The Henson Journals

[258]

4th Sunday in Lent, March 22nd, 1925.

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Curzon's death and the squalid disclosures of the Dennistoun case are impressive in their coincidence. For both are pictures of "upper class" living, and exhibit the bearing of a privileged aristocracy on the nation's life. On the one hand, there is the very noble spectacle of a man ordained from the cradle for public service, embracing public service as his ideal, subjecting himself to stern & continuous discipline, rising to great opportunities, and ending a life of achievement amid the homage of his contemporaries. On the other hand, there is a loathsome picture of self–absorbed selfishness, sinking into the coarseness of vulgar huckstering and a swinish sensuality. The cancer of idle, overfed luxury is seen to have spread to the great national services. While the vast tragedy of the war proceeded, these infamies, at once childish and debased proceeded also: and they are now paraded against the sombre background of unemployment! For all that world in which these woeful figures lived, & moved, & had their being, neither God nor morality existed. Duty was a word without meaning, & the notion of service was unknown. "Shall not I visit for these things? Shall not my soul be avenged on such a nation as this?"

It is these revelations of extreme & senseless wickedness that are the true portents of Revolution.

[259]

February 3 [1770] and at my leisure moments on several of the following days, I read with much expectation a celebrated book, – Rousseau upon Education. But how was I disappointed! Sure a more consummate coxcomb never saw the sun! How amazingly full of himself! Whatever he speaks, he pronounces as an oracle. But many of his oracles are as palpably false, as that "young children never love old people". No! Do they never love grandfathers & grandmothers? Frequently more than they do their own parents. Indeed they love all that love them, & that with more warmth & sincerity than when they come to riper years.

John Wesley. Journal

I celebrated the Holy Communion in the Chapel at 8 a.m. After breakfast I wrote to Castlereagh & Fawkes.

Then I read through Temple's Primary Charge, & wrote to him. It is able, discursive, & very "Catholick". He is God's echo: Ella and I walked the dogs in the Park.

I motored to Stanley by Crook, and there preached at Evensong to a church full of people. The Vicar, Wilson, has been in that parish for more than 21 years. It contains nearly 5000 people, is worth £400 per annum, and is in my gift.

Though Stanley is nearly 800 feet above sea–level, there was less snow than in Auckland.

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