Mr. Britling Sees It Through by H. G. Wells Page A

amiable, obviously a little out of condition, became more confident, drew nearer.
    â€œI’m sorry to have missed him,” he said cheerfully. “I thought he might come this way. It’s going to be a very warm day indeed. Let us sit about somewhere and talk.
    â€œOf course,” he said, turning to Direck, “Rendezvous is the life and soul of the country.”
    They strolled towards a place of seats and hammocks between the big trees and the rose-garden and the talk turned for a time upon Rendezvous. “They have the tidiest garden in Essex,” said Manning. “It’s not Mrs. Rendezvous’ fault that it is so. Mrs. Rendezvous, as a matter of fact, has a taste for the picturesque. She just puts the things about in groups in the beds. She wants them, she says, to grow anyhow. She desires a romantic disorder. But she never gets it. When he walks downthe path all the plants dress instinctively. … And there’s a tree near their gate; it used to be a willow. You can ask any old man in the village. But ever since Rendezvous took the place it’s been trying to present arms. With the most extraordinary results. I was passing the other day with old Windershin. ‘You see that there old poplar,’ he said. ‘It’s a willow,’ said I. ‘No,’ he said, ‘it did used to be a willow before Colonel Rendezvous he came. But now it’s a poplar,’ … And by Jove, it is a poplar!” …
    The conversation thus opened by Manning centred for a time upon Colonel Rendezvous. He was presented as a monster of energy and self-discipline; as the determined foe of every form of looseness, slackness, and easygoingness.
    â€œHe’s done wonderful work for the local Boy Scout movement,” said Manning
    â€œIt’s Kitchenerism,” said Britling.
    â€œIt’s the army side of the efficiency stunt,” said Manning.
    There followed a digression upon the Boy Scout movement, and Mr. Direck made comparisons with the propaganda of Seton Thompson in America. “Teddy Rooseveltism,” said Manning. “It’s a sort of reaction against everything being too easy and too safe.”
    â€œIt’s got its anti-decadent side,” said Mr. Direck.
    â€œIf there is such a thing as decadence,” said Mr. Britling.
    â€œIf there wasn’t such a thing as decadence,” said Manning, “we journalists would have had to invent it.”. …
    â€œThere is something tragic in all this—what shall I call it?—Kitchenerism,” Mr. Britling reflected. “Here you have it rushing about and keeping itself—screwed up, and trying desperately to keep the country screwed up. And all because there may be a war some day somehow with Germany. Provided Germany is insane. It’s that war, like some sort of bee in Rendezvous’ brains,that is driving him along the road now to Market Saffron—he always keeps to the roads because they are severer—through all the dust and sunshine. When he might be here gossiping. …
    â€œAnd you know, I don’t see that war coming,” said Mr. Britling. “I believe Rendezvous sweats in vain. I can’t believe in that war. It has held off for forty years. It may hold off for ever.”
    He nodded his head towards the German tutor, who had come into view across the lawn, talking profoundly with Mr. Britling’s eldest son.
    â€œLook at that pleasant person. There he is— echt Deutsch —if anything ever was. Look at my son there! Do you see the two of them engaged in mortal combat? The thing’s too ridiculous. The world grows sane. They may fight in the Balkans still; in many ways the Balkan States are in the very rear of civilisation; but to imagine decent countries like this or Germany going back to bloodshed! No. … When I see Rendezvous keeping it up and keeping it up, I begin to see just how poor Germany must be keeping it up. I begin