The Catholic padre makes no bones about it. "Both started," he says, "by denying God, and no figs could grow from that thistle." But I have no such rational grounds for saying, "I told you so." For me to say, "I object as a Christian" would be rather like saying "I object as a native of Norfolk" — the one qualification bearing about as much relation to my conduct as the other, and being just about as geographical. I don't demand that my bootmaker should have Christian principles. I don't object to an atheist barber — though, come to think of it, I suppose nothing in theory need prevent an atheist barber from cutting my throat if he feels like it. The law is framed on the assumption that my life is sacred; but upon my word I can see no sanction for that assumption at all, except on the hypothesis that I am an image of God — made, I should say, by a shockingly bad sculptor. And if I see no sanctity in myself, why should I see it in Finland? But I do. It seems altogether irrational.
All the same, I still have the sense of liberation. "Fall into the hand of God, not into the hand of economic humanity." One can say it now without feeling obliged to apologise for one's class prejudices…
Saturday
… Like the gentleman in the carol, I have seen a wonder sight — the Catholic padre and the refugee Lutheran minister having a drink together and discussing, in very bad Latin, the persecution of the Orthodox Church in Russia. I have seldom heard so much religious toleration or so many false quantities…
Tuesday
… My papers have arrived, so the balloon goes up tonight. When M- handed them over, he said, "You have a wife and family, haven't you?" I said "Yes," and felt curiously self-conscious. The first time it has mattered a curse whether I went west or not. M- looked at me as I used to look at my own married officers when they volunteered for a dirty bit of work, and it all seemed absurd and incongruous.
I shall not keep a diary over there. So, in case of accident, I will write my own epitaph now: HERE LIES AN ANACHRONISM IN THE VAGUE EXPECTATION OF ETERNITY.
8. From Mr. Paul Delagardie to Lady Peter Wimsey at Talboys.
EUROPEAN CLUB,
PICCADILLY, W.
December 9th, 1939.
My dear Harriet,
I am charmed to learn that you are all progressing favourable in your rustic retirement. Thank you, mon enfant, my arthritis is better, in spite of the idiosyncrasies of the climate, which continues to exhibit the British illogicality and independence of enlightened cosmoploitan opinion in its most insular and insolent form. However, it has its uses as a deterrent to that fellow Hitler's aerial ambitions; I understand from the papers that the elimination of this country is now postponed until May.
This will give us time to get forward with your scheme — of which I cordially approve — of immediately pulling down the disgusting rookeries in which the unfortunate proletariat are huddled. My only quarrel with your admirable pamphlet on National Housing is that it does not go far enough. I would pull down everything; but perhaps, when we have destroyed the hovels of the poor, enemy bombers will complete the process by blowing up the palaces of the rich and the soulless villas of the middle-class. Then (always supposing we survive the attack) we shall be able to start from a tabula rasa, to construct those houses for human beings which you — very wisely — desire, rather than the "houses for heroes" postulated by our previous grandiloquence. (What an expression! It suggests some species of Gothic Valhalla, decorated with baroque ornament in the German manner. But in fact, if I remember rightly, our first attempts to materialise this ambitious scheme were carried out in compressed cow-dung.)
I say, I would pull down everything. I am not being barbarian or perverse — I am being purely logical. Consider how in former days, when Reason was still acknowledged as a universal reality, the structure of buildings was adapted to the method of warfare in vogue. The mediaeval castle or town expected assault horizontally, from arrows or primitive artillery: it was therefore defended vertically with thick exterior walls and loophole windows. Today, attack may be looked for vertically from the air — would not the logical consequence be to remove the defences from wall to roof — from the vertical to the horizontal position? Yes, as the science of ballistics and acrobatics advances, we continue, in defiance of common sense to erect tall buildings with immense acres of glass and even with glass skylights! If we did not suffer from a dislocation of mind that prevents any rational synthesis of aim, we should model our domestic architecture upon the Maginot Line. We should build downwards and interpose at least thirty feet of good, smothering earth between ourselves and air-borne high explosive.
You will say: Do you wish to turn us into Troglodytes? Why not? "Troglodyte" is a descriptive epithet; it is not a term of abuse. When the development of civilisation makes it appropriate to dwell in caves, then to be a Troglodyte is highly civilised.
Consider the increased beauty and utility of the country-side when all the ugly evidences of man's habitation shall have been removed to a decent subterranean privacy! The whole face of England would be one uninterrupted countryside, embellished only by such elegant relics of overground civilisation as might be thought worthy of preservation, such as cathedrals, castles, colleges, family mansions, and so forth. These would be maintained as a national heritage, and could be made the objects of excursions and educational visits, by means of the surface-roads, which I would have reserved purely for pleasurable purposes. No longer would it be necessary to traverse many miles of hideous suburbs to gain the open country. Rural delights would be — not at your door, but on your roof; the nearest municipal lift would life you and your car, in a few minutes, into the enjoyment of the wide open spaces. No longer would rich arable land be rendered sterile by the operations of the speculative builder. On every foot of English soil, the corn would wave, trees flourish, and flocks and herds find pasture. At threat of aerial assault, the cattle could be swiftly removed to a safe harbour below ground where they and the civil population could remain at ease while the bombs exploded harmlessly over their heads.
Defence would be greatly simplified. Nothing would need to be guarded except the entrances and ventilating shafts; and indeed these, in time of emergency, could be closed in by strong trapdoors and covered with sandbags, while a central plant dispensed chemically produced artificial air to the protected city. Thus attention could be concentrated upon sea-routes and coastal defences, with great economy of man-power. The disposal of sewage presents itself to me as problem — but I have no doubt that engineering ingenuity could deal with it by pumps, septic tanks and so forth, transporting it to sewage farms placed on the surface at a sufficient distance from the pleasure-routes. (After all, the Maginot Line presumably enjoys sanitary advantages of this kind.)
As for transport and communications, these would be carried, as the Mersey traffic is at present, by great arterial tunnels for road and electric rail, which would also form conduits for water, electricity, telephones et hoc genus omne. Ventilation would be artificial, as proposed for the Channel Tunnel; and as the lighting would be equally good by night and by day no headlamps would be necessary. Only light vehicles would be permitted on the surface-ways; every species of monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, whether lorry, omnibus, army caterpillar or goods-train, would be confined below, to the great improvement of the landscape and the general amenities of travel.