Message #99, Dave:

You're absolutely right about the Captain, one can't really dislike him; PseudoErasmus calls him a 'merry rogue'. Prendergrast is coming right up in Chapter IV.

I love that speech that you quoted; I think it might be the best one in D & F, as you say.

I've often wondered why Waugh's books were not more naturalistic, since many characters are recognizable to anyone who is familiar with his biography, or at least pieces of characters are. They do become more realistic from BRIDESHEAD through the trilogy. Anyone have any thoughts on this?

DAVE ROLL (102)

I sort of answered your question when I distinguished between institutional satire and character-based satire (like Flaubert's), which depicts more realistic characters and motivations. Also, the satire of D & F is more traditional in some respects, and *perhaps* a more auspicious vehicle for the depiction of gross and casual absurdity. (Can you imagine Candide or Gulliver redone naturalistically?) It's also possible that Waugh was maturing! I don't want to imply that naturalism = maturity, but the novels from Brideshead to the trilogy are self-evidently the works of a much older man, with more experience, with a greater sense of what Johnson said, "nothing can please too long when there is not a just representation oflife".

Grimes escapes from prison, riding off into the fog on a stolen horse. When the horse returns without him, he is presumed dead. "Paul knew that Grimes was not dead. Lord Tangent was dead; Mr. Prendergast was dead; the time would even come for Paul Pennyfeather; but Grimes, Paul at last realized, was one of the immortals. He was a life force....Surely he had followed in the Bacchic train of distant Arcady, and played on the reeds of myth by forgotten streams, and taught the childish satyrs the art oflove? Had he not suffered unscathed the fearful dooms of all the offended gods, of all the histories, fire, brimstone, and yawning earthquakes, plauge, and pestilence, Had he not stood, like the Pompeian sentry, while the Citadels of the Plain fell to ruin about his ears? Had he not, like some grease-caked Channel-swimmer, breasted thewaves of the Deluge? Had he not moved unseen when the darkness covered the waters?"

We met Grimes on the Freud thread. He can stand anything but repression.

PseudoErasmus 103

PseudoErasmus, are you having the same experience I'm having? I don't know when I last read this book; some time ago. This is my third or fourth reading. It was the book that introduced me to absurdity, "black" humor, and perhaps satirein general. (I read Gullier as a children'story.) This time through, wonderful as it is, I am finding it deficient in the fullness that is so satisfyingly present in the trilogy.

Daveroll, I think you're being a bit unfair, judging D&F in the light of the trilogy. For one thing, Waugh was a bit younger when he wrote D&F. Give a young man his due! But don't you think that once you've read the trilogy, you reread D&F ina whole new light, knowing where Waugh will ultimately fetch up?

Accidie. Hmmm. Now there's a word we don't hear enough of these days.

The discussion of Parsee names, while a gross digression from matters Waughian (try saying it aloud) is too interesting to ignore.

There were great Indian cricketers named Engineer and Contractor. Were they Parsees?

Also, I was always intrigued by Mohandas Gandhi's first name. Mohandas in Arabic means engineer. Could it be descended from Mogul times?

allofuss:

Yes, Engineer and Contractor are good Parsee names. I had a Parsee friend with the name Ginwalla, descended from bootleggers!

As for Gandhi, I am quite certain that a Brahmin Hindu would have little likelihood of possessing Moghulblood.

And you make a good point about Waugh's age when he wrote D&F (his first novel) and the Trilogy (his last novels)... there is a span of 30-40 years there.

God God, I didn't mean to suggest D & F was anything short of classic or that I don't weep at the end! I am just a little surprised at not loving it as much as I used to! I got old. Sorry if I'm opening the door to the scoffers; I was assuming we were all Waughiors in the fray.

Dave Roll, well, I first read D & F when I was 17, in public school, whose curriculum was heavy on the 17th and 18th centuries. And I had just finished reading both Candide and Gulliver's Travels, which delighted me, and the master suggested (ratherimpishly) that I read Decline and Fall. I loved the book partly for reasons stated in Message #13, but mostly because it is a book an intelligent adolescent could appreciate, what with all the grotesques and the easy black humour.

Now morethan 10 years later, I have reread it and haven't found it as good as I did originally. It *does* seem shallower - but then in the intervening period I have read books for "older" people like Flaubert's Sentimental Education and Waugh's later novels. But the criticism isn't meant as severe. I still laughed a lot while reading it. And I have also been disppointed by rereadings of Gulliver's Travels and Candide.

What I felt after rereading D & F was schadenfreude for all the nasty things that had happened. Unlike you, I didn't really emote. I didn't feel the overwhelming sense of wistful, fatigued resignation that one feels at the end of Candide.

By the way, we should do Sentimental Education!

Re: Parsees

The most common spelling of the word is "Parsi" by the way.

These Zoroastrian emigrants to India did take up names related to their professions under the British and there are several hysterical ones.

Sodabottlewalla (I kid you not)

Umbrellawalla

Newspaperwalla

Merchants, Contractors, Engineers, Doctors, Lawyers abound. I know a Dentist.

PseudoErasmus 110

It was the shallowness that surprised me. The schadenfreude--perhaps I am crueler than I was when young--is often funny. I laughed aloud, and I'm still laughing, about Prendergast getting drunk and announcing when Paul and Grimes return from the pub "I've just caned 23 boys." It's the number of course that makes it funny. Most of the humor is still funny and almost never sophomoric, which cannot be said of most of Waugh's imitators. There is a kind of irony in this book that is almost uniquely Waugh. No one had a sharper ear for the meaningless cliches in the English Language. What moved me was the cumulative effect of "To Fortune, that much-maligned goddess,' who is personified by Margot. By the time we reach Silenus's speech about the Ferris wheel, the toast has become a very bitter one, and Peter Pastmaster is portrayed with utter realism, dry-eyed on Waugh's part. In Auberon Waugh's autobiography, and nowhere else, an anecdote about Evelyn's death appears: he keeled over in the bathroom, but not without first defecating on the hall floor. I don't really believe this story, but I think it explains Waugh.

As for Sentimental Education, let's do it by all means. It has my vote as the greatest modern novel. There are those who reserve that palm for Proust, but I am not among them.

PseudoErasmus 110

It was the shallowness that surprised me. The schadenfreude--perhaps I am crueler than I was when young--is often funny. I laughed aloud, and I'm still laughing, about Prendergast getting drunk and announcing when Paul and Grimes return from the pub "I've just caned 23 boys." It's the number of course that makes it funny. Most of the humor is still funny and almost never sophomoric, which cannot be said of most of Waugh's imitators. There is a kind of irony in this book that is almost uniquely Waugh. No one had a sharper ear for the meaningless cliches in the English Language. What moved me was the cumulative effect of "To Fortune, that much-maligned goddess,' who is personified by Margot. By the time we reach Silenus's speech about the Ferris wheel, the toast has become a very bitter one, and Peter Pastmaster is portrayed with utter realism, dry-eyed on Waugh's part. In Auberon Waugh's autobiography, and nowhere else, an anecdote about Evelyn's death appears: he keeled over in the bathroom, but not without first defecating on the hall floor. I don't really believe this story, but I think it explains Waugh.

As for Sentimental Education, let's do it by all means. It has my vote as the greatest modern novel. There are those who reserve that palm for Proust, but I am not among them.

allofuss 106

Accidie. I suppose I should have just said sloth, but in America we think sloth is just laziness, when the sin--the deadly one, of which Evelyn Waugh was a victim--was the awful hopelessness variously expressed as despair, drunkenness, nastiness, sleeplessness, deafness, a sense of pointlessness, emptiness, and inability to act. Paul Pennyfeather is an extreme case of this last, and is otherwise hardly exceptional, but it is his question: Why bother to have made the world? the identifieshim. Nowadays we call it depression, but it's the same thing it always was. As R. Crumb puts it "What's the use?"

To put my comments on sin in a context, I see this novel as expressing the feelings of a man who has no religious belief whatsoever, but who is also not the kind of healthy atheist Grimes is characterized as being. He finds the subject of Prendergast's "doubts" as absurd as Sllenus's machine for living architecture. The mocker's eye and ear--and tongue--are given added force throughout by the undertone of desperation, which is actually a longing for spiritual solace that only religion can provide. For if the world is irredeemably evil, and reality has a malignant, eyeless, inhuman face, nothing that reconciles you to the world will be of use. It's not as if someone could have prescribed to the young Waugh the remedy of a healthy dose of Fielding. His admiration for the ironic stance of Thackeray is apparent in all his work; his pleasure in the grotesquerie of Dickens (the descriptions of the prisons in D & F); but he had no complacency--his sensibility had a huge hole in it.

The only other writer I can think of who has this kind of dark view of life and cruelly comic invention is Flannery O'Connor, also a Catholic in a particularly benighted part of the world. It occurs to me that only a conviction that the world is a Vale of Tears, and accompanying hope of another world, can render life in the world supportable to certain people. Anyone who is reading the Waugh-Mitford correspondence will see what I mean; their senses of humor and wickedness were very similar, their mutual understanding immense, but religion divided them. Waugh is sometimes accused of being insincere in his Catholicism, perhaps because he was a convert. I myself have sometimes wished he had written more knockabout funny satires than he did, but the truth isthat SCOOP, PUT OUT MORE FLAGS, and BLACK MISCHIEF, all post-conversion books, are funny in the same way as their predecessors. He never wrote religious propaganda (not even HELENA). If Catholicism did one thing for Evelyn Waugh, it kept him alive long enough to write the great novels of his maturity, well past the age he thought of as his prime and long after he thought he had used up his writer's capital. I supposse the price we pay as readers is that Waugh's admiration for the life-force is somewhat diminished in later work, and Mrs. Stitch already looks forward to the sadness of Wallis Simpson or, for that matter, Diana Spencer, who reach early middle age and discover themselves to be uselesss, and in that sense fall off the ferris wheel of fortune.

DAVE ROLL - Message #112

Re: the humour. My favorite piece of comic schadenfreude in D & F is the "death of the modern churchman", coming on the heels of the bracing description of the snarling, burly, red-bearded religious fanatic of the prison. This is much more sadistic and meaninglessly cruel than Prendergast's caning of 23 boys, who were probably an appalling lot anyway. Prendergast is depicted as not all that awful, mostly as a spiritually weak man. So the shadenfreude at his death is greatly amplified.

I don't want to cause Allofuss apoplexy or cardiac arrest, but I think the satire of D & F much more closely resembles the pot-shot satire of the animated TV show Simpsons than Waugh's later novels or Flaubert's Sentimental Education. The Simpsons parades a glittering cast of bizarre characters who are portrayed as weak, cowardly, stupid, greedy, ignorant, lazy and cruel in casual throw-away bursts which never cumulate to satirical unity. That is, it doesn't really go anywhere. And if D & F does go somewhere, it's largely because, like the aphoristic "resolution" of Candide, the tidy wrapping-up of D & W is a bit contrived and even arbitrary.

After you said in Message #114, "Nowadays we call it depression, but it's the same thing it always was...", I think I much better appreciated your use of the word "accidie". Today we live in a climate where alcoholism is seen not as evidence of weakness or decadence, but as disease; where such things as "multiplie-chemical sensitivity" can exist. Robustly un-Waughian (to rhyme with ruffian?), don't you think?

And now for something completely different.....In an eponymous essay on a novelist named Ronald Firbank, Waugh argues that "19th century novelists were bound by the arbitrary convention of the succession of events in a cause-to-effect relationship". He goes on to say that this Firbank, whose influence on himself he deems paramount, solved the problem of representation in fiction because "he remained objective and yet bulit up his compositions....so that occasionally a brief visualimages flashes out to illumine and explain the flickering succession of spoken words". By keeping narration and description to a minimum and enacting the plot through a collection of vignettes rather than through cumulative action, Firbank found "a new balanced interrelation of technique and form". Sounds familiar?

In line with PseudoErasmus's Message #118, it's also interesting to note that Waugh was a talented caricaturist and illustrator; the first edition of D & F had several illustrations by Waugh. The series of vignettes, then, can also be seen as caricatures translated into language.

Besides Firbank, another influence may have been Max Beerbhohm, author of ZULEIKA DOBSON, another prose parody, of whom Waugh wrote: 'Max Beerbohm was an idol of my adolescence to whom every year ... deepened my devotion'.

Before continuing with the Chapter Summaries, I'd like to expand upon something alluded to earlier, the parallels between D & F and ALICE IN WONDERLAND. Each begins with a fall, you'll remember, moreover, a fall that is dreamlike in its inevitability. Both Paul and Alice are put in circumstances that are beyond their control, as they literally travel from one world to another.

Like Alice, Paul must become accustomed to the absurd rules of his new world, acquiring a series of bizarre companions who insist on meddling in his life. Thus, Paul's passivity can be understood not only in terms of a lack of passion and initiative, but also by seeing him as acted upon by forces that have reduced him to the level of a pawn.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter IV - Mr Prendergast

Having successfully outwitted Mr Prendergast for use of the only bathroom for the masters (thanks to a tip from his pal Beste-Chetwynde, who has taken Paul under his wing), Paul begins his first full day at Llanabba. Like the creatures that insist on telling Alice their tales, Mr Prendergast tells Paul the story of his life. 'I expect you wonder how I came to be here?' he asks Paul, and rolls right past his objections.

Ten years before, Mr Prendergast had been a clergyman of the Church of England with his own snug living in Worthing (an extremely attractive church and rectory), with his mother to keep house for him. It was a pleasant chintz-curtained, cozy life until the *Doubts* began, not three months after their arrival, right out of the blue one Sunday evening.

Not the ordinary Doubts, like wondering if the old testament miracles actually took place, Prendergast had been taught how to explain those while still at college. 'I couldn't understand why God had made the world at all', cries Prendergast to Paul, '...I've not known an hour's real happiness since.'

Mr Prendergast went to his bishop about this crisis of faith, but was curtly told that as far as his practical duties to the parish were concerned, the point hardly arose. (More about Waugh and religion later.) Increasingly assaulted by Doubt, Prendergast saw that the only honorable solution was to resign his living. The shock was hardest on his mother, who had, after all, purchased the chintz curtains for the rectory with her own money.

A bell rings and Prendergast says to Paul that they must go to prayers (!), and that perhaps he can go back to the ministry if he ever sees the Light. A boy named Clutterbuck runs past them and Prendergast nonchalantly says 'That's a nasty little boy if ever there was one.'

mgleason,

The reason for the "must" go to prayers....

At the time Waugh wrote all the public schools and universities required morning chapel. It was the assembly where roll was taken and announcements were made as well as the morning prayer..

This chapter is important for one reason, the reinforcement it provides to the idea that in the meaningless decaying civilization depicted in D &F, religion has become a matter of form over substance. Echoing the lack of concern shown by Scone College's Chaplain to Paul, Prendergast's Bishop turned his Doubts aside, and expected him to carry on with his duties.

True to the topsy-turvy rules of Paul's new world, the one without Doubts is Grimes, who in the previous chapter had confided to Paulhis own guiding principles: '...You know, God's in His heaven; all's right with the world.' It is very fitting that in a world where only the *appearances* of morality remain, the one to take comfort in the forms is Grimes, who is without morals of any sort.

exactly why morning prayer was so interesting. Prayer really took very little of the time, but the idea of "chapel" was held onto by the schools and government.

Message #122, Bev:

Good point, Bev. The reason for the (!) was the very casual way in which going to prayers is mentioned by Prendergast almost in the same breath as his Doubts, further underscoring the lack of meaning.

kp*smile*

Hey maria, notice how chapel in D&F is the exact equivalent of Bodmin's hats in Wodehouse? One must espouse belief or let in chaos!

Bev: If only Prendergast had been a Wodehouse fan, eh?

True, true. Then he would have known where one must REALLY place one's faith. Hats are so much more reliable y'know.

Chapter four is important for another reason: it establishes that Grimes rarely has a bath (which I think we all had suspected).

Where do you think he got his name?

Hahahahahahahahaha!!!!

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter V - Discipline

Prayers are heard in the main hall of the Castle, Paul has his first contact of the day with the unwashed Grimes (cf. coralreef and Irv), who smells of drink from the night before. Grimes expounds on his "Mornings at Seven" philosophy to Paul in his best Panglossian manner, and gives Paul an important tip: 'I don't believe one can ever be unhappy for long provided one does just exactly what one wants to and when one wants to.'

As the bell stops ringing, Dr Fagan makes a regal entrance, doctoral robes billowing in his wake. He picks up a bible, speeds through a chapter of 'blood curdling military history' and the Lord's Prayer, and reads the day's announcements. Among these is the statement that someone has been smoking cheap cigars in the boiler room, and the culprit is asked to give himself up by lunchtime, or force the whole school to be punished. 'Damn!' says Grimes; 'I gave those cigars to Clutterbuck. I hope the little beast has the sense to keep quiet.' Not only is Grimes responsible for the cigars, but we also learn the true reason for Fagan's displeasure: smoking cheap cigars 'is *not* a gentlemanly fault.'

At the conclusion of prayers, Paul is abruptly thrown to his class. 'But what am I to teach them?' he cries. 'Oh, I shouldn't try to *teach* them anything, not just yet, anyway. Just keep them quiet', replies Grimes, and saunters into his own classroom to be greeted with a surge of applause. Numb and terror-stricken, Paul confronts his new class, where the boys immediately begin to play tricks on him. Evidently feeling rudeness to be the best defense in such a situation, Paul barks at them to keep quiet. At the moment when Paul is about to lose his nerve Grimesmakes an appearance carrying a walking stick, and advises Paul to set the class a task.

(continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter V - Discipline (conclusion)

His courage renewed, Paul faces the class, walking stick in hand, and announces that everyone will be kept in if there is just one more word. 'You can't keep me in,' says Clutterbuck, 'I'm going for a walk with Captain Grimes.' 'Then I shall nearly kill you with this stick', announces Paul, and sets them an essay on "Self-indulgence", the author of the longest composition to receive a half-crown. Not one further word was heard, and Clutterbuck wins the award.

Paul then encounters Prendergast, who is surprised to hear that Paul did not have trouble with the class, as he finds 'all boys utterly intractable.' Upon reflection, he says that it must have to do with his wig, which is a very obvious one. He asks Paul what made him come to Llanabba, and Paul tells him the truth. 'Oh yes, like Grimes?' asks Prendergast. 'No,' says Paul firmly, 'not like Grimes.' 'Oh, well, it's all much the same really,' replies the disinterested Prendergast.

Two days later at organ practice with Beste-Chetwynde (where Paul has made no attempt to even listen to him play), Paul is surprised to hear that he is a 'hit' with the fifth form. They consider him to be a decent master, says Beste-Chetwynde, who further confides his suspicions about Philbrick the butler to Paul. Philbrick is said to have a diamond tie-pin and ring with 'colossal great diamonds'. The boys believe him to be a Russian prince in exile.

Displaying what is perhaps the first sense of duty in D & F, Beste-Chetwynde insists on using the balance of his time to play the organ. 'After all,' he says, 'my mother does pay five guineas a term extra for me to learn.'

mgleason 133

"blood curdling military history." Dr. Fagan read it "without any evident relish." It isn't that he sped through it, but he read it without taking any interest in the blood-curdling aspect of the tale.

PseudoErasmus 117

Yes, the murder of Prendergast is more than equal to the death of Tangent. The hymn in which the information of his death is conveyed is a nice touch, too.

I have absolutely no taste for Ronald Firbank, although I have tried and tried. Waugh himself later said Firbank was an influence of his youth, one he felt it necessary to get over. I don't think however that he ever did. Whenever you see a page of unattributed dialogue, all in short exchanges, you see the influence of Firbank; also, in early Waugh in particular but also in some late works, stage-setting and scenery are dispensed with to an astonishing degree. Both writers thought well enough of readers to expect them to supply details of their own. But the writer must be incredibly talented to pull this off without looking simply lazy. Firbank is an ancestor of Hemingway as well, but also of Ivy Compton Burnett, William Gaddis, and perhaps James Hanley. It might be said that this mode of writing is what modernist fiction would have been if Joyce had never written and Beckett never been his secretary...but isn't the dialogue in GODOT a darker sort of Firbank mode, and isn't the utter absence of scenery in such works as COMPANY another kind of Firbankian influence?

In aletter to Nancy Mitford about The Loved One, Waugh complains that the critics do not review the book but start to attack him personally, and he asks, not unseriously, if he is so bad as all that. I am conscious as I read him of the vast number of things he says that are unpalatable today, but I am always amazed at how persistent this view of him is. I agree that biographical information should not intrude on works of literature, or not replace them, but I have been amazed at what a bad press Waugh gets, so that even his son's autobiography is said to be a negative portrait.

A quote from Waugh's quasi-autobiographical novella THE ORDEAL OF GILBERT PINFOLD (1957):

'It may happen in the next hundred years that the English novelist of the present day will come to be valued as we now value the artists and craftsmen of thelate eighteenth century... Among these novelists Mr Gilbert Pinfold stood quite high.'

Waugh's stated aim in writing novels was to make finely crafted objects; it's a good insight to keep in mind when traversing the carefully constructed labyrinth that is D & F.

PseudoErasmus - no apoplexy at all. It's funny you should mention the Simpsons. When I was looking for an analogy to Waugh vs. Wodehouse, one that came to mind was the Simpsons and Beavis & Butthead, but I hesitated to mention it lest I be booed off the thread. The difference is that I can barely remember any detail of a Simpson episode 10 minutes after I've seen it, whereas Waugh will be with me until death or Alzheimer's.

As to the humor "not going anywhere," I think you reinforce my point that one can't consider any single Waugh novel in isolation from the overall body of work. I read the characters in D&F knowing I will meet them again and again, getting older, sadder and more disllusioned with each passing novel. Waugh, not Powell, wrote the real Dance to the Music of Time, as far as I'm concerned. So to me, the humor is very definitely going somewhere.

One other thing: I wonder if it makes a difference whether you're a product of the English school system. I went to a sort of colonial Llanabba, only more pretentious, as colonial institutions usually were. I actually KNEW (and was caned by) masters who might say, "I've just caned 23 boys." I studied under Fagans in black robes, whacking us with rulers, bunsenburner tubes, miniature cricket bats, rhino tails, malacca canes, Turkish bastinado rods, and the fan belt of a pre-war Morris Minor. It was horrible, and also horribly funny. So when I read Waugh, there's the constant sting of recognition, which Americans may not feel it quite as acutely, having been raised in a far healthier and sensible school system.

And Daveroll, I meant my mention of accidie as a compliment. It's a beautiful word, so precise and subtle, and you reminded me of its existence, for which my thanks.

Allofuss, you could never be booed off any thread. There would follow such a hue and cry as would gladden even Waugh's heart.

ALLOFUSS (#138), I went to a genuine English public school, better than Llanabba, where I first read D & F, and my assessment of the novel is the same. (I wasn't caned, however, and most of my masters seemed to be Marxists! The image of a public school one gets in most novels is hopelessly outdated.)

D & F hilarious and good, but it is genuinely shallower on the second reading. I think one *can* consider the novel in isolation. It is a finished work, and, as such, is quite inferior tomany of the novels which followed. I don't think we should elevate the novel above its station just because we admire Waugh and his entire corpus.

allofuss 139

I was not offended, just thought I ought to elaborate. I was reading Selena Hastings' wonderful Waugh bio last night (PseudoErasmus 's uncredited source for the Firbank quotation) and she uses the word accidie to describe Waugh's conditionat the time of the writing of Decline and Fall.

I thought I ought to say more about what accidie is since sloth is far from evoking the nature of this sickness of the spirit that we now alleviate with Zoloft and Prozac; which is to say, we switchoff the promptings of the soul and think it means we feel better. For someone troubled with this complaint, the Catholic Church must have been the perfect antidote, up until Vatican II anyhow.

Anyway, thanks for the compliment.

DAVE ROLL (141)

Actually, I don't ever read author biographies and have never heard of Selena Hastings. I also didn't quote Firbank in Message #118, I quoted Waugh, from his essay, "Ronald Firbank", in _The Selected Writings of Evelyn Waugh_, Faber, 1963. [a selection of non-fiction].

PseudoErasmus 142

Sorry, I should have written "The Waugh quotation about Ronald Firbank," conscious that I was on the razor's edge of pedantry. I think I'm going to call for reinforcements now.

PseudoErasmus Message #140, perhaps you're right about the shallowness but personally I think comedy generally works best the first time you read it whereas tragedy tends to sink in more with rereadings. So I think as a satire it deserves it's high status.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter VI - Conduct

Paul reflects that it has been a pretty good week, all things considered. He was a hit with his form; they'd achieved peaceful coexistence so there'd been no punishments; the steady rain had prevented any games; and the nightly confessions from Grimes did much to expand his mind and enliven his life.

A letter comes for Paul from one of his four friends at Scone College, Arthur Potts, a serious chap who relates a visit from Digby-Vane-Trumpington, hostof the Bollinger Club dinner that had landed Paul in the soup. He'd asked Potts to apologize to Paul for him next time he writes and offered to send twenty pounds for damages, as a sign of good will. (Potts recounts that he'd sent him off with a flea inhis ear on Paul's behalf.) The letter concludes with a telling postscript in which he asks Paul whether he believes 'that the great problem of education is to train the moral perceptions, not merely to discipline the appetites.' (Substance over form.)Not surprisingly, the Chaplain of the college plumps for the latter, saying that too great a refinement of the moral senses can sap the will.

This letter gives Paul a lot to think about, certainly not about the moral issue, but about the twenty pounds. Grimes and Prendergast both urge him to take the money, why; it's more than a half-term's pay! Paul struggles with his conscience, but early training and dignity win out, and he resolves to eschew the money. 'It is a test-case of the durability of my ideals', he says to himself proudly.

Later that night in the bar-parlour of the pub, Paul explains his decision to Grimes at length. Although there is every reason for him to take the money, from Digby-Vane-Trumpington's wealth to the irreparable harm Paul has suffered, 'there is my honour', he says. '...I am a gentleman. I can't help it; it's born in me. I just can't take that money.'

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter VI - Conduct (Conclusion)

Grimes now springs his surprise: fearing this reaction from Paul, he'd cabled Potts (using Paul's name) to have Trumpington speed the money to Paul. 'Grimes, you wretch!' cries Paul, feeling a surge of satisfaction in his heart. They have a drink to celebrate; 'To the durability of ideals', toasts Paul.

Potts bemusedly forwards the money, and says some typically earnest things to the Paul he thinks he knows regarding education and an upcoming debate on 'Sex Repression and Religious Experience.' 'This same Potts.' says Grimes, 'would appear to be something of a stinker. .... How about a binge?'

Paul agrees with Grimes about the binge, and resolves to make up a party with Prendergast and have dinner at the Metropole one night. Prendergast is touched at this unexpected attention, and a tear courses down his cheek.

To me the 'moral' of the story, to the extent there is a single one, is summed up in the title of chapter one of part three "Stone walls do not a prison make" and Paul Pennyfeather's place in the world of the novel best summed up at the end of that chapter where he finds himself slightly better than the lunatics on either side of him.

The interesting thing about this chapter is that it offers a plan for the rest of the book by illustrating how former moral ideals have decayed into mere appearances of ideals, the triumph of form over substance in a meaningless world. The moment Paul abandons his "ideals" he is much happier, indeed, he displays not the slightest dismay when he finds out what Grimes has done.

Notice the two representations of religion: Prendergast, the failed cleric, and Scone's Chaplain. Prendergast is a failure because he cannot reconcile his Doubts and the Chaplain a success because he has no beliefs to doubt.

A few observations:

* I love the way Waugh continually makes fun of the ineffectual benevolence of those with power who do want to help. And also the way the upper class in the novel continually believe in their own magnanimaty regardless of how heartless they act.

* It's interesting that the class divide was bridged by a common racism. A particularly barbed point by the author I thought.

* One of the best black comic moments of cruelty was when on arriving Lady Circumfrence said '..Sorry we're late. Circumfrence ran over a fool of a boy.' Foreshadowing the casualness of Tangents' fate.

* The Simpsons comments were interesting. I'd compare the novel more to After Hours, the Martin Scorcese film.

I take a view contrary to what many in this thread have expressed and say that Waugh was probably at his best early in his career when he had not yet been totally seduced by the subject of his satire. Of course, I'm not as well read on him as some of you so I'd be interested to hear what you make of that.

Vincentvega, my point exactly, as I keep boring everyone with: you gotta read it all! And to appreciate all that went before, you've got to read the war trilogy, where the full flowering of all Waugh's satire, slapstick, compassion and rage is brought together in one seamless masterwork.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter VII - Philbrick

Dr Fagan makes a rare visit to the dining-hall and announces that the next day will be the Annual School Sports day. Mr Pennyfeather, that distinguished athlete (!) will be responsible for all arrangements, he adds, prizes to be awarded by the Countess of Circumference. 'Good God!' murmurs Paul.

After luncheon, Paul repairs to the morning room for his interview with Fagan, who is manic in his planning of the affair. There are to be many guests, foie gras sandwiches, champagne cup, 'banks' of flowers, even a band and fireworks. It is decided *not* to buy Mr Prendergast a new tie, shabby though Fagan had found him earlier, as this would be a shocking expense. Then there is the matter of prizes; Lady Circumference will distribute parsley crowns - utility, economy, and apparent (!) durability are to be the hallmarks here. Paul is designated to see that no boy win more than two events, with little Lord Tangent and Beste-Chetwynde winning something as well, since their mothers will be there. Fagan apologizes for the short notice, but Lady Circumference had announced her visit only that morning.

It is raining again by the time Paul and Prendergast reach the playing fields, and they find a group of boys huddled together against the chill. Philbrick arrives, announces that the hurdles and jumping posts have been burnt for firewood, so they must improvise until some can be rented. Philbrick sneers at having to put up a 'blasted tent' like a 'blinking arab'. He's a butler, dammit, but not just any butler, he says, as he settles down to tell Paul the story of his life, despite Paul's protests. Prendergast is set supervising the boys on the first heat of the first race.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter VII - Philbrick (Continued)

Philbrick allows to being Sir Solomon Philbrick. 'You've only to say Solly Philbrick of the "Lamb and Flag", anywhere south of Waterloo Bridge to see what fame is', he says. *Sir* Solomon is actually what the boys call him, out of respect, though, he's just 'Plain Mr Solomon Philbrick', and proud of it, having been brought up 'rough, damned rough.'

"Chick" Solomon, his dad, 'a good hearted sort of fellow but rough' got Philbrick started in the sporting world, where Philbrick met his future partner. Had Paul ever heard of "Chick" who'd been a 'useful little boxer'? No. How about Toby Cruttwell, the man that was to become Philbrick's partner? No. Philbrick is surprised at this. Cruttwell had pulled off the great Buller diamond robbery of 1912, the Amalgamated Steel Trust robbery of 1910, and the Isle of Wight burglaries in 1914. Right before the war they split, and Philbrick had taken the proceeds from the Steel Trust and Diamond jobs and opened a snug pub (the Lamb and Flag), and a picture house next door, as well. Cruttwell, says Philbrick, having earned a V.C. in the war (Victoria Cross) is now Major Cruttwell, Conservative member of Parliament.

One Saturday night, a widowed Philbrick ('Didn't tell you I was married, did I?') had gone into his bar. After his bereavement Philbrick had begun to take an interest in crime, thinking of the old days, don't you know, and who does he see in the bar but Jimmy Drage, a 'cove' he used to know from working with Cruttwell. Jimmy was looking pretty down, and upon being applied to, admitted to having bungled a job, a kidnapping job.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter VII - Philbrick (Continued)

Jimmy had 'nobbled' the son of a 'toff' called Lord Utterbridge, a 'nasty little kid about twelve'. Everything had gone splendidly, from planning to execution, until he receives a reply from Lord Utterbridge regarding Jimmy's demand for Ransom. Lord Utterbridge thanked Jimmy for his trouble, and gratefully appreciated the action Jimmy had taken on his behalf, but as he had acted with no instructions, he did not feel called upon to make payment for the service performed. Having received no further answer to another few letters, Jimmy had no choice but to let the kid go.

Philbrick chastised Jimmy for not having pulled out the kid's teeth to send to his father, or cutting off one of his fingers to stick in the letter box, saying Jimmy did not deserve to succeed if he didn't know his job. This gets him to thinking, and he bets Jimmy that he can pull off a job like that on any kid, any day of the week. They settle on Lady Circumference's only son, Lord Tangent, and that's what had brought Philbrick to Llanabba.

Paul wonders why he's been told this story and tells Philbrick that he shall certainly inform the police. Philbrick assures Paul that this is all in the past. Once at Llanabba he had met his fate, in the person of Dina (Dingy to Grimes), the younger Miss Fagan. 'That girl,' says Philbrick, 'could bring a man up from the depths of hell itself.' They mean to be married, and Philbrick knows himself to be a lucky man, as shehas proved herself an astute business woman by starving, then dismissing most of the servants. Just the ticket for the pub. 'Love's a wonderful thing,' says Philbrick.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter VII - Philbrick (Conclusion)

At this point, Prendergast comes back, none of the boys having returned from the heats. 'Like sending troops into battle', says Prendergast, knowing they weren't going to come back. He and Paul decide to call it a day, and meet Grimes back at the Common Room. How were the heats, he asks, and Paul admits that there were none.

'Quite right,' says Grimes, and settles down to list the results of the competitions for the printers. How doPaul and Prendergast like the outcome? 'Clutterbuck seems to have done pretty well,' says Paul. 'Yes, he's a splendid little athlete,' says Grimes.

In Chapter VII Philbrick is revealed as the genuine article, a true villain. Not a rogue like Grimes, but the kind that makes no moral distinctions whatsoever, and is a perfect embodiment of the decay of a civilization. Philbrick's tale is a precursor of what's to come, a harbinger, as we move on to the fateful Sports day itself.

Throughout his journey Paul is warned against the red-haired emotional Welsh and also to be wary of laymen who become interested in religion, a sign of insanity it's said. Then who does he find himself stuck with as a partner in the prison yard but a red-bearded homicidal man who's hearing religious voices and is clearly meant to be Welsh. I thought that part was very funny.

To me, Grimes clearly represents the desire by Waugh to get out from under repression and the little voice he said is inside every Englishman holding him back from doing what he really wants.

My impression was that Mrs. Beste-Chetwynde was the most morally dubious of the main characters, allowing Paul to be sent away for a seven year prison term for her crime, with Philbrick just being a compulsive liar and conman.

VincentVega: Margot is certainly in a class by herself. Philbrick, however, frightens me because he is so unbelievably casual about his wickedness. There is no spite in him at all.

To all: apologies for the delay in posting; my ISP has been giving me fits. I'll finish with the rest of Part I today.

What wickedness? Those stories were all made up, weren't they? The really bad ones, I mean. It's not like he caned 23 boys or ran over a 'fool of a boy'. So there!

I'm not saying that there aren't worse villains in D & F. Philbrick is frightening because of his complete lack of moral compass, not because I think him evil. He is excruciatingly funny, of course, but he is a perfect indication of what happens inan absurd world, everything is true and false at the same time.

I first read a Waugh book when I was about 17 and was

utterly charmed, perhaps because I felt it to so

perfectly express my sense of the dichotomy between

the ideas people give voice to and those that direct

their serious life decisions. When I finally read D&F

I felt THIS was the most effective expression of that

facet of what Waugh had to say. Unlike Waugh, I have

come to believe that this dichotomy is a profound human

principle, that the professing of unifying ideasis

just as fundamental as is the expectation that a

responsible adult will act on the basis of practical

considerations.

I endorse the comment earlier in the thread that praised

the war trilogy: I think that was the best serious

statement Waugh ever made. One comment: I thought Paul's

character was intended to be congruous with his intent to

become a churchman, for whom neither religious belief or

passion were expected, and his return in the end to that

profession was entirely appropriate.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapters VIII and IX - The Sports

It is a fortuitously sunny day. Everyone at Llanabba puts on their glad rags in celebration of the Sports, some more successfully than others. Grimes and Prendergast repair to the pub for fortification. Fagan fills Paul in on previous attempts at jollification: 'One way or another, I have been consistently unfortunate in my efforts at festivity. And yet I look forward to each new fiasco with the utmost relish.' The stage is set for mayhem.

They make their way to the playing fields, finding Philbrick clad in the dazzling mustard-coloured suit of plus-fours (men's long wide knickers) which he insisted on wearing while serving lunch. Fagan requests him to remove these 'loathsome garments.' Inside the marquee for the visitors' tea, Dingy is supervising the display of provisions.

Paul finds that nothing has been done about marking out the ground for the various races, that the hurdles are five feet high, and that no other sporting equipment is present. Fagan is undismayed and instructs Paul to do the best he can. Everything *looks* just fine, after all, and he is concerned with 'style', though he does yearn for a starting pistol. Philbrick produces a large service revolver, which he carries when wearing his diamonds.

Then the group that enlivened PseudoErasmus's first reading of D & F make an appearance. 'Ten men of revolting appearance were approaching from the drive. They were low of brow, crafty of eye, and crooked of limb. They advanced huddled together with the loping tread of wolves, peering about them furtively as they came, as though in constant terror of ambush; they slavered at their mouths, which hung loosely over their receding chins, while each clutched under his ape-like arm a burden of curious and unaccountable shape.'

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapters VIII and IX - The Sports (Continued)

Much alarmed, Fagan and Philbrick refuse to believe the evidence of their eyes, and Philbrick readies the service revolver. But, no, the group is revealed as the Llanabba Silver Band,under the direction of the stationmaster. With much 'baying and growling and yapping as of the jungle at moonrise', terms are agreed to (a fee of three pounds) and the band is sequestered until after tea.

'The Welsh character is an interesting study,' Fagan remarks to Paul, 'I have often considered writing a little monograph on the subject.' He gives his rhetorical powers full play, and discourses upon the iniquities of the Welsh, concluding with: 'They are deceitful because they cannot discerntruth from falsehood, depraved because they cannot discern the consequences of their indulgence.' (Quite an acute assessment by the good doctor of his own character, of course.)

They are interrupted with news of the arrival of Lord and Lady Circumference, the parents of little Lord Tangent. Paul and Fagan advance to the library to meet the distinguished guests, and Lady Circumference is revealed to be the hearty sort of English country woman in tweeds and a man's hat. Apologizing for the delay, she remarks that Lord C. had run over 'a fool of a boy.' (!) She begins a rambling discourse on subjects that range from the proper treatment of her son ('He wants beatin' and hittin' and knockin' about generally') to what Fagan pays his head gardener.

Paul turns his attention to the dimwitted Lord C., a caricature of the English landed gentry. They bring almost every conversational cliche to life, including the 'playing fields of England'. Mercifully, the time comes to adjourn to the playing fields,and en route, Lord C. asks Paul if he knew his wife's nephew, Alastair Digby-Vane-Trumpington, while at Scone (our first indication of how Paul's nemeses are to turn up again and again).

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapters VIII and IX - The Sports (Continued)

Upon arriving at the playing-fields, they find an unusually vivacious Prendergast among those assembled. Lady C. is given pride of place, and the Sports begin. Paul announces the first race through a megaphone provided by Philbrick, reading from Grimes' results of the race. Fagan announces to Lady C. that Philbrick is Llanabba's boxing coach and swimming professional.

As Paul is announcing the race, Prendergast fires the starting pistol, wounding Lord Tangent in the foot. Tangent is carried to the marquee to be ministered to by Dingy, who gives him a slice of cake. 'That won't hurt him.' says Lady C., 'but I think someone ought to remove the pistol from that old man before he does anything serious.'

Full of hilarity, Prendergast is relieved of the pistol, and is set to keep time. The first race is duly run, and Prendergast makes an astute remark to Colonel Sidebotham: 'capital fellows *are* bounders', (which is a recurring theme, of course), and dances a little jig. Paul leads him away to the refreshment tent. Colonel Sidebotham and the Vicar engage in conversation about Prendergast, the Colonel opining that Prendy had been drinking. The Vicar, taking a more serious view, harks back to several remarks made by Prendergast regarding Church matters. 'I have noticed again and again since I have been in the Church that lay interest in ecclesiastical matters is often a prelude to insanity.' (Another theme, of course.)

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapters VIII and IX - The Sports (Continued)

Paul announces the next race, and the Clutterbuck family arrives. Fagan greets them with the news regarding all the jumping events that Clutterbuck (Grimes' favorite) has won. Meanwhile, Clutterbuck also wins the three miles open! But wait, Lady C. protests, 'That boy cheated. He only went round five times. I counted.' Unpleasantness erupts at this impugning of the Clutterbuck honour, and Fagan hurriedly steps forward with the perfect compromise. Clutterbuck has won the five furlongs race, and the other five have run the three miles open!

Although the unpleasantness does not immediately die down, a fortunate diversion occurs in the shape of the arrival of Mrs Beste-Chetwynde in an enormous limousine. 'The door opened, and from the cushions within emerged a tall young man in a clinging dove grey overcoat. After him, like the first breath of spring in the Champs-Elysees, came Mrs Beste-Chetwynde - two lizard-skin feet, silk legs, chinchilla body, a tight little black hat, pinned with platinum and diamonds, and the high invariable voice that may be heard in any Ritz Hotel from New York to Budapest.'

'I hope you don't mind me bringing Chokey,' she says, 'he's just crazy about sport.' For once in his life Fagan is bereft of words, for Chokey, graceful and impeccably dressed, is a Negro.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapters VIII and IX - The Sports (Conclusion)

The party adjourns to the refreshment tent, where Prendergast, wig askew, is sampling the delights of the champagne cup. Paul is pressed into service handing round foie gras sandwiches, while Philbrick, apparently regarding himself one of the guests, discusses greyhound racing with one of the Clutterbucks. The spectre of the three miles race hangs over the marquee as two distinct camps emerge, the Circumferences and their assorted toadies, and the Clutterbucks and others snubbed by Lady C. that afternoon.

In this heated atmosphere, Mrs Beste-Chetwynde comes forward to maintain the social balance. She and Chokey make small talk with the other guests, or rather she does, and Chokey, who appears to be a jazz musician, assents with his usual 'I sure am that.' The parties unite in well-bred disdain and share colorful information regarding 'coloured folk', and Lord C. is approached by the bandmaster on behalf of his sister-in-law, willing to discuss terms.

Chokey, who is actually Mr Sebastian Cholmondley, discourses upon all the cultural sights he has taken in during his visit to England, and proceeds onto a spirited defense of the inherent artistic taste of those of his race. He is dissuaded by Mrs Beste-Chetwynde from singing the assembled company a song. The others continue their vivid tales, and Mrs Beste-Chetwynde confesses to Lady C. that she is a tiny bit bored with 'coloured people,' as they will be so earnest.

Fagan demands that the band stop playing "Men of Harlech," as they have been for over half an hour. The bandmaster (last seen procuring for his sister-in-law) announces that the band knows only holy tunes in addition to "Men of Harlech", which would be blasphemous to play while there is a woman smoking (Mrs Beste-Chetwynde). An additional pound is required to defray the cost of the blasphemy, and the band breaks into another tune.

As much as I love Waugh I must concede that much of his humour lies in a very real racist and class-conscious attitude that my English relatives still adhere to.... my mother tried to pass that poison on to me, but it wouldn't take, i.e. telling me that my long neck distinguished me from the Polacks... anyway, I have seen fear in that handful of dust... I'm nuts, don't bother with me... Ecclesiastes.

I've enjoyed reading "Decline and Fall". I had a bad taste in my mouth from "Brideshead Revisited," however I decided to give Waugh another go after reading the posts in this thread. I'm glad I did. I guess I'll look at the war trilogy next.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter X - Post Mortem

Fagan, the Misses Fagan, Grimes, and Paul walk up to the castle together at day's end; Fagan bemoaning all the mishaps that occurred despite careful preparation. (!) They discuss all that took place, fromthe disagreement between Prendergast and Chokey over rood-screens, to Lady C.'s 'brutal' reference to the five furlongs race in her speech. Flossie recounts how Chokey had asked her to Reigate for the weekend, an invitation she reluctantly declined. Itis decided *not* to set off the fireworks as a finale to the day, as originally planned.

In the Common Room, Grimes and Paul conduct their own PM as Prendergast comes in, still incensed over rood-screens, and still feeling the effects of his jollification. The bell for Prep rings, and Grimes reminds Prendy that he's on duty. Prendergast saunters off and Paul and Grimes head for the pub, Paul remarking that Mrs Beste-Chetwynde has asked him to look her up when he's next in London.

Paul seems quite taken with Mrs Beste-Chetwynde, asking Grimes a series of questions about her. Grimes diagnoses the beginnings of the tender passion, while Paul bemusedly wonders if he could be right.

Back at the castle, they find Predergast in a fine mood, relaxed and smiling. 'I have just caned twenty-three boys', he proudly announces.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter XI - Philbrick - continued

The next day while discussing Prendy's hangover, our trio get to talking about Philbrick. Philbrick, says Prendergast, 'is really a rich man and not a butler at all.' Paul and Grimes reply thatthey both knew that. Philbrick, Prendergast continues, is really Sir Solomon Philbrick, the ship owner. Prendergast spins out an elaborate story containing Portuguese Counts, family heirlooms, the Archbishop of Canerbury, a mistress who was a famous actress, and a fatal duel in Hyde Park.

No, says Grimes, Philbrick is the son of a diamond magnate turned admirer of literature. Philbrick attended Cambridge and settled down to the life of a writer, gladdening his old father's heart with his prolific output. Grimes' story involves a bitter sister, a haunting, the Society for Physical Research, and a female poet from Chelsea that Philbrick happens to be engaged to marry.

Paul then relates the story of Philbrick, ace of burglars, and his forthcoming marriage to Dingy. 'D'you think that story is true, or yours, or Prendy's?' he asks. 'No.' says Mr Prendergast.

To my regret, I've been laid off of my beloved job, and will be around the fray even less often than I have been recently. But I wanted to make a comment about the context of D & F, related to things allofuss has (have) said, and Maria too. I've beenreading the Waugh/Mitford correspondence. It starts at the end of the second world war and continue till Waugh's death. If you read it continuously, as I have done, you begin to realize that no one who has written about Waugh, the man, has gotten him right. (Not that I could do it.) His personal style combines endless facetiousness, a kind of terrible, bottomless irony, with a bullying manner. I'd like to say it was all in quotes, and that he never means it, but it's not that simple. I'll give just one example. In letter after letter, Waugh and Mitford mock Cyril Connolly mercilessly. It is not until Connolly finally takes offense at something Nancy writes that she takes off the mask an confesses, somewhat desperately, that she loves him. They are eventually reconciled. With Waugh the case is less clear. Connolly's reviews of the Officers and Gentlemen trilogy, at a time when he was a powerful critic, are so obtuse that you have to think they are driven in part by malice, and perhaps by jealousy. By the time Waugh has published four or so books in the course of this correspondence, you realize that in direct proportion to his fame erroneous perceptions about Waugh grew up that were essentially ineradicable. They cannot be erased even now. I am three-fourths of the way through, and more than ever before I have come to see him as a beleaguered man who tried by every possible means to protect himself, but who was misunderstood by almost everyone. He must have been an unpleasant drunk, and social occasions, especially those involving strangers, went off the tracks. But the letters show two people who are constantly joking and who, amazingly, nearly always get each other's jokes.

Finally, something happens in the Sports chapters. I had the feeling that Waugh was just biding his time for a stretch, embroidering here & there, revealing character in one big glop instead of spreading it amongst more plot.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter XII - The Agony of Captain Grimes

Several days later Paul and Beste-Chetwynde are in the midst of their regular music lesson. Beste-Chetwynde remarks that Tangent's foot has swollen and turned black, and Paul commiserates in an absent-minded way. Beste-Chetwynde announces that he's received a letter from his mother with a message for Paul, and remarks that she and Chokey do not seem to be getting along. 'I think it's time she dropped that man, don't you?' he asks Paul.

The message involves a suggestion that Paul tutor young Beste-Chetwynde during the holidays. Paul is rather pleased with the idea, and Beste-Chetwynde allows that it *might* do, only there must be precious little of the schoolmaster-pupil relationship, as he still remembers the beating Prendergast administered the evening he was tight. 'And there will be no organ lessons, either,' says Paul.

Grimes is not as enthused over this news as Paul had hoped, in fact he is quite abstracted. 'I'm in the soup again,' he tells Paul, 'up to the neck.' So he's done the only thing he could think of, announce his engagement to Flossie, who's as pleased as punch, 'damn her nasty little eyes,' he says. Grimes hopes for the best, though there is one tinycomplication: he's married already.

Later that evening, Paul obeys a summons from Fagan, and finds him looking suddenly aged, the result of two shocks he sustained that morning, he tells Paul. The first involves uncontestable evidence convicting Grimes of an unnamed crime. This however, Fagan sees as minor, accepting them as a given in their profession. The second shock was much more severe, Grimes' engagement to Flossie. 'He is *not* the son-in-law I should readily have chosen. I could have forgiven him his wooden leg, his slavish poverty, his moral turpitude, and his abominable features; I could even have forgiven him his incredible vocabulary; if only he had been a *gentleman*.'

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter XII - The Agony of Captain Grimes (Continued)

Having made a mesalliance of his own, Fagan has deep feelings on this subject, but would not be so concerned had Flossie demonstrated the slightest partiality for Grimes. Butit seems that Flossie's main goal is to marry someone, anyone, rather quickly. Suddenly Fagan cuts to the chase; his purpose, he tells Paul, is to offer a deal: a junior partnership for Paul at Llanabba in exchange for his marriage to Flossie. Paul immediately declines, and Fagan seems resigned to Grimes. 'I don't think it would be any use approaching Mr Prendergast,' he sighs.

The wedding might as well take place in a week, announces Fagan, and asks Paul to convey the knowledge to Grimes. There will be no party, says Fagan, as the Sports were not at all encouraging. 'Poor little Lord Tangent is still laid up, I hear,' he remarks casually.

Paul returns to Grimes in the Common Room and tells him of his talk with Fagan. Grimes is visibly upset, he'd hoped that the plans might still have fallen through. To cheer him up, Paul asks what he would like for a wedding present, and Grimes lights up. 'What about that binge you promised me and Prendy?' he asks, and Paul agrees.

The next day the trio alights at the Hotel Metropole, 'the grandest hotel in the north of Wales', though now sadly showing wear and tear. They run into Philbrick at the hotel's Palm Court, who points out the apparent deficiencies and apologizes for not being able to invite them to dine with him. Confronted by Grimes about the different tales he's spun to each of them, Philbrick replies with offended dignity that his full story, which they shall all know in time, is much stranger than fiction. He is then bowed out with much ceremony by the manager and head-waiter, impressing the others.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter XII - The Agony of Captain Grimes (Conclusion)

They sit down to dinner, and the other diners look at them askance. A Jeroboam of Champagne is delivered to their table, compliments of Sir Solomon Philbrick in congratulations of Captain Grimes' approaching marriage. The waiter confirms that Philbrick, a frequent guest, always has the best of everything, which does not conform to their own experience, as the food is abominable, but the company is pleasant.

Grimes confesses his trepidations regarding the upcoming occasion. His first marriage, in Ireland, didn't make much impression on him, and he has no idea what became of Mrs Grimes. Flossie, however, seems a very different kettle of fish, though he sees no other way out of his predicament. This last landing in the soup has really stretched the limits, he says, and he'd have found it hard to get another job. Now, however, he's set for life, no more worries, but 'Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! That I should come to this!' he cries out.

Grimes knows that his nemesis, retribution, has finally caught up with him. 'Those that live by the flesh shall perish by the flesh,' he exclaims. Why was he not warned? It's not the fires of hell he fears, but 'the hideous lights of home and the voices of children.' Grimes continues to twist in his existential nightmare, growing ever more bitter of heart. 'There's no escape,' he moans.

Paul and Prendy discuss the mysteries of marriage, Prendy saying that like any other subject he's ever thought about, he cannot help but be confronted by a flat contradiction, making it impossible to understand. Suddenly Grimes cheers up. He'll get a motor bicycle, he announces, and begins to juggle the champagne bottle, ice, and two knives.'The black cloud has passed,' he says, 'Grimes is now going to enjoy his evening.'

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter XIII - The Passing of a Public School Man

Six days later, the Fagan-Grimes nuptials are celebrated, a 'slight injury to the hand' unfortunately (!) preventing Paul from displaying his virtuosity on the organ. Prendy gives away the bride, as Fagan refused to be present, and Paul is best man. The rest of the school is present, however, except for little Lord Tangent, who is having his foot amputated. Clutterbuck is seen to sulk quite visibly. The vicar gives a moving sermon on Home and Conjugal Love, and the wedding party returns to the Castle.

The honeymoon has been delayed 'til the end of term, ten days hence, and the happy couple begins married life at the Castle, Fagan setting the ground rules, and permitting Grimes to dine with them from now on, instead of with the boys. After dinner Paul encounters Grimes in the Common Room, looking a little uncomfortable. After some pro forma debate, they take the familiar road to the pub, running into the stationmaster, who bemoans the fact that Grimes would never meet with his sister-in-law. Soon enough Paul and Grimes commence their trek back to the Castle, where a light is burning in the West Tower, Grimes' and Flossie's new home. Grimes reluctantly wends his way there, and Paul goes up to bed.

During the next few days Paul finds that the baize door that separates Fagan's wing from the rest of the school has also separated him from Grimes. In the Common Room even Prendy admits to missing Grimes, whom they both see as not his usual chipper self. As it turns out, Grimes himself then diffidently comes in, and they welcome him enthusiastically. Grimes tells them that he's having a rough time of it, not because of Flossie, but because of Fagan, who condescends to him and is quite nasty.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter XIII - The Passing of a Public School Man (Continued)

Fagan has eroded Grimes' confidence in himself, and Grimes now sees himself through Fagan's eyes as not being 'out of the top drawer', and it bothers him and makes him despise himself as he supposes everyone else does. It's no comfort that Fagan is quite as sadistic to his own daughters, and Grimes fears that he'll lose his mind entirely before the end of term. Paul comforts him by reminding him that there's only a week left.

The next morning Grimes hands Paul a letter he's just received from Clutterbuck & Sons, offering him a post at the family brewery for his kindness to 'Percy'. 'Irony,' he remarks to Paul. (The real irony being that he is rewarded forhis 'kindness, of course.) Grimes bemoans the fact that it's too late for him. During 'break', however, he tells Paul that he's determined to take the job without a word to the Fagans; he'll just decamp. Paul encourages him, but a little while later, a dejected Grimes tells him he's decided that the letter must be a joke, and disappears beyond the baize door.

The next day there is excitement at Llanabba. Two detectives produce a warrant for Philbrick's arrest, but it is discovered that Philbrick has fled. He's wanted for 'false pretenses and impersonation', they explain, though they expect him to get off on an insanity plea. It seems Philbrick poses as Sir Solomon Philbrick, staying mostly at hotels and living it up, then leaving after cashing a large cheque. The detectives don't doubt that he believes his own tale. 'Lucky devil!' exclaims Grimes despondently.

That evening Prendy confesses his fears about Grimes to Paul, saying he's never seen such a change in anyone. Grimes seems to be obsessed with the idea of Divine Retribution, and even the boys have noticed him acting strangely. Prendy remarks that Grimes will be relieved when the holidays come.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Chapter XIII - The Passing of a Public School Man (Conclusion)

Grimes' holiday comes quite unexpectedly, however, in an unforeseen way. Three days later he does not appear at morning prayers, and a distressed Flossie admits that he has been missing since the evening before. The stationmaster acknowledges seeing him the village in an extreme case of depression, and just before luncheon a youth presents himself at Llanabba with a small pile of clothes he'd found on the shore. Theclothes are established as belonging to Grimes, and a note is found with the following inscription: 'Those that live by the flesh shall perish by the flesh.'

This news is kept from the boys as best they can, and Flossie, though shocked, is adamant about not wearing mourning, as she is sure her husband would not have expected it. The boys pack up their boxes and the Easter holidays begin.

End of Part One

allofuss

I happened to be talking to a very gifted poet last night who, in her fifties, became profoundly depressed and now is on a 200mg maintenance dose of Zoloft. I asked her if she thought it had any kind of negative impact on her creative work. She said no, emphatically not. So perhaps the answer to your question about what the effects of these drugs might have been on Waugh is "More masterpieces."

I've finished the sad job of reading the Waugh Mitford correspondence straight through. I remain unswerving in my high opinion of the trilogy, and in general of Waugh's growth and deepening as an artist. Late in the exchange he refers (pace PseudoErasmus) to his "adolescent" enthusiasm for Firbank. I love D. & F. as much as anyone does, but I am glad Waugh lived long enough to produce the late works he wrote, from HELENA on. (HELENA, his historical novel, is very good. I just read it.) However, perhaps if he had not been so blackly depressed, Waugh might have functioned better at the end of his life, lived longer and more happily, and written more. If Zoloft or its descendants can help similarly unhappy people today, then maybe it's a good thing. It certainly is the difference between life and death for my poet friend.

Part I of D & F sets the stage for all that is to follow. In my opinion, Llanabba was a sort of apprenticeship for Paul, to prepare him for the next part of his life, an overture to the main events. Echoes of what is to come are scattered throughout, as are the lessons Paul will need to learn to survive in the 'real world'. But has he learned them? Part II commences.

Part I of D & F sets the stage for all that is to follow. In my opinion, Llanabba was a sort of apprenticeship for Paul, to prepare him for the next part of his life, an overture to the main events. Echoes of what is to come are scattered throughout, as are the lessons Paul will need to learn to survive in the 'real world'. But has he learned them? Part II commences.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter I - King's Thursday

Margot Beste-Chetwynde's country house, King's Thursday, previously the seat of the Earls of Pastmaster since the reign of Bloody Mary, is a modern monstrosity that has taken the place of a virtually untouched Tudor house. The county of Hampshire had been proud of this 'unspoilt' gem of domestic Tudor architecture, but the growing servant problem made it impossible for the present Lord Pastmore to keep on living there, so he decided to sell,having a yen for the Riviera, and not seeing what 'all the fuss was about.' An effort was made to spare it for the nation, but only a very small amount was collected, so the neighbours were at first delighted to learn that the rich Mrs Beste-Chetwynde (the present Earl's sister-in-law) had purchased King's Thursday.

Much to the chagrin of the neighbourhood, however, Margot set upon the process of demolition directly after purchasing King's Thursday, and an architect was soon upon the scene. 'Something clean and square,' she'd demanded of the young architect, Otto Friedrich Silenus, a staunch believer in the superiority of machines over mankind. 'The only perfect building must be the factory,' he'd told a journalist, 'because that is built to house machinery, not men.' Musing upon the site he muses, '...man equally alien from the *being* of nature and the *doing* of the machine, the vile *becoming!'

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter II - Interlude in Belgravia

Paul meets his friend Arthur Potts for dinner upon his arrival in London after leaving Llanabba. Potts knows all about King's Thursday and Silenus, whom Potts commends for his departure from the stifling traditionalism of Corbusier.

For a moment, in these familiar surroundings, Paul steps back and becomes the young man he was before his fall, and not the placid shadow he'd turned into. Potts tells him about his new job with the League of Nations, and we see what Paul *might* have been, this seems to be Potts' role in D & F.

The next morning, however, Paul falls back, leaving his newly discovered persona behind, and prepares to meet Beste-Chetwynde for the trip to King's Thursday. 'From the point of view of this story Paul's second disappearance is necessary, because, as the reader will probably have discerned already, Paul Pennyfeather would never have made a hero, and the only interest about him arises from the unusual series of events of which his shadow was witness.'

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter III - Pervigilium Veneris

Paul and Beste-Chetwynde arrive at King's Thursday, where the lodges and gates had not been touched. They turn into the avenue, a traditional alley of trees, where flashes of parkland and even a distant lake are seen. 'English spring,' muses Paul, '...the harmonious interdependence of rich and poor, of dignity, innocence, and tradition'. Then the house comes into view. 'Golly!' says Beste-Chetwynde, 'Mamma has done herself proud thistime.'

They are conducted across a floor of bottle-green glass into the dining room, where Margot is already seated at a vulcanite table beginning her luncheon. (Thus Waugh begins to convey the modern horrors in store at the new King's Thursday.) Paul is newly enraptured with her. After some time he notices the presence of Silenus, and we learn that the house has not been a hit with the county. Silenus professes to hate the house (no doubt feeling that he has prostituted his talent by creatinga domicile for loathsome humans). 'Nothing I have ever done has caused me so much disgust', he says. After making Paul a cocktail, Beste-Chetwynde (whose given name is Peter, we discover) is asked by Margot to show Paul the rest of the house. 'That's an odd thing to ask me in a totally strange house,' he avers.

'Don't you think she's the most wonderful woman in the world?' Paul later asks Silenus on the terrace. (We learn that the terrace contains enormous black glass pillars, mosaics, and an aluminium balustrade - more horrors.) Silenus candidly reflects that she is much the same as other women, with slight, but annoyingly obtrusive, variations. He confides that she has asked him to marry him twice, but that she will no doubt be worn out inten years' time, and not worth the inconvenience.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter III - Pervigilium Veneris (Continued)

Silenus retires for the night, remarking that as he hasn't slept in over a year, he needs his rest. Margot is already in the arms of Morpheus (sped there by a dose of veronal). That night, in bed, Paul reads THE GOLDEN BOUGH and turns over in his mind the events of the day, and those he has just recently left behind. Downstairs Peter is sipping another brandy and soda and leafing through his favorite book by the notorious Havelock Ellis. (Another sign of degeneracy, tippling and Ellis.)

The next day the week-end party arrives and Silenus directs the workmen on the mosaics. We meet the Hon. Miles Malpractice, the photographer David Lennox, (a couple), Pamela Popham(a Lady Circumference type), and a drunken Lord Parakeet, who'd come from Alastair Trumpington's twenty-first birthday party (Paul's nemesis). Margot remains incommunicada.

Paul converses with one of the guests, Sir Humphrey Maltravers, the Minister of Transportation (and potential step-father to Peter). Paul finds a great resemblance to the caricatures he'd seen in the dailies. They discuss Margot, and Maltravers announces that what she needs is a husband to 'stabilize her position, someone with a position in public life.' (Who could *that* be?) Maltravers, like everyone else Paul encounters, begins to tell him about his life, unasked. He tells a tale of hard-scrabble beginnings, 'a father who drank and a mother who had fits, a sister who went on the streets, of a brother who went to prison, of another brother who was born a deaf mute.' His own career has consisted of 'scholarships and polytechnics, of rebuffs and encouragements, of a University career of brilliant success and unexampled privations.'

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter III - Pervigilium Veneris (Continued)

Maltravers reveals that he too went to Scone, as did a number of other high officers of state, though none with such barriers to overcome. His words flow easily, because asa matter of fact, he'd just dictated a series of articles about his life, and he speaks of his political career. Though he supposes he could lead the party if he keeps on, he feels that the time has come to slow down, accept a peerage, keep a racehorse or two, and have a villa and a yacht at Monte Carlo. It's only his due, he feels, but he labors under the disadvantage of having been born poor.

On Sunday evening the house party plays billiards after declining to play cards (for moral reasons, of course). Sir Humphrey wins, having allegedly cheated. On Monday he departs without having seen Margot all weekend, and annoyed by Peter's frank account of what was wrong with her (indulging in veronal). Silenus commends him for not having said anythingpolite about the house, and Peter and Paul go back to their studies.

As the last of the guests depart, a revitalized Margot reappears. She confides to Paul that 'more and more I feel the need of a husband, but Peter is horribly fastidious.' Sir Humphrey is plainly ineligible because Margot Maltravers would be too outré, and if offered a peerage, he'd be bound to choose something even more awful.

During the course of the next few days, Paul falls ever more under Margot's spell. One day, hand in hand with Paul by the lake, she begs him not to return to Llanabba, telling him that she could find him a job. She tells him that she manages her some of her father's businesses, mainly in 'places of entertainment in South America. Paul asks shouldn't he know Spanish, and Margot turns the question aside with a laugh and tells him that he's being difficult.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter III - Pervigilium Veneris (Continued)

Later, at dinner, Margot tells Paul about the travails of the rich; work going on at the London house, requiring a new caretaker for the villa at Cannes, a demand from the Society for the Preservation of Ancient Buildings that she not demolish her castle in Ireland, Bobby Pastmaster trying to touch her for a loan. Though being rich *is* a bore and endless toil, she says, she wouldn't be poor or even moderately well-off for all the leisure in the world. Would Paul be happy if he were rich, she inquires?

Paul at first replies that it would depend on how he got the money, but then makes a convoluted statement equating obtaining his heart's desire with being rich, sayingthat if had that, he wouldn't need money. Margot takes his meaning and encourages him to continue, and Paul gets on his knees and asks her to marry him. She replies that she's been wanting to discuss that with him all day, and that she doesn't see whynot, although they do have to ask Peter and also discuss a few things. 'Paul,' she says suddenly, 'dear, dear creature, come here.'

They find Peter, and Margot breaks the news. Peter responds with jubilation, telling them he's been trying to arrange it all week. Paul begs Margot to marry him at once, but she demurs, saying that she'll tell him in the morning, as there are several things to think through. 'Let's go back to the library', she says.

That night, Paul finds it very difficult to sleep, his thoughts racing uncontrollably. Just as he begins to drop off, the door opens gently, and Margot comes in. To the he sound of silk falling to the ground, Margot asks, 'it's best to make sure, isn't it darling, before we decide anything?' She wants to make sure that Paul is in love with her, she says, because she likes him so very much. There is apparently no mistake, and the next day Paul and Margot announce their engagement.

Here is the last paragraph of George Will's May 8 column:

Listening to Republicans these days, one understands the misanthropic Evelyn Waugh writing late in life, "I am quite deaf now; such a comfort."

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter IV - Resurrection

A few days after the engagement, Paul runs into a well-known figure at King's Thursday: Captain Grimes! 'Not a word, old boy!' he tells Paul, as he stumps towards Margot's study. Paul is verysurprised, but not Peter, who never believed Grimes was dead. After a while, they ambush the newly bearded Grimes and demand an explanation. It seems that he is now wanted by the police, the suicide theory not holding water and his first wife turning up, providing a motive for disappearing. So he'd touched Philbrick for a fiver and gone to London, where he was down to his last few bob before fortune smiled upon him once more.

He'd noticed someone looking at him in a pub who came up and asked 'Captain Grimes, I think?' He'd instantly demurred, saying that Grimes was dead, and the chap told him that it was too bad, that he'd had a job to offer Grimes. At this point Grimes recognized him as a fellow who'd been in Ireland with him, and revealed himself. Bill then revealed the reason he'd thought of Grimes: he'd been the manager of, Ahem, 'a place of entertainment, a sort of night club, you know', in Argentina, and now had been placed in charge of a chain of these places, and needed to recruit some 'dispassionate' chaps who could control themselves around women. These places of 'entertainment' are owned by a syndicate in England, Grimes continues, founded by young Beste-Chetwynde's grandfather, and Margot still takes an interest in it, so he'd been sent down to be vetted by her. Margot has kindly advanced Grimes 50 pounds.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter IV - Resurrection (Conclusion)

Grimes asks Paul if he'd heard from Fagan, and he is shown the letter Paul has just received. In it Fagan tells Paul that a certain Mrs Grimes had descended upon the Castle, that the police are still asking questions about Grimes, that Prendy has found himself a new position as a Modern Churchman (no faith required), so Fagan is in a fix regarding masters, and misses Paul terribly. Fortunately, though, he's had an offer for the Castle from a certain Sir Solomon Philbrick, the managing director of a cinema company, and Diana (Dingy) is now quite anxious to start a nursing home or an hotel.

Grimes departs, and Potts pops up. Paul shows him around King's Thursday, and Potts casually asks the identity of the man he'd seen leaving. Paul tells him that he thinks it was a functionary from the Society for the Preservation of Ancient Buildings, and Potts is dismayed because it seems he's been following a false scent once again. Divorce proceedings? Paul asks, and Potts replies that it's League of Nations work, and abruptly changes the subject. He is invited to dinner by Margot, and inadvertently hastens Silenus' departure, who decamps the next day and leaves most of his luggage behind. Long afterwards, Margot runs into the head gardener's son wearing one of Silenus' batik ties to church, but by that time, we find out, King's Thursday had once again been rebuilt. Paul and Margot now go up to London for their wedding.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter V - The Latin-American Entertainment Co., Ltd.

At the end of April Peter returns to Llanabba, the sale of the Castle having fallen through, and Paul and Margot continue with the arrangements for the wedding, which Margot has decided to effect a society church wedding with all the trimmings, including bridesmaids. Before the wedding, however, she has some South American business to transact.

The business seems to consist of hiring young women for jobs in cabarets and as dancing partners, and Paul is present one morning to see Margot in action. Margot shows her mettle as she professionally weeds the unfit from the ones she hires. Then a woman named Jane Grimes (!) enters, saying she has a letter of recommendation from a 'gentleman at Cardiff.' (!) Jane admits to thinking that her husband, who'd treated her caddishly, is now dead, or so she's been told, and Margot hires her on the spot, and makes all the monetary and travel arrangements with her.

By luncheon Margot is finished, and Paul states his admiration of her methods. Then she notices a young man who reminds her of Potts standing on the opposite kerb, talking to one of the rejected applicants. Paul says that it can't possibly be Potts, andasks her why she'd offered more money to those applicants with the least experience. Margot tells him that it must be the absurd happiness she feels, and Paul takes this at face value, though he later reflects that Margot had certainly seemed to be all business.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter V - The Latin-American Entertainment Co., Ltd. (Conclusion)

They go out to luncheon and are seated next to Philbrick, who invites Paul to come see him sometime. Paul tells him that the police had called to see him after he'd left Llanabba, and Philbrick phlegmatically responds that they're bound to get him sometime, but thanks Paul for the tip. To return the favor, he tells Paul that the League of Nations Committee is getting ready to come after Margot soon. Paul is confused by this, and returns to his own table, to be reassured by Margot that Philbrick must be 'dotty'.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter VI - A Hitch in the Wedding Preparations

Paul asks Potts to be his best man, but he declines in a letter posted from Geneva. As a replacement, Paul chooses Sir Alastair Digby-Vane-Trumpington, because he was ultimately the source of Paul's present good fortune. Trumpington accepts, borrowing the money for a new top hat from Paul. Paul ignores a letter from his guardian broadly hinting that she had the right to be a bridesmaid.

The public is very taken with the idea of this marriage, and on the eve of the ceremony, a large crowd gathers at St Margaret's as if for the first night of a play. The police are called to subdue the crowd. Society, however, is less enthused. 'It's maddenin' Tangent having died just at this time,' avers Lady Circumference. 'People may think that that's my reason for refusin.' I can't imagine that *anyone* will go.'

There are general lamentations among the fashionable bachelors at having lost out on a prize of this nature, but Margot remains loyal to the troops, and sends their monthly checques as usual. Davy Lennox, the society photographer takes 'photographs of the back of her head and one of the reflection of her hands in a bowl of ink.'

Three days before the wedding, Paul, who has been living at the Ritz in sybaritic pleasure amidst a plethora of gifts from Margot, is asked by her to handle some emergency business for her at Marseilles, where her 'girls' are inexplicably detained with passport problems, she thinks. Her agent has left her in the lurch, and she herself is too busy with last-minute preparations to take charge.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter VI - A Hitch in the Wedding Preparations (Continued)

Paul finds himself travelling in the company of Potts, whom he meets at the Croydon Aerodrome. 'League of Nations business,' he says, and is twice sick onthe flight. He is curious about the visit to Marseilles, with Paul's wedding so imminent, but Paul assures him he's there to attend to some minor business. In Paris Paul charters an aeroplane to Marseille, and that evening takes a trip to the old part of town, looking for the 'girls'. He finds himself in what could be a Hollywood set for the Reign of Terror, a 'place of temptation and danger.' He encounters a series of frightening characters, one taking his hat, and flees for safer pastures.

At daybreak, Paul concludes that it is safe to resume his search, and finds 'les jeunes filles de Madame Beste-Chetwynde'. They explain their muddle as best they can, and Paul spends an anxious morning at consulates and police bureaus, where he is greetedwith either official coldness, or nudge-nudge, wink-wink behaviour. Things had been much easier six months ago, they explain, but now with the League of Nations breathing down their necks... It costs Paul several thousand francs to complete the arrangements, and the 'girls' are classified as stewardesses for purposes of their trip. He encounters Potts along the quay after seeing them off, and Paul refrains from giving Potts his new opinion of the League of Nations, then leaves for Paris and London.

(Continued)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part II - Chapter VI - A Hitch in the Wedding Preparations (Conclusion)

At ten o'clock on the day of his wedding, Paul returns to the Ritz and finds a very rainy morning. Inside he finds Peter, who has been allowed to come up forthe day, and who looks very smart. Paul spruces up, and chats with the tipsy Peter who has consumed the better part of a bottle of champagne. He complains about conditions at Llanabba; Clutterbuck has left, Tangent is dead, and the three new masters are duds. Flossie's been unhappy too, and Peter wonders if a position could be found for her in South America. (!) Trumpington comes in and the three go down to luncheon, where Paul is the cynosure of all eyes. He receives a telephone call for Margot, who wants to be reassured that all is well, and he has a last drink with Trumpington and Peter, toasting 'Fortune, a much maligned lady!'

Suddenly he hears 'Which of you gentlemen is Mr Paul Pennyfeather?' It is Inspector Bruce, from Scotland Yard, and he requests that Paul follow him outside for a moment. Paul thinks he's there about guarding the wedding presents, and attempts to fob him off, only to be told that the Inspector is serving a warrant for his arrest. Paul begs them to explain this toMargot while he attempts to straighten out the 'ghastly mistake', and while Trumpington is taken completely aback, Peter turns deadly white and leaves the restaurant.

End of Part Two

I knew it was too good to last.

there's a part three, resonance.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter I - Stone Walls do not a Prison Make

Paul's trial takes place some weeks later at the Old Bailey, and his subsequent sentencing is a severe letdown for a public tantalized by 'the arrest at the Ritz, the announcement at St Margaret's that the wedding was postponed, Margot's flight to Corfu, the refusal of bail, the meals sent to Paul on covered dishes from Boulestin's,' which had all been front-page news every day. Paul had at first attempted to plead guilty onall charges, but is roused to action by the judge's reminder that these offences merited punishment with the cat-o'-nine tails. Potts turns out to be the main witness for the prosecution, while Paul's only defense is that of unsubstantiated previous good conduct. Although Margot's name is not mentioned during the proceedings, the judge does vent his spleen by lecturing Paul on how callously he schemed to ally his name to one 'honoured in his country's history,' and sought to 'drag down to his own pitiable depths a lady of beauty, rank, and stainless reputation.' Paul is sent off to prison after being compared to a 'human vampire' by the judge, and the matter fades out of public consciousness.

Before all this happened, however, Paul had been visited in his cell by young Peter, who tells him that Margot is most concerned about his comfort. When Paul asks after her, Peter ruefully admits that she has gone to Corfu (the sight of their planned honeymoon), although she had wanted to attend the trial. Margot also wanted Peter to inform Paul that Maltravers, 'that awful old man', has proposed that Margot marry him in exchange for getting Paul out of prison. What does Paul think? Short of going to prison herself, Margot will do anything to help, Peter says. Paul remembers Silenus' prediction that 'in ten years she will be worn out', but loyally says that he prefers her to wait for him. Peter is happy to hear this, and predicts no more than a year behind bars.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter I - Stone Walls do not a Prison Make (Continued)

The sentence of seven years of penal servitude was a blow. 'In ten years she will be worn out,' thinks Paul as he is driven to Blackstone Gaol. (Pronounced jail.)

On his first day in gaol, Paul meets a bewildering array of people, some of which he already knew. He is told by a warder that 'his kind' isn't welcomed there, and calls him a 'dirty White Slaver.' Taken to his cell, Paul next encounters Philbrick, who greets him amiably, and tells him that he's been given a pretty cushy job, him being a familiar figure around the place. Philbrick assures Paul that he's saved the best suit of clothes for him, 'not a louse on it, hardly.' Next, Paul's possessions are inventoried, Paul being banged on the head with his own shoes for having the temerity to address one of the warders. He is next directed to take a bath, and smelling strongly of disinfectant, is sent to the Medical Officer, who warns Paul that any lip will lead to confinement in a strait-jacket. Paul apologizes and is banged on the head for his trouble. Paul is conducted to his cell again, and warned against suicide, which is *not* allowed.

Next he is visited by the Schoolmaster, who asks him his standard when he left his public school. Paul allows that he doesn't think they *had* any standards, and is marked down as 'memory defective'. He is given an English Grammar published in 1872 to get him through the next four weeks, and is nextvisited by the Chaplain, who gives him a Bible and a book of devotion, which can be changed once a week. 'Hullo, Prendy! says Paul to the nervous Chaplain. Prendy is quite taken aback to recognize Paul, although he had feared he'd run into him. It's aproblem of maintaining discipline, he explains, prisoners behaving much like boys determined to cause trouble. He begs Paul to keep his distance, lest Prendergast be reprimanded by the authorities.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter I - Stone Walls do not a Prison Make (Continued)

Paul is next conducted to see the Governor of Blackstone, and is referred to by his number, D.4.12. Sir Lucas-Dockery has very modern ideas regarding penology, and wants prisoners to feel as productive as possible. Attempting to match Paul up with a job along his professional lines, he asks the warder what Paul's occupation is. 'White Slave' trafficker, he is told, and Sir Lucas is saddened to reply that there isn't much opportunity for that at Blackstone. Paul responds that he was nearly a clergyman once, and Sir Lucas tells him of his hopes for a theological class sometime in the future. For the next four weeks Paul must observe a period of solitary confinement, and then he will be found something more creative, so as not to feel that his personality is being stamped out.

Sir Lucas tells him of the part Paul may play in his magnum opus, 'The Lucas-Dockery Experiments', and reflects that the knowledgethat Paul has 'become part of a great revolution in statistics' will make him feel that he is no nameless slave. He is reminded by the warder that there have been two more attempted suicides, and is asked to be more strict with them, the new sharp toolsrecently introduced to the Arts and Crafts School being a source of great temptation.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter I - Stone Walls do not a Prison Make (Conclusion)

Upon his return, Paul examines his cell for the first time, finding it spartan, but somehow comforting. After a time he is given some cocoa and bread, bacon, and beans. Paul falls into a reverie as he is left uninterrupted for the next fourteen hours. 'It was the first time he had been really alone for months. How refreshing it was,' he reflects.

The next four weeks are among the happiest of Paul's life. He has no decisions to make, does not have the slightest consideration of 'time, meals or clothes, ...no anxiety ever about what kind of impression he was making'. He was in fact, free. His only concern was stitching away at a mailbag until it was time for chapel, which was a bore, like the hour spent marching about the prison square, but Paul could put up with this. He kept on schedule with his sewing, and his evenings were spent in meditation and in writing up his thoughts. He was content.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter II - The Lucas Dockery Experiments

'Sir Wilfred Lucas-Dockery, as has already been suggested, combined ambition, scholarship, and genuine optimism in a degree rarely found in his office.' He looked towards a future when the Lucas-Dockery methods would begin a new era in the history of penology, but was often at odds with his Chief Warder.

One day the Chief Warder informs him that a practice of eating the paste issued in the Bookbinding Shop is growing, as the men find it preferable to their porridge. 'Has the paste any nutritive value?' asks Sir Wilfred. Upon the Chief Warder's confession of ignorance on this subject, Sir Wilfred instructs him to have the men weighed against any increases in girth, andbemoans the lack of scientific follow-through.

He is next informed that Paul wishes to extend his period of solitary confinement by another four weeks, and Sir Wilfrid sends for him. Sir Wilfrid wonders if Paul has led a very solitary life or hasnarcissistic tendencies, and pines for the staff psycho-analyst that he has requested. The next day Sir Wilfrid sends for Paul to inform him of his decision, and tells him that he is now a part of Sir Wilfred's forthcoming book on the criminal mind. Healready has the treatment worked up, although he has not yet reported the results. Sir Wilfrid rules against Paul's request, but heartens him with the knowledge that his case will become 'a precedent for generations yet unborn', and Paul returns to his cell.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter II - The Lucas Dockery Experiments (Conclusion)

That afternoon Paul's new regimen begins, and he is directed to exercise with another prisoner, who tells him that he's in for six months, a 'very decent little sentence'. He's known there so he's given the job of landing cleaner when he goes back in, a nice job, but not one to touch Reception-cleaner, the job held by Philbrick. Paul tells the little man that he knows Philbrick, and is corrected by him, saying that this man is the Governor's brother, Sir Solomon Lucas-Dockery, sent inside for arson after burning down a castle in Wales. (!)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter III - The Death of a Modern Churchman

Some days later Paul reports for his exercise and finds he has a new 'pal', a redheaded figure of formidable aspect. He gives Paul a 'slight snarl of welvome', and tells him that he's in for life. It doesn't matter though, he continues, the Second Coming is imminent. Paul asks what his companion is in for, and is told that it's all in the Bible, but that he doesn't suppose Paul has the 'visions' necessary to understand it. Neither does the Chaplain, continues the other prisoner, as he tells Paul of the vision that brought him to Blackstone. An angel of the Lord, clothed in flame, had directed him to 'Kill and spare not', for the Lord had 'numbered His elect and the day of tribulation was at hand.' 'I am the sword of Israel', continues the prisoner, 'I am the lion of the Lord's elect.'

Did he actually kill anyone? Paul wonders. 'I smote the Philistine', he is told,'...I struck off his head.' But not to fear, continues the prisoner, for the Lord shall deliver him soon. The bell sounds, and they are commanded to go back inside. 'Any complaints?' asks the Governor on his rounds, and Paul attempts to report the ramblings of the lunatic he exercised with. His comments are dismissed as being unsubstantiated, and he is told that it is a ridiculous complaint. 'All crime is a form of insanity', says Sir Wilfred, having specially chosen this particular prisoner for his suitability vis-a-vis Paul.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter III - The Death of a Modern Churchman (Continued)

That afternoon Paul is once again joined on his rounds by the homicidal visionary. He tells Paul that he has had another vision, seeing the prison 'all crimson and wet like blood'. He doesn't know the meaning yet, he says, but is convinced that the hand of the Lord hangs over the prison. He asks Paul if he ever feels like the prison is in the throat of some great beast whose breath is like the fiery blast of a furnace. Paul replies in the negative, and asks what the other has been reading. 'Lady Almina's Secret,' he's told, but the prisoner prefers the Bible, as 'there's a lot of killing in that', and that is his mission.

One morning Sir Lucas is sitting in judgement of cases of misconduct among the prisoner, and notes that the next man is Paul's companion in the special regimen. The warder testifies that he came upon the man last evening and found him in a state of high agitation, pacing up and down in his cell, one hand holding his Bible, the other a piece of wood he'd broken from his stool, all the time muttering Bible verses. He'd called the warder 'a Moabite, an abomination of Moab, a wash-pot, and unclean thing, an uncircumcised Moabite, an idolater, and a whore of Babylon'.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter III - The Death of a Modern Churchman (Continued)

The warder feels this is a clear-cut case of insubordination, and recommends that the prisoner be put on the No. 1 diet. But Sir Wilfred is of a different opinion. He feels that the piece of wood is the most significant part of the evidence, and upon learning that the prisoner's occupation had been carpentry, feels jubilation, for it is his belief that the previous night's scene had been a case of the frustratedcreative urge. He tells the prisoner that it had been very wrong to insult the warder, but sympathizes with the frustration that drove him into such a frenzy. Sir Wilfred tells him that he shall be given a bench and a set of carpentry tools, and that his first job will be to repair his stool. Other fulfilling jobs will follow. 'Get to the cause of the trouble,' Sir Wilfred exults.

Two days later Paul awakens to find the prison in a state of excitement. What could it be? he wonders, but no oneis talking. He overhears two warders passing his cell, one commenting that 'I don't say I'm not sorry for the poor bird. All I says is that it was time the Governor had a lesson.' When breakfast arrives, Paul whispers 'What's happened?' A murder, he is told hurriedly, and he concludes that it must be the Governor who's been killed.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Part III - Chapter III - The Death of a Modern Churchman (Conclusion)

At length the bell rings for chapel, and Paul finds Philbrick next to him. He sees that the Governor is present, Prayer-Book in hand, but that Prendy is nowhere to be found. Where is he? At last a hymn is announced, and he and Philbrick converse while pretending to sing, fitting their words in between the text of the hymn. Paul's companion in exercise had taken his newly acquired carpenter's tools and sawed off Prendy's head. Poor Prendy had screamed for over half an hour, with no interference from the warder, who was just glad that it hadn't been him. 'It serves the Governor right', he'd remarked, and that is the general consensus.

As it turned out, Prendy's death passed almost unnoticed; no Home Office investigation, no discredit to the prison and Sir Wilfred and the Lucas-Dockery experiments. The only difference was a marked increase in the sway of the Chief Warder over Sir Wilfred. After a fewdays Paul is removed to the Convict Settlement at Egdon Heath where he is to serve out his term.

Maria, your excellent summary has spurred me on. I will make a giant effort and try to do some posting on Decline and Fall this weekend before they kill the damn thing.

!!!

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter IV - Nor Iron Bars a Cage

Paul arrives at Egdon Heath late one autumn afternoon. During his railroad journey there had been much discussion of improvements at the prison, two coloured windows for the chapel, alecture on 'The Work of the League of Nations' by Potts. (!) Seeing that Paul seems too shy to join in the general conversation, one of the warders hands Paul a newspaper, remarking that it's likely to be the last he sees for some time.

Paul had grown out of the habit of reading the daily paper while at Blackstone, so there is little to interest him in this one. Finally he spots a picture of Margot and Peter, who has just succeeded to the earldom of Pastmaster, his uncle having died. He learns that they plant to return to England from Corfu, and this leads to a consideration of his relationship with Margot. He's come to realize that his feelings for her are quite complex. On one hand, he is happy to have 'done the right thing' and shielded her from harm, though he was very disappointed that Margot had not rescued him from the mess she'd landed him in due to her criminal behaviour. On the other hand, he vividly remembers Peter's poignant cry of 'You can't see Mamma in prison, can you?' As he studies Margot's photograph, his resolve strengthens, and he perceives that Peter's statement has roots in a natural law. It's only just, he reflects, that there be one law for her and another for him, for as he is well aware, 'anyone who has been to an English public school will always feel comparatively at home in prison.'

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter IV - Nor Iron Bars a Cage (Continued)

At Egdon Heath Paul encounters another old friend, Captain Grimes! During one of the responses in chapel Grimes remarks 'Here we are again, old boy! I'm in the soup as perusual', and promises to tell all later. That morning Paul and other fellow-criminals, including Grimes, are escorted to their work at the quarries. Grimes tells him that he's inside for three years, having been nobbled for bigamy, and that he doesn't know how he'll stick it. He asks after Prendy, only to be told of his murder, and reflects that old Prendy just didn't seem to be cut out for a happy life. As an afterthought he adds that he thinks he'll give up schoolmastering, as there doesn't seem tobe a future in it.

After a week, Paul finds that excluding his work at the quarries, his life has resumed the cadence of his time at Blackstone, though he has by this time, encountered a kind of deus ex machina that appeared to be taking a personal interest in him. His first encounter with it came via the Chaplain, who stopped in to deliver what he said were Paul's library books, that turned out to be two brand new novels. There are plenty more to choose from, he assures Paul, who thinks that Egdon Heath's library seems to be run on a more lavish scale than Blackstone's. The Chaplain tells Paul that he is now permitted to write letters, and requests him to mention the excellence of the library to Margot, should Paul writer to her. Paul is bewildered by this.

That evening at supper, Paul notices that there are pieces of what appears to be coal in his dripping, but upon closer inspection turn out to be mounds of pate de foie gras. From that day forward, it was a rare occurrence that Pauldid not encounter some mysterious tidbit in his cell; winter roses, sherry, caviare, there was always something.

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter IV - Nor Iron Bars a Cage (Conclusion)

One day a letter arrives from Margot, requesting to see him, and asking after his comfort. She also mentions that Maltravers fears that she will be socially ostracized, and that Trumpington seems to be ready to fall in love with her.

At length, Margot herself comes to visit, accompanied by a warder. It was the first time they'd met since she'd sent Paul off to Marseilles. Paul finds that he has nothing much to say, and Margot complains of society's view of her as a not-quite-respectable woman. How's business? Paul asks her, and Margot, at first offended by what she takes to be nastiness, admits she is selling out. Remarking that things had not turned out as expected, Margot announces that she has just this minute decided to marry Maltravers, a sort of inevitable event, she explains, and departs. Paul returns to his cell and another gourmet dinner, but has very little appetite, 'for he was greatly pained at howlittle he was pained by the events of the afternoon.'

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter V - The Passing of a Public School Man

Some days later, Paul finds himself next to Grimes in the quarry, who tells him 'Old boy, I can't stand this much longer. It just ain't good enough.' He's turning into a machine, he says, languishing 'in captivity like the lark.' He can't stand repression, Grimes continues, it'll break him just as it did in Llanabba. Paul remarks that no one has every escaped from Egdon Heath, and Grimes tells him to wait for the next fog.

The next day, there *is* a fog, an impenetrable mist. The warder in charge commands them to stop work and lock up, and Grimes trips over the field-telephone. The other warder enjoins him to hold his horse, and Grimes is seen to have some difficulty controlling it. Suddenly he leaps upon the horse's back, wooden leg and all, and gallops towards the heath. 'Come back, or I'll fire', shouts the warder, and fires into the fog. 'He hasn't a hope,' he says.

That evening the horse came back alone, and patrols with bloodhounds set out to find Grimes. A general emergency is declared, nearby farms and villages alerted, and al autos stopped and searched. All to no avail, days passed and still no Grimes. A week later the Chaplain announces Grimes' death, and the Governor alerts the Home Secretary, Sir Humphrey Maltravers, of the death. They never found the body, the Chaplain tells Paul, just his hat floating on Egdon Mire, where the scent had ended for the bloodhounds. 'Poor old Grimes! says Paul. 'And he was an old Harrovian, too.'

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter V - The Passing of a Public School Man (Conclusion)

Thinking about it later, though, Paul realizes that Grimes cannot be dead. Tangent was dead, Prendy was dead, even Paul himself would die one day; but not Grimes, he was one of the immortals. 'Sentenced to death in Flanders, he popped up in Wales; drowned in Wales, he emerged in South America; engulfed in the dark mystery of Egdon Mire, he would rise again somewhere at some time, shaking from his limbs the misty integuments of the tomb.' Grimes was as old as the world, Paul reflects, playing his role throughout the history of mankind.

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter VI - The Passing of Paul Pennyfeather

Some days later Paul is directed to present himself at the Governor's office, where he is told that there is an order from the Home Secretary granting Paul permission togo into a private nursing-home (hospital) to have his appendix attended to. Paul protests that his appendix has already been removed, but the Governor waves this aside saying that he has an order directing Paul that it be removed, and it shall be.

Half an hour later Paul emerges in the clothes he'd taken to Blackstone (leaving the jewellry behind), and is allowed a shave. He encounters his escort, a warder in plain-clothes, who treats him with marked deference. There's some mistake, says Paul, for he's already had his appendix removed. The warder winks at Paul and entreats him to lower his voice, for 'the driver's not in on this.' Paul finds that a first-class carriage awaited them at Egdon Station. 'Well, that's the last you'll see of the old place for some time. Solemn thought, death, ain't it?' remarks the warder with another wink.

After luncheon in their carriage, the warder hands Paul a will to sign, so that in the event of his death, Margot would inherit all his possessions. 'I'm sure this is all very irregular,' says Paul as he signs, 'I wish you'd tell me what this all means.' The warder declares ignorance of the plans, saying that he had merely followed the instructions of the young gentleman that had set everything up. Where are they going? demands Paul, and is handed a card by the warder.

'Cliff Place, Worthing,' reads Paul. 'High-class Nursing and Private Sanatorium. Electric thermal treatment under medical supervision. Augustus Fagan, M.D., Proprietor.' When they arrived in Worthing a car was waiting to take them to Cliff Place. 'This ends my responsibility,' says the warder. 'From now on the doctor's in charge.'

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter VI - The Passing of Paul Pennyfeather (Conclusion)

As with all of Dr Fagan's enterprises, Cliff Place had a lot of tone on the surface. A large house, long drive, but showing signs of neglect up close; leaves littered the veranda, two windows were broken. The party is met at the door by Dingy, dressed in a nurse's uniform, announcing that all the servants have gone (for a change!) Showing no signs of recognizing Paul, she leads him up the stairs to a specially barred room. At length the door opens, and Dr Fagan, Sir Alastair Digby-Vane-Trumpington, and a small inebriated man step into Paul's room.

He turns out to be a surgeon, and Fagan tells him of the papers he is to sign and forward to the Home Secretary, specifying that Paul had died under the anaesthetic without ever recovering consciousness, and a certificate of death. Sir Alastair pays him off, and recommends he hoist a few before the pubs close.

There is silence in the room for almost a full minute, as the parties present ruminate over the solemn occasion of death. The spell is broken by Flossie, attired in magenta and green. Greeting Paul she exclaims that this is quite a little party, and immediately lightens the mood, as they all troop down to supper.

Fagan makes a little speech at supper, marking Paul's death and resurrection into a new life, and for him as well, he announces, as the nursing-home has not been a success. This evening's work has made it possible for Fagan to retire, he remarks, as he offers a toast 'to Fortune, a much maligned lady. This time no calamity attends Paul, and he and Sir Alastair take their leave, and walk to the beach, where Margot's yacht awaits, ready to speed Paul to Corfu, without Margot, however, who is awaiting the news at King's Thursday.

Maria:

I realize you have not quite finished posting your summaries, but I wanted to take this chance to tell you what an outstanding job you've done with this thread. You have made the book come alive, and have introduced Waugh to many new readers. Thank you for all the time and effort you have poured into this undertaking. It has been well worth it!

Amen, amen. I say to you, Maria Gleason, your excellent work presenting Waugh has been a gift to the Fray, and an ornament to SLATE magazine.

The Readings thread offers something that I think is unique on the web. I don't know of anything like it. Your place in the pantheon of Fray heroes is secured.

Thank you.

Tmachine, Irv, Ned, and Coralreef (!!! to you), thank you for your extremely kind sentiments. This has been a real treat for me, running as I do the beta version of MS Pedantic 97. Next up for discussion: THE ORIGIN OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN THE BREAKDOWN OF THE BICAMERAL MIND, by Julian Jaynes. Hahahahahahahahahahaha!

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter VII - Resurrection

Some three weeks later Paul relaxes on the veranda of Margot's villa in Corfu, finding it extremely odd to be dead. Margot had sent him newspaper cuttings about his death, and the rest of the effects he'd left at the prison. He decides to go down to quayside and runs into a familiar figure, Otto Silenus, flat broke. Silenus invites himself to stay at the villa, and announces that he has decided to marry Margot after all. Paul tells him that it's a trifle too late, as Margot has married Viscount Metroland, formerly Sir Humphrey Maltravers.

'I think I shall stay here a long time,' says Silenus, once back at the villa. 'I have no money left.' Paul reveals that he is returning to Oxford soon, going back to study theology again. Silenus comments on Paul's attempts at growing a moustache, finding it ugly in the extreme, and Paul remarks that it is in the nature of a disguise. Silenus announces his retirement to bed, only to return ten minutes later to join Paul on the terrace.

Silenus expounds on his theory of life to Paul, likening life to the big wheel at an amusement park. There are two kinds of people, he says, the ones that are content to sit in the seats on the sidelines and watch the others, and the ones who slip and slide trying to sit in the wheel at the center of the room, getting frequently flung off the wheel. There is supposedly a point in the center that is completely at rest, though the occupant is usually a ringer, a friend of the management. (Silenus thinks himself very near that point.) Some people enjoy getting flung off the wheel and scrambling back on, some like Margot, like to sit out as far as the can (on the wheel) and they hold on for dear life andenjoy that.

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter VII - Resurrection (Continued)

The point, says Silenus, is that one never has to get on the wheel at all. People can choose simple existence, with its 'psychological implications of growth and organic change', or the other life, 'the scrambling and excitement and bumps and the effort to get to the middle, ...just as if (one) had never started.' Paul, he continues, is clearly a person who was meant to sit in the observation seats, and got on to the wheel by accident, and got thrown off at once. What's good for Margot, clinging to the wheel, is simply not good for Paul. It's the difference between static and dynamic types, he continues, Paul being clearly static. Spiritually, says Silenus, the static and the dynamic are probably two different species.

Drifting away again, Silenus remarks that he knows 'no more utterly boring and futile occupation than generalizing about life.' Did Paul understand him? Paul replies in the affirmative, and Silenus tells him that he thinks he shall dine alone in the future, as so much talk makes him feel quite ill.

A few months later Paul returns to Scone College after about a year's absence. Though his death deprived him of his certificates, he still had the knowledge, and stolidly endured the entrance examinations needed to return to his old college, 'wearing a commoner's gown and a heavy cavalry moustache. Nobody rumbled on to his real identity, even though he retained the name Pennyfeather, explaining to the Chaplain that he believed a distant cousin had attended Scone a short while ago. 'He came to a very sad end,' says the Chaplain, 'a wild young man.' Paul replies that he had been a *very* distant cousin, and the Chaplain adds that he can perceive no resemblance at all, as the chap he remembers 'was a thoroughly degenerate type'.

Chapter Summary: Part III - Chapter VII - Resurrection (Conclusion)

Paul's scout (servant) also remembered the name, recalling that the earlier Pennyfeather had been very queer indeed, taking off his clothes and dancing naked in the quad at night.

On the second Sunday of term, Paul is invited to the Chaplain's for breakfast, and encounters a don and another undergraduate named Stubbs, 'a grave young man with a quiet voice and with carefully formed opinions.' Paul supports him in a discussion with the don regarding the rebuilding of the Bodleian. The next day Stubbs drops off his card (corner turned up, delivered in person), and Paul returns the visit, missing Stubbs, leaving his own card, corner turned up. Several days later he receivesa note from Stubbs inviting him to tea to meet the College Secretary of the League of Nations Union and the Chaplain of the Oxford Prison.

Paul rejoins the League of Nations Union and the O.S.C.U. One day in Blackwell's bookshop Paul finds a book entitled MOTHER WALES, by Augustus Fagan, dedicated 'To my wife, a wedding present.' Paul purchases it, placing it next to Dean Stanley's EASTERN CHURCH on his shelves. Another day, while out bicycling with Stubbs, they encounter an open Rolls with none other than Philbrick in the back. Philbrick calls out an invitation for Paul to visit him at Skindles, on the river. Who was Paul's opulent friend? asks Stubbs. 'Arnold Bennett' (a famous writer) responds Paul, and Stubbs remarks that he thought hehad recognized his face.

They arrive at their lecture, listening to 'a lucid exposition of the heresies of the second century.' Paul learns about a bishop who had 'denied the Divinity of Christ, the immortality of the soul, the existence of good,the legality of marriage, and the validity of the Sacrament of Extreme Unction. How right they had been to condemn him!' thinks Paul.

Paul is back in the safe seats.

Chapter Summary: Part III - Epilogue

It is now Paul's third peaceful year at Scone. He and Stubbs are drinking some cocoa in his rooms after having returned from a lecture about the Polish plebiscites (just as when we first encountered Paul). Stubbs prepares to leave to go back to his own digs, and they hear 'a confused roaring and breaking of glass' outside. The Bollinger dinner, remarks Paul, 'whose rooms are they in this time?' Pastmaster's says Stubbs, a fast young man, and departs.

Presently there is a knock on the door, and Peter Pastmaster (formerly Beste-Chetwynde) enters Paul's rooms, dressed in the Bollinger green and white evening coat, and asking for a drink, even though he looks a little the worse for wear already. He's got the Boller in his rooms, he tells Paul, a 'nasty lot.' Helping himself to a drink, Peter asks Paul why he's been cutting him all this time. No reason, responds Paul, only that he thought it best. 'Not angry about anything?' asks Pastmore. No, replies Paul, only to discover that Pastmore has been rather angry with Paul, just for being involved in the whole debacle.

Margot *Metroland* he tells Paul is still married to the former Maltravers, happily cuckolding him with Sir Alastair Digby-Vane-Trumpington, the man who had set the whole mess in train. Pastmore sees little of them, he remarks. What has Paul been up to? Paul responds that he is about to be ordained, and Pastmore replies that it was a mistake for Paul to have ever gotten mixed up with them, they are different sorts of people. Paul says yes, static and dynamic.

Pastmore reminisces with Paul; his time at Llanabba, teaching the organ, Margot Metroland (as he always seems to refer to his mother) wanting to marry Paul, Paul going to prison, Metroland getting him out. And here they are, at Oxford, chatting with each other. Pastmore asks if Paul remembers the toast he offered right before he was arrested, 'Fortune, a much-maligned lady.'

Chapter Summary: Part III - Epilogue (Conclusion)

He continues to ruminate in a drunken fashion, beginning his diatribe all over again, and Paul finally convinces him to go to bed. 'You drink too much, Peter', he says. 'Oh, damn, what else is there to do?' replies Pastmore.

After Pastmore's departure, Paul settles down once again. 'So the ascetic Ebionites used to turn towards Jerusalem when they prayed. Paul made a note of it. Quite right to suppress them. Then he turned out the light and went into his bedroom to sleep.'

THE END

What makes DELINE AND FALL more than just a social satire, in my opinion, is the magical way that Waugh creates his own universe, his own rules (or non-rules), peoples it with characters that are both recognizable and surreal, and manages to tell a parable at the same time. D & F is a great illustration of the sense of alienation that was beginning to overtake the decade that would end so disastrously, a sort of literary *Modern Times*.

Think about the main characters and their appearance andreappearance in Paul's life, and what seems to be a linear novel instead turns out to be circular. D & F has been compared to Dante's INFERNO, with its overlapping circles that become increasingly more terrible. The novel's basic characters: Trumpington, Philbrick, Fagan, Grimes, Prendy, Potts, Margot, Peter, and Silenus emerge in encore after encore as Paul descends into his circular hell. Waugh uses them to underscore the essential randomness and absurdity of modern life and its alienation from any true meaning. Meaning is impossible in a world with no givens, with no standards.

The concept of alienation is at the core of this book. While Waugh had not yet converted to Roman Catholicism (he was to do so in less than two years), he was already struggling with God's place in this 'Brave New World', where appearance was everything. There is a strong religious subtext beneath the typical social satire that most engages attention, and a clear protest from Waugh at what he saw as the betrayal of the belief system that makes us human. For Waugh, taking away the religious underpinnings of morality was tantamount to anarchy, as he shows us so effectively in D & F.

(Continued)

The callous recountings of death, the casual encounters with wickedness, all these serve to highlight what happens in a world without meaning. Without meaning there can be no discrimination between good and evil, no distinction, no redemption.

None of his later novels was to be in any sense a sequel to D & F. He became increasingly preoccupied with the future and function of Christianity, and while the later novels were superb, none captures for me the anguished cry of theman without an answer like DECLINE AND FALL does.

My sincere thanks to all who participated in the thread or even lurked (this means you, thejackcat), especially PseudoErasmus.

How's this for a segue into the new Readings Thread:

It seems to me that Paul Pennyfeather with his "go with the flow" persona is only slightly more attached to his own life than Bartleby is to his with his complete disregard for the world around him.

Both characters are very unreal, yet disturbingly revealing about human nature.

Maria, well done.

Maria, I just want to second the praise you're getting for your splendid summation of one of the greatest, funniest books of the century. Even Waugh would have been chuffed, assuming he could ever have mastered the Internet.

MariaGleason Message #227

you're welcome! are the summaries done yet? can we start fighting now?

Wonderful job, Maria.... I really enjoyed the book and enjoyed it even more due to your discussion. Thank you.

Maria, another thing that I think sets Waugh apart is his superb control. The construction of each novel is like a beautifully crafted piece of music, starting out languid, building to small crescendoes, then large ones, like drums building up a steady thunder until the climax that makes the reader collapse in a heap, his inner ear ringing with the force of what he/she has just experienced.

I find the technique most vividly used in "A Handful of Dust," which I rate his finest outside the trilogy.

Is there anybody at all writing today who comes close?

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