all sorts of things-"
"That's Lord Wrassleton," she interrupted, "whose leg was broken-
you remember?-at Spion Kop."
"It's healed very well. I like the gold lace and the white glove
resting, with quite a nice awkwardness, on the sword. When I was a
little boy I wanted to wear clothes like that. And the stars! He's
got the V. C. Most of these people here have at any rate shown
pluck, you know-brought something off."
"Not quite enough," she suggested.
"I think that's it," I said. "Not quite enough-not quite hard
enough," I added.
She laughed and looked at me. "You'd like to make us," she said.
"What?"
"Hard."
"I don't think you'll go on if you don't get hard."
"We shan't be so pleasant if we do."
"Well, there my puzzled wits come in again. I don't see why an
aristocracy shouldn't be rather hard trained, and yet kindly. I'm
not convinced that the resources of education are exhausted. I want
to better this, because it already looks so good."
"How are we to do it?" asked Mrs. Redmondson.
"Oh, there you have me! I've been spending my time lately in trying
to answer that! It makes me quarrel with"-I held up my fingers and
ticked the items off-"the public schools, the private tutors, the
army exams, the Universities, the Church, the general attitude of
the country towards science and literature-"
"We all do," said Mrs. Redmondson. "We can't begin again at the
beginning," she added.
"Couldn't one," I nodded at the assembly in general, start a
movement?
"There's the Confederates," she said, with a faint smile that masked
a gleam of curiosity… "You want," she said, "to say to the
aristocracy, 'Be aristocrats. NOBLESSE OBLIGE.' Do you remember
what happened to the monarch who was told to 'Be a King'?"
"Well," I said, "I want an aristocracy."
"This," she said, smiling, "is the pick of them. The backwoodsmen
are off the stage. These are the brilliant ones-the smart and the
blues… They cost a lot of money, you know."
So far Mrs. Redmondson, but the picture remained full of things not
stated in our speech. They were on the whole handsome people,
charitable minded, happy, and easy. They led spacious lives, and
there was something free and fearless about their bearing that I
liked extremely. The women particularly were wide-reading, fine-
thinking. Mrs. Redmondson talked as fully and widely and boldly as
a man, and with those flashes of intuition, those startling, sudden
delicacies of perception few men display. I liked, too, the
relations that held between women and men, their general tolerance,
their antagonism to the harsh jealousies that are the essence of the
middle-class order…
After all, if one's aim resolved itself into the development of a
type and culture of men, why shouldn't one begin at this end?
It is very easy indeed to generalise about a class or human beings,
but much harder to produce a sample. Was old Lady Forthundred, for
instance, fairly a sample? I remember her as a smiling, magnificent
presence, a towering accumulation of figure and wonderful shimmering
blue silk and black lace and black hair, and small fine features and
chins and chins and chins, disposed in a big cane chair with wraps
and cushions upon the great terrace of Champneys. Her eye was blue
and hard, and her accent and intonation were exactly what you would
expect from a rather commonplace dressmaker pretending to be
aristocratic. I was, Iam afraid, posing a little as the
intelligent but respectful inquirer from below investigating the
great world, and she was certainly posing as my informant. She
affected a cynical coarseness. She developed a theory on the
governance of England, beautifully frank and simple. "Give 'um all
a peerage when they get twenty thousand a year," she maintained.
"That's my remedy."
In my new role of theoretical aristocrat I felt a little abashed.
"Twenty thousand," she repeated with conviction.
It occurred to me that I was in the presence of the aristocratic
theory currently working as distinguished from my as yet
unformulated intentions.
"You'll get a lot of loafers and scamps among 'um," said Lady
Forthundred. "You get loafers and scamps everywhere, but you'll get
a lot of men who'll work hard to keep things together, and that's
what we're all after, isn't ut?
"It's not an ideal arrangement."
"Tell me anything better," said Lady Forthundred.
On the whole, and because she refused emphatically to believe in
education, Lady Forthundred scored.
We had been discussing Cossington's recent peerage, for Cossington,
my old schoolfellow at City Merchants', and my victor in the affair
of the magazine, had clambered to an amazing wealth up a piled heap
of energetically pushed penny and halfpenny magazines, and a group
of daily newspapers. I had expected to find the great lady hostile
to the new-comer, but she accepted him, she gloried in him.
"We're a peerage," she said, "but none of us have ever had any
nonsense about nobility."