time to listen to the 7. o’clock news, which was only just finished, when a tremendous storm blew up all in a minute, and we only had just time to carry the wireless set in doors, and shut the windows or some of them, before the hurricane of wind and dust, followed by rain, hit us. Since then we have been having high winds, a good deal of cloud, one or two rain storms and comparative coolness, which has been pleasant. It makes a big difference to a day in Calcutta when the weather is not outrageously hot, and it was not at all bad when I went in on Tuesday. After the usual busy morning, I called in to see Winsome, and then went on to lunch with Louise Ranken, with whom I stayed for an afternoon rest and an early tea before setting out to finish my shopping before the 6 o’clock cinema. Charles Crawford, my I.C.I. friend and I went to see “The Stars Look Down”, in which I was much disappointed. its a good picture of a disaster in a coal mine, but that’s only the background to the book. The interest, the real drama, is the building up of the boys character and ability, his struggle and disappointment in Parliament and final defeat, and the equally interesting developments of the other characters, which simply are not dealt with at all in the film. Its particularly striking, seeing it immediately after “Gone With the Wind” where the whole essential content of the book, and the true characters, are most wonderfully reproduced on the screen. Of course there was no really convincing acting in “The Stars Look Down”, whereas “Gone With the Wind” was full of it. Every character, it seemed to me had absorbed themselves into the character as drawn in the book. That certainly is a tour de force, but I don’t think “The Stars Look Down” deserves the praise that has been lavished upon it. Charles took me to dinner, or rather to a grill at the Saturday Club, for we were not in evening dress, so could not dine in the dining room. Its only the Grill Room that is open to the “Dine Dirtys”. Charles Crawford is an interesting young man. He has been working a solid ten hours a day lately, he says. He is one of I.C.I.’s chemical experts, and is doing some special liason work with Government. He had hoped to get three weeks holiday just now, to go climbing with Reggie Cooke, but matters more important intervened.
At the moment we have Mr Gordon, the Inspector General of Police, staying with us. He is a dear man and a charming guest. Its a great thing having people staying in the house who have a full days’ work to do. After tea yesterday I took him up to call on the Bennets, the head of the Dunlop Factory. We arrived there just after 5.30, Finding that Mr Gordon would like to have a look at the Factory, Mr B. said “Come on then. We’ve got twenty minutes before we close, and you can get some general idea of the work in that time” Mrs Bennet and I went back to the garden and had a stroll round, and then went indoors and had drinks. Time went on and one, and there was still no sign of the men, so I began to get a little anxious for we were dining with the Chakravartys at 8 o’clock, and it is a good fifteen minutes drive to this house from the Dunlop Factory. At last at five minutes past seven we set out to look for them, and as we approached the gate of the garden, the great gate of the factory opposite, opened, and they appeared, and by denying Mr Gordon a drink with the Bennets, we just managed to get home and change, and be in time for our party. It was a mildly pleasant evening, and would have been much more so if the Judge and his wife had not been there. He is an awful stick to talk to, and she, as I know I have mentioned before, talks nonsense without pause. The Chakravartys are very nice people, and both good talkers. It was the first time Herbert has been out to dinner for ages and ages, and he only went on condition that we might come home at 10.30. Mr Chakravarty was very good, and at 10.30 presicely he said to me that they would in no way take it amiss if we moved off.
The rain storms have cheered up the garden a great deal, and the grass looks beautifully green. Shortly I have to takle the job of replanting all my cannas, and I shall have to do a lot of rearranging, for there are some sorts of which I was given one or two roots last year, and which have now increased so that they will fill a bed, or a section of a long border, which has a series of six-foot wide divisions, each containing a different coloured canna. I have actually resigned from the Red Cross Committee, and my letter drew an enormous epistle from the judge, some eight pages of type, in which he tried to justify (Sorry! This machine is always getting peculiar habits. The latest, developed only this morning, is for the paper not to move on properly. I have just put some drops of oil on any part which I think may be related to this, for I have found that effective with other faults) I was saying, my resignation from the Red Cross drew an enormous letter, eight pages of type, from the Judge, in which he tried to explain away all they had done. It only had the effect of making me feel how quite impossible it would be to work with him! On Tuesday I brought up quite a big stock of Bandages from the War Work Depot, and I spent most of yesterday morning cutting them out and getting them ready for the people who will sew them. A morning visit of inspection to the Girls School, an expedition to get Miss Baboneau’s Will signed, and visits from various people in the station, about complete my weeks’ doings I think.
I have just been interrupted by a visit from the doctor, not for any special reason, but just because he was passing on his bicycle, and thought he’d like a drink. He’s a friendly creature, and lonely without his wife who has stayed in England with the daughter.
This is a dull letter, there’s no doubt about it, and I know there’s not much more space left on the paper, so I’ll say good.bye.
Best Love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Romey
Chinsurah, Bengal
May 22nd, 1940
My Darling Romey,
It was naughty of me not to write a proper letter to you last week. You have never commented on our letters saying we want you to stay on at school anyway until next spring. Do you feel very grieved about it? I’d like to know your views, although I don’t think they will cause me to alter my decision, unless they were to comprise a definite plan for training for some special line of work. Its unlikely that you would be able to start any special training till you are seventeen, though, and I also think had you had any special sort of work in mind, you would have told us about it.
While this ghastly battle is raging in France, it is difficult to pay attention to anything else, except the everyday household and garden things that have to be done. France and England, and poor Belgium, certainly need all their courage and power of holding on, now. It is strange that we always seem so slow to get it going. It’s the penalty of democracy, I suppose, and it is not till the enemy is almost at the door that “Mr Everyman” will give up his right to vote and argue on every point, and give carte blanket powers to a few selected men.
The photos of you and Dicky and others have given us such pleasure. He does look rather a pet in his blue-jacket’s kit. It is selfish of me to feel it, but I can’t help thanking God that his training was not finished in time for him to be in this great mix-up of a battle.
I’m a bit worried about Dad. He seems so awfully tired and run down. He needs a good long holiday I suppose, but its difficult for him to get away just now, and as the Rains are just beginning, it is not a favorable moment to go for a holiday in the Hills. We could not go out a trek, and I think Dad would be bored to death just staying in a hotel. Everything is such a burden to him. It seems awful hard luck that he does not seem able to stay well for more than a few weeks. I must get hold of the doctor and have a talk with him. How lucky it is that I am so strong, and all you children, too!
Poor Annette’s exam will soon be coming on, I suppose. I do hope she does well, for she has worked so well all through her school and varsity days that a good degree at the end seems the appropriate rounding off of it all and the right prelude to a career.
I wonder whether the Charles Carey Morgans will turn up to look at Headington this term. Doris seemed to like the idea of it, but of course, people hear of so many schools and it is a toss up which ones they choose to investigate further.
The lunch bell has just sounded so I must leave this.
From, Mother
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 23rd 1940.
My darling Annette,
Let’s take it for granted that my mind is full of the war, but that I’m not going to talk about it! Last week was a specially interesting one from the point of view of letters from home. After something of an interval a long letter came from Richard, written during his Oxford week-end. Aunt sent a lot of photos of Dicky and other members of the family, in only one of which you appeared, and for the moment I did not recognise you. This was I think because it is a bad photo and not because you have changed so much! Your letter was interesting too, and we both enjoyed your description of the bicycle ride that took you to so many charming places. Mr Cape wrote enclosing the letter from Miss Martindale. I have written to thank him and have said I am sure you are wise to concentrate on your work till the exams are over, and that I am sure you will then take the first opportunity of going to see Miss Martindale, and of fixing up the interview with the Civil Service Doctor to see whether you eye would be a ban to your getting in to Government Service. Of course I will be responsible for the fee. Miss M’s letter sounds quite promising. If you can get a temporary job in the Home, Civil, I should certainly take it, for it will be useful experience and some way of helping the country too.
Its desperately hard to keep away from talking and thinking about the War. I paused in this letter to listen to the 2 p.m. news from Delhi, which is so far satisfactory that there is not much to report, except that the B.E.F. are holding their lines everywhere. Dad thinks that a strategical genius has appeared amongst the Germans, and has got the Allied Comanders guessing. He is taking a keen interest in the strategy of the battles now raging, in so far as one can make out what is happening, and it appears that during his varsity days he made a great study of all the campaigns that have been fought in Europe during the last two hundred years. Its odd what packets information he has stored away in his head. There has been a great quickening of the feeling of resentment against Germans who are at large in India, and I’m afraid it is hitting Anina Brandt hard. I’ve just had a letter from Walter Jenkins from Darjeeling telling me that some of her pupils have said they will not have any more lessons, and a small school where she was giving German and French lessons, have said they are sorry, but they must ask her not to come any more. He asks me to write to try to comfort her a little. I will try, but don’t know how much comfort one can convey. Its not unnatural, of course, when one has been hearing all these stories of the dreadful harm done by the “Fifth Column”. I hope she will get enough pupils to keep her going, for she is entirely dependent on what she earns. It must be pretty well impossible for the individual concerned to realize the extraordinary difficulty for the authorities and for the general public in distinguishing between the people who are genuine anti-Nazi, and those who are not. The leopard cannot change his spots, however much he may disapprove of killing defenceless people. The old Italian Prior at Bandel Church rang up the Collector the other day and asked if he was suspected of having committed a murder, because, he says, the police seem to shadow him every-where. Its just anti-Fifth Column precautions of course, and it comes hard on the people who genuinely hate the systems their countries have adopted.
I am anxious to discuss the Emergency Powers Defence Bill with some of my more socialisticly inclined friends, not because of its immediate bearing, for I suppose practically everyone is glad to agree to anything that gives us quicker striking power in this crisis, - - but in the bearing that it will perhaps have on the future of Britain and the world. If Government control proves a great success, shall we be willing to go back to private profit making for big key industries? Dad, of course, is totally against control by Government of anything that runs at all decently by private enterprise, and his arguments sound good, but Walter Jenkins, on the other side sound just as convincing.
I am glad that so far you are alright for money. I have just sent home £200 to be put into the next War Loan, and shall send money as we can save it. Best love Mother.
Family letter from LJT
(handwritten note by Aunt at top of letter ‘Richard T as seen this – Send to Annette – then Aunt May)
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 23rd 1940
My Dears,
Events pile themselves upon ones mind in such quick succession, that it needs a very detirmined effort to turn from the things of world wide interest to the trivial happenings of ones personal life, here, so far from the theatre of interest. It was last evening at 10 p.m that I heard over the air that England had become completely nationalised or socialised. I wonder whether this is going to have a great part in shaping the future of Britain and of the world, apart from the War. It is a great satisfaction to feel that some check is being put upon private enterprise taking advantage of War necessity to make huge profits, and that Government can move quickly to counter the lightening strokes of a Dictator. Pray God the great battle now raging in France swings in our favour before this reaches you!
If you can endure to read of the trivial and unimportant, I will try to give you some account of how the week has passed for us. On the evening after posting my last letter to you, I had to give away the prizes at one of boys High Schools here. There was the usual sort of entertainment and speeches lasting in all about two hours. The boys did not seem to be capable of as much variety as the girls, and when they did attempt to sing, the result was far from coming up to the standard of the girls. When the boys sing, two or three or tour of them come and stand rather awkwardly side by side, and roar as loudly as they can through their noses, each slightly out of tune with the others. A painful performance to listen to. Do the Indians enjoy it? Some of the girls’ signing was really pleasant the previous week. One girl especially, sang a solo accompanying herself on one of the queer-shaped stringed instruments, of which India has produced so many. She made a pretty picture sitting cross-legged with her sitar across her knees, and her voice was soft and gentle. The girls gave performances of different types of dancing and did it very well, and dressed up in costume for a scene from Sorub and Rustum, done in English, and for a short Indian play of three scenes. The boys were not so ambitious, and did nothing but sing and recite and act a play about insects versus men, for which they did not dress up, but wore rather badly printed placards round their necks telling whether they were representing mosquitos, bugs, flies or men. The play was written by the Head master and full of moral uplift! That evening I fulfilled a long overdue duty, and had the young Indian Judge, who is under training here, to dinner. I took the opportunity of having rather an interesting young man from the Dunlop Rubber Co as well, and the evening passed not too badly, except that Herbert was tired. I am a bit worried about him, for he is always tired these days. He has been sleeping badly too, and worried with his digestion. These troubles all seem to be inter-connected, and invariably if her gets badly run down and tired, the other things all follow on, and become a sort of vicious circle from which it is difficult to escape. The doctor is going to drop in to see Herbert this morning. I told him I was worried, and wondering whether Herbert should hang the inconvenience to himself and everybody else, and take a couple of months leave. It would be better than dragging and feeling as wretched as he seems to be doing now. The fact that Herbert had been feeling so poorly, plus the other fact that some repairs were being done to the car last week, had prevented our returning the call of the Administrateur of Chandernagore and his wife, as soon as we ought to have done, so we went down on Friday, and spent a long time with them, discussing the War news chiefly. Some weeks ago M. Baron had said to me that he feared that Gamelin had “un style trop classique” for dealing with the Hitlerised German army, and it seems he was right. I am ashamed of the way I have forgotten the little French I knew! I found myself at a loss for the simplest words, though I could understand perfectly well when M. or Madame were talking French. She is such a pretty creature, with really lovely features, including the most delicately cut nose I have every seen! She has a sweet gentle manner too, but she is not so entertaining as little Madame Menard with her somewhat dusky skin and frizzy hair, from Pondicherry We had arranged to go down to Calcutta to lunch with Harry and Winsome and go to a film, on Sunday, and finding that Monday was a holiday on account of some Mohammadon festival, we asked if we might stay the night with them so that Herbert could get his hair cut on Monday, and also visit the dentist. He was a little worried about the place from which his tooth had been taken out for it remined so red and inflamed-looking. The dentist soon found the reason. A splinter of bone from the jaw (It had been a frightful job getting the tooth out) had remined in, and was working out. The dentist was able to get hold of it and remove it, so I hope the healing process will now go on alright. The film we chose for our Sunday afternoon amusement was “Death at the Stadium”, which I hoped might distract Herbert a little, and I think it did. Beg pardon! The film was called “The Arsenal Stadium Mystery”. I am not very interested in detective matters, but I enjoyed seeing the Arsenal Team (It was really the Arsenal Team!) and all the performance of preparing for the match and so on, as well as a lot of exciting football. Leslie Banks was really amusing as the detective. We had tea afterwards with Edward Groth, who is laid up, poor man, being treated for dysentry. We spent a quiet evening with Harry and Winsome, and went early to bed. I fetched Christine Rosslyn and took her shopping in the fruit and vegetable markets and then to have a drink at the U.S. Club, while Herbert was at the dentist and hairdressers, and we dropped her at her flat again on our way back to Alipore. We left Calcutta just after lunch, and were home about 3.30, to the great consternation of the two chapprassis on duty, who evidently did not think we should be back till tea-time, and were therefore sleeping comfortably on the door-step, dressed in shirts and dhotis only!
It seems as if the monsoon has already arrived. We have had cloudy skies and a lot of rain ever since Saturday, and its steady rain, not the stormy flood with strong winds that is typical of the Hot Season storms. The monsoon should not arrive before the 1st of June at earliest – Getting the rain early does not matter, provided that it goes on sufficiently late, but if it stops early, then its very bad for the rice crop. Of course we have been enjoying the Rain in the garden no end, and in these few days, things have made tremendous growth. it was dropping slight gentle rain last evening but Herbert and I were both working in the garden in spite of it, and I was dripping with perspiration and with rain when the Collector and his wife turned up. She had come firstly to fetch some canna roots I had promised her, and further to get some information about war-work. I have got quite a busy group working here now, and small as the making of hospital comforts is as a contribution to the war effort, it gives some comfort to feel one is doing even that.
India seems at last to be waking up to the fact that there is some danger from the Nazis, and that it might be as well if they sank their differences and got to-gether to help the British Empire, instead of doing everything they can to hinder it. Its a pity they did not think a bit about this before!
My friend John Hunt has been recalled from the very foot of “The Forked Peak” in Sikkim, which he and Reggie Cooke were just about to climb. He to rejoin his regiment, (The Rifles) in Egypt. He has been on special duty as a Military Intelligence Officer out here for some time. I am lunching with him and his wife in Calcutta on Saturday, and Have invited a young cousin of Claudine Currey’s who has recently come to Calcutta, to go to a film with me in the afternoon and have tea afterwards. I should not have done down to Calcutta again so quickly but for the fact that I want to say good-bye to John Hunt.
Best love to you all
LJT
From LJT to Annette
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 28th 1940
My Darling Annette,
One of those rare occasions have arrived, when it is only twelve o’clock but I find I have nothing in the least urgent to do, so I will take time by the forelock, and write to you. Its splendid to get letters from home, reflecting such a steady attitude. I am tremendously glad that you find you can carry on your work without feeling greatly disturbed by the War conditions round you. Its a great thing to be able to do that, and the more people who can preserve that balance, the better for the country. We have a bad example to the contrary in the matron of the hospital here. She has been pretty bad ever since the beginning of the war, and the absolute limit the last few days. You might think that the German hords had already swept across England, and were on their way to India, to hear her talk, and what is so peculiar is that she is an old spinster of about fifty or more, born and brought up in this country, her sole relation seems to be a sister married and living in Kenya, and therefore, with so much of her life done, and no one to be responsible for, you would have thought that she would have been just the person to say “My life matters to no one but me. I’m willing to go where the risk is greatest.” The doctor has just been in to ask me if I can get hold of her and talk to her a bit, for she is driving him almost demented, and moreover it is so bad that she should be talking like this in front of the Indian doctors and nurses at the hospital. I’ll have the old thing over to dinner to-night, and see what I can do. It may be useful to read some passages from your letter, just to show her that neither the old nor the young are sitting about and pitying themselves in England. I’ve just had a long letter from poor Anina Brandt who is pretty well going through hell, as you may imagine. She is in Darjeeling and has not been sent to a prison camp. She says her real friends are being amazingly good to her, but to strangers she is of course, a German and a possible “Quisling”. Her pupils have fallen off, so that she has great difficulty in earning enough even to keep herself at the little cheap hotel where she is living, but all this is little compared with the agony of hearing day after day of the cruelty and brutality of the Nazis, making her ashamed of being a German, and causing her to hate her own country. I have complete faith in her integrity. I am convinced that she believes in the ideal that we believe in, and detests all that Nazism stands for. She is brave. She fully realizes that it is natural that people should distrust her, and think that she should be shut up, and she is trying hard to keep calm, do what work she can get quietly, and not show the agony that is gnawing her. It is so easy to say lightly that all Germans should be shut up, but when one knows individual cases, one cant help ones sympathies being engaged.
Had you told me that Peggy Christie was engaged? If so I had forgotten. I don’t wonder, for she is a most attractive creature. It is rather sad that she should be going so far away, especially for her father, but for the moment it must be a relief to him to know that she will be far from the War.
Its nice of Sir Harry Lindsay to write to you. I really only asked him if he knew anything about future arrangements about the Civil Service. It may be useful to be able to get in touch with him. My letter to Sir David Meek probably missed him for he has just arrived in India on a short visit to Simla. I don’t know whether he is likely to come down here at all.
With the fierceness of the war, and the increased anxiety, the feeling of frustration at being out here and able to do nothing to help, grows more marked. I wish I could help in a “parashot” squad! Or even work in a Munition or areoplane factory. One longs to do something into which one can put ones back with every ounce of strength one has.
To turn again to the lighter side of life, - I was amused by your account of the big Scotchman who could swing you off your feet with ease. Its certainly not a thing that often happens to people of our size. When I was about your age or a little younger, I was out sailing with another girl and two subalterns from the Marines at Eastney. We landed on a flat sandy beach, and I was just taking off my shoes to walk ashore through the little rippling waves, when one lad who was huge, lifted me up as if I were a doll and carried me up the beach. I’ve never forgotten it, for I felt completely helpless! I find myself praying in some sort of fashion to some sort of power, to keep you all safe, and to put out strength to help the victory of what are at least reasonably decent ideals over the terror of Nazism.
Keep you calm as well as you can! Bless you and best love
Mother
Family letter from LJT
Chinsurah
Bengal
May 29th 1940
My Dears,
The appaling news of the capitulation of King Leopold reached us by the 2 o’clock All India Radio broadcast as a brief late message on Tuesday, and left us feeling sick and stunned, so what it must have been for you, so much nearer and still more for the B.E.F. and the French troops thus left in such horrible peril, I can imagine. Now my mind cannot be kept away from the awful ordeal that the Allied forces are going through in their withdrawal. To write of ones feelings and ideas is hopeless and rather stupid, but its impossible to plunge into a chatty letter about trivialities and not mention the great shadow that has fallen over us, nor can one get away from the enormously increased danger of Air War on England. with all the faith in the world that there is a very hot reception waiting for any such attempt, there is no blinking the likelyhood of considerable risk and possible destruction of buildings and property. Our thoughts are with you constantly!
I think I told you that I was going down to Calcutta on Saturday to say good-bye to John Hunt and his wife, he having been recalled from a special job out here to join his regiment in England. We sat a long while over lunch largely talking about the mountain climbing expedition which he had had to abandon, and looking at his photos, which were of great interest to me, for I know the part of the world where he was. I wonder if and when we shall meet again. I left the Hunts only just in time to keep an appointment with a young cousin of Claudine Currey’s, Harcourt Waters, about whom I told you last week. We met at the cinema ten minutes before the show started, so as to have a few minutes in which to introduce ourselves to each other. He seems a charming young man, and I would be most willing to give him introductions to people and so on did he need them, but a few days after arriving here last month, he met an old school friend, and they have taken a little flat to-gether, and Mr Waters has met plenty of people through his friend. Actually he says he is feeling so responsible, as he is the only white man in charge of this branch of the firm, that he spends the greater part of his time in office, and has little time for calling or more going out than he already gets. Our film was “Vigil in the Night” founded on a novel by Cronin, and dealing with the life and work of hospital nurses. I don’t know whether any of you have seen it. Its tragic and emotional, but well acted and interesting and I enjoyed it, - - so did the young man I think. We went along to the Saturday Club afterwards and had tea in the garden there, and sat talking till seven o’clock. On my way to dinner with Mrs Stanley, I called in for a quarter of an hour at “No 7” and had a chat with Harry and Winsome. Mrs Stanley and I sat in her new Air-cooled room, which she has arranged as a sort of bed-sitting room, and I must say its very delightful to be in a cool and dry atmosphere. She says that the Air Cooling apparatus, is one of the few things she has ever come across that is everything the advertisers say it is! Mrs Stanley longs to be back in her job in thw women police, as she was in the last war. It seems that she and some of her women police did a great deal of detective work for various Government Departments, and she feels that in spite of advancing years, she could still put up a good show in that line. It was comforting to be with her. She has such faith in the British Empire, and refuses to be cast down by bad news, saying she knows it is only temporary, and that sooner or later the tide will turn and Hitler will get his deserts.
We had a little Intercession Service here on Sunday at 4.30 p-m. It had to be then for the little Madrasi Padre could not leave his own church at Howrah in the morning. Considering his difficulties, i.e. the smallness of the Christian congregation, and the fact that the Hindus who attended could not join in the hyms etc he managed it quite well. The following morning Herbert received the following from an Indian Gentleman who bursts into somewhat strange poetry on every possible public occasion.
“Hon. Sir
May I an humble servant in H.M’s everlasting Indian Empire, offer my respectful puja greeting to His Imperial Majesty on the occasion of to-days special prayer for the Victory of the Allies.
With a whole-hearted prayer to our War-like Goddess, Kali, at Kalighat, Calcutta for bestowing her “Choisest Boon” i.e. “Triumphant Victory” on the Allies in the present War, and complete the disposal of all the evil forces of Germany, I beg leave of the Terrible Diety to-day, saying:-
“Oh Mother! Our war-like Mother!
Never be on the side of the German Dictator”.
I have the honor to be, Sir
Your most obedient servant
A.N. Majumdar”
As a rule the Poetry (You recognise the two lines as being poetry?) is of great length. His muse was evidently not in good form this week. At the time of the opening of the Memorial to King George vth he wrote a poem so long and obscure that to this day we have not found out what it all means! Well, let us hope his brief prayer to Kali may be answered!
Its odd how weeks vary! Last week not an evening passed that someone did not drop in and put an end to our gardening activities. This week we have been left in peace, and have done a lot of work. Most of the bourgainvillias have finished flowering and we have been pruning them heavily. This is the job Herbert likes best, I think. We have done heavy work on various other shrubs too. Like many other people I do thank God for a garden these days. It really is extraordinary how it rests the mind, and how one can for the moment become absorbed in the doings of the plants. I could wish that instead of flowers, we were growing something that would be of use to the Empire, but there’s nothing that would be at this time of year. The Soya bean I have planted for green manure all over the vegetable garden is flourishing, and I hope next cold weather we shall raise really good vegetables.
Herbert’s health is much better, I am glad to say. The place where the tooth was taken out is healing up nicely at last, and he is sleeping better, and not suffering from indigestion as he was last week. He had rather a tiring morning presiding at the annual conference of the presidents and other officials of village councils, the foundation on which Local Self Government is built. He has to give the awards and make a speech. The weather for the last few days has been extremely hot and damp and trying, and one streams with perspiration directly one moves away from a fan. He brought the young English magistrate and policeman from the Serampore subdivision, back to lunch here, and they all enjoyed a good long cold drink after sitting in great heat for so long. The Monsoon has receeded again, (quite rightly) and so we are getting something of the normal heat of May, combined with the damp left by the recent rain. The skies have a lot of cloud on them, so I fancy the monsoon will be back again in full blast before very long.
The sense of frustration at not being able to give more tangible shape to ones’ desire to help in the War effort is stronger than ever in face of all the difficulties of the present situation. India as a country still seems to be talking a lot and doing nothing much. I entirely except the Ordanance Factories from this, for they have been working 24 hours and practically all holidays since the war started, and they have expanded enormously. Idris Matthews has little time for anything but work these days.
How strange to think of this letter flying across a troubled anxious world, and to wonder what will be happening by the time it reaches you.
Our best love to you all. Somehow in times like these the desire to be in touch with the people one really cares for is strong. Yesterday I wrote to one or two of my old friends to whom I have been oweing letters for many months. One certainly needs to summon all ones faith and courage these days. May we prove strong enough to bear the trial.
LJT
From LJT to Romey
Chinsurah, Bengal
May 30th, 1940
My darling Romey,
Appalling events crowd so quickly upon us, that it may be best for you not to go back to Highways for the school break. I have left it entirely to Aunt to judge. There seems such a strong probability of attack by air from the Germans, and it is so much more probable that fighting in the air might be taking place over Essex, than over Oxford, that it might be foolish to go deliberately into the danger zone, for no reason other than the pleasure of a few days at home. I know you are much too sensible to object to this point of view, or to wish to put Aunt and Uncle or us to any extra anxiety. Of course, no one can tell what may have happened by June 21st, but be prepared not to be able to go. It is best to leave all plans to Aunt, for it is useless my trying to plan from this distance both of time and place.
We enjoyed your long letter about your doings at Miss Keilburg’s, and the first days at school. Poor Miss Keilburg! It must indeed be dreadful to have belongings in any of the territories occupied by the Germans. Hitler seems on the crest of the wave at the moment. When, I wonder will the tide turn, and put him into the gulf. I don’t want to write to you about the war, and yet it is so difficult to shake ones mind free from it for even a few minutes.
Tell me, what subjects does Miss Padfield take? It is interesting how easy it is to judge of the ability of teachers when you are being taught! One very soon finds out who it is that has the art of making one think.
It is a good idea to club together and have a wireless, I think. On the whole the news from the BBC seems reliable and fairly presented. I am very glad we bought a set last year.
Have I ever told you that Charlotte has been given a sort of Peter Pan House? It is a single room, about six foot square, and with a sloping roof under the highest part of which I can just stand upright. It has a door and three little windows, as well as skylights in the roof. It is made of light plywood, and fastens together with hooks, so that it can easily be taken down and moved. At present it stands on the landing at the top of the stairs, but it is to be out in the garden in the Cold weather. It is rather fun, but I wonder whether Charlotte will ever get half the pleasure out of it that I did out of the hut I built for myself, or any of the “Lodges” you made at Highways. Things ready-made from the carpenter do lack a certain charm. Charlotte is going to be seven next month, …just the age you were when you were sent to school.
Max still goes mad with delight whenever I turn up at Alipore Rd, and won’t leave me if he can help it all the time I am there. Poor boy was in the middle of his dinner when I turned up the other evening, and rushed and gave me some very soupy licks, then rushed back to finish the food, and finally back to wipe more bits of rice and soup off on me! He is a dear affectionate thing.
I have to rush up to the Dunlop Rubber Co directly after tea this evening, to see about the war work the ladies are doing there, and pickup some completed stuff to take down to Calcutta tomorrow, so I have to go and change into a tidier frock before tea.
Bless you my dear, and I hope you will keep calm and brave during difficult times.
Best love, Mother