2. A Society

        t all came about. Six or seven of us ting one day after tea. Some reet into t still sly upon scarlet feattle toea tray. After a time, so far as I    remember, o praise men—rong, , iful to get attae for life—o tears. Poll, I must tell ye man.    une in    on dition t sed     y; leaves ied; and must    not one of to marry    last sears. For some time    srange enoug , as    of ime iure on top floor; and eadily imes on ttom. And noerrible t    to    and speakiy of desolation    part unutterably bad!”

        Of course    t Se books, and Milton and Shelley.

        “Oerrupted us. “You’ve been aug you are not members of t lengttle, s    it    ten by a man called Benton or    kind. S feened in silence. “But t’s not a book,” someone said. So sime it    I ten ter’s name. Our trepidation increased as s on. Not a    seemed to be true, and tyle in ten was execrable.

        “Poetry! Poetry!” iently.

        “Read us poetry!” I ot describe tion    timental foolery ained.

        “It must ten by a    no. Sold us t it ten by a young man, one of t famous poets of to imagine o read no more, sed and read us extracts from t and    of us, rose to    and said t s vinced.

        “e suced to the world?”

        e ; and, in t, “eaco read?”

        Clorinda    to e to ’s all our fault,” so read. But no one, save Poll, aken trouble to do it. I, for one, aken it fra it y to spend ed my moten; still more my grandmoteen; it ion to bear ty. e    men rious, and t t. ures. e ed t. But no s us from judging ts? Before o t s    he world is like.”

        So o a society for asking questions. One of us o visit a man–of–o udy; anoto attend a meeting of business men;    pictures, go to certs, keep our eyes open is, and ask questioually. e y    before parting t nig ts of life o produce good people and good books. Our questions o be directed to finding out s tained by men. e vo    bear a single cil isfied.

        Off    to tiso to Oxford; oto Cambridge; ed tate;    rooms,    to ts, and sa    asking ner certaiions and carefully noting    intervals    togetions. Oing! Never es upon “y’s sain visited e gentleman) and dema isfied. “But    ing t    moment    over and received, to , six ligaps upon tis p dorembling rigriking an attitude and imitating ty of ill to be satisfied!” “Spoken like a gentleman!” urned, and fell into profound t. “If six strokes avee gentleman?” o lay tily t s . y. “Let me see,”     ted. “My mot mention your motrembling like an aspen and fluso ts of    en mi least before so proceed. At lengt if srokes and a    a spot indicated by ion of t t    grandmot trafalgar) it o a restaurant; drank ttles of ed estations of eternal friendship.

        t of    to ts. At    visit so t ted by large animals resembling man o move reme dignity, mumble and nod to test ed a tles at tical moment of a trial, but o judge    sime to see to t from t ed t it is unfair to suppose t the Judges are men.

        to t ures so recite from a pale blue volume, “O! for touc is still. er, , love is brief. Spring, t King. O! to be in England no April’s t    y is to glory—” e could listen to no more of this gibberish.

        “e    no more poetry!” we cried.

        “Daug er getting spilt over he scuffle.

        “t and see if I ’t brus remains of tically. Getting up so explain to us ures are like opped her.

        “ is ture?” s by tes    to meet eac your     e, disguised as a co ttempt to give you some idea—only,” s to do it. It’s all so queer. t on, “live in large    round grass plots eac t. You o press a butttle lamp. tifully filed. Books abound. tray cats and one aged bullfinine uses. You reacory t pipes, , bristly little plants eace pot. On a    said. But s old o keep to t. “ell,” s, I examined ion of Sapp’s a queer looking book, six or seven inc all by Sapp of it is a defence of Sappity, lemen argued, ty ed t ounded me; especially    y?” e misuood her.

        “No, no,” sested, “ t ain in t. I ’s cactuses.    could t city?”

        Again old    to ,—did to produce good people and good books?—ts of life.

        “t ruck me to ask. It never occurred to me t thing.”

        “I believe,” said Sue, “t you made some mistake. Probably Professor . A sc sort of man. A s—pered to    ?—a deligle, imaginative—as stands to reason. For     ed.”

        “alia. “Perter go bad try again.”

        Some ter it    I ting alone ered. I don’t kno    so moved me; but I could not restrain myself, and, das only s. “ down.

        “I’ve been at e,” she said.

        “Asking questions?”

        “Anshem,” she replied.

        “You    broken our voig somet her figure.

        “Oo ’s    imagine,” s out, “ing, iful, isfying—”

        “ is?” I asked.

        “to—to—ansions,” sold me tory. But in t ed aed me more tra cry, half whoop, half holloa—

        “City! City! ity!” s bottle!”

        t a cruet taining mustard, o administer when she recovered her posure.

        “You s of t ths ago,” I said severely.

        “true,” s muo unate, by t my motalia.”

        “Oalia, your motard pot.

        “No, no, no,” se    of me—instead of e.” So    on talking.

        Meao discuss ts of our observations. Everyone, I t, felt as I did about Castalia. to see    lengt it ime to begin. S    ts o be inclusive—alia nudged me and    t. t up, and, interrupting Jane in tence, said:

        “Before you say any more, I    to knoo stay in to fess t I am an impure woman.”

        Everyone looked at onis.

        “Yoing to have a baby?” asked Jane.

        She nodded her head.

        It raordinary to see t expressions on t of    tcalia,” and so on. Jao us:

        “Shall she go? Is she impure?”

        Suc reet outside.

        “No! No! No! Let ay! Impure? Fiddlesticks!” Yet I fa some of t, girls of een or ty,    ions, and at last I sa, o her:

        “ is city t good, or is it bad, or is it not all?” S I could not catc she said.

        “You kno ten minutes.”

        “In my opinion,” said Poll, ity is not ignorance—a most discreditable state of mind. e s only te to our society. I vote t Castalia s.”

        tly disputed.

        “It is as unfair to brand ity as ity,” said Poll. “Some of us    tunity eit believe Cassy ains t sed as she did from a pure love of knowledge.”

        “y–one and divinely beautiful,” said Cassy, ure.

        “I move,” said    no one be alloo talk of city or uncity save those who are in love.”

        “Oo stific matters, “I’m not in love and I’m longing to explain my measures for dispensing itutes ailizing virgins by Act of Parliament.”

        S on to tell us of an iion of o be erected at tube stations and ots, ios sons, and relieve its daugrived a metubes ture Lord Cs or painters or musis,” s on, “supposing, t is to say, t t extinct, and t ill wiso bear children—”

        “Of course iently. Jane rapped table.

        “t is t    to sider,” srying to find out inuing talia icipated our decision. But it remains for t of us to make up our minds.”

        er anots. tion far exceeded our expectations, and, as    for t time alks across space, pees to t of an atom, and embraces tions, a murmur of admiration burst from our lips.

        “e are proud,”    our motalia, ently, looked prouder t. t alia begged us to make e. On    t tangle of statistics. e learnt t England ion of so many millions, and t su of tantly    t so great a pertage of    to cs s to factories, sions ock Excic y, and of a Gover Office. tis ting by Castalia and I noticed her uneasiness.

        “e so any clusion at all at te,” s appears t civilisation is so mu,    not be better to fine ourselves to our inal enquiry? e agreed t it    of life to produce good people and good books. All time ories, and money. Let us talk about men ts, for t is t of tter.”

        So t stepped foraining anso tions. ter mu. A good man,    any rate be , passionate, and un icular man possessed ties could only be discovered by asking questions, often beginning at a remote distance from tre. Is Kensington a nice place to live in? ed—and your daugell me,    or only a k seemed t    more from trivial questions of t ones. “I accepted my peerage,” said Lord Bunkum, “because my    itles ed for teen    of ty–four, as I do—” ten thousand professional men began.

        “No, no, of course you eite. But oo, or per is more signifit to ans all to questions about morality and religion, and suc serious. Questions as to t invariably brus extreme risk to t if Sir igs    been carving tton alist system    my t. t me once so oo muind w we say.”

        “Of course t time    for tists. No, has she, Polls?”

        “Jane—Austen—Cte—Bronte—Gee—Eliot,” cried Poll, like a man g muffins in a back street.

        “Damn t a bore she is!”

        “Since Sapp rate—” Eleanan, quoting from a weekly neer.

        “It’s no Sapp leion of Professor errupted.

        “Anyo suppose t any e or ever o e,” Eleanor tinued. “A, alk to me about terly! I say, or S say somethey believe me.”

        “t proves not. Only,” s doesn’t seem to ter examine modern literature . Liz, it’s your turn.”

        Elizabet in order to prosecute aken for a reviewer.

        “I ty steadily for t five years,” said s popular livit; ton Makenzie; Mr. Ma and Mr. alpole may be bracketed toget down.

        “But you’ve told us notulated. “Or do you mean t tlemen ly surpassed Jane–Elliot and t Englision is—w review of yours? Oheir hands.’”

        “Safe, quite safe,” sing uneasily from foot to foot. “And I’m sure t they receive.”

        e . “But,” we pressed e good books?”

        “Good books?” s t remember,” sreme rapidity, “t fi is t deny t education is of t importance, and t it remely annoying, if you found yourself alo Brige at nig to knoay at, and suppose it    it be o go to the Movies?”

        “But    to do ?” we asked.

        “Notever,” she replied.

        “ell, tell us truth,” we bade her.

        “trut isn’t it er ten a icle for t ty years upon love or    buttered toast and    all o Eton—”

        “truth!” we demanded.

        “Orutammered, “truto do erature,” and sitting doher word.

        It all seemed to us very inclusive.

        “Ladies,    try to sum up ts,” Jane he open window, drowned her voice.

        “ar! ar! ar! Declaration of ar!” me below.

        e looked at eacher in horror.

        “ oo late, t o tten all about it. e turo Poll, en us.

        “o war?”

        “Sometimes for one reason, sometimes for anots outside drorians in 1866–1870 her hand—”

        “But it’s no .

        “A knoo ed.

        [1] * * * *

        talia in tings used to be urning over te books. “Queer,” I mused, “to see alia quoted, reading over my s it is t of life to produce good people and good books.” e made no ent upon t. “A good man is at any rate , passionate and un ,” s on. “I believe    on purpose—t ridiculous o read all t learnt to read,” sterly, “ life after all. I knoo say about    our mot, and t plain. t read. I’ve done my best,” so prevent my little girl from learning to read, but    Ann only yesterday o ask me if it rue.’    st is a good , and finally o believe in nothing?” she demanded.

        “Surely you could teaco believe t a man’s intellect is, and alally superior to a ed. Se to turn over our old minutes again. “Yes,” sics, to laug old    on reading and laug se    out, “Oorment me? Don’t you kno our belief in man’s intellect is test fallacy of t?” I exclaimed. “Ask any journalist, scer, politi or public ell you t men are muced it,” s?     t siime so t t’s all our doing!” sed upon elled no it. And it’s intellect,” sinued, “t’s at ttom of it.    could be more co cultivate ellect? iful to look at; ands t and literature instinctively;    enjoying eaco cultivate ellect. er, a civil servant, a general, an auto an office. Every year ains a o a room    making us all feel unfortable; o every    tell truto ead of rejoig our eyes o take rue, tars of all s o sole us? t ime to spend a    La t i in Japan s body? O us devise a met is our only c occupation s of tivity; and not a o kno there once was Shakespeare!”

        “It is too late,” I replied. “e ot provide even for t we have.”

        “And to believe in intellect,” she said.

        reet, and, listening, reaty of Peace    been sigerfered no doubt he fireworks.

        “My cook alia, “and Ann    out over ea. I must go home.”

        “It’s no good—not a bit of good,” I said. “Once so read teaco believe in—and t is herself.”

        “ell, t would be a calia.

        So    up ty, and, t of t and told o be President of ty of ture—upon o tears, poor little girl.
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