Читать книгу William Lyon Mackenzie King - lian goodall - Страница 14
ОглавлениеUniversity of Toronto
Toronto, Ontario
October, 1891
“Let’s go on an expedition, lads!” King proposed. “Let’s hike out over to the cemetery and visit the grave of Toronto’s first mayor and hero of the people.”
“Your grandfather, you mean?” asked his longtime friend from Berlin, Louis Breithaupt.
“Of course!” King smiled.
“It’s a grand day,” his college pal Bert Harper pointed out. “Let’s go!” Harper and Breithaupt were as eager as King to explore their new surroundings.
Looking smart in their new suits and hats, the three young men set out. The city near the University of Toronto boomed with the sounds of industrial growth. As they made their way through streets filled with bustling carts and trolley cars, the students couldn’t help notice that not all of Toronto’s 181,000 souls were in step with the march toward progress. Many recently arrived immigrants were homeless. The boys passed alleys where entire families camped out despite the chill of the autumn nights. When King saw the faces of dirty and hungry children he wondered how things got that way and what he could do to make them better.
When the young men entered the cemetery, the angry din of the city was replaced with a golden-green peace. The autumn sun smiled, the leaves danced down from the trees and fell onto the quiet memorials of the generations who, King believed, had gone on to greater glory.
Although he couldn’t remember quite where the grave was, as if led by instinct, Willie led the little band in search of Mackenzie’s burial site. “Here it is!” he called out before long.
When the boys gathered around Mackenzie’s grave, King almost couldn’t speak. It was such a powerful moment, reverently observing the hallowed spot and seeing friends’ faces, quietly impressed.
King held his hat in his hands and briefly closed his eyes. He thought of all his grandfather had worked to accomplish in his life. But the poor suffered as much as they had in the days when the elder William Lyon was alive. His grandson should change things. Surely he would accomplish some great work before he died!
Silently, King renewed his vow to become as great a man as he could and to help others. At university he would prepare himself for his life’s work, whatever God showed him it would be.
A few days later he wrote about his experiences in a letter home. Often, Willie missed his family. He decorated his stark room at the boarding house with their pictures. The largest one centred over the mantelpiece was a photograph of his father looking noble in his legal robes. Willie was proud that his father, a former student of the university and now serving on its senate, was highly regarded by young and old alike. In fact, Willie introduced himself to some of his classmates as the son of “Senator Rex” of Berlin. The nickname stuck, and Willie became known as Rex to his closest friends.
Like any eighteen-year-old living in a big city and away from his parents for the first time, Rex had a lot of fun sampling the social aspects of university life. He was always in a laughing group of students, at dances, the theatre, sports matches, and Glee Club events. Willie enjoyed the company of his friends and especially his female acquaintances. In King’s circle it seemed there was always a beautiful young lady whom he admired. For a while, the lovely Mab Moss received his attentions, but he never let himself become distracted for too long.
To enter into his life’s mission King wanted to have his body, mind, and soul at their best. To keep his body in shape he worked out at the gym and continued to play sports such as cricket and football. To strengthen his soul he prayed every day, attended church, and devoted his spare time to good works, such as visiting sick children in the hospital. To sharpen his mind he joined the debating club, spoke at political clubs, and studied, studied, studied.
King had entered a relatively new area of study at the University of Toronto – political science. He worked hard to get good marks – even put notes on his bedpost so he could revise while dressing! In 1893 he was quite pleased when his hard work paid off when he was awarded the Blake Scholarship. He was also proud when he was voted president of his class. His family wrote to congratulate him. Bella teased: “You seem such a young boy to make President but I hope in every way the position you have attained will bring much pleasure to all about you & that you will act in a way becoming the grandson of the late William Lyon Mackenzie. Is not that a speech?”
Being smart and having friends wasn’t enough for King. He was always pushing himself to do more. In 1893 he began to write about his struggle for betterment in his private diary, a journal that he would keep until a few days before he died. In his diary he would chart his dreams, detail his daily activities, bemoan his shortcomings, and crow his victories. On September 6, 1893 he earnestly penned the first entry:
This diary is to contain a very brief sketch of the events, actions, feelings and thoughts of my daily life. It must above all be a true and faithful account. The chief object of my keeping this diary is that I may be ashamed to let even one day have nothing worthy of its showing, and it is hoped that through its pages the reader may be able to trace how the author sought to improve his time.
In his ascension to goodness and greatness, Willie drew inspiration from those around him. He brushed elbows with the noted intellectual Goldwin Smith. When the Kings left Woodside they moved to Toronto, and rented a house from the Smiths. John King, now a lecturer at Osgoode Hall, was a friend of the famous man. Smith’s thoughts on economics and the unfulfilled potential of Canada as an independent nation fuelled many spirited conversations. Now the family was happily gathered together again – in the library of the house on Grange Road – to discuss matters of the changing world.
Willie also talked to his family about the biographies of the famous reformers he had read. He was particularly inspired when he read Arnold Toynbee. Toynbee was a British economist and humanitarian who had worked himself to death in 1883 at age thirty-one from his efforts to help the poor. King read how Toynbee Hall had been opened in an immigrant section of London as a haven for the poor and a centre of education. There the well-off and educated could live and work with their less fortunate brothers and sisters. After reading Toynbee’s essays on the working class in the Industrial Revolution, King “was simply enraptured by his writings…” He confessed to his diary “I have at last found a model for my future work in life.” He also attended talks at a conference on Education and Religion given by another person who had been inspired by Toynbee. The famous American settlement worker, Miss Jane Addams, had been spurred to action by Toynbee’s example. Willie was thinking that social work combined with the ministry might be a fine way to make a difference in the world.
Willie was aware that politicians were also people who had the power to perform good works. He greatly admired the famous Liberal Prime Minister William Ewart Gladstone, who had just served his fourth term as prime minister of Britain. The young student knew that one of the earliest good works the politician had performed was to rescue girls who had “fallen” into prostitution.
Above all these examples of thinking and acting people was Grandfather. With his eyes opened wide, Willie read a biography of Mackenzie written by Uncle Charles Lindsey. He was especially stirred by Mackenzie’s love of the poor, “the humble and the lowly.” He felt his grandfather’s blood “coursing through my veins,” and his heart beat more quickly with resolve to make his mark by helping others.
Sick Children’s Hospital, Toronto
January 6, 1894
King watched the little girl on the bed struggle with death. Her breathing was so shallow that it could not be heard over the gentle swish, swish of the nurses’ long starched skirts as they came and went.
“Katie,” he said softly. Her eyes fluttered open. “Shall I say a prayer? Shall we pray that your family will draw nearer our Lord as you have?” he asked her. “Then they will have a beautiful home in the hereafter,” he continued, “just like the one that waits for you.”
Katie smiled, but she could no longer speak. King began to pray out loud. In his mind, he also prayed that soon Katie’s earthly suffering would end and her eternal reward begin.
Almost every Sunday since he had arrived in Toronto, King had conducted religious services and read Sunbeam stories to the children at the Sick Children’s Hospital. He loved his time with the eager children and the dear nurses, whom he also sought to guide towards eternal life through letters and talks.
When Katie Cameron’s bright little spark went out, King thought about what she had told him about the terrible life she had lived. She had confidentially confessed some of the things that she and her sister had done to survive. King knew it was time to do more, to take his work beyond the hospital walls. Shortly after the last hymns were sung at little Katie’s funeral, Willie called on her parents. Next he went to see her sister and spoke to her about stopping “her wicked life” and turning to Christ. Nina cried a little and seemed ready to repent. Encouraged, King went back to visit her another time at Mrs. Sherman’s boarding house, but instead learned she was at a different house on King Street. When he arrived he found “a young fellow there, a perfect scoundrel, I believe, who has wished to marry her, but she refused him and decided to come with me to Mrs. Sherman’s.” Once there they had a long, quiet talk, “a little hymn and a little prayer.”
Over the next while King devoted a lot of energy to helping Nina. In his diary, he never really says what she was doing, but despite her good intentions, it seems change wasn’t possible. A few months later Nina was arrested and imprisoned for theft. Shortly after, young King, like his hero Gladstone, tried to help a prostitute, but his efforts weren’t as persistent after he had met failure with Nina.
His time prior to graduation was very busy, filled with social work and political activities. King had become involved with a student strike to protest favouritism in hiring staff and the wrongful dismissal of a professor at the university. Before a large crowd of his classmates, Rex spoke excitedly against the “tyranny” of the university administration and called for a government investigation. The university did not seem to appreciate his actions. Shortly after his graduation with a Bachelor of Arts degree in 1895, King applied for a scholarship so he could do a master’s degree at the University of Toronto. His request was denied. Willie and his parents were furious.
Willie had made the same application to the University of Chicago and was cheerfully offered a small scholarship. At that time, King felt it was impossible to continue his education. His family was swimming in debt and Max was eying university too. Finances were so bad that John took out another loan and Bella and Jennie were thinking of taking up jobs to help! Willie decided to work for a year and study independently. In the evenings he and a friend studied for their law degrees under John Kings watchful eye. Willie earned money by tutoring others, and he also found employment in a series of writing jobs with Toronto papers.
He knew he didn’t want to be a journalist and he was coming to the conclusion that he didn’t want to be a practising lawyer either. His father was disappointed, but Willie continued to study so that he could at least have a degree in law. He wasn’t sure which career he should chose – minister, politician, social worker or – who knew – professor? Clearly he needed more education. King soothed himself with the thought that his work on his master’s degree was merely postponed. He wrote in his diary that covering police court and other stories was a good way to see “the shadowy side of life, looking at everything from an eco[nomic] standpoint. I will derive great benefit from my after work. I fully intend to made academic work my profession and am taking journalism as an entire year of practical example in the great school of life.”
By spring his life would change.
Toronto
May 2, 1896
King spent the morning in court covering the story of two fourteen-year-old girls who had been arrested for the theft of several rings. It had been the usual morning of the sublime and the ridiculous, with fainting and other dramatic effects, to which, by now, he was accustomed. After the girls had been sentenced to jail, and court had adjourned, King left the dreary courthouse and went out into the lovely spring sunshine. He had a shave and a shoeshine and then did some shopping. He bought a silk tie and some kid gloves for evening outings and a cane of Congo oak with a silver tip. He left the walking stick at Kent’s to have his initials, W.L.M.K., engraved on it for an extra fifteen cents.
With a jaunty step, he strolled on to meet his friend Henry Kingstone. The two set off to keep a theatre date with Charlie Cross, Willie’s partner in his legal studies. On the way there they called on an old lady by the name of Mrs. Menden. Mrs. Menden was a fortuneteller. She divulged some “strange truths” to Willie.
She said I had left study for a while and was at commercial work (newspaper) which was a pity. I should keep at the other profession.
Had thought of ministry and might get into it. Tho’ now not as religious as I ought to be.
That my initials were W. M. and last name King, first name Willie.
I was fond of intellectual girls, and did not care particularly for dances etc.
Was fond of children, and practical.
Would live to be old and would be successful.
Wd. go to Chicago this fall and wd. hear of appointment in about 10 days.
Four days later King had a letter from the University of Chicago once again offering him a fellowship to study political economics and sociology. King Senior was pleased. So was Isabel, although she cried and slept badly. Willie would be leaving them.
Willie knew he could not miss this opportunity to begin fulfilling his dreams. In Chicago he hoped to study, do original work, and take steps towards achieving his goals. He told himself that he would be nearer the masses he wanted to serve more seriously, so that he would be “drawn closer to the living God.” Willie had no rest, for there was a voice that whispered, night and day, Go to Chicago, go to Chicago. He packed his trunk.
Hull-House, Nineteenth Ward
Chicago, Illinois, United States
January 7, 1897
“I am afraid, Miss Addams,” King said, nervously tapping his fingers on the desk in front of him, “that money is not my sole consideration.”
Not long after he arrived in Chicago in the early autumn of 1896, King had called on Jane Addams at Hull-House. Addams had helped found this inner-city settlement house in one of the city’s “worst” districts in 1889. Here, as at the Toynbee Hall settlement house in England, people came to teach and live with the poor. Addams and her volunteer workers hoped they were giving their charges the tools they needed to address the wrongs in their horrible living and working conditions. Volunteers helped men, women, and children, many of them immigrants, learn to read and write. They established kindergartens and worked to change legislation. They held enthusiastic talks on literature, art, health, childcare, worker safety, and industrial unions.
In October, at Addams’s invitation, King had eagerly taken up residence at Hull-House. Now, only a few months later, he was informing Addams that he could not go on as a volunteer. Thinking the issue was money, Addams responded by looking at the young student with understanding brown eyes and offering him a small salary.
“I enjoy the speeches and my work,” King yammered uncomfortably, “but it is walking and taking the train from Hull-House, for two hours each day through misery, wretchedness, vice and degradation, abomination, filthiness and noise to classes where I must concentrate! It is just too much!” Willie babbled. “In fact, I consulted my doctor as I’m afraid I’m about to have a nervous breakdown. Furthermore,” he added sincerely, “I do not feel I’m doing either job well. I think I will better be able to help others if I complete my master’s degree first.”
“Of course,” Addams agreed, sympathetically. Suddenly they heard a crash followed by a wail from one of the kindergarten rooms. Addams was on her feet and off to divert a catastrophe. The interview was over. With over two thousand souls to care for each week Addams was very busy. Perhaps, after all, she didn’t have time to understand.
King felt rebuffed for but a moment. He reminded himself his work lay in his studies. He would work hard and he would do good.
Toronto
September 19, 1897
William Mulock, the postmaster general, had the appearance of a staid Victorian gentleman. With his white beard and formal poise, he looked like someone who might have dismissed the young man before him as a wet-behind-the-ears whipper-snapper.
Young King had come to Mulock to divulge terrible wrongs that he had discovered were going on right under the governments eyes – even with the government’s sanction, he had almost suggested. “My mind was ablaze!” King passionately confessed as he described the investigation he had done for an article on the terrible conditions of the garment trade. “Women work long hours for a few pennies!” King contended. “And the work they were doing in these sweat shops was sewing letter carrier uniforms.” Government contracts, King had discovered, had been subcontracted to men who unfairly ran “sweat shops” and drew huge profits while the workers were paid pittances.
For a number of reasons Mulock heard out the clean-shaven, energetic young man with courtesy and patience. Mulock and John King were colleagues and friends, whose families moved in the same social circles. John had suggested his son speak to Mulock before he sent results of his investigation to print. When he was vice-chancellor at the University of Toronto, Mulock had seen young King and learned something of his interest in labour, politics, and philosophy. Mulock was now postmaster general and a Liberal member in the House of Commons. As the century drew to a close, he was one of Prime Minister Laurier s party men listening to changing ideas and aware that the Liberals would need young people with new skills and energies to carry them out. He was interested in seeing how bright young King’s fire might burn.
“What do you suggest?” he asked calmly.
“A study!” Willie answered without hesitation. “The government could hire me to carry out a study of the matter with suggestions for reforming the system.”
“That,” Mulock replied slowly, “is a good idea.”
Willie worked on the landmark study and completed his master’s thesis on the International Typographical Union during 1897. One other very important event in his life occurred that year. During the winter he spent three weeks at St. Luke’s Hospital recovering from typhoid fever. His stay was just long enough that he became enamoured with nurse Mathilde Grosset, a woman with lovely wavy hair, an intriguing German accent, and a “beautiful Christian character.” By spring of 1898 Kings fancy had turned to thoughts of love, to the point where he was preparing to marry his nurse. He pictured himself assuming his grandfather’s mantle, fighting for right with his beloved by his side.
His family brought him back to earth with a crash. Father, Mother, and sister Jennie provided a united front – a forceful wave of sternly reproaching letters. They reminded Willie that he had not finished his education or even begun a career, which was unfair to the girl and to himself. Furthermore, they counted on him, Father pointed out, as his “first duty is to those at home.” Even Jennie royally chastised him, but Mother wrote the most scathing letter. She complained how she was growing weary with age. She solicited his charity not so much for herself, but for his sisters. “I have built castles without number for you,” she reminded him. “Are all these dreams but to end in dreams?”
Although King agonized, in a few months it was clear the affair would end. He spent the summer healing his wounds and expanding his prospects. “A man’s success very much depends on his social qualities,” his father had taught him. King summered with the wealthy Gerry family, tutoring their two sons. In summers previous to this he had visited Bert near Barrie, Ontario and paddled schoolgirls about on the Muskoka lakes. Now he stayed in the United States, on Rhode Island, tasted his first sip of champagne, and was within smiling distance of the cultured Miss Julia Grant, granddaughter of American Civil War hero and president, Ulysses S. Grant. King still had no position and wasn’t sure whether he would have a career in the hallowed halls of academia or elsewhere. But he was twenty-five, had education and connections, and his future, ah, his future was bright.
He received a master’s degree from the University of Toronto in 1897 and another from Harvard in 1898. He began studies in political science and work at Harvard on a PhD. He would later complete his PhD dissertation on “Oriental Immigration to Canada,” but when Harvard granted him a travelling scholarship, he eagerly set off to discover Europe. While he took in the breathtaking scenery of Britain, France, Switzerland, and Italy, he got to know important people who might be of help one day.
One day in late June after he had been cycling with a friend in the countryside around Rome, Rex was heading to his hotel room when the desk clerk called out “Signor King, a telegram.” With amazement he read:
June 26, 1900
Will you accept the editorship and management of new Government Labor Gazette, Ottawa? Begin duties early in July. Salary fifteen hundred dollars. May increase. If yes, come. Wm. Mulock
Mulock had not forgotten him, and his proposition was intriguing. The Dominion government was just beginning to form a department for Labour. King could be in on the ground floor.
However, Harvard was also offering him a position as lecturer in political economics. What to do, what to do? A position with the civil service with the government of Canada or one in the halls of Harvard?
I still have work to do, King thought, remembering his unfinished doctorate. He decided to decline Canada’s offer.
