WIMSEY PAPERS XI

By DOROTHY L. SAYERS [Miss Sayers' articles will in future appear not as a weekly series, but at less regular intervals] Paul Delagardie to Lady Peter Wimsey at Talboys.

CHATEAU L'OREILLER, EDREDON-SUR-LE-NEZ, LA GRIPPE, January 22nd, 1940. ANGLETERRE.

MY DEAR HARRIET, As you will see by the address, I have fallen victim to the English climate. Rassure-toi. My malady has passed the feverish and entered the catarrhal stage ; I mention it only to excuse the inelegance of my handwriting and a certain lack of intellectual clarity which will no doubt betray itself in my epistolary style.

My child, I hasten to answer your letter which finds me full of sympathy. It is indeed a strange misfortune that in the England of today the two most excellent of her national characteristics should have suffered a public divorce. I refer, of course, to the poetic imagination and the talent for practical statesmanship. I believe this has never been the case before, or never to the same extent. Francis Bacon was no isolated phenomenon. That poets should be poli- ticians and diplomats men of letters was a commonplace so long as England shared her culture with the Continent. Account for it how you will, learning and imagination were never despised until the whole population became—I will not say " educated," for it is not that, but at any rate literate. You see the result of this unhappy development in that lack of vision in public life of which you very properly com- plain. And you are right in saying that it is the writers and thinkers who must exert themselves, at whatever per- sonal sacrifice, to close the gap, for if they wait till the other side makes the advance they will wait for ever.

If I say that they order this matter better in France, you will laugh—here is Uncle Paul riding his old hobby-horse. But it is true that the man of letters finds it easier la-bas to secure a recognised place in the machinery of public life. Our neighbours have not that English tendency to regard a man's art and poetry, like his religion, as a private and personal indulgence. It is, I suppose, that very tendency which was held in check so long as English letters and civilisation derived their life-blood from the common European source. Even in the fourteenth century the Englishman was held to be insular ; yet the educated Englishman of all centuries down to the present was far more cosmopolitan in his method of thOUght than he is today ; and it was he who then guided public affairs. In those days, travel was difficult and, for that reason, edu- cative : one could not make the tour of the world in a few weeks, finding a stereotype of England in every foreign hotel.

And since, my dear, you propose turning your intelligence to the service of your country, may I mention to you some- thing which gives me considerable pain and disquiet? I am distressed by the failure of all our public bodies and national organs to forge any links of sympathy betweea ourselves and the French people at this important juncture. True, we have an Allied command ; true, we have a united Economic Front—but there it seems to me to end. Neither in the newspapers, nor in broadcasting, nor in any other way do I detect any attempt to make Britain aware of France nor yet to recommend Britain to the French. We treat our partner, indeed, as the Englishman treats his wife—we love, honour, and take her for granted. This seems to me a great folly, as well as a great discourtesy. A true under- standing between our two countries would be a noble foundation for an intelligent peace and a united Europe— yet I think we felt more in common with France in the days when she was our " sweet enemy " than we do today, when she is our closest friend and ally. And we ought to take pains to understand France, for there is a great com- munity of culture and interests, despite a great difference of language and temperament. Understanding under these circumstances is easier, perhaps, than with a nation like America, where a likeness of language tends to obscure from us a profound unlikeness of tradition and outlook.

What do I want to see done? A great many things are possible. The B.B.C. could do so much. Concerts of French music, little dramas of French history, talks about French literature or performances of French plays, a running commentary from time to time upon French life under war-time conditions, an exchange of views between—shall we say?—French and English housewives, or what not? And in the papers, articles on these subjects, photographs, stories—que veux-tu? I do not ask for a heavy educational propaganda—that would defeat its own purpose—nor for the wagging of flags, such as we suffered from too much in the last war. I ask only for a little direction to be given to our thoughts and sympathies. I find more pictures, more headlines, more news, more gossip, devoted to other countries—to Finland, to Russia, to America, to Italy, to the various neutrals, and above all to Germany—than to our ally in arms. And I cannot think this to be wise or right.

We say we stand for liberty and democracy—is there any nation that has so good a right to speak on these subjects as France? We are concerned for the good treatment of political minorities and foreign colonies—cannot France offer us a varied and important experience in such matters? We wish to preserve our Mediterranean civilisation— through whom, if not through France, did we inherit that civilisation? We are proud in a very particular way of our mongrel race and our noble mixed language double-rooted in Saxon and Latin—have we forgotten that France is one- half of that race and the more intellectual half of that language?

And besides all this, ought we not to try very hard to make the spirit of our own people known to the people of France? Do we suppose ourselves so naturally amiable as to capture their affections without the politeness of a trifling exertion? I fear we are too complacent.

Here, my dear Harriet, is a task for you writers. You have the imagination which the politicians so singularly lack. You must write, you must speak, you must besiege the Press and the wireless ; you must even endeavour to impress your opinion upon the Ministry of Instruction and Morale, and if they are " astonished " and inform you that the spirit of Allied understanding is excellent and needs no fostering, you must nevertheless persevere. Keep in your mind that it is this very complacency which makes the Incidence of divorce so high in the British home, and that an ally, like a wife, must be won daily with kind and modest attentions. You yourself, mon enfant, are satisfied with your husband—I am happy to know it ; but let me assure you that Peter would have been as complacent as the average Briton had I not taken his education in hand from the beginning and impressed upon him that a partnership cannot flourish without a continual effort of intelligent planting and pruning and the assiduous rooting-up of the chickweed of indolence.

With this fine horticultural metaphor, I will leave the subject to your consideration. Believe me, my dear child, your very affectionate uncle, .

PAUL AUSTEN DELAGARDIE. From Lord Peter Wimsey, somewhere abroad, to Harriet, his wife, at Talboys. (Extract.) . . . You are a writer—there is something you must tell the people, but it is difficult to express. You must find the words.

Tell them, this is a battle of a new kind, and it is they who have to fight it, and they must do it themselves and alone. They must not continually ask for leadership—they must lead themselves. This is a war against submission to leadership, and we might easily win it in the field and yet lose it in our own country.

I have seen the eyes of the men who ask for leadership, and they are the eyes of slaves. The new kind of leaders are not like the old, and the common people are not pro- tected from them as they were from us. In our time their ignorance was a protection, but now they have eaten know- ledge and are left naked. I have no time to explain myself properly, but you will understand.

It's not enough to rouse up the Government to do this and that. You must rouse the people. You must make them understand that their salvation is in themselves and in each separate man and woman among them. If it's only a local committee or amateur theatricals or the avoiding being run over in the black-out, the important thing is each man's personal responsibility. They must not look to the State for guidance—they must learn to guide the State. Somehow you must contrive to tell them this. It is the only thing that matters.

I can't very well tell you just how and why this conviction has been forced upon me, but I have never felt more certain of anything. To be certain of something is rather an achievement for me, isn't it? Well, there it is—I am perfectly certain for once . .