Margot Asquith, an Autobiography Part 23

He was a conspicuous young man of ability, with a ready pen, a ready tongue, an excellent sense of humour in private life and intrepid social boldness. He had appearance more than looks, a keen, lively face, with an expression of enamelled selfa.s.surance.

Like every young man of exceptional promise, he was called a prig.

The word was so misapplied in those days that, had I been a clever young man, I should have felt no confidence in myself till the world had called me a prig. He was a remarkably intelligent person in an exceptional generation. He had ambition and--what he claimed for himself in a brilliant description--"middle-cla.s.s method"; and he added to a kindly feeling for other people a warm corner for himself. Some of my friends thought his contemporaries in the House of Commons, George Wyndham and Harry Cust, would go farther, as the former promised more originality and the latter was a finer scholar, but I always said--and have a record of it in my earliest diaries--that George Curzon would easily outstrip his rivals. He had two incalculable advantages over them: he was chronically industrious and self-sufficing; and, though Oriental in his ideas of colour and ceremony, with a poor sense of proportion, and a childish love of fine people, he was never self-indulgent. He neither ate, drank nor smoked too much and left nothing to chance.

No one could turn with more elasticity from work to play than George Curzon; he was a first-rate host and boon companion and showed me and mine a steady and sympathetic love over a long period of years. Even now, if I died, although he belongs to the more conventional and does not allow himself to mix with people of opposite political parties, he would write my obituary notice.

At the time of which I am telling, he was threatened with lung trouble and was ordered to Switzerland by his doctors. We were very unhappy and a.s.sembled at a farewell banquet, to which he entertained us in the Bachelors' Club, on the 10th of July, 1889.

We found a poem welcoming us on our chairs, when we sat down to dinner, in which we were all honourably and categorically mentioned. Some of our critics called us "the Gang"--to which allusion is made here--but we were ultimately known as the Souls.

This famous dinner and George's poem caused a lot of fun and friction, jealousy, curiosity and endless discussion. It was followed two years later by another dinner given by the same host to the same guests and in the same place, on the 9th of July, 1891.

The repet.i.tion of this dinner was more than the West End of London could stand; and I was the object of much obloquy. I remember dining with Sir Stanley and Lady Clarke to meet King Edward--then Prince of Wales--when my hostess said to me in a loud voice, across the table:

"There were some clever people in the world, you know, before you were born, Miss Tennant!"

Feeling rather nettled, I replied:

"Please don't pick me out, Lady Clarke, as if I alone were responsible for the stupid ones among whom we find ourselves to-day."

Having no suspicion of other people, I was seldom on the defensive and did not mean to be rude but I was young and intolerant. This was George Curzon's poem:

[Editor's Note: See footnotes at bottom of poem]

10th JULY, 1889.

Ho! list to a lay Of that company gay, Compounded of gallants and graces, Who gathered to dine, In the year '89, In a haunt that in Hamilton Place is.

There, there where they met, And the banquet was set At the bidding of GEORGIUS CURZON; Brave youth! 'tis his pride, When he errs, that the side Of respectable licence he errs on.

Around him that night-- Was there e'er such a sight?

Souls sparkled and spirits expanded; For of them critics sang, That tho' christened the Gang, By a spiritual link they were banded.

Souls and spirits, no doubt But neither without Fair visible temples to dwell in!

E'en your image divine Must be girt with a shrine, For the pious to linger a spell in.

There was seen at that feast Of this band, the High Priest, The heart that to all hearts is nearest; Him may n.o.body steal From the true Common weal, Tho' to each is dear ARTHUR the dearest. [1]

America lends, Nay, she gives when she sends Such treasures as HARRY and DAISY; [2]

Tho' many may yearn, None but HARRY can turn That sweet little head of hers crazy.

There was much-envied STRATH [3]

With the lady who hath [3]

Taught us all what may life be at twenty; Of pleasure a taste, Of duty no waste, Of gentle philosophy plenty.

KITTY DRUMMOND was there-- [4]

Where was LAWRENCE, oh! where?-- And my Lord and my Lady GRANBY; [5]

Is there one of the Gang Has not wept at the pang That he never can VIOLET'S man be?

From WILTON, whose streams Murmur sweet in our dreams, Come the Earl and his Countess together; [6]

In her spirit's proud flights We are whirled to the heights, He sweetens our stay in the nether.

Dear EVAN was there, [7]

The first choice of the fair, To all but himself very gentle!

And ASHRIDGE'S lord [8]

Most insufferably bored With manners and modes Oriental.

The Shah, I would bet, In the East never met Such a couple as him and his consort. [8]

If the HORNERS you add, [9]

That a man must be mad Who complains that the Gang is a wrong sort.

From kindred essay LADY MARY to-day [10]

Should have beamed on a world that adores her.

Of her spouse debonair [10]

No woman has e'er Been able to say that he bores her.

Next BINGY escorts [11]

His dear wife, to our thoughts [11]

Never lost, though withdrawn from our vision, While of late she has shown That of spirit alone Was not fas.h.i.+oned that fair composition.

No, if humour we count, The original fount Must to HUGO be ceded in freehold, Tho' of equal supplies In more subtle disguise Old G.o.dFREY has far from a wee hold! [12]

MRS. EDDY has come [13]

And we all shall be dumb When we hear what a lovely voice Emmy's is; SPENCER, too, would show what [14]

He can do, were it not For that cursed laryngeal Nemesis.

At no distance away Behold ALAN display [15]

That smile that is found so upsetting; And EDGAR in bower, [16]

In statecraft, in power, The favourite first in the betting.

Here a trio we meet, Whom you never will beat, Tho' wide you may wander and far go; From what wonderful art Of that Gallant Old Bart, Sprang CHARTY and LUCY and MARGOT?

To LUCY he gave [17]

The wiles that enslave, Heart and tongue of an angel to CHARTY; [18]

To MARGOT the wit [19]

And the wielding of it, That make her the joy of a party.

LORD TOMMY is proud [20]

That to CHARTY he vowed The graces and gifts of a true man.

And proud are the friends Of ALFRED, who blends [21]

The athlete, the hero, the woman!

From the Gosford preserves Old ST. JOHN deserves [22]

Great praise for a bag such as HILDA; [22]

True worth she esteemed, Overpowering he deemed The subtle enchantment that filled her.

Very dear are the pair, He so strong, she so fair, Renowned as the TAPLOVITE WINNIES; Ah! he roamed far and wide, Till in ETTY he spied [23]

A treasure more golden than guineas.

Here is DOLL who has taught [24]

Us that "words conceal thought"