WIMSEY PAPERS -V
By DOROTHY L. SAYERS
[These extracts from the war-time letters and papers of the Wimsey family appear weekly in THE SPECTATOR] 8. From Mr. Paul Delagardie to Lady Peter Wimsey at Talboys.
EUROPEAN CLUB, December 9th, 1939. PICCADILLY, W.
MY DEAR HARRIET, I am charmed to learn that you are all progressing favour- ably 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 cosmopolitan 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 orna- ment in the German manner. But in fact, if I remember rightly, our first attempts to materialise this ambitious ccheme 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? Yet, as the science of ballistics and aerobatics advances, we con- tinue, 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 ex- plosive.
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 Trog- lodyte 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 country- side, 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 lift 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 a 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 he 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.
To an underground population, the English climate would be robbed of more than half its terrors ; and in addition, there would be a great saving in such items of domestic expenditure as rain-proofing, frost-proofing and heating. You cannot have failed to notice the ecluable temperature of such natural caves as Wookey Hole, for example, which are warmer in winter and cooler in summer than any spot on the surface. This economy would counterbalance the necessarily increased expenditure in lighting. No doubt there would be a great outcry from old-fashioned persons of the fresh-air brigade ; but, as you know, I have no pre- judices in favour of " le courant d'air," any more than any other healthy animal. My cat and my dog arc not such unnatural fools as to sleep—or endeavour to sleep—exposed to the violent stimulants of strong air and light ; they very sensibly choose the snuggest corner, and bury eyes and nose as deeply as possible in their fur. Thus they anaesthetise themselves to slumber, in the same manner as birds and other creatures that are not afraid to trust their God-given instincts. Animals prefer to be either definitely indoors or definitely out-of-doors. It is " man, proud man," who con- founds all natural distinctions by setting the windows of his house ajar and taking his outdoor exercise enclosed in a box. Thus, either way, he relinquishes the healthy enjoy- ment of cosiness on the one hand and fresh air on the other, to indulge in a perverted passion for draughts. Not that I condemn his passion as such, for all man's passions are per- verted ; I object, logically, to his miscalling them virtues, and breaking all natural laws in the name of " Nature."
No, my dear child: if we truly desire to see " England's green and pleasant land," let us refrain from building a shoddy brick Jerusalem all over it. Let us quietly dig ourselves in—and thus not merely " dig for victory," as the new-fangled slogan runs, but " dig for peace " by removing the temptation to aerial attack which a great, sprawling, vulnerable network of open town must of necessity present to the ill-disposed. No doubt the period of transition would be costly, but less so than a war, and in time we should so adapt our lives and resources that to dig would be as cheap as the building of sky-scrapers. Further, agricul- tural and industrial pursuits could be carried on without mutual interference: towns would no longer devastate agrarian sites, nor would the free pursuit of rural occupa- tions obstruct the proper development of urban districts. All would be orderly ; all would be safe ; all would be beautiful.
I have, of course, no hope that my reasonable counsel will prevail in the face of rooted prejudice, vested interests and the steady refusal of mankind to contemplate radical changes in their mode of living. I have just read that, last week, three barrage balloons broke loose, fouled the overhead power cables and plunged half a county into darkness. Need I point out that, in the Utopia I contemplate, there would have been no necessity for the balloons and no overhead cables for them to foul? Would any body of people except English business men ever put high-tension cables in the air, to be a menace to birds, cattle, aeroplanes and human beings and perpetually vulnerable to atmospherical con- ditions and trifling accidents? The excuse given is that it will prove still more costly to bury a defunct civilisation, and that a live rabbit is better than a dead donkey.
I send you my little idea ; you might make a novel out of it. It is proof, at any rate, that a rationally-minded person is never too old to contemplate revolution.
Meilleures amities. Embrasse les enfants de ma part. Bien a toi- PAUL AUSTIN DELAGARDIE.
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