The Henson Journals

[164]

22nd Sunday after Trinity, November 16th, 1930.

A brilliant morning, the ground whitened by frost. I celebrated the Holy Communion in the Chapel at 8 a.m. We numbered but 7 communicants, including Charles and William. The Gospel gave our Lord's answer to the difficult and besieging question of St Peter, "Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?" When arithmetic enters into forgiveness charity goes out. Christ sweeps away the arithmetical approach to the ethical problem almost contemptuously: "I say not unto thee, until seven times: but until seventy times seven."

Ella accompanied me to Stockton, where I preached to a great congregation, composed mostly of men, in the parish church. According to old custom, the Mayors of Stockton and Thornaby, with their aldermen & councillors, & escorted by as many of the citizens as elected to go with them, attended Divine Service at the beginning of their official year. The organ was hors de combat, so that, save for the doubtful assistance of a harmonium, the service was unaccompanied, but, none the less, it was hearty and congregational. My sermon was preceded by the Bidding Prayer: & the service closed fittingly with the National Anthem. We returned to Auckland for lunch.

[165]

[symbol]

Mr Justice Roche, with his son, daughter & prospective son–in–law came to tea. They had been inspecting the house in Heighington in which his daughter is to start her married life. I took the Judge to my study, and we talked for half an hour. He agreed with me in thinking that the abolition of capital punishment for wilful murder is highly undesirable, and, indeed, would be very mischievous. We were in agreement also on the essential unsoundness of the feminist movement. He lamented the foolish sentimentalism which induced Baldwin, probably under the influence of his wife, to extend the franchise to 'flappers'. He spoke of Lord Birkenhead with genuine affection, while admitting his lamentable lack of self–control in one notorious particular. He makes some use of the Loeb Classics, which he noticed on my book–shelves, and said that he had recently been reading Aristophanes. His son, (who acts as his father's marshal,) came in to fetch the judge, & seemed to be impressed by the number of my books and the confusion of my table. I suppose the last carries a suggestion if intellectual industry. It were, perhaps, more justly interpreted as an evidence of mental dilettantism, the ruinous habit of "playing round" with subjects of immediate interest, & achieving nothing!

---