THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF GWENDOLEN M. CARTER

CHAPTER ONE

a. The Family Setting

b. College Days Toronto & Oxford

c. Widening Horizons Girl Guides, etc.

V

f

The A ciu~obicr ? op e ( rwcndoien M.Yc^t ^

S8-yr / t /147V I grew up in a big two-and-a-half story brick house on a busy
corner of Main and Park Streets near the center of Hamilton, Ontario,

Canada. My father was a doctor who had his office in the house.

He specialized, in the latter years of his practice, on children's

diseases and was in charge, on a voluntary basis, of the children's

wing of the local hospital. My mother was active in a number of

voluntary agencies and, in particular, the Y.W.C.A., whose well-

equipped building was only a couple of blocks from where we lived.

My brother, Charles, who was always called Charlie at home, was

three years older than I, and, during much of the time I was growing

up, he was away at boarding school, which he greatly disliked.

Although it was not until we had grown up that Charlie and

I developed a close relationship of mutual respect and affection, I

naturally tagged along while he was still at home, sometimes with

potentially hazardous results. He helped me to climb to the top of

the high board fence that surrounded much of our spacious lawn and

flower beds and then, as I was told later, pushed me off the top to

see if I could land safely, which I could not. One of Dad's spankings

for him and a slight lifetime hump on my nose were the results.

More hazardous was Charlie's fascination with fire. Although

Dad had a horse called Pat when I was very small, he soon bought one

of the early Ford cars for which a garage was built off the side

street and into the garden. There was a hole in the concrete floor

for surplus water, and Charlie built a small fire on top of it while

I watched from inside by the wall opposite the door. The fire

sputtered, so he went to the kitchen, brought back some gasoline and

poured it on with immediate and temporarily exciting results. As

the flames shot up, I can still remember moving around the wall to

the door with my well-stardhed white dress just out of reach of the

fire while Charlie rushed to the kitchen and came out with a scuttle

full of coal and threw it on the flames in an abortive effort to quell

them Not surprisingly, it took the firemen to do so, and the

inside of the garage had ultimately to have a completely new wooden

frame.

In the morning, Dad and mother and I had breakfast together as

Charlie would have left already for school. Dad always insisted that

I eat an egg, despite my protests. When I balked, he would urge me

to "fool mother." I would then gulp it down, turn the shell upside

down and offer it to her. She always took it with thanks and would

proceed to crack the top off the empty shell, whereupon there would be

shouts of glee from me! I don't know how long this charade continued,

but I think for quite a while before I learned to eat my egg without

such inducement. Old habits die hard, however, and I still have an

egg for breakfast if I possibly can.

Every morning, Dad would sit by the telephone in his office just

inside the front door and call his patients to see if they wanted him

to visit them that day. Mother urged him to go in any case, but he

always refused, although, not infrequently, they would rouse him in

the middle of the night when their symptoms became more alarming. He

always got out of bed, dressed, and went to them, usually to find they

could have waited until morning, but he never complained.*

The office and waiting room were forbidden ground when it was

time for patients to come. When there were epidemics, as there often

were of flu in stormy weather, they would pour into the house in a

stream. I have vivid memories of Dad coming from the office as the flow

lessened and sitting at the table with the rest of us, often shading

his eyes between courses, and falling asleep for a few minutes before

returning to the office. It was an ability I have always envied but

never managed to acquire.

In the summer, Charlie and I were usually sent out of town to a

farm belonging to the family of a wonderful maid of ours called Jennie.

It was she who had taught me to walk, she always boasted, while my

parents were in New York on one of their rare visits out of town.

We were at the farm the summer I became four and suddenly found I

could not make my legs work. I remember that I was sat on a table

and offered candies if I could walk across the room, but I could not.

Jennie telephoned my parents, who were well aware of the polio epidemic

in the area, and came out at once to fetch me by the big radial that

passed our house in the city every day. It was later that the pain came.

It was Christmas Day when I was first brought downstairs to be with the

rest of the family.

Even though I could not use my legs, I still wanted to be as ac-

tive as possible. In the winter, I had a sleigh and huge furnace gloves

to push myself along the slippery pavement. When I was quite a bit

older, I used to escort my playmates over the tracks they were for-

bidden-to cross by themselves. "No one ever told me not to cross

them," I'd say proudly. I would also get into the snow in our own

garden and make snowmen that were difficult to recognize but gave

me inordinate satisfaction. I was told later that one day when I

had dropped my tool in the snow I spent a vast amount of energy

trying to dig it out. Whether I did or not, it didn't occur to me

to ask for help because that would have spoiled my fun.

One of the many people who used to pass in front of our house

when I was out on my sleigh was the physical director of the Y.W.C.A.,

whom we came to know as Peter Cheswright. Dad was very keen that I

should learn to swim, or at least move around in the water, and the

Y had a splendid pool. I could always float.because my legs were so

light, and, ultimately, I swam well enough to get to the end of the

pool, which was a great triumph.

Gradually, a close relationship developed with Peter, which

bore fruit for all of us eventuAlly when she had so severe an attack

of appendicitis that she had to give up her job at the Y. It was about

the time that I needed daily exercises of different kinds, and she

came to live with us to supervise them.

Mother already had help in giving me massage and simple exercises

through a close friend of hers, whom I called Aunt Jo, who came for a

weekend and stayed seven years. She was a devout Catholic and strove

mightily to do something about my religious training, but with little

success. I was fascinated ., as she said, her beads", but created

dismay when I proposed she use her brooch instead I was more attracted

by the services at the small Anglican church nearby, particularly

because of the music. One Sunday, I crept inside in my very ordin-

ary play clothes and creaked up the aisle to where my parents were

sitting. I was never punished for such doings, however, and the only

time I can remember being slapped hard enough to hurt was for "being

rude to Aunt Jo."

Charlie was a great deal more sensitive than I was, and, when

anything unusual was suggested, his reaction was "what will the people

think." Unfortunately, he grew up in the period when boys went to

boarding school, and he was sent to Ridley College, which he never

liked. Moreover, Mother bought him an inappropriate kind of nightwear

on the ill advice of a salesman, and he suffered a lot of fun-making

at his expense. I would have fought back,- but he took the gibes and

suffered. Moreover, when he had a bad case of flu, he was sent back

to college before he was fully recovered. I suffered in a different

way during that flu epidemic by being sent to stay with Grandmother,

who was a fine person of whom-I became quite fond when I was old enough

to enjoy her Irish witticisms at everyone's expense, but who dressed

me in her most uncomfortable and unsuitable garments cut down to size.

I started school when I was eight or nine at a small private

establishment run by two elderly maiden ladies, Miss Virtue and Miss

Fitzgerald. One advantage I could have had from that school was to

learn German, but Dad vetoed it, since "we are fighting the Germans."

Though my close German friend of university and later years, Louise

Holborn, coached me as best she could, and I learned to love the great

woods and towns of Germany when I was with her, I never became at all

fluent

I found French easier, but, like do many of us growing up in Ontario,

took no advantage of our Quebec neighbors, and have remained largely

unilingual throughout my life, a great disadvantage on my many travels.

A year at the local public school to which I could walk with

crutches and braces on both legs prepared me for the more distant

Hamilton Collegiate Institute, where Dad drove me and a close friend,

Dorothy Hannon, and picked us up after his hospital duties were over.

It speaks much for him, not for us, that I received an award for punctu-

ality my first year! At least I found little difficulty in mastering

the long flights of stairs from the sidewalk and to the upper levels

inside the building and particularly delighted in swinging down

them again in a way I never dared to use again when I got older. In that

earlier time, I simply put my crutches on steps well below those I was

standing on and would swing down to their level. I can still vizualize

the startled faces of my classmates making room for my peculiar means

of descent.

Dad had been in khaki from the day Canada entered the war against

Germany as part of the British Commonwealth, and, as a senior medical

officer in the army, was away from home for long stretches at a time.

Mother and he decided that summer by Lake Erie was appropriate for both

Charlie and me, and we loved it. In the early days, we travelled there

in a large kind of wagon called a Democrat once we had reached the end

of the rail line in Hagersville. Once we arrived at Hoover's Point, we

stayed there throughout the summer.' At first, our cottage was a rented

one, but, soon, we had our own. Mother displayed great skill as a

carpenter and fitted ceilings on the bedrooms, and, if I remember rightly,

also enclosed the area outside the kitchen so we had a screened porch.

She had a close friend whom we called Mimi stay with us most summers,

and she said much of their conversation started with "hand me the

hammer.

One of the special features of the shoreline in front of the

cottages was a row of gas wells standing in the water that had to be

blown out once a week. The sound, as the man moved from one to

another well, always brought us out to watch. The gas was piped into

our cottage, and Charlie and a friend lost most of their hair when

they unplugged an outlet in a vacant one and put a match to it!

In addition to the wells, there was a reef a short distance from

shore, and, in any case, the water was shallow quite a long way out, so

it was safe to let us go in by ourselves. I finally graduated to a

boat of my own, which I used to paddle happily for hours, taking swims

from the side as the fancy took me. I also had a tent of my own in

due course, so I could feel completely independent.

When I was in my mid-teens and had gone fairly far with courses

at the Collegiate, Peter Cheswright came to live with us, and I con-

centrated in earnest on systematic physical exercises. They were care-

fully balanced so as to use whatever muscles I had in each leg and to

develop others where possible. My right leg, nicknamed Pete, had been

the most affected by the polio, and I never graduated from the long

brace that went up close to my hip. The left one, Jane, only needed

a short brace below the knee, which was a great help for going up

stairs.

Although Peter was skillful in alternating different ways of

developing what muscles I had, the five hours a day which became our

ultimate goal, were pretty boring as well as tiring. Trying to develop

a previously unused muscle was particularly strenuous, as it was a matter

of mental concentration on what Peter described but I could not feel.

Standing with one crutch and finally without either of them required

another type of concentration. In between, I'd lie on my back and

kick madly at a ball which I'd try to send somewhere in the room out

of Peter's reach. That was really fun! So were the trips out of doors

on my tricycle with Peter riding beside me on her bicycle ready to

give me a necessary push over a curb or up a hill.

Dad found a speedometer for the tricycle, so I could measure

the distances I rode, and, in the end, I could go the five miles to

Dundurn Castle, one-time home of Sir Alan MacNab, a distant relative

whose life and work Charlie was to help to publicize in the future.

What particularly attracted me at Dundurn was the small zoo with two

bears, which I loved to feed with nuts thrown into their cages. I

became so popular with them that they would rear up at the front of

the cage when they saw my tricycle.

But my goal was college and, in order to finish my necessary

subjects, particularly in science, I was coached after school hours.

It was quite enjoyable, as I had a first-rate person to work with.

One day, he said to me, "You'll be a very good teacher." I was horrified

and reacted indignantly that "I'll never be a teacher." So much for

good or bad intentions, for, of course, a teacher was what I finally

became.

Not all my life was involved in exercises and study. I became part

of a group of young people organized by one of Dad's particularly

gay young patients, and we went to parties, played bridge, and chatted

about everything and nothing. This was a welcome antidote to the long

hours of developing my muscles and my mind.

There were also some outstanding events like the visit of the

Prince of Wales when Dad was chosen to introduce the other officers to

him. The Prince had rather a rough time in Hamilton, as the current

mayor kept leaning out of their car to hail his friends! Years later,

when Dad, Mother and I went to England, when Uncle John was Mayor of

Oxford, and were presented to the Prince at a meeting of the Royal

Society of which he was honorary presidents he and Dad recalled the

experience. I shall never forget that as the Prince was leaving

the hall at the close of the conference, he went down a couple of

steps and then turned to salute the three of us as we stood at their

top.

Hardly less thrilling was to serve as Mayoress for my celibate

uncle. As soon as I had a chance to slip the massive chain over my

head, I rushed off to the best photographer in town to have a perma-

nent record of how it looked! Then came the official banquet in the

great dining room of the City Hall. Naturally, I sat beside Uncle

John while the ancient ceremony went around the circle into which the

guests were grouped. A massive goblet of silver was passed, with

three of the guests involved each time. One held the goblet, one

faced him, and behind the recipient-to-be stood yet another with his

or her hands raised to shoulder height to ensure no danger could come

while he sipped the wine. As the goblet passed, the historic words

were uttered: "May God protect the King and Queen and cherish the City

of Oxford." The words still sing in my ears.

10

I B COLLEGE DAYS

We had always taken it for granted I,
that I would go

to Trinity College, the Anglican section of the University of Toronto,

when the appropriate time arrived, and that I would live at its St.

Hilda's residence. Dad had secured his basic medical degree from

Trinity Medical just before the turn of the century. Charlie had gone

to Trinity, and, less appropriately, to the School of Practical

Science (SPS), the latter because of urging by some friends, if I

remember rightly. Unfortunately, their advice was far from appropriate

for Charlie's very real capacities were in literature, and he

flunked out at the end of his first year and never returned. Had his

course fitted him, I was always convinced that he would have done well,

but, in any case, the Trinity connection always meant much to him, and,

characteristically, he made friends during his year there that he kept

all his life.

Because of my exercises, I stayed at home well past the normal

age for entering college, and I was more than ready psychologically

as well as academically when the time came. The first problem was the

very unwelcoming attitude of Miss Cartright, the head of St. Hilda's,

who immediately raised problems of accessibility within the residence

as well as throughout the university. Mother finally became so exas-

perated that she threatened to take me to the Methodist residence,

whose head she knew personally. Miss Cartright finally agreed, however,

and, of course, I managed. She put me in a room at the top of the

first flight of stairs in the central building, 99 St. George St., and

assigned me a roommate, Frances Turner, commonly known as Peggy, on

the grounds that we would be good for each other! After that first

year, I had a ground floor room at the extreme end of the two adjoining

buildings farther up St. George Street that made up the rest of the

residence. I gathered that the point of giving me that particular room4

which had a small side door that opened onto a low verandah and from

there to the street was because Carty, as we called her, felt that I

would never take advantage of that exit. She was quite right as far as

I was concerned, but I always left the door unlocked, and it became a

well-used nighttime passageway for many others.

Academically, all my courses were at the university except for

the boring requirement of Religious Knowledge at Trinity itself.

I took the honor course in history and found, to my delight, that

most of my classes were seminars, which meant papers and lots of dis-

cussion, as well as training by some of the best minds in the University.

One of the courses I took was by Lester (commonly known as Mike) Pearson,

who subsequently became a key member of the Cabinet and later Canadian

High Comissioner in London. One of the most brilliant lecturers I

have ever known, he also had a flow of witticisms that I long

remembered and envied. Others were George Glazabrook, who was also

moved to Ottawa during the war, and always remained a close friend;

Frank Underhill, who introduced me to constitutional issues; and

Professor Wallace, who trained me in academic decorum by force of

personality.

Baldwin House, where the history department was situated, was

two long blocks south of St. Hilda's. In good weather, I enjoyed the
walk, but, when the snow came and especially when it turned to ice, I
found myself slipping about uncomfortably. Once, I remember, I was

crossing from one corner of the campus to another through the snow

which had blown into deep drifts, and I slipped and fell. By great

good luck two St. Hildians were not far away, and I heard them

shouting "She's one of ours!: I do not know if I could have managed
again
to get up/by myself, but generally, I coped even with storms, and it

was a matter of pride not to ask for help except in extreme

circumstances. Some people wondered rather loudly why my family

did not provide taxis for me, and in between I took them or was

picked up by friends after concerts or evening lectures but I much

preferred to handle transport myself and almost always managed to do so.

St. Hilda's had plenty of parties, and I learned to get

my card filled so some of the visitors would sit with me while

the others were dancing. One of the advantages of the academic

atmosphere was that normally there was always something of mutual

interest to talk about, and I do not remember ever feeling left

out, probably thanks to the thoughtfulness of my classmates and

the friends I quickly made. I also was a member and sometimes

an officer of various college and university clubs, edited the St.

Hilda's Chronicle, and contributed to other publications. In

fact, life became a busy and satisfying round of writing essays

for my seminars often finished rather late at night and

participating in a series of other activities.

In the summers, there were trips, sometimes abroad as

before I started St. Hilda's. Mother and I went to Paris at that

time and, due to the chance encounter with a French woman who virtually
that
adopted us, I was bought an extraordinary wardrobetincluded beaded

dresses. They created a sensation when, on Mother's urging, I

appeared in one of them at the introductory session at St. Hilda's
else
where everyone/was in slacks or shorts. They were henceforth

relegated to the back of my closet, and were replaced by more

appropriate ones.

On another visit to England, Mother and I were in a London

taxi when it was struck by a private car from a cross street.

Mother's collarbone was broken, and I was pretty well shaken up.

At the hospital, physicians suggested that Mother only needed to

have her arm "put in rings," but when they learned that her

husband was himself, a physician, they quickly treated her properly.

I spent the night in the public ward of a huge hospital near the

center of London where one of my more lasting memories is of the

woman in the next bed saying "I sure miss my glass of stout of an

evening, dearie, don't you?" to which I replied as noncommitedly

as I could, not having the least idea of what stout was! Dad came

over to London soon after and gave us both a gay time but I remember

that he said he felt like putting a bandage around his head to

match Mother's arm in a sling and my crutches!

One of the great joys of England was my two uncles who lived

there, each as different as possible from the other. They had paid

us a quick visit to Hoover's Point in the summer of 1914 when,

characteristically, Uncle Will, who had a parish in Tollesbury., Kent,

had said breezily, "We'll lick the Germans before Xmas," while

Uncle John, who belonged to the Brothers of the Resurrection in

Oxford and served on that city's Council, replied tartly "Don't fool

14

yourself. It's going to be a long struggle." which, of course,

it was. They were fortunate to be able to return to England before

the worst began.

Having two uncles in England, and, particularly, having Uncle

John in Oxford were not the only reasons that I was determined to go

to Oxford University when I finished my degree at the University of

Toronto, but it helped to persuade my parents that it was a good idea

and it probably also aided my admission to Somerville College, on

which I had set my heart. "Intellectual, aesthetic, and dowdy" was
significant
its stereotype. Particularly/ for me was that its Principal was the

redoubtable Margery Fry. She was a sister of Roger Fry, a renowned

artist, but far more important in my view was that she was a widely

recognized administrator and an outspoken critic of English local

government.

I well remember that when I arrived at Somerville in September,

1929, I was welcomed to her private quarters along with other new

entrants and lectured on our duty to speak out on important issues of

the day from abortion to rearmament. Miss Fry became a close friend

as well as something of a role model, and future visits to England

after I graduated from Oxford were never complete without the chance

to have long talks with her on everything that seemed of special note

at that time.

My major tutor at Somerville was Miss Maude Clarke, a charming

thoughtful person who did much to make my time there both productive

and compatible. Her specialty was British history and within that vast

field she had specialized on Richard II on whom she discovered some

new material while I was in college which earned her special mention

in The Times. Miss Ady supervised my work in European history but

did not shine in my estimation in comparison with Miss Clarke.

What I liked best were my units in political science, the field in

which I was to specialize when I went to Harvard, and have remained

in ever since.

Oxford terms were short, eight weeks long with six weeks

between them, intended for preparatory reading for the coming term.

During my first year at Somerville, an American fellow student, Basile

Anglin and I and two other students, one Canadian and one American,

drove a rented Renault car to the south of France, easing our

conscience by shipping ahead many more books than we ever read once

we arrived. I was the navigator and, as it generally got dark while

we were still driving, eased my task by following tram tracks through

towns leading to an unfair outcry against the French for having so many!

We stopped in marvellous cities like Avignon, once center for a rival

Pope, and revelled in the architecture of great cathedrals, some of

which I had visited during earlier trips, but found as overwhelmingly

beautiful and uplifting as before. We also savoured a range of

small pensions, creating visible concern from time to time by their

owners over the "jeunes filles seule". Once at the coast, we settled

in for a couple of weeks. Basile and I were the restless ones who

used to take the car for long drives along the 'ote d'Ivor in the

moonlight which I shall never forget.

Coming back, we found the car ran heavier than before. Climbing

to the top of Les Baux on our way south, the lights had given out,

and we had driven down guided only by my pocket flashlight. The

same and more happened after we crossed the Channel and headed noisily

across what seemed wide open spaces towards London with only one day

to spare before we were due back in college. We managed to find a small

hotel for the night, but as we attempted to find our way through

London the next day by following a bus, it kept stopping when we did

not dare to do so. Anxiously asking directions of a policeman engaged

in conversation with a young woman, we were indignantly brushed off

with "Can't you see I'm talking to a lady!" We persevered and

finally found the road to Oxford, sped up it to within sight of

Magdalen Bridge and then stopped dead. The car took three weeks to

repair, but at least we had reached our destination on time.

Somerville from 1929 to 1931 when I was in residence had

attracted an outstanding group of students, many of whom have

remained my close friends. Sheila MacDonald's father had been

Prime Minister from 19 to 19 and, on his rare visits to the

college, we all kept behind half-drawn curtains. Eirene Lloyd

Jones's father had been the senior official for Lloyd George's

cabinet during World War I, and I relished hearing how they had
transmit
used their native Welsh to/- /information during the Paris Peace

Conference, confident with reason that it would defy the French

efforts at code-breaking.

- -

-17-

Ane of n.y most vivfi memories is of spending my second

-aster vacation with :irene at Gregynor, a na-:ificent half

timbered man-iion in tales set in a spacious and Qeauti.fully

kt >-.rde!n. I not only met its gracious hostesses, the isses

nvies, ?,:t also was entranced by the "aster music in its great

hall, directed i-y -ir Adrian oult, one of the 7reat conductors

of hi.-s ti.e, and sung most beautifully by the local 'elsh choir.

speciall sections ,.re sun by visiting soloists with whom we shared

the top floor.

?othin r auite like it had ever happened to me or, indeed,

was to hadpcn again but during a small motor trin through Vales

in the sur-.er of 1938, I again visited ;jregynog with -.irene, whose

flat had been my London home while I spent much of July in that

city. .y that time she was Lady .-'hite continuing to take the

active role in the H-ouse of Lords that followed her experiences

as a journalist with the Mlancbheter Guardian and as a Labour

member of the iouse of Commons. The .i-ss Davies had died and

the mansion had been deeded to the University of Aberystwich

where Sirene's father's papers are held. I also visited the

universityy of .iales where Airene herself held an important post

and commnuted sontimes weekly from her London responsibilities.

Lot surprisingly, I linked my -regynog reunion to a splendid

motor trip. through much of 'ales's mamnificert scenery and historic

centers, tbfore returning, happily saturated with beauty, to attend

a iondon conference on Southern 'frica a; the Institute of

'oron.'- ,'eal th Affa ir:1.

"t

aideleine C?,rI-hoir:er rcnd I shared adjoin 3 ;. room- durinr- my

econ.,d ",.r sat *o.-mrviU.e and often heated our owni .'.'.r ~tich

iche "'''.; fror;, the co'-" over our o sr co-l fi.re- that ecre

a. feature of the times. :adeleine belongi-ed to a: fa. .l that had con-

trollin- interests in .-,_.-.lo-.vaerica'3s old mii.ne 1 u frica.

through her I had an opportunity to meet her uncle, -ir

Oppenheiner when I first went to louth Africa in and to have

luncheon .with him on the verandah overlooking? his MaF-ificent

and beautifully desi.-ied gardens. :.hen I casually asked how nany

gardeners he had to keep it looking so beautiful he said va.guely

"fifty or si;-ty or so" so I r'uickly dropped that part of our con-

versatieni! :ore to iy interests he explained to me the importance

of the new gold fields in the Free State and the significance of

other recent economic developments in southh Africa.

;Althoughb I ai confident he would not reennber it, his son,

Ernest, and I shared soome political picnics when I was seekingr to

analyze the impact of the 1948 election that established the

-Afrikaner '.ationalists in their dominant position in South African

politics. It was confirmed by their ensuing victory in 19 3,

which I also studied at first hand. .y one and only detailed

election analysis was on t~at decisive election and it ultimately

became a section of THE POIITIC3 OP I UA-ITXY S;O H ARI:CA

.IC., 193:8, that, after it was turned down by the Harvard Univer-

sity Press, was published by Praeger in 195;8.

''he most stimulating of my classmates cat ..o.ervil., l '.uv

Rosemary (later known as Ray) Cochrane. -:y thinking was sharpened

throuFh the many long evenings we snent debating a ranwle of

-19-
practical and theoretical issues of the day. Ray was also very

generous. During my second ear at Somerville the powers-that-be

decided that with final exams impending so much walking to lectures

and other academic engagements through the constant and somewhat

erractic Oxford traffic was too tiring for me. Ray Cochrane

generously volunteered her car and she and Basile Anglin drove

me to them. When vacation came again, Basile and I took the

same car to Devon and to Ireland for my first visit there and

thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Returning to the college, we waited anxiously for the

official news on the results from the final round of examinations

that determined the rank of one's degree. We all hoped that

Rosemary Cochrane and Peggy Joseph would get firsts and both did.

There was a slight delay over returns for the former because the

examiners, not to our surprise, could not read her writing and

she had to type them all! I was well satisfied with my second

class honors, particularly since Miss Clark told me that all my

papers were B plus to B-plus and nothing below that level. On

my viva, I was asked by Kenneth Bell about the Puritans under

Elizabeth. As I wrote home, there "didn't seem much use in

inventing" so I simply said I didn't know much about them, as

was obvious. He was very nice and said he was sure I had concen-

trated on the other part of the period! I was quite satisfied for

these returns were good enough to admit me somewhat later to

Harvard with advanced standing which meant I could complete the

work for a PhD in two rather than the customary three years. I

wasn't "brilliant" as the Hamrilton Sectator headlined me but I

could make the grade.

-20-

What meant so much during my time at Oxford was not only my

new experiences there and abroad, but a new kind of conversation

about pressing issues. Hitler's shadow was extending both inside

and outside Germany, and my Jewish friends, in particular, were

apprehensive. Some of them castigated public opinion in general

less for its failure to recognize the dangers than to seek ways

of change that could provide a kind of insulation against them.

Although we had long discussions on many issues while I was at

St. Hilda's, they seemed shallow beside those in which I had

found myself involved at Somerville and elsewhere abroad.

WIDENING MY HORIZONS

Before I left for Oxford, I had had considerable

experience both with local Girl Guide Companies and those in

other parts of Canada, and had thrown myself wholeheartedly

into their activities. I liked the motto "Be Prepared," the

orderliness of their meetings and excursions, and perhaps

above all, the variety of backgrounds and interests of those

with whom I came in contact through the movement. It was so
,I found,
easy/to have long discussions about other places and countries

with some of the more serious minded and experienced of senior

Guiders and commissioners, the leaders of companies or divisions,

who would come to Hamilton in connection with various Guiding

events. All of this added materially to my life, particularly

in vacation time, and whetted my appetite for similar oppor-

tunities. My mother also was attracted by the movement and

threw some of her great energy and administrative skills into

their activities.

There were, of course, certain limitations on what I

could join in both physically and because of other commitments.

For the local paper, I.had long written up the weekly activities

of the Guides in and around Hamilton. I also ran by corres-

pondence my own Lone Guide company of isolated individuals.

During one summer while I was at St. Hilda's, I had organized

a camp for them at a conveniently located farm that was owned

by the parents of two of the Lone Guides. Fran Brigstock

from St. Hilda's, who also had had Guiding experience, came

along to help. We all set up our tents near a small stream

and spent a week emulating as best we could the kind of rituals

and activities that full-scale Girl Guide camps used. Fran

and I were, not surprisingly, exhausted by its end, and I

remember lying in the grass fast asleep for hours after the

affair was over. At least, everyone said it had been a great

success!

An earlier Guiding event, going across Canada on our

own special train, stopping at major centers like Winnepeg,

Calgary and Banff, and camping for more than a week on Van-

couver Island had introduced me in a particularly attractive

manner to much of my own country. At each point, local guides

took us on tour to be sure we did not miss special points of

interest. What I remember most vividly was the Royal Canadian

Mounties who put on a dazzling display of horsemanship for our

benefit. I wrote a long jingle about it, but, unfortunately

or perhaps fortunately, it has disappeared, but the memories

linger on.

Just prior to starting at Somerville, I attended

an international Guiders' camp in France and through it made

many new friendships that enriched my time at Oxford and there-

after. The most important new friend was Mary Hanson whose

friendship and introductions to her relatives living in a

magnificent estate near Oxford and to her parents living in

Exeter in Devon added much to my enjoyment and experiences.

The most important and lasting of these connections has been

Alethea Robson, her cousin, who came to Canada in October 1961

to stay with my father after Mother died and after he too

passed away in 1964 moved with me to Evanston as I took up my

new post at Northwestern University. Fortunately, she has

stayed as my companion and helpmate ever since.

A unique experience as I was ending my time at Oxford

came as a result of my earlier Guiding experience and contact

with those in England. An international camp was being organ-

ized in Finland, and I was eager to attend it not only to

visit a new country and its people, but also to experience

one that shared a frontier with the Soviet Union. Our group

from England went via Denmark and Sweden, giving us a brief

view of those tidy, self-respecting and intellectually stimu-

lating countries. Arriving by boat we stayed briefly in

Helsingfors (now Helsinki) where three of us were given the

dressing room to ourselves behind the stage of a huge auditorium!

Seeing the city by daylight we were impressed by its modern

yet distinctively Finnish architecture with buildings carefully

placed so as not to obstruct the view of the harbor. We also

admired what we learned of Finland's long experience of

constitutional rule.

The camp itself was in Keuruu, Parkoleiri, a relatively

isolated part of northern Finland. At night, we would lie

outside our tents and watch the North Star on the horizon

and spectacular Northern Lights.

There were large groups of Guides and Guiders at the

camp both from Finland and the three other Scandanavian

countries, Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. Among them, the

Norwegians appeared to be the most athletic, doing energetic

physical exercises in the nude every morning outside their

tents, before plunging into the icy water that bounded the

camp. The Scandanavians were also far less inhibited in

other aspects of their toilet, sitting in rows opposite

each other for their daily routines.

We sensitive visitors, Phyllis Kirkpatrick and I

from Canada, one from Australia, and several from England,

rigged up a more sheltered place for ourselves with our

knapsacks. Unfortunately, it became such a source of curiosity

as to give rise to inquisitive peeking to see what those odd

people were at! Gradually, we too joined in the steam baths,

beat each other with birch rods, or scrubbed with heavy brushes

and ended up, as I wrote home, feeling and probably being

"clean as we never were before."

Despite the differences of language and customs, we

all became close friends. Even our freckled Australian

colleague, Jess Boyes, who became my life-long friend,

ultimately laughed over the deathly silence that had greeted

her when she was introduced at the official opening ceremony

in Helsinki. "We thought she would be black!" explained

our embarrassed hosts.

The aftermath to the Finnish Guide camp was, if any-

thing even more thought-provoking. The train we fortunately

had to ourselves went very close to the Soviet border,

thereby combining superb sightseeing with some very unexpected

sights. One that I remember vividly because I found it so

startling was to find memorials in Finnish cemeteries thanking

the Germans for their help during World War I. It took

quite an adjustment in my thinking to realize that the Germans

had provided the Finnish army with help against a Russian

invasion at a time that the Allies and thus we in Canada had

been engaged in fighting Germany.

Even though the trip to Finland had lengthened the time

that Dad was alone as Mother had come over for my end of term

and stayed on with Uncle Well, it seemed more than sensible

that before I went home to Hamilton I should continue with our

plans that I go to Strasbourg and get a solid grounding in French

as a written but, more particularly, as a spoken language. The

arrangements had already been made for a place there to live and

for the tutoring I would need and I slipped into them easily.

Moreover, I found Strasbourg itself proved to be a fascinating

place with scenic surroundings and, as I was to find to my

delight, fairly easy access to Belgium and even an odd bit of

Germany. It was intended as a work period and I used it as such

except for occasional small trips when my tutors were otherwise

engaged. I was especially encouraged to become fluent by an

amusing experience in the hotel where I was staying. A small

visiting Spaniard accosted an English woman in the lobby with

the question: "How many languages do you speak?", repeating

the question even more forcefully when she did not reply. The

woman finally said: "English and a little French." Whereupon

the young Spaniard said with great satisfaction: "I speak French

and English and German and Spanish, and all perfectly!" which

proved to be true. I never reached that standard either of

excellence or of number of languages but at least my French

became pretty good and ultimately my German, too, though they have

deteriorated through lack of use over the years.

When I returned home to Hamilton in 1931, life seemed

unbearably dull in comparison with what I had been immersed in

at Oxford and beyond. One new feature, however, was that McMaster

University, a predominately Baptist institution, had recently

established its main campus on the outskirts of the city. After

visits here and yon with old friends in Montreal, Ottawa, and

elsewhere, I finally sought some stimulation through reading in

the stacks at the University. It didn't help! One noon, I

suddenly could stand it no longer. I sped up two flights of stairs

on my crutches and knocked on the door of the Chancellor,

Dr. Howard Whidden. Surprisingly, he was still there. I remember

saying to him: "Dr. Whidden, I can't stand it any longer! I

have to have something to do." Whereupon, to my relief, he

replied that he and others, including Dr. Chester New, their

well-known historian, had been talking about me and could offer

me a small amount of teaching with an introductory history course.

I accepted on the spot!

It mattered little that within a few weeks, I with all

the others teaching at McMaster at that time were brought to a

meeting with the Board of Trustees and informed that, because of

the university's financial difficulties due to the prevailing

depression, all members of the staff had to take a fifteen percent
0a arectcw 1e, -is;rry
cut in salary. So my $350 a year salary/ was reduced before I had

had my first paycheck! At least I was better off than my young

colleague, Billy Wallace, with his University of Toronto honors

degree in hand, who had his $100 a year equally reduced! At

least he was provided free room and board in the dormitory but I,

of course, was living at home.

My new position involved meeting sections twice a week for the

lecture course in European history that was taught by Dr. New, and

also marking the essays and exams in his course. Thus, I was able to

gain some basic training in teaching through almost daily contact

with an experienced and most helpful master in the field. In between,

I was even permitted to give an occasional lecture in the course. To

the intense amazement of the class, I read my lecture as was done in

England but never, apparently, in Canada. It was a practice that did

not last long as I found myself with more and more opportunities to

give less stylized talks both at the University and outside.

With time. and energy still unused, I established a lecture course

on current events at the Y.W.C.A. to which many of the older ladies

in Hamilton used to come. Events were moving all too quickly in Europe,

and I wouldFhave just described the Austrian Anschluss when Hitler

would take still more threatening moves in Central Europe. It must

have been an amusing sight to any outsider to see the rows of earnest

faces of women of Mother's age and interests bent over their notepads,

scribbling away as I did my best to make current events intelligible

to them, let alone to myself!

By this time, I had a car that I could drive by myself, the one

great essential for feeling independent. I had tried lightening the

clutch on a Ford, but I did not feel safe. One well-remembered day,

I was in Toronto window shopping by myself while my parents were other-

wise engaged. Suddenly, on a garage window beside me I saw "The new

Plymouth with an automatic clutch." I hurried inside to make sure it

was really the case, then rushed to tell my parents about it, and had

bought one for myself before the end of the week. It was dark green and,

in my view, the most beautiful car in the world- I promptly named

it 'Shanghai Lily' after Marlene Dietrich's new film. It was

to take me hundreds of miles on holidays, as well as on more

mundane trips, and ultimately down to the States when I went

to Radcliffe. Since then, I have never been without a car that

I could drive by myself.

Despite varied activities at McMaster and elsewhere,

I was still restless. My old friend Peter Cheswright and others

convinced me that I should go to Radcliffe College, Harvard

University, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and take a graduate

degree. It was almost four years since I had left Somerville

and the idea of further study taken at an advanced level was

attractive. So it happened that after a delightful motor trip

in Shang during which I visited briefly with several old friends,

I arrived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and settled myself in

Trowbridge House which was set aside for the graduate students.

On September 24, 1935, Miss Ada Comstock and others greeted us

on the university's opening day and a very short time later

classes began.

I had confirmed my earner decision to work for my PhD

in political science and there was an impressive group of

professors with whom to begin my studies. George Grafton Wilson

was a well known specialist in international law which I was to

find particularly interesting. I even took to rather labored

verse (appended) to summarize some of its lessons. He introduced

me to the project of a clipping thesis through which current

events were analysed in terms of their handling nationally and

internationally, and it became a favorite project of mine for my

own students.

GOVERNMENT 23. 1935/36

Gov. twenty-three
Has proved to be
A course full of variety
From fishery
To ships at sea,
Commissions of inquiry.

We've met Renault
And learned to know
Decisions good or rated low!
As judgments flow
All in a row
So sometimes wish they would go

The law we find
Is kept in mind
By illustrations well designed
To show the kind
Of margin line
Where extradition treaties bind.

slow.

Jurisdiction's
Not a fiction
Nor a sovereignty restriction.
That's a fact
Most people lack
Viz.: Turner's servitude conviction!

The court mondiale
Must without fail
Yearly consider Roland's wail;
In things postal
Or fluvial
It tries to make its will prevail.

Sissors we snip
And papers clip
As in the newest facts we dip
Your comments real
Have made us feel
(Etc.) That round the world we've had a trip.

War averting
No one hurting
Automatic sanctions working
They can be bold
Against all told
Without discrimination lurking.

So now the legal forms we read
Have meaning and a life, indeed,
And through it all, we've learned to feel
For values that are true and real
To test the logic of a case
To meet the problems face to face.
We, too, I hope, have learned to seek:
Convictions formulate and speak.
To stand for justice in the nations
To understand their situations
And find between ourselves and them
The bond of being fellow men,
Which, coupled with the world ideal
Could bring the synthesis you feel
Of nationalism's vital force
And internationalism's course.

What particularly fascinated me, however, was political

theory taught with great skill and subtlety- by Professor McIlwain.

William Yandell Elliot, with whom I subsequently wrote my thesis

on British Commonwealth relations, was offering a course on

modern political thought which I also took but it seemed to me

to lack the insights and provocativeness of earlier writers

like Plato and Aristotle.

It was at Radcliffe that I met Louise Holborn, who became my

lifelong friend and colleague in thought and often in action, if not
the same
always in employment. We had our own rooms in /rather small residence

at Radcliffe College, and my first impression of her was rushing down-

stairs with her arms full of books en route to one or another of the

coaching engagements with which she was trying to meet her expenses.
something
Her English left / to be Tesired (as my German also did) but her

energy and enthusiasm for whatever she was engaged in was contageous.

Moreover, Louise had a much better background in international

law, political analysis and much of academia, not to mention much

wider experience in earning her living than any of the rest of us.

She had trained in Germany as a social worker, worked in East Germany

as its forced massive transfer of population took place at the end of

World War I, studied at the highly regarded Hochscule fur Politique

in Berlin, and had enormous energy.

She and I developed a mutually useful exchange of capacities.

I could and did correct her papers and help to interpret her flow of

ideas that were sometimes overwhelming. Academically, however, she was

far more sophisticated and, in some respects, better trained than I

was. Moreover, her brilliant historian brother, Hajo Holborn, with

a post at nearby Yale, would always help in a crisis.

In addition, Louise performed all kinds of physical tasks that

made life much easier for me. In turn, I taught her to drive at least

passably well, though she was always so eager to get ahead that we got
very
involved in somepharrow squeaks!

After a tough year of lectures, seminars, and what

seemed like endless papers to write and present in all our academic

fields, Louise and I were more than ready for a summer vacation.

I wanted to combine visits to my Somerville friends in England

with appointments with specialists particularly useful for my

projected dissertation on the British Commonwealth and inter-

national organization. Louise had to go to Germany where her

mother had not been very well and where she also had business

affairs to look after. Both of us were interested in contacts

in Geneva which would be an essential center for Louise's study

of international aid for refugees, and mine on British Common-

wealth and international security which was ultimately to become

the title of my first book. My parents agreed to my glowing

picture of what was in store for us and we started off by ship

for Europe in June after handing over Shan, my car, to keep for

me for the summer.

Ray Cochrane was a willing host for me at Fresden Farm

in the Cotswords where she was most comfortably settled with

her friend, Enid. Coming down to London in early July, I

revelled in a welcome series of engagements with friends like

Sheila MacDonald, Phyllis Goodhart, Clarisse Goldschmidt who

was to marry Nicky Kaldor, Mary Hanson and her friend Noel

Woodward, and Madeleine Oppenheimer, soon to be Mrs. Patrick

Devlin.

But I also had more serious arrangements to make. I had

never met Harold Laski of the London School of Economics but

Emerson from Toronto days had written to him about me and despite

his alarming reputation I found him charming and most helpful in

regard to people I should see in Geneva. My friend, Miss

Westley of the Institute of International Affairs, to whom

George Glazebrook had given me a letter to deliver personally,

introduced me to the secretary of its discussion groups who

led me to their Investigation Department which prepares answers

to significant questions sent in to them. I also visited their

press cutting service which left me "completely thrilled" as I

reported to my family! Perhaps it was that experience that has

made me an inveterate filer of newspaper clippings ever since.

Other visits were to Canada House to see Pearson, by then High

Commissioner and to the League of Nations Union office for

further Geneva contacts. There Mr. Jones wrote out several

introductions for me and on one of them put "tell her the truth

and if you can't, get your wife to do so."

Finally, we decided that we must make our way to Germany

where Louise's mother was awaiting us in the Black Forest. We

crossed the Channel on a very calm sea with the fog just lifting.

A porter found us comfortable seats on the train in a compart-

ment shared by what I described in my letter home as "a little

man with a Cockney accent" who, I later discovered, was travelling.

on a document issued to persons "who cannot obtain a Passport."

He became increasingly nervous as the train neared Cologne, asking

about changing money, etc. Louise and I rearranged our papers,

destroyed some that were unnecessary, and attempted to enjoy

the scenery! At one point, as we were nearing the border, the

man commented rather loudly "The Germans must have had a hard

time coming through here" but my recollection was that they had

come through so much more quickly than had been expected that

they were through the most difficult part before effective

resistance could be mounted.

German trainmen took over from the Belgians to bring

the train into and across Germany. Explosive bursts of conver-

sation in French from nearby compartments heightened the tension.

In a short time, the train drew up at Aachen for the frontier

crossing. People started to jump out onto the platform and

hurried to change money, or show documents to officials outside

our windows. A man suddenly asked at the door of our compartment

whether anyone spoke German to which Louise replied that she did

to his great relief. At that moment, however, a French girl

rushed down the corridor and poured out a flood of French

which neither of the German officials could understand. I

managed to tell them that she wanted to know where to declare

her money, and suggested she return to her compartment and

eventually she withdrew with much waving of hands! The German

official was obviously very relieved and went through our boxes

very quickly. He seemed helpless, however, about my decision

not to go out on the platform and was very relieved when Louise

offered to go out for me. She told me afterwards that there

was vast confusion there with people shouting and an Englishman

shaking his fist with frustration! She managed to get my money

changed at the appropriate wicket with the customs man helping

her, and, of course, had none of he-r wn to bother with.

While she was out of the carriage, a man in a grey-

brown suit came into my compartment and asked for passports. I

answered in English which he obviously did not understand but

the man produced his certificate which was stamped. He also

apparently explained about Louise getting things done for me outside

whereupon the official left and never came back. Louise returned

with myAcertificate saying I could take in my letter of credit

and remaining English money. She went off to have her trunk

examined and came back saying they had crushed her dresses in

feeling around them but that was all.

Suddenly the train moved off. An official came in

to check our tickets and announced that we would be in Cologne

in twenty minutes. We were inside Germany and no one had

even seen Louise's passport. It was a great relief to her as

she had feared some trouble, or even being held by the police

because of her long absence from the country. Not surprisingly,

Louise and I were both exhausted by the experience but also

exhilirated. By mere chance, we had escaped an ordeal that

might have been serious for Louise and came through astonishingly

well.

My first experience of Nazi Germany was of its symbols

everywhere. The swastika was whitewashed on the hillsides, and

the Nazi flag was on every public building, and almost all

private ones. I relished hearing how Louise's mother had

refused to have one hung outside the window of her Berlin

apartment by maintaining that as an old lady the draught would

be dangerous! In the Black Forest where we joined her I asked

who some black uniformed soldiers were, and she replied loudly

"the SS, the murderers." It was quite clear that Louise's

own defiant attitudes ran in the family.

SEEKING MY WAY IN ACADEMIA AND RESEARCH

CHAPTER TWO

a. Washington, Geneva and Wellesley

b. Smith College, Major Foreign Powers, England and Ireland

S- seeking My Way in Academia and Research

Chapter Two a WASHINGTON, GENEVA AND WELLESLEY

What could have been more exailirating than living in

Washington ih January 1937 when Franklin Delano Roosevelt was

inaugurated once more as President of the United States. I

had a prize seat for the ceremony in the window of a library

strategically situated on a corner just beyond where he reviewed

the procession and I cheered wildly as the Army band and the

Army and Navy cadets and a host of dignatories paraded in

his honor. Roosevelt was such a splendid person that I almost

decided at that moment to become an American citizen. In fact,

however, I waited until the United States had entered World
Wt n tLnlJ It-1'sW War II and,.I had made up my mind that this country was the place

where I would work and spend the rest of my life, as it has

proved to be.

While I had settled myself in Washington because of its

splendid library collections of which I was to take full

advantage, the need to apply for another grant to travel

abroad was also omnipresent. I had been vastly encouraged

before I went to Europe to have had a letter frnm Miss Overacker

of Wellesley College saying she was going on leave and that my

international law professor, George Grafton Wilson, had written

her about me. While fortunately she found someone more suitable

for that rather advanced post, I deeply appreciated his

reconmendation andthe knowledge that he, and apparently

others among my professors, including Professor McIlwain, thought

sufficiently well of my potential to make such a suggestion.

While I could hardly have turned down such a splendid oppor-

tunity, I knew that I really needed much more reading for my

dissertatiorand, if possible, a wider experience abroad, before

I undertook even a temporary teaching job.

So the need to apply for fellowships became omnipresent.

I was overwhelmed at how many there were and all of them had

"highly original questions and require a great deal of thought

and an amazing amount of paper" I wrote home. Moreover, they

all had to be applied for before February 1, 1937, with innumerable

copies of my application and photographs of me! I added happily

in my letter home that it was such fun to know that so many

people would have an "opportunity to gaze on my charming

physiognomy" but from experience later gained I doubt if the

photographs made much difference except to show that I was "not

yet old and haggard."

What was important, of course, was the support I got

from those withwhom I had worked at Radcliffe. G. G. Wilson

had written me to say he "would re~ormnnd me without reservation

for any position which Ifelt myself that I could carry."

McIlwain wrote that I was one of the "best people he had had

in recent years." Elliott had also written "a nice letter"

but was "tremendously keen that I should go abroad again to get

more material." So was I! Hajo Holborn went over my most

recent grant proposal for study abroad and also wrote in support

of it to the Royal Society and other foundations so I was not

lacking in support.

Facilities for my research in Washington were also

forthcoming. The libraries at the Library of Congress provided

both Louise and me with "large desks side by side in the corner

of the stacks" and lamps and "comfortable chairs," all of which,

I wrote home happily, "made me feel like a full blown professor!"

I carried on quite an extensive correspondence with the Secretary

of the New Zealand Institute of International Affairs, among

many others, and successfully arranged to get copies of papers
/
they had prepared.and thereby also established contacts that I

was able to build upon during the summer when I was in London

and Geneva collecting ever more Commonwealth material.

Finally, as it seemed to me, I received a most welcome

hand written letter from Lawrence Burpee of the International

Joint Commission dated April 19, 1937, to say that I had been

awarded a Voyal society fellowship. Moreover, he added that

the committee that decided on the award had put my application

first among the thirty-five who had entered that particular

section of their scholarship competition. The great thing, of

course, was that I had my grant for work overseas, and the

fact that it was the one for which I had most wished gave the

news even more meaning. I quickly wrote to the many other

organizations from which I had been seeking funds, at least

two of which were on the point of turning me down, and was

able to tell them I was already looked after!

Washington in the spring was intoxicating in its beauty.

Louise and I joined the many thousands worshipping the beauty

of the cherry blossoms, paid our respects to the Lincoln

Memorial, and behaved like all the other tourists! We found

a small cottage outside of town, however, and spent quiet

nights there in between the spells buried in the library stacks,

sa writing feverishly lest our new found knowledge should

disappear. There was so much to absorb and add to our bulging

notebooks but summer was approaching and as usual, we had plans

for Europe.

After a brief visit to Ottawa to speak with my sponsors:,

at the Royal Society, and a slightly longer one at home where

fortunately all was going well, Louise and I left for London

by ship once more. Cunard took charge of our surplus luggage,

trunks and my bulging suitcase, and promised them for our

Channel crossing a week later. It became rather a rush to fit

in all the places and people I wanted to visit both for personal

and professional reasons. Mike Pearson at Canada House generously

offered to let me read some of his personal papers on my return,

Chatham House, the Royal Institute of International Affairs

promised to collect material for me and, in particular,

the relevant debates on international affairs in Dominion

parliaments and keep them for my return. Since I couldn't get

extra copies of the Manchurian debates, I settled myself down

with a typewriter and tried to make sense of that extremely

complicated issue before I left.

London was full of the Edward and Wally affair which I

naturally saw as "a great tragedy." As I commented in my letter

home, "whatever happensja bond of trust in a man'.who symbolized

the Crown is broken." Uncle John had earlier commented wisely

that 'they drove him too hard when he was only a boy" but few

people were remembering that. My own view which I had put in

an article sent to The Saturday Evening Post was that "the

spontaneous reaction all through the Commonwealth and feeling for

Baldwi and the constitutional issue are the best things and in

some way may have forged their own bond," but the article was

rejected so I d4nbt know whether it was because they disagreed

or did not think it was written well enough. I suggested to

Charlie that he rewrite it and try again but I ddnbt think

he did.

And so off to Germany once more so that Louise could

handle tve complicated business affairs prior to her formal

emigration to the United States. Threats to Germans abroad

of the death penalty for those who had taken out funds to

other countries without official authorization had been

publicized in Washington while we were working there. Louise

felt naturally that it would also be safer for her mother if

all -eq official formalities prior to emigration had been

fulfilled.
As usual, we met with her mother when we arrived in

Germany, and we were travelling together from Dusseldorf on

July 28, 1937, while Louise stopped off in the afternoon for

a day in Heidelberg. Her mother and I were still in the station

when she had a sudden heart attack. A doctor was called immedi-

ately but she had died even before he could get there. I

reached Louise by phone and she arrived early in the morning

to take charge. We went, of course, to Berlin where the

funeral was held.
In a way, we all knew that it was the easiest way for

Mrs. Holborn as she would soon have realized that it would

become increasingly difficult if not impossible for Louise to

return to Germany even though we could not guess that the

following year Hitler would launch his putsch in Austria. As

it was, Louise was able to wind up all her affairs in Berlin

in early August and we left for the Black Forest and a splendid

holiday there. One of the last things that Mrs. Holborn had

said to me was; "It means so much to me to know that Isi (Louise's

pet name) has Gwen and Gwen has Isi." I was grateful that I

could be with Louise while she made her final arrangements to

leave Germany forever or at least until the Nazi menace was over.

By the end of August, we were in Geneva having had a

remarkably easy crossing of'the border the day before. We were

in a crowded compartment with two families of Scandinavians

who were openly hostile to the official who came to look at

our passports and money and bags and he seemed somewhat

intimidated! On the platform, scores of Germans were being

harassed and some were not allowed back on the train so it was

well that Louise was the only one in our compartment.

Once in Geneva, we went on Peggy Joseph's advice to the

student hostel in Campaign Rigot, a large park next to the League

of Nations, and only a short distance from the International

Labour Office. The accommodation, especially on the ground
that was
floor for me was pretty primative, but/outweighed by the advantages

of location and helpfulness of the local staff. Although there

was a large student group housed there when we arrived, they

left soon and, in any case, we had our meals with four older

people. As I wrote home, "it is all very like camping but it

is quite fun to do it together and Louise is a good sport. It

also is extremely cheap!"

Our Geneva period consisted largely of calling on officials

like Mr. Riddell at the Canadian Embassy whom I had talked with

before, other Commonwealth personnel, United Nations officials

and anyone else recommended who could help me secure information

on what attitudes had been taken by Commonwealth members on

important security issues. There was also much reading and

making copious notes from documents difficult to secure elsewhere.

Louise was pursuing similar lines of inquiry on her own refugee

topics. We used to meet in the evenings and pr the gems of

information we had secured and made notes on before writing

them down in proper form in our large notebooks which grew and

grew. No one thought of using a tape recorder in those days,

nor do I believe it would have been acceptable if we had tried

to do so. Thus, the scribbled notes had to be carefully

elaborated with such details as we could remember. In fact,

they were very considerable as I happily found out when I came

to write the dissertation and ultimately the book afterwards.
From Geneva,% we went to Paris where we combined our many

interviews with attending magnificent operas and other musical

delights. And so to London to build on the arrangements I had

made when I was there earlier and use my ever expanding contacts

to find out more about the inside stories of what had really

gone on during Commonwealth and League meetings. Whether or not

I would ever be able to use them in print, they provided me with

the atmosphere of the time which was so essential for an overall

understanding of what lay behind the documents I had so faith-

fully perused.

Back to Cambridge with Louise after a splendid Christmas

vacation at home. I had written my report for the Royal Society

detailing the use I had made with their fellowship in Geneva and

elsewhere and received an appreciative letter from Mr. Burpee

in January, 1938, saying that I would receive the rest of the

grant when they got a report on my research overseas from Mike

Pearson in London. It came along in the nick of time! Louise

and I had found a conveniently placed flat and were very pleased

with the necessary second hand furniture we had bought. We were

both busy writing our dissertations with frequent visits to the

libraries to check on salient facts. It marked the beginning of

the end of a very long process but, as we both knew, it was

the end result which was all important.

In between writing, I paid a visit to Radcliffe to make

sure that Miss Stedman and Mrs. Cronkhite would keep me in mind

for a job for the next year. Surveying possibilities, I com-

mented sagely if sadly "that introductions and personal contacts

seem essential in this job hunting game." We had welcome visits

from Hajo Holborn and Felix Gilbert (whom I assured my family

I did not plan to marry, nor he me!) which enabled us to draw

on their experience of writing dissertations though we knew, of

course, that we were responsible for their final forms. On a

return visit to Yale, I threw loyalty to the winds and decided

"it was more like a university to me than dear old Harvard, even

if it is all pseudo-Gothic!" Plugging away at the dissertation,

I had completed the second chapter and was wrestling with the

introduction "on which would depend the whole tone of the study".,

I wrote home. My plan was to finish it all by the end of March

to which Elliott reacted by saying he didn't see how it was

possible but that it would certainly "simplify a great many

problems," as it did.

March, in fact, also brought the offer of a job at

Wellesley College with courses both in history and political

science. My work in both fields had been a major factor in

the appointment, and also Radcliffe's assurance of my teaching

skills and my health. In mid-March at Wellesley Professor

Curtis took me to meet Miss McAfee, the President, and she

stressed the variety of my training and experience, which pleased

me very much. I had not realized before I went to see her that

they had already made up their minds and was delighted to learn

they were starting me at $2200 a year, although instructors

were usually started at $1800.

Mr. Curtis, the chairman of the history department, had

rearranged my schedule so that I would teach five, instead of

six days a week with a twelve hour program: two three hour

courses in Modern European history for freshmen, 1648 to the end

of the World War, and for sophomores an equal number in modern

governments: the United States, France, Germany, Italy and

Russia, and their fundamental principles. I foresaw that with

four hours teaching on Friday, I'd be ready for the weekend!

Several faculty members from the two departments,

including Louise Overacker and Peggy Ball from political science,

came to see me while I was there which made me feel very welcome.

A former friend, Judith Williamson in history, had me to dinner

and answered the myriad of questions in my mind. One special touch

was that someone in the registrars office told me she had put

all my classes in the same ground floor room which she thought

quite rightly would be convenient for me. I have vivid recol-

lections of it and of the students, some of whom, like Mary

Gardiner Jones, became close friends I still cherish, Cr-A >eyet'V
<;> lmSv-,

With these incentives, I tidied up the thesis and it was

accepted although with the necessary warning that it would need

more material and much more shaping before I could even consider

publication. I also had my viva which spent too much attention

on international law for my taste so I told them I had concen-

trated on international relations and they helpfully switched

their questions. Louise and I both received honorable mention

so we were happily ready for the Baccalaureate.

We had to spend all Sunday morning to practice going

in and out of the cathedral, sitting down in our proper seats

and getting up again, and singing "Jerusalem," which seemed the

appropriate hymn for the occasion although no one explained why!

But when the Baccalaureate itself began, it was magnificent.

Louise and I had had our PhD gowns made in Germany with

broad blue velvet lapels facing the opening at the front. No

one else had such elegant gowns and there were quiet murmurs

of appreciation as I led the procession across the platform

where one by one, and with all due ceremony, each of us received

our accolade and had the Harvard hood decked around our neck

and shoulders. Mrs. Cronkhite gave a magnificent Commencement

speech saying that many throughout the country were speaking

of the impending disaster of war but that she had an abiding

faith that whatever happened character and intelligence were

goods in themselves and provided an external legacy for mankind.

Even before the ceremony took place, Louise and I had

been offered the use for the summer of the Elliott's big old

rambling farmhouse in Belmont which lies somewhat higher than

Cambridge. It had a huge room built on outside which housed a

piano that delighted Louise's heart, and also, of course, a

radio. It was surrounded by five acres of rough land and lots

of trees. There were also coups of chickens with little fluffy

chicks which Elliott himself brought into the house to show us.

Of course, we accepted the offer on the spot. It would be a

wonderful base for our own work and also gave us an opportunity

to provide hospitality for lots of good friends like Dietrich

Herhart and, of course, Felix Gilbert.

When we went out to lunch one day to discuss the property

Elliott was ready to spend time also on my dissertation. He

suggested breaking it up into articles and combining them later

into a book but I think I decided at that time to try for publi-

cation after having put a lot more work into it. It finally

appeared in 1947 as The British Commonwealth and International

Security: The Role of the Dominions, _1919-193, published by

the Ryerson Press for the Canadian Institute of International

Affairs, by that time I had already made use of some of the

material in a Foreign Policy Reports, the first of several I was

to write under the expert editorship of Vera MichaelJDean.

The move to Wellesley that fall only immediately pre-

ceded the holocaust there and other places near enough to the

ocean to catch the brunt of New England's first hurricane.

Louise and I were driving to ta~k- ty in Shang as the sky grew

darker and the wind stronger and the rain more incessant. I

remember that I managed to squeeze the car through the near entry

of the garage next door which already had more than its usual

complement of vehicles. Louise and I walked hastily through

/2-

the rain across the back garden of the house where I had tem-

porarily rented a couple of rooms and the trees were already

swaying menacingly. We were fascinated to watch from my room

at the top of the house as branches began falling or spinning

through the air. Suddenly, Louise said "We must tell the land-

lady her tree has turned up side down" and then we both roared

with laughter that we should think the poor old lady could do

anything about it! Mr. Curtis phoned the authorities next

morning to tell them that one of his trees had lost a branch

and was greeted with scorn for his street was one of the few in

the city that did not have all its trees down and blocking any

kind of movement by car.

The saddest place was the once beautiful Wellesley
_-o 4_^ 1-
campus where there was a virtual holocaust. Iss Overacker

said to me afterwards that "I am only happy that you have known

Wellesley before this happened." Miss MacAfee, the President,

was seen walking distractedly on the campus agonizing over the

fact that the tower on the main administration had blown over

and crashed into the room below and onlyAshortly before her

thrifty spirit had led her to refuse to buy building insurance

against hurricane damage. By great good fortune, the bursar

had disobeyed her and taken it out while the cost was relatively

low. He must have felt very good when he was able to give her

the news that they were fully covered for the repairs were, of

course, very costly.

Wellesley classes started early in September 1938 and

I was eager to see my students and presumably they were equally

curious to see their new teacher. I had well prepared syllabi

for both courses and some suggestions for an optional current

events session on one of my two "free" afternoons. The weather

was fine, the air crisp and I think all the students, too, were

impatient to get started. So start we did, and it was most

satisfying. They were a lively group for the most part,

especially the ones taking political science. They had obviously

been reading the papers over the summer and hearing discussions

of what the darkening clouds over Europe might lead to. For me,

of course, the situation abroad had special meaning for I knew

that if war came, Canada would be involved as part of the British

Commonwealth of Nations.

I found a small but conveniently placed apartment near

to where many graduate students had their own places and it

proved both compatible and suitable for my needs. The '.Wellesley

library was adequate for the kind of basic reading the students

would be doing and quite well stocked with up to date periodicals

and enough specialized material for the papers I anticipated

my students would be writing. I had most of my own books with

me making the apartment cozy though a bit crowded in places.

There was room for Louise to stay over night when she could

spare the time, and by dint of using the two or three quite

large cupboards as temporary storage space, I could also do a

small amount of entertaining for tea or drinks. Altogether I

was very satisfied with my setting and opportunities which had

to include, of course, as much attention to getting the disser-

tation into shape for ultimate publication as was possible.

11-

By great good fortune, we discovered that a temporary

vacancy had opened up in one of the dormitories for which Louise's

training in Germany as a social worker well fitted her. She was

highly successful in streamlining the basic work of running the

building, got on well with the maids,and had an extraordinary

gift for anticipating problems before they actually appeared

and thereby forestalling them. The Wellesley administration was

delighted with her. Having made her niche in the college, it

seemed not too difficult to secure an increasing number of

teaching responsibilities and By, she became very

much a part of the Wellesley scene.

It certainly made it much easier for us to see a good

deal of each other without the strain for Louise of a long

motor trip from Cambridge or the necessity of making dates

much ahead of time. It also opened possibilities of taking

advantage of concerts outside of Wellesley as well as those

held there for neither of us much enjoyed going by ourselves

and we were only gradually developing the kind of knowledge
about our colleagues tastes to know whether our interests

would coincide with theirs or not. Gradually also, we found

ourselves included in parties and making new contacts.
I had a good vacation at home at Christmastime, 1938,

and was relieved to see for myself that Dad's illness or over

strain seemed not to have left any permanent mark or greatly

changed the character of his habits. He still went to the
Hamilton Club each afternoon for his game of bridge and seemed

to play just as well as ever which said a lot as he was

acknowledged to be one of the best players in Canada. Mother

had obviously been through a lot of strain but her spirit was

highland he had returned to the ever busy round of meetings

at the YWCA and elsewhere, making plans for the YWCA summer

camp for which she had been the real promoters she was also"%l

for the East End branch of the Y which had had such an important

effect in that community. They had taken up again the ever

helpful practice of keeping and mounting clippings for me and

offered once more to do some typing for either Louise or me if

we got into a jam, an offer we only took advantage of when we

were in very particular need.

What we were all rather apprehensive about was Charlie's

growing determination that he should take an active role in the

was effort if it came since, as he put it, "Quebec will drag its

feet because it won't accept that it is "their own." When he

finally enlistedA after Canada had entered the war, it was in

the Signal Corps and at least he never went overseas. Dad had

had, of course, a long and significant role in the local 13th

Regiment of which we were very proud but he was of a much more

martial type. Being a doctor, he would have a self-assigned

role but at least neither he nor Charlie ever went overseas

which saved Mother and me a great deal of anxiety.

Back to Wellesley which had come to feel like home. The

students had much to tell about their Christmas and New Years

experiences but settled down nicely and worked quite hard.

They were a good lot with some outstanding members in each

class with whom I wish I could have kept in touch. The one

15a ..

with whom I did keep in touch and who is still a much treasured friend
was Mary Gardiner Zones whose keen legal mind and concern for
consumer interests and much besides have made our relationship
both stimulating and rewarding these many years. I was amused
to fead in a recent letter her recollections of me at Wellesley
in her freshman history class "lecturing us about Frederick the Great
and his battle and having a marvellous time gesticulating with
your black board pointer the lines of battle and how everyone
moved." MyAspecial recollections of her were sitting on the floor
in our apartment making neat newspaper clippings for my ever
growing collection. She also wrote later of my Northwestern home
and college agendas "Work was your fun and four iife and I guess

now that I think of it, that is also a model I have unconsciously
followedI which gave me a special feeling of satisfaction .

During my Christmas vacation in 1938, the war had been

only an impending danger on the horizon but during my 1939

summer vacation with the family, which had been dedicated to

working on my dissertation, it became all too real. The final

break in diplomatic relations came just before I left for

Wellesley. The Canadian Expeditionary Force had already

sailed from Halifax for Great Britain under the tightest security

possible. Everyone's favorite story, which I took back to campus

with me, was that the Bishop of Nova Scotia had prayed on a

nationwide broadcast "for the safety of our gallant troops on

the water" on the Sunday after they had left but were still at

seal

The "phony war" went on through the fall but we held out

breaths because we knew that sooner or later it would turn into

a raging tornado. I was actually crossing my neighbor's garden

in mid 1940 as I hurried to class when she lent out of the

window to say "They are on their way" that is, that the invasion

of Normandy had begun. Louise's brother, Hajo, who had been

enlisted by the Office of Strategic Services, was at a cocktail

party, he told us later, when a colleague said casually "So

they'll be on their way tomorrow," but he had not caught the

implication. For the overwhelming majority of us, the news

came like a thunder clap and from that moment on we could hardly

tear ourselves away from our radios.

Among those who crossed the Channel ahead of the troops

was young David Ambrose, the second son of Mother's brother

Howard. David was dropped near the coast with radio equipment

so he could keep in touch with what was happening in England

itself and transmit anything of special importance to those who

crossed by ship or barges. He spent a week in his field with

the troops going past him when they landed but he came through

without any injuries, thank goodness.

Some time in 1959, I made what turned out in the end

to have been a serious strategic mistake. A great deal of

discussion was going on in the college about the fact that so

many of the senior members of the history department would be

retiring in or around 1941 which was the date on which my re-

appointment would have its final consideration. Despite the

fact that my PhD was in Political Science, I felt increasingly

at home in history, and particularly in modern and, of course,

contemporary history. Diplomatic history was, of course, what

I was writing about in my book, although from another point of

view I was involved in the politics too in the same issues4there

was nothing theoretical about them. So when Hodder and a few

others suggested I move entirely into the history department

instead of continuing in my hybrid history-political science

role, I was easily convinced. All it seemed to involve was a

shift in the sections I was teaching and that was made easily

enough.

It was not, in fact until 1940, that my move from being

in two departments to concentrating on one had any significance

as far as I could tell. I was not senior enough to attend

important department meetings and, in any case, we got any

information that seemed relevant to our interests from Hodder.

Suddenly, however, there was a great deal of discussions about

the future of the history department. Curtis, who was again

chairman, called me in for a talk in February 1940 and asked

in some detail about what had been the circumstances under

which I had made the decision to go fully into history the

year before. No one had made me any promises when I did so,

of course, but I had never thought it would be important.

Apparently my PhD in political science was worrying some

members of the history department though Radcliffe backed me

up with an emphasis on the breadth of my training and experience

there. So did Hajo, though more surreptitiously. Louise, of

course, had always been in history and Hajo quietly steered

potential applicants from Yale away from the Wellesley scene.

There was one rather odd situation in 1940 involving a

Viennese woman, Frau Pazalt, who had come recently to the

United States and was given a temporary teaching position in

the history department. Hodder was suspicious of her and

although Louise and I tried to keep out of the situation, Louise

did look up some reviews in German of her publications to add

to those that Hodder found. All the reviews seemed half hearted

and some were openly critical so it was not difficult to build

a strong case against what was rumored to be the possibility

of a high salary and a five year contract that the president had

indicated she might be willing to provide, and some faculty

members had been keen to secure. A crucial late finding was

that Pazalt had been a member of a group in Vienna with strong

ties to the Nazis and the danger of her appointment evaporated.

There seemed little doubt, however, that there was very con-

siderable disappointment on the part of some members in the

department at this development and despite our minor role in

the matter, there seemed good reason to assume that it was an

additional objection held against us.

I remember all too vividly that after all the students

had left my classroom one day late in the autumn of 1940, two

members of the department came in and sat themselves in the

small chairs two rows below me as I was still sitting behind

the desk. After a considerable silence, they said very quietly:

"We think you should know that neither of us will vote for

your reappointment in the history department when the question

comes up. We are sure you are a splendid political scientist

and that should be your only teaching field." When I began to

say something about my background and experience in the field of

history, they simply said "We don't want to hear anything about

it. We have made up our minds and that is all there is to it."

And, of course, when the final decision was made in the depart-

ment, their decision was more than sufficient to block my

reappointment even if everyone else had voted for it which I am

confident was not the case though Hodder put up a good battle.

The final word naturally came from the President and I

had a short mater of fact appointment with her although she did

say that she was very sorry I would no longer be with them as I

had made genuine contributions to Wellesley. Louise had more

success for when Miss McAfee started by saying that as a former

administrator, Louise would realize that it was the department

rather than the individual who counted, Louise with her most

effective torrent of words challenged that assumption and

maintained quite rightly that it was the duty of an administrator

to consider the whole situation and the significance of indivi-

duals as well as of the group. In the end, to my great satis-

faction, McAfee approved an additional year for Louise at

Wellesley which made arrangements for both of us much easier.

The department was molified when McIlwain maintained that he

had no one on hand who was as good as Louise, and they took

refuge behind the fact that Louise had a European orientation

to her work which, of course, I could neither claim nor wanted

to do so.

In fact, hard as it was for me to accept the termination

of my appointment, the only time in my life such a thing happened

to me, it was on balance clearly essential for my career. I

was and am a political scientist, and a good one, and it was time

I accepted that specialization openly as I have during the rest

of my career. Obviously word of what was happening to me per-

colated quickly through the academic profession and already in

May, 1941, I received a letter from Bryn Mawr College offering

me the Mary Paul Collins Scholarship which had been assigned to

the Department of Economics and Politics for the year 1941-42.

Although I did not, in fact, accept it though why I am not

quite sure, it did a lot to as age the blow at Wellesley and

made quite clear that it was as a political scientist that I

was known in the academic community.

What was very heartwarming was the series of letters

I received both before I left and afterwards expressing what

was obviously very genuine regret that I was going. A senior

member of the economics department, Miss Elizabeth Donnan,

wrote us both on January 11, 1941, "It isn't only a loss to

the department, it's a loss to all Wellesley, to faculty and

students alike, both those now here and those to come, one

that many of us will never cease to regret. I am ashamed

for the institution for which I have worked for twenty years,

asham-ed that they have two teachers of your qualityhaven't

appreciated it. It is Wellesley that has been measured and

found wanting." Others wrote in anger or regret and I have

kept the letters because they did much to ease the pain of

leaving a place where I had temporarily sunk my roots and cared

for very much.

B.

SMITH COLLEGE, MAJOR FOREIGN POWERS, ENGLAND AND IRELAND

Although the nineteen forties had begun with a disappointment,

as described in the last chapter, they proved thereafter to be full

of enriching experiences both in teaching and in travel. Both also

provided landmarks on my way to becoming a recognized specialist

in my chosen fields of Commonwealth studies, and comparative

European governments. Basic to both and to my opportunities

within them were the academic posts I secured relatively quickly

after leaving Wellesley: Tufts College for a year from Septem-

ber 1, 1942, and from 1944 on Smith College, for, as it turned out,

the next twenty years. Only the invitation in 1964 to become

Melville J. Herskovits Professor African Studies and Director of

the Program of African Studies at Northwestern University led me

to leave my long and rewarding activities at Smith College.

Word of the Tuft, College post came in a letter from its

Vice-President, George S. Miller, dated August 20, 1942, and my

appointment began already on September 1 of that year. The program

was attractive with a course in political theory, open to juniors

and seniors, in the first semester as well as sections in American

government mainly for freshmen and sophomores. The second semester

included a course in international law, to my great pleasure, one

in comparative government, and sections in the government of

American cities. After my solid dose of young women at Wellesley

except for their weekend boyfriends, I enjoyed the boys at Tufts

very much, finding them more argumentative than my Wellesley girls

had been with rare exceptions, although often less well prepared.

Side by side with this teaching, I found myself drafted

again to work with the personnel students at Radcliffe College

in a series of ten to twelve seminars during the winter as I

had during the previous two years. I liked the professionalism

of that group and apparently their director was satisfied with

my performance as she commented that "you compress more into

a short time than anyone we know"!

One of the particular advantages of the time at Tufts

was the opportunity to renew my association with Professor

George Grafton Wilson who had remained connected with the

Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, and had also kept his

office at the Harvard Law School. He wrote immediately on

hearing I had received the post at Tufts and evinced his

continuing concern for both Louise and me by referring to

the complications she had been encountering in her naturali-

zation process which fortunately seemed to be resolving

themselves. He had been, and remained a source of advice and

support throughout both our careers and provided a model of

an ideal academic relationship, never interfering but always

ready with encouragement and support when needed.

Smith college, in turn, proved to be everything that I had

hoped for when I joined its faculty in 1944. The relations

both with other faculty members and with the students were

mature, stimulating and rewarding. I grew very fond of the

campus with its great trees and spaciousness and liked the

town itself which seemed to me neither two large nor too

small. I quickly acquired a comfortable place to live where

I could bring my outside friends as well as those from the

college itself. If there were cliques in the faculty, they

never affected me. On the professional side, my department

was all I could ask for, stimulating, good comradship, and

providing what support I needed without interference. On

balance in light of other experiences I hai had, Smith seemed

to me as close to being ideal as one could ever hope!

My closest colleague at Smith college became Jack Ranney

who had joined the faculty a year before I did. He had

already acquired a substantial reputation for his lectures, I

found, and his seminars were becoming increasingly popular.

We used to meet on campus going to or from our classes, but I

do not remember any particularly important conversations

together although we did find mutual interests. It was obvious,

of course, that he was keenly interested in politics and knew

a great deal about those in Europe.

Jack and I became increasingly involved with each other,

however, over a proposal to prepare a textbook on European

governments for college use. It was made to me by Professor

Benjamin F. Wright of Harvard University on behalf of Harcourt

Brace and Company, an outstanding New York Publishing company.

I can still see Ben Wright, who was to become President of

Smith College in 1949, tilting back in his Harvard office chair

and saying, "There's gold in them thar hills!" which frankly I,

at least, did not believe, although the future was to prove it

accurate. The preparation of such a work was obviously going

to be a mammoth task but Jack was immediately attracted by the

possibilities, probably even more than I was.

Once we had agreed in principle to undertake so monumental

a task as analyzing the government and politics and character-

istic activities of what we agreed should be called The Major

Foreign Powers, questions arose as to which countries we would
select for what we determined should be a detailed examination

of all their relevant aspects, and how we should divide what

would obviously be huge responsibilities. Great Britain and

France offered obvious opportunities for detailed comparisons

with each other of structures and aims and both also offered

contrasts and comparisons with the United States which from

the first we agreed were particularly important for our students

as well as for ourselves.

The Soviet Union offered innumerable comparisons to

Great Britain and to France as well as to the United States

in structure, purpose and policies but we also looked for a

fourth country for our book that appeared to share its objectives

and probably its functioning. For these reasons, we decided on

China. Never again was Major Foreign Powers to attempt what

many considered so rash a venture but there were other reasons

for this change and, interestingly enough, the section on China

led to contacts for me years later with Chinese scholars who

knew and had used it but in what ways 1-: never learned.

The division of labor for the preparation of the book was

settled logically, although not entirely to my liking, in terms

of Jack's and my current teaching assignments. His very popular

courses dealt with the evolution of Britain's and France's

governments, their party structures and elections, parliaments

and executives. Mine dealt with what remained: the national

administration, local government, and law and the courts, none

of which excited me very much. What I thoroughly enjoyed

teaching and writing about were what I called for Britain

"A New Society?" and for France "French Society in Change" as

they dealt with education, social security and nationalization.

Particularly compatible for me were the foreign policy chapters

where I could deal with the Commonwealth in the British one.

The Soviet Union and China were similarly divided to the best

of our knowledge and understanding.

In addition to preparing my chapters for The Major Foreign

Powers, I helped to meet our very considerable expenses by

turning out on the mimeograph machine, with the essential aid

of several students, advance copies of the British section for

a California college. Moreover, I was already publishing

articles on Canadian and Commonwealth foreigh policies as noted

below. Thus the amount of my time and effort going into my

sections of the comparative government book was inevitably

considerably less than that which Jack Ranney was expending on

his. One of his colleagues, Dan Aaron, suggested aptly that

since Jack seemed to be doing more proportionately on the tet

book than I was, the names should be reversed on the title page

and despite a twinge of regret I agreed to its justice.

Jack was in England on sabbatical leave with a well deserved

Guggenheim fellowship when Harcourt Brace announced the astounding

news on January 5, 1949, that "105 colleges within 45 days of

publication" had adopted Major Foreign Powers for their courses

in comparative government. I was confident, however, that he

must have learned of the book's unprecedented success before

his sudden and untimely death in London on January 4, 1950.

He had long suffered from acute diabetes, as I learned later,

and may have failed to take adequate treatment for it, if it

existed at that time, since he apparently always tried to hide

his illness from his widowed Christian Science mother.

Jack was only 34 when he died. As Dean Helen Randall

wrote subsequently, "He moved under a compelling sense of the

shortness of time." His last words to a close friend in

London were, characteristically, "It was fun while it lasted."

Though Jack Ranney had gone, there could be no question

of letting Major Foreign Powers end with one edition. My

partner in the subsequent five editions, all of which did

extremely well, was Professor John Herz, of City University,

New York, who had long been a specialist on West Germany. That

country fitted neatly into the volume in place of China.

What John Herz and I agreed on was that he would assume

responsibility for the whole section on Vest Germany and that I

would be responsible, in turn, for updating the three other

countries: Britain, France and the Soviet Union. Louise Holborn

took on the responsibility for the bibliography which became a

significant part of the volume. Moreover, over the years, Louise

collected material for me on each of the three countries for

which I was responsible so that when I came to undertake the

writing, I had neatly organized new material for each chapter.

I could not have coped otherwise with the major task of updating

three major countries but our partnership stood the test and

made the new editions possible.

In more attractive binding than the first edition had

had, and also with paperback editions for the separate countries,

Carter and Herz continued to dominate the comparative government

market for many years and to reap a rich return for both John

Herzand myself in reputation and in monetary terms. It also

pleased me that the preface and special parts of the British

section continued to include some of Jack Ranney's thoughtful and

beautifully expressed phrases, and I always nourished a secret

hope that he would somehow know that they were there.

Side by side, and often overshadowing my comparative govern-

ment concerns and writing, was my deep interest in Canadian

foreign policy and in the contemporary Commonwealth and my

desire to increase my knowledge and publications in these

specialized fields. My article on "Canada and Sanctions in the

Italo-Ethiopean Campaign" had been printed in the 1940 Annual

Report of the Canadian Historical Association, while I was still

at Wellesley College. Another study of Canadian policies was

"Consider the Record: .Canada and the League of Nations," one

of the Behind The Record Series (Vol. 2, No. 6) published

May 1, 1942, by the Canadian Institute of International Affairs.

In June 1944, my article on "Canada and Foreign Affairs: A

Review of the Recent Literature" had appeared in The Canadian

Historical Review, and was followed in December 1945 in the same

periodical by "Canada and Foreign Affairs," also a review of

recent publications. A broader study had been a Foreign Policy
Report for the New York Foreign Policy Association entitled

"The Dominions Look to the Future," published December 1, 1943.

It noted that I was one of the contributors to William Yandell

Elliott's massive work The Eritish Commonwealth at War which

was published that same year. Finally, in 1947, my own book,

The British Commonwealth and International Security: The Role of

the Dominions, 1919--1939, appeared through the Canadian Institute

of International Affairs and the Ryerson Press.

Although I had tried through these studies to keep in touch

with developments throughout the Commonwealth, I was eager to

visit England again and even more to make my first trip to the

overseas Dominions, especially South Africa, India, Pakistan,

Ceylon, Australia and New Zealand. What I sought, therefore, was

a year long study tour of the Commonwealth's widely scattered

members. Fortunately, Smith College, which had advanced my rank

to that of associate professor, was open to my proposal for a

year's leave for 1948-49 even though it predated by twelve months

when my sabbatical leave would normally have come due. Fortun-

ately I also secured an adequate number of grants, in particular

from the Canadian Institute of International Affairs and the

Social Science Research Council of New York to finance what was

obviously to be a very expensive operation.

I left Canada by ship in July 1948, and my grand tour began

in the United Kingdom with most of the next three months alter-

nating visits to college friends who shared my interests with

carefully focused research visits to London and elsewhere. Of

prime significance were the several days and a rich harvest of

interviews in Ireland before it left the Commonwealth which

will be described in detail below.

Thereafter I visited Malta and Cairo briefly en route

to Nairobi and other parts of East and Central Africa before

making an extended stay in South Africa where I had rich

research and personal opportunities. From there I went to

the\Dominions, Ceylon, Pakistan and India, in all of which I

had extensive interviews to be detailed later. The grand tour

ended with Australia and New Zealand wrapping up what I was to

call "The New British Commonwealth."

A particularly meaningful letter about my Commonwealth

book had come to me in March 1947 from the former Canadian

Prime Minister, 'W. L. Mackenzie King, to whom Mother's and

my close Hamilton friend, Mrs. Hendrie, had sent a copy

of The British Commonwealth and International Security on my

behalf. Mr. King pleased me greatly by saying he had been

"impressed by the careful documentation of the several chapters,

and by the reasoned judgment which seems to me to make the

whole of the book." He also wrote of the "undoubted character

of authority which this volume will have in a field you have

made so especially your own," and also suggested- that it will

"commend itself to all who are concerned with problems of

security in the modern world, and in particular with the part

which the nations of the British Commonwealth have played in

/o

the search for security." To my special pleasure, Mr. King

asked for "a slip bearing my autograph" which he could place

in the front of the book "which I value highly."

Not only did his letter give me the greatest satisfaction

and pleasure but it also led in November 1949 after my return

from my Commonwealth tour to a dinner with him at Laurier

House for my mother and myself during a visit we were making

to Ottawa at that time. Moreover, either afterwards, or more

probably on another evening during that visit, he arranged for

me to have an extended personal conversation with him in his

study. I still have a vivid recollection of sitting next.
-to him nd facing the fire while he showed me a personal

diary and other records of events about which I had written.

Nothing could have touched me more than his warm outgoing

comments at that time about the article I had published on

"The Evolving Commonwealth", in International Journal's

summer issue, which supplemented those he had already made

in his letter about the book. Subsequently Mother wrote to

ask him for an autographed photograph for my study and it

remains one of my most prized possessions as, indeed, are

the memories of that quiet conversation together in his study.

M.y Commonwealth study had begun naturally in England, as

noted above, after a long but thoroughly enjoyable sea voyage

with Louise accompanying me. Somehow, I had not been prepared

for the differences I was to find in England due to the war

and the impact of the bombing and the difficulties of rationing.

My first adjustments, therefore, were to a country which was

basically.very familiar and yet marked as I had hardly envisaged

it would be by the strains through which it had gone, and the

efforts to pull back to what to me would be normal conditions.

Writing home two weeks after my arrival in London I

described England as "grim and gaunt but with its old sense

of humor and steady doggedness underneath. It is strained but

steady. There is a great deal of complaining but a rather

high .proportion of the people I have met prefer the equali-

tarianism of English rationing to either the continental black

market or American inflation. Almost no one is completely

satisfied with anything but almost everyone looks back on the

war record with great pride and on the present efforts as

thoroughly worth while."

Other vivid impressions were that the "older people looked

tired, almost drained of energy" and "as if their feet were

aching" but that the "young people walked well---with their arms

swinging" while the children were "round and rosy, very friendly

and a bit pert." I also noticed that people talked with each

other as if "chatting" had become more part of every day life

than used to be the case. Another feature that struck me was

that women were doing jobs like announcing trains that would

be less likely at home. I also saw "a number of smart girls in

uniform including an M.P." All in all, there were obvious new

features to post war England to which I must become familiar.

The contrast I found in Ireland, or more accurately Eire,

when I flew to Dublin in mid August, 1948, was hardly surprising

in the light of its neutrality throughout the war. It seemed

remote from the activities that had made Britain worn and

battered but at the same time vibrant.

Eire's decision to remain neutral when war broke out in

September 1939 had been no surprise in the light of its recent

history and the speeches of its then Prime Minister Eamonn de

Valera, Born in New York, son of a Spanish father and an Irish

mother, de Valera acquired an early prominence as a leader of

the abortive Irish Easter Rebellion in 1916, and a bitter

opponent of the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921. The Treaty

implicitly acknowledged the political division of the island

between predominantly Protestant Northern Ireland, known as

Ulster and the Catholic rest of the island. By so doing, it

ended a bitter conflict with Britain. It also led to the

recognition of the Irish Free State as a Dominion of the

Eritish Commonwealth of Nations. The conservative elements

of the country, represented by William T. Cosgrave's Fine Gail

(United Ireland Party) which supported the Treaty, helped to

develop the British Commonwealth into the association of states

"equal in status, in no way subordinate one to another," the

classic statement of their relationship.

In 1932, de Valera's party Fianna Fail (Soldiers of Ireland

Party) came into power by securing a majority which called for

a united Ireland. In 1938, a new Constitution, accepted by a

bare majority of votes, established an internal republic called

Eire which was subsequently declared to be in external association

with the British Commonwealth. The meaning of this terminology

was that the name of the King would be used in external relations

but not in internal affairs.

Under the 1938 arrangements, the Irish government also

obtained unconditional control of its bases, which had previously

been used, if needed, by the British Navy. At the same time,

however, de Valera pledged that no enemy would be allowed to

use its territory as a base of attack on Britain. The Battle

of Britain and the difficulty of maintaining supply lines

brought the issue of the Irish ports subsequently to the fore,

and strained relations. So did the subsequent establishment

of American troops in Northern Ireland after the United States

entered the wary Eire's neutrality was firmly supported by its

people, however, and its government maintained the strictest

censorship of any European neutral.

To my great pleasure but considerable surprise, I found

myself with an impressive range of appointments in Dublin soon

after my arrival there. Not only did I see the Mrinister of

Foreign Affairs, Mr. l.icBride, at noon on August 18, 1948, and

found him "very urbane, smooth, sure of himself and pro-Canada,"

but also Prime Minister John A. Costello at 5:30 p.m. on the

same day, whose "incisiveness and qualities of leadership" were

no less apparent.

His Inter-Party government had ended de Valera's

sixteen year long span of office on February 18, 1948. It

linked an extraordinarily diverse group of parties ranging

from Fine Gail, which had supported the 1921 treaty with

Great Britain under which the Irish Free State had become

a Dominion with status similar to that of Canada,"

to the new Republican Party, two Labor parties, and the

national Agricultural Party. It was also supported by a

well known Independent, rMr. Dillon, the Minister of Agriculture

with whom I also 'had an appointment, Jk. wrote later that

he "has a flow of eloquence on all imaginable subjects and a

dynamic belief in the need to build a united 'citadel' against

unbelievers."

While these conversations, and others during my time in

Dublin, considerably broadened my understanding of what the

relatively new government planned to do as far as the Common-

wealth was concerned, I was naturally not provided with a full

understanding of what the Prime 1Minister planned to announce

during his ensuing visit to Canada in September 1948.

a press conference in Ottawa early in that month, he declared

that it was the intention of his government to renounce Eire's

External Relations Act of 1936 and thereby sever his country's

last ties with the British Crown.

What that meant, I speculated in an article for Saturday

Night, dated September 18, 1948. It seemed to me that it might

lead to "two kinds of Commonwealth membership an "inner family"

of Dominions like Canada and Australia, still linked by

recognition' of the King, and others like Pakistan and Eire
1Jnot so formally associated." At that point in my Commonwealth
k'trip, I was in no position to make any categorical statement

on the subject but it seemed of particular significance to me

that I had talked with Prime Minister Costello so shortly

before he made his announcement in Ottawa of what his government

planned to do. Yt was also very fortunate that I had learned

of his comments in Ottava before I would have my discussions

with other important Cooimonwealth figures in South Africa,

India Pakistan and Ceylon, who might well be attracted by

what he planned to doA

CHAPTER THREE

a. Africa, Especially South Africas Love At First Sight

b. White Politics In South Africa, At The End of the 1940s

a .I a

Chapter Three a.

AFRICA. ESPECIALLY SOUTH AFRICAs LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

I left England on October 23, 1948, and reached South Africa

on November 9. In between, I visited Malta, Cairo, Mairobi (Kenya),

Kampala (Uganda), and the Victoria Falls.-' As I wrote at the times

"Each of the visits brought me into new surroundings, different

from each other and largely different from anything I had known

before." Although I did not guess it at the time, I was to come

back over and over again during jhe ensuing years, partly for

pleasure but also, fortunately, also for professional reasons,

both writing and administration, the latterxmost notably during

my ten years as Director of African Studies at Northwestern

University between 1964 and 1974. While my first impressions

were surface ones, I could build on them. I have always been grateful

that I made them so early because they formed a personal base on

which I could build as both Africa and I developed in our own

special ways.

"I loved Malta with its sun-drenched stones and tiny, hand-

cultivated plots of land," I wrote to a close friend at home.

"The Maltese still plow with primitive hand instruments, often

no more than a bent piece of wood, fashioned as were the ploughs

of Biblical days. The roads are lined with stone walls ("the best

collection of stones I've ever seen!" George Bernard Shaw is

reported to have said) and down them come hugh families with their

goats running beside them. Often "mother" stops to milk a goat

to quench the thirst of one of the youngsters. But the quaintness

of such scenes is more than matched by the sense of history

..-."''* '*' .

-2-

everywhere. People speak naturally of the Phoenicians, and of

the time when the Hypogeum, an underground series of chambers,

was built, probably contemporary with Stonehenge. Earliest of

all are the cart ruts that run straight off the cliffs but are

said to mark the roads that once joined Malta to Africa.

Whether this was the case of not, I also saw moments of the

Knights of St. John, "suits of gold mail and magnificent portraits

of early Grand Masters." I ended by saying that one of the nice

things about Malta was that it could be seen "adequately" in a

few days "even if that means scrambling over the roughest tracks,"

as I obviously did.

I was less pleased with Cairo which I found "dirty, grasping and

tense" but I went to "an extraordinarily wide range of places" led

by an official guide: the City of the Dead, El Azhar, the early

Coptic Churches and much besides on which I confessed "I had

no business going to because of the state of anti-foreign feeling!"

But I also added "Fortunately I didn't know of the ban until after

I had been to them!" But "what I liked best" I wrote, "was

driving through the country to the old villages ... watching

the peasants planting their seeds under water in their flooded

fields, and the women walking to and fro with huge bundles on

their heads, or riding donkeys by the canals so like the picture

one has of the Virgin Mary that I was carried back centuries and

forgot the qualor around me.

At least I entered into the scene "as I turned away from the

Spinx and my camel plodded slowly through the sand towards the

Pyramids." That I actually did ride the camel was documented to

my skeptical or concerned family by my detailed description in a

-3-

letter homes "By the way the camel was easy. When it bends its

legs, it gets quite low so all I had to do was sit down on the

pad over the hump. It was when it got up that it was tricky as

it raises first one set of legs almost sending you off on your

nose and then suddenly the front ones so you nearly fall off

backwards! Then they move off in a swaying gait that was slightly

alarming. However I insisted it should not go too fast. Its

name was Queen Mary!

In Uganda, I visited Makerere College, which provided the

only post-secondary education in East Africa at that time. I

noted how very few girls were enrolled there and was told that

there was a prejudice against educating them even though there

was considerable realization that they were "the key to improving

conditions on the reserves and in the towns." One very special

opportunity while there was to drive to the source of the White
Nile at one corner of Lake Victoria, the spot for which Livingstone,

I was told, searched fruitlessly all his life. I was particularly

fortunate to be there when I was for a hydroelectric scheme was

about to be developed near the start of that river which winds

its way through the Sudan and Egypt (joined at Khartoum by the

Blue Nile from Ethiopia so I was told) to make the marvelous

fertility of the Nile Basin. It was described to me as a miracle

of green in the midst of otherwise barren desert. When the power

scheme was completed, they said, it would provide Uganda and

possibly Kenya with a badly needed source of power, and also

make possible more efficient control of the Nile waters.

-4-

My last stop there was at the Victoria Falls where the

waters of the Zambezi drop into a gorge along a ledge a mile

and a quarter long. It is so narrow that as I stood just opposite

the cataract of the middle falls, I could hardly see the water at

first for the mist that was enveloping me. Suddenly to come

on the Falls out of a dense tropical forest gave me the feeling

I had discovered them myself and was completely alone.

Nairobi, I described, as somewhat of "a miniature South

Africa" for I was shocked at the insolence of whites to local

Africans and Indians. I also saw it accurately as "all life and

problems!" Happily, I was met in Nairobi by two close friends,

Cora Hochstein, a former Radcliffe classmate based there in the

Foreign Service, and Ed Mulcahy, formerly at Tufts and also in

the Foreign Service but at Mombasa, with whom I had been in touch

earlier about my trip. Ed immediately set off by car for Nairobi

once he had settled arrangements at his post. He arrived full of an

amusing story about the eclipse that had happened during his

journey and how the friend with whom he had spent the night en

route had used it to threaten his African workers of a repetition

unless they worked harder. I wondered how often that trick had

been played!

Ed, Cora and I drove through the coffee and sisal plantations

north of Nairobi next morning to Thika to visit the East African

School for the Blind operated for the government by the Salvation

Army. We found that their handful of teachers had accomplished

almost unbelievable results in training the students in typing,

weaving, and furniture making. Most amazing to me was that they

had learned to touch type in English although three years before

they could neither read nor write.

As I had learned from Cora the day before, there were 100,000

Indians in Kenya, 4 million Africans, 61iy a small percentage of

them in town, and 27,000 Europeans. Nairobi itself, I felt, was

a dull and rather ugly town not at all the way Cora and I had

imagined it. The flowers and flowering trees were the most lovely

sights to be found. The Africans wore European clothes for the

most part but looked much better in the long white robes with broad

belt and turbans which I had seen so continuously in Egypt. The

Indians mostly wore European clothes though women occasionally had
gorgeousr- $ris. I was particularly intrigued by the way the babie:

were carried on their backs by the African women.

Cora and I had hired a car before Ed arrived and driven out

to where the Nyong Hills dominated the horison and when we reached

the Westwood Hotel, they were before us with a..broad valley between.

It was so like the description in Out of Africa by Isek Dinesen

that I remarked on it to the proprLtor of the hotel and to our
amazement we learned that part of it was the original home in which

Baroness von Blixen had lived. Isek Dinesen's descriptions of the

place had been so vivid that it seemed almost like coming home.

Later I was with people who had known her and had nothing but good

to say of her but felt she had a sad:-life; husband was a bit of a

neer-do-well, the place had been too high for growing coffee and so

she had lost it. One thought she was in a mental institution in

Denmark, another that she had died. At least people had lost touch

with her. But she has left a wonderful memorial in her book.

next day
We lunched/at the Blue Post Inn at Thika from where we could

see the famous Thika Falls, a lovely sight. Returning by a very

rough road to Kiambu to meet the District Commissioner with whom

Ed had made an appointment, we made a tour of the Kiambu reserve

with him, learning to our amazement that there were only ten

Europeans trying to develop facilities for the 200,000 Africans

in that particular district.

Years later when I returned to Kenya with my Smith College

J students in 1957, as I describe in a chapter of a small recent

publication, Continuity and Change in Southern Africa, (Crossroads

Press, 1986) the atmosphere was tense and divisions apparent

following MauMau terrorism. Fortunately, I was also able to

describe in the same piece my presence at Kenya independence in

1963. I cannot forebear to add that during all these and subse- I

\ quent visits to Kenya, the game reserves and close encounters with
deer, elephants and above all lions are among my most viviA memories.

Flying sout4,I wrote "What a huge and barren continent this is!

Yesterday we flew hundreds of miles over Tanganyika, hardly seeing signs

of life. We would cross no more than two or three roads in an hour

(flying at 190 miles an hour) and perhaps one railway in three or four

hours. Surprisingly to me, much of that part of Central Africa is well

wooded with deciduous trees and is rather attractive also to the tsets

fly, it appears! Then there are the lakes, Victoria and Tanganyika, which

are beautifully situated and huge; we flew over Victoria nearly an hour

and lost sight of the further shore most of the time. One cannot help
thinking that ultimately much of this will be irrigated and cleared

but that it will be a mammoth undertaking. If only the nations could get

together on a project like this it would tax their energies and imagins-

tions just as much to far better purpose than all the interna-ional
_________!,T-, -471-11f% f.li' iot r rhn nnw-"

Continuing'.~b6ut'.the tri:: I wrote "It was exciting to cross

into South Africa today and see the bare and rather beautiful red crags

of the northern Transvaal. So much of what we have traversed has been

flat, at least since leaving Uganda. Altogether, I made up my mind

very quickly that I like the Union and want to learn all I can about it.

There were beautiful farms out on the veldt, lovely plowed fields

near the crags; Pretoria in the distance as we came towards Jo-burg;

then the white mounds of waste from the gold mines looking for all the

world like flattened pyramids of the new Pharoahs."

I also decided that the-long drive through the countryside

after landing at Vaaldam was "not unlike parts of Ontario, the less

developed parts, with long flat fields with cattle grazing and horse

drawn carts on the mud roads." but I added hastily "you could never

mistake it for Canada though for the roads were lined with black faces

... most of them grinning broadly and some waving to us." I also

noted that most were better dressed than in East Africa and the houses

in much better shape.

And so I arrived in South Africa on November 9, 1948,

and somewhat exhausted from the journey and affected by the unfamiliar

height, determined to bury myself in my most.comfortable bed in the

hotel.in the heart of Johannesburg. But it was not to be! At 8.30 a.m.

I found myself being interviewed by The Star, which I soon learned was
Johannesburg's best paper. Mrs. Kraft, my interviewer, was a

charming person, South African born, and the sister of the helpful

companion with whom I had done much of my sightseeing in Kampala.

Her husband, who is Belgian,t;Ws the Director of the Institute of

International Affairs and I quickly found out that I was due to

address a private session of the Institute the following week,

November 17, on "Will Western Union Strengthen or Weaken the

Commonwealth?" Obviously no time is wasted in this up and coming

country to which I had just come. I was also to speak on the

same subject at their branches in Cape Town, Port Elizabeth,

and Durban. The University Women want me to do some speaking

as well, I gather,:sb J -9_Q in touch with its President, Mrs.

Kirkwood, who was to become a great friend and her husband too.

While I was attempting to think my way through these plans,

I found myself living in a veritable "bower of flowers" coming,

no doubt from Mrs. Kraft. There were four vases full of mauve

petunias with flame colored daisies, yellow and pink snapdragons,

larkspur, and a giant rose with little bells. To add to the

unfamiliar surroundings, my breakfast, served in the room on

request, consisted to my considerable concern of porridge, meat

cakes in tomato sauce, two eggs and bacon, toast, marmalade and

coffee .- As I attempted gamely to do it justice, I read a

two column account of myself in The Star of November 11, 1948,

headed by a very solemn photograph as befitted "a Canadian

educationist and writer of books and articles on political science,"

who plans to "bring up to date the subject dealt with in her "The

British Commonwealth and International Security." The article

also mentioned the "Major Foreign Powers," and said the publishers

expected to sell 15,000 copies by June! It also maintained that I

was not "the kind of visitor who makes ex cathedra' pronouncements

about our country after a brief visit." So with that gentle

warning, I was welcomed to the land of eternal sunshine and apartheid.

-q-

Fortunately very soon afterwards came my meeting with

Phyllis Gardner, always known thereafter as Phyl, which changed

both my life and hers. The first thing she did was to insist

that I should move and stay with them and I agreed. My initial

reaction to her was that "she is a delightful, cheery person."

I naturally had no premonition that our lives were to become

inextricably intertwined first to a degree in South Africa itself

but subsequently for many good years in the United States. When I

look up from my Orange City study window where I am typing at

this moment to the big grey house barely hidden behind the trees,

a wh4 myriad of images flood my mind of how our lives intersected

over those fortunate years.

I moved to the Gardners on Sunday after a most lovely day with

the Kirkwoods. Mrs. K. picked me up at .the hotel about 10, packed

my luggage into the back of her car and took me on a tour of the

lovely garden suburbs of Johannesburg. We went to the country

club for tea (an 11 o'clock institution) and I could hardly tear

myself away from the lovely gardens, waving willows and brilliant

flowers and trees (the mauve jacarandas9 ''o in full bloom). After

the drive, we lunched at their home and then off to the mine

dance at the State Mines about 14 miles outside Johannesburg.

For three hours, we watched an assortment of traditional dances

and impromptu stunts by groups of A& l,"obviously organized

by themselves and executed with verve and joy. It was quite

breathtaking and interesting to a degree. Thousands of other

S mine workers, stood about and the play of emotion on

their very expressive faces was quite an experience. Then they

took me to the Gardners and so began my very, very happy visit there.

Both were.artists easy, full of interest and so warmly human.

I think I have never made a close friend so quickly.

Conveniently sited in a Johannesburg suburb, the Gardner

establishment, whose size and varied aspects require such a

designation, fronted on a quiet street which "my" room looked

out on. It was spacious like all the rooms in the house,

especially the long living room with its ever present fire.

Phyl and Jim's bedroom was at one end and the kitchen at the other

end. Matty, the cook, and other helpers lived outside or in the

African township but came in early and often left late. There

were at least two dogs, one very large, a watch dogwho took his

responsibilities very seriously whether on the property or

escorting me on evening walks near home. The Gardners- were

less apprehensive cd. break-ins than most South African city

dwellers but took no chances, it was clear. Behind the house

the sloping garden with its profusion of flowers led to the key

building: Jimmy's huge studio for his sculpture with a place on

the side for Phyl's painting of which the results, happily,

were in every room as well. The vegetable garden was to the

left side, and in the front there were always flowering bushes.

No wonder I settled down so quickly and comfortably, adopted

the dogs and stray cats, and pounded away on my little typewriter

reporting the extraordinarily useful interviews I was able to have.

The Gardners were not political in my sense of its meaning but

through their many and varied friends I also gathered perspectives

that were different from those of officials and politicians and

this helped to broaden my understanding of an almost unique

society and country which both fascinated and repelled me at the

same time. It still does.

41-

Jim, as I called him, was Director of the Art School and

always left early to take up his responsibilities there which he

did with great and sometimes almost overpowering seriousness.

Phyl was in charge of the senior painting and had the delightful

knack of being encouraging at the same moment as being perceptive

and transmitting it. Even I did a little dabbling with a brush

though the typewriter has always remained my chief medium. But

I loved going down town with one or the other of them and seeing

quite different aspects of Johannesburg through their reactions,

sometimes explosive from Jimmy, always perceptive from Phyl with

her very special knack of seeing a story in every situation.

Comfortable and happy as I was at the Gardners, the urge to

explore Southern Africa and the need to make the most productive

contacts possible led me soon to follow up the excellent contacts

with which I was being provided at the South African Institute of

International Affairs, and through the governmentI had a Brittish

introduction to Eric Louw, the Minister of External Affairs, and

he put me in touch with the Minister of Railways, Mr. Sauer, who

seemed the key to all kinds of transport in the Union. To my

amusement but satisfaction, after we had worked out my travel

arrangements, I overheard his secretary say over the telephone

that I was a V.I.P. which apparently smoothed out whatever difficul-

ties there were.

This first of several trips I was to make during my three

months in Southern Africa opened my eyes to the rich variety of

scenery and activities throughout that area. I began appropriately

with four days in Pretoria, the capital, with, visits with Forsyth,
Permanent Secretary of External Affairs, Malan's secretary, du Plessis,
and Ealan himself who was very cordial, and extremely frank and thus
revealing. I also saw Hofmeyr with whom I had a good general talk.
Inthe afternoon, I was taken to the Premier Diamond.mine where the

Cullinan diamond, the world's largest, was discovered in 1903. The
highlight of my visit, however, was a talk with General Smuts who was
both cordial and .surprisingly open.with information and views, which
I greatly appreciated, --
I had expected my next visit, which was to Salisbury,

Southern Rhodesia, to be very -formal and-with'distirntly British

overtones but tp my surprise when I reached the hotel I found a

letter from the Governor's secretary saying that "His Excellency" would

be very pleased if I would stay at Government House once they

returned after the weekend. That gave me a chance to explore on

Sunday and I visited the Park where an excellent African band

was playing Gilbert and Sullivan one of those extraordinary

contrasts which I found everywhere and where a miniature Victoria

Falls and Zambesi River gave me a good chance to study the unusual

contours of the area there. The river winds back and forth at

right angles for nearly a dozen times, the falls themselves and

subsequent zigzags being due to a fault in the basalt. There

were peacocks with marvelous tails which they paraded before our

view and lovely flowering trees jacarandas (mauve) and flamboyants

(crimson-orange) which almost took my breath away.
Monday, I spent part of the morning with Sir Alan Welsh,

the speaker of the House of Assembly and an hour and a half in

the afternoon with Sir Godfrey Huggins, the Prime Minister, who

was a most delightful person with a great sense of humanity which

was a relief after the Nationalists in Pretoria. Huggins is a

surgeon which explains a good deal; unfortunately extremely deaf

as well. I watched the House in action for a while and had tea

-A.;-

on the lawn of the House in the recess and then rushed back to

the hotel to move to Government House!

The Kennedy arranged the most extraordinarily full program
wea
and in additiongbecame fast friends. It was a most interesting

experience living with His Excellency, dressing for dinner and

jumping to my feet to drink the toast to the King. I had a

lady's maid who washed and pressed my clothes every dayll and a

lovely room with private bath the room was on a long verandah

flanking the garden in the Duke of York wing! which I had all to

myself!!.

The Kennedys invited 'Sir Ernest Guest & Lady Guest to

dine the first night so I could talk defense with him; and with

a Father Victor the second night (when they had to be out) who

turned out to know Uncle John since he is in the order of the

Brothers of the Resurrection. At lunch one day there was a Mrs.

Maasdorp who knew- all about native conditions and toUk me on a

tour of native schools and areas on my last morning in Salisbury.

Another day, Mr. Minors,the Secretary of the Bank of England, *

lunched beside me and was most interesting about Rhodesian

economic conditions. I went also to the Central African Council

which coordinates some activities of N. and S. Rhodesia and

Myasaland and learned a lot.
._._(

**^.^.i

-lo

All this I owed to Sir Eric Machtig, Permanent Secretary of

the Commonwealth Relations Office who is a friend of the Kennedys and

wired them of my visit here. To my amusement, they hadn't the

foggiest notion who I was when I arrived but greeted me with the

utmost effusiveness, running out of the study and across the

flower beds to shake my hand and say how glad they were to see me!

Actually it was quite wonderful to have this luxury and attention

for this is one of those places where there are no ordinary means

of transportation and the taxis start at 3/6! Moreover, it was

a lovely, low white house, Dutch style with rounded decorations

at the end of every pointed roof. I was in a somewhat separated

part but with the same style of verandahs flanking the rooms on

the inner side of the garden and overlooking a most charming garden.

My visit to Cape Town was no less rewarding. I left

Johannesburg on December 9 after a brief visit with the Gardners on

my return from Salisbury and Phyl came out to the airport with me

to watch the planes come in and out. My plane was a Skymaster

which is bigger than any except the Flying Boat that I had been

on before.

We lifted heavily off the ground, soared along quite low

for a while, then gradually took our height of about 6-8000.

The visibility was good and I loved seeing the high veld from

the air, miles and miles of smooth, rolling country, grey green

and brown, stretching apparently forever, with scarcely a tree to

break the expanse. We flew over the Vaal at first (which is to the

Transvaal what the Nile is to Egypt) and then the Orange River,

saw Kimberley briefly though not the "big Hole" (where they

excavated for diamonds; actually the hole I saw at the Premier

Mines outside Pretoria is larger but not so deep) then on into

the Great Karroo, desert land of extraordinary beauty Particularly

at the latter end in the Eastern Cape district, the beauty was

almost staggering: great grey mountains on the horison, constantly

changing in form, and below us the red sands, washed into fantastic

shapes by sudden downfalls. Suddenly they sloped away in great

concentric circles as the land dipped down to the fertile valleys

of the Cape, startlingly green and brown, with gigantic hills

towering over them on either side. We passed over some famous

Passes (in South Africa the passes go down, not up, because the

land is so old and worn away) and in almost no time were in sight

of the Cape Peninsula, Table Mountain and the Lions Head. The

pilot obligingly turned the plane around so all of us had a good

glimpse at the famous outlines and then we went down to a perfect

landing, just three and a half hours after leaving Palmietfontein,

the Johannesburg airport for land planes.

-16,
SI had barely settled myself in Ay:-Cape:Town. hotel.and 'begun,2

unpack, when the telephone rang, and a pleasant voice said "This is

Sir Herbert Stanley: do you remember me from the meeting you addressed

in Johannesburg." Of course, I did for he had moved one of the nicest

votes of thanks that I had ever heard." So then he said "I've just

heard you are here and the hotel is no place for someone like you to

stay." I want you to move out and stay with us as long as you can."

The upshot was, of course, that I left the hotel as soon at oild
to stay with them at Papenboom, Newlands Avenue, Newlands,which is out

Bear the University and right by the sea. Since I' had an appointment

with the President of the University in the morning and luncheon with

the Hon Mr. Justice de Villiers to be followed by a drive, it was next

day before I could move.sEven then, I had already arranged a number

of appointments: Sunday with Peter Charles and his wife, Peter being

the brother of Wendy who was at Somerville with me; Monday with a

friend of Mrs. Kirkwood of the Jo'brg University Club to whose annual

meeting I had spoken on Monday before I left; and Wednesday with

Professor Rollo, an interesting rather explosive person, for lunch and

a drive, while in the evening I was speaking at the local branch of

the South African Institute of International Affairs. In between, I

attended the Graduation ceremony of the University of Cape Town with

Jack Brock, Truda's brother, since she couldn't go.

It was, however, sheer joy to be with the Stanleys

-17-

in Newlands. For one thing, it is about eight miles outside of the

town and the drive is along a lovely bluff, the Vaal Drive, with

great views over the city and Table Bay on one side and up the

mountains of the Peninsula on the other. The Rhodes Memorial,

the University and the Hospital are all on the slopes and in

between magnificent pine forests reaching up to the great peaks.

The Stanley's garden stretches to the pine woods and foot of

Devil's Peak, one of the more spectacular of a magnificent range.

Driving home at night from the city was particularly lovely for

the lights twinkled all over the city and the long flat stretches

of land at the foot of the Bay so that it looked like fairyland.

The Stanleys were not only extraordinarily kind and hospitable

but also interesting. She is a Cloete, descendant of an original

Cape Dutch family and one afternoon we went to her old home,

Alphen, where her nephew, a Bairnfather (no relation to the

cartoonist!) is now host, his wife, a nice girl and granddaughter

of Sir Thomas Cullinan of diamond fame. The house and buildings

enclosed three sides of a great square (lovely white Dutch archi-

tecture) with great elms shading them and huge pots of hydrangeas

between them. In the center of the square was a blazing mass of

flowers! We went into the old house, and I loved its spacious

rooms, old family portraits (to which the Cullinan heiress is now

adding some old masters!) and an air of distinction and graciousness.

Then we had tea in the little cottage next door and later visited

the wine cellars and saw where the wine presses are all part

-1s-

of the square of buildings. Alphen wine is famous, and it was

most interesting to see the huge casks with maturing wine, and

to look out from the door onto the vineyards which stretch for

miles on all sides of the estate. All this was in the Valley of

Constantia.

Other memorable experiences at the Cape were drives by Hoek

Bay and Chapmans Peak where the road has been cut into the side

of the hill and one looks straight down into the green-blue water

of the Atlantic, rolling in below, and up to the peaks soaring

over our heads. Then-we cut across to Simonstown, the naval base

for the British. The high point, howevertwas the ascent to Table

Mountain where I walked over the smooth grey boulders to see the

magnificent views, to one side down the whole length of the Cape 7i-

Peninsula, and to the other over Cape Town, Table Bay, and the Cape Flat-

By an extraordinary coincidence, I was taken by a Professor Rollo who

turned out to be the son of old Canon Rollo who used to teach me

religious knowledge at Trinity.

Thereafter, I boarded a luxury bus (made in Canada, I was

proud to learn), for a quick early December trip around the coast

whose spectacular scenery kept me in a constant state of excitement.

We stopped in Mossel Bay on December 13, and Port Elizabeth the

following day, so I had a quick visit to each of them. I had only

planned to have lunch in Grahamstown but found out to my delight

that a long time friend, Truda Brock, was the head there of a

training-college for the Anglican sisterhood so I stayed with her

for a week learning much from my conversations with her and others

at the college, and interspercing them with my explorations of

the town and its surroundings. I then again boarded my luxury bus

through to Maritzburg where I was met by the Pope Ellis' on Christmas <

Eve and taken to stay with them "for as long as you like; to be with us."

-19-

Christmas with the Pope-Ellis family was a delight. Leslie

and Cormac, my host and hostess, were most cordial and easy. Grand-

mother was "quite amazing," though she kept asking the same questions

over and over again. The two girls with their husbands and two children

each were friendly and gay. Happily everyone was left to do just what

each wanted in this rambling old house with trees and jacarandas on

every side.

In the late afternoon of Christmas,there was s special

ceremony at which the Africans who work on the property got their :'

presents. Cormac made a little speech in Zulu and the men grouped in a

semi-circle kept raising their hands high above their heads with their

palms out in approval and chanting "Baas" in their deep voices. One of

the two headmen made a little speech of thanks, and then the presents

were doled out. The eldest grandson aged about four ran to and fro

bringing the shirts from a big box on the porch; the men came from the

right and were shooed over to the left after they got their present.

Some of them bowed quite low and one did a little jog dance, partly

because he was tight and partly to cover up on odd walk from on old

leg injury. Then another speech by -P.E. wishing them good luck with

their crops, and a great roar of approval and "chant by the Zulus of

all his virtues." Almost all of them were dressed in khaki clothes

but one man wore the traditional mouchie (loincloth) made of beads and

animal tails and nothing else except a shirt slipped lightly over but

the rest were more Europeanized. I would have enjoyed seeing more of

their bead work worn by them but to my delight received five necklaces

as my own Christmas presents, all of which had been made in the tradi-

tional way andworn.

-20-

Before I left Johannesburg for Cape Town, I had heard from

patriCla Anderson about the possibility of spending some-time

with her and her husband on their big farm at Colchester, Cedar-

ville, East Griqualand. Ruth Dean ofJOt. Holypke had put us in touch
I
andkwas much taken by the idea. So after a few more days with the

Pope Ellis', I took to the road again since there still seemed

time before my eratic Inchanga turned up in Durban. It proved a

marvellous experience and we all became bosum friends, a bond that

still lasts to today.

I was reluctant to return to Durban but feared quite rightly

that if I did not do so, something might go wrong with my sailinro

It became a most tiresome affair with one announcement after

another, and each cancelled at almost the last moment. Finally, i:

I wrote home on January 18, 1999,to say'iwe would sail the next

day. i. We were due to stop at Lourence Marques, Dar-es-salaam,

Mombasa, and then cut across to Ceylon. After that, I planned tc

go to India: Madras, Bombay, Karachi, Lahore, New Delhi, and

Calcutta, all by air, much of which I did eventually. But before

thatfurther complications developed with the trip.

I spent the night-i:of the 18th with Mrs. Dick, the

Secretary of the South African Association of University,Womeni.::h..

husband and small boy of nine. At dinner, was Dr. Palmer who

had done much to build up the non-REropean side of Durban Univers'.::

and afterwards met with a number of other university teachers

including a man who taught in the big Indian High School and had
some excellent suggestions for me. Their house had a splendid

view of the harbor and I could see the Inchanggfrom my room,

glistening white in the lights as befitted a passenger-cargo boat.

-21-

We drove down to the harbor the next day, and I cleared my bage
at a small table set in the middle of a huge shed which was largely

filled with bags of tea. My cabin was rather nice, not a bit too small,

and on the hurricane deck so only the Captain's bridge was above. It had

a bed with good springs, and a ledge for my books. The window was a good

size with either glass or slats as the weather made appropriate. There

was hot and cold running water, a big mirror above the basin and a chest

with three drawers.

So far, so good, but I was dismayed to see on the deck many

bales marked for Beira which we had been promised we would not go to for

it is the steamiest port on the 6ast African coast. Discussion ran to and

fro and the possibility of a long stay there became evident. Lourenco

Marques was hot enough so when we got there I went anxiously to the

Captain and fortunately found also the representative of the shipping

company. He acknowledged it was unlikely we would get to Mombasa before:
11
February/and maybe later, and not to Colombo before February 20! So I

asked what would they think if I got off in Beira and went back to Johannes

burg and flew to Mombasa to meet the ship, and the Captain said I wish

I could do it!" But how was I to do it? The train was already booked but

there was a plane leaving at seven next morning.
The agent found a little Portuguese boy named Jimmie who took

me in rapid succession to the South African consul to get another visa, tc

the bank that was closed but could tell Jimmie the value of my American

travellers checks so we went back to Rennie's office where my air ticket

was waiting, they cashed my checks and gave me the rest in Soith African

money, Then I went to the Portuguese immigration authorities for an exit

permit, and so back to the ship where I made all the other passengers very

envious over avoiding those two ports! "JUmi=ei plua~.wIlfl turned up at the
shortly
ship j .:;, before six next morning ust in time to stop the deckhands from

taking down the gangplank to move to a new billet. And so "home" again!

-22-

The Gardners adjusted easily to my unexpected return and
as I wrote home on January 27, 1949,"I'm having the most glorious time,

resting, reading, possessing my soul in peace, and loving the out of

doors." I was also putting the finishing pieces toi'e reorganization

of my notes, grouping them under three main heading; politics and race

relations; land and people; and "Which way SouthuAjria01949nfi.j-n., "

The latter piece I had already sent off to Saturday Night early in
later
January and I was delighted to learn/that stig- yediTe it iwas..i n t

issue of February 1, 1o49, under the heading of South African Stress

Is Intensified by the Nationalists' Policies.

My new set of plans involved leaving Johannesburg on

February 9, and flying right through to Nairobi on a plane that left
als g n nte morning
at 2 a.m.yut got there at 11.40. From there, I took the train, happily

accompanied once more by Cora Hochstein, to get tb-Mombasa where as I

wrote Ed Mulcahy, I would sleep on the Inchanga if it had arrived -

hich it hadn't) or otherwise. in any place he could arrange, either

the hotel or his cottage on the beach. Of course, he had everything in

hand when we arrived and plans for a splendid trip to Zanzibar, which
be
turned out toAone of mv most noteworthy experiences . nedi.ael,

Tfrd wasLso s fro -homei'hfcas" always -t~ugh'i xi up to dat'-there.
S The most splendid news awaiting me, of course, was of Charlie's engageme
on March 3
and marriage/to Catherine Counsell. How I would have loved to be there

but I sent my congratulations and love over the airwaves with confident

they must arrive.
To return to Mombasa. which, incidently, is on an island,

while the hotel was on the mainland to the north. Each time we go into

town, we go over a rickety 6Woden bridge which spans the end of the

old harbor, where the Arabian dhows lie at thf ,de of the old wharf.

They sail down from the Persian Gulf -several times a year, bringing rng~

and spices etc. There were many in the harbor when we were there, looking

for all the world like the ships Columbus took across the Atlantic except

that the sides were probably lower. They have sharp prows, much riggin-,

and when they are under sail one, two, three, or even five sails.-i.th;y

make a lovely picture on the blue water. The sails are always white,

however, not red or blue as in France.

Wednesday afternoon, we went to old Fort Jesus (now a military

prison) and sow the doors studded with spikes to keep the elephants fror

battering them in! Then down old Vasco da Gama street with its round:. i';

pointed:.Portuguese tower at the end, past the bazaars where Indians sell

gorgeous saris, and the Hindu Crematorium(where they refuse to cremate

Europeans, a fitting color bar) and the African location which is very

well built and makes a.- striking contrast to the crowded, dirty African

houses on its outskirts.

When we got down to the Old Port, we saw a hugh black car dri"

up and who should get out but the Governor, Sir Philip Mitchell. I nearly;

went over to him but suddenly realized he was receiving a deputation of

Arab sheiks and right afterwards he went down the long causeways to the

water, embarked in a long boatt rowed by about a dozen Arabs and undertoc

a tour of the hundred or more dhows in the harbor before going on board'

one of them for traditional drinks, presents and sprinkling of rose water

Before we follGtWhe4oi tbwn Arabs on two similar low boats danced, most

dangerously, in the narrow quarters, swinging back and forward to hauntiL

chants, not unlike those of the Cossacks.

The day before, Cora and I had done a tour of the schools

Ed had arranged for us to have dinner the night before with the Chief

Education Officer who arranged for his deputy to take as around. We went

to the Arab Girls School, the Indian Girls School (mostly Hindu) and

-24-

the Goan High School. The Goans come from Portuguese India but most

of them have been born here and athothoroughly.~Ahglicdzed. They are

said to be the most satisfactory of clerks!

The most interesting of them was the Arab:Girls-School.

According to the Koran, every man may have four wives and the children

of these wives are considered Arab if the father is so ranked. He

may also have certain other wives for convenience but their children

are considered African if the wife is Africani One consequence is

that there is every shade of color from pale brown to jet black in

the Arab School. Another feature is the veils: the youngest wear none;

the middle aged group eight to eleven or twelve wear bright colored

veils over their heads; and the older girls who have reached maturity

wear black veils. We asked the senior class (doing the equivalent

of nine year olds said the English headmistress) to sing for us and

they did it beautifully, improvising a welcome for us by name to the

music of some traditionalcchant. We were told that the Arabs: did not

have much use for education for girls who mature early and are often

married at thirteen and "quite ready for it" said the headmistress.

We thought they had beautiful faces and lovely brown liquid eyes, and

wished them well.

The high point of my time with Ed and Cora wa ou trip to,

Zanzibar, We took off early Sunday morning by a Rapide carrying only one other

passenger besides the three of us. We had a glorious view of Mombasa harbor,

both the Old Harbor with its Arab dhows and the new Kilindini Harbor with many

ships lying at anchor but no Inchanga! The we flew along the coast of Kenya

until we crossed into Tanganyika and soon began to head out to sea to avoid the

clouds. The sea was fascinating: crisscrossed like an elephant hide, sometimes

grey, sometimes a brilliant blue with coral, and in between streaked with green
from sand bars.

-25-

We flew past Tembatu on our way to Zanaibar and I learned that the Afrikans
Ar2- '14!.Zt -*' --.reS
some Arab mixture) who live there keep to themselves and do not let people from
the mainland come on shore without a great deal of prior arrangements. They

administer their own laws and justice and apparently with great effect, and since

no one there or on the island of Zanzibar pays a tax, except the Europeans and

a very few Indians, there is no reason for government officials to disturn them.

The Resident told us that he had talked about their great need for water on one

of his infrequent visits and thought they might come to him about it but in the

meantime was prepared to wait.
Another, this time tragic sight as we flew down the island which was

larger than we had expected was the signs of the tragic blight which is attacking

the clove trees which have long provided Zanzibar's chief export. Apparently the

"sudden death," as they call it is really endemic or latent and has been for a lon-

time but on Zanzibar has only recently been very destructive. It could be a tragc'

for Zanzibar produces magnificent cloves. They are sold mainly to the East: 530 t;:

the Dutch East Indies before the war to be shaved into their tobacco, and 25% to

India to be used as spices. Canada and the U.S. apparently buy their from

Madagascar which grows iess good quality but no one explained why. In any case, we

decided the palm was the most romantic of trees and I for one as I saw them

silhouetted against the full moon while we were there felt in the midst of a

" romantic, magic scene far away from tiresome reality."

We had rashly gone to Zamzibar without settled reservations but our

luck held as the priests at the Mission persuaded Mrs. Alford, the wife of the

Financial Secretay to take us in and we soon became fast friends. The Mission itself.

was eternally hospitable and provided splendid meals while, as I wrote, "Life here

is just one round of drinks after another."
Monday we lunched at the Residency with Sir Vincent Glenday and his wif-

and learned quite a lot about the island. As I wrote later "He was quite amusing

about the Sultan. At first he, insisted the Sultan was really the ruler; that

Zanzibar was "a Protected State" rather than a protectorate and that he was in no
sense a Governor but the Resident "merely giving advice." But as our talk continued