The Henson Journals
Sun 12 April 1931
Volume 52, Pages 146 to 147
[146]
Low Sunday, April 12th, 1931.
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A brilliant morning but soon overclouded. I must have contracted a slight chill yesterday for today I am "creepy" and dilapidate.
We all went to church at 10:45 a.m. for mattins and sermon. The service was reverent and hearty. An unsurpliced choir of both sexes sang with energy. The incumbent has a feeble & melancholy manner, very congruous indeed with his wooden leg, but hardly helpful to the spirit of praise. The lessons (lefsons) were well read by a layman, the Vicar's brother. Then came the sermon from the text – "Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed". I was interested by a little homily which might have been preached by a medieval friar of a godly type. The present Bishop of London was quoted reverently as a weighty apologist for the faith: & the discourse was lightened rather than illumined by several puerile tales. Yet, for a rustic congregation even in the year of grace, 1931, it may well have been edifying. Much would turn on the pastoral habit of the preacher, & the personal impression (imprefsion) which it has made on the people. It may, however, be the case that the sceptical currents of the times have not left even our villages altogether untouched.
[147]
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There came to lunch the Vicar's brother, Mr James & his wife. They have been living in Riseholme, formerly a palace of the Bishops of Lincoln, but are now moving elsewhere. He is a keen sportsman, & spoke with information and intelligence of birds and beasts.
After tea I walked for an hour with Mrs Lawrie and we talked 'large'. The new road which is being constructed will appropriate a considerable amount of good pasture land, and sweep away many trees which beautified the village. The house will become quieter by the transference of the waxing volume of traffic to a greater distance: but mainly Carlton will be vulgarised. The new road & the introduction of the gravel–raising works have certainly changed this pleasant little parish for the worse. I am told that squirrels, which once abounded, & made an attractive appearance in the grounds, have now vanished. Where "economic man" enters, the birds & beasts retire. Meanwhile the motor–traffic, for which these hideous roads are being constructed at so grave a cost, is becoming so considerable and so rapid that the very notion of pleasure is ceasing to be connected with it. A bold utilitarianism may justify this woeful transformation of England: nothing else can.