Wilfred
Campbell came back to Canada feeling well satisfied
with his trip to the mother country, and that
he had laid foundation stones for the fulfilment
of his dreams,—those dreams so real to him but
rather vague at times to other people—dreams that
might all be attributed to his great desire, (a
desire that amounted to a passion, for which he
would have gone to any length of self sacrifice)
to help Britain retain that greatness of Empire
she had achieved in the past, a greatness she
suspected at times of being molested. I can’t
say whether these dreams were practical or not,
but the poet wanted a foothold, some sort of a
place where he could be of real service to his
country. Surely back of all great deeds and achievements
that have been accomplished by patriots, their
sincere desire and determination have carried
them through all obstacles. Such a desire and
determination were like a guiding star to Wilfred
Campbell, and he was as one looking to the heights
for his opportunity. In the meantime there was
his family at home, who were as part of him, and
could not live by dreams alone. Existence was
somewhat of a financial struggle and the poet’s
ideas for his children were not small. His family
in the past had seen better days, and the fact
that the preceding generation had flopped so to
speak, hurt his pride, and he wanted his children
to put the family back where it belonged in the
years behind them. Flopping families were no bulwark
for the nation.
The
poet was very serious and the genius of Bernard
Shaw for turning things upside down and shaking
them, did not amuse my father, but only wounded
him. The old constitution of his beloved Empire
should not be so lightly dealt with. A play like
"O’Flaherty V.C." might even tempt him
to suspect the author of disloyalty. Wilfred Campbell
had a sane sense of fun and homely humour, but
not that keen sense of the ridiculous that makes
your sides ache with laughter. Had G.B.S. been
sitting in an audience beside my father at one
of his own productions, watching the effect of
his play on the people, as I am sure he loves
to do, he would have been quite satisfied with
my father’s irate criticism. This seriousness
made things very difficult for the poet at the
time.
In
December 1906 Wilfred Campbell became a grandfather
at the age of 45, and his first grandchild arrived
a baby girl Diana. As she was born and was to
live under his roof she seemed a special being
created for his benefit. Anyway she was taken
possession of and claimed as his own. She was
one of those active lively babies who took her
first steps at nine months and talked very early.
In her grandmother’s eyes she was a most gifted
child, and people were usually expected to satisfy
her demands. She cut her teeth comfortably on
the corners of Shakespear[e]’s plays, or any autograph
copy of poetry, that her grandfather was in the
habit of reading to her from the age of nine months
on. Even though her conversation was limited he
felt quite sure that he was communicating with
her superior intelligence. Some of the first words
she learned to say were the names of some of Shakespeare[’]s
characters and she considered his small red volumes
her special property. She would pull them out
of the book-case climb on her grandfather’s knee,
and demand to be read to. Some times you might
see her gazing at a book up side down, listening
for her grandfather[’]s voice to come out of it,
or she might be chewing the corner of it quite
comfortably. There were many books in the Poet’s
library that showed signs of his grand-daughter’s
supposedly early taste for literature. Anyway
he was perfectly satisfied when he and she alone
shared that sacred domain the library.
About
two years later Jane, a true gift of the Gods,
a genuine gypsy of a baby with character and appeal
written all over her arrived. She was to rule
the family with a rod of iron, and seemed to have
the greatest sense of truth and justice and thought
for others. Jane was a natural little mother,
and when she was not more than 18 months old she
was presented with a little sister whom she took
immediate possession of, and announced "It
is a booy" meaning a boy. When Jane was naughty
she was quite aware of it and she could feed herself
nicely was once discovered putting spoons of porridge
deliberately into her shoes instead of her mouth,
saying all the time "bad bad baby."
A little later on in life when she and her sisters
were discussing what they would do when they were
grown up, Jane announced that she was going to
be an ordinary common woman like Aunt Faith and
get married and have a lot of children. When Jane
was two and a half and Dr. Gibson had just vaccinated
her on her fat little arm, she said to him, "Bad
bad man say your sorry and kiss it and make it
well.’ All these baby sayings may be quite unnecessary
here, but they show you how Jane’s little mind
worked. These babies were the greatest joy in
life to the poet.
The
months and the years went on, and each year found
Wilfred Campbell struggling to go back to England
to pick up the threads of his Imperial dreams.
It was not that he forgot them in Canada, but
that he was too busy, and taken up with other
necessary things, to allow time for such matters
in an every day existence. He was constantly writing
and produced two or three novels, a book on Eastern
Canada, and other works of a descriptive or historical
nature besides his poetry. Some of these prose
writings were written under the stress of circumstances,
and might be termed in fact as efforts to ease
the financial strain. In his poetry Wilfred Campbell
was able to forget these things, and lose himself
entirely in the inspiration of the moment.
In
June 1909 your grandfather was transferred to
the Dominion Archives, from the Department of
the Secretary of State where he had been for eighteen
years. This new appointment afforded him a great
deal of satisfaction, for it enabled him to pursue
his historical studies, and put him in personal
touch with valuable and original documents and
records. |
