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- The Autobiography of Margot Asquith in Two Volumes - AbeBooks
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- Margot Asquith, an Autobiography - Two Volumes in One eBook
To describe her features would give no idea of the brightness and vivacity of her expression, or of that mixture of innocence and mischief, as of a half-child, half-Kelpie, which distinguished her. Her figure was very small but well made, and she was always prettily and daintily dressed.
The Autobiography of Margot Asquith in Two Volumes - AbeBooks
If the outward woman is difficult to describe, what can be said of her character? To begin with her lighter side, she had reduced fascination to a fine art in a style entirely her own. I have never known her meet any man, and hardly any woman, whom she could not subjugate in a few days. It is as difficult to give any idea of her methods as to describe a dance when the music is unheard.
Perhaps one may say that her special characteristic was the way in which she combined the gaiety of a child with the tact and aplomb of a grown woman. Her victims, after their period of enchantment, generally became her devoted friends. This trifling was, however, only the ripple on the surface. In the deeper parts of her nature was a fund of earnestness and a sympathy which enabled her to throw herself into the lives of other people in a quite unusual way, and was one of the great secrets of the general affection she inspired. It was not, however, as is sometimes the case with such feelings, merely emotional, but impelled her to many kindnesses and to constant, though perhaps somewhat impulsive, efforts to help her fellows of all sorts and conditions.
On her mental side she certainly gave the impression, from the originality of her letters and sayings, and her appreciation of what was best in literature, that her gifts were of a high order. In addition, she had a subtle humour and readiness, which made her repartees often delightful and produced phrases and fancies of characteristic daintiness. I am aware that this description will seem exaggerated, and will be put down to the writer having dwelt in her "Aeaean isle" but I think that if it should meet the eyes of any who knew her in her short life, they will understand what it attempts to convey.
This is good, but his poem is even better; and there is a prophetic touch in the line, "Shadowed with something of the future years. A face upturned towards the midnight sky, Pale in the glimmer of the pale starlight, And all around the black and boundless night, And voices of the winds which bode and cry. A childish face, but grave with curves that lie Ready to breathe in laughter or in tears, Shadowed with something of the future years That makes one sorrowful, I know not why.
O still, small face, like a white petal torn From a wild rose by autumn winds and flung On some dark stream the hurrying waves among: By what strange fates and whither art thou borne? Laura had many poems written to her from many lovers. My daughter Elizabeth Bibesco's godfather, Godfrey Webb--a conspicuous member of the Souls, not long since dead--wrote this of her:. Did you not question her?
How was it pray She so persuaded you? Laura was not a plaster saint; she was a generous, clamative, combative little creature of genius, full of humour, imagination, temperament and impulse. I can only say what I think the differences and resemblances were. Strictly speaking, I was better-looking than Laura, but she had rarer and more beautiful eyes. What she really had to a greater degree than other people was true spirituality, a feeling of intimacy with the other world and a sense of the love and wisdom of God and His plan of life.
Her mind was informed by true religion; and her heart was fixed. This did not prevent her from being a very great flirt. The first time that a man came to Glen and liked me better than Laura, she was immensely surprised--not more so than I was--and had it not been for the passionate love which we cherished for each other, there must inevitably have been much jealousy between us. On several occasions the same man proposed to both of us, and we had to find out from each other what our intentions were. I only remember being hurt by Laura on one occasion and it came about in this way.
We were always dressed alike, and as we were the same size; "M" and "L" had to be written in our clothes as we grew older. One day, about the time of which I am writing, I was thirteen; I took a letter out of the pocket of what I thought was my skirt and read it; it was from Laura to my eldest sister Posie and, though I do not remember it all, one sentence was burnt into me:.
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I wondered why any one should think it extraordinary! I went upstairs and cried in a small black cupboard, where I generally disappeared when life seemed too much for me. The Sunday class I taught need have disturbed no one, for I regret to relate that, after a striking lesson on the birth of Christ, when I asked my pupils who the Virgin was, one of the most promising said:. The idea had evidently gone abroad that I was a frivolous character; this hurt and surprised me.
Naughtiness and frivolity are different, and I was always deeply in earnest. She and I belonged to a reading-class. I read more than she did and at greater speed, but we were all readers and profited by a climate which kept us indoors and a fine library. The class obliged us to read an hour a day, which could not be called excessive, but the real test was doing the same thing at the same time. I would have preferred three or four hours' reading on wet days and none on fine, But not so our Edinburgh tutor.
Laura started the Girls' Friendly Society in the village, which was at that time famous for its drunkenness and immorality. These drives to Innerleithen and our moonlight talks are among my most precious recollections. At the meetings--after reading aloud to the girls while they sewed and knitted--Laura would address them. She gave a sort of lesson, moral, social and religious, and they all adored her. More remarkable at her age than speaking to mill-girls were her Sunday classes at Glen, in the housekeeper's room.
I do not know one girl now of any age--Laura was only sixteen--who could talk on religious subjects with profit to the butler, housekeeper and maids, or to any grown-up people, on a Sunday afternoon. Compared with what the young men have written and published during this war, Laura's literary promise was not great; both her prose and her poetry were less remarkable than her conversation.
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She was not so good a judge of character as I was and took many a goose for a swan, but, in consequence of this, she made people of both sexes--and even all ages--twice as good, clever and delightful as they would otherwise have been. I have never succeeded in making any one the least different from what they are and, in my efforts to do so, have lost every female friend that I have ever had with the exception of four. This was the true difference between us. I have never influenced anybody but my own two children, Elizabeth and Anthony, but Laura had such an amazing effect upon men and women that for years after she died they told me that she had both changed and made their lives.
This is a tremendous saying. When I die, people may turn up and try to make the world believe that I have influenced them and women may come forward whom I adored and who have quarrelled with me and pretend that they always loved me, but I wish to put it on record that they did not, or, if they did, their love is not my kind of love and I have no use for it. The fact is that I am not touchy or impenitent myself and forget that others may be and I tell people the truth about themselves, while Laura made them feel it.
I do not think I should mind hearing from any one the naked truth about myself; and on the few occasions when it has happened to me, I have not been in the least offended. My chief complaint is that so few love one enough, as one grows older, to say what they really think; nevertheless I have often wished that I had been born with Laura's skill and tact in dealing with men and women.
In her short life she influenced more people than I have done in over twice as many years. I have never influenced people even enough to make them change their stockings! And I have never succeeded in persuading any young persons under my charge--except my own two children--to say that they were wrong or sorry, nor at this time of life do I expect to do so. There was another difference between Laura and me: she felt sad when she refused the men who proposed to her; I pitied no man who loved me.
I told Laura that both her lovers and mine had a very good chance of getting over it, as they invariably declared themselves too soon. We were neither of us au fond very susceptible. Rowland Leigh, of Stoneleigh Abbey. He told me afterwards that he had been making up his mind and changing it for days as to how he should propose. Sir David Tennant, a former Speaker at Cape Town and the most distant of cousins, came to stay at Glen with his son, a young man of twenty.
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After a few days, the young man took me into one of the conservatories and asked me to marry him. I pointed out that I hardly knew him by sight, and that "he was running hares. I found her in tears; she told me Sir David Tennant had asked her to marry him and she had been obliged to refuse. I cheered her up by pointing out that it would have been awkward had we both accepted, for, while remaining my sister, she would have become my mother-in-law and my husband's stepmother.
We were not popular in Peeblesshire, partly because we had no county connection, but chiefly because we were Liberals. My father had turned out the sitting Tory, Sir Graham Montgomery, of Stobo, and was member for the two counties Peeblesshire and Selkirkshire. As Sir Graham had represented the counties for thirty years, this was resented by the Montgomery family, who proceeded to cut us.
Laura was much worried over this, but I was amused. I said the love of the Maxwell Stuarts, Maxwell Scotts, Wolfe Murrays and Sir Thomas--now Lord--Carmichael was quite enough for me and that if she liked she could twist Sir Graham Montgomery round her little finger; as a matter of fact, neither Sir Graham nor his sons disliked us. I met Basil Montgomery at Traquair House many years after my papa's election, where we were entertained by Herbert Maxwell--the owner of one of the most romantic houses in Scotland, and our most courteous and affectionate neighbour.
Not knowing who he was, I was indignant when he told me he thought Peeblesshire was dull; I said where we lived it was far from dull and asked him if he knew many people in the county. To which he answered:. At this I showed him the most lively sympathy and invited him to come to Glen. In consequence of this visit he told me years afterwards his fortune had been made. My father took a fancy to him and at my request employed him on the Stock Exchange. Laura and I shared the night nursery together till she married; and, in spite of mixed proposals, we were devoted friends. We were discussing imagination one night and were comparing Hawthorne, De Quincey, Poe and others, in consequence of a dispute arising out of one of our pencil-games; and we argued till the housemaid came in with the hot water at eight in the morning.
I will digress here to explain our after-dinner games. There were several, but the best were what Laura and I invented: one was called "Styles," another "Clumps"--better known as "Animal, Vegetable or Mineral"--a third, "Epigrams" and the most dangerous of all "Character Sketches. When it was agreed that we had all written enough, the manuscripts were given to our umpire, who read them out loud. Votes were then taken as to the authorship, which led to first-rate general conversation on books, people and manner of writing.
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Some of our guests preferred making caricatures to competing in the more ambitious line of literature. These games were good for our tempers and a fine training; any loose vanity, jealousy, or over-competitiveness were certain to be shown up; and those who took the buttons off the foils in the duel of argument--of which I have seen a good deal in my life--were instantly found out. We played all our games with much greater precision and care than they are played now and from practice became extremely good at them.
I never saw a playing-card at Glen till after I married, though--when we were obliged to dine downstairs to prevent the company being thirteen at dinner--I vaguely remember a back view of my grandpapa at the card-table playing whist. Laura was a year and a half older than I was and came out in , while I was in Dresden.