Margot Asquith, an Autobiography Part 45

On December 16th, 1917, he was appointed Brigadier to command the 189th Brigade; and a few days later, in reconnoitring the position, he was again severely wounded. His leg had to be amputated and he was disabled from further active service in the war. I never saw Arthur Asquith lose his temper or think of himself in my life.

I look around to see what child of which friend is left to become the wife of my son Anthony; and I wonder whether she will be as virtuous, loving and good-looking as my other daughters-in-law.

We were all wonderfully happy together, but, looking back, I think I was far from clever with my stepchildren; they grew up good and successful independently of me.

In consequence of our unpopularity in Peebles-s.h.i.+re, I had no opportunity of meeting other young people in their homes; and I knew no family except my own. The wealth of art and music, the luxury of flowers and colour, the stretches of wild country both in Scotland and high Leicesters.h.i.+re, which had made up my life till I married, had not qualified me to understand children reared in different circ.u.mstances. I would not perhaps have noticed many trifles in my step-family, had I not been so much made of, so overloved, caressed and independent before my marriage.

Every gardener prunes the roots of a tree before it is transplanted, but no one had ever pruned me. If you have been sunned through and through like an apricot on a wall from your earliest days, you are over-sensitive to any withdrawal of heat.

This had been clearly foreseen by my friends and they were genuinely anxious about the happiness and future of my stepchildren. I do not know which of us had been considered the boldest in our marriage, my husband or myself; and no doubt step- relations.h.i.+ps should not be taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, but reverently, discreetly, and soberly. In every one of the letters congratulating me there had been a note of warning.

Mr. Gladstone wrote:

MAY 5TH, 1894.

You have a great and n.o.ble work to perform. It is a work far beyond human strength. May the strength which is more than human be abundantly granted you.

Ever yours, W. E. G.

I remember, on receiving this, saying to my beloved friend, Con Manners:

"Gladstone thinks my fitness to be Henry's wife should be prayed for like the clergy: 'Almighty and Everlasting G.o.d, who alone workest great marvels . ...'"

John Morley wrote:

95 ELM PARK GARDENS, SOUTH KENSINGTON, S.W. MARCH 7,1894. MY DEAR MISS MARGOT,

Now that the whirl of congratulations must be ceasing, here are mine, the latest but not the least warm of them all. You are going to marry one of the finest men in all the world, with a great store of sterling gifts both of head and heart, and with a life before him of the highest interest, importance and power. Such a man is a companion that any woman might envy you. I daresay you know this without my telling you. On the other part, I will not add myself to those impertinents who--as I understand you to report--wish you "to improve." I very respectfully wish nothing of the sort. Few qualities are better worth leaving as they are than vivacity, wit, freshness of mind, gaiety and pluck. Pray keep them all. Don't improve by an atom.

Circ.u.mstances may have a lesson or two to teach you, but 'tis only the dull who don't learn, and I have no fear but that such a pair have happy years in front of them.

You ask for my blessing and you have it. Be sure that I wish you as unclouded a life as can be the lot of woman, and I hope you will always let me count myself your friend. I possess some aphorisms on the married state--but they will keep. I only let them out as occasion comes. Always yours sincerely, JOHN MORLEY.

Looking back now on the first years of my marriage, I cannot exaggerate the grat.i.tude which I feel for the tolerance, patience and loyalty that my stepchildren extended to a stranger; for, although I introduced an enormous amount of fun, beauty and movement into their lives, I could not replace what they had lost.

Henry's first wife, Helen Asquith, was an exceptionally pretty, refined woman; never dull, never artificial, and of single-minded goodness; she was a wonderful wife and a devoted mother, but was without illusions and even less adventurous than her children. She told me in one of our talks how much she regretted that her husband had taken silk and was in the House of Commons, at which I said in a glow of surprise:

"But surely, Mrs. Asquith, you are ambitious for your husband!

Why, he's a WONDERFUL man!"

This conversation took place in Grosvenor Square the second time that we met, when she brought her little girl to see me. Violet was aged four and a self-possessed, plump, clever little creature, with lovely hair hanging in Victorian ringlets down her back.

The children were not like Helen Asquith in appearance, except Raymond, who had her beautiful eyes and brow; but, just as they had none of their father's emotion and some of his intellect, they all inherited their mother's temperament, with the exception of Violet, who was more susceptible to the new environment than her brothers. The greatest compliment that was ever paid to my appearance--and one that helped me most when I felt discouraged in my early married life--was what Helen Asquith said to my husband and he repeated to me: "There is something a little n.o.ble about Margot Tennant's expression."

If my stepchildren were patient with me, I dare not say what their father was: there are some reservations the boldest biographer has a right to claim; and I shall only write of my husband's character--his loyalty, lack of vanity, freedom from self, warmth and width of sympathy--in connection with politics and not with myself; but since I have touched on this subject I will give one ill.u.s.tration of his nature.

When the full meaning of the disreputable General Election of 1918, with its promises and pretensions and all its silly and false cries, was burnt into me at Paisley in this year of 1920 by our Coalition opponent re-repeating them, I said to Henry:

"Oh, if I had only quietly dropped all my friends of German name when the war broke out and never gone to say good-bye to those poor Lichnowskys, these ridiculous lies propagated entirely for political purposes would never have been told; and this criminal pro-German stunt could not have been started."

To which he replied:

"G.o.d forbid! I would rather ten thousand times be out of public life for ever."

CHAPTER VII

VISIT TO WOMAN'S PRISON--INTERVIEW THERE WITH MRS. MAYBRICK--SCENE IN A LIFER'S CELL; THE HUSBAND WHO NEVER KNEW THOUGHT WIFE MADE MONEY SEWING--MARGOT'S PLEA THAT FAILED

My husband was Home Secretary when we married, and took a serious interest in our prison system, which he found far from satisfactory. He thought that it would be a good thing, before we were known by sight, to pay a surprise visit to the convict-- prisons and that, if I could see the women convicts and he could see the men privately, he would be able to examine the conditions under which they served their sentences better than if we were to go officially.

I was expecting my baby in about three months when we made this expedition.

Wormwood Scrubs was the promising, almost d.i.c.kens-like name of one of our convict-prisons and, at that time, took in both men and women.

The governor scrutinised Henry's fine writing on our permits; he received us dryly, but without suspicion; and we divided off, having settled to meet at the front door after an hour and a half's inspection.

The matron who accompanied me was a powerful, intelligent-looking woman of hard countenance and short speech. I put a few stupid questions to her about the prison: how many convicts they had, if the food was good, etc.

She asked me if I would care to see Mrs. Maybrick, an American criminal, who had been charged with murder, but sentenced for manslaughter. This woman had poisoned her husband with mild insistence by a.r.s.enic, but, as he was taking this for his health at the time of his death, the evidence was conflicting as to where he stopped and she began. She had the reputation of being a lady and beautiful; and pet.i.tions for her reprieve were sent to us signed by every kind of person from the United States. I told the matron I would see her and was shown into her cell, where I found her sitting on a stool against a bleak desk, at which she was reading. I noted her fine eyes and common mouth and, apologising, said:

"I hope you will not mind a stranger coming to enquire how you are getting on," adding, "Have you any complaints to make of the prison?"

The matron had left me and, the doors being thick, I felt pretty sure she could not hear what we were saying.

MRS. MAYBRICK (SHRUGGING HER SHOULDERS): "The b.u.t.ter here is abominable and we are only given two books--THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS and the Bible--and what do you say to our looking-gla.s.ses?"

(POINTING TO A LITTLE GLa.s.s, FOUR INCHES BIG, IN A DEEP THICK FRAME HANGING ON A PEG). "Do you know why it is so small?"

MARGOT: "No."

MRS. MAYBRICK: "Because the women who want to kill themselves can't get their heels in to break the gla.s.s; if they could they would cut their throats. The men don't have looking-gla.s.ses at all."

MARGOT: "Do you think they would like to have them?"

MRS. MAYBRICK (SHRUGGING HER SHOULDERS AGAIN AND FINGERING HER BLUE COTTON BLOUSE): "I don't suppose they care! I'm sure no one could wish to see themselves with cropped hair and in these hideous clothes."

MARGOT: "I think that I could get you every kind of book, if you like reading, and will tell me what you want."

MRS. MAYBRICK (with a sudden laugh and looking at me with a contemptuous expression which made my heart ache): "Oh, no, you couldn't! Never mind me! But you might tell them about the b.u.t.ter."

I did not find Mrs. Maybrick sympathique and shortly after this rejoined the matron. It was the first time I had seen a prison and my heart and mind were moved as we went from cell to cell nodding to the grey occupants.

"Have you any very bad cases?" I asked. "I mean any woman who is difficult and unhappy?"