Margot in 1906 sums up her life; A lot of love-making, A little fame and more abuse—­A real man and great happiness

I will finish with a character-sketch of myself copied out of my diary, written nine weeks before the birth of my fifth and last baby in 1906, and like everything else that I have quoted never intended for the public eye: 

“I am not pretty, and I do not know anything about my expression, although I observe it is this that is particularly dwelt upon if one is sufficiently plain; but I hope, when you feel as kindly towards your fellow-creatures as I do, that some of that warmth may modify an otherwise bright and rather knifey contour.

“My figure has remained as it was:  slight, well-balanced and active.  Being socially courageous and not at all shy, I think I can come into a room as well as many people of more appearance and prestige.  I do not propose to treat myself like Mr. Bernard Shaw in this account.  I shall neither excuse myself from praise, nor shield myself from blame, but put down the figures as accurately as I can and leave others to add them up.

“I think I have imagination, born not of fancy, but of feeling; a conception of the beautiful, not merely in poetry, music, art and nature, but in human beings.  I have insight into human nature, derived not only from a courageous experience, but also from imagination; and I have a clear though distant vision, down dark, long and often divergent avenues, of the ordered meaning of God.  I take this opportunity of saying my religion is a vibrating reality never away from me; and this is all I shall write upon the subject.

“It is difficult to describe what one means by imagination, but I think it is more than inventiveness, or fancy.  I remember discussing the question with John Addington Symonds and, to give him a hasty illustration of what I meant, I said I thought naming a Highland regiment ‘The Black Watch’ showed a high degree of imagination.  He was pleased with this; and as a personal testimonial I may add that both he and Jowett told me that no one could be as good a judge of character as I was who was without imagination.  In an early love-letter to me, Henry wrote: 

“Imaginative insight you have more than any one I have ever met!

“I think I am deficient in one form of imagination; and Henry will agree with this.  I have a great longing to help those I love:  this leads me to intrepid personal criticism; and I do not always know what hurts my friends’ feelings.  I do not think I should mind anything that I have said to others being said to me, but one never can tell; I have a good, sound digestion and personally prefer knowing the truth; I have taken adverse criticism pretty well all my life and had a lot of it; but by some gap I have not succeeded in making my friends take it well.