Margot Asquith, an Autobiography Part 24

In his case is a fallacy silly; HARRY CUST could display [25]

Scalps as many, I lay, From Paris as in Piccadilly.

But some there were too-- Thank the Lord they were few!

Who were bidden to come and who could not: Was there one of the lot, Ah! I hope there was not, Looked askance at the bidding and would not.

The brave LITTLE EARL [26]

Is away, and his pearl- Laden spouse, the imperial GLADYS; [26]

By that odious gout Is LORD COWPER knocked out. [27]

And the wife who his comfort and aid is. [27]

Miss BETTY'S engaged, And we all are enraged That the illness of SIBELL'S not over; [28]

GEORGE WYNDHAM can't sit [29]

At our banquet of wit, Because he is standing at Dover.

But we ill can afford To dispense with the Lord Of WADDESDON and ill HARRY CHAPLIN; [30, 31]

Were he here, we might shout As again he rushed out From the back of that "d--d big sapling."

We have lost LADY GAY [32]

'Tis a price hard to pay For that Shah and his appet.i.te greedy; And alas! we have lost-- At what ruinous cost!-- The charms of the brilliant Miss D.D. [33]

But we've got in their place, For a gift of true grace, VIRGINIA'S marvellous daughter. [34]

Having conquered the States, She's been blown by the Fates To conquer us over the water.

Now this is the sum Of all those who have come Or ought to have come to that banquet.

Then call for the bowl, Flow spirit and soul, Till midnight not one of you can quit!

And blest by the Gang Be the Rhymester who sang Their praises in doggrel appalling; More now were a sin-- Ho, waiters, begin!

Each soul for consomme is calling!

[Footnotes: 1 The Right Eton A. J. Balfour.

2 Mr. and Mrs White.

3 The Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Sutherland.

4 Col. and Mrs L. Drummond.

5 Now the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Rutland.

6 Earl and Countess of Pembroke.

7 Hon. Evan Charteris.

8 Earl and Countess Brownlow.

9 Sir J. and Lady Horner.

10 Lord and Lady Elcho (now Earl and Countess of Wemyss).

11 Lord and Lady Wenlock.

12 Mr. G.o.dfrey Webb.

13 The Hon. Mrs. E. Bourke.

14 The Hon. Spencer Lyttelton.

15 The Hon. Alan Charteris.

16 Sir E. Vincent (now Lord D'Abernon).

17 Mrs. Graham Smith.

18 Lady Ribblesdale.

19 Mrs. Asquith.

20 Lord Ribblesdale.

21 The Hon. Alfred Lyttelton.

22 The Hon. St. John Brodrick (now Earl of Midleton) and Lady Hilda Brodrick.

23 Mr. and Mrs. w.i.l.l.y Grenfell (now Lord and Lady Desborough).

24 Mr. A. G. Liddell.

25 Mr. Harry Cust.

26 Earl and Countess de Grey.

27 Earl and Countess Cowper.

28 Countess Grosvenor.

29 The late Right Hon. George Wyndham.

30 Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild.

31 Now Viscount Chaplin.

32 Lady Windsor (now Marchioness of Plymouth).

33 Miss E. Balfour (Widow of the Hon. Alfred Lyttelton).

34 Mrs. Chanler, the American novelist (now Princess Troubetzkoy).]

For my own and the children's interest I shall try, however imperfectly, to make a descriptive inventory of some of the Souls mentioned in this poem and of some of my friends who were not.

Gladstone's secretary, Sir Algernon West, [Footnote: The Right Hon. Sir Algernon West.] and G.o.dfrey Webb had both loved Laura and corresponded with her till she died and they spent all their holidays at Glen. I never remember the time when Algy West was not getting old and did not say he wanted to die; but, although he is ninety, he is still young, good-looking and--what is even more remarkable--a strong Liberal. He was never one of the Souls, but he was a faithful and loving early friend of ours.

Mr. G.o.dfrey Webb was the doyen of the Souls. He was as intimate with my brothers and parents as he was with my sisters and self.

G.o.dfrey--or Webber as some called him--was not only a man of parts, but had a peculiar flavour of his own: he had the sense of humour and observation of a memoirist and his wit healed more than it cut. For hours together he would poke about the country with a dog, a gun and a cigar, perfectly independent and self-sufficing, whether engaged in sport, repartee, or literature. He wrote and published for private circulation a small book of poems and made the Souls famous by his proficiency at all our pencil-games. It would be unwise to quote verses or epigrams that depend so much upon the occasion and the environment. Only a George Meredith can sustain a preface boasting of his heroine's wit throughout the book, but I will risk one example of G.o.dfrey Webb's quickness. He took up a newspaper one morning in the dining-room at Glen and, reading that a Mr. Pickering Phipps had broken his leg on rising from his knees at prayer, he immediately wrote this couplet:

On bended knees, with fervent lips, Wrestled with Satan Pickering Phipps, But when for aid he ceased to beg, The wily devil broke his leg!

He spent every holiday with us and I do not think he ever missed being with us on the anniversary of Laura's death, whether I was at home or abroad. He was a man in a million, the last of the wits, and I miss him every day of my life.

Lord Midleton [Footnote: The Right Hon. the Earl of Midleton, of Peper, Harow, G.o.dalming.]--better known as St. John Brodrick--was my first friend of interest; I knew him two years before I met Arthur Balfour or any of the Souls. He came over to Glen while he was staying with neighbours of ours.

I wired to him not long ago to congratulate him on being made an Earl and asked him in what year it was that he first came to Glen; this is his answer:

Jan. 12th, 1920. DEAREST MARGOT,

I valued your telegram of congratulation the more that I know you and Henry (who has given so many and refused all) attach little value to t.i.tular distinctions. Indeed, it is the only truly democratic trait about YOU, except a general love of Humanity, which has always put you on the side of the feeble. I am relieved to hear you have chosen such a reliable man as Crewe--with his literary gifts--to be the only person to read your autobiography.

My visit to Glen in R--y's company was October, 1880, when you were sixteen. You and Laura flashed like meteors on to a dreary scene of empty seats at the luncheon table (the shooting party didn't come in) and filled the room with light, electrified the conversation and made old R--y falter over his marriage vows within ten minutes. From then onwards, you have always been the most loyal and indulgent of friends, forgetting no one as you rapidly climbed to fame, and were raffled for by all parties--from Sandringham to the crossing-sweeper.

Your early years will sell the book.

Bless you.

ST. JOHN.

St. John Midleton was one of the rare people who tell the truth.

Some people do not lie, but have no truth to tell; others are too agreeable--or too frightened--and lie; but the majority are indifferent: they are the spectators of life and feel no responsibility either towards themselves or their neighbour.

He was fundamentally humble, truthful and one of the few people I know who are truly loyal and who would risk telling me, or any one he loved, before confiding to an inner circle faults which both he and I think might be corrected. I have had a long experience of inner circles and am constantly reminded of the Spanish proverb, "Remember your friend has a friend." I think you should either leave the room when those you love are abused or be prepared to warn them of what people are thinking. This is, as I know to my cost, an unpopular view of friends.h.i.+p, but neither St. John nor I would think it loyal to join in the laughter or censure of a friend's folly.

Arthur Balfour himself--the most persistent of friends--remarked laughingly:

"St. John pursues us with his malignant fidelity." [Footnote: The word malignity was obviously used in the sense of the French malin.]