When Cynthia Asquith wrote the first volume of her memoir Haply I May Remember a reviewer in America wrote: ‘It shows how one of the greatest revolutions in English history was met by an individual of flexible mind and stout heart, who belonged to the class least prepared to withstand it… There is no ”moaning at the bar” for our Cynthia… She grabbed at commissions whenever they were offered and race after deadlines, even when she had to meet them with a family gathering or extensive house party in full swing…This is in such striking contract to the perennial wailing of the Russian aristocracy when suddenly forced to earn their own livings and otherwise behave like ordinary human being, that we find ourselves doffing our hat and raising a cheer for the ruling class of England.’ This is Augustus John’s painting of Cynthia, 1917. It’s in Ontario.