an
abrupt truncation of those slow intellectual and moral constructions
which are the essentials of statecraft.

6

I sit writing in this little loggia to the sound of dripping water--this
morning we had rain, and the roof of our little casa is still not dry,
there are pools in the rocks under the sweet chestnuts, and the torrent
that crosses the salita is full and boastful,--and I try to recall the
order of my impressions during that watching, dubious time, before I
went over to the Conservative Party. I was trying--chaotic task--to
gauge the possibilities inherent in the quality of the British
aristocracy. There comes a broad spectacular effect of wide parks,
diversified by woods and bracken valleys, and dappled with deer; of
great smooth lawns shaded by ancient trees; of big facades of sunlit
buildings dominating the country side; of large fine rooms full of
handsome, easy-mannered people. As a sort of representative picture to
set off against those other pictures of Liberals and of Socialists I
have given, I recall one of those huge assemblies the Duchess of Clynes
inaugurated at Stamford House. The place itself is one of the vastest
private houses in London, a huge clustering mass of white and gold
saloons with polished floors and wonderful pictures, and staircases and
galleries on a Gargantuan scale. And there she sought to gather all
that was most representative of English activities, and did, in fact, in
those brilliant nocturnal crowds, get samples of nearly every section
of our social and intellectual life, with a marked predominance upon the
political and social side.

I remember sitting in one of the recesses at the end of the big saloon
with Mrs. Redmondson, one of those sharp-minded, beautiful rich women
one meets so often in London, who seem to have done nothing and to be
capable of everything, and we watched the crowd--uniforms and splendours
were streaming in from a State ball--and exchanged information. I told
her about the politicians and intellectuals, and she told me about the
aristocrats, and we sharpened our wit on them and counted the percentage
of beautiful people among the latter, and wondered if the general effect
of tallness was or was not an illusion.

They were, we agreed, for the most part bigger than the average of
people in London, and a handsome lot, even when they were not subtly
individualised. "They look so well nurtured," I said, "well cared for.
I like their quiet, well-