That surnmer, the grandmothers, fearing a fresh outbreak of predatory girls, despatched William and Matthew on the grand tour of Europe, which turned out to be a great success for both of them. Matthew, surmounting all language barriers, found a beautiful girl in every major European capital - love, he assured William, was an international commodity.

William secured introductions to a director of most of the major European banks - money, he assured Matthew, was also an international commodity.

From London to Berlin to Rome, the two young men left a trail of broken hearts and suitably impressed bankers. When they retumed to Harvard in September, they were both ready to hit the books for their final year.

In the bitter winter of 1927, Grandmother Kane died, aged eighty - five, and William wept for the first time since his mothees death.

'Come on,' said Matthew, after bearing with Wiffiam!s depression for several days. 'She had a good run and waited a long time to find out whether God was a Cabot or a Lowell.'

William missed the shrewd words he had so little appreciated in his grandmother's lifetime, and he arTanged a funeral which she would have been proud to attend. Al. though the great lady arrived at the cemetery in a black Packard hearse ('One of those new - fangled contraptions - over my dead body', but, as it turned out, under it), this unsound mode of transport would have been her only criticism of William's orchestration of her departure. Her death drove William to work with ever more purpose during that final year at Harvard. He dedicated himself to winning the tx)p mathematics prize in her memory, Grandmother Cabot died some six months later, probably, said Wiffiam~ because there was no one left for her to talk to.

In February 1928, William received a visit from the captain of the Debating Team. There was to be a full - dress debate the following month on the motion 'Socialism or Capitalism for America's Future', and William was naturally asked to represent capitalism.

'And what if I told you I was only willing to speak on behalf of the downtrodden masses?' William inquired of the surprised captain, slightly nettled by the thought that his intellectual views were simply assumed by outsiders because he had inherited a famous name and a prosperous bank.

. 'Well, I must say, William, we did imagine your own preference would be for, er . . .'

'It is, I accept your invitation. I take it that I am at liberty to select my partner?'

'Naturally.'

'Good,'then I choose Matthew Lester. May I know who our opponents will be?'

'You will not be informed until the day before, when the posters go up in the Yard.'

For the next month Matthew and William turned their breakfast critiques of the newspapers of the left and right, and their nightly discussions about the meaning of life, into strategy sessions for what the campus was beginning to call 'The Great Debate'. William decided that Matthew should lead off.

As the fateful day approached, it became clear that most of the politically aware students, professors, and even some Boston and Cambridge notables would be attending. On the morning before the debate they walked over to the Yard to discover who their opposition would be.

Teland Crosby and Thaddeus Cohen, Either name ring a bell with you, William? Crosby must be one of the Philadelphia Crosby's, I suppose!

course he is. "The Red Maniac of Rittenhouse 'quare" as his own aunt once described him so accurately.. He's the most convincing revolutionary on campus. He's loaded, and he spends all his money on the popular radical causes. I can hear his opening now!

William parodied Crosby's grating tone. 'I know at first hand the rapacity and the utter lack of social conscience of the American monied class.' If everyone in the audience hasn't heard that fifty times already, I'd say he'll make a formidable opponent!

'And Thaddeus Cohen?'

'Never heard of him.'

The following evening, refusing to admit to stage fright, they made their way through the snow and cold wind, heavy overcoats flapping behind them, past the gleaming columns of the recently completed Widener Library - like William's father, the donor's son had gone down on the Titanic - to Boylston Hall.

'With weather like this, at least if we take a beating there won't be many to tell the tale,' said Matthew hopefully.

But as they rounded the side of the library, they could see a steady strewn of stamping, huffing figures ascending the stairs and filing into the hall. Inside, they were shown to chairs on the podium. William sat still but his eyes picked out the people he knew in the audience: President Lowell, sitting discreetly in the middle row; ancient old Newbury St. John, Professor of Botany; a pair of Brattle Street blue - stockings he recognisitd from Red House parties; and to his right, a group of Bohemian - looking young men and women, some not even wearing ties, who turned and started to clap as their spokesmen - Crosby and Cohen - walked on to the stage, Crosby was the more striking of the two, tall and thin almost to the point of caricature, dressed absent - mindedly - or very carefully - in a shaggy tweed suit, but with a stiffly pressed shirt, and dangling a pipe with no apparent connection to his body except at his lower lip. Thaddeus Cohen was shorter and wore rimless glasses and an almost too per - fectly - cut, dark worsted suit The four speakers shook hands cautiously as the last minute arrangements were made. The bells of Memorial Churr,14 only a hundred feet away, sounded vague and distant as they rang out seven times.