Hugh Walpole

“ Walpole, has ever beheld. During one month it is impossible to ‘go out’ in London without meeting Mr. Walpole—and then for a long period he is a mere legend of dinner tables. He returns to the dinner tables with a novel complete.”
In the same magazine, in an article reprinted in the same booklet, Mrs. Belloc Lowndes, that excellent weaver of mystery stories and sister of Hilaire Belloc, said: “Before all things Hugh Walpole is an optimist, with a great love for and a great belief in human nature. His outlook is essentially sane, essentially normal. ”

“ His was the first figure to catch my eye that evening in Petrograd; he stood under the dusky lamp in the vast gloomy Warsaw station, with exactly the expression that I was afterwards to know so well, impressed not only upon his face but also upon the awkwardness of his arms that hung stiffly at his side, upon the baggy looseness of his trousers at the knees, the unfastened straps of his long black military boots. His face, with its mild blue eyes, straggly fair moustache, expressed anxiety and pride, timidity and happiness, apprehension and confidence. ”

“ Harkness was crushed in upon his enormous friend so completely that he had no other impression for the moment but of a vast expanse of heaving, leaping, corduroy waistcoat, of a hard brass button in his eye, and of himself clutching with both hands to a shiny trouser that must hold himself from falling. But they were off indeed! Four of them now in a row and the song was swinging fine and strong. One—two—three, one—two—three. Forward bend, one leg in air, backward bend, t'other leg in air, forward bend again, down the market-place and round the corner voices raised in one tremendous song. ”

“ His legs might shake, his body lurch from side to side, his breath come in agitating gasps and whistles; the wall was now far behind him, the screen most wonderfully near, the rocking-chair almost within his grasp. Great and mighty is Ernest Henry Wilberforce, dazzling and again dazzling the lighted avenues opening now before him; there is nothing, nothing, from the rendings of the toys to the deliberate defiance of his nurse and all those in authority over him, that he shall not now perform.... ”

“ Not to confuse fiction with fact: Hugh Walpole was educated at Kings School, Canterbury, and at Emmanuel College, Cambridge. When he left the university he drifted into newspaper work in London. He also had a brief experience as master in a boys’ school (the experiential-imaginative source of The Gods and Mr. Perrin, that superb novel of underpaid teachers in a second-rate boarding school) . The war brought Red Cross work in Russia and also a mission to Petrograd to promote pro-Ally sentiment. ”

“ Even as the strokes sounded in the air the wide doors of the Town Hall unfolded and a tall stout man, dressed in the cocked hat and the cape and cloak of a Dickensian beadle, appeared. Flaming red they were, and very fine and important he looked as he stood there on the steps, his legs spread, holding his gold staff in his hands. He was attended by several other gentlemen who looked down with benignant approval upon the crowd, and by a drum, a trumpet, and a flute, these last being instruments rather than men. ”

“ He was alone; he must fight for his own hand. He would—from that moment, seated there beneath the window, Ernest Henry Wilberforce challenged the terrors of this world, and found them sawdust—he would say "damn" as often as he pleased. "Damn, damn, damn, damn," he whispered, and marked again, with meditative eye, the space from wall to screen.
After this, greatly cheered, he bethought him of the Square. Last night his friend had said to him that when he wished to think of him, and go back for a time to the other world, a peep into the Square would assist him. ”

“ There was something that, in spite of herself, reminded her both of Uncle Mathew and Martin. She felt a sudden and warm kinship, something that she had not known since her arrival in Skeaton. Had she not struggled with herself every kind of reminiscence of her London life would have come crowding about her. This meeting was like the first little warning tap upon the wall ...
On her return she spoke of it.
"Oh," said Paul, "that must have been poor little Mr. Toms with his sister."
"Poor?" asked Maggie.
"Yes. He's queer in his head, you know," said Paul. ”

“ As a whole, Hugh Walpole’s novels maintain an impressive unity of expression; they are the distinguished presentation of a distinguished mind. Singly and in a group, they hold possibilities of infinite development. ”

“ He is distinctly a man of his time; and it is just because of that modernity, informed by a sane judgment of urgent problems and wide and deep sympathy with all mankind, that we look forward hopefully to the growth and increased importance of his work. In his style, so level, so consistent, Mr. Hugh Walpole does not seek so much for novel as for individual expression; and this search, this 29 ambition so natural to an artist, is often rewarded by success. Old and young interest him alike and he treats both with a sure touch and in the kindest manner. ”

“ Very few of the people seemed to be listening to him; but he talked on, waving the book in his hand, standing out sharply against the shining tower at his back.
Words came to them: “To-morrow it will be too late. I tell you, my friends, that it is now and now only that . . . And the door was shut . . . We cannot choose . . .”
But the drum was in the Square. Standing on the steps of the Town Hall, clothed in his official red, the Town Clerk, a short, pompous man, saluted the fair. No words could penetrate the confusion, but people began to gather round him shouting and singing. ”

“ He was an odd enough creature in that room, and that, she was aware, pleased her.
"Well, my dear," he said very genially, as though they met again after an hour's parting, "how are you? I'm very glad to see you—looking so well too. And quite smart. Your aunts dressed you up. I thought I must look at you. I'm staying just round the corner, and my first thought was 'I wonder how she's getting on in all that tom-foolery. You bet she's keeping her head.' And so you are. One can see at a glance."
She went up to him, kissed him, and smelt whisky and some scent that had geraniums in it. ”

“ Throughout the book is marked by a penetrating knowledge of humanity, so that it brings one continually into touch with real people and real human crises."--The Continent.
"Mr. Hugh Walpole has the faculty of infusing vibrant life into his characters in fiction, and in Fortitude he presents one of the strongest and best novels of the season."--The Baltimore Sun.
"The people here are as real as life. The theme is big. The movement is controlled and steady, a leisurely movement, as stories that deal with character rather than action must be. ”

“ Her confidence in him that, at other times, frightened him, to-night thrilled him with a delicious pleasure. His old distrust of himself yielded, to-night, to a fine, determined assurance. “I will be all that she thinks I am. She shall see how I love her. They shall all see.”
“I think we’ll go down into the Grill Room,” said Philip, when they arrived at the Carlton. “We can talk better there.”
It was all the same to Henry, who was busy feasting with the Pirate upon the Adriatic Island, with the Princess dancing for them on the golden sand. ”

“ The more you live in your head, dreaming and seeing things that aren't there, the less you'll see the things that are there. You'll always be tumbling over things. You'll never get on. You'll never be a success."
"Never mind," said Hugh, "it doesn't matter much what you say now, you're only talking 'for my good' like Mr. Lasher. I don't care, I heard what you said yesterday, and it's made all the difference. I'll come and stay with you."
"Well, so you shall," said Mr. Pidgen. "I can't help it. You shall come as often as you like. Upon my soul, I'm younger to-day than I've felt for a long time. ”

“ Hugh Walpole is probably as near to being a typical Englishman as [Pg 296] any man can be, and of his dozen other novels, “The Golden Scarecrow” and “Jeremy” show how wonderfully he can enter into the minds of children, and the rest are stories of lower-middle, middle and higher English society in town and country. ”

“ You're looking tired, Robin, old boy. Have you been sleeping on the floor, too?"
"No!" He looked up and smiled. "But I was awake a good bit. The house is different somehow, when——"
"Oh yes, I know. One feels it, of course. But eating's much the best thing for keeping one's spirits up. I suppose Harry is coming down. Just find out from Benham, will you, Wilder, whether Mr. Henry is coming down?"
The footman left the room, returning in a moment with the answer that Mr. Henry was about to come down.
Garrett moved to the door, but Clare stopped him. ”

“ Walpole is steadily, perhaps unconsciously, entering the profounder darkness. It is a march practically condemned to failure at the start; but, not only unavoidable, it is the only attempt worth consideration. Not a happy fate, God knows, to leave everything that the world, that people, most applaud; there is no possibility of mistake about the latter--the beauty that is truth is not popular in a society which, blind to its transitory and feeble condition, must see itself as the rulers of creation. ”

“ He tried to drive down his fancies and to control his body. That was his trouble—that every limb, every nerve, every muscle, seemed to be asserting its own independent life. His legs now—they belonged to him, but never would you have supposed it. His arms tugged away from him as though striving to be free. He was not trained for this kind of thing—a cultured American gentleman with two sisters who read papers to women's clubs in Oregon.
He beat down his imagination. He had been crawling on his hands and his knees, and now he put out one hand and touched space. ”

“ Then suddenly the Signor darted forward: “Oh, Mrs. Lazarus I must introduce you to Madame's new guest, Mr. Westcott.”
“How do you do?” the old lady chirruped, “Oh! but my fingers are all over orange—never mind, we'll smile at one another. I hope you'll like the place, I'm sure, I always have an orange before dinner. They've got used to me, you know. We've all got our little habits.”
Peter did not know what to say, and was wondering whether he ought to relieve the old lady of her orange peel (at which she was gazing rather helplessly) , when a bell rang and Florence appeared at the door. ”

“ Philip, are you happy?”
“Happy?” ... Ah! she could feel his body quiver.
“Yes, and now we’re coming down to the Well. There’s a little wood just at the body of the hill. We always call it the Well because it’s so dark and green. It’s the most famous wood for primroses in all Glebeshire. They’ll be coming now.... We’ll walk here.... I cried once because I thought I was lost here. They forgot me and went home. Then I was comforted by the postman, who found me and carried me home.... Jacob, do you remember?” ”

“ A cavernous hall, a young girl with untidy hair and a yelping dog received them.
"That's Mitch!" said Paul. "Dear old Mitch. How are you, dear old fellow? Down Mitch! Down! There's a good dog."
The young girl was terrified of Maggie. She gulped through her nose.
"I've put tea in the study, sir," she said.
"Tea at once, little woman, eh?" said Paul. "I'm dying for some. Thank you, Emily. All well? That's right. Dear, dear, It IS nice to be home again." ”

“ Such a large fat man as he is now. Too much beer, I suppose. I suppose they get so thirsty with all the straw and hay about. Yes, a really nice woman. She told me that there was no place in Glebeshire to touch them for cream. I dare say they're right. After all, you never can tell. I remember at home...”
She broke off then and cried: “Where's Hamlet?”
Mary, wickeder than ever, stared through her spectacles down the road. “I don't know, Miss Jones,” she said. They had left the wood and the farm, and there was nothing to be seen but the long white ribbon of road hemmed in by the high hedges. ”

“ Walpole possesses almost entirely the qualities which seem to me the base, the absolute foundation, of a beauty without which creative writing is empty. In him, to become as specific as possible, there is splendidly joined the consciousness of both the inner and outer worlds. ”

“ In The Green Mirror Hugh Walpole shows his masterly skill in building up a really dramatic novel out of plot material that is almost without action. His crises are always crises of feeling and no one equals Mr. ”

“ Peter pressed forwards to the door. And at once he was answered. Men were running past the shop, crying out; one stopped for an instant and, wild with excitement, his hands gesticulating, stammering, the words tumbling from his lips, he shouted at them—“They've bin flinging bombs . . . dirty foreigners . . . up there by the Marble Arch—flinging them at the Old Lady. But it's all right, by Gawd—only blew 'imself up, dirty foreigner—little bits of 'im and no one else 'urt and now the Old Lady's comin' down the street—she'll be 'ere in quarter of an 'our and won't we show 'er . . . by Gawd . ”

“ I would point out to you two gentlemen that, as one of you has already discovered, any sort of resistance is quite useless. We will go upstairs. One of my servants first—you two gentlemen next, my other servant following, then my daughter-in-law and myself. Please, gentlemen."
He said something in a foreign tongue. One Japanese started upstairs, Harkness and Dunbar followed. There was nothing else at that moment to be done. Only at the top of the stairs Dunbar turned and cried: "Buck up, Hesther. It will be all right." ”