The Henson Journals

[317]

Thursday, September 14th, 1911. Bremen.

How happy is he born and taught

That serveth not another’s will;

Whose armour is his honest thought,

And simple truth his utmost skill!

Whose passions not his masters are;

Whose soul is still prepared for death,

Untied unto the world by care

Of public fame or private breath;

Who envies none that chance doth raise,

Nor vice; who never understood

How deepest wounds are given by praise;

Nor rules of state, but rules of good;

Who hath his life from rumours freed;

Whose conscience is his strong retreat;

Whose state can neither flatterers feed,

Nor ruin make oppressors great;

Who God doth late & early pray

More of His grace than gifts to lend;

And entertains the harmless day

With a religious book or friend;

[318]

This man is freed from servile bands

Of hope to rise or fear to fall:

Lord of himself, though not of lands,

And having nothing, yet hath all.

179. Sir Henry Wotton. 1586–1639.

These reflections may be consoling, but they cannot wholely [sic] screen the philosopher's total failure to have any influence on the course of events, nor wholly relieve him from responsibility for the consequences thereof. Nor, perhaps, are they to be relieved from the charge of self–centredness. For, after all, the Alpha & Omega of a self–respecting human life can hardly be so stated. There must enter into it some concern with the life of one's contemporaries, some interest in the movements of one's epoch. Nor, indeed, save in very exceptional circumstances could one find satisfaction in a theory of life which assumes that one has no natural & proper desire to win the approbation of others, & to do them service.

The morning opened dully, introducing a wet day. After breakfast we walked to the Rathouse, & saw the large hall, adorned with frescoes, carving, & models of ships. It is an impressive & suggestive sight, worthy of an ancient Hanseatic city. Then we visited the cathedral, & were shown the Bleikeller where are the shrivelled corpses of persons buried centuries ago. The preserving qualities of the place are still [319] illustrated by the parched corpses of cats & fowls. There is in the Cathedral a bronze 12th century font & some early 16th century reliefs. The building is oppressively dark. Thanks to the modern painted windows. We returned to the Hôtel & paid our reckoning. Then came away from Bremen by the 11.27 a.m. express for Cologne. At Osnaburgh there was a pause of 25 minutes (1.13–1.38) which we utilized by getting lunch – a substantial meal with a flask of wine for 3 marks. A fat German next me ate with such ferocious voracity, & so largely, that, in satisfying his appetite, he destroyed mine! We reached Cologne at 5.48 p.m.: & at once made our way to the Hôtel du Nord, where we secured two rooms on the third floor which overlooked the garden, & were comparatively quiet. We had a good but not inexpensive dinner, & then went out into the town. The immense cathedral, half scene [sic] in the darkness, had an awe–inspiring appearance. Its colossal dimensions are thus most adequately realized.

I picked up the 'Times' in the Hotel, & saw the announcement of the death of Archbishop Alexander, lately the Primate of Ireland. He once paid me the great compliment ater hearing a sermon which I preached in St Margaret's on the occasion of the Thanksgiving for the King's recovery – that I was "Liddon at his best". But he was an Irishman, & I am not as Liddon whether for good or for evil.

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