Walpole may be
bracketed together
"But you've told us nothing!" we expostulated"Or do you mean that these
gentlemen have greatly surpassed Jane-Elliot and that English fiction
is--where's that review of yours? Oh, yes, 'safe in their hands'"
"Safe, quite safe," she said, shifting uneasily from foot to foot"And
I'm sure that they give away even more than they receive
We were all sure of that"But," we pressed her, "do they write good
books?"
"Good books?" she said, looking at the ceiling "You must remember," she
began, speaking with extreme rapidity, "that fiction is the mirror of
lifeAnd you can't deny that education is of the highest importance, and
that it would be extremely annoying, if you found yourself alone at
Brighton late at night, not to know which was the best boarding house to
stay at, and suppose it was a dripping Sunday evening--wouldn't it be nice
to go to the Movies?"
"But what has that got to do with it?" we asked
"Nothing--nothing--nothing whatever," she replied
"Well, tell us
chloe dior the truth," we bade her
"The truth? But isn't it wonderful," she broke off--"MrChitter has
written a weekly article for the past thirty years upon love or hot
buttered toast and has sent all his sons to Eton--"
"The truth!" we demanded
"Oh, the truth," she stammered, "the truth has nothing to do with
literature," and sitting down she refused to say another word
It all seemed to us very inconclusive
"Ladies, we must try to sum up the results," Jane was beginning, when a
hum, which had been heard for some time through the open window, drowned
her voice
"War! War! War! Declaration of War!" men were shouting in the street
below
We looked at each other in horror
"What war?" we cried"What war?" We remembered, too late, that we had
never thought of sending anyone to the House of CommonsWe had forgotten
all about itWe turned to Poll, who had reached the history shelves in
the London Library, and asked her to enlighten us
"Why," we cried, "do men go to war?"
"Sometimes for one reason, sometimes for
men's omega watch another," she replied calmly"In 1760, for example--" The shouts outside drowned her words"Again in
1797--in 1804--It was the Austrians in 1866-1870 was the
Franco-Prussian--In 1900 on the other hand--"
"But it's now 1914!" we cut her short
"Ah, I don't know what they're going to war for now," she admitted
* * * * *
The war was over and peace was in process of being signed, when I once
more found myself with Castalia in the room where our meetings used to be
heldWe began idly turning over the pages of our old minute books"Queer," I mused, "to see what we were thinking five years ago "We are
agreed," Castalia quoted, reading over my shoulder, "that it is the
object of life to produce good people and good books We made no comment
upon that"A good man is at any rate honest, passionate and unworldly
"What a woman's language!" I observed"Oh, dear," cried Castalia,
pushing the book away from her, "what fools we were! It was all Poll's
father's fault," she went on"I believe he did it on
chanel jewellery purpose--that
ridiculous will, I mean, forcing Poll to read all the books in the London
LibraryIf we hadn't learnt to read," she said bitterly, "we might still
have been bearing children in ignorance and that I believe was the
happiest life after allI know what you're going to say about war," she
checked me, "and the horror of bearing children to see them killed, but
our mothers did it, and their mothers, and their mothers before themAnd
they didn't complainI've done my best," she sighed,
"to prevent my little girl from learning to read, but what's the use? I
caught Ann only yesterday with a newspaper in her hand and she was
beginning to ask me if it was 'true' Next she'll ask me whether MrLloyd George is a good man, then whether MrArnold Bennett is a good
novelist, and finally whether I believe in GodHow can I bring my
daughter up to believe in nothing?" she demanded
"Surely you could teach her to believe that a man's intellect is, and
always will be, fundamentally superior to a woman's?" I suggestedShe
brightened
fendi spy bags at this and began to turn over our old minutes again"Yes,"
she said, "think of their discoveries, their mathematics, their science,
their philosophy, their scholarship--" and then she began to laugh, "I
shall never forget old Hobkin and the hairpin," she said, and went on
reading and laughing and I thought she was quite happy, when suddenly she
drew the book from her and burst out, "Oh, Cassandra, why do you torment
me? Don't you know that our belief in man's intellect is the greatest
fallacy of them all?" "What?" I exclaimed"Ask any journalist,
schoolmaster, politician or public house keeper in the land and they will
all tell you that men are much cleverer than women "As if I doubted
it," she said scornfully"How could they help it? Haven't we bred them
and fed and kept them in comfort since the beginning of time so that they
may be clever even if they're nothing else? It's all our doing!" she
cried"We insisted upon having intellect and now we've got itAnd it's
intellect," she continued, "that's at the bottom
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