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Updated: June 23, 2025
It was over the chess-board that they first began to discover their extensive difficulties of sympathy. Mr. Britling's play was characterised by a superficial brilliance, much generosity and extreme unsoundness; he always moved directly his opponent had done so and then reflected on the situation. His reflection was commonly much wiser than his moves. Mrs.
Wells himself, talking this time on a supremely interesting topic, and often talking extraordinarily well. There are no more brilliant pages, of their kind, in modern literature than the pages describing Mr. Britling's motor-drive on the night of the declaration of war. They compare with the description of the Thames in Tono-Bungay.
Britling's eyes. "Yes?" he said. "I do not think it will be wise to take my ticket for the Esperanto Conference at Boulogne. Because I think it is probable to be war between Austria and Servia, and that Russia may make war on Austria." "That may happen. But I think it improbable." "If Russia makes war on Austria, Germany will make war on Russia, will she not?" "Not if she is wise," said Mr.
After that she was silent for some minutes, and took no notice of his whispers. Then she recollected what had been in her mind. She put out a hand that sought for Mr. Britling's sleeve. "Hughie!" "I'm here, Auntie," said Mr. Britling. "I'm here." "Don't let him get at your Hughie.... Too good for it, dear.
Britling's sense of the magnitude, the weight and duration of this war beyond all wars, increased steadily. The feel of it was less and less a feeling of crisis and more and more a feeling of new conditions. It wasn't as it had seemed at first, the end of one human phase and the beginning of another; it was in itself a phase. It was a new way of living.
Hugh thought for himself; he thought round and through his position, not egotistically but with a quality of responsibility. He wasn't just hero-worshipping and imitating, just spinning some self-centred romance. If he was a fair sample of his generation then it was a better generation than Mr. Britling's had been.... At that Mr.
He supposed a large number of people would just go on buying and selling at or near the old prices by force of habit. His mind and conscience made a valiant attempt to pick up "And Now War Ends" and go on with it, but before five minutes were out he was back at the thoughts of food panic and bankruptcy.... Section 5 The conflict of interests at Mr. Britling's desk became unendurable.
All that mental growth no doubt contributed greatly to Mr. Britling's peculiar affection, and with it there interwove still tenderer and subtler elements, for the boy had a score of Mary's traits. But there were other things still more conspicuously ignored. One silent factor in the slow widening of the breach between Edith and Mr. Britling was her cool estimate of her stepson.
A momentary vision danced before Mr. Britling's eyes of red flannel petticoats being torn up in a rapid improvisation of soldiers to resist a sudden invasion. Passing washerwomen suddenly requisitioned. But one must not let oneself be laughed out of good intentions because of ridiculous accessories. The idea at any rate was the sound one....
The imminence of war produced a peculiar exaltation in Aunt Wilshire. She developed a point of view that was entirely her own. It was Mr. Britling's habit, a habit he had set himself to acquire after much irritating experience, to disregard Aunt Wilshire.
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