The Henson Journals

[294]

Friday, December 24th, 1926.

These poems of Mr Wright are a revelation of the miner's mind, and as such have a considerable value. The poem "Down Under" is really a versified edition of the normal "Labour" orator's speech. It dilates in a mood of exaggerated sentimentality on the hardships and dangers of the miner's life, dwelling on every detail which can move sympathy and omitting every aspect except that which suggests extreme discomfort and peril. It leads up to a description of the "base and cruel system" which is credited with all the evils, and ends with a denunciation of the masters, & a prophecy of their ultimate overthrow. Its references to the clergy are contemptuous & hostile: they are, from the miner's point of view, futile and antagonistic.

Have you heard the parson preaching, have you listened to his teaching,

How the slaves in Egypt suffered long ago –

But you heeded not his patter, as you felt it didn't matter

For of mining how could any parson know?

There is throughout no allusion to the miner's family life, which is often beautiful & happy: to his amusements, which he enjoys and spends much time & money in enjoying: to his hobbies & pets: to his political & denominational interests, which give him importance in the community: to his investments which are sometimes considerable: to his leisure which is always great. It is an utterly morbid, lop–sided picture of his lot in life which is paraded before the miner, which touches his imagination, and becomes the assumption of his thought. Thus he sees himself, and thus he feels.

[295]

Of course the miner does not stand alone in this habit of fastening his mind on the comfortless and gloomy aspects of his life. The clergy (not excluding the bishops) are much addicted to the vicious indulgence of self–pity. It may be safely maintained that no human career is without its shadows: that none fails to provide materials for discontent: that none is destitute of compensations.

I wasted the day in writing letters, preparing presents for Christmas, and reading "large". These festal periods are fatal to all useful work.

Sir Henry Lunn sends me the book which he has just published: "Round the World with a Dictaphone. A Record of Men & Movements in 1926". It is, like its author, discursive, topical, superficial, & obvious. Mr Dillon sends me a posthumously–published work by Ld Curzon: "Leaves from a Viceroy's Note–Book": and Derry sends me "The Oxford Book of Eighteenth Century Verse".

In the afternoon I walked round the Park with Lionel. Mr Harlow with his wife and his son Aidan had tea. It appears that his elder son, Vincent J. Harlow Esq., now Lecturer in Modern History at the University College, Southampton, is the author of "A History of Barbados, 1625–1685", which was sent to me a fortnight since.

A christmas card from my godson, Herbert Nicholson, tells me that he has shifted his dwelling, & now lives in Tunbridge Wells. This is truly a baffling world in which the forces which alienate are always active, & never so potent as when contact is suspended. Yet how to maintain contact is an almost insoluble problem.

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