A while back I mentioned I was looking for a biography of John Buchan; well, seven years on I have one and it's certainly worth the wait.
In that 2012 post I also said I had not read a word JB had written, and quotations apart that still stands, so why - you might well ask - have I been so keen to learn more about him? That Karsh portrait (you'll find it via the above link) was one thing, the extraordinary CV another, a memory from childhood of the Hitchcock/Donat film, a notion to walk the John Buchan Way (in lovely country not far from us), a book by his sister and one by his wife; all these fed my curiosity. I was intrigued by this son of the manse, the brilliant scholar who was the bestselling author of his day, the statesman who inspired devotion in his staff and respect in his peers.
In Beyond the Thirty-Nine Steps, Ursula Buchan has told me all I wanted to know about her remarkable grandfather, but in addition to her eloquent and elegant marshalling of the facts of his life (fascinating in itself), she has given us a picture of the man which fulfils my hope that here was someone truly, personally, special. Throughout the book we are shown JB's "famous courtesy and good nature", his work ethic, loyalty, gift for friendship and capacity for kindness, his modesty and intellect, his "humility, humanity and humour."
A passage which seems to sum up that character is the following:
"After JB's death, his son Alastair wrote that his father had developed to a high degree what the Greeks called Sophrosyne, an inner harmony which engendered spiritual restraint. From this 'sprang a force so warm and positive that it charged the air around him. This lack of jealousy and anger, springing not from indifference but conviction, so pervaded the climate of his mind and of his conversation, that in his company one forgot the cheap jibe and the vindictive comment'."
Last summer, leaving Oxford for the long drive north, we sought out Elsfield, the village in which John Buchan and his family made a happy home from 1920 to 1935. In the churchyard is his resting place - and that of his wife - marked with a distinctive circular stone on which is inscribed a Latin couplet which translates as "His own earth here holds a man who cultivated the muses, served his country and was loved by countless friends". As good an epitaph as one might wish, and a succinct summing up of a uniquely talented and engaging person, but for the full measure of the man, look to this excellent, clear-sighted biography, of which its subject would, I'm sure, be proud.