Lucy Maud Montgomery

by Mary Henley Rubio

  Someone wrote to the Patriot to point out that abolishing automobiles from Island roads would damage all Smith’s good work in promoting the province: would the well-heeled tourists even come to the Island, this writer asked, “if they had to leave their automobiles behind”? But, incredibly, in 1908, a complete ban on automobiles was instituted in Prince Edward Island.51

  The 1908 law undercut all of Smith’s promotion of the Island as a tourist destination, and Smith was undoubtedly annoyed. A restless adventurer, he soon decided that it was time to move on. On May 11, 1909, Smith resigned as pastor of St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Cardigan, and this again drew newspaper attention, although less than one would expect. When asked to reconsider his resignation, he told people that he had already accepted a position as assistant editor with the Presbyterian Witness and would leave the Island at the end of June. “He wields an incisive and vigorous pen, and will no doubt achieve success in his new position. He will not forsake the pulpit, but will preach frequently in different churches, where his work calls him,” wrote The Daily Patriot, graciously. Smith had been steadily supplementing his income with travel writing for various magazines, and he continued this, travelling by his yacht to places—Newfoundland, for example—that he wanted to write about. By June 28, 1909, Smith had bought himself a newer and bigger yacht, this one sporting both sails and a gasoline engine. He was always one of the first to make use of new technology in travel, photography, and communication. His move to the mainland took him out of the Prince Edward Island newspapers, but it focussed attention on the fact that ambitious ministers were leaving the Island.

  It was only after Smith’s departure from the Island that Ewan took the initiative of attending the Presbyterian Church General Assembly in Toronto, looking for a new position and a fresh start off the Island. He got his position in Leaskdale and Zephyr, Ontario, and was inducted on March 15, 1910.

  Smith first moved to Nova Scotia, then to Alberta, and finally returned to Ontario. In November 1915, he accepted a call to be minister at the very beautiful Avondale Presbyterian Church in Tillsonburg, a small town between Toronto and Detroit. Maud does not mention this in her journals, but she does paste a picture of the handsome church and Smith in her scrapbooks. (How or where she got the clipping is unknown, but she could have cut it from a church publication.)

  At the time the war broke out, Canadians of British extraction were deeply patriotic. Like most ministers, Smith depicted the war as a struggle against the dark forces of evil. Like Ewan, he assisted at recruitment or “patriotic” rallies.

  Unlike Ewan, however, Smith was a “man of action.” He and his wife, Grace, had produced seven children since their marriage in 1897. At age forty-six, in 1916, Smith did an astonishing thing: he obtained a leave of absence from his congregation and, leaving his family, volunteered for military service, travelling to England to train at the Royal Naval College. He won first-class honours in all subjects (with much better marks than he had scored in theology school, where he had been a good but erratic student). From then until 1918, he served in the British Navy.

  The Toronto Star of September 22, 1917, carried a big article about Edwin Smith entitled “Canadian Parson, Naval Officer: First man from this country to win commission in British navy / A Thorough Briton / When war began he left his church in Tillsonburg to Command a Patrol Boat.” He became famous for being the only ordained clergyman who ever commanded one of His Majesty’s ships of war.52

  After the war was over, in 1919, Smith returned to Canada and to his family, moving to Oshawa. Ewan and Maud had spent much of that summer in Boston, where Ewan had had treatments with Dr. Nathan Garrick. Shortly after their return in September 1919, Smith—now known as Captain Smith of the British Royal Navy—turned up in Leaskdale to visit them. He was now very famous as a war hero. He came to visit Maud and Ewan at the precise time that Ewan’s mental health was at its most vulnerable.53

  Of course, Smith knew Ewan reasonably well, having associated with him frequently in church meetings before they left the Island, but there was no other strong bond between them. (In fact, these earlier church meetings had often been chaired by Smith, with Ewan only a participant.) But Captain Smith, like every literate reader in Canada, knew that Maud had become famous, and without doubt he was impressed by her success. A man of wide-ranging literary and intellectual interests himself, he had always written for periodicals. No doubt he thought it would be interesting to talk about old times on the Island, to hear how celebrity had affected Maud, and, most of all, to regale both Maud and Ewan with his war adventures. Smith was a superb raconteur in private, a spellbinding speaker in public, and a treat to have as a guest.

  Smith was also a guest who came with a long history. The past successes of this astonishing speaker would now be repositioned in Ewan’s fragile present, threatening him again. Maud speaks several times in her journals of Ewan’s deep-seated sense of inadequacy, but she does not say how flattered and pleased she is that the famous Captain Smith is now seeking them out.

  Maud felt anxiety when Ewan first went to Uxbridge to pick up Smith on September 13, 1919. He was depressed, and they had words just before he set out for the station. Maud tried to reason him into banishing his “false and blasphemous ideas” about being “damned.” In exasperation, she told him he had “responsibilities”: he “had brought two children into the world.” He retorted: “Yes, and I wish from the bottom of my heart I never had.” This was unlike Ewan.

  Then he added, “Well, I must go to meet Smith I suppose. Your idea is that I must go on till I drop.” With these bitter words, he left for the station.

  To Maud’s surprise, when Ewan returned from Uxbridge he was a different man. According to her journal, he was chatting amiably about “old times” with the engaging and irrepressible Smith. On Sunday, September 14, Smith acted as supply minister, after a summer of supply ministers, in the ailing Ewan’s pulpit. Smith spoke to both of Ewan’s congregations. He had fascinating stories to tell about his own heroic experiences as captain of a fleet patrolling the German-infested waters of the English Channel. Promoted to lieutenant in the war, Smith was proud that his men were personally “inspected” and praised by the King of England.

  As a special token of thanks after the war, the British government had given him his own personal copy of the film they made from footage of the war. A copy of this historical film, The Empire’s Shield, is in the British War Museum in London, England. (Smith himself does not appear in it.) Riding on his fame after the war, Smith resumed his travels and speeches, but now in the capacity of a “war hero.” He travelled throughout Canada and the United States, talking about the war, and using the novelty of the silent film to illustrate his talks. Ewan’s parishioners could now hear this charismatic speaker in person. In a religious setting, Smith’s battle stories seemed to prove that God was always with him, supporting the righteous side, and that he was one of God’s many brave warriors. This must have been hard for Ewan to hear, feeling that he was himself one of God’s outcasts.

  Smith stayed on with the Macdonalds on that visit in September 1919— and on and on—for almost five days, telling them of his adventures. This was a long time to leave a wife and seven children who had not seen him during the entire time he was at war. Maud was an avid listener, starved as she was for good conversation and companionship after a summer of Ewan’s depression and withdrawal. Smith’s illustrious career again shone a bright light on Ewan’s dingy one, but the immediate effect of his visit was stimulating, probably because it distracted Ewan temporarily from his demons.

  After Smith’s first visit to the Macdonalds in September 1919, Ewan stayed reasonably well until mid-November. Then he slid into depression again. This prompted more visits from Smith, who was always happy to put on his minister’s gown and preach for Ewan. The Reverend Edwin Smith, now out of the ministry, missed having an audience. Maud loved his company—he pulled her out of her own preoccupation with Ewan’s condition. Smit
h always came without his wife, who stayed home with their family. Smith became a frequent visitor throughout the next four years, bringing much needed intellectual companionship to Maud’s constricted life.

  In December 1917, Maud had hired a new maid named Lily Meyers, the sister of the earlier maid, Edith Meyers (and no relation to Lily Reid, the first maid). She was a lively and temperamental young woman, but a hard worker. She came from Zephyr, where her family lived close to Marshall Pickering. She was also a gossip, and an indiscreet one. At first, Lily did well as a maid. She was cute and funny, and had a number of possible suitors. She seemed satisfied with her work, expecting no doubt to leave as soon as she had found a young man to marry. But romances came and went, and several years later, when no proposals had come to rescue her, Lily became increasingly cross and disgruntled. (See Maud’s journal entries of April 8, 17, 1921; May 8, 1921; March 29, 1924.)

  An unrestrained rumour-monger, Lily began to prattle on in the community about the Macdonalds’ friendship with Smith. This friendship would have been seen as normal by most everyone, given that Ewan and Edwin had known each other on the Island, and “down-easterners” were known to be clannish. But Lily could see something different in the dynamic between Smith and the Macdonalds. Maud came to life when Smith arrived. Increasingly, Ewan sat in silence, listening during their animated and witty conversations. Lily could not have understood that Ewan was ill with depression, and merely saw that he looked sullen and morose. Each time Lily went home, she took gossip to Zephyr, and when she returned, she brought that village’s gossip back.

  To people in the Leaskdale and Zephyr community, it would have been unthinkable for a minister’s wife to carry on with another man—and a married minister at that. Maud would certainly never have done anything disreputable, but she was human enough to enjoy Smith’s attention and admiration as well as his stimulating conversation.

  Smith continued selling insurance for the Imperial Life Insurance Company of Oshawa, and Maud bought a $20,000 life insurance policy from him. By July 1920, the Smiths had moved to Whitby, even closer to Leaskdale. Maud notes that on July 24, 1920, Captain Smith motored in, and in no time had them all “cheered up.” She adds: “There is something infectiously healthy about his personality—you simply catch optimism from him. He stayed all night and we had a very pleasant evening …” She adds that since they live only thirty miles apart, “we can be neighbourly.”

  On August 28, 1920, the Macdonalds motored to Whitby to visit the Smiths. Upon their arrival, Ewan began complaining of headache and exhibiting symptoms of depression. Maud added to her August 1920 account of this particular visit to Whitby: “Mrs. Smith is a nice matronly person but not especially stimulating. I liked her, however.” As she damned with such faint praise, Maud knew very well that she herself was never boring.

  In May 1921, Smith drove to Leaskdale to collect Maud, who was giving a speech at Whitby’s Ladies’ College. Sounding not unlike “Anne” entering Avonlea for the first time, Maud effused as they travelled to Whitby: “We motored through a spring world of young leaf and blossom and had a wonderful drive.” She stayed overnight with the Smiths. Ewan and the boys drove in to retrieve her the next day.

  This time Ewan came looking morose and bearing tales of their increasingly cantankerous maid, Lily. He expected Maud to come home and deal with the “Lily problem.” Lily had always alternated between being “amiable and well behaved” and sulky and insolent (September 13, 1923). Moreover, she had been working in the manse nearly five years now (since 1917), and was bored with her job. Maud resented Lily’s untidiness and increasing failure to do the required work. Maud had plenty of other things on her mind, including the ongoing lawsuit with Page. But she was afraid to scold Lily: “Lily is the sort of girl who, if sent away from a place, would revenge herself by telling lies everywhere about the ménage she had left” (October 24, 1922). Maud was quite sure that Lily had been gossiping about Smith’s visits. This embittered her further. There was no way that Maud could discuss this gossiping with Lily, who would have turned any mention of it into even juicier gossip.

  It was shortly after Maud’s speech at Whitby Ladies’ College, accompanied by Smith, that poor, distracted Ewan had crashed into Marshall Pickering on June 11, 1921.

  Later that month, the Macdonalds and the Smiths were planning a joint drive to Prince Edward Island. They would each drive their own cars, traveling in tandem, with the Macdonalds in one car, and the Smiths and another couple in the Smiths’ car. Such a plan seems bizarre: the front car would throw up dust from the roads, and the car behind, with open windows, would harvest it all. Motoring with open windows in hot weather would make conversation all but impossible. And the dust that blew through the cars would stick to sweaty bodies and clothes. This trip, in July 1921, was predictably a nightmare. (See description of it in journal entry of August 11, 1921.)

  Maud, ever the photographer, took a picture of the three couples picnicking along the way. It shows Smith as his usual vigorous self, but Ewan looks pitifully estranged from the circle of friends, and both angry and sad. In the photo he removes himself from the group, and even though he hides behind his dark glasses, he is no doubt feeling considerable internal pain.

  That November (1921), Ewan and Maud again motored to Whitby so that she could speak in the Methodist church. Ewan’s state of mind had further deteriorated. Right before they left on November 6, Maud had a terrible session with him. She again pried out of him a frightening admission: that he wanted to commit suicide, but was too much of a “coward” to do so. She wrote in her journal:

  He is no more like the man I married than—he is not the man I married. An altogether different personality is there—and a personality which is repulsive and abhorrent to me. And yet to this personality I must be a wife. It is horrible—it is indecent—it should not be. I feel degraded and unclean. (November 1, 1921)

  Smith’s next recorded visit seems to have been on February 28, 1922. Ewan was away once again “preaching for a call” and Captain Smith came to fill in for him. Maud casually and jauntily writes:

  Captain Smith … was here both Saturday and Sunday nights and we spent both evenings talking of a thousand subjects. It is such a delight to have a real conversation with a companion of intellect and sympathy. Captain Smith is one of the few people I have met with whom I can discuss with absolute frankness, any and every subject, even the delicate ones of sex. Sex is to men and women one of the most vital subjects in the world—perhaps the most vital subject since our total existence is based on and centres around it. Yet with how few, even of women, can this vital subject be frankly and intelligently discussed. It is so overlaid with conventions, inhibitions and taboos that it is almost impossible for anyone to see it as it really is. (February 28, 1922)

  This evening of free-ranging discussions, on topics like “sex … as it really is,” must have kept Lily’s ear to the keyhole, especially given Ewan’s absence.

  To make matters more suspicious to Lily, the next day Maud and Smith left alone together for Toronto, leaving her behind to watch over Stuart and Chester, now aged seven and ten. In Toronto, Maud and Captain Smith met up with Mrs. Smith, as well as with Ewan, who had been away preaching “for a call.” They all went to Massey Hall to hear the controversial Mrs. Margot Asquith, Countess of Oxford and Asquith, lecture on her very frank memoirs.

  Mrs. Asquith was the outspoken second wife of Herbert Henry Asquith, the British prime minister from 1908 to 1916, who had led Britain into war. Mrs. Asquith was a noted wit, a society woman, and “personality.” She was uninhibited to the point of being scandalous, and full of often indiscreet gossip about her friends in the literary and political worlds, with a reputation that had travelled around the British Empire. Like Maud in that she kept a diary, Mrs. Asquith had written and published, from 1920 to 1922, a two-volume autobiography that shocked readers, including Maud. But Maud had read in Mrs. Asquith’s memoirs that Henry James had read her diary in 1915 and to
ld her that she was the “Balzac of diarists,” catching the essence of people, and pulling the secrets out of “crooked lives.” (Maud’s entry of December 13, 1920, gives her less-than-impressed comments about Mrs. Asquith’s autobiography.)

  It is not hard to imagine the tales Lily could have spun in her own head about Maud and Captain Smith driving off to Toronto together, knowing that would make juicy gossip in Zephyr.

  There is no mention of the Smiths again until July 1922, when the Macdonalds stayed over with them on their way to Niagara. By this time, the Macdonalds were very preoccupied with the Pickering lawsuit, with the court date set for the trial on November 23, 1922.

  In the second week of May 1923, Smith filled in for Ewan again when he was away in Prince Edward Island, and Maud accompanied him to the Zephyr service. Maud and Ewan had long felt tension with some of the Zephyr congregation. Maud particularly disliked a woman named Mrs. Will Lockie who was adept at delivering gratuitous and subtle insults to her. (Entries of April 6, 1922, and November 16, 1922, show Maud’s views on Mrs. Will Lockie. Maud was fond of some other women also named Mrs. Lockie.)

  On the way out of the church that Sunday, an amiable parishioner remarked to Maud that the congregation missed Ewan; Mrs. Will Lockie quipped within Maud’s hearing, “Oh, well, we had a very good sermon. Captain Smith seemed to take so well with the young people” (May 13, 1923). Maud fumed silently over the implication that Ewan did not, even though she knew it was true. Mrs. Lockie’s greater insult, however, lay in the subtle inference that Ewan and Smith were somehow competitors. The congregations of Leaskdale and Zephyr could not help feel the difference between these two preachers: a depressed and stiff Ewan and a dynamic Edwin Smith. Maud was only too aware of Ewan’s deficiencies, but hearing Mrs. Lockie’s putting them out in the open was demeaning. Maud knew Ewan had never been good with young people; he was, as his son Stuart later said, the “kind of man who is born old.” But Maud was loyal to her husband.