Letter from Abroad

For years I had found it safe to assume that Alistair Horne knows everything. I came to know this soon after, virtual strangers, we found ourselves assigned to the same room at boarding school, many long years ago, and I learned that he could fix my contraband radio, correct my geometry, and win the current affairs quiz sponsored by Time magazine. Alistair, who had been sent to America along with so many other English boys and girls to pursue their education beyond the reach of Hitler’s bombers, had not, in the three years he had spent away from home, changed his ways, and so he greeted me with the formality which English boys tend to show to each other on limited acquaintance. I had myself been to school in England, and was prepared to respond in kind: in England, even at a very young age, it is not assumed that the commnon experience of being at the same school at the same time automatically makes for total familiarity. Friendship is selective, and the process of it most often (though not always) slow. It is proper to respect the privacy of fellow students, even those with whom one shares a wash-basin.

The friendship that grew between us evolved organically, spans a large ocean, and many political differences, and is solid as a tree. That friendship, which was instantly and spontaneously extended to the lovely woman he married, my wife and I count among our prime assets.

About the Author

William F. Buckley Jr.

William F. Buckley Jr. founded National Review magazine in 1955.

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For years I had found it safe to assume that Alistair Horne knows everything. I came to know this soon after, virtual strangers, we found ourselves assigned to the same room at boarding school, many long years ago, and I learned that he could fix my contraband radio, correct my geometry, and win the current affairs quiz sponsored by Time magazine. Alistair, who had been sent to America along with so many other English boys and girls to pursue their education beyond the reach of Hitler’s bombers, had not, in the three years he had spent away from home, changed his ways, and so he greeted me with the formality which English boys tend to show to each other on limited acquaintance. I had myself been to school in England, and was prepared to respond in kind: in England, even at a very young age, it is not assumed that the commnon experience of being at the same school at the same time automatically makes for total familiarity. Friendship is selective, and the process of it most often (though not always) slow. It is proper to respect the privacy of fellow students, even those with whom one shares a wash-basin.

The friendship that grew between us evolved organically, spans a large ocean, and many political differences, and is solid as a tree. That friendship, which was instantly and spontaneously extended to the lovely woman he married, my wife and I count among our prime assets.