The Henson Journals

[65]

Trinity Sunday, June 3rd, 1917.

1035th day

Thirty years of the Christian ministry, and nothing much to show for it. I think the transformation of the Church of England is even greater than the transformation of myself! The two processes move in opposite directions, so that between myself and the Church a gulf widens. Who can be judge in his own cause? I think the Church of England is on a course which must lead to disestablishment and disruption, a denoûment of ecclesiastical suicide. My embarrassments spring in part, in greater part than I can know, from my own faults. These, hardening into habits, have, perhaps, attained a kind of vested right, & seem even legitimate! In part, I share, of necessity, the troubles of the time. A Christian Minister must needs feel more acutely than others the paralysis & discredit which have befallen Christianity. If the system of the National Church be anachronistic and unpopular, none is likely to have the fact more painfully pressed on him than a Dean of Durham. I arrived at S. Andrew's, Wells Street, while the choral celebration was proceeding, so I went into the Vicarage & waited until it was time for Mattins. One of the curates of All Saints, Margaret Street, sang the service; K read the lessons; & I preached the sermon, "Jeremiah's Golden Sword" , which has been preached in Windsor Castle, in S. George's, Newcastle, in Glasgow Cathedral, & in Leeds Parish Church. The congregation filled the floor of the Church, & was thinly scattered in the gallery. K. told me that some members of his flock refused to hear the Dean of Durham preach, & one or two did leave the church rather ostentatiously when I mounted the pulpit. However the sermon was very attentively listened to. I celebrated the Holy Communion, and K. served. Hugh Lyon came into the vestry after Mattins, & exchanged a few words in the brief interval between the services. I lunched with the Knights; K. was good enough to escort me to the Opera House in Kingsway.

[66] [symbol]

The Thanksgiving Service for the Battle of Jutland attracted an immense crowd, which filled the Opera House from floor to roof, and overflowed into the Wesleyan Hall on the opposite side of the street. The Bishop of Willesden presided: and after prayer by a Canadian Chaplain, & a lesson read by Fleming, the American Vice–Admiral Sims made a short speech, & then I spoke for half an hour. Sims & I were immediately hustled across the road to the overflow meeting, where we both spoke again. Then after a search for my hat & umbrella, and exchanging some words with Mrs Cornwall, the boy–hero's mother, (a rather formidable lady of the type which contributes an element of humour to the proceedings of the police courts!) and her friend, Mrs Freeman, who hailed from a slum in Barking, & wished to renew acquaintance with her former vicar!! I tried to find my way to Linetta's house, but failed to get there. The address which I had noted, 15 Buckingham Gate, did not know her! So I walked to the Athenaeum & had tea there. Bailey, the Shakespearian lecturer, was in the Club, & disposed to talk. He said that Sir George Buchanan warned the Tsar of the revolution – "Give me leave to say, Sir, that you seem to be like a blind man on the verge of a precipice. In a few days, I fear you may be over the verge" – "You don't know Russia" was the Tsar's reply. After writing to Ella, & sending her the notes of my speech, I walked back to the Deanery by way of the Embankment. The evening was beautifully fine, & the river looked its best. I was impressed by the large number of people 'taking the air' during church–time, who had the appearance of those whom we generally associate with church–going. But the secularizing fashion has come in like a flood, & carries all before it! Linetta, disappointed at my failure to appear, had telephoned to the Opera House, & to the Deanery, & finally appeared herself at the latter, & so ran me to earth when I arrived a little before supper–time. I was very tired, & went to bed as soon as I cd decently get away from the company.

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