1936 On the Continent

any personal distinction under a mask of humour; and provided, above all, that you do nothing to draw your neighbour “out of his depth.” If he loses his footing, the blunder is yours. If he is as good a swimmer as you, lead him on gently and cautiously, and be careful always to leave him a chance to swim, if he so wishes, towards the warm, safe shallows under the bank. Above all, don’t talk to authors about their books, nor to cabinet ministers about their politics. Not that the English dislike flattery more than any other people, but here it must be more dexterous and cryptic.
    This code, however, would not hold in that small set, intelligent and rather exclusive, which is conveniently labelled “Bloomsbury” although it exists as much in parts of Chelsea or Mayfair. Conversation in these circles is a continuous flow of epigram, and reveals at every turn an incredible and universal erudition. But here too the English sense of shame in intellectualism is betrayed by the extreme swiftness of the exchange and its veiled allusiveness. They seem to wish to apologise for the sparkle of their wit by the obscurity of their expression.
    After dinner you will suddenly see your hostess rise. That is the moment for the ladies to withdraw. The men remain alone, long enough to smoke a cigar. And you would like to know what happens then? Nothing mysterious. The port and brandy are circulated, but hardly touched. The host moves round to sit beside his chief guests, tells stories, makes himself generally agreeable. I apologise for saying it, but this is certainly the moment when the men in this country are at their most interesting: the moment too when great matters are dealt with in brief asides. The politics of England and of Europe have more than once been transformed by a few murmured passages between two men who have turned their chairs towards each other at the end of a table.
    It is in the country, and at week-ends, that you will catch the true essence of English life. These great houses,cut off from the outer world by parks that are counties in themselves, are beginning to disappear. It is a pity: England was made in them. You will arrive on Saturday about tea-time. Do not come too soon. The week-end would be exhausting if one did not arrange moments of repose for oneself. Make it clear at once, and firmly, that you don’t come down for breakfast. Seek refuge for part of the day in the library. You will in any case be left perfectly free. The charm of these visits is in the unforced intimacy.
    And also in the perfection of the servants. Shaw and Barrie have found amusement in showing the exalted station held in the scale of mankind by the English butler. They have not exaggerated. The best of them are geniuses, with gifts of magic. They know everything, arrange everything, control everything, and all
sotto voce
, without emphasis, occasionally with the ghost of a smile. Servants here love their vocation and believe in the hierarchy over which they keep guard. Miss Sackville-West, in
The Edwardians
, has described the order of precedence in the servants’ hall: it is stricter than that which prevails above-stairs.
    Do not imagine that there is something terrifying about your face if, as you approach your bedroom, you see the startled housemaids fleeing like a flight of doves. It is a strange rule that these efficient and silent vestals should never be met face to face. A complex strategy of corridors and screens enables them, in this country where guests spend little time in their rooms, to carry out their work as if, like Wells’s invisible man, they were transparent creatures of the void. I have been told of an aged nobleman who would be out of temper all day long if he caught sight of a fleeing petticoat in the distance.
    What about love? It is the fashion among the younger generation to regard love-making as a pleasant form of sport, and to keep it free of all sentimental converse. “I am not the conventional lover,” all the stage heroines here seem to say. What they mean is that their convention is different. Passion is suspect: “If you’re going to take this seriously, we mustn’t see any more of each other.” This cynicism is a passing fashion. Marriage is made delightful by the sight of old English couples, and you will also find in London liaisons of old standing, cemented by long habit and silently respected.
    For in England durability is the most important element in success. No public tires of a