The Henson Journals

[220]

Thursday, September 3rd, 1925.

A fresh set of proofs arrived, which I corrected and returned to the publishers. Among the letters was one from Tom Hay, pleasantly written, and signed "Yours affectionately". Why should I interest myself in youngsters of his age, who are coming on to the scene, which I must soon be leaving? If that infant had lived, I should have had a lad in whom interest would have been a duty as well as an interest: but now? Ralph and I mounted the hill to the hut, from which the range of hills were to be seen in rare beauty. After lunch, Miss Haldane took us to a large house near to Stirling, where Sir K. Muir lives. His wife is a Bulgarian, the daughter of the Bulgarian ambassador, a tall, slim, dark–eyed, mystery–laden woman, such as the Slav race produces. Her sister was there, a handsome but rather sinister lady, whom one could with little difficulty imagine in the rôle of a Charlotte Corday! Both ladies talked with freedom and intelligence about their own country. They expressed great fear of Russia: much hatred of Roumania & Greece: much confidence in the Bulgarian peasantry, and much contempt for the Orthodox Church. Lady Muir is a great friend of Miss Buchanan, the daughter of the late Sir George Buchanan. She asked me about Harold Knowling, who was, she said, now married to Miss Buchanan! Her sister pursued the subject, speaking with evidently strong[221] dislike of Harold who was, in her belief, a bad & vulgar but clever man. She said that he placed the blame of his divorce on Elsie. I could not but observe that he had himself written to me stating that he was himself solely blameworthy in the matter, and that his desertion of his 3 charming children was unpardonable. The news of Harold's "marriage" shuts the door on every possibility of reconciliation with Elsie. What a miserable tangle has been created! No marriage ever started with such fair promise – mutual love, youth, some congruous tastes (e.g. music), sufficient means, good health, and then, in due course, strong & attractive children: and yet, all has worked out to this woeful disaster. The view of Donne Castle was very striking: & the vast dimensions of the Hotel at Glen–eagles compelled our wonder.

Sir Edmund & Lady Gosse arrived, and his ceaseless prattle amused and, perhaps, fatigued the company. He tells me that he is 77 years old, seven years older than our host. Haldane is certainly in appearance and, I suspect, in mind older than his years: but he has taken much out of himself in the course of his life. He talked with vivacity of his political & legal experiences, and told some capital stories. Before going to bed he asked Ralph and me to witness his will. An ominous sign!

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