The Forsyte Saga Volume 2(161)

‘If he defends himself,’ said Soames, gloomily, ‘other people won’t.’

They waited, reading daily denunciations signed: ‘A mother of Three’; ‘Roger: Northampton’; ‘Victorian’; ‘Alys St Maurice’; ‘Plus Fours’; ‘Arthur Whiffkin’; ‘Sportsman if not Gentleman’; and ‘Pro Patria’; which practically all contained the words: ‘I cannot say that I have read the book through, but I have read enough to –’

It was five days before the defence fired a shot. But first came a letter above the signature: ‘Swishing Block’, which, after commenting on the fact that a whole school of so-called literature had been indicted by the editor of The Protagonist in his able letter of the 14th inst, noted with satisfaction that the said school had grace enough to take its swishing without a murmur. Not even an anonymous squeak had been heard from the whole apostolic body.

‘Forsyte,’ said Sir Lawrence, handing it to Soames, ‘That’s my very own mite, and if it doesn’t draw them – nothing will!’

But it did. The next issue of the interested journal in which the correspondence was appearing contained a letter from the greater novelist L.S.D. which restored everyone to his place. This book might or might not be Art, he hadn’t read it; but the editor of The Protagonist wrote like a pedagogue, and there was an end of him. As to the claim that literature must always wear a flannel petticoat, it was ‘piffle’, and that was that. From under the skirts of this letter the defence, to what of exultation Soames ever permitted himself, moved out in force. Among the defenders were as many as four of the selected ten associates to whom young Butterfield had purveyed copies. They wrote over their own names that Canthar was distinctly LITERATURE; they were sorry for people who thought in these days that LITERATURE had any business with morals. The work must be approached aesthetically or not at all. ART was ART, and morality was morality, and never the twain could, would, or should meet. It was monstrous that a work of this sort should have to appear with a foreign imprint. When would England recognize genius when she saw it?

Soames cut the letters out one after the other, and pasted them in a book. He had got what he wanted, and the rest of the discussion interested him no more. He had received, too, a communication from young Butterfield.

SIR,

I called on the lady last Monday, and was fortunately able to see her in person. She seemed rather annoyed when I offered her the book. ‘That book,’ she said: ‘I read it weeks ago.’ ‘It’s exciting a great deal of interest, Madam,’ I said. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Then you won’t take a copy; the price is rising steadily, it’ll be very valuable in time?’ ‘I’ve got one,’ she said. That’s what you told me to find out, sir; so I didn’t pursue the matter. I hope I have done what you wanted. But if there is anything more, I shall be most happy. I consider that I owe my present position entirely to you.

Soames didn’t know about that, but as to his future position – he might have to put the young man into the box. The question of a play remained. He consulted Michael.

‘Does that young woman still act in the advanced theatre place you gave me the name of?’

Michael winced. ‘I don’t know, sir; but I could find out.’

Inquiry revealed that she was cast for the part of Olivia in Bertie Curfew’s matinée of ‘The Plain Dealer’.

‘“The Plain Dealer”?’ said Soames. ‘Is that an advanced play?’

‘Yes, sir, two hundred and fifty years old.’

‘Ah!’ said Soames; ‘they were a coarse lot in those days. How is it she goes on there if she and the young man have split?

‘Oh! well, they’re very cool hands. I do hope you’re going to keep things out of Court, sir?’

‘I can’t tell. When’s this performance?’

‘January the seventh.’

Soames went to his club library and took down ‘Wycherley’. He was disappointed with the early portions of ‘The Plain Dealer’, but it improved as it went on, and he spent some time making a list of what George Forsyte would have called the ‘nubbly bits’. He understood that at that theatre they did not bowdlerize. Excellent! There were passages that would raise hair on any British jury. Between Canthar and this play, he felt as if he had a complete answer to any claim by the young woman and her set to having ‘morals about them’. Old professional instincts were rising within him. He had retained Sir James Foskisson, K.C., not because he admired him personally, but because if he didn’t, the other side might. As junior he was employing very young Nicholas Forsyte; he had no great opinion of him, but it was as well to keep the matter in the family, especially if it wasn’t to come into Court.