The Henson Journals

[45]

Monday, December 30th, 1929.

My interview with Kenneth was at once perplexing, and re–assuring. On the one hand, the statements of Mrs R. and Vincent Harlow are very hard (though not quite impossible) to reconcile with his explanations. On the other hand, he speaks with so much decision, and looks so candid while he does so, that it is all but impossible to disbelieve him. I could not see my way to refuse to assist him until the end of the summer term, but – though he is very positive that he can, & will take his degree – I cannot have much confidence that he will do so. He is so strangely irresponsible, that it is extremely difficult to make him realize the unfortunate aspect of his behaviour. He did undertake to write to Mrs R. expressing regret at his lack of appreciation, & thanking her for her interest in his welfare: but I doubt if he will have the grit to do so. He said that he had attended chapel regularly every fortnight. His repugnance to the notion of being Ordained is, I think, entirely based on the fact that, as a clergyman, he would not be able to make money enough for the assistance of his parents. It is the old, old story!

[46]

I received an affectionate letter from Ld Scarbrough, a friendly letter from Sir Lewis Dibden, and a long, overpolite, and evidently calculated letter from the Anglo–Catholick Milner–White, to whom, perhaps, unwisely I had written in terms of compliment respecting his answer to Father Vernon.

I wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and sent him a photograph of the portrait.

Also, I sent a large photograph to Lady Scarbrough, and another to Arthur with a letter.

I wrote at some length to the late Primate, Lord Davidson, partly because I think he likes to receive letters. They mitigate the unwelcome consciousness, which his Grace is reported to 'kick against', that he is no longer an important factor in the scene which he has dominated for so long. Partly, because he is in the habit of answering letters with his own hand, and sometimes allows himself to speak his real mind. Commonly he yields to the inveterate habit of his long official career, and writes with the diplomatic design of creating an impression on your mind rather than of disclosing the content of his. A Scotchman, an old ecclesiastic, a courtier – que voulez vous?

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