The Henson Journals

[61]

Wednesday, August 23rd, 1922.

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[^written in Greek, Matthew 21:19–22^]

It is impossible to read the narrative of the blasting of the fig–tree as record of fact. The incident itself is too trivial: the temper disclosed too petulant: the moral deduced too crudely obvious. These echo Rabbinism through the evangelist: the authentic mind of Jesus did not express itself so. But if it be read as a parable, somewhat confused in form, for it appears elsewhere in another shape, yet preserving phrases which did fall from the Lips of Jesus, it has great value. The cry of the onlookers as they behold so promising a tree disappointing all hopes of fruit, and dying away prematurely, has its echo in the observations which inevitably rise in the mind, & find utterance by the tongue, when we encounter the spectacle, alas! too common, of bright young men, who seem surely destined to high success in life, and who have definitely "done nothing" with themselves, and are now a problem for their friends. How soon is the fig tree withered away! When one reviews one's own life, and, at 60, one can hardly deny the duty or avoid the task, looks back at one's earlier life, setting side by side what one then designed and dreamed and thought one's self able to do, & what has actually come of all the plans and dreams, the same sad commentary expresses the shame & wonder of the difference – [^written in Greek, Matthew 21:19–22^]

[62]

A bright morning, too bright to allow of much confidence, but so bright as to transfigure the gloomy & humid landscapes of yesterday into scenes of bewitching loveliness. William came to the house for his orders, & I walked back with him to the garage, which lies at the end of a drive from which at every turn the noblest prospects opened out. Happily for himself he has a seeing eye, & a mind which can enjoy what is beautiful & majestic in Nature. Who would exchange that heritage for any amount of pelf?

Jimmie accompanied us into Stirling, where we supplied the car with petrol, bought a flat cap for myself, and a small book of the road, finally visiting the Castle from whence we admired the wonderful panorama of hills and fat plains with the old city nestling at the Castle's foot.

After lunch our hostess took us to see the Fishery. The young woman, who fed the trout from a pail of shredded horse–flesh, said that she had been employed on the work for 8 years, that she fed the fish thrice daily, save that in the winter–time (when often the ice had to be broken for the purpose) they fed but once; that herons & sea–gulls preyed on the fish and were shot as poachers.

After tea mine hostess, Jimmie, Ella & I walked to the lake, which Grangemouth has purchased in order to supply its inhabitants with water, in order that, going and coming, we might enjoy the views of the Ochill Hills, & the more distant Grampians.

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