The Henson Journals

[38]

Tuesday, August 15th, 1922.

The day was dull and threatening at the start: rain began to fall about noon, and the latter part of our journey to Miss Maxwell's house near Houston was effected in a deluge. I left Blairquhan with regret, taking with me a pleasant recollection of hospitality, and a sincere regard for mine host. We lunched at Fairlie with Dorothy Parker. Bobbie Bruce was there with his wife Kitty. The latter is a small pretty person, with some pretensions to intelligence & literary power. Her first novel has been accepted by Heinemann, & will immediately appear. Major Meade Waldo, Dorothy's brother, was also there, a quiet thoughtful man with an hereditary interest in birds & beasts. He told me that the mongoose, imported into Jamaica to destroy the snakes, had multiplied rapidly, and almost exterminated all the game–birds in the island. We discussed the War, and both Bobbie & Meade Waldo confirmed General Pollok–Morris's statement as to the self–inflicted injuries of our soldiers in 1918. The quality of the men sent out from England at the end of the War seems to have been deplorable. Dorothy went off to attend the wedding of a Newcastle Professor, Haworth, and we continued our journey to Houston, where we arrived about 5 p.m. Daragaval is situated nor far from Barochan. It is a house of some antiquity, a portion of it being ascribed to the 16th century.

[39]

Two events fill the newspapers this morning – Lord Northcliffe's death and the breaking up of the conference on German Reparations. There is a curious congruity in the coincidence, for the most strenuous and certainly the most indiscriminating and unscrupulous advocate of French policy in this country was Lord Northcliffe. His disappearance ought to ease the situation, for it can hardly be possible that his influence will survive him. Whether he be judged as a journalist or as a politician, the verdict of a considering and patriotic Englishman must needs be unfavourable. He represented two of the most sinister tendencies of our time – the power of money in journalism and the willingness of the press to "cater for" the vulgarest preferences of the public. He degraded the popular taste which he reflected. Having made great wealth he essayed to use it as an instrument for acquiring political influence. He carried into politics, national and international, the methods of the Transatlantick journalist. He exorbitant vanity submerged his patriotism, and blotted out all sense of proportion. His quarrel with the Prime Minister took shape in his mind as a conflict of first principles, and carried him into procedures which might not unfairly be described as treasonable, for he set himself to counteract and defeat the policy of his own country. I regret deeply that he was allowed to make the restoration of Westminster Abbey a journalistic achievement.

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