The Henson Journals

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Saturday, November 9th 1912. Boston.

The Bishop sent me in to Appleton Chapel by the motor: and I conducted prayers there, giving a little discourse on 'Friendship' to the youth. Then I went across to Wadsworth House, and there kept vigil, having no visitors save one of the Divinity professors, who talked about Armitage Robinson and my late host, Edward Moore, to whom I offer felicitations on his silver wedding.

Wadsworth House has an interest of its own, having been occupied by General George Washington from July 3rd to July 15th 1775. It is a good specimen of the old wooden colonial house, & would be comfortable enough if it did not abut on the street & get the full disadvantage of the street noises. I wrote to my godson, Gilbert.

The Divinity Professor talked of Figgis, who gave the 'Noble' lectures last year, on "Christianity at the Cross–Roads". I inquired how he had succeeded. Not at all, he replied. He denounced the existing situation of civilized men in a very intemperate way. 'That is how I think I used to speak when I was 23’ – observed one of his hearers. Then he created disgust by dwelling on the great sacrifices he had himself made in becoming a Mirfield Father. His plump & comfortable aspect, & his situation as a student residing in a pleasant Yorkshire village among books, seemed to render such emphasis unreal, & even not a little absurd.

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We (i.e. the Bishop, Ella, & I) lunched with the 'Twentieth Century Club' – a wonderful collection of 'progressive' reformers which reminded me of Lake Mohonk. I made a speech about the situation in the Balkans, which clearly did not match the general sentiment of an audience mainly composed of 'peace fanaticks'. I was followed by Mr McAll (?) a fine–looking &, I was assured, an honourable man who spoke on the Panama Canal with good sense & good feeling. Then came an astonishing person named Thompson, the secretary of the rivers & harbours commission, or something of that sort. He poured forth a stream of figures to illustrate the cheapness & potential value of water–transit, & wound up with an amazing peroration in which America, resistless in power, and & over–flowing with money, wd dictate peace to the warring nations of the world! It was an entirely Transatlantick performance, not to be paralleled in Great Britain.

After this feast of eloquence in an asphyxiating atmosphere we needed some fresh air, so the Bishop motored me out to a new house he is building near Milton, a place renowned for the manufacture of chocolate. We had tea with the Bishop's sister who lives hard by, & then returned, picking up Freddie the Bishop's school boy son on the way. We returned to the house about 6 p.m: & I set to making some preparation for tomorrow.

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