FRIDAY, AUGUST 9: To London and meet Brenda and Jenny and take the train to Canterbury, where Burgon Bickersteth29 is waiting for us, and at once to the Chaucer and lunch with him. He is very pre-1914, says “menoo” (menu) and snaps his fingers at waiters. Then to the cathedral, and from 2:30 till 5 he keeps up a fascinating, learned and dramatic lecture on history and art and shows us what I presume are the highlights—noble glass, fine tombs, the library, the Chapter House, site of Becket’s shrine, and the noble Romanesque crypt, and the St. Nicholas chapel which he and his brother decorated as a memorial to their parents. See also the Dark Entry and Meister Omers, his former home and now part of the school. Then tea with him at his flat, which overlooks the cathedral. We rest till dinner (but not JBB, who at seventy-six is indefatigable) and rejoin him for the meal and for most of the evening. He talks of his work as prison visitor, and talks of cracksmen who won’t touch a job under £10,000, of Billy Hill the king of the underworld, of murderers, etc. Tells of a Toronto marriage in which two homosexuals were “married” with ring and nuptial sermon by a homosexual priest. Tells of the fate of those who “scream” on another criminal. Fascinating. Tells me he has altered his will and his letters now come to Massey College. We leave about 11, and look at the great cathedral in the moonlight before resigning ourselves to the austerities of the Chaucer. A great day at the heart of Anglican Christendom, with a wonderfully knowledgeable and devoted guide.
Burgon, like many old men, tells surprising details in conversation. Telling us how one of his prison friends stole his repeating watch: “I went into the w.c. to relieve myself; of course I’ve had the prostate operation and can relieve myself instantaneously; so I wasn’t more than thirty seconds and when I came out he was hurrying back down the hall.” Interesting, but odd in his charming Edwardian speech before Brenda and Jenny. But one of his charms is an assumption that everyone is as well-bred as himself and that among well-bred people anything is permissible for conversation. I heartily agree.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 16: We fly at 12:30 to Prestwick, then on and arrive in Toronto 10:30 English time, or 4:30 Canadian. The flight the usual dull business: I read Brideshead Revisited. No trouble with Customs, but no sign of Miranda and Rosamond! They are at last discovered in the parking lot, having waited a long time, wondering if they had missed us! So home to great talks and a good meal, and cleanliness and comfort, and Jenny’s first sight of the new house. And how good, and familiar and home-like it looks! Thus ends our holiday and it has achieved, for me, all that I had hoped. I am rested and refreshed; I have dredged up some good ideas for the College and—more important—have achieved a concept of the College and an attitude toward it which are coherent and firm without being inflexible. Could not have done this by brooding on the spot. My time in Oxford was invaluable, personally and in the inquiries I was able to make about work at St. Antony’s and Nuffield. So it has been a huge success, and I hope that from now on we shall be able to travel regularly. And that, so far as this journey is concerned, is that.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 18: At once we are engulfed in College considerations: Ron Thom’s parents were in a dreadful accident, his mother killed, his father badly hurt, and grievously distraught. Vincent Massey is on the warpath about the building, which is still a long way from finished. In the house there is no sign of stair carpet and spare beds, and idiots have fastened the TV aerial to the chimney, very prominently, just as we did not want it. But furniture is in and the Library shows progress. Saturday morning I wade through the accumulation of correspondence; in the afternoon Tanya Moiseiwitsch comes at 2:30 and we have a good chance to discuss the chapel seriously. Sunday, at 11, VM, Hart, Sedgwick, Friesen, Tanya, and I meet and discuss the chapel and decide to defer decision on the phoenix until all else is done. VM is pleased with the altar furnishings we turned up in London.30 He tried the bell, and was as pleased as a schoolboy: it gives forth a clear, respectable, but undistinguished note. On Wednesday the Archbishop of Canterbury31 is coming to view, and he will formally ring it for its first official or acknowledged time, but I mistrust unrehearsed effects and wanted VM to test it. We also have our Visitors’ Book, a handsome piece of work by Liselotte Stern, and although it is not supposed to be ours till October 4, the archbishop will sign it. Would we miss the one hundredth Archbishop of Canterbury, and lead off with Professor Ezekiel Gump of Dogpatch U? Not bloody likely!
MONDAY, AUGUST 19: Colin Friesen shows me the piece in Maclean’s (August 24 edition). Its tone is nasty and some of the things it says are downright lies—such as that seven men run the College and five of them are Masseys. He tells me also he was asked to a cocktail party where they tried to pump him, and he learned that a girl in the corner, to whom he was not introduced until he insisted, was a Maclean’s writer. We agreed that to say nothing was best; when we show what we can do, much of this sort of criticism will be disarmed.
In the afternoon, Tanya Moiseiwitsch, Vincent Massey, Ron, Lorimer, Sedgwick, Howard, and I meet in the chapel and quickly decide what is wanted. Why quickly? Because Tanya has prepared an excellent water-colour sketch showing what she suggests, and VM bought it with enthusiasm. Ron could learn from this: they see, they do not hear. Then to the Round Room and Hart tries to persuade us that the Master’s chair should be six feet tall in the back and upholstered in red velvet! Why? To give an “accent” of colour against the white wall! No thought that the poor brute who sat in it might look rather ridiculous. I argued against it and won. Then to the Senior Fellows’ Dining Room—a long haver. Then the fountains, which look like fire hydrants and gush in an ugly, blubbering fashion. VM wants the heads and pipes submerged, and a thinner jet. All this takes from 3:15 to 6:30, and I am almost dropping with fatigue. But they return at 8:30 and we play Lights-in-the-Quad, and Unwrap-the-Founders’-Cup (which is a beauty), then choose the colour for the lampshades in the Hall. Then comes the lectern, and the ill-fated Ron has forgotten his plan: so he goes for it, while we wait. VM and Hart veto the canopy: without it the thing looks like a Baptist pulpit, but Hart, who wanted six feet of red velvet in the Round Room for an “accent,” thinks the canopy (which is light and pretty) is too ornate. They have their way, of course, and VM says that if it proves that the canopy is necessary it will be added later. Says jocularly, “The Master will keep after us till we do.” But I say, “If you decide against it you will never hear it mentioned again by me”—I am too proud to tease for canopies. But I think they are wrong and so does Ron. Then we adjourn to the Lodgings and sit in the drawing-room and chat and show them the house. Hart’s wife, Melodie, has joined us. It went well but VM does not like anyone to talk but himself, and in a large group—there were nine of us—this means some silences. If a by-conversation begins, he stops short and glares until the offenders shut up. A busy day and much done. I regret the canopy, but one cannot win all battles, and I have had my way in much.
TUESDAY, AUGUST 20: Spying Ernest Sirluck in the quad, I hail him in. We talk for an hour about the relation of the College and the Graduate School, and I think we understand one another and can work together. I am encouraged. Lochhead has excellent ideas about the Library, bibliographical exhibitions all through term, and pictures in the Common Room on loan. Then talk to Colin Friesen about keys, and maintenance. Felt that the work of the College became more real today.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 21: Visit from the Archbishop of Canterbury. The Ramseys arrive with Vincent Massey at 4:15 and have tea with us. We offer an English tea—thin bread and butter, light cake, and fruit cake. They are charming and easy, the archbishop very quiet, which surprised me for his pictures suggest a thunderer. Then we tour the College and to my delight he spends most time in the lower library, which should impress VM, as other scholarly visitors will do the same. When we have done the tour, the archbishop rings the bell at five o’clock, and away they go. Our first grandee dealt with pretty well but not so well as we shall learn to do.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 22: Ron Thom comes to the College in the afternoon an
d we go to Hall and discuss the lectern; he is going to try again. Meeting in my study of Vincent Massey, Miss Leavings, Friesen, and myself at 5:30 to discuss the opening parties; we make good progress. But VM inveighs constantly against Ron, and I fear for Ron. He is dreadfully incompetent, dilatory and ill-organized, but he is an artist of capacity and should not be bullyragged. He is at fault in many things and I am as vexed with him as anyone, but he is not to blame for everything. If what I hear is true, Hart is very slow about approving and returning plans—but of course VM will hear no word against Hart. Now VM has made Friesen his agent to push the building through to completion, which pleases me, and I hope it will save time and hurry things up.
This morning I tried to get some sense out of Gow about our licence, but who ever got satisfaction from a lawyer? He assures me our application is in and complete, but the secretary of the licensing board says November is the earliest we can hope for a hearing. Discouraging. Leslie Frost and Eric Phillips, the great “fixers,” have fixed nothing for us. One of the problems here is keeping one’s courage and optimism in repair. And keeping the wood in mind as one stumbles from tree to tree.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 23: Call from Colonel Phillips, very affable: says he had been on the phone to “our friend” and had been given an assurance we should have our licence in October and could have a banquet licence to tide us over from September 20. This is splendid, but I wish I knew who “our friend” was: Premier Robarts? Leslie Frost? Judge Robb? Called Gow and asked him to go ahead. He is somewhat hesitant and I understand why: these fixes are delicate matters and he may put his foot in it. But I feel better about it. Junior Fellows come in to bring their traps; they look a decent lot on the whole and I am less worried about budget than before. Painful lumbago all day and much incapacitated.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 25: The weekend makes work—real work, and what I call work—possible. I have written 300 words for an architectural magazine and 1,200 words for the Times Literary Supplement about the College. Vincent Massey called Saturday morning to say that Eaton’s had asked that a sign be shown at the openings, saying they had done the furnishing! He dealt tactfully with this. Gave him Friesen’s quite good news about progress here, but he does not want to hear anything that might lessen his anger against Ron. I persuaded him to omit the usual approval from Ottawa (i.e., Hart) in the case of the lectern.
MONDAY, AUGUST 26: Eric Rump, a Junior Fellow in English, has moved into his room—our first man in residence; wish he were not quite so early. Lionel Massey calls this evening: sounds weary, but better, and his enthusiasm for the College is unfailing. Ron comes in to make a sketch for the lectern, and discusses Tanya’s fee with me—a matter she brought up herself as she had no notion what it should be; he suggests $2,500, which I think steep, but who can say what an artist’s work is worth?
TUESDAY, AUGUST 27: A day of varied crisis, beginning with the discovery this morning that we have no hot water; this proves to be because the superintendent’s department has failed to inform us that they shut down on the 23rd for their annual overhaul and inspection and will not resume operation till September 3. They also failed to speak of this when they examined our plans and saw we had no auxiliary heating system. So after much discussion they admit themselves at fault and will assume most or all of the cost of whatever electrical installation we need. But this is not achieved without much brouhaha. Meanwhile a storm brews about a mechanic’s lien against the College by a steel company amounting to about $1,000, which is unpaid; but the Foundation are withholding $200,000 from Eastern Construction, to be paid when all deficiencies are made good. Eastern want their money; the Foundation will not meet them or their lawyers to discuss the matter, this being Hart’s stand—“It would be too embarrassing.” Consequence, a possible row in which Eastern might take all men off the job for thirty-seven days, with resulting liens of all sorts from subcontractors, and the Foundation in court. The law and reason of all this evade my understanding, but Bill Broughall and Ron are very exercised about it, and of course it makes completion of the building difficult, and creates ill-will where none need be. What suspicious people the Masseys are and how high-stomached! I shall get hold of Lionel tomorrow and see if I can make peace, and Friesen is trying to untangle the rights and wrongs of the matter.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28: My fiftieth birthday; Brenda gives me a beautiful loving-cup, Irish, by Matthew West, 1780, Dublin, which makes a fine figure on my study mantel. I feel a little unwell, for it is thundery weather and my sinus bothers me; I hope for a quiet day. Books come from Blackwell’s and I get them on the shelves, and in the afternoon settle down and read Auld Licht Idylls for an hour to my great content. But at 5 Lionel Massey comes (looking much better than when last I saw him) and gives me the other side of the fuss about the contractor; then Friesen comes in and substantially supports him. In the middle of this, Vincent Massey calls, fidgeting about invitations for the various parties. At 6:30 Ron Thom arrives and puts his case to Lionel; nobody’s stories quite jibe. But by 7:10 they have all gone, and McCracken at Brenda’s bidding attempts to ring the bell fifty times. But something goes wrong and after forty-seven strokes it will ring no more, and we go out for dinner at the Lord Simcoe, and to a film, Sparrows Can’t Sing.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 29: Make some progress planning my graduate course on nineteenth-century theatre, and collect an ominous mass of manuscripts which must be read for the Epstein Award.32 Vincent Massey calls and fusses about parties; what a man for detail! Bill Broughall calls, still very cross with the Masseys; but I begin to know Bill for an emotional Irish blatherer; a good fellow but says far more than he means and loves crisis, so I soothe, but do not heed him. Ernest Sirluck comes to lunch and is an excellent guest. Afterward we discuss the College vis-à-vis the Graduate School and he advises (1) seeking some contact with the Graduate Students’ Union; (2) circularizing the heads of graduate departments; (3) inviting graduate clubs to use our Upper Library; (4) putting up visiting lecturers gratis; (5) seeking the good will of the Canadian Association of Graduate Deans; (6) giving an affair for the Canadian Association for Graduate Studies on 21 and 22 October; (7) having continuous bibliographical activity and exhibitions; (8) trying to have some presentations of recondite drama or music; (9) trying to establish an annual gala – son et lumière, poetry, or whatever; (10) seeing that lots of non-College men come in for dinner; (11) seeking the good will of the Varsity;33 (12) advising Junior Fellows not to regard themselves as an elite. All good, and some of it in train already. Says also, if we truly establish our Library as a Canadiana centre, he will try to persuade Claude Bissell and Robert Blackburn, the chief librarian of the university, to make over all Canadian material to us. We part on excellent terms.
Lionel Massey comes in to say all is well with the contractors. Colin Friesen comes to say the work on deficiencies is going ahead. Then George and Norah Harris come to see the College, and Norah is pleased that part of her $500 donation should go on a first edition of The History of Emily Montague.34 They are surprised and delighted with the College. Books from Rota in London come, including the three Kelmscott35 volumes I am giving to the Library for an opening gift; they look even better here than in London. Douglas Lochhead also tells me he has bought Carl Dair’s hand press for $200, a great addition. So things progress and the reality of the College begins to assert itself.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 30: Lionel Massey is in crisis again for Bill Swinton has had some form of collapse near Edmonton, where he was on a dinosaur hunt. Claude Bissell appears unexpectedly about 3:30: I show him what has been done and he is impressed and repeats what Sirluck said yesterday about transferring the Canadiana from the central library to ours. Coincidence, or have they been talking? Prepared a draft of a statute defining Visitor and Master: Brenda says it is like writing one’s obit to lay the plans for retirement before one begins. But I must keep the Senior Fellows busy and interested, and statutes are impressive. I used Nuffield and St. Antony’s as models, but changed and I think impr
oved some of their wording.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 31: With Brenda to St. Lawrence Market for a change of atmosphere. A feast of autumn colour and bought a lot of asters, which I love. The cries very good—“Fresh, fresh, fresh from the sea! Alive, alive, alive!”—as he holds up a small octopus, chilled to inertia. And “You can’t live on love; you gotta have meat! Here! here! here!”
Have completed my draft statutes and written Vincent Massey about the October 4 ceremony transferring the College from the Masseys to the Master and Fellows. Talked to the porter, who has a good ceremonial sense and thinks we could seat 160 in the Hall and have people standing.
This evening heard records of La Bohème as preparation for my lecture on September 17;36 am also reading Murger’s book,37 which is a far better work of art than Puccini. Disturbed that my study will be noisy; footsteps and talk in the Common Room very plainly heard.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, LABOUR DAY: As we mess about with kettles and cans of water heated on the stove, I am annoyed to find in the minutes of our Foundation meeting of September 16, 1961, that a note was sent to the architect about Item 48, an auxiliary water heating plant. I suppose he forgot it, as he has forgotten so much else. Vincent Massey and Hart are right—a brilliant designer but a damned poor architect.