WILSON1

FAITHFUL FAITHLESS FAMOUS
Sketching a Friendship of an Unlikely Combination

by
John S. Wilson

Delivered to The Chicago Literary Club
February 24, 1997

In spite of the fact that Dame Laurentia Machlachlan was confined behind "Double Steel Grilles" in a monastery, and that George Bernard Shaw was so famous and celebrated as to be intimidating, and that Sydney Carlyle Cockerell lead such a busy (if not frantic) life, these three managed a long friendship which lasted from the day they met until they died. It was a very grown-up friendship, each responsive to the others interests and serious work and always learning from each expanding their horizons into their last years. It was not often that they could meet. The friendship was held together by the glue of the delightful letters written to each other. When Hugh Whitemore wrote his play adapted from their letters to each other, he called his play Best of Friends, a completely appropriate title.

Margaret Machlachlan, the youngest of seven children, was born in 1866. One of the children had died at two and one-half years leaving three sons and three daughters in that order. She was born in Coatbridge, less than ten miles east of Glasgow, of a Catholic family with devoted parents. Because of poor health, Margaret's schooling, until her 15th year, was somewhat intermittent and undisciplined. Fortunately her home had a well stocked library and the young Margaret liked to read. She read whatever she pleased and was not limited to the usual children's books or games. She "browsed at will in a spacious closet of good old English reading," free from any of the usual appropriate training for young ladies. In later years, as Dame Laurentia, she commented on her education when her father had lamented about the education of his daughters being "compulsorily interrupted during more than half the year through having to go to school:"

I approve h ighly of the bringing up of the girls and am very much inclined to agree t hat school interrupts such an education - so much depends on the home - but I think such training is better than they could find at any school. I am always glad that I had very little "schooling," for I was neverregularly at school for any length of time till I came here at sixteen. Ofcourse I am still continuing my education, and if people would only do that all their lives they would not want to cram their heads in early years.

James, an older brother by ten years, was studying for the priesthood. Due to delicate health he was forced to interrupt his training and spend his winters at home from 1887 to 1891. This enabled him to supervise the studies of baby sister of whom, like all her siblings, he was very fond. This was the brother who discovered and gently nurtured his sister's ideals.

During this period Margaret enjoyed a rapid improvement in her health. To such an extent that her parents decided she should go away to the same school that an older sister had attended; the Abbey School at Stanbrook. This was not at all what Margaret had in mind and she arrived on a September evening in tears and refusing all comfort. This unhappiness lasted about three months. The "excellent schooling" continued for the next two years.

One of the "richest experiences of her whole life" happened when she traveled with two officials of the school and stayed for several weeks with the nuns of Sainte-Cecile at the twin Benedictine monasteries at Solesmes near Chartes Cathedral in France. The party from Stanbrook arrived on Ascension Day. Walking into the nun's church Margaret heard for the first time, chanted by a double choir of monks and nuns, the solemn Responsary of the feast. She had never heard anything like this and was overwhelmed by the beauty of it. This may have been the initial inspiration to be "the pioneer of plainsong study in England."

At the end of two years Margaret returned home for six months in order to decide how serious was the decision to devote her life to God. During this period she entered "upon a season of balls, bathing parties and pastimes of every kind." It is not clear whether it was her idea or her parents idea. The parents and all but one her siblings were not supportive of her decision to become a nun. Margaret, being very sincere and having thought a lot about her decision, may have decided that this test of her conviction was necessary. Like all her subsequent projects, she threw herself into the partying phase and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. She could not, however, at the end of this period, avoid the question, "Is this where I belong?' And, in all honesty, the answer was "No."

She returned to her studies at Stanbrook in February of 1844. On September 5 of that same year at the close of Vespers in the afternoon, Margaret Machlachlan 18 years old, "clad in rich bridal attire knelt on the altar steps in the sanctuary of the church at Stanbrook before the Right Reverend William Clifford, Bishop of Clifton, and the following dialogue took place:

"What do you ask?"
"The mercy of god and the grace of the holy habit."
"Do you ask it with your whole heart?"
"Yes, my Lord, I do."
"May God grant your perseverance, my daughter."

The Bishop then proceeded to shear off her long fair hair. A few minutes later divested of silks and ornaments and habited in a plain wide sleeved tunic of rough serge, she once more knelt before him to be formally clothed with a girdle, scapular and white veil symbolizing her reception into the thirteen centuries-old Order of St. Benedict. The great enclosure door swung open in answer to the novice's importunate knocking, and presently closed slowly again behind her shutting out the world and its vanities forever.

Not only did Margaret become an enclosed nun, she also changed her name to Dame Laurentia. Saint Laurence the martyr was her patron saint and the name was chosen for this novice since there was "a great devotion to the saint at Stanbrook and they wanted a Laurentia."

During the next 23 years Dame Laurentia became the "leading plainsong authority in English-speaking countries." Clerical and lay people from far away as well as nearby would come to Stanbrook to study the theory and practice of the Chant that she had developed and applied. Her command of the subject prompted Sydney Cockerell's observation that she seemed "to know everything. Not only her own special studies, but about all that was taking place in the world outside."

On May 30, 1908, Sydney Carlisle Cockerell (C.) Was informed that he had been selected as the new Director of the Fitzwilliam Museum (FM) at Cambridge University. This was the first permanent job for the 41 years old man who did not possess even a bachelor's degree! He occupied this position until his retirement 29 years later in 1937. Less than a year after his appointment in 1909, an article appeared in the Daily Mail that "The undergraduate has discovered the FM and he owes his discovery to the new director..." The reporter was familiar with the situation at the FM and was curious to see what effect one person could have in such a short time. C.'s knowledge, enthusiasm, attractive personality and an intense focus on the task to make the collection "a living and growing thing" was convincing evidence. He ended his report with "the FM is being talked about in Cambridge and being visited because something is happening there."

Thirty five years later in 1936 Bernard Berenson testified to the enduring quality of C.'s directorship when he wrote, "C. has transformed it (FM) from a dismal miscellany it used to be into one of the finest museum buildings existing , with lighting and arrangement not to speak of contents every bit as good as the famous one at Rotterdam." How did C. land this position? Why would the museum directors bypass a Cambridge man and select someone whose formal education never got further than St. Paul's School; which he left at the end of Christmas Term in 1884 at the age of 17? How did he acquire the skills and attention to detail that permitted him to transform the FM from, to use his own words, "a pigsty" into a museum the like Berenson would so loftily praise?

Sydney Carlisle Cockerell was born on July 16, 1867. He was the second son of six siblings with three brothers and two sisters. For the first ten years of his life he lived near enough to the Crystal Palace in Sydenham where he was often taken and remembered as "a splendid place for children." At the tender age of five his parents engaged a Miss Sarah Mitchell to give him and his older brother, Theo, natural history lessons. Both brothers "owed much to her stimulating teaching." The older brother eventually became a professional naturalist "of some distinction." C.'s "boyhood passion for collecting shells and fossils taught him, not merely how great was the pleasure of being a collector but, also the value of close observation and the systematic keeping of records." This boyhood passion would eventually provide him with an introduction to "John Ruskin - the most important event in his early life." The propensity for collecting and determining what he collected was very useful training. the difference in many of the things he collected was often very slight.

In 1877, when he was ten years old, C.'s father died leaving a widow with six children to raise on a ten years annual allowance of 500 pounds. As part of an economic plan the family moved to Margate which is due east of London and as far as one can go and not be in the North Sea.

A family's hardship may often be a member's opportunity. Margate offered "endless possibilities" for a natural history student. On holidays he "eagerly collected shells on the beach and fossils near the fort." At other times he visited his maternal grandfather at Chislehurst, whose caves were an inexhaustible source of excitement, or his father's family at the Banks, Mountfield, Sussex-"a very good place for butterflies." By the age of 14 he was exchanging serious correspondence with Dr. Arthur Rowe, a leading authority on chalk fossils, who acknowledged the competency of C.'s collections and his systematic habits.

In May of 1884 C. won a scholarship to St. Paul's and became a commuter student travelling each day by train from Chislehurst. That summer he won the Smee Prize at St. Paul's with an erudite thesis on "The British Representatives of the Genus Limnae" which was illustrated by a case of shells he had collected.

At the end of the Christmas term in 1884 C. left St. Paul's, exchanging his school books for a copy of Ruskin's Lectures on Art, and joined the family coal merchants firm of George Cockerell & Company as a clerk. While unhappy in his work he applied himself to the job and did his work well and acquired a knowledge of business-like habits. According to his own words he had learned "to be orderly and methodical, and to answer every letter by return post; and [he] learned that if two jobs have to be done, the duller one must be done first."

He made the most of his leisure time by attending lectures, theatres, visiting all kinds of art exhibitions, exploring the city churches and French cathedrals on brief holidays. By repeatedly curtailing his lunchtime, he came to know every monument in Westminster Abbey and every picture in the National Gallery by heart. His reading included Shakespeare, Keats, Browning and Carlyle and he "filled the spare corners of his diary with extracts from their works."

Clearly, the most important thing that occurred to him at this time was his "incomparable good fortune (or good management) in making the acquaintance and soon winning the friendship of three of the most outstanding men and woman of the day - Octavia Hill, John Ruskin and William Morris." Two of these people would change "the whole course of his life."

In response to frustrations at his inability to do anything about the "social inequities" and defects of the social structure he became, in the spring of 1887, Secretary to the Red Cross Hall, a project of Miss Octavia Hill designed to "bring light to darkest Southwark..." Born in 1833, Miss Hill made her first housing reform experiment in 1864. John Ruskin purchased "and placed at her disposal three slumhouses" including the "slummiest of tenants. Sheer business ability and greatness of heart" turned them "without monetary loss into decent dwellings, and their pig like occupants into decent folk." C. ended his association with Red Cross Hall in 1891. His exposure to Miss Hill's philanthropic activities made a deep impression on him, particularly as he became familiar with people less fortunate than himself.

C. first became interested in Ruskin when the "enlightened schoolmaster at St. Paul's, Dr. King," read aloud a striking passage from Modern Painters. "The magic of the words took hold of me," C. later wrote "and gave me a thirst for more." Fortunately the cashier at the head office of his employer in Cornhill was a Ruskinian who lent C. several volumes of Fors Clavigera. He was entranced and wholly approved both the artistic and political teaching to the extent that he became a convert to Ruskinian Socialism and "convinced with the dishonesty of usury."

He established the first actual contact with his God by presenting to Ruskin via the postal services a gift of shells from his personally gathered conchology collection. He was rewarded by a "polite acknowledgement from the Master..." which triggered an exchange of letters from the early months of 1885 through 1886 and into 1887. Bear in mind that C. was only 18 years old while Ruskin was 66, old enough to be the young man's grandfather. Early in 1887 Ruskin granted an interview for perhaps an hour or more at "half past three on Easter Eve." The meeting was an instant success and the "hour or more" was extended into the following afternoon! Indeed, so successful was the encounter that Ruskin invited C. and his sister Olive to spend their summer holiday with him at Brantwood. This was the beginning of a mutual friendship lasting until Ruskin's death in 1900.

C. had met the third most influential person, William Morris, late in 1885 when Morris and a colleague dined with C.'s mother before a meeting in Chiswick. C. became be degrees an intimate friend and ardent disciple of William Morris. In March of 1890 C. was elected to the Committee of the Society for the protection of Ancient Buildings. Membership to this society permitted close and regular contact with William Morris.

At the end of May, 1892, C. finally left the family firm. He did not have another position lined up but spent the next seven weeks visiting most of the cathedrals of northern France.

In October of that year, after a number of visits and work on various projects, C. was offered the project of cataloguing the Morris library at Kelmscott House in Hammersmith. Though not a permanent solution to his employment problem, it was a perfect job for one with a passion for orderliness and properly identifying everything that needed identification. He thoroughly enjoyed detailing and tabulating the 1,809 woodcut illustrations in the Nurenberg Chronicle. It took three whole weeks and involved frequent visits to the British Museum to verify details.

In 1894 C. was officially appointed by Morris to be his private secretary. His activities were mainly focussed on the Kelmscott Press and continued until Morris died in October of 1896. As one of the executors and trustees of the Morris estate C. devoted his usual energy and diligence to the task of "winding up the press." In the following 18 months this included the supervision of the publishing of several books already in the stocks.

During the ten or eleven years following the death of William Morris until his appointment to the FM in 1908 C. was engaged by numerous wealthy and influential persons who needed someone with a talent for organizing and cataloguing their various collections. These positions did not answer the need for steady employment but did keep him occupied in the work he liked best. By 1907 he also managed, with very limited means, to gather together the nucleus of a collection of manuscripts that would eventually become famous and "was particularly rich in works by named scribes."

Marriage in 1907 and family prospects intensified the need for a steady job. The directorship of the FM became vacant when Dr. M.R. James resigned after 30 years. Ignoring well intentioned advice from friends that the new director would probably be a Cambridge man, C. threw his hat into the ring of candidates. One reason for his optimism was that the meagre salary of 300 pounds would reduce the number of competitors. A family relation, Sir Douglas Powell, President of the Royal College of Physicians, testified to his character and trustworthiness, business capacity and exactness in his work. His many friends in the world of art and scholarship testified that "no better man for the job could be found in all England." He got the job.

The third member of this trio, George Bernard Shaw, needs no introduction to this group. Only last December our member, Elmer Gertz, wrote about Shaw's centennial. There are many biographies in the libraries and bookstores on this famous and fascinating person. A celebrity when living he continues a celebrity to this day. His works are familiar to us. In studying his relationship with C. and D.L. what stands out is a sensitivity that many of his published works seem to hide under a somewhat misanthropic mantle.

Stories abound illustrating the prickly side of his personality. One, which may be apocryphal, tells of Shaw being asked if he had enjoyed himself at Lady So and So's dinner the previous evening. "I had to, " Shaw replied, "There was no one else to enjoy."

Then there is the response to an offer of an honorary Doctor of Law Degree by the head of the department of Romance Languages at the University of Edinburgh in 1926;

What have I done to deserve this? Nothing could induce me to take part in such a farce. If the university cannot take its degrees seriously I can. To pick out the one academic department which my work has never touched, and offer me a degree in that is an insult to me and to law, an undignified caper which makes light of learning and its institutes. No doubt the same caper has been cut so often that nobody now supposes that an Edinburgh honorary degree means anything; but if this is so, then how dare the University offer it to me? However, it serves me right. I have played the clown in so many harlequinades that it is perhaps unfair for me to suddenly strike a serious attitude; but the University ought to know better.

I am not snubbing the University. I am rebuking it as it ought to rebuke your frivolous committee for making a tomfoolery of its graduations.

Yours on a very high horse indeed, G.B.S.

Nine years later Harvard made a similar offer which was declined in a letter to the proposer, Dr. John B. Sears:

I cannot pretend that it would be fair for me to accept university degrees when every public reference of mine to our educational system and especially to the influence of the universities on it, is fiercely hostile. If Harvard would celebrate its 300th anniversary by burning itself to the ground and sowing its site with salt, the ceremony would give me the liveliest satisfaction as an example to all the other famous old corruptors of our youth, including Yale, Oxford, Cambridge, The Sorbonne, etc., etc., etc.

Another side of Shaw was revealed to me when researching his play, Saint Joan. On realizing that Joan of Arc's canonization occurred in 1920, I wondered if this recent saintly status was Shaw's inspiration for writing the play? It may have been a contributing factor. Shaw had expressed an intention in 1913 of doing a "Joan" play someday, some seven years before her canonization. What is more important to this essay is that the play provided the vehicle for the meeting of Shaw, the Famous, and Dame Laurentia, the Faithful.

Shaw had first met our Faithless member, Sydney Cockerell, in 1889 at a Fabian Society meeting. Sometime after that meeting Shaw and C. went on a group tour to Italy. From this experience had grown a mutual respect for each other and an enduring friendship until Shaw's death in 1950 at the age of 94. This digression from Shaw's play, Saint Joan, is needed because it is important to understand that the C. and Shaw friendship was well established at the time of Shaw's meeting with D.L. in 1924.

Returning to Saint Joan, a papal decree in 1909 announced to all the world the beatification of Joan of Arc. This may have caught Shaw's attention. Something did so that by 1913 he would write to a friend that some day he would do a "Joan Play."

The first meeting of D.L. and C. took place on January 5, 1907, one year before C.'s FM appointment. At the time C. was acting as the "hired Man" of Dyson Perrins (of Lea and Perrins Worcestershire Sauce) "examining and cataloguing" his "valuable collection of mediaeval manuscripts" in the Perrins library at Malvern. On this particular day C. and Perrins were visiting the Stanbrook monastery because the Oscott Psalter, a rare example of 13th century manuscript, had been loaned to the monastery and the two men wanted to see it. They failed in their mission because the Psalter had been returned to Oscot College the previous day. This information was provided to them by Dame Cecilia Heywood, the abbess, who was accompanied by D.L., director of the choir at that time. Under the Stanbrook rules all personal visits with people from the outside world were with a "double steel grille" separating the visitors from the members of the monastery. This permitted vocal communication and a very limited view by either group.

In the course of the conversation C., while struck by the beauty of D.L.'s voice, was even more impressed by her extensive liturgical knowledge and her impressive reputation in liturgical ritual and plainsong. At the same time D.L. immediately became aware of C.'s expertise in manuscripts. The "double grille" was no impediment to conversation and discussion and seemed to simplify human relationships to the extent that "they quickly found a position of mutual scholarly assistance." From that moment was begun a friendship of mutual benediction and recompense which continued until the death of D.L. in 1953. In an early exchange of letters a bargain was struck. C. wrote, "Any book I have is yours to borrow...I trust you implicitly not to put it into the hands of anyone who does not know how to turn over the leaves or that the paint and gilding must not be touched..." D.L. in turn offered "any little help I can give you...I shall take due advantage of your kind offer regarding your books."

For the first 17 years of this friendship neither was aware that each was keeping the other's letters. The correspondence was considerable; eventually amounting to more than 750 letters. In 1924 they agreed "that the survivor should inherit both sides of the correspondence with perfect freedom to keep or destroy the chronicle of so many outward events in their respective lives."

In C.'s first letter to D.L. after their meeting, he expressed curiosity about her scholarship and how she could be so informed on her subject in view of her physical confinement. She addressed the scholarship question by writing:

What am I to say about the sources you are pleased to call "my scholarship!" St. Benedict's daughters have a traditional love of study...In our Community there is a strong liturgical tradition, which is natural, considering the important part the Choir plays in our daily life. the little knowledge I possess has been gained in the course of my "religious life," as we call it. From the beginnings of the movement for restoring the original Plainsong we have been interested and as we use the mediaeval version daily in choir, we have, of course, studied the matter pretty thoroughly..."

.

C. was also not shy about explaining where he stood on religion. I believe he did this out respect for D.L. and did not want her to have any illusions about his position. In another letter he wrote:

I am a man without any set creed - too much in sympathy with all great religions to adhere exclusively to one, too much aware of the great mysteries to accept any solution of them. I have been to Assisi...for love of St. Francis and of the things he loved - and have looked at Damascus with more reverence for the sake of St. Paul and his 13th chapter of First Corinthians. But I should look with similar feelings on places associated with Buddha and Confucius - and having seen a little of Mohammedans and knew the late Grand Mufti of Egypt, who was one of the wisest, gentlest and most venerable of men, I am opposed to their being converted into Christians or into anything else but more enlightened Mohammedans. I tell you all this that you may realize what manner of infidel you are dealing with.

Nothing daunted, D.L. responded:

It is very nice of you to tell me your religious views so frankly. You wont mind my saying that I think a man without a set creed is very much to be pitied. While acknowledging all the good there is in different ways men have of expressing their religion, one cannot see how all can be equally right - especially if we grant (as perhaps you do not grant) that god has made a definite revelation to men. I am not going to believe that you are a plain infidel - but I do not see where God and Christianity come into your system...of course we do not believe that St. Francis, after he had converted you, would have gone off to Egypt to try to make a Christian of your late friend the Grand Mufti.

The subject of C.'s lack of faith would come up from time to time over almost 50 years of correspondence. They had many other interests to share, however, and while D.L. never gave up praying for his soul, they never had a break in their friendship.

While D.L. trusted C. "implicitly not to put before [her] anything that would be inconsistent in the least degree with the principles upon which [their] life is based and which you grasp so fully," there was one glitch. C. was an admirer of Tolstoy and had journeyed to Yasnaya, Polyana just to be in his company for one-half day. He had sent some Tolstoy writings to D.L. thinking that she would share his enthusiasm. C. was wrong. Tolstoy was not welcome at Stanbrook and in no uncertain terms D.L. wrote, "his works are not at all on the lines in which my reading lies." C. got the message and proceeded more carefully to promote some friends that he wanted D.L. to meet. Shaw was high on that list and C., learning from the Tolstoy lesson, tried a different tack. In a letter in 1907 he wondered if the people at Stanbrook had ever heard of George Bernard Shaw and "whether he is regarded as an imp of the devil - I have known him for many years and regard him not only as one of the cleverest (that is nothing) but as one of the best and honestest of living Englishmen." D.L.,s response was that she had never heard of George Bernard Shaw and it made her unhappy to think that a person so highly regarded by C. might be a "limb of the evil one."

C. was a patient as well as a prudent man and this patience was rewarded after 17 years by an inquiry from D.L.. "I hear Bernard Shaw has written a play about St. Joan." She asked C. if he could obtain a copy of the play; she was interested. C. loaned his copy to her and also wrote that it "is not yet published and mine is a very special copy You may read it aloud to the nuns if you think it will edify them."

"It is a wonderful play." D.L. wrote in a letter to C. "Joan herself is beautifully portrayed." Shaw had, however, gone astray on several historical and theological matters. "I should like to make some alterations Mr. Shaw's aspect of the trial does not please me." C. showed this letter to Shaw and his wife, Charlotte, and suggested that they call on D.L. at the earliest possible moment.

On April 24, 1924, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw paid a formal visit to D.L. at Stanbrook Abbey. They had discussed the play, St. Joan, and she was favorably impressed. Apparently the meeting had gone well for both parties. However, when C. asked Shaw when he planned to see D.L. again his response was, "Never!" Thinking then he asked, "how long has she been there?" "Nearly 50 years." "Oh, that alters the case, I'll go whenever I can." Whatever D.L. was the result of her life at Stanbrook impressed Shaw that she was not "ready made."

On October 1, 1924, Shaw presented to D.L. a copy of St. Joan including the preface, which she had not seen because it was not written until after May 1924. C.'s copy, which he had loaned to D.L., was written before May 1924. D.L. wrote to C., "I am in possession of my own St. Joan adorned with the inscription, To sister Laurentia from Brother Bernard'! Mr. Shaw is becoming quite monastic. I have thanked him and said that if I thought I had anything to say after reading the preface, I should ask leave to say it." D.L. picked up on the "Brother Bernard" by addressing all her correspondence to Shaw with that title for the rest of her life.

They were off to a good start. In her thank you letter to Shaw D.L. had also sent a copy of a small book entitled The Godly Instructions and Prayers of Blessed Thomas More Written in the Tower of London, 1535, recently published at Stanbrook in celebration of the tercentenary of the foundation of the monastery. His reply, his first of the series, reads in part:

My dear Sister Laurentia,

I am delighted to learn that my St. Joan is yours also. It sets my mind completely at ease: I know now that I have done the trick Thanks for the St. Thomas More book, which is excellently printed. Some bits are very good, but the Psalm part of it is a mere literary exercise, quite out of character with his personal attitude towards his enemies. To make a clean breast of it to you, I do not like the Psalms; they seem to me to be classic examples of fools comfort. Comforting people by telling them what they would like to believe when both parties know that it is not true is sometimes humane, and always to be let off with a light penance [sic] as between two frail mortals; but it should not be admitted to the canon. I like wisdom ever so much better.

I must stop, or I shall be kicking a cloven hoof too obviously for your dignity and peace; but I mean well, and find great solace in writing to you instead of to all the worldly people whose letters are howling to be answered.

When we are next touring in your neighborhood I shall again shake your bars and look longingly at the freedom on the other side of them.

Faithfully, G. Bernard Shaw

Shaw was not always so solicitous of other people. The coolness and flippancy, the mask he used to hide his extreme shyness to the rest of his world, was not evident in any of the known correspondence with D.L.. He could not hide, nor did he try to hide, his disconcerting and dynamic brilliance. In addition the fundamental humility, tact and quick understanding he possessed "became more and more apparent in his relations with [D.L.] as the years passed."

Early in 1931, Shaw had traveled with a group to the Holy Land. D.L. had written, before his departure, a bon voyage which also contained a request for "a little trifle from Calvary." The chief impressions of Shaw's Holy Land visit are contained in a letter of 13 sheets 9" by 6". It is a very personal account of exact observations from the beginning to the end. He reveals a sensitivity to visual impressions and religious emotions as could be desired by the most orthodox. "the sight of a boy or young man dressed in the fashion of the East recalls" the journeys of Jesus Christ. The sight of a woman cradling a baby in her arms "takes on the quality of a vision." Shaw could not find a stone in Calvary because the exact location of Calvary was not known. In Bethlehem, near the entrance to the church of the Nativity, he picked up two little stones, he wrote, scraps "of the limestone rock which certainly existed when the feet of Jesus pattered about on it and the feet of Mary pursued him to keep him in order...One to be thrown blindfold among the others at Stanbrook gardens so that there may always be a stone from Bethlehem there, though nobody will know which it is and be tempted to steal it, and the other for your own self. You shall have them when I return, unless I perish on the way, in which case I shall present myself at the heavenly gate with a stone in each hand, and St. Peter will stand at attention and salute the stones (incidentally saluting ME) when he has unlocked the gate and flung it open for me. At least he would if it were locked which I don't believe."

The letter, begun on March 17, was eventually completed and posted on the 26th. He concludes it characteristically; "you can spend a week of your scanty leisure in reading it, and then sell the manuscript to Cockerell for the Fitzwilliam and endow a chapel to St. Bernard at Stanbrook with the proceeds. The writing of it has been very restful to the soul of your brother. Affectionately, G.B.S."

D.L. in a letter to C. wrote, "Brother Bernard's is a splendid document, the least merit being its brilliancy. I believe his criticisms are such as I should have made myself if I had been there, and his appreciations seem to me most just. The Tenderness of some passages is beautiful and reveals, I imagine, the souls of the real G.B.S."

On the third Saturday in September 1931, Shaw and wife called on D.L. and presented her with two stones from Bethlehem. Shaw had gone to considerable trouble to have her personal stone encased in a hand wrought intricately designed and modeled on a mediaeval reliquary about 12 inches in height especially to focus on the stone. D.L. was enchanted and several days later showed the reliquary to C. At his suggestion she wrote Shaw to request a text which would include his and her name for posterity. She also assured Shaw "that he had the gratitude and prayers of the whole community."

The result was another Shavian barrage on October 25:

Dear Sister Laurentia,

Why can it not be a secret between us and our lady and her little boy?

What the devil - saving your cloth - could we put on it?

Cockerell writes a good hand. Get him a nice parchment and let him inscribe it with a record of the circumstances, if he must for antiquarian posterity.

We couldn't put our names on it - could we? It seems to me perfectly awful.

"an inscription explaining its purpose"! If we could explain its purpose we could explain the universe. I couldn't could you? If Cockerell thinks he can...let him try and submit the results to the Pope.

Dear Sister, our fingerprints are on it, and heaven knows whose footprints may be on the stone. Isn't that enough?

Or am I all wrong about it?

faithfully and fraternally

Brother Bernard

P.S. I don't mind being prayed for. When I play with my wireless set I realize that all the sounds in the world are in my room...The ether is full of prayers too; and I suppose if I were God I could tune into them all. Nobody can tell what influence these prayers have. If the ether is full of impulses of good will to me so much the better for me: it would be shockingly unscientific to doubt it. So let the sisters give me all the prayers they can spare; and don't forget me in yours.

A few months after this episode the Shaws, travelling in South Africa, were involved in an auto accident, which seriously injured Mrs. Shaw. Bernard Shaw was only slightly injured. During the months of his wife's convalescence Shaw wrote a book entitled The Adventures of a Black Girl in Her Search for God. Shaw had it published and sent a copy to D.L. D.L. was offended. She felt the book was blasphemous and urged Shaw to take it off the market. She was furious when he would not and Shaw, at the end of two years of unpleasant correspondence, regretfully resigned himself to being persona non grata at Stanbrook.

In late September of 1934 Shaw received a card from Stanbrook Abbey with the inscription:

IN MEMORY OF SEPT. 6

1884-1934

DAME LAURENTIA McLACHLAN

ABBESS OF STANBROOK

Shaw's reaction to this was a letter Addressed "To the Ladies of Stanbrook Abbey,"

Dear Sisters,

I have only just received the news of the death of Dame Laurentia MacLachlan. I was in Malvern from the end of July until the 16th September; and I never passed through Stanbrook without a heartfelt pang because I might not call and see her as of old. But I had no knowledge of the state of her health and no suspicion that I should never see her again in this world.

There was a time when I was in such grace with her that she asked you all to pray for me; and I valued your prayers quite sincerely. But we never know exactly how our prayers will be answered; and their effect on me was that when my wife was lying dangerously ill in Africa through an accident I wrote a little book which, to my grief, shocked Dame Laurentia so deeply that I did not dare to show my face at the abbey until I was forgiven. She has, I am sure, forgiven me now; but I wish she could tell me so

I have no right to your prayers; but if I should perhaps be remembered occasionally by those of you who remember my old visits I should be none the worse for them and very grateful.

Faithfully, G. Bernard Shaw

Shaw had misinterpreted a 50th anniversary announcement celebrating D.L.'s joining the Order of St. Benedict as an announcement of her decease! It was a fortunate

Mistake in that it ended the feud on a comical plane in which D.L. immediately dispatched a short note to Brother Bernard granting permission to call on her.

Shaw immediately responded with grace and wit, by return post:

Laurentia ! Alive !

Well !!!!!

Is this the way to trifle with a man's most sacred feelings? I cannot express myself. I renounce all beliefs I have left. I thought you were in heaven happy and blessed. And you were only laughing at me! It is your revenge for that Black Girl. Oh Laurentia, Laurentia, how could you? I weep tears of blood.

Poor Brother Bernard.

Shaw was never again persona non grata. The friendship resumed and continued until his death in 1950.

C. survived D.L. and died in 1962. While both of them kept each other's correspondence, and also their letters from Shaw, Shaw did not. Any record of what C. and D.L. wrote to Shaw can only be gleaned from the correspondence between C. and D.L.

C. was constantly offering his services and the professional services of his staff to Stanbrook. In the publishing field the professional and artistic assistance was especially welcome and helpful. His relationship with D.L. flowered from a formal, friendly and respectful one, into a warmth and love that few people ever attain over such a length of time. they also liked to share amusing anecdotes. In one of C.'s letters he wrote about a friend who had dined at his home the previous evening and had the following story:

A rich lady died in Egypt and her nephew, after ascertaining that her will was satisfactory cabled to have the body embalmed and sent to England for burial. The coffin arrived in due time, but when they unscrewed it they were dismayed to find that it contained the remains of a Russian general, who had died and been embalmed at the same time. They telegraphed to Russia to ask that the mistake be rectified and got back the answer: "Do what you please with the general; your aunt buried with full military honors!"

The story reminded D.L. of a story that Cardinal Gasquet had related to the nuns after a visit to America:

A certain man's mother-in-law went to Denver for her health and there died. A telegram was sent to the son-in-law: "Mother-in-law dead. shall we embalm, cremate or bury?" The answer came, "Embalm, cremate and bury - take no risks."

For years D.L. had a standing invitation from C. If she ever had the opportunity of being away from Stanbrook, he would accompany her and show her whatever she wanted to see in London and/or Cambridge. Surprising to both of them the opportunity occurred.

On three occasions D.L., with Papal authorization, visited other Benedictine monasteries to overhaul their choirs. One of these occasions called for a change of trains in London with a stopover from 9:50 AM to 5:42 PM. This particular adventure took place on June 11, 1923. D.L.'s letter to C. the very next day eloquently describes her feelings:

What is to be said about yesterday? It seemed to me that the day was stamped with that completeness which marks only happenings that are placed in Heaven. I thank God for every moment of it and for all its joy and jollity, and I thank you for your very large share in making it happy. It was all so unexpected (though not undreamed of) that I felt in a way rapt with its wonderfulness and meaning, and at the same time it all seemed perfectly natural and right. Those hours now seem far away, but the memory will always be with me of every detail and especially of that meeting in the (Westminster) Cathedral. I did like seeing you the first there. Those hours in the British Museum were pure bliss. But there is no good saying more. You understand, and know how much I appreciate all you did and your way of doing it.

With my love, Yours Always Sister Laurentia.

There was more to come. D.L. was granted permission on her return to Stanbrook, some two weeks later, to visit Cambridge and the Bodleian at Oxford on condition that she arrived home by eight PM. Here again is D.L. on the subject:

You know without being told all that our wonderful Tuesday meant to me. It was a day of perfect joy to mind and heart and will ever live as a golden memory, outshining even the great Monday in London. Your programme was perfect and miraculously worked out, so that looking back I can hardly believe we did so much. How to thank you for so much devotedness I do not know, except by assuring you that every little detail of your kindness and friendship is stored up in a grateful heart. It was wonderful enough that one could see Cambridge, but to have all its riches and glories spread before one with such ready courtesy all round was more than I could have dreamed of except from your inexhaustible friendship.

It was a great pleasure to see you in your home and in the Museum, and to meet Kate, little Katherine and Una.

I trust you to thank all the kind people who put themselves at our disposal That half-hour in Trinity Library with the Apocalypse was wonderful. My thoughts go back to King's [Chapel], to that beautiful monastic Queen's, but most of all, I think to Jesus, --your simple rooms and the lovely Chapel. I am thankful you took me there.

But everything was exceptional in such a day and full of wonderful beauty. I hope you were not overtired at the end. Its close at the Bodleian was just right and I shall never forget the peace and beauty of that glorious place in the evening light...

Again all my gratitude, Yours always

Sister Laurentia

The joy was mutual as the following letter from C. to D.L., written before he received her letter, will attest:

I wonder in what condition of mind and body you entered the gates of Stanbrook! What a day! What a procession of the very finest manuscripts in England passed before your very eyes! Corpus, Trinity, St. John's University Library, Bodleian, all in one day-not to mention my own ewe lambs and the enterprising manuscripts from Clare, disimmured for the first time in I know not how many decades or centuries! Again it all seems like a dream, and almost too good to be true. Perhaps when I get home tonight, or tomorrow, I shall get a letter from you. But there mustn't be thanks in it. We are too good friends for that, and the adventure was a joint one, with happiness overflowing for both of us.

It seems safe to conclude that the three friends, the Faithful, the Faithless and the Famous could echo William Butler Yeats and say:

"My glory was I had such friends."

John S. Wilson

2/24/97 Return to PAPERS
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