Arthur Mayne: a family portrait
Sadly, this fascinating book has sunk into obscurity since it was published in 1976; there were no reviews of this book on Goodreads or Library Thing when I looked. In fact, the only reason I haven’t given this book away is that I loved the cover so much. What I hadn’t realised was that it is not a novel about a boring man, as the back cover blurb suggests, but a cloaked biography written by Arthur Mayne’s daughter, Henrie Mayne, the pseudonym of Margaret Lucy Mayne, married name Peters, who is known as Lucy in the book. Her mother Isabelle was in reality Emily Bonnycastle Mayne (also named Aimee). The mundane Pooter-like life I had expected to read about was far from the truth. The man portrayed in this book may be unreasonable, but he also led a fascinating life as an administrator in India, briefly as a WWI ambulance driver, but was then sent off in charge of organising Red Cross parcels and POW repatriation in Switzerland.
Sadly for his family, his wife Isabelle would have been better suited to a life of socialising, so tensions were often high. However, she had delayed her marriage to him so she could go to university and had expected a more intellectually fulfilling life. After they left India, she was able to express this side of herself and gave public lectures. As her father was undoubtedly misunderstood within the family, especially as he tended to withdraw rather than complain like his wife, An Unreasonable Man is their daughter’s attempt to redress the balance and write more positively about the father she loved and was exasperated by. I have quoted fairly extensively because this book is almost impossible to find for anyone who wants to know what it’s about.
A man of promise
Arthur Mayne was a serious but awkward young man who had difficulty making friends. He tended to be a bit of a hanger-on. “Arthur’s final examinations were a triumph. A Wrangler and then third in the Indian Civil Service, at that time the highest competitive examination- in the world.
A number of careers were now open, but he had set his heart on India. His father had never spoken of India, though his thoughts often turned bitterly to the world, from which he had severed himself, of frontier fights, dusty cantonments*, balls in hill stations, pig-sticking. … Arthur’s thoughts were inspired by the Victorian dream of Empire, of benevolent despotism over backward peoples, years of solitary toil in bad climates, with glittering prizes at the end for those who stayed the course.” *Permanent military station
When he moved to India, he lived at first in a shared household with several other unmarried men, a so-called ‘chummery’; needless to say, he was friendly with his housemates but did not make any good friends. He went to work at the provincial Finance Department HQ, then moved to Bombay, which decamped to summer quarters in Simla (now Shimla). The detailed description of his daily duties is fascinating.
After four years in India, with months of famine followed by epidemics of cholera and smallpox and after he had suffered from dysentery and malaria, Arthur was given leave to visit England. Milan Kundera’s point in Ignorance about the people back home not being interested in what you have experienced abroad is borne out here; only Arthur’s youngest brother Bertie is interested.
A remote hill station – Pachmarhi
Arthur’s next posting was as an administrator in a truly remote area. Here, the author tells us interesting snippets of information about local culture, which her father must have told her about as a child, for instance, “If you praise a child, a jealous God might overhear and decide to make away with him. The best thing is to say, ‘That’s a puny little wretch: he won’t last long,’ and leave it at that. Then everyone feels safe. […] Or they might by think you wanted the baby for yourself. You see, generally speaking, if you admire anything, they present you with it straight away.” This sounds remarkably similar to the baboutie (?) system in Kiribati, where people only have to ask for something for them to be given it without question, setting up a system of mutual support and sharing. Though I do wonder if this is a misinterpretation of how things work in India when there is a power imbalance.
By this time, due to sheer persistence and absolute adoration, Arthur had won the hand of a beautiful young woman, Isabelle, the sister of one of his university friends, Archie. She was excited to start her life in the colonies of which she had heard so much, but was dismayed to discover just how remote their posting was. What Arthur hadn’t expected was that his wife was totally unprepared for the physical side of marriage and, being a considerate man, he agreed to delay this until she felt ready. Bored in their remote house, when she got the opportunity to escape, she enjoyed herself. “At the hill station Isabelle had a whale of a time: picnics, dances, riding, tennis, golf, concerts at which she sang with great acclaim. Besides, she was the heroine of a famine. There were times when she genuinely agonised over Arthur working in his stricken district, but they grew fewer. The life of a pretty young grass widow in a gay resort full of unattached gentlemen didn’t allow much time for fretting.”
A family man
Here I need to add a disclaimer: I read this book several months ago, so I am not completely sure of the order of events here. After returning to England on an early furlough due to Arthur’s repeated illnesses, life was too expensive for them, not least because Bertie had to go to Egypt for treatment for tuberculosis, paid for by Arthur. Isabelle’s mother was reluctant to give them a loan. Her daughter was obviously not happy in her marriage. To live more cheaply, they decided to go on a train and cycling trip through Germany and Switzerland. Isabelle’s mother visited them at St Moritz and accused Arthur of not consummating the marriage and providing her with grandchildren. He told her to mind her own business, but after a word with her daughter, Isabelle finally decided it was her duty to the Empire to have children. When they returned to India, to a less remote hill station, Arthur refused to socialise, but agreed to write to apologise to Isabelle’s mother. Sadly, her mother did not live to read the letter or meet her grandchildren.
When Isabelle was pregnant with their second child, they visited Archie in France. Isabelle disapproved of the Corsican woman he was in love with, but Arthur refused to interfere, though soon wrote to tell Archie their feelings. It was not long before they heard that the couple had nevertheless decided to get married. Around the same time, they took Arthur’s sister back to India with them, with a view to finding her an eligible bachelor. However, she seemed to avoid going to social events and seemed ungrateful; she was badly affected by the heat, she said. The household servant Amma soon reported that she had found out what the problem was; she was in fact pregnant. Isabelle shipped her off to England post-haste, where she married the man who had caused the trouble in the first place; fortunately they went on to become a reasonably happy couple.
Meanwhile, back in India, Isabelle had found something to occupy her. “Only in child-bearing could she find relief from boredom. She had given up trying to write articles, to interest herself in the women of the country, to study something of the history, customs and sects of the east. She had adopted the Anglo-Indian woman’s outlook of blasé indifference to those tiresome natives.” As the children got older, Arthur decided to teach them to read. “As babies he had found them frankly rather repellent, but for stuffing the young inquiring mind with miscellaneous information, he had a kind of genius. His sustained patience in arousing a desire to learn, revealed a hitherto unsuspected talent in him that was to play a large part in his children’s lives.”
A hypochondriac with imagination
After taking the eldest two children to boarding school in England, Arthur took to his bed whenever there was anything he wanted to avoid.
“What had once seemed to provide a miraculous escape from the unhappy Isabelle of reality to the living and adorable creature that existed in his dreams was now an escape from Isabelle altogether. […] Unable to specify his chronic illness, he invented one to his satisfaction. He settled for a rare tropical microbe with a Latin name, invisible except through a powerful microscope, that featured in an obscure medical dictionary and which he referred to as his worm.” He claimed he was paid low by ‘fatigue poisons’ exuded by this imaginary worm.
When Arthur reached pensionable age at the start of WWII, they decided to return to England, but had to go via Japan and North America, ending up in Victoria BC in Canada because women and children were not allowed to cross the Atlantic. Arthur took to knitting and playing patience. Isabelle nagged him to do something more manly for the war effort so he travelled to England and signed up with the Red Cross to become an ambulance driver in Italy, telling them he was used to driving on poor roads in India. He was stationed in an area surrounded by mountains and the Carso (Karst plateau), known as the worst battleground in Europe, close to the current border with Slovenia. This was the Isonzo or Soča Front. I have had a book about the Soča Front on my shelves for several years and had no idea where it was! Part of A Farewell to Arms is also set in the same area. Time to reread that, perhaps.
Red Cross hero
Arthur was then unexpectedly appointed as British Commissioner to the Red Cross in Berne, leading Aid to Prisoners of War, packing up parcels of food and clothing. They also ran the office tracing missing POWs. Most of the food they sent in the food parcels was bread due to weight restrictions, but due to inferior wartime flour and the time it took to deliver, the bread was often inedible by the time it got there. Arthur used the skills he developed during the famine in India to organise the delivery of rusks instead.
“The French had evolved a rusk, only three inches long, two inches wide and an inch thick. It was hard but friable. If a small hole were made in the top, a little water poured in and the rusk baked for a few minutes, it swelled into something very like bread. Arthur placed the contract with the factory at Calais, called on reserve supplies of flour from Canada and urged the Swiss bakers to evolve an improved rusk. The Swiss rusks were smaller and harder – little rocks that had the supreme virtue of lasting more or less indefinitely and transforming themselves into excellent bread.” Fascinating!
In 1916 it was decided to transfer the most badly injured POWs from German camps to Swiss health resorts such as Mürren and Château d’Oex, where Arthur organised recreation and training centres for tailoring, carpentry, shoe repair, bookbinding, shorthand and art courses. Arthur’s office kept a register of prisoners, keeping in contact with their families, organising family and friends to visit and attending repatriation boards for the very sick. He was also responsible for tracing missing persons. His attention to minute detail was perfect for this job.
This work is described in some detail here, mentioning Arthur Mayne by name, as well as the fact that he probably had Aspergers.
“Mr. Arthur Mayne who had been director at the Berne bureau from October 1917 to June 1918, moved to Copenhagen. He was a retired Indian civil servant. He was by many accounts a strange character, with an irascible temper, not easy to work with but an exceptionally good administrator. Had he lived today he would probably be diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome. It is probably thanks to him that the changes in Berne in June 1918 succeeded so well.” The Copenhagen Bureau, Gerard Wilkins, 30 June 2016.
Lucy a.k.a. Henrie Mayne joins her father
Arthur asked his daughter Lucy to join him. She declined as it was her last year at school, but showing typical stubbornness he withdrew her from school and brought her over anyway. She later agreed it was the right thing to do. He was staying at the Hotel Schweizerhof, where he met all sorts of dignitaries, including the Dutch Minister, ‘Mynheer Jonk van Beg und Donk’. As he consistently mispronounced foreign names, I assume this was more likely to be Dr B. de Jong van Beek en Donk, referred to in this letter from the US ambassador to France in 1918: Peace activist, Director of the Ministry of Justice, member of the Association for a Durable Peace. At the end of the war, Mayne was sent to Berlin to organise repatriation of POWs. According to his daughter, he was the first British official to fly in to Tempelhof airport. He arrived on 18 November, a week after the Armistice was signed on 11 November 1918.
A misunderstood man
This is where this sort of factual book is dangerous for me as I start to google more information. Apparently there was interference from the British War Office and a committee in Spa (Belgium) that were drawing up plans for repatriation, but Lord Kilmarnock spoke up to tell them the Red Cross was already working on it with the so-called Danish Scheme. This is mentioned in a dissertation on The Danish Scheme: The Repatriation of British Prisoners of War Through Denmark at the End of the First World War. Mayne was the sole representative of the British Red Cross in Berlin, but characteristically caused an incident by telling POWs that they were now free to vote as they wished once they got home. According to German press reports, he worded it in such a way that he endorsed the Labour leader, Ramsey MacDonald. As a consequence he nearly lost his job, but Lord Kilmarnock intervened to say that the removal of Mayne would wreck the work of moving the POWs from the camps to the ports, and that the Soldiers’ and Workmen’s councils who were currently assisting might object to his being removed on political grounds. He added that Dix considered his retention essential.
Footnote 41 in the dissertation says the following: “TNA FO 383/384 contains many items relating to this incident, including Mayne’s own explanation. He was reported as having proclaimed himself to be a Fabian Socialist at a large meeting organised by Schlesinger, delegate of the Soldier’s and Workmen’s councils for the POW department, to which over 800 British POWs had been invited from the nearby camps. The Germans wanted the POWs to understand that Germany was now very different, and that those in power now were not responsible for their suffering and the treatment they had endured. An account of this meeting and Mayne’s part in it can be found in P. Brown, Germany in Dissolution (London: Andrew Melrose Ltd., 1920). Brown was a British journalist who had been interned in Ruhleben. Instead of accompanying his fellow POWs back to the UK he went to Berlin to take up his work again.”
This all has remarkable parallels with the British response to Covid. After initial incompetence, the rollout of vaccinations was initially surprisingly efficient in the UK. Just as the rest of Europe watched the speed of the vaccination programme in the UK with surprise, the Danish Scheme for repatriation was incredible efficient and successful. Except for those POWs who found their own way home after POW camp commandants released them immediately after the ceasefire was declared, all British POWs were repatriated by 5 December, i.e. in under one month. The German government then requested them to evacuate other nationalities, hence the disgraced Arthur continued to do the same for French, Romanians, Italians and Russians in turn.
I know virtually nothing about the First World War, so I learned a little here. For instance, I had no idea that there was fighting in Italy, I didn’t realise that the Austro-Hungarian Empire still existed, I didn’t know anything about the role of the Russians. I had wondered how the Russian Revolution fitted in with the First World War, but never given it much thought. Idiotic, when you think about it, that our school set us poetry by First World War Poets to study (use of hyperbole, alliteration, onomatopoeia), but didn’t tell us anything at all about the background. What I’ve picked up over the years has all been based around trench warfare in the Somme.
Retirement. Isabelle has her day
After his wartime work was completed, Arthur returned to Britain and, after much fruitless house hunting, bought a house in Jersey. He claimed to be at death’s door, yet became a keen gardener. Isabelle, apart from running the house, embarked on a career as a public speaker, lecturing at Women’s Institutes about ‘The position of women in India’, ‘Samuel Pepys’, ‘City churches’ and ‘Wartime Canada’. She also became an enthusiastic member of various committees, including the League of Nations Union, holidays for Welsh miners, etc., all this taking her out of the house. Arthur spent much of the winter in bed, though helped the children with their homework or read aloud to them when Isabelle was away.
Isabelle was an insomniac. If she had had a bad night, she would take it out on the family, not by being grumpy, but by lecturing them, often on the virtues of Soviet Russia: “She was infatuated with all things Russian – their abolition of religion, their experiment with free love, their state-run nurseries, farms, cooperative enterprises, broad backs, ready smiles, square jaws and fine teeth – their absolute superiority, in fact.” She later changed her mind after Edmund paid for her to take a trip there. “At Sebastopol. she basically took a snapshot of the harbour (including distant fortifications), from the deck of the ship which had brought the Party from Odessa, and found herself gaoled without delay. When released, she returned to find that her soap had been stolen.” That was the last straw and she lost her love of the country.
Family life in Jersey
“The youngest son [Richard/Dickie] had a somewhat startling originality of mind, which gave rise to a display of eccentricity wholly inexcusable in the young, in Isabelle’s opinion. In a brief period of teetotalism, he had to have a special trifle prepared without sherry, even a special salad without vinegar. Like many other extremist, [sic] he tended to veer from pole to pole.” He was also a notorious practical joker who tended to the extreme: “There were scandalous happenings from time to time – stink-bombs in the headmasters study; nocturnal breaking-in to neighbouring houses for the apparently innocent purpose of rearranging the drawing-room furniture; and the unaccountable trail of a pair of black footsteps across the newly-painted ceiling of an hotel lounge.”
Isabelle was a crusader without a cause; she would have made an excellent suffragette, but of course, she was out in India so missed the opportunity. In Canada, she had briefly become obsessed with theosophy and spiritualism. Arthur completely rejected religion, spiritualism, saying that if she managed to contact him after his death, it must be an imposter as he refused to haunt her. In his view, religion is “pure wishful thinking. We just don’t like to think of ourselves as insignificant.… The idea of personal survival, of a personal God engaged and supervising the welfare of each one of us, is highly ludicrous.… Mind over matter… M’yes. What I’d really like to see is a shipload of Christian Scientists in a rough sea… Don’t misunderstand me, though, when I speak of the insignificance of individuals. I believe that man, while insignificant from the point of view of the Cosmos, should be given a chance of leading a happy and useful life. That is why I’m interested in social experiments. Morality changes. Theories of conduct are constantly discredited. But what will make for the greatest happiness for the greatest number is an ideal worth pursuing. The response to favourable circumstances must be greater than the response to unfavourable ones. You might say that’s my religion.”
Arthur also became a translator: a German POW’s experiences, a couple of Spanish novels, Tharaud brothers’ historical romances. Lucy collaborated with her father on the translation of The Naked Truth and Eleven Other Stories by Luigi Pirandello. Then she went back to work and he lost interest. He was an all or nothing kind of obsessive (rather like John Laroche in Susan Orlean’s The Orchid Thief). He had developed a love of P.G. Wodehouse, then was exhilarated by Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.
Then, out of the blue, the estranged Archie decided to visit. He had turned into a bald, deaf and shrunken old man. Sadly, he had only come back to commit suicide by poisoning himself on the beach, as explained in the Bonnycastle family genealogy site. He claimed his family was better off without him. There is also a cryptic note about diamonds having gone missing that had been given to his sister (Isabelle/Emily/Aimee) for safekeeping. This contradicts the story in An Unreasonable Man, where Henrie Mayne says he left a note saying he had left his money to Arthur and Isabelle.
Soon all the children had left home and most of them were living abroad. Arthur took to his bed, claiming he had a rare form of TB. Lucy shook him out of it and arranged for the house to be sold. The parents moved to a residential hotel in Bayswater, where Arthur could walk in the park. Isabelle stayed with him for appearance’s sake, but complained whenever one of the children visited.
“The thought that an unsatisfactory husband was better than none (there were widows in the hotel who actually envied her), the need for a scapegoat on which to vent her spleen, the force of habit and the realisation now that it was too late for her to strike out on her own – all made for a continuance of their life together. The deadlock was complete. Sooner or later, one or the other would crack. The dénouement came as a surprise to all.”
A travelling life
Arthur proposed travelling to warmer climes, buying a car and taking to the road.
“Arthur now revealed a hitherto unexpected side of his nature. He turned out to be that rare animal – the born traveller: one who genuinely preferred travelling to remaining in one place. He had always been drawn towards the unfamiliar and had never much minded discomfort. Now at last he could indulge his excessive curiosity, his love in collecting promiscuous information, his insatiable interest in the bizarre. He had the bird’s-eye view of the countries through which he ranged. All was a perpetual sort of diversion. […] He was no culture vulture, but a bird of passage, here today and gone tomorrow, travelling for travelling’s sake.
He was enchanted, too, with the casual social contacts provided along the way. A few sentences exchanged with a fellow wayfarer, a few stumbling words (dictionary in hand) with a native did not tax his powers in the way that sustained intercourse did. He need make no effort to get to know the object of his curiosity. What he would have discovered at close range he never knew, for they were no sooner known than lost. They remained a mysterious and diverting memory. He did not want to know more. Isabel had no chance to protest at his reluctance for close acquaintance, for they must be moving on again, lest he take to his bed.”
They visited Italy, Yugoslavia, Romania, Hungary, Austria, Switzerland, Germany, the Low Countries, France, Spain, Portugal.
Adventures in Europe
In addition to the normal traveller’s tales, they had some adventures. Once they were picnicking in the French Alps when they caught sight of someone skulking behind a rock. It turned out to be an eighteen-year-old German-speaking conscript from South Tyrol (then part of Italy) who had deserted when he was posted to Abyssinia. He had escaped to France over the Alps, leaving his gun and a suicide note beside the River Po. In fact, he ‘did a Reggie Perrin’. Arthur put on his organising hat, bought him clothes and enquired what would happen to Italian deserters. As there was strong anti-Italian feeling in France due to Mussolini, they gave him a passe-partout allowing him to travel through France, though no work permit due to the lack of jobs. He was unwelcome in Luxembourg, so they drove him to Germany where he was given work as a farm labourer. He continued to live there happily and sent Christmas cards until the outbreak of the Second World War. Leaving him there, Arthur and Isabelle then travelled to his remote mountain village to tell his parents in secret that he was alive and well.
On another occasion Arthur met an anti-Nazi who wanted to move to Canada to live with his son, but wasn’t allowed to take his money with him. Arthur found the solution: the man handed the money to him when he boarded the ship in Hamburg, and Arthur smuggled money out of the docks in his shoes, with diamonds concealed in his wallet, then presumably sent them on from a safe place. Hitler was already demanding people address him with ‘Heil Hitler’.
Travelling the world
With the places left to go in Europe becoming fewer and fewer, they headed for Scandinavia, then Africa. That was a bit much for them, so they decided to visit Edmund, who was now living in San Francisco. Again, the distances were too great for Isabelle, but Arthur adored the people, the innovation, the food. He decided to take up cookery, intrigued by the new food names. This gave them an opportunity to settle for a while.
Given Arthur didn’t really make close friends, I was intrigued to read that they stopped in Pasadena to visit the author and politician Upton Sinclair, with whom Arthur had corresponded for several years. Why? About what? Sadly, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know, but Sinclair was a socialist and his novels were about industrialisation in the United States from the point of view of the owners and the workers (including King Coal), so I suspect that was their common point of interest.
They rented a house where Arthur could indulge his newfound love of cooking. Now Isabelle had even less to do at home and her social life was curtailed as she failed to make friends. Her insomnia was also atrocious and eventually she tried to commit suicide. After she recovered, they started travelling again, visiting Salt Lake City. “Polygamy practised righteously and with Divine sanction. Wonderful, that! D’you know that fellow Brigham Young, the apostle of the prophet Smith, died leaving 17 wives and 147 children. Not bad. They were a brave lot,’ he added ambiguously.”
They also visited Niagara Falls. Reading the description, it felt peculiar until I realised that they were viewing it from the US side whereas the Niagara in my head is seen from the Canadian side. Isabelle claimed one of her forefathers went over the falls in a barrel; Arthur maddeningly corrects her; it was her second cousin once removed. I wondered if this was Matthew Webb, who died in an attempt to swim the Whirlpool Rapids below the falls. I’d never heard that before, though I knew he was the first man to swim the English Channel. Fascinating fact: approximately 5,000 bodies were found at the foot of the falls between 1850 and 2011.
At home with Lucy: WWII
The description of Lucy’s home in the country reminds me of Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle, a half-ruined castle in Suffolk. It’s one of my half-read books; I’ll have to shoehorn it into my reading ‘plan’ somehow. Lucy’s house “was the gatehouse of an early fourteenth-century castle which had figured heroically in the Civil War, after which the greater part had been blown up on Cromwell’s orders. The gatehouse was left intact. It was approached by a fixed bridge over the moat. The gatehouse itself was a perfect miniature castle, the top floor being one wholly magnificent room approached by spiral stone staircases.” It was also freezing cold.
A full house. In addition to the family, there were a succession of nannies, two Austrian refugees, who supposedly replaced the cook and house parlour maid, but did nothing but eat, an Italian gardener (who also turned out to be a trained chef, rather fortuitously) and evacuees who came from a convent school for dockers’ daughters (of all things). The Austrians were eventually removed by the Home Office. They had to remain within a 5-mile radius unless they had a special permit with a recent photo, but there was no photographer within a 5-mile radius: stalemate.
Reading about the progression of war from England and Arthur and Lucy’s reactions is fascinating. The Phoney War, Arthur’s admiration for Churchill, the evacuation of Dunkirk, the fear of invasion, the Home Guard in the village, armed only with farmer White’s rook gun, the church bell silenced, signposts removed and locals unwilling to give directions or deliberately sending people in the wrong direction, just in case they were spies. The British scuttled the entire French fleet all over the world (Oran, Alexandria, Dakar) so their vessels couldn’t be used by enemy forces. This is the same period I read about in Leslie Thomas’ The Dearest and the Best (20 Books of Summer – still to review) and it’s fascinating to see the parallels.
Isabelle, meanwhile, was in London. She had insisted on taking first aid training and during the Blitz worked at a casualty station and worked as a nurse on ambulances taking air-raid victims to hospitals in the countryside. Just when they thought that things were looking hopeful and Lucy was considering moving back to London so that her daughter Frances could start school, the Germans started sending over doodlebugs. Isabelle was paralysed by sheer terror.
One of the wartime events mentioned was that Germany invaded Russia along its whole border from Finland to the Black Sea, without warning or ultimatum, at 3.30 in the morning. “Hitler issued a proclamation accusing them of aggression… Jewish-Bolshevist conspiracy… the usual stuff”, says Arthur.
I’m not sure if the book petered out here. More likely is that I didn’t take any more notes and went off to read what I could find on the internet. It has to be said I found this book absolutely fascinating, covering a period I know little about and illuminating life in a certain class of people in the first half of the 20th century, marrying both domestic and work life. As the author (Lucy in the book) had worked so closely with her father, she was lucky to have gained insight into both aspects of her father’s life. In fact, it is her mother, ‘Isabelle’, who emerges as equally if not more unreasonable than her husband.
I suspect it would be possible to find far more about this family. In fact, a biography of ‘Isabelle’ has been published, Prepared for the Twentieth Century: The Life of Emily Bonnycastle Mayne (Aimee) 1872-1958 by Michael Armstrong Crouch , which is also available as a Google Book at great expense or can be downloaded. It describes her as an educated woman, restricted by her milieu and expectations of women during her lifetime.
General information about the Mayne family and about Arthur Mayne and Emily Bonnycastle Mayne can be found on the Bonnycastle geneaology site, showing the true names of their children: Margaret Lucy Mayne, Edward Bonnycastle Mayne, Helen Mary Mayne, Archibald Collier Mayne and Isabel Aimee Mayne.