My article is not at all good, but I put it in this autobiography merely as a political prophecy.

To be imitative and uninfluenceable—­although a common combination—­is a bad one.  I am not tempted to be imitative except, I hope, in the better sense of the word, but I regret to own that I am not very influenceable either.

Jowett (the Master of Balliol in 1888-1889), my doctor, Sir John Williams (of Aberystwyth), my son Anthony and old Lady Wemyss (the mother of the present Earl) had more influence over me than any other individuals in the world.

The late Countess of Wemyss, who died in 1896, was a great character without being a character-part.  She told me that she frightened people, which distressed her.  As I am not easily frightened, I was puzzled by this.  After thinking it over, I was convinced that it was because she had a hard nut to crack within herself:  she possessed a jealous, passionate, youthful temperament, a formidable standard of right and wrong, a distinguished and rather stern accueil, a low, slow utterance and terrifying sincerity.  She was the kind of person I had dreamt of meeting and never knew that God had made.  She once told me that I was the best friend man, woman or child could ever have.  After this wonderful compliment, we formed a deep attachment, which lasted until her death.  She had a unique power of devotion and fundamental humbleness.  I kept every letter she ever wrote to me.

When we left Downing Street in ten days—­after being there for over nine years—­and had not a roof to cover our heads, our new friends came to the rescue.  I must add that many of the old ones had no room for us and some were living in the country.  Lady Crewe[Footnote:  The Marchioness of Crewe.]—­young enough to be my daughter, and a woman of rare honesty of purpose and clearness of head—­took our son Cyril in at Crewe House.  Lady Granard[Footnote:  The Countess of Granard.] put up my husband; Mrs. Cavendish-Bentinck—­Lady Granard’s aunt and one of God’s own—­befriended my daughter Elizabeth; Mrs. George Keppel[Footnote:  The Hon. Mrs. Keppel.] always large-hearted and kind—­gave me a whole floor of her house in Grosvenor Street to live in, for as many months as I liked, and Mrs. McKenna [Footnote:  Mrs. McKenna, the daughter of Lady Jekyll, and niece of Lady Horner.] took in my son Anthony.  No one has had such wonderful friends as I have had, but no one has suffered more at discovering the instability of human beings and how little power to love many people possess.

Few men and women surrender their wills; and it is considered lowering to their dignity to own that they are in the wrong.  I never get over my amazement at this kind of self-value, it passes all my comprehension.  It is vanity and this fundamental lack of humbleness that is the bed-rock of nearly every quarrel.