The Henson Journals

[20]

23rd Sunday after Trinity, October 30th, 1921.

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Just a year ago I was enthroned in Durham cathedral with much pomp and public congratulation. What has the year's experience disclosed? What revisions of opinion has it compelled in the people about me, and in me about the people? It has been a difficult and troubled year throughout, and it leaves me at the end more perplexed & embarrassed than ever. Still there is much, very much, to thank God for; and I am thankful. The glorious sunset of last night is followed by a calm & brilliant morning, also very comforting to the spirit.

Clayton celebrated the Holy Communion in the chapel at 3 a.m. I sat in my stall, but did not communicate. The epistle just utters my thoughts about these quarrelling people at Birtley – "many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the Cross of Christ". The difficulty about settling these parochial conflicts occasioned by the "catholicising" procedures of the clergy is that the 'aggrieved parishioners' have got a really strong case, which makes it extraordinarily – hard to bring their consciences into action on the side of mutual forbearance and goodwill. Why should they have to give way to the parson when the Bishop himself has to admit that on the specific principle in dispute the parson is breaking the law? The issue of justice is raised, and that issue always has primary importance for normal Englishmen. If, in deference to the Bishop's influence or direct appeal, they give way, they retain the sense of injury, and, therefore, the reconciliation to which they may yield a reluctant assent has no promise of permanence. It is more than 3 weeks since I had the meeting with the Parochial Church Council at Birtley, and much turns on the way in which that interval has been used (Ella, Fearne, & Clayton accompanied me to Birtley. An attack of lumbago developed on the way, & caused me much inconvenience. There was a large congregation, which included a number of Buffaloes). I preached & celebrated the Holy Communion. There were more than 100 communicants, including the hostile churchwarden, who collected the offertory, & counted it afterwards. It looked well, but one dare not trust appearances. After service we went to Lumley Castle, & lunched there. The Princess was there, & the Ravensworths.

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From Lumley Castle we motored to West Rainton Vicarage, where I had an interview with the parson, Rawlins, on the subject of the day school, which is in danger of being lost by his stiff–necked bigotry.

Then we went on to Belmont Vicarage where we called on Maish, who seems to have settled down to his parochial work happily, though he finds the task of producing two sermons every week rather trying. It was the strain of the indispensable preaching which, perhaps more than anything else, caused the lamentable break–down of the new Vicar of Pittington. From Belmont we returned to Auckland, where I read through rapidly Lord Esher's book, "The Tragedy of Lord Kitchener". The essence of the tragedy lay in his knowledge that his enormous popular reputation was not really justified by his abilities. He came on the scene too late for his distinctive powers to tell adequately on the conduct of affairs, and his methods, shaped by long contact with Eastern and semi–civilized peoples, were unsuited for the men with whom in the Great War he had to work. That there is much truth in all this must be admitted, but none the less [sic] it remains true that Kitchener rendered service which was absolutely indispensable, and which none but he could render. This being so, how can one fitly speak in connexion with him of tragedy? The lumbago being persistent, I resolved to postpone my visit to Birchington, which had been arranged for tomorrow, took a hot bath, and went to bed. The "sheath", as Gordon was wont to call his body, is a treacherous instrument, and disturbs one's plans with little regard for one's convenience!

[I was amused at the flamboyant Royalism of the Princess's conversation. She has considerable information, and likes to display it, but most of it is not very good, and all coloured by the extremist Toryism. Our talk turning on English sovereigns, she professed the greatest admiration for Charles II, and the greatest contempt for Oliver Cromwell. I could not restrain myself from observing that Charles was not only, as everybody admitted, a very debased profligate, but also he was a traitor to his own people, for he sold them privily to Louis XIV. H. H. did not quite like that.]

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