RICHARD SCHLATTER
607
Thucydides and Hobbes. Years later I edi ted an edition of Hobbes's
translation of Thucydides with an introductory essay examining the
tough rigor with which they both cut through naive moralistic notions
of the political process. Their recognition of the ironies of history-the
difference between what the actors thought they were achieving and the
actual outcome, the hypocrisi es of politics but also the genuinely noble
stances which unwittingly conceal a parochial self-interest-fascinated
me. Perhaps this prepared me for Marxist interpretations of contem–
porary history when I came to them later. Marxist analysis seemed to
combine the realism of Thucydides and Hobbes (and Machiavelli
whom I read at Oxford) with a fervent moral commitment which was
not delusory because it recognized the limits of historical possibility.
Communist theory seemed to be the application to the present of the
kind of touch-mindedness which a good historian must apply to the
past. And the delight which I took in Hobbesian irony coupled with
the incipient radicalism which I brought with me to Harvard, made
me, perhaps, less credulous about the splendors of that place than I
now recall. At least one friend from those days thinks I was much more
critical of H arvard than I have remembered and suggests that I have
adopted in this sketch a
faux naif
tone as a protective device.
I graduated in
1934,
and Goodwin, Boorstin and I won Rhodes
Scholarships and began a three year stay at Oxford-a marvellous
continuation of the previous four years but now in the homeland of
Anglo-American culture. Oxford, we decided, although exciting, was
not quite up to Harvard. Luxurious living again-I had a bed room
and sitting room in Merton-no bathroom, but a man brought me
breakfast every morning and served elegant luncheon parties in my
rooms on occasion. Again, I had famous lecturers and tutors: Colling–
wood, G.N. Clark, R.H. Tawney (a frequent visitor at Oxford ), G.D.H.
Cole. I had Clark and Tawney as my thesis advisors for the D. Phil.
The Rhodes stipends were princely, and we had money to go to the
Continent frequently. We all read books on art and visited museums,
palaces, churches, and ancient towns. We spent a lot of time in
Germany and heard a lot of Wagner and Mozart.
It
was a marvelous
continuation of the life of Harvard, and these seven years from
1930-1937
glow now in my memory as a golden age. But Oxford added
something; it was there that I became a Communist.
Goodwin and I spent the summer of
1934,
before going to Oxford,
bicycling in Germany. I knew nothing about Hitl er and I did not learn
much that summer, although I had an ardent and personable young
Brown Shirt for a language tutor in Heidelberg. I knew hardly more
