BOISSEVAIN NEWS USA

Spike in Dublin to HvS Washington - prob. Dec. 1942.

Spike in NYC to HvS Washington, Sept. 4, 1942.

WWII AND EARLY POSTWAR LETTERS,
SPIKE AND HILDA, 1942-1946

 Spike Marlin served in the Office of Strategic Services in World War II, based in Dublin and Ireland. These letters provide an informal record of his time there. They may be matched against the formal record in, for example, the introduction to “An American Spy in Ireland.” These letters have been transcribed and annotated by John Tepper Marlin.

Dublin to HvS Washington - prob. Dec. 1942

[Spike had just been in London; Fragment, Univ. Club stationery.]  

… or in public places.  Watts, the Press Attache in Dublin, was in London at the same time as myself and we visited a famous old pub now a rendezvous for the services.  The spirit of these men, just off of duty from conveying ships across the ocean in little corvettes, or back from air raids, was remarkably high.  If our politicians can fraternize as successfully as our soldiers everything will go well.

The blackout is something to experience.  A flashlight (or torch, as they call it), will save you from thousand traps like hydrants, lamp posts, cellars, holes in the street, etc.  One night, as I came out of the office, a rat scuttled past my feet, not a pleasant sensation either.

The continental people, refugees whom I met, are terribly anxious about their future and London is a center of intrigue for the politicians.  You will have read about the deGaulle – Darlan situation.  It was the talk of London last week.  In the course of my stay I met several well known people and my feeling was that our country has very good representation in England.  You will understand that I can’t go into details.  When I came away I felt there would be a tremendous job to do after the war in organizing and administering poor Europe’s needs, and if I can get into that phase of work later I shall be very happy.  The first step is to learn French properly and this I am going to do forthwith, with Andrew Skeffington as coach.  However, don’t jump to conclusions about this because it is only an idea of mine, not a definite thing at all.  Wouldn’t it be fun to live in London for a few years or Paris or Amsterdam which suggests the desirability of learning Dutch as well.

Alfie and Nieburg asked to be remembered to you and your mother and Willem[1] as did James W. and Harold G.  Also a man named Dr. McCaughey, who was at St. Andrews with Willem, sends his kindest regards to Willem.  He remembers Willem best as the boy who coached him in maths during the classes at St. Andrews.

Your letters 10 and 11 arrived today.  Please tell the office not to use official envelopes – they insist on placing your letters inside them – just plain envelopes would be much better for reasons they should know.[2]  Quite agree with all you’ve done about Bridie[3] and the guests, etc.  Things will not be easy for you I’m afraid but the only thing I can think of doing won’t help – that is, come back.  So keep the home fires burning if you can find any wood and don’t forget I love you very much and long for the day I return to home, wife and children.

Love to you all and a Happy Christmas.   Spike.

Washington, Sept. 4, 1942

The Airport, New York[4]

Dearest,

It seems we still have a few minutes before we leave so here is a note to say goodbye again.

Tell Olga I shall expect her to brush her teeth regularly as an example to Brigid and Randal.  Brigid ought to be more helpful, Randal less quarrelsome, Sheila drier and John Anthony is perfect.  Kiss them all for me and tell them not to forget their daddy who loves them dearly.

Saw my parents[5] and they were very excited I was going to “England.”[6]  Also saw Tim Dowling and Mrs. D. last night, Tim is going to Wash. soon and promised to see you to tell of my last night in U.S.  Ask him to dinner, won’t you?  He is really quite charming in his own Irish way.

Enclosed is a receipt of my ticket.  In case anything should happen on the way, which is most unlikely, you ought to keep this and turn it over to a lawyer who will collect a price for my head from the American Export Lines.  Horrible, but it makes me feel better to know you won’t be penniless.

Well, a more cheerful countenance and I’ll cable you directly on arrival.

A thousand hugs and kisses from your ever devoted husband, 

            Spike xxxxxxxxx.

Dublin to HvS Washington, Sept. 25, 1942[7]

Legation of the United States of America Standard Hotel [Dublin] 
 

 [Mrs. Hilda van Stockum Marlin

3728 Northampton St.

Washington, DC]

Dearest Hilda,

I should have written before but without any word from you thus far the compelling force of an unanswered letter has been lacking.  Have you sent any letters to Tom[8] for transmittal?  Unless you send them that way it will take years to get here. The diplomatic pouch, I am told, takes only a week.

By now I have pretty much settled down.  The Standard Hotel is a rather cheerless place, however, & I intend to move as soon a I find a better ‘ole.  Flats in Dublin are practically unobtainable so the best alternative seems to be the Dublin University Club which is very central– on Stephen’s Green.  The only drawback is the subscription–10 guineas a year– but perhaps that will be permitted as an extraordinary expense, justified by the valuable “contacts” resulting fr om such membership.  Actually, the place is a rendezvous for many of the people we/I used to know–David Mitchell, Nigel Kinnear, Harold Douglas & other professional and business people who have frish-hand experience with the “passing parade”.

Last weekend I spent with Harry[9] and Billy at Sutton.  Two nieces were there–Brigid Crichton and Phoebe Kirkwood.[10]  Brigid is now a handsome, intelligent girl of 13, going to school in Dublin.  Phoebe is Billy’s brother Charles’ daughter and she expects to enter Trinity[11] this autum.  Harry spent most of Saturday and Sunday painting.  She seemed to think my comment on her work was good.  I said I liked two still-lifes she had done. About her portraits I said nothing and she probably felt my lack of enthusiasm but did not resent it because I believe she feels the same way.  Her work here has not developed at all from what she used to do when we visited them and in a way I think it is proof of the sterility of the French School that instead of getting more profound in their understanding their followers get more and more superficial.  I think you said that the great contribution of this school was their bold use of color but by itself color has no significance at all.  Anyway Harry decided to send in the still-life to the Dublin painters show and I am going to see the opening of it and have tea afterward at Nora McGuinness’ with the artists, many of whom you will know, undoubtedly.  What a pity you can’t be here too.

Did I tell you I saw John and Joan[12] and their children?  John is very much interested in a new political party which has social and economic objectives instead of the old political ones, a healthy sign.  Unfortunately, I can’t agree with many of the things they want to do because they have no relation to the laws of nature–geographic, human or climatic.

One night at the Palace Bar where I went to introduce Mr. Watts, our Press Attaché, to Bertie Smyllie of the Irish Times I ran into the husband of Mr. Lerrin’s daughter─Alfred Duff is his name—he plays the organ at a Protestant church in Kingstown[13] and arranges music for Radio Eireann.   I told him about his stranged wife and his daughter. He was glad to get news of them.  Also met M. J. McManus, editor of the Irish Press, who says he used to know you at Madame Cogley’s.  Everyone has been exceedingly nice, and I haven’t had a dinner at my hotel for two weeks.  Nevertheless, the separation from you all is beginning to make itself felt and it will help a great deal if you will write often and send snaps occasionally.  Tell the children I miss them very much and they must be especially good as their contribution to the war.[14]

If you run into Mr. or Mrs. Collins will you say I saw Mr. Collins’ brother and have a very nice lunch with him at the Gresham. He was very helpful to me, introducing me to people in the government and getting books I need.  He has a very important job here and is apparently extremely well regarded so the brothers are carrying out a similar record in both countries.  I’ll write Maurice[15] one day about it.

There is a great shortage of fuel in the country and my fingers are numb as I push the pen along the paper.  I suppose exposure will get me acclimatized but meanwhile suffering is endure.  So far as I have seen, the food situation appears tolerable.  Bread is made from whole wheat and in one of the Dail[16] debates, which I am reading, a T.D.[17] wrote of a poor woman who set before her husband a sod of turf to eat and put the bread in the fire by mistake.  The bread has upset my tummy but recovery has set in.  Food prices are high and they seem to be getting higher.  Butter and milk and bread all going up.  What the poor will do goodness only knows.  Money flows plentifully in the country among those who are selling cattle at high prices and in other ways making a good thing out of the war scarcity.  Also many people have gone over to England to jobs paying very high wages and part of this money is being sent back.  Nevertheless, as an American correspondent who was here wrote, this country has more food and better than any other in Europe and he probably was right.

Did I tell you I saw Pic[18] in Grafton St.?  Talked with her for only a minute and got the impression she had become exceedingly schoolmistressy.

So far I haven’t had a chance to meet Evie H,[19] but expect to do so soon. Harry says she is the only one in Dublin really doing good work, and I think he has a great admiration for her.  Also father C[20] has not had any word from me but I shall do them both before long.  Brigid O’Brien has gone into hiding since the Consul entertained us but today I am meeting her brother-in-law who knows all about cattle and that is my present passion. Among other names of people I’ve seen are Whalker and Nus Starkie—his mother asked after you and your mother.  Mr. and Mrs. Goor who also inquired, John Beaumont and Auchinerty.  Tell Willem[21] I met McConnell and bought him two drinks.  The others will come soon.

Now, goodbye for the present.   xxxxxxx   Spike

Dublin to HvS Washington, October 18, 1942 

University Club
Dublin
 

[Mrs. Hilda van Stockum Marlin

3728 Northampton St.

Washington, DC]

Dearest Hilda,

The Dublin climate is having effect on me as you can see from my not having written you for so long. Even now, however, I have had no word from you to inspire a reply. Whatever has happened to the mail service!

Since my last letter I saw Mrs. Morley and collected Jan’s desk,[22] on which I am now writing, and two trunks full of Wendepunkts[23] and Just Havelaar’s magazine.[24]  I threw the W[endepunkt]’s away and if you say the word I’ll dish [ditch?] the others.  The albums are safe but with your permission I would like to give away or sell the rest of the books of no value to us.  You can trust me not to dispose of anything valuable [!] although I must say I saw little of that.  All personal things I shall keep of course.  Mrs. Morley was very nice and asked to be remembered to you and je moeder.[25]

Then I called on May[26] and had a very pleasant reunion with her and [her sister] Bridy.  They gave me tea and talked very nicely about you as you might expect. May sent her very best.  She looks quite well although with her mother gone she has the whole family to look after and she works harder than she really ought considering her physical limitations.  About her mother’s passing she said “It is well she has gone, with the rationing and the high prices and the little money we have she would have been too worried.  Thank God she doesn’t have to live through these times.”  Very Catholic, don’t you think? I left them some money and asked them to have Michael[27] get in touch with me which he did.  It seems Michael has become a marvellous cabinetmaker and a table he did is in the National Museum.  I asked him to do one for us as a memento and he was delighted with the idea.  He goes in for Celtic design on furniture and expect he will turn out something really beautiful.  Of course I talked with him about the general state of affairs and good Catholic that he is, you would have found it hard to distinguish his viewpoint from that of Monsignor Smyth or any of the others. But I talked with him and think made an impression for our side.  I like Michael very much–absolutely honest and sincere, a religious man if I ever saw one.  He had many nice things to say about you, in fact there are an extraordinary number of people who feel the same way over here so I won’t wonder if you get homesick.

Did I tell you I saw little Mr. Murray?  I am going out to his lodge one day soon. Speaking of Murray reminds me that yersterday I was taking four of your books that Viking sent me to a friend when I ran into young Nolan of Browne & N.[28] on the street.  He wanted to see what I have and after a brief glance at them he grabbed my arm and rushed me down Nassau St. to his office.  Before I had left he was dispatching a wire to Hamish Hamilton, Viking’s London agent, for 100 copies of each of your books.  I doubt there will be that many and it isn’t likely space will be available on ships for any large quantities to be sent over.  I wonder would it be possible for Viking to give Br[own] & N.[olan] the Irish rights to publish the three Irish books.  At any rate your work has had no entrance into the country and now it may at last get some appreciation over here.

            I went out to Evie Hone’s yesterday for tea. Earlier I had had lunch with some friends in Dundrum & was going back to town to get a Rathfarnam bus back when from the top of my bus I saw Evie and her maid riding in the opposite direction in a pony trap (enclosed are pictures of it).   I lepped [sic] out, quick as a hare, & caught them up and rode with them in the trap to her house.  Going up hill I got out & pushed because the pony is about 20 years old–so Evie says–& needs help on the ups.  At Evie’s I saw Curtis again, Joe Hone and your picture of Father Colquhoun which I liked ever so much.  She has had it framed nicely behind glass and it looks perfectly beautiful.

Evie was much friendlier, or should I say, talkative this time and we got along quite well on matters artistic and personal–another of your admirers!  She is going to write you soon & wants me to take back a bit of a glass window when the time comes.

On Tuesday I went to Miss Purser’s usual at home. The old lady is now 94!  She had met me in Fitzwilliam place with Harry Kirkwood & some others after the Dublin Painters Show and asked me over to her house.  But when I arrived she looked at me curiously & said “Who are you?”  Apparently she doesn’t remember people any more because after my shock at being asked who I was, I found she says the same to other people.

I went to John Dowling to see about a tooth and he said characteristically that dentistry was a “cod” the more you fill them the weaker they get, the weaker they are the sooner they have to come out; if you get a bridge it weakens the teeth on which the bridge rest & so you pull out those teeth as well.  “You might as well have all your teeth out now,” says John, “& put in plates.”  I left him hastily.  How does he make a living?

My circle of contacts grows wider and I am meeting a lot of people I usen’t to know–economists, agricultural experts, politicians & the like.  My arrival was announced in the papers and they mentioned my having worked for Social Security & Farm Credit and so I have been asked to lecture a union on the subject.

Enclosed some snaps taken at the McDonald’s.  The little boy is Olive’s.  He is six–his name is Michael Frederick Howard Craig-Cooper! Lovely little fellow.  How are mine? You had better start taking some new snaps for me soon.

Love  xxx  Spike

Dublin to HvS Washington, November 15, 1942 

UNIVERSITY CLUB
DUBLIN 

Dearest Hilda,

Number 7 and 8 arrived but still no No. 4.  I am afraid that one is at the bottom or it may have been on the clipper that crashed in Newfoundland.  I’ve got some magazines from the wreck that were watersoaked.

You have my deepest sympathy in the matter of living costs and I only wish it were possible for me to do something about the situation.  When sending me any of the things I have asked for be sure to deduct the cost of them from money you send me, and in making out our income tax it is my impression that whatever I get for living over here is not to be added in as a part of our income.  If things get too difficult let me know.

The pictures of the children are lovely and it gave me great pleasure to see them, and the Valentines were beautiful too.  Please convey my appreciation to Olga and Brigid for them.

As for the pictures you did of the Conners, I intend to visit them as soon as I get a car and gasoline to drive it, in fact I hope to be able to make some photographs of the paintings for you.

Today is quite cold again and the small script reflects the difficulty of moving my fingers across the page.  The trouble with cold weather in Ireland is that it never gets cold enough long enough to induce people to take measures against the weather.  Instead they all crouch around a fire and drink whiskey until the cold passes away and then they just drink whiskey.  You may take it that I have been doing my best to keep warm.

Last night I went out to the Keatings for dinner.  Keating has build himself a house of his own design, a most unusual house to say the least.  He has a kind of studio living room in which the ceiling es the underside of the roof with rafter exposed, rather like the pech’s old house.  This style, you may recall, is peculiarly suited to maintaining a room at near zero temperature and to provide heat there si turf-fire at the side.  The other side or end of the room is built as an arch going up about eleven feet high beyond which is an alcove, used as dining room.  These two areas are separated by large sliding-doors, intended to keep the two places “warm”.  At the other end of the house is a series of small bedrooms, rather like stalls, and over them is a loft where Michael, the older boy, has a workshop.  The whole makes a very artistic and uncomfortable house.  Keating says he was greatly influenced by his boyhood and wanted a place that would remind him of the farmhouse he was bought up in.  For my part I believe the farmhouses are warmer.  We talked of course, but I can’t reproduce the conversation.  Mainly, he said he had been much impressed with New York, wanted to go back, but would hate to live there.  Most Irish say the same thing, they put down their own country - unhealthy, poverty-stricken, priest-ridden and jubile [?] - wish they could get away and start life over and then, after a bit thank God they live in Ireland where people have principles, morals and personalities.  They are like Americans who say they like to visit New York, but would hate to live there. 

Keating’s older boy is very keen on airplanes.  He went to Montessori School and the teacher there recognized his talents and gave him lots of tools to play with.  Now he reads nothing but engineering journals and wants to go to the states for his education.  Keating is now the head of the school of art and he gets plenty of art conmissions so I take it they are doing fairly well.  He wears the same black beard so he can paint religious pictures without models, say the cynics.  At any rate, Christ in Keating’s works does resemble Keating, an Irish-Christus with a Celtic twinkle in the eyes.

            The other night I went to the Abbey[29] with a chap in the government you don’t know and Watts, our Press Attaché.  This must have been the third time I’d seen “Juno and the Paycock” but I never enjoyed it more.  In a way O’Casey and yourself are similar in what you try to do - that is, you both cut out every unnecessary word - as I sat in the second row it was possible to hear the actors distinctly and that was what impressed me.  Every line had a meaning, a purpose. 

- The idealization of Irish motherhood, Juno (Eileen Crove, now) and the wonderful resiliency and stability with which she meets every new situation.

- The Paycock (F.J.McCormick) and his complete fecklessness, the man of parts whose talents have been frustrated by fate, a sordid Irish Micawber without the latter’s saving graces.

- Joxer, the parasitic fair-weather friend; the labor man who prates of humanity until he is called upon to be human and the marvellous scene where the girl, going to have an illegitimate child, reads him the poetry he wrote before he turns his back on her; and so on as you know. 

The government man said he was afraid that the playing of Juno in the USA would give people a wrong impression of the Irish and that is quite likely.  People here recognize and enjoy the characters realizing that while they may exist they are only a part of the scene.  One does generalize more readily if one lacks knowledge.

            Had lunch today with the consul and some friends of his including the pastor of the Unitarian Church who is a very pleasant, amusing fellow.  For Willem’s benefit I will repeat a story he told. 

A friend of his, a typewriter salesman, was out in Turkey trying to persuade the modernizing Ataturk to buy this brand of typewriter.  The salesman went to a tremendous amount of trouble getting Turkish type made and putting on the necessary gadgets to type in Turkish.  One day Ataturk called the salesman in and said:

“I am very sorry to have to inform you that the German representative has produce a superior typewriter, one that has fewer parts and consequently will not be so likely to break down, and I have about decided to buy his make.  Don’t be downcast, perhaps you will have your day another time.  At any rate come and have lunch with me tomorrow and we’ll talk it over.” 

So the salesman left the palace and went for a drink to the hotel to drown his disappointment.  There he met Ataturk’s old retired eunuch who had let a most successful career and had so endeared himself to the dictator.  They talked and drank and gradually a thought came to the salesman.  The next day at lunch Ataturk mentioned the typewriter:

“I have now decided to buy the German brand.  They have fewer parts and the cost of upkeep and the greater efficiency make think they will be better.” 

The salesman replied: “Yesterday I met Mohamet, your old eunuch.  He was very pleasant and as you know, your highness, he has fewer parts.  But you would certainly not consider him more efficient on that account.”

“You have made a point,” said Ataturk and he ordered the English machines.

Yesterday, I visited Maurice Collins’ brother at his house.  He lives on the Kingstown road facing the bay with his two daughters and son who is back from Enniskillen for a few days.  I am not clear about the husbands of the girls who weren’t present but one, I know, is in the British Army. 

We talked about “conditions”.  Mr. Collins then produced a volume of clipping from a Waterford newspaper to which he has contributed a weekly article for a year.  One of the articles made a point that the British kingship was an institution that deprived its holder of all personality, will, and emotion.  No one with a grain of initiative would take the job or, if he did, could hold it - Edward. 

This effort apparently found its way to England and was seriously replied to in the London Times, a fact that gave the author great cachet among his friends. 

Another article undertook to demonstrate that Columbus must have visited Waterford on his way to America because of a lot of circumstantial evidence very ingeniously interpreted.  The remarkable thing was the style of writing which showed great humorous ability.  These civil servants turn out to have all kinds of hidden genius.  One of them writes a daily column in the Irish Times under the name Myles Na Copoleen in which he pokes fun at the customs, speech and manners of our times in both English and Irish. 

In fact since John Healy’s death the Irish Times has become quite a different paper, pro-neutral, nationalistic and otherwise sitting on the fence in a manner that makes me wonder sometimes whether they know what they stand for at all.  Neutrality has an extraordinary hold on people, all kinds of people you’d have thought would be out in force against the Axis.  There is a strong feeling that the entry of the country into the war would precipitate more internal troubles but that is an opinion on which I shall not comment.

I saw Harrie and Billy on Saturday  when out at Sutton for lunch, little Brigid Crichton was there along with Charles, Billy’s brother.  When I arrived I found Charles dozing in his chair, wearing Billy’s coat and vest of grey-green, a rather soiled blue collar and a lovely green-red bow tie.  It seems Harrie was painting his portrait and he had to don his costume in order to make a good color composition.  I admired the finished product greatly and promised to bring back some paints from London if I could get any.  You may be called upon to send some over soon so be prepared.

They were all delighted with the way the North African campaign is going as indeed we all are.  The big question was, what will Hitler do now? Harrie is very keen about postwar development and she got Billy to be president of the Irish branch of Union-Now, a movement that apparently died aborning.  Billy told me about their first meeting at which a heckler got up to do his stuff and so annoyed Billy that he shouted “sit down!” and the man did, and that ended the opposition.

Had lunch in the Common Room at Trinity with Willem’s pals, Broderick, Rowe and McConnell. [30] Someone at the table was holding forth on the similarity between the German and the Jewish ideas of their respective messianic callings and one of us remarked that the only difference was that God has chosen the Jews.  They are all coming up to a sherry party I am giving Friday, Nov. 20^th.  In this manner I “liquidate” my social obligations.

On Saturday the consul goes to London and I expect to go about the same time.  I am looking forward to seeing Alfie and your commander.  I’ll take over the photos for his information.  Among others I run into at the club is His Grace, the Primate.  He reports that Maggie and her two children and Barbara and one child are doing very well.  “Gink” Purcell just dropped into my room and asked to be remembered to you.  He is full of admiration for our five offspring.  He has one of three.  He had another of 10 months but it died of whooping cough, poor thing.

Love to you all,  Spike

P.S.   It is doubtful I’ll be able to send any Xmas presents.  Please do the necessary for me and buy yourself the things you always hoped I’d get.  Deduct expenses from the next remittance.   S.

Dublin to HvS Washington, Dec. 7, 1942 

UNIVERSITY CLUB,
DUBLIN. 

December 7, 1942

(Letter No. 1 - new order)

Dearest Hilda,

            I can’t imagine what has happened to my letters to you.  While they haven’t been as numerous as they should nevertheless I have sent you communications regularly.  In order that we can check on any deficiencies I shall begin numbering them from now on.

            Today your letter No. 12 arrived but before replying to it I want to mention that your letter No. 4 only came two days ago.  That was the letter in which you diagrammed the results of the intelligence tests I took and mentioned Olga’s introduction to the Old Testament, etc.  Apparently the Irish censor was very much interested because he held up the letter for a long time for one purpose or another.  A good thing you don’t go through him any more.

            When I was in London I called up Hamish Hamilton and found they did not distribute your books but were much interested in publishing them, so I put Viking’s agent, Pollinger, on to them and perhaps something useful will result.

            How enterprising of you to have taken in p.g.’s[31] or at least to have taken steps in that direction.  I wish it could have been avoided but in a way you are contributing to the solution of Washington’s awful housing problem and after this war is over I hope it won’t be necessary any more.  By the way, a Mr. Barry of the Columbia Broadcasting System in the Earle Building once said to me when I was broadcasting on civil service over that station that he would like to meet you and discuss with you the possibility of your broadcasting children’s stories of your own.  If you don’t like to write him directly I suggest you call Eric Sevareid and ask him to arrange an interview.  Have you seen Eric lately, incidentally?

            By the time you get this letter you will probably have seen Mr. Shepardson whom I talked with in London.  He will be able to tell you that my health is good, my disposition even, and in every other way progressing at a steady if slow pace.

I had a present for you which I wanted to send but by a sudden order which removed my messenger it remains in my possession.  The rosary you asked for will be delivered and also the message to Bridy.[32]

            As to the books I got two sets – Kersti and the three Irish ones – since I came here but no sign of Andries.  If there is no other way of sending them please ask B. to put them in the pouch because they have a very positive value to my mission.[33]  You will understand I can’t go into details and that makes my letters very unsatisfactory, I realize, but you’ll have to wait for the end of the war.

            The other day I stopped in at the stained glass works on Pembroke Street to see Evie Hone’s windows for Clongowes College.  They were very unusual, as you might expect, and will undoubtedly adorn the place they rest.  As it was they had to be stood up by the artisan who works there and I couldn’t get a proper view of them.

She has one long window consisting of three pieces of the crucifixion that is very striking.  The backgroud is a greyish glass over which she has drawn the Christ figure in charcoal streaks rather like Rouault’s work in style – very gaunt.  Nano Reid has an exhibition up in the Stephen’s Green Gallery which doesn’t strike me as very good.  You know the kind of thing – a few streaks of water-color meant to be very suggestive and modern.  Granting it is different – not altogether – I still don’t care for it.

            Last night I attended a presentation performance of Lennox Robinson’s “Church Street” and “The Clancy Name”, his first play.  Between the two plays the stage was disclosed with all the directors on the platform.  Maureen Delany, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson and a few of the actors.  Ernest Blythe made a speech, presenting Robinson with a portrait of himself, followed by Maureen and the oldest hand in the theatre, and then Lennox came forward wringing his hands and swaying as though he had had too much to drink, which was probably the [case] …[34]

WWII AND EARLY POSTWAR LETTERS,
SPIKE AND HILDA, 1942-1946

 Spike Marlin served in the Office of Strategic Services in World War II, based in Dublin and Ireland. These letters provide an informal record of his time there. They may be matched against the formal record in, for example, the introduction to “An American Spy in Ireland.” These letters have been transcribed and annotated by John Tepper Marlin.

Spike in Dublin to HvS Washington - prob. Dec. 1942

[Spike had just been in London; Fragment, Univ. Club stationery.]  

… or in public places.  Watts, the Press Attache in Dublin, was in London at the same time as myself and we visited a famous old pub now a rendezvous for the services.  The spirit of these men, just off of duty from conveying ships across the ocean in little corvettes, or back from air raids, was remarkably high.  If our politicians can fraternize as successfully as our soldiers everything will go well.

The blackout is something to experience.  A flashlight (or torch, as they call it), will save you from thousand traps like hydrants, lamp posts, cellars, holes in the street, etc.  One night, as I came out of the office, a rat scuttled past my feet, not a pleasant sensation either.

The continental people, refugees whom I met, are terribly anxious about their future and London is a center of intrigue for the politicians.  You will have read about the deGaulle – Darlan situation.  It was the talk of London last week.  In the course of my stay I met several well known people and my feeling was that our country has very good representation in England.  You will understand that I can’t go into details.  When I came away I felt there would be a tremendous job to do after the war in organizing and administering poor Europe’s needs, and if I can get into that phase of work later I shall be very happy.  The first step is to learn French properly and this I am going to do forthwith, with Andrew Skeffington as coach.  However, don’t jump to conclusions about this because it is only an idea of mine, not a definite thing at all.  Wouldn’t it be fun to live in London for a few years or Paris or Amsterdam which suggests the desirability of learning Dutch as well.

Alfie and Nieburg asked to be remembered to you and your mother and Willem[1] as did James W. and Harold G.  Also a man named Dr. McCaughey, who was at St. Andrews with Willem, sends his kindest regards to Willem.  He remembers Willem best as the boy who coached him in maths during the classes at St. Andrews.

Your letters 10 and 11 arrived today.  Please tell the office not to use official envelopes – they insist on placing your letters inside them – just plain envelopes would be much better for reasons they should know.[2]  Quite agree with all you’ve done about Bridie[3] and the guests, etc.  Things will not be easy for you I’m afraid but the only thing I can think of doing won’t help – that is, come back.  So keep the home fires burning if you can find any wood and don’t forget I love you very much and long for the day I return to home, wife and children.

Love to you all and a Happy Christmas.   Spike.

Spike in NYC to HvS Washington, Sept. 4, 1942

The Airport, New York[4]

Dearest,

It seems we still have a few minutes before we leave so here is a note to say goodbye again.

Tell Olga I shall expect her to brush her teeth regularly as an example to Brigid and Randal.  Brigid ought to be more helpful, Randal less quarrelsome, Sheila drier and John Anthony is perfect.  Kiss them all for me and tell them not to forget their daddy who loves them dearly.

Saw my parents[5] and they were very excited I was going to “England.”[6]  Also saw Tim Dowling and Mrs. D. last night, Tim is going to Wash. soon and promised to see you to tell of my last night in U.S.  Ask him to dinner, won’t you?  He is really quite charming in his own Irish way.

Enclosed is a receipt of my ticket.  In case anything should happen on the way, which is most unlikely, you ought to keep this and turn it over to a lawyer who will collect a price for my head from the American Export Lines.  Horrible, but it makes me feel better to know you won’t be penniless.

Well, a more cheerful countenance and I’ll cable you directly on arrival.

A thousand hugs and kisses from your ever devoted husband, 

            Spike xxxxxxxxx.

Spike in Dublin to HvS Washington, Sept. 25, 1942[7]

Legation of the United States of America Standard Hotel [Dublin] 
 

 [Mrs. Hilda van Stockum Marlin

3728 Northampton St.

Washington, DC]

Dearest Hilda,

I should have written before but without any word from you thus far the compelling force of an unanswered letter has been lacking.  Have you sent any letters to Tom[8] for transmittal?  Unless you send them that way it will take years to get here. The diplomatic pouch, I am told, takes only a week.

By now I have pretty much settled down.  The Standard Hotel is a rather cheerless place, however, & I intend to move as soon a I find a better ‘ole.  Flats in Dublin are practically unobtainable so the best alternative seems to be the Dublin University Club which is very central– on Stephen’s Green.  The only drawback is the subscription–10 guineas a year– but perhaps that will be permitted as an extraordinary expense, justified by the valuable “contacts” resulting fr om such membership.  Actually, the place is a rendezvous for many of the people we/I used to know–David Mitchell, Nigel Kinnear, Harold Douglas & other professional and business people who have frish-hand experience with the “passing parade”.

Last weekend I spent with Harry[9] and Billy at Sutton.  Two nieces were there–Brigid Crichton and Phoebe Kirkwood.[10]  Brigid is now a handsome, intelligent girl of 13, going to school in Dublin.  Phoebe is Billy’s brother Charles’ daughter and she expects to enter Trinity[11] this autum.  Harry spent most of Saturday and Sunday painting.  She seemed to think my comment on her work was good.  I said I liked two still-lifes she had done. About her portraits I said nothing and she probably felt my lack of enthusiasm but did not resent it because I believe she feels the same way.  Her work here has not developed at all from what she used to do when we visited them and in a way I think it is proof of the sterility of the French School that instead of getting more profound in their understanding their followers get more and more superficial.  I think you said that the great contribution of this school was their bold use of color but by itself color has no significance at all.  Anyway Harry decided to send in the still-life to the Dublin painters show and I am going to see the opening of it and have tea afterward at Nora McGuinness’ with the artists, many of whom you will know, undoubtedly.  What a pity you can’t be here too.

Did I tell you I saw John and Joan[12] and their children?  John is very much interested in a new political party which has social and economic objectives instead of the old political ones, a healthy sign.  Unfortunately, I can’t agree with many of the things they want to do because they have no relation to the laws of nature–geographic, human or climatic.

One night at the Palace Bar where I went to introduce Mr. Watts, our Press Attaché, to Bertie Smyllie of the Irish Times I ran into the husband of Mr. Lerrin’s daughter─Alfred Duff is his name—he plays the organ at a Protestant church in Kingstown[13] and arranges music for Radio Eireann.   I told him about his stranged wife and his daughter. He was glad to get news of them.  Also met M. J. McManus, editor of the Irish Press, who says he used to know you at Madame Cogley’s.  Everyone has been exceedingly nice, and I haven’t had a dinner at my hotel for two weeks.  Nevertheless, the separation from you all is beginning to make itself felt and it will help a great deal if you will write often and send snaps occasionally.  Tell the children I miss them very much and they must be especially good as their contribution to the war.[14]

If you run into Mr. or Mrs. Collins will you say I saw Mr. Collins’ brother and have a very nice lunch with him at the Gresham. He was very helpful to me, introducing me to people in the government and getting books I need.  He has a very important job here and is apparently extremely well regarded so the brothers are carrying out a similar record in both countries.  I’ll write Maurice[15] one day about it.

There is a great shortage of fuel in the country and my fingers are numb as I push the pen along the paper.  I suppose exposure will get me acclimatized but meanwhile suffering is endure.  So far as I have seen, the food situation appears tolerable.  Bread is made from whole wheat and in one of the Dail[16] debates, which I am reading, a T.D.[17] wrote of a poor woman who set before her husband a sod of turf to eat and put the bread in the fire by mistake.  The bread has upset my tummy but recovery has set in.  Food prices are high and they seem to be getting higher.  Butter and milk and bread all going up.  What the poor will do goodness only knows.  Money flows plentifully in the country among those who are selling cattle at high prices and in other ways making a good thing out of the war scarcity.  Also many people have gone over to England to jobs paying very high wages and part of this money is being sent back.  Nevertheless, as an American correspondent who was here wrote, this country has more food and better than any other in Europe and he probably was right.

Did I tell you I saw Pic[18] in Grafton St.?  Talked with her for only a minute and got the impression she had become exceedingly schoolmistressy.

So far I haven’t had a chance to meet Evie H,[19] but expect to do so soon. Harry says she is the only one in Dublin really doing good work, and I think he has a great admiration for her.  Also father C[20] has not had any word from me but I shall do them both before long.  Brigid O’Brien has gone into hiding since the Consul entertained us but today I am meeting her brother-in-law who knows all about cattle and that is my present passion. Among other names of people I’ve seen are Whalker and Nus Starkie—his mother asked after you and your mother.  Mr. and Mrs. Goor who also inquired, John Beaumont and Auchinerty.  Tell Willem[21] I met McConnell and bought him two drinks.  The others will come soon.

Now, goodbye for the present.   xxxxxxx   Spike

Spike in Dublin to HvS Washington, October 18, 1942 

University Club
Dublin
 

[Mrs. Hilda van Stockum Marlin

3728 Northampton St.

Washington, DC]

Dearest Hilda,

The Dublin climate is having effect on me as you can see from my not having written you for so long. Even now, however, I have had no word from you to inspire a reply. Whatever has happened to the mail service!

Since my last letter I saw Mrs. Morley and collected Jan’s desk,[22] on which I am now writing, and two trunks full of Wendepunkts[23] and Just Havelaar’s magazine.[24]  I threw the W[endepunkt]’s away and if you say the word I’ll dish [ditch?] the others.  The albums are safe but with your permission I would like to give away or sell the rest of the books of no value to us.  You can trust me not to dispose of anything valuable [!] although I must say I saw little of that.  All personal things I shall keep of course.  Mrs. Morley was very nice and asked to be remembered to you and je moeder.[25]

Then I called on May[26] and had a very pleasant reunion with her and [her sister] Bridy.  They gave me tea and talked very nicely about you as you might expect. May sent her very best.  She looks quite well although with her mother gone she has the whole family to look after and she works harder than she really ought considering her physical limitations.  About her mother’s passing she said “It is well she has gone, with the rationing and the high prices and the little money we have she would have been too worried.  Thank God she doesn’t have to live through these times.”  Very Catholic, don’t you think? I left them some money and asked them to have Michael[27] get in touch with me which he did.  It seems Michael has become a marvellous cabinetmaker and a table he did is in the National Museum.  I asked him to do one for us as a memento and he was delighted with the idea.  He goes in for Celtic design on furniture and expect he will turn out something really beautiful.  Of course I talked with him about the general state of affairs and good Catholic that he is, you would have found it hard to distinguish his viewpoint from that of Monsignor Smyth or any of the others. But I talked with him and think made an impression for our side.  I like Michael very much–absolutely honest and sincere, a religious man if I ever saw one.  He had many nice things to say about you, in fact there are an extraordinary number of people who feel the same way over here so I won’t wonder if you get homesick.

Did I tell you I saw little Mr. Murray?  I am going out to his lodge one day soon. Speaking of Murray reminds me that yersterday I was taking four of your books that Viking sent me to a friend when I ran into young Nolan of Browne & N.[28] on the street.  He wanted to see what I have and after a brief glance at them he grabbed my arm and rushed me down Nassau St. to his office.  Before I had left he was dispatching a wire to Hamish Hamilton, Viking’s London agent, for 100 copies of each of your books.  I doubt there will be that many and it isn’t likely space will be available on ships for any large quantities to be sent over.  I wonder would it be possible for Viking to give Br[own] & N.[olan] the Irish rights to publish the three Irish books.  At any rate your work has had no entrance into the country and now it may at last get some appreciation over here.

            I went out to Evie Hone’s yesterday for tea. Earlier I had had lunch with some friends in Dundrum & was going back to town to get a Rathfarnam bus back when from the top of my bus I saw Evie and her maid riding in the opposite direction in a pony trap (enclosed are pictures of it).   I lepped [sic] out, quick as a hare, & caught them up and rode with them in the trap to her house.  Going up hill I got out & pushed because the pony is about 20 years old–so Evie says–& needs help on the ups.  At Evie’s I saw Curtis again, Joe Hone and your picture of Father Colquhoun which I liked ever so much.  She has had it framed nicely behind glass and it looks perfectly beautiful.

Evie was much friendlier, or should I say, talkative this time and we got along quite well on matters artistic and personal–another of your admirers!  She is going to write you soon & wants me to take back a bit of a glass window when the time comes.

On Tuesday I went to Miss Purser’s usual at home. The old lady is now 94!  She had met me in Fitzwilliam place with Harry Kirkwood & some others after the Dublin Painters Show and asked me over to her house.  But when I arrived she looked at me curiously & said “Who are you?”  Apparently she doesn’t remember people any more because after my shock at being asked who I was, I found she says the same to other people.

I went to John Dowling to see about a tooth and he said characteristically that dentistry was a “cod” the more you fill them the weaker they get, the weaker they are the sooner they have to come out; if you get a bridge it weakens the teeth on which the bridge rest & so you pull out those teeth as well.  “You might as well have all your teeth out now,” says John, “& put in plates.”  I left him hastily.  How does he make a living?

My circle of contacts grows wider and I am meeting a lot of people I usen’t to know–economists, agricultural experts, politicians & the like.  My arrival was announced in the papers and they mentioned my having worked for Social Security & Farm Credit and so I have been asked to lecture a union on the subject.

Enclosed some snaps taken at the McDonald’s.  The little boy is Olive’s.  He is six–his name is Michael Frederick Howard Craig-Cooper! Lovely little fellow.  How are mine? You had better start taking some new snaps for me soon.

Love  xxx  Spike

Spike in Dublin to HvS Washington, November 15, 1942 

UNIVERSITY CLUB
DUBLIN 

Dearest Hilda,

Number 7 and 8 arrived but still no No. 4.  I am afraid that one is at the bottom or it may have been on the clipper that crashed in Newfoundland.  I’ve got some magazines from the wreck that were watersoaked.

You have my deepest sympathy in the matter of living costs and I only wish it were possible for me to do something about the situation.  When sending me any of the things I have asked for be sure to deduct the cost of them from money you send me, and in making out our income tax it is my impression that whatever I get for living over here is not to be added in as a part of our income.  If things get too difficult let me know.

The pictures of the children are lovely and it gave me great pleasure to see them, and the Valentines were beautiful too.  Please convey my appreciation to Olga and Brigid for them.

As for the pictures you did of the Conners, I intend to visit them as soon as I get a car and gasoline to drive it, in fact I hope to be able to make some photographs of the paintings for you.

Today is quite cold again and the small script reflects the difficulty of moving my fingers across the page.  The trouble with cold weather in Ireland is that it never gets cold enough long enough to induce people to take measures against the weather.  Instead they all crouch around a fire and drink whiskey until the cold passes away and then they just drink whiskey.  You may take it that I have been doing my best to keep warm.

Last night I went out to the Keatings for dinner.  Keating has build himself a house of his own design, a most unusual house to say the least.  He has a kind of studio living room in which the ceiling es the underside of the roof with rafter exposed, rather like the pech’s old house.  This style, you may recall, is peculiarly suited to maintaining a room at near zero temperature and to provide heat there si turf-fire at the side.  The other side or end of the room is built as an arch going up about eleven feet high beyond which is an alcove, used as dining room.  These two areas are separated by large sliding-doors, intended to keep the two places “warm”.  At the other end of the house is a series of small bedrooms, rather like stalls, and over them is a loft where Michael, the older boy, has a workshop.  The whole makes a very artistic and uncomfortable house.  Keating says he was greatly influenced by his boyhood and wanted a place that would remind him of the farmhouse he was bought up in.  For my part I believe the farmhouses are warmer.  We talked of course, but I can’t reproduce the conversation.  Mainly, he said he had been much impressed with New York, wanted to go back, but would hate to live there.  Most Irish say the same thing, they put down their own country - unhealthy, poverty-stricken, priest-ridden and jubile [?] - wish they could get away and start life over and then, after a bit thank God they live in Ireland where people have principles, morals and personalities.  They are like Americans who say they like to visit New York, but would hate to live there. 

Keating’s older boy is very keen on airplanes.  He went to Montessori School and the teacher there recognized his talents and gave him lots of tools to play with.  Now he reads nothing but engineering journals and wants to go to the states for his education.  Keating is now the head of the school of art and he gets plenty of art conmissions so I take it they are doing fairly well.  He wears the same black beard so he can paint religious pictures without models, say the cynics.  At any rate, Christ in Keating’s works does resemble Keating, an Irish-Christus with a Celtic twinkle in the eyes.

            The other night I went to the Abbey[29] with a chap in the government you don’t know and Watts, our Press Attaché.  This must have been the third time I’d seen “Juno and the Paycock” but I never enjoyed it more.  In a way O’Casey and yourself are similar in what you try to do - that is, you both cut out every unnecessary word - as I sat in the second row it was possible to hear the actors distinctly and that was what impressed me.  Every line had a meaning, a purpose. 

- The idealization of Irish motherhood, Juno (Eileen Crove, now) and the wonderful resiliency and stability with which she meets every new situation.

- The Paycock (F.J.McCormick) and his complete fecklessness, the man of parts whose talents have been frustrated by fate, a sordid Irish Micawber without the latter’s saving graces.

- Joxer, the parasitic fair-weather friend; the labor man who prates of humanity until he is called upon to be human and the marvellous scene where the girl, going to have an illegitimate child, reads him the poetry he wrote before he turns his back on her; and so on as you know. 

The government man said he was afraid that the playing of Juno in the USA would give people a wrong impression of the Irish and that is quite likely.  People here recognize and enjoy the characters realizing that while they may exist they are only a part of the scene.  One does generalize more readily if one lacks knowledge.

            Had lunch today with the consul and some friends of his including the pastor of the Unitarian Church who is a very pleasant, amusing fellow.  For Willem’s benefit I will repeat a story he told. 

A friend of his, a typewriter salesman, was out in Turkey trying to persuade the modernizing Ataturk to buy this brand of typewriter.  The salesman went to a tremendous amount of trouble getting Turkish type made and putting on the necessary gadgets to type in Turkish.  One day Ataturk called the salesman in and said:

“I am very sorry to have to inform you that the German representative has produce a superior typewriter, one that has fewer parts and consequently will not be so likely to break down, and I have about decided to buy his make.  Don’t be downcast, perhaps you will have your day another time.  At any rate come and have lunch with me tomorrow and we’ll talk it over.” 

So the salesman left the palace and went for a drink to the hotel to drown his disappointment.  There he met Ataturk’s old retired eunuch who had let a most successful career and had so endeared himself to the dictator.  They talked and drank and gradually a thought came to the salesman.  The next day at lunch Ataturk mentioned the typewriter:

“I have now decided to buy the German brand.  They have fewer parts and the cost of upkeep and the greater efficiency make think they will be better.” 

The salesman replied: “Yesterday I met Mohamet, your old eunuch.  He was very pleasant and as you know, your highness, he has fewer parts.  But you would certainly not consider him more efficient on that account.”

“You have made a point,” said Ataturk and he ordered the English machines.

Yesterday, I visited Maurice Collins’ brother at his house.  He lives on the Kingstown road facing the bay with his two daughters and son who is back from Enniskillen for a few days.  I am not clear about the husbands of the girls who weren’t present but one, I know, is in the British Army. 

We talked about “conditions”.  Mr. Collins then produced a volume of clipping from a Waterford newspaper to which he has contributed a weekly article for a year.  One of the articles made a point that the British kingship was an institution that deprived its holder of all personality, will, and emotion.  No one with a grain of initiative would take the job or, if he did, could hold it - Edward. 

This effort apparently found its way to England and was seriously replied to in the London Times, a fact that gave the author great cachet among his friends. 

Another article undertook to demonstrate that Columbus must have visited Waterford on his way to America because of a lot of circumstantial evidence very ingeniously interpreted.  The remarkable thing was the style of writing which showed great humorous ability.  These civil servants turn out to have all kinds of hidden genius.  One of them writes a daily column in the Irish Times under the name Myles Na Copoleen in which he pokes fun at the customs, speech and manners of our times in both English and Irish. 

In fact since John Healy’s death the Irish Times has become quite a different paper, pro-neutral, nationalistic and otherwise sitting on the fence in a manner that makes me wonder sometimes whether they know what they stand for at all.  Neutrality has an extraordinary hold on people, all kinds of people you’d have thought would be out in force against the Axis.  There is a strong feeling that the entry of the country into the war would precipitate more internal troubles but that is an opinion on which I shall not comment.

I saw Harrie and Billy on Saturday  when out at Sutton for lunch, little Brigid Crichton was there along with Charles, Billy’s brother.  When I arrived I found Charles dozing in his chair, wearing Billy’s coat and vest of grey-green, a rather soiled blue collar and a lovely green-red bow tie.  It seems Harrie was painting his portrait and he had to don his costume in order to make a good color composition.  I admired the finished product greatly and promised to bring back some paints from London if I could get any.  You may be called upon to send some over soon so be prepared.

They were all delighted with the way the North African campaign is going as indeed we all are.  The big question was, what will Hitler do now? Harrie is very keen about postwar development and she got Billy to be president of the Irish branch of Union-Now, a movement that apparently died aborning.  Billy told me about their first meeting at which a heckler got up to do his stuff and so annoyed Billy that he shouted “sit down!” and the man did, and that ended the opposition.

Had lunch in the Common Room at Trinity with Willem’s pals, Broderick, Rowe and McConnell. [30] Someone at the table was holding forth on the similarity between the German and the Jewish ideas of their respective messianic callings and one of us remarked that the only difference was that God has chosen the Jews.  They are all coming up to a sherry party I am giving Friday, Nov. 20^th.  In this manner I “liquidate” my social obligations.

On Saturday the consul goes to London and I expect to go about the same time.  I am looking forward to seeing Alfie and your commander.  I’ll take over the photos for his information.  Among others I run into at the club is His Grace, the Primate.  He reports that Maggie and her two children and Barbara and one child are doing very well.  “Gink” Purcell just dropped into my room and asked to be remembered to you.  He is full of admiration for our five offspring.  He has one of three.  He had another of 10 months but it died of whooping cough, poor thing.

Love to you all,  Spike

P.S.   It is doubtful I’ll be able to send any Xmas presents.  Please do the necessary for me and buy yourself the things you always hoped I’d get.  Deduct expenses from the next remittance.   S.

Spike in Dublin to HvS Washington, Dec. 7, 1942 

UNIVERSITY CLUB,
DUBLIN. 

December 7, 1942

(Letter No. 1 - new order)

Dearest Hilda,

            I can’t imagine what has happened to my letters to you.  While they haven’t been as numerous as they should nevertheless I have sent you communications regularly.  In order that we can check on any deficiencies I shall begin numbering them from now on.

            Today your letter No. 12 arrived but before replying to it I want to mention that your letter No. 4 only came two days ago.  That was the letter in which you diagrammed the results of the intelligence tests I took and mentioned Olga’s introduction to the Old Testament, etc.  Apparently the Irish censor was very much interested because he held up the letter for a long time for one purpose or another.  A good thing you don’t go through him any more.

            When I was in London I called up Hamish Hamilton and found they did not distribute your books but were much interested in publishing them, so I put Viking’s agent, Pollinger, on to them and perhaps something useful will result.

            How enterprising of you to have taken in p.g.’s[31] or at least to have taken steps in that direction.  I wish it could have been avoided but in a way you are contributing to the solution of Washington’s awful housing problem and after this war is over I hope it won’t be necessary any more.  By the way, a Mr. Barry of the Columbia Broadcasting System in the Earle Building once said to me when I was broadcasting on civil service over that station that he would like to meet you and discuss with you the possibility of your broadcasting children’s stories of your own.  If you don’t like to write him directly I suggest you call Eric Sevareid and ask him to arrange an interview.  Have you seen Eric lately, incidentally?

            By the time you get this letter you will probably have seen Mr. Shepardson whom I talked with in London.  He will be able to tell you that my health is good, my disposition even, and in every other way progressing at a steady if slow pace.

I had a present for you which I wanted to send but by a sudden order which removed my messenger it remains in my possession.  The rosary you asked for will be delivered and also the message to Bridy.[32]

            As to the books I got two sets – Kersti and the three Irish ones – since I came here but no sign of Andries.  If there is no other way of sending them please ask B. to put them in the pouch because they have a very positive value to my mission.[33]  You will understand I can’t go into details and that makes my letters very unsatisfactory, I realize, but you’ll have to wait for the end of the war.

            The other day I stopped in at the stained glass works on Pembroke Street to see Evie Hone’s windows for Clongowes College.  They were very unusual, as you might expect, and will undoubtedly adorn the place they rest.  As it was they had to be stood up by the artisan who works there and I couldn’t get a proper view of them.

She has one long window consisting of three pieces of the crucifixion that is very striking.  The backgroud is a greyish glass over which she has drawn the Christ figure in charcoal streaks rather like Rouault’s work in style – very gaunt.  Nano Reid has an exhibition up in the Stephen’s Green Gallery which doesn’t strike me as very good.  You know the kind of thing – a few streaks of water-color meant to be very suggestive and modern.  Granting it is different – not altogether – I still don’t care for it.

            Last night I attended a presentation performance of Lennox Robinson’s “Church Street” and “The Clancy Name”, his first play.  Between the two plays the stage was disclosed with all the directors on the platform.  Maureen Delany, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson and a few of the actors.  Ernest Blythe made a speech, presenting Robinson with a portrait of himself, followed by Maureen and the oldest hand in the theatre, and then Lennox came forward wringing his hands and swaying as though he had had too much to drink, which was probably the [case] …[34]

[Spike] 

Dublin to HvS Washington, February 2, 1943

 UNIVERSITY CLUB,
DUBLIN.

February 2, 1943

Dearest Hilda,

            Your letter No. 15 arrived to my great pleasure.  I always love to hear of the exploits of my offspring and, in particular, of the youngest [Johnny]—as you know, I love them most before they are three, or is it five?  You were very right about writing the children and I shall enclose notes to each of them.  Also you ought to have more letters from me than you get but it is my impression that I answer every letter you send.

            Unfortunately, I learn that Whitney isn’t coming back so I won’t hear from him what you all look like, something I had been looking forward to.  Although I am not “in” the war this separation could not be much worse.  You can imagine the apathetic atmosphere that prevails here from what we went through [in the United States, i.e., the isolationist spirit] before Pearl Harbor [i.e., before Dec. 7, 1941], except that here no one argues the cause of belligerency or even of the priciples for which the Allies stand.  Very depressing.  This attitude affects even those whom we used to think of as our friends– Christo [Gore-Grimes], Skinny, Boney [Jackson], everybody almost, since those who feel otherwise have gone to join up.  The reasons given for this view are as varied as they are numerous but it all boils down to “let George do it”, the same [isolationist] attitude so many of our people had at home.

            Last week I went out to Athlone and Carrick-on-Shannon in my car – a tiny Ford that would fit into our car without much difficulty – and visited with some friends.  At Carrick I drove around to see Charles Kirkwood, the brother of Billy.  As I drove up, the maid told me he had just left for Dublin, so I rushed around to the station and just arrived in time to pull him off the train, luggage and all, and we drove down to Dublin together which made the trip much pleasanter for me.  Charles still wears that marvellous tweed suit you probably remember, made out of horseblanket material, and carries it off very well as long as he has a stock of drawings under his arm or a pallet, as he usually does.

            The pictures you sent me of yourself were very welcome.  You may be sure I shall use to good advantage the one with the priest and yourself holding hands in front of Catholic University!  The pictures of yourself and the children show you a little tired.  You are probably working much too hard but for the life of me I don’t know what to do about it except hope things will ease up for you and us soon.

            Last night I had dinner with Harry and Billy [Kirkwood], Eric and Monica [Porter], and Ned and Mrs. Ned Maguire.  They – the Porters and Maguires – wanted me to remember them to you and your mother and everyone was thrilled to hear that Willem would be coming over soon.  Please have him let us know when he arrives and what his address will be.  Unless a special arrangement with the British can be made he won’t be allowed into Eire [the Irish Republic] so tell him to get in touch with me directly he arrives.  Also have him take a set of civilian clothes because uniforms of belligerents are banned here, of course.  Eric, by the way, is a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, stationed near Belfast.  His job is to fish up and explode mines and he is in charge of a long stretch of coast up in the North.  Apparently he and Monica have been having lots of good times with our people in the North and get along very well with them.   Eric’s views on life and the relations between men and officers seems to have suffered a shock.  It appears our men do not draw any sharp lines in talking with officers and one of them accosted Eric in a bar and quite easily entered into a conversation.  After his surprised at being addressed socially by our man he found, to his astonishment, that the man was quite well educated and very interesting so they got along quite well and bought each other many drinks.  Eric has written a scenario for a motion picture based on the life of Goya and now he is working on a novel of the same subject.  I hadn’t a chance to read the scenario but believe it to be quite good.  Of course, if Hollywood decides to take it he will be on the pig’s back.  He and Monica expect to go to the US after the war.  Amazing how many people over here want to go to the States after it is all over.  They have the feeling that the old world they knew is breaking up and America still offers promise and hope to young people.

            Joe Hone and Mrs. Hone asked after you yesterday and sent their best.  Poo  r Joe has to work hard to keep his son’s family going.  The boy hasn’t done very well for himself and his marriage didn’t turn out to be a howling success, either, so papa has to support them by writing biographies. …[35]

[Spike]

Washington to Spike in London, June 27, 1943

 Hilda Marlin
3728 Northampton Street, NW

Washington 15, D.C.

June 27, 1943

Mr. Ervin R. Marlin
American Embassy
London, England

Seventh V letter.[36] 

Dear Husband:

We are having an unprecedented heat wave, already 14 days over 90º.  We are all sleeping on the porches, except Brigid and Sheila.  Randal and Brigid have been to the wading  pool in Chevy Chase playground and are very sunburnt.  Poor John Anthony suffers a lot but he is kept happy with the hose in the front porch and mother sits by the electric fan all day and goes to an aircooled movie if it’s too bad, but Birdie and I are carrying on.

I’m sitting in the top porch all day drawing and then it’s nice and cool when  I come down.  I ought to lose weight, but I don’t.  But being in the open air 24 hours is very healthy anyway.  John Anthony sleeps outdoors too, beside me. 

I am very happy about Olga.  She writes beautiful letter which I am sending you by ordinary mail.  Mr. Smith noticed how much easier she was after she knew she was going to camp and it certainly is worth our summer in the city.  Last summer was never out of her mind until camp cropped up.  Since then she has been thinking about camp and I know this summer will wipe last summer completely away, the way a similar summer somewhere else wouldn’t have done.  She gets arts and crafts and other teaching as well as hiking and swimming and sailing.  Her uniform, orange and brown, looks charming on her.

Meanwhile, Brigid is the eldest at home for a while and is beginning to know responsibility.  She is making a novena with me, with as special intention that she may get grace to carry her cross.  Her idea entirely.  

John Anthony walks around with all sort of objects in his mouth.  It’s just like that joke in the circus when 12 people get out of a small car.  You notice he has something in his mouth so first you take out a button.  Then you discover a piece of blotting paper.  You pull that out.  He is still chewing.  You find a cherry pip.  Etc. etc.  He even keeps them in his mouth while eating and takes them out to admire between spoonfuls.  I am contemplating getting some chewing tobacco for him.

Brigid now takes Sheila out, which is very good for both.  Brigid has written you a new fairy story.  She says she is sick of stories about a mother who dies and a stepmother. When she is grown up, she is going to write a story about a father who dies. 

John Anthony has 2 double teeth.  Sheila has been cutting her hair again, as well as Johnny’s.  She gets into more mischief in shorter time than anyone I know but in nursery school they she is exceptionally intelligent as well as babyish.  So that’s a comfort.

Love, Wife  xxxxx

London to HvS Washington, Dec. 7, 1943

London

December 7, 1943

Dearest Darling Wife,

     Today, at last, the spell of separation from home was most delightfully broken by the arrival of your letter of November 16^th with photos enclosed, the parcel of three books, and the family photographs.

     Taking them in order, I liked the snaps of the three children because they were faithful likenesses of our eldest.  Olga looks very well, thank the Lord.  Are her teeth crooked?  If they are, will you please see what the dentist can do about straightening them?  It is now or never and I don’t want her to grow up handicapped.  Brigid also looks sweet and Randal is likeable little gamin. They all have big noses like your husband, I see.

     How is it that Jules is a corporal?  As a doctor he should be a least a lieutenant. Doesn’t he practise medicine any more?  Doctors are in very short supply just now.

     What fun for the children to have uniforms and how American that the manufacturers should have thought of making them for the children.  Such a thing doesn’t exist here.  I would like a picture of them in the uniforms, I must say.  Full length photographs, if Gordon can be persuaded to do it.  Willem would like copies too, I’m sure.

The picture of you bending earnestly over a canvas with a green smock on your lap, sloshing paint-brushes in the turpentine.   Do spread some newspaper on the floor when you slosh so the room won’t go up in flames again![37]  Incidentally, my colleague here, Philip Horton, is married to a painter who lives in Washington, in Georgetown.  They have no children, however.  I have suggested to Horton that you and his wife might get together sometime for a session.  She goes in for landscapes, so you will have different viewpoints on things.  They have a little house in Maine, the place we hope to go every summer when the world return to normal.  She may ring you up or drop you a line one day.  How did your lunch with Nicholas go off, I wonder?  He was over to Dublin with me for a trip last September.

Speaking of lunches, I was at the Netherlands House with a Dutchman the other day when I spied the Consul going out of the door with a man and rushed up to greet him.  We then arranged to meet for dinner the following Monday and I invited him to a very good, Victorian hotel.  There we dined in mahogany splendor, with a bottle of white wine -- the consul can’t drink red wine on account of his bone trouble -- and the best food London can offer.  He enjoyed himself very much and I felt it was only a small return for the many happy dinners he had given us.  We talked about his career and his future, about which he was rather despondent.  It was an evening well spent.

            Well darling, this is enough for now, take care of yourself and the little ones and greet your mother for me.

Love from your devoted husband.

Dublin to HvS Washington, Dec. 19, 1943

  [University Club

Dublin]

[Mrs. Hilda van Stockum Marlin

3728 Northampton St.

Washington, DC]
 

Dearest Hilda:

I just received your letter of November 24 with May’s[38] letter to you enclosed.  She expresses what I feel about Gerrit – that the story has been rather wound about the bright sayings of the children instead of the sayings embellishing and being an essential part of the story.

She really is a wonderful woman to work for, Miss Massee, and her advice very sound.  I hope you will rest your writing side for a while and take up painting again as you seem to have done.  What fun it will be to see your work again after I come back!

I am sorry Gerrit hasn’t been reviewed at all in the big papers, it deserves better treatment than that, after all the pictures in it alone are exceptionally good and the story very charming, true to life, and of interest to children.  People who have read it here, including me, have liked it tremendously.  So don’t worry.

As for Mrs. Collins, it probably was not a good idea to refer to his transfer back to the Budget Bureau, since it probably meant a demotion and a loss of position.  It doesn’t surprise me too much, because Maurice[39] surrounded himself with people of rather inferior quality – people he knew and whom he felt would be loyal to him.  There is a terrible lot of throat-cutting in gov’t which is rather disgusting.

What a job you must have keeping the five in order!  I console myself about the absence of paternal supervision with the thought that they would probably be worse with me around, not better, which is no reason for not being there and trying.  Tell me how the children liked the ballet, also take them to some good music if you can.  I am most anxious for them to play music, as you know.  Lilliam Dalton, who married the Belgian cellist, is now in London with husband and I saw them last night.  He says we ought to put the strong square-fingered children on stringed instruments; the strongest on the cello and the pointed-fingered ones (your fingers) on the piano.  He says start them at eight.  On Tuesday I shall hear him give a concert at the Institute Belgique, he is most amusing and a magnificent musician.  In 1928 he was offered $500⁰⁰ a week to come to America for a permanent job but the immigration quota stopped him.

As to your coming over that will have to be left in the hands of fate. I am aware of the family problem and the awful business of dragging up the children’s roots.  But is it much worse than moving to a different neighborhood—except for the furniture transport & the journey?  We’ll see.  There is no prospect yet of anything definite happening so we needn’t worry.  Enclosed are letters from the Consul.  On Friday morning I go to Sutton. Willem will be there on Wednesday.  I go by Army plane to Belfast & then down by train.  I’ll get this off right away so goodbye & write me more about John and Sheila.

xxx  Spike

Dublin [?] to HvS on Holiday in New York[?], undated, summer 1943?

Wednesday 

Light of my dark existence (pro tempore absentiae tuae)[40] -

Your letter let me breathe easier and if you realize that my respiratory system has been out of gear for five days you can judge what a relief  I am experiencing.  So you arrived safely.  Good!  Nevertheless I know what a long and tiresome journey it must have been and you would do well to break it in half as I suggested, on your way back.

The uncle[41] is a good sort.   I’m glad to hear that, although not altogether surprised when I take into account the fact that he has a second wife and a second family.  A man with as many children as he has couldn’t be so selfish.  And you like their place too.  That is a beautiful part of the country and I know it well.  The mountains you see where you are don’t compare with the real Adirondack peaks – Mt. Marcy for instance.  You must have glimpsed the big ones from the train.  I am so happy that you enjoy everything there, - it gives me a feeling of pleasure too because I understand all the sensations you are experiencing; the woody smells, the balcony breezes, the dreariness of a rainy day, the hot mid-day sunshine, the tall grass, the cultivated fields – I recognize them all.  Are you near the lake - Champlain?  Something on the Zuider Zee style, that.

            A registered letter came to “420” and it is being sent on to you.  Also a packet from Harper’s which I took the liberty of opening.  It contained proofs of the coloured pictures.  I must confess they disappointed me very much, especially the kitchen scene which is very black- for that matter all the pictures are colourless.  The worst one of all, the scene on the ice, is going to be done over so don’t worry about it.  Miss Raymond says these are only first proofs and the later ones will be better.  I hope so.

            A bit of luck has come my way (accidentally, I’m sure).  Prof. Brebner, you remember who came to tea at our cave, was asked to give his historical advice to a certain author, but he declined and referred the gentleman to me!  The author in question, Mr. Lepton Close, is a specialist on Japanese affairs and he is writing a book about that country.   He wants to  bring out the parallel between the development of Japan and England and I am to act as his English expert adviser.  Inventor of parallels at $2.00 per hour!  I hope to meet him on Friday night for the first time and we will then go into the matter - at considerable length I hope.  Very decent of Brebner to be sure, I’ll advise him of the outcome, meanwhile I am getting up some information on Japanese history so I can talk intelligently when the time comes.

My grey suit is ready and I am rather frightened about our meeting again because if I won’t be able to recognize you, you won’t recognize me in my new clothes, what then?  I’ll wear a pink carnation in my lapel!

Carloads of love to my own darling.  Spike.

Dearest Hilda,

It was very satisfying for me to read about the Christmas celebrations[42] and I shared with you the children’s pleasures over their gifts.  Of course the two youngest are most interesting to us, as they unflower and reveal their minds and characters.  So far we have been very fortunate in our children, haven’t we?  Little John Anthony on the bench in front of the fireplace makes an unforgettable picture.  Do you think Gordon could take some more snaps of you all one day soon? 

I must say the photos you sent me for Xmas were extremely poor and inflattering.  I didn’t even show them to Peter and Billy; Willem persuaded me they were too bad for that.  It isn’t that any of you are less good-looking; the man who took them was simply incompetent.  I told you briefly about my visit there.  Willem and I shared a room until the Robertson’s went home.  Then Willem moved around the corner to the room with the lovely view over Clontarf.  Mostly he slept, being rather tired for one reason or another.  After a few days of that kind of thing I went to town every day on business. 

Peter produced a pianiste, the daughter of a British official in town, and she performed twice.  Willem was supposed to fall in love with her, but fortunately he didn’t.  I always thought her a poisonous woman.  On the other hand, I approved highly of Phoebe Kirkwood, Billy’s niece. 

I played golf twice and discovered I was absolutely terrible so I hope to brush up and surprise them all the next time I go over.  Golf is a good game to my mind and body. 

For the rest, we sat around and argued.  Peter is a constant source of amazement to me the way she can go on until the wee hours, fighting and disputing with Willem, long after Billy and I had dozed off in our chairs with exhaustion.  Did I tell you how pleased she was with the pictures in Gerrit?  She thought them the best so far!  Back here in London I was very glad to get into the swing of things again.  Now my newest interests are the London International Assembly in which I shall be a member of the American delegation. 

London with OSS to HvS, June 21, 1944

Dearest Darling Wife,

It is terribly hard to realize that Willem has been reported “Missing.”  After the RAF had notified me of this I went up to his station and talked with  his commanding officer and some of the men who knew him and who had flown along on the same mission.  This target was in Northern France,[43] behind the beachead on the night of June 9^th  and they flew in very bad weather.  Two planes in Willem’s squadron were lost that night.  We can only hope that he and his crew were able to bail out in time.  On account of the clouds and because it was night no one else on the mission saw what happened to him, so we can only conjecture and trust to his luck and judgement. 

The people at his station had great confidence in Willem and his chief told me that he had expected Willem to complete his tour of duty without any trouble.  This was his sixth mission over France and he was acquiring the self-confidence of an old hand at his job.  If he got into trouble of one kind or another he would have managed if it was at all humanly possible.  If the mission goes on at the rate we hope, it should not be long before we hear what happened to Willem and his crew.  There is nothing more I can do here to find out what his prospects are.  So I shall now try to get back to you as fast as I can although not by air, but by sea which may take longer but will be much safer.  Naturally the date of departure cannot be made known either to me or by me to you.  What I said in my last letter will give you an idea of when you may expect me.  As for the rug money I am grateful to Mr. Smith[44] for helping you out in the predicament I unwittingly placed you and will restore the balance of payments when I get back home.  Thank you for the children’s pictures.  They look lovely and I can scarcely wait to see them.  Little John Anthony especially fascinates me.  But however glad I may be to get back, it will be a sad reunion until the day when Willem comes back, d.v.[45]

Goodbye darling, your loving husband

Dublin to HvS Montreal, 1946

[Fragment on University Club, Dublin, stationery.][46]

… But she can’t be moved about so easily unless she goes by plane.  In a few weeks it will become possible to take a plane from Dublin to North Africa in a few hours.

            I told them of your idea to come to Ireland for a few months to see your friends, etc., and both Harry and Billy [Kirkwood] were very pleased with the idea.  Harry thought it would be better if your mother stopped in Sutton while you moved in with the children wherever we can find a house.   Cristo Gore-Grimes– two boys and one girl – says he could find a house for about ₤25 a month ($100) for such a period.  He thought of a place near his own house, right near a lovely strand where the children would be very safe, and not far from Sutton.  Cristo lives at Howth Junction, near the Claremont Hotel and I must say it would be perfectly lovely for you there.  I haven’t seen May Murray yet, but if you came across she might work for you and perhaps come back to Canada.  Of course, the great problem is cost: it will be very expensive to pay for the passage of our enormous brood but if your book is doing well that may not be impossible.  If it is too much, of course, then it may be possible only for your mother to go.  I think that under the circunstances it should not be postponed.

            Harry and Billy did not say very much about Willem[47] nor did I, neither did we talk of Phoebe although Charles Kirkwood was there.  He is a very human sort and gave me all the details of Harry’s illness, what would happen to the house if she died, etc., etc.

It seems that Jameson’s[48] is a kind of family institution and the shares in the business pass on to members of the family by rule.  The control of the business also passes on just as in feudal succession from father to son or daughter to nearest of kin.  If you own shares in the business you derive a fine safe income so you needn’t do any work.  The directors of Jameson’s appear at their offices at 11 a.m., open all the letters together, talk about them, and then go into the important work of the day – lunch.  After lunch, they doze a bit, and go home at 4 p.m. or earlier.  What a ghastly life for anyone with ambition!  Of course, Ireland is not a country which encourages ambition so that kind of existence fits in perfectly with the environment.

            Just to bring you up to date, I attended the conference on private air law in Paris,[49] then went to London where I spent last week at the meetings of the United Nations, and came over here on Friday.  I shall be here for two days, then go back to Paris to help the French get ready for their conference in April, back to London to see what the United Nations have done and then here to Dublin to attend the North Atlantic conference which will last for about two weeks and then home.  I may not go to the Dublin meeting but at any rate will return to Dublin on my way back.

            Think over the possibility of coming here and we’ll talk it over when I return.

             Love from Spike.

[1] Hilda’s brother, who volunteered as an air force pilot and was shot down over Laval in 1944.

[2] Spike was nominally working for the U.S.Minister but was actually reporting to the OSS (Office of Strategic Services).  His status was not appreciated by the Minister, who was unhappy at having someone on staff who did not report to him.  U.S. intelligence lagged far behind Britain’s prior to World War II and the OSS had a lot of catching up to do, as is evident by the sloppy way that Spike’s mail was being handled (“An American Spy in Ireland” makes clear that the Eire government was aware that Spike was, and others were, working for the OSS under cover of the Mission, but did not intervene).  The FDR administration appointed people to head up the OSS who were known to be trustworthy; friends of the President were therefore sprinkled throughout the top ranks.  OSS therefore was known informally as “Oh So Social.”  By the end of the war, the OSS was a lot more on a par with British Intelligence.  After World War II the CIA was created to centralize intelligence functions among the military and civilian services.  However, the problem of coordinating intelligence efforts remains, as the U.S. confrontation with terrorist activities made clear in 2001.

[3] Bridie Murray was an Irish friend of Hilda’s.  The Murrays were the model for the Bantry Bay books.

[4] LaGuardia?  Idlewilde, later JFK, Airport came later [?].

[5] Sam and Celia, who were in New York City.

[6] Presumably the OSS didn’t want Spike’s mission to Ireland advertised and Hilda was being reminded.

[7] This letter suggests the theme for The Mitchells–Five for Victory.

[8] Tom Collins was a U.S. Budget Bureau employee.

[9] Grace Harriet Sara Crichton married Billy Kirkwood.  Spike spells it Harry but Harrie is more usual and makes it clearer that she is a woman! See Chris Oakley's genealogy, which makes clear the complex family relationships.

[10] The Crichtons had a summer house near Sligo.  The Jamesons (of the whiskey family) did also, which is how the Marconis summered there (Guglielmo Marconi’s mother was a Jameson).  Finally, the MacDonnells also spent the summer on Sligo Bay and that is how the Boissevains and Marconis knew one another and why Guglielmo Marconi was able to introduce Eugen Boissevain to Inez Milholland (whom Marconi met on board the Cunard ship that was the trial run for the use of the wireless radio to create on-board newspapers, a staple of Cunard liners ever since; Marconi was so taken with Inez that he proposed to her even though she had not yet entered college; she accepted but later released Marconi from his commitment when he was convinced by his Irish mother that he should not have proposed marriage to someone so young; she wanted him to marry someone Irish, which he did). 

[11] Trinity College, Dublin (TCD as it was called then).

[12] Dowling.  John Dowling was one of Hilda’s suitors and was the family dentist in Dublin in 1951-1955.  He was a charming and intelligent man but by his own admission not a world-class dentist, as is clear from the correspondence.

[13] Dun Laoghaire, as it was renamed when the Republic of Ireland (Eire) was declared.

[14] A theme of the Mitchells: V for Victory.

[15] Maurice was apparently chief of staff in the Ministry in Dublin.

[16] The Dail (pronounced doil) is the name given to the Irish Republican Parliament.

[17] TD = Member of the Dail (as in MP).

[18] Pic Gwynne was a former love of Willem van Stockum, Hilda's brother. Their relationship ended tragically because of the opposition of Pic's father, provost of Trinity College, Dublin. 

[19] Evie Hone was an Irish artist, a friend of Hilda’s from her art school days in Dublin.  Hilda showed Evie’s early stained-glass work to a Dutch art professor who encouraged her to concentrate on this medium.  Evie did and later became an internationally recognize stained glass artist.

[20] Father Colquhoun (pronounced co-hoon) was a Church of Ireland priest, later bishop.  Hilda did a painting of him that was prominently displayed in the Montreal house.

[21]Willem van Stockum, Hilda’s brother, second child after her (Jan was the youngest).

[22] Jan van Stockum, Hilda’s brother, who like Willem attended Trinity College, Dublin.

[23] This is the publication of the Bircher-Benner clinic in Zurich, which was way ahead of its time in identifying the health problems of fatty food.  Dr. Ralph Bircher-Benner recommended vegetarianism on the basis of observing the beneficial effects of not eating meat.  He designed Bircher-Muesli as a substitute for cow’s milk, which he considered too fatty, and as a nutritional emulation of mothers’ milk.

[24] Havelaar was a Dutch art critic and writing critic; Hilda was in the same class as his son. Max Havelaar created a foundation for the fair trade of commodities with developing countries.

[25] Dutch for “your mother,” i.e., Olga Boissevain van Stockum, living with her daughter in Washington

[26] May Murray, sister of Bridie Murray; the Murrays were the model for the O’Sullivans in the Bantry Bay books

[27] Michael Murray, eldest brother of May and Bridie.

[28] Browne & Nolan was a Dublin publisher, equivalent in importance to today’s Barnes & Noble in New York City.

[29] Abbey Theater.

[30] Willem’s best friend of all was David Grene (1913-2002). Willem and he had been students together at St. Andrew’s College, a preparatory school.  Grene became a professor of Classics at the University of Chicago. His son Gregory Grene lives in New York City and has been in touch with the family, he said that his father often remarked on the tragedy of the love affair between Willem and Pic Gwynne.

[31] PG=Paying Guest.  The Mr. Smith who was the main boarder at 3728 Northampton Street in Washington was nicknamed “Miffy” (“Mr. Smith”) by Sheila and was so known by the Marlins for the rest of his life.

[32] Bridie Murray.

[33] Spike’s mission was to look for any signs of German or Japanese sympathy or infiltration in Ireland during the war.  He was under light cover. While he was a spy, he was not expected to disguise the fact that he was looking for information for the U.S. Government.  The Minister was seeking to put pressure on the Irish to come into the war on the side of the Allies by making strong and inaccurate statements about the degree to which the Axis was taking advantage of Irish neutrality.  The OSS wanted Spike to get independent information about the extent to which the Irish were cooperating with the British despite their neutrality.  The fact that Holland had been neutral in World War I and yet had been helpful in opposing the Germans was perhaps a point that Spike wanted to make and he viewed Hilda’s Dutch books as helping to give him credibility and also steer the subject to neutrality issues.  Spike’s conclusion was that the Irish Government was in no way assisting the Germans even though for the consumption of the Irish public deValera occasionally did things to poke the British in the eye.  Spike also concluded that while the Irish people still had the persecution of the Black and Tans fresh in their mind and had no love for the British, they considered it an intra-family dispute and had no interest in helping the Germans.

[34] Letter breaks off here; may have been torn off by censor in Ireland or USA.