Several months after Giblin died, his sister Edith asked: ‘Is Copland writing a life? I have almost everything Lynd wrote me while he was away – Klondyke-England –War’ (NLA LFG:EMG 21 May 1951). What she could offer a biographer was massive. Giblin was addicted to letter-writing, of all sorts: letters to family, to friends, almost daily letters to his wife; letters to the editor;[27] follow-up letters; letters with codicils; carefully composed, but never sent letters.
To his elder sister, Edith, he wrote more, and more devotedly, than to any other person. His first letter is to her, on the occasion of a visit to the mainland.
Dear Edith
Did you like Sydney or Melbourne best? Are there many good buildings in Sydney. I thought a couple of days ago that you would not be able to go to Sydney, which would have been awful for you.
The Hutchins School are going to give an entertainment of gymnasium and exercises to parents and friends. Mr and Mrs Justice Giblin & family are invited. We are dreadfully disappointed, Miss E. Giblin, or at least I am, that you will not be there to witness my intended brilliant performance. (RBA LFG 13 June 1885).
In his young adulthood his animated, blithe, copious letters to Edith reveal a wish to share with her his world – and his enjoyment of it. And her own wish for him to share it. He provides minute descriptions on the cityscape of Cambridge. He describes his friendships about which she wishes to learn.
The appearance of Eilean in 1917 created a new correspondent. When they were apart – which was often – he wrote frequently. His letters to her are briefings, extensive and interested. From the front in 1918 he wrote:
There are queer stories of insubordination among Tommy units going about. One is credibly reported by one of our fellows who was at Harvre at the time. Food very short, complaints, promises to make it better; that evening only a biscuit to eat, and the crowd gathered to protest – 2 Tommy battalions concerned. Second in command addressed men, and has his face cut open with a jam tin, and stuff flew about. A big N.C.O. got up to protect the officer, offered to take on anyone, and he was kicked to death, and cheers followed. There were over 30 killed altogether and finally Australians were turned out to clear up the row, which apparently they did.[28]
His letters to Eilean avoid the bouts of reflection and the minuting of to-and-fro, written to Edith. They also lack the gaiety of those of his earlier life. Perhaps Eilean was not a good foil for blithe spirits. Or had his life lost some joy?
There was a third category of correspondent: youths and young men.
Giblin devoted considerable time to the ‘pastoral care’ of boys. He was a member of Legacy. He had frequent associations with boys’ schools, especially Geelong Grammar[29] and Canberra Grammar School. On his 70th birthday he received a gift from one boy, ‘Michael’, stricken by rheumatic fever, and bed-ridden for over a year – a pipe.
This sort of association generated a correspondence on several occasions. The correspondents were often the sons of Giblin’s academic peers and colleagues. One example is Paul Unwin, a son of Ernest Unwin who arrived in 1923 to be Headmaster of the Friends School at Hobart.
The first letter on file reveals Paul already full of trust and attachment to Giblin.
I have grown some this term, and am now 5 foot 5 inches high and I weigh 9 stone 9 to 10lbs; is this too much?
Some time later:
I am so glad that you have decided to visit us these holidays … I will be thirteen when I see you next, so get some work for me to do at the Beach on the farm, or I shall become a newsense [sic].
At about this time Giblin sent Unwin a copy of the freshly published Enquiry.
31/7/29
Dear Mr Giblin
Thanks for the Tariff book you sent me. It will come in very well to put in my library, even if I never read it right through until I am old man with white locks.
Long before his adulthood, questions of later dilemmas loomed in Paul’s mind.
10.30am 29/9/29
Dear Mr Giblin
I am sorry to trouble you but as you teach in Melbourne University could you let me know what [are] the conditions of compulsory military service there? Being a quaker I am entirely against, as all our denomination, Compulsory Military Training and for that I am practically debarred from Sydney University.
Perhaps a career in forestry might evade military training? Giblin gave him some preparation.
Paul did very well. Ran about lightly with a 25lb swag and was always ready for more. We had three good wettings – one with a very wearisome spell of 3 hours soaked through over long button grass.
Giblin wrote to the Tasmanian Forestry Commission to recommend Unwin as a trainee. ‘I feel sure that you will find him a very satisfactory investment’. Giblin knew what he was talking about. Unwin was made a trainee, and in 1971 was appointed Chief Commissioner of Forests.
Having begun with open letters to the throng, we can conclude with one letter which was only ever seen by the author’s eyes. On his return from Cambridge in 1938 Giblin wrote, but never sent, the following letter.
Dear Morgan Forster
This impertinence springs from your Henry Thornton article, which like all you write nestles in my mind as very little contemporary stuff does. It’s a queer family in which you are for me a member – the saga, Hamlet and the sonnets, some of Miss Austen and a good deal of Meredith, the later Beethoven and the 4th Symphony of Sibelius.
You may just have heard my name. I spent most of last spring and summer at King’s: they very amiably made me a supernumerary fellow. In visiting England and Cambridge, I had rather counted on meeting you, and Wedd was confident you would be sometime in Cambridge. In default, I even thought of invading your Surrey fastness, but a sense of decency was reinforced by lack of time at the last. Still, I would like to tell you baldly – and leave it at that – how pre-eminently you have been my refreshment these last 30 years …
That’s all and more than enough. It is in fact my first offence of this kind in 66 years. Call it dotage. It will harmonise with second childhood if I adopt the small boy’s friendly ending – Love.
L. F. Giblin