Circus Troup
Jan 4
Montgomery’s Hotel1
Hyderabad Deccan.
Sallie dearest:
I feel just like a circus troup. We are living on the train and have been all week, except two nights at Hyderabad. We left Bombay and found that we had to change at such unearthly hours of the night that we asked them if we couldn’t have a car or rather two – each one has two compartments and two baths, so the Gillis’ have one, Mrs. C. and I one, father and the servants each one. So now they just drop us off wherever we want to stop. If it is in the middle of the night, then we can just sleep on and have breakfast when we feel like it, and then do our sightseeing and be hitched on again to the next train.
I don’t believe I have ever discoursed to you about Dak bungalows, have I? Well, all over Burma and India there are little houses, a dining room, living room and four or five bedrooms with baths where anyone can go and stay all night, a care taker who will heat water for you and a stove, also plates and pans, etc. In so many of these small towns there is no hotel, so the Dak bungalow is most convenient – although we must take our own bedding, food, etc. However this car arrangement is even better for we are more independent. Sometimes there are refreshment rooms in the stations, but generally we cook our own things. We found at such times the servants were rather in the way, so now we take turns getting the meals. Mrs. C. and Dorothy one time, and Adelaide & I the next. All the preparing and cooking takes place in the bathroom, so the menu is always a surprise to the rest, and we manage to have pretty good but not elaborate meals. Everything “turned” of course except fresh fruit, which we always have piles of. Last night we gave them hot tomato soup, creamed salmon and peas, asparagus salad, canned pears, crackers & cheese, and nuts. Now I know just how a porter at home in a dining car feels, and I certainly shouldn’t like to be one all my life.
We spent a couple of days at the caves of Ellora. They aren’t really caves, but wonderful temples carved out of huge masses of rock, not built piece by piece but just cut right there out of the solid rock just as it stood. They really are marvelous, and although they were done hundreds of years ago, they are still perfectly preserved. There is an interesting old fort there too where we walked miles and miles up and down steps, through underground passages, over walls, and up to the tops of towers till I was ready to drop.
We were at Hyderabad for father’s birthday, so gave him a surprise party. In the center of the table we had a Hindu begging bowl filled with poinsettias and red ribbons leading from it with silly but appropriate Indian toys for each person, which they pulled out during dinner. It is such a small place that we could get very little, but fortunately I had a delicious almond paste cake very gaily iced, and candles made in Bombay with his initials and date on top, so brought that with me. I tried to have everything he likes, and for salad I cut long papayas in two, chopped up the centers with mayonnaise, and stuck in each a sail with the “Albatross”1 written on it, and in the mast a little admiral’s flag I made of blue ribbon and white court plaster stars. We had red bonbon crackers to pull with camels and elephants on, and Mrs. Gillis gave us each such cunning little figures of Indian men, the washman, coachman, policeman, etc. all in their characteristic dress & turban. For place cards I drew albatrosses with spread wings and cut them out, and Mrs. C. made up an appropriate verse for each of us. Father was very much surprised, and seemed to enjoy it.
Did I tell you about the beautiful rugs they make in Peking and TienTsin? Lover just told me he is having six beauties made for me. Three 9 x 12, two in Delft blue and white, one dark red for his den; two 7 x 9 very oriental looking, and one smaller of the very best weave. There are three qualities. Most people get the second or third, as the first is more like that silky kind that can be used on the wall or piano or table, but I’ll be glad to have one of that kind. He and Punk and Dick were just starting off on a tiger hunt in [Shansi] Province, and now I’m worried for fear there’ll be a smile on the face of the tiger.
In Shang’s last letter she enclosed a letter to me from a girl in Australia saying she had sent me 120 rabbits tails remembering a remark I made that I should love to have some, so perhaps they are home now. In a very unconcerned way [we] said she wanted to send me more but had cured them herself, and in the midst of it went out to play polo – her pony fell and threw her on her head, so that she knocked a hole clean through her skull and was unconscious for two weeks, no one expecting her to live. The day she wrote me was the first day she’d been allowed to use her eyes, as one was stone blind from the fall, although the doctors said it would get all right in time. She was a most attractive girl, and I do hope she’ll be well soon. Wasn’t it sweet of her to remember me?
Yes, angel, I’m glad you told Mrs. Farrow about taking out the linen. You can do whatever you choose about telling people I’m engaged. At first I didn’t want it known, but now I’ve got so used to the fact myself that is seems different, and of course when I do get home people will see my ring. However I don’t think it need be heralded abroad, but if someone does ask you, say whatever you think is best, for I know it will be right. How people know it I can’t imagine, but every now and then I get letters from people in the Philippines remarking about it.
In a way this living in the car is fun for awhile, but I shall be glad to get to a hotel and be able to move around and not have everything fall on the floor whenever I lay it down; the juggling and dust are the worst part of all.
It was nice for you to go to Hudson and I’m anxious to hear about it. The other night at a dinner my partner was a man from Franklin, a Mr. Stickler, Standard Oil man, wasn’t that queer?
Heaps of love,
Alice.
January 4, 1914
Address c/o U.S. Consul, Cairo , Egypt.
1 Still in business 2009
1 The name of his flag-ship. Remember his name is Admiral Albert Ross. The ship used in the motion picture “White Squall” bore the name Albatross.
Bombay: the Real Destination *****
Taj Mahal Palace Hotel1
Bombay
Telegraphic Address
“Palace-Bombay”
Sallie dearest:
I must write today not only because it is Christmas, but to tell you I love you and how happy I was to get your letter and Shang’s that I found waiting here for me.
We got here a day sooner than we expected as we couldn’t stand Ahmedebad. It was an awful place – dreadful hotel and nothing to see, and now I wish we had a month here instead of a little over a week. All through India I’ve had Bombay in mind as the real destination for this part of the trip anyhow, and now we have [let] down completely and are not seeing one single “sight” and you can’t imagine how good it seems for we have been going as strenuously as anyone could – packing up nearly every day – getting in late at night by train and up early next morning to set forth to see everything.
Now I feel that we have “done” India. There is nothing more I care to see, and it is now time to take a steamer in order to straighten out in my mind all we’ve seen. However we are by no means resting here very strenuous, only in another direction. There has been something on hand nearly every minute, and I am trying in between teas and dinners, etc. to find a few clothes.
Sallie, I’m a sight. If you could see me, you’d disown me but the funny part is I don’t seem to care. In a vague way I want some pretty things, but when it comes to the actual getting, I’d rather go without. It’s such an effort. Mrs. C. and I did get to work and tried to weed out our things and sent a big basket full of dresses, shoes etc. to some missionaries.
Major Dickinson of the English army and who was so nice to us in Calcutta is now here and put father up at the Yacht Club, which is one of the loveliest clubs I’ve ever seen, right on the water and beautifully equipped. I go over often in the mornings, when no one is around to disturb my peace of mind and try to catch up on the papers and magazines. We’ve had dinner there several times, and tea every day. Major D. is one of the most attractive men I’ve ever known, and has heaps of money. He had us to dinner at his apartment Christmas Eve and four other officers, and wherever he is, a party is sure to be successful. He had heard me mention some Russian ice cream I liked, so thought he would have it for me and mixed the cream and strawberries with his own hands at the risk of losing all caste with his servants (one thing you must all consider out here). The cook insisted that it wouldn’t freeze unless he made it another way, but Major D. clung to his own idea, assuring him it would come in like a rock. We heard all this tale during dinner, so eagerly awaited results and imagine his dismay when it did come in resembling soup. However the blazing plum pudding and holly made up for the failure.
Later – was interrupted so couldn’t finish till now.
Christmas dinner here at the hotel was very gay. The dining room beautifully decorated, good music and menu a mile long. We had Major D., some others and the Gillis and gave each a cunning little brass peacock for a favor. For place cards we cut silly pictures from magazines and stuck them on cards with characteristic remarks of each person, so that they had to guess where they sat. Father’s had a man with umbrella and coat tails flying, tearing along at breakneck speed, clock at 3:30 “Next train 5:00. We’ll have to hustle, Kiddie, or we’ll never make it.”
Mrs. C. has been having awful nightmares of late and shrieks wildly in her sleep for me so I used that idea for hers, etc. Each one recognized their little weaknesses and easily found the proper seat. Lots of other foolishness, so we had a good time, but I thought all day what a glorious time we shall have next year!
Father gave me a very odd Hindu ring with two sapphires and little dangling pearls, and a lovely big book on India, taking in every place we’ve been. Mrs. C. a lovely, very old, Indian painting and a little silver filagree thing that the Mohammedan women carry their eye blackening in. I had a ring made for her with an old, small gold coin – Hindu. The coin turns over and is better done than I dared hope for, but she seems very much pleased with it. Also a big, metal bowl from Peshawar that she wanted. For father I got in Siam a stick pin with a gold tical at the top (it is a little gold ball with some characters engraved and is a piece of money worth about four dollars. He got silver ticals for buttons in his white coat, so I got some cuff links to match for his birthday. Mrs. C. gave him a lovely old painting of Akbar, who was a famous emperor here three hundred years ago, and son of Shah Jehan who built the Taj Mahal. Akbar did much to beautify all India, and has put up elaborately carved structures all over the country, so father was very much interested in him and always talking about him. I gave the Gillis each an interesting old piece of brass, and they all gave me lovely things. So you see we had quite a celebration after all.
We’ve been to the Admiral’s to lunch today. I am going motoring with the Major now and later we all meet for tea at the Club, and then we go to the Consul’s tonight to dinner. This is a sample of all our days, and although as you know I don’t like such a program as a rule, it seems rather nice for a while just now.
Lover writes that Mrs. Pierce, wife of Major P. in Tien Tsin is just going to Canton, so he is having her get a whole set of the real Canton china, a dozen extra dinner plates, punch bowl and everything. Isn’t that fine. When I was in Tien Tsin Mrs. Pierce asked me to get her some, so Lover and I selected it and he took it back to her. Isn’t it funny that now she is getting ours for us. They are having it packed and it won’t be opened till Lover brings it to me.
Oh, Angel, I was in an awful state. Mrs. C. was really hurt about Mr. Wallenberg’s acting as he did, and when I got here and found telegrams still begging to come for Xmas and motor us through southern India, I pictured dreadful times trying to sooth her, amuse and entertain Mr. W. and keep father happy as well. It would have been dreadful, I know although I can’t understand her point of view, for I certainly didn’t set about definitely to take him away from her. I didn’t even want him, but I did want him to fall in love with her. Then all would have been fine. However after all my worrying and wondering in silence a telegram came a few days ago saying that there had been a bad smash up with some of his oil wells up in Assam, so he had to go up and couldn’t meet us. I wanted to shout for joy, for although it could have been a beautiful trip, I know under the circumstances, it would have been very trying for poor me.
Now we shall go on prosaically but cheerfully by train. Don’t think Mrs. C. has been mean about it, for she has been just as sweet and agreeable as possible, but I know down deep she was cut to the heart as she once confessed to me; although she said she was dreadfully ashamed to have such a selfish feeling.
Father has been ill in bed- tummy knocked out and nothing to keep him going in the way of sights – just the way he is every Xmas at home- but I’m glad to say is better now, although still not very well.
Oceans of love,
Alice
1 In business 2009 http://www.tajhotels.com/Palace/The%20Taj%20Mahal%20Palace%20&%20Tower,MUMBAI/default.htm
Kipling
Rajputana Hotel
Mount Abu, December 18, 1913
Dear Shang:
This is a most wonderful place, way off the beaten track for tourists, but famed for temples said to be the most celebrated in all India, and I can well believe it for such elaborate carving I have never seen, although not nearly so pleasing to me as lots of others I’ve seen. The skill and labor expended impress one rather than the beauty. Father is sending you a little pamphlet giving a poor description of these temples, but excellent illustrations.
I’ve been reading Kipling every spare minute and appreciate him a thousand times more than I ever did before. One always enjoys books more when one knows the places where the scenes are laid, but the life out here is so entirely different that I think until you’ve been here much is lost out of his stories, especially as he writes so intimately about it all, supposing that everyone knows it as well as he does.
Have you read “From Sea to Sea”? If not let’s read it together when we get home, because he went to so many of the places we have been, but knocks America terribly. The rest is very amusing. He loves Burma and in one place near there has to drive in a “tonga” many miles. I found it most appropriate for reading after we arrived here, since we had to drive in one twenty miles straight up the side of a rock, and his graphic description is certainly accurate – not in the least exaggerated.
We spent several days at Waypur – the most purely native place we’ve been. The Maharajah has several beautiful palaces there. One is on a tiny island in the center of a lake and with the glistening white walls, graceful minarets, and slender pillars, it is very picturesque.
Along the country roads here grow great clumps of brilliant poinsettias which add lovely touches of color to the otherwise dry and dusty desert. Peacocks strut around wild everywhere too, and all night long the jackals keep up an earsplitting chorus of yells and almost human screams. One place they had no room for us at the so called hotel and had to put Mrs. C. and me into one tent. In the middle of the night a huge water buffalo strolled in and sniffed at Mrs. C. She was simply terrified, but I didn’t know anything about it till next morning.
These pictures1 I’ve been intending to send for a long time. I thought you would like to see them, and then will you stow them safely away for me. Not that they are particularly beautiful, but when I’m old and bent I feel that I shall be able to have a good laugh over them and remember all the incidents connected with them.
Lover had a new Infantry cape made in Tien Tsin, and said they did it so well that he had one made for me too – just like his – isn’t that fine! I’m making such wonderful plans for things we can do when we get home. You can take long walks with me then, can’t you and from Sallie’s reports you’ll have me as a cooking pupil.
Heaps of love
Alice
Address U.S. Consul
Cairo, Egypt
1 an envelope of postcards with Alice’s notes on the back
A Great Loss Out of Everyones Life
Jaipur Hotel
Rajputana, Jaipur
December 11, 1913
Angel dear:
Your letter with the joyous news of Mary and her new daughter came three days ago and I am so happy that they are both well and can hardly wait to see them. Mary must be supremely happy and Arthur’s letter to me, which I was delighted over, sounded so like him – trying to be composed but simply bubbling over with joy and enthusiasm. I think it is lovely that Mary named her for you, and I am going to do the same thing, only mine is to be Sallie as I like that better, and it sounds more euphonious with Garey!
Mrs. Chandler had the sweetest card to send Mary, and was just waiting to hear from you, but in our many wild shiftings around and numerous packings, it has been mislaid or lost. Your letter came today that I thought had got lost – the one sent to Calcutta and about Mrs. Wilhelm’s death and Fred and Clara. Poor Mrs. Brown certainly is a wonder to smile after all the sorrow she has had. Lots of letters from Lover, and he is still working hard between inspections, drills, etc. on this business proposition. I’m eager to know what you think about it.
We spent five wonderful days at Agra, and all the time we were there I had the feeling that it was such a great loss out of everyones life that they could not go there and see all the wonderful beauty. In all these towns the palace is surrounded by the fort, which is now occupied by English troops, but the rest is just the same as it all was hundreds of years ago – all marble turned a creamy white by age, but elaborately carved in big effective patterns or delicate lacelike designs, and all the smooth surfaces inlaid with flowers in lapis lazuli, jade, cornelian, turquoise or gold stone – graceful arches and massive pillars giving alluring views and vistas through the delicately carved marble screens at the windows, or partitioning off the women’s apartments so that they might peak through and see what was happening in the audience chamber or garden , and yet no strange man could look in upon them. Some of the rooms are furnished to show people how they used to look with their rich Persian carpets, silken cushions, heavily embroidered curtains, hangings of cloth of gold, and low silver tables and chess boards inlaid with precious stones. The women’s bed rooms have mosaic dome ceilings of tiny bits of mirrors, so that when the candles were lighted, they sparkled like diamonds. Around the walls, about five feet from the floor, are big cubby holes with chased silver doors and little gold ladders leading up to them. In these they stored their jewels. The Turkish baths are most attractive, room after room, one for a hot water pool, cold pool, shower, marble massage table, waterfalls the backs of which are inlaid with gold and silver zigzags to look like wave washed sands on the shore, and rose water fountains set with rubies and emeralds.
How they have kept these places from being looted is a wonder to me. You know the tale, don’t you, of Shah Jehan, the emperor, who built the Taj Mahal for his beautiful wife to whom he was so devoted, and when she died buried her there, as a monument to her and his undying love. It far exceeds in beauty any structure in [the] world, and I can’t attempt to describe it. There is something mysterious about it that grips everyone who sees it. We used to go down every day and just sit in the gardens and look at it and watch it change during the different lights. At sunrise it seemed ethereal as the mists from the river rose around it. At sunset a warm pink and then a rich yellow. By moonlight a dazzling white. Shah Jehan’s bedroom in the palace just across the river looked right over on it, and every night he would come and cover with a sheet of pearls her tomb, which is set with emeralds and diamonds, and even now, although this was three hundred years ago, fresh jasmine blossoms are daily brought and put on the jeweled crown at her head.
Dear me, it was all so inspiring, and the palaces gave so much for my imagination to work on, such wonderful day dreams about veiled and bejeweled wives, incense and rose petals that I feel now that everything else is tawdry and not worth while.
Today we went on an expedition that we had to do by elephants. It was lots of fun, but dreadfully jolty until we had got used to the sways, swells and bumps of each separate foot fall. We went way out to the ruins of Amber, an ancient city where there is a very beautiful Maharaja’s palace and stables. Did you know that polo originated here? All the old high-mucky-mucks used to have big strings of ponies and beautifully kept polo gounds in front of their palaces.
This is a funny poster that an enterprising shop in Delhi passes out by runners in the street to European tourists and I thought the wording so amusing you might enjoy reading it.
I wish you could see the monkeys – hundreds of them everywhere- jumping from tree to tree, running along walls and sitting at the windows the big kind with long tails and black faces. They even hitch the camels to wagons, and goats as big as Shetland ponies inhabit the streets by the hundreds.
Do you get my letters in bunches, or do they come one at a time? I wrote to Mrs. Farrow not long ago to tell her how much I enjoyed your letters telling me all about you and good times with them this summer, and thanking her for keeping my linens.
When you receive that embroidered guaze, will you just write a note to Mrs. Edwin Cunningham, Maryville, Tennessee and tell you have it safely. They were so good to us in Singapore, did so much for us, and it will take so long for my answer to reach her after I hear from you. Although of course I’ll thank her then too.
Oceans of love
Alice
December 11, 1913
