The Henson Journals

[667]

Septuagesima, February 20th, 1916.

566th day

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A white frost giving everything an aspect of winter, but bright & beautiful. Poole celebrated, rather slowly but with reverence. I communicated, and ministered the consecrated Bread. I preached to the soldiers at 10 a.m.: but there was much coughing from the grammar–school cadets. For my text I took the opening verse of Genesis, & added the sentence about the creation of man in God's image. The men seemed to be attentive. After Mattins, when L. preached a very conventional sermon (filled with those pietistic phrases, which Robertson called "sickening cant") the Bishop of Jarrow & I walked for nearly an hour.

A stranger, the Rev. Harold E. Bucke, writes to me the following:–

"In a delightful chat I once had with Robertson's son, Charles Boyd Robinson, he told me that on one occasion the whole of the then Cabinet Ministry came down to Brighton for the week–end in order to hear his father preach."

I suspect that this is an unintentional exaggeration, based perhaps on a misapprehension. If some Cabinet ministers happened to be present, it would be the most natural thing in the world for some one [sic], perhaps the Preacher himself, to say "We had the whole Cabinet here this morning". Charles Boyd Robertson was still a small boy when his father died.

Olive writes from her hospital about the wounded soldiers.

"The hardships & horrors through which the men have past seem without exception to soften the older men, & harden the young ones. It is very seldom that they will talk of their experiences, and only when they are alone with you, & it just makes you hate yourself because you can't do more for them."

I attended Evensong in the Cathedral.

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