Evelyn Waugh - Decline and Fall

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Subtitled "A Novel of Many Manners," Evelyn Waugh's famous first novel lays waste the "heathen idol" of British sportmanship, the cultured perfection of Oxford and inviolable honor code of English upper classes.
Paul Pennyfeather, innocent victim of a drunken orgy, is expelled from Oxford College, which costs him a career in the church. He turns to teaching, frequently the last resort of failures, and at Llanabba Castle meets a friend, Beste-Chetwynde. But Margot, Beste-Chetwynde's mother, introduces him to the questionable delights of high society. Suddenly, and improbably, he is engaged to marry Margot. Just as they are about to say "I do," Scotland Yard arrives and arrests Peter for his involvement in Margot's white slave-trading ring.

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'Will you take round the foie gras sandwiches, Mr Pennyfeather? said Dingy. 'They are not for the boys or Captain Grimes.

'One for little me! said Flossie as he passed her.

Philbrick, evidently regarding himself as one of the guests, was engaged in a heated discussion on greyhound-racing with Sam Clutterbuck.

'What price the coon? he asked as Paul gave him a sandwich.

'It does my heart good to see old Prendy enjoying himself, said Grimes. 'Pity he shot that kid, though.

'There's not much the matter with him to see the way he's eating his tea. I say, this is rather a poor afternoon, isn't it?

'Circulate, old boy, circulate. Things aren't going too smoothly.

Nor indeed were they. The sudden ebullition of ill-feeling over the Three‑mile race, though checked by the arrival of Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde, was by no means forgotten. There were two distinctly hostile camps in the tea‑tent. On one side stood the Circumferences, Tangent, the Vicar, Colonel Sidebotham, and the Hope‑Brownes; on the other the seven Clutterbucks, Philbrick, Flossie, and two or three parents who had been snubbed already that afternoon by Lady Circumference. No one spoke of the race, but outraged sportsmanship glinted perilously in every eye. Several parents, intent on their tea, crowded round Dingy and the table. Eminently aloof from all these stood Chokey and Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde. Clearly the social balance was delicately poised, and the issue depended upon them. With or without her nigger, Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde was a woman of vital importance.

'Why, Dr Fagan, she was saying, 'it is too disappointing that we've missed the sports. We had just the slowest journey, stopping all the time to see the churches. You can't move Chokey once he's seen an old church. He's just crazy about culture, aren't you, darling?

'I sure am that, said Chokey.

'Are you interested in music? said the Doctor tactfully.

'Well, just you hear that, Baby, said Chokey, 'am I interested in music? I should say I am.

'He plays just too divinely, said Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde.

'Has he heard my new records, would you say?

'No, darling, I don't expect he has.

'Well, just you hear them , sir, and then you'll know — am I interested in music.

'Now, darling, don't get discouraged. I'll take you over and introduce you to Lady Circumference. It's his inferiority‑complex, the angel. He's just crazy to meet the aristocracy, aren't you, my sweet?

'I sure am that, said Chokey.

'I think it's an insult bringing a nigger here, said Mrs Clutterbuck. 'It's an insult to our own women.

'Niggers are all right, said Philbrick. 'Where I draw a line is a Chink, nasty inhuman things. I had a pal bumped off by a Chink once. Throat cut horrible, it was, from ear to ear.

'Good gracious! said the Clutterbuck governess; 'was that in the Boxer rising?

'No, said Philbrick cheerfully. 'Saturday night in the Edgware Road. Might have happened to any of us.

'What did the gentleman say? asked the children.

'Never you mind, my dears. Run and have some more of the green cake.

They ran off obediently, but the little boy was later heard whispering to his sister as she knelt at her prayers, 'cut horrible from ear to ear', so that until quite late in her life Miss Clutterbuck would feel a little faint when she saw a bus that was going to the Edgware Road.

'I've got a friend lives in Savannah, said Sam, 'and he's told me a thing or two about niggers. Of course it's hardly a thing to talk about before the ladies, but, to put it bluntly, they have uncontrollable passions. See what I mean?

'What a terrible thing! said Grimes.

'You can't blame 'em, mind; it's just their nature. Animal, you know. Still, what I do say is, since they're like that, the less we see of them the better.

'Quite, said Mr Clutterbuck.

'I had such a curious conversation just now, Lord Circumference was saying to Paul, 'with your bandmaster over there. He asked me whether I should like to meet his sister‑in‑law; and when I said, "Yes, I should be delighted to," he said that it would cost a pound normally, but that he'd let me have special terms. What can he have meant, Mr Pennyfoot?

' 'Pon my soul, Colonel Sidebotham was saying to the Vicar, 'I don't like the look of that nigger. I saw enough of Fuzzy-Wuzzy in the Soudan ‑ devilish good enemy and devilish bad friend. I'm going across to talk to Mrs Clutterbuck. Between ourselves, I think Lady C. went a bit far. I didn't see the race myself, but there are limits….

'Rain ain't doin' the turnip crop any good, Lady Circumference was saying.

'No, indeed, said Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde. 'Are you in England for long?

'Why, I live in England, of course, said Lady Circumference.

'My dear, how divine! But don't you find it just too expensive?

This was one of Lady Circumference's favourite topics, but somehow she did not feel disposed to enlarge on it to Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde with the same gusto as when she was talking to Mrs Sidebotham and the Vicar's wife. She never felt quite at ease with people richer than herself.

'Well, we all feel the wind a bit since the war, she said briefly. 'How's Bobby Pastmaster?

'Dotty, said Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde, 'terribly dotty, and he and Chokey don't get on. You'll like Chokey. He's just crazy about England, too. We've been around all the cathedrals, and now we're going to start on the country houses. We were thinking of running over to see you at Castle Tangent one afternoon.

'That would be delightful, but I'm afraid we are in London at present. Which did you like best of the cathedrals, Mr Chokey?

'Chokey's not really his name, you know. The angel's called "Mr Sebastian Cholmondley."

'Well, said Mr Cholmondley, 'they were all fine, just fine. When I saw the cathedrals my heart just rose up and sang within me. I sure am crazy about culture. You folk think because we're coloured we don't care about nothing but jazz. Why, I'd give all the jazz in the world for just one little stone from one of your cathedrals.

'It's quite true. He would.

'Well, that's most interesting, Mr Cholmondley. I used to live just outside Salisbury when I was a girl, but, little as I like jazz, I never felt quite as strongly as that about it.

'Salisbury is full of historical interest, Lady Circumference, but in my opinion York Minster is the more refined.

'Oh, you angel! said Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde. 'I could eat you up every bit.

'And is this your first visit to an English school? asked the Doctor.

'I should say not. Will you tell the Doctor the schools I've seen?

'He's been to them all, even the quite new ones. In fact, he liked the new ones best.

'They were more spacious. Have you ever seen Oxford?

'Yes; in fact, I was educated there.

'Were you, now? I've seen Oxford and Cambridge and Eton and Harrow. That's me all over. That's what I like, see? I appreciate art. There's plenty coloured people come over here and don't see nothing but a few night clubs. I read Shakespeare, said Chokey, 'Hamlet, Macbeth, King Lear. Ever read them?

'Yes, said the Doctor; 'as a matter of fact, I have.

'My race, said Chokey, 'is essentially an artistic race, We have the child's love of song and colour and the child's natural good taste. All you white folks despise the poor coloured man….

'No, no, said the Doctor.

'Let him say his piece, the darling, said Mrs Beste Chetwynde. 'Isn't he divine!

'You folks all think the coloured man hasn't got a soul. Anything's good enough for the poor coloured man. Beat him; put him in chains; load him with burdens…. Here Paul observed a responsive glitter in Lady Circumference's eye. 'But all the time that poor coloured man has a soul same as you have. Don't he breathe the same as you? Don't he eat and drink? Don't he love Shakespeare and cathedrals and the paintings of the old masters same as you? Isn't he just asking for your love and help to raise him from the servitude into which your forefathers plunged him? Oh, say, white folks, why don't you stretch out a helping hand to the poor coloured man, that's as good as you are, if you'll only let him be?

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