Chapter XIV

by Virginia Woolf

　　Mr. Clacton was in his glory. The machinery which he had perfected andcontrolled was now about to turn out its bi-monthly product, acommittee meeting; and his pride in the perfect structure of theseassemblies was great. He loved the jargon of committee-rooms; he lovedthe way in which the door kept opening as the clock struck the hour,in obedience to a few strokes of his pen on a piece of paper; and whenit had opened sufficiently often, he loved to issue from his innerchamber with documents in his hands, visibly important, with apreoccupied expression on his face that might have suited a PrimeMinister advancing to meet his Cabinet. By his orders the table hadbeen decorated beforehand with six sheets of blotting-paper, with sixpens, six ink-pots, a tumbler and a jug of water, a bell, and, indeference to the taste of the lady members, a vase of hardychrysanthemums. He had already surreptitiously straightened the sheetsof blotting-paper in relation to the ink-pots, and now stood in frontof the fire engaged in conversation with Miss Markham. But his eye wason the door, and when Mary and Mrs. Seal entered, he gave a littlelaugh and observed to the assembly which was scattered about the room:"I fancy, ladies and gentlemen, that we are ready to commence."So speaking, he took his seat at the head of the table, and arrangingone bundle of papers upon his right and another upon his left, calledupon Miss Datchet to read the minutes of the previous meeting. Maryobeyed. A keen observer might have wondered why it was necessary forthe secretary to knit her brows so closely over the tolerablymatter-of-fact statement before her. Could there be any doubt in hermind that it had been resolved to circularize the provinces withLeaflet No. 3, or to issue a statistical diagram showing theproportion of married women to spinsters in New Zealand; or that thenet profits of Mrs. Hipsley's Bazaar had reached a total of fivepounds eight shillings and twopence half-penny?Could any doubt as to the perfect sense and propriety of thesestatements be disturbing her? No one could have guessed, from the lookof her, that she was disturbed at all. A pleasanter and saner womanthan Mary Datchet was never seen within a committee-room. She seemed acompound of the autumn leaves and the winter sunshine; less poeticallyspeaking, she showed both gentleness and strength, an indefinablepromise of soft maternity blending with her evident fitness for honestlabor. Nevertheless, she had great difficulty in reducing her mind toobedience; and her reading lacked conviction, as if, as was indeed thecase, she had lost the power of visualizing what she read. Anddirectly the list was completed, her mind floated to Lincoln's InnFields and the fluttering wings of innumerable sparrows. Was Ralphstill enticing the bald-headed cock-sparrow to sit upon his hand? Hadhe succeeded? Would he ever succeed? She had meant to ask him why itis that the sparrows in Lincoln's Inn Fields are tamer than thesparrows in Hyde Park--perhaps it is that the passers-by are rarer,and they come to recognize their benefactors. For the first half-hourof the committee meeting, Mary had thus to do battle with theskeptical presence of Ralph Denham, who threatened to have it all hisown way. Mary tried half a dozen methods of ousting him. She raisedher voice, she articulated distinctly, she looked firmly at Mr.Clacton's bald head, she began to write a note. To her annoyance, herpencil drew a little round figure on the blotting-paper, which, shecould not deny, was really a bald-headed cock-sparrow. She lookedagain at Mr. Clacton; yes, he was bald, and so are cock-sparrows.Never was a secretary tormented by so many unsuitable suggestions, andthey all came, alas! with something ludicrously grotesque about them,which might, at any moment, provoke her to such flippancy as wouldshock her colleagues for ever. The thought of what she might say madeher bite her lips, as if her lips would protect her.But all these suggestions were but flotsam and jetsam cast to thesurface by a more profound disturbance, which, as she could notconsider it at present, manifested its existence by these grotesquenods and beckonings. Consider it, she must, when the committee wasover. Meanwhile, she was behaving scandalously; she was looking out ofthe window, and thinking of the color of the sky, and of thedecorations on the Imperial Hotel, when she ought to have beenshepherding her colleagues, and pinning them down to the matter inhand. She could not bring herself to attach more weight to one projectthan to another. Ralph had said--she could not stop to consider whathe had said, but he had somehow divested the proceedings of allreality. And then, without conscious effort, by some trick of thebrain, she found herself becoming interested in some scheme fororganizing a newspaper campaign. Certain articles were to be written;certain editors approached. What line was it advisable to take? Shefound herself strongly disapproving of what Mr. Clacton was saying.She committed herself to the opinion that now was the time to strikehard. Directly she had said this, she felt that she had turned uponRalph's ghost; and she became more and more in earnest, and anxious tobring the others round to her point of view. Once more, she knewexactly and indisputably what is right and what is wrong. As ifemerging from a mist, the old foes of the public good loomed ahead ofher--capitalists, newspaper proprietors, anti-suffragists, and, insome ways most pernicious of all, the masses who take no interest oneway or another--among whom, for the time being, she certainlydiscerned the features of Ralph Denham. Indeed, when Miss Markhamasked her to suggest the names of a few friends of hers, she expressedherself with unusual bitterness:"My friends think all this kind of thing useless." She felt that shewas really saying that to Ralph himself."Oh, they're that sort, are they?" said Miss Markham, with a littlelaugh; and with renewed vigor their legions charged the foe.Mary's spirits had been low when she entered the committee-room; butnow they were considerably improved. She knew the ways of this world;it was a shapely, orderly place; she felt convinced of its right andits wrong; and the feeling that she was fit to deal a heavy blowagainst her enemies warmed her heart and kindled her eye. In one ofthose flights of fancy, not characteristic of her but tiresomelyfrequent this afternoon, she envisaged herself battered with rotteneggs upon a platform, from which Ralph vainly begged her to descend.But--"What do I matter compared with the cause?" she said, and so on. Muchto her credit, however teased by foolish fancies, she kept the surfaceof her brain moderate and vigilant, and subdued Mrs. Seal verytactfully more than once when she demanded, "Actionatonce!" as became her father's daughter.The other members of the committee, who were all rather elderlypeople, were a good deal impressed by Mary, and inclined to side withher and against each other, partly, perhaps, because of her youth. Thefeeling that she controlled them all filled Mary with a sense ofpower; and she felt that no work can equal in importance, or be soexciting as, the work of making other people do what you want them todo. Indeed, when she had won her point she felt a slight degree ofcontempt for the people who had yielded to her.The committee now rose, gathered together their papers, shook themstraight, placed them in their attache-cases, snapped the locks firmlytogether, and hurried away, having, for the most part, to catchtrains, in order to keep other appointments with other committees, forthey were all busy people. Mary, Mrs. Seal, and Mr. Clacton were leftalone; the room was hot and untidy, the pieces of pink blotting-paperwere lying at different angles upon the table, and the tumbler washalf full of water, which some one had poured out and forgotten todrink.Mrs. Seal began preparing the tea, while Mr. Clacton retired to hisroom to file the fresh accumulation of documents. Mary was too muchexcited even to help Mrs. Seal with the cups and saucers. She flung upthe window and stood by it, looking out. The street lamps were alreadylit; and through the mist in the square one could see little figureshurrying across the road and along the pavement, on the farther side.In her absurd mood of lustful arrogance, Mary looked at the littlefigures and thought, "If I liked I could make you go in there or stopshort; I could make you walk in single file or in double file; I coulddo what I liked with you." Then Mrs. Seal came and stood by her."Oughtn't you to put something round your shoulders, Sally?" Maryasked, in rather a condescending tone of voice, feeling a sort of pityfor the enthusiastic ineffective little woman. But Mrs. Seal paid noattention to the suggestion."Well, did you enjoy yourself?" Mary asked, with a little laugh.Mrs. Seal drew a deep breath, restrained herself, and then burstout, looking out, too, upon Russell Square and Southampton Row, andat the passers-by, "Ah, if only one could get every one of thosepeople into this room, and make them understand for five minutes!But they must see the truth some day. . . . If only one could makethem see it. . . ."Mary knew herself to be very much wiser than Mrs. Seal, and when Mrs.Seal said anything, even if it was what Mary herself was feeling, sheautomatically thought of all that there was to be said against it. Onthis occasion her arrogant feeling that she could direct everybodydwindled away."Let's have our tea," she said, turning back from the window andpulling down the blind. "It was a good meeting--didn't you think so,Sally?" she let fall, casually, as she sat down at the table. SurelyMrs. Seal must realize that Mary had been extraordinarily efficient?"But we go at such a snail's pace," said Sally, shaking her headimpatiently.At this Mary burst out laughing, and all her arrogance was dissipated."You can afford to laugh," said Sally, with another shake of her head,"but I can't. I'm fifty-five, and I dare say I shall be in my grave bythe time we get it--if we ever do.""Oh, no, you won't be in your grave," said Mary, kindly."It'll be such a great day," said Mrs. Seal, with a toss of her locks."A great day, not only for us, but for civilization. That's what Ifeel, you know, about these meetings. Each one of them is a steponwards in the great march--humanity, you know. We do want the peopleafter us to have a better time of it--and so many don't see it. Iwonder how it is that they don't see it?"She was carrying plates and cups from the cupboard as she spoke, sothat her sentences were more than usually broken apart. Mary could nothelp looking at the odd little priestess of humanity with somethinglike admiration. While she had been thinking about herself, Mrs. Sealhad thought of nothing but her vision."You mustn't wear yourself out, Sally, if you want to see the greatday," she said, rising and trying to take a plate of biscuits fromMrs. Seal's hands."My dear child, what else is my old body good for?" she exclaimed,clinging more tightly than before to her plate of biscuits. "Shouldn'tI be proud to give everything I have to the cause?--for I'm not anintelligence like you. There were domestic circumstances--I'd like totell you one of these days--so I say foolish things. I lose my head,you know. You don't. Mr. Clacton doesn't. It's a great mistake, tolose one's head. But my heart's in the right place. And I'm so gladKit has a big dog, for I didn't think her looking well."They had their tea, and went over many of the points that had beenraised in the committee rather more intimately than had been possiblethen; and they all felt an agreeable sense of being in some way behindthe scenes; of having their hands upon strings which, when pulled,would completely change the pageant exhibited daily to those who readthe newspapers. Although their views were very different, this senseunited them and made them almost cordial in their manners to eachother.Mary, however, left the tea-party rather early, desiring both to bealone, and then to hear some music at the Queen's Hall. She fullyintended to use her loneliness to think out her position with regardto Ralph; but although she walked back to the Strand with this end inview, she found her mind uncomfortably full of different trains ofthought. She started one and then another. They seemed even to taketheir color from the street she happened to be in. Thus the vision ofhumanity appeared to be in some way connected with Bloomsbury, andfaded distinctly by the time she crossed the main road; then a belatedorgan-grinder in Holborn set her thoughts dancing incongruously; andby the time she was crossing the great misty square of Lincoln's InnFields, she was cold and depressed again, and horribly clear-sighted.The dark removed the stimulus of human companionship, and a tearactually slid down her cheek, accompanying a sudden conviction withinher that she loved Ralph, and that he didn't love her. All dark andempty now was the path where they had walked that morning, and thesparrows silent in the bare trees. But the lights in her own buildingsoon cheered her; all these different states of mind were submerged inthe deep flood of desires, thoughts, perceptions, antagonisms, whichwashed perpetually at the base of her being, to rise into prominencein turn when the conditions of the upper world were favorable. She putoff the hour of clear thought until Christmas, saying to herself, asshe lit her fire, that it is impossible to think anything out inLondon; and, no doubt, Ralph wouldn't come at Christmas, and she wouldtake long walks into the heart of the country, and decide thisquestion and all the others that puzzled her. Meanwhile, she thought,drawing her feet up on to the fender, life was full of complexity;life was a thing one must love to the last fiber of it.She had sat there for five minutes or so, and her thoughts had hadtime to grow dim, when there came a ring at her bell. Her eyebrightened; she felt immediately convinced that Ralph had come tovisit her. Accordingly, she waited a moment before opening the door;she wanted to feel her hands secure upon the reins of all thetroublesome emotions which the sight of Ralph would certainly arouse.She composed herself unnecessarily, however, for she had to admit, notRalph, but Katharine and William Rodney. Her first impression was thatthey were both extremely well dressed. She felt herself shabby andslovenly beside them, and did not know how she should entertain them,nor could she guess why they had come. She had heard nothing of theirengagement. But after the first disappointment, she was pleased, forshe felt instantly that Katharine was a personality, and, moreover,she need not now exercise her self-control."We were passing and saw a light in your window, so we came up,"Katharine explained, standing and looking very tall and distinguishedand rather absent-minded."We have been to see some pictures," said William. "Oh, dear," heexclaimed, looking about him, "this room reminds me of one of theworst hours in my existence--when I read a paper, and you all satround and jeered at me. Katharine was the worst. I could feel hergloating over every mistake I made. Miss Datchet was kind. MissDatchet just made it possible for me to get through, I remember."Sitting down, he drew off his light yellow gloves, and began slappinghis knees with them. His vitality was pleasant, Mary thought, althoughhe made her laugh. The very look of him was inclined to make herlaugh. His rather prominent eyes passed from one young woman to theother, and his lips perpetually formed words which remained unspoken."We have been seeing old masters at the Grafton Gallery," saidKatharine, apparently paying no attention to William, and accepting acigarette which Mary offered her. She leant back in her chair, and thesmoke which hung about her face seemed to withdraw her still furtherfrom the others."Would you believe it, Miss Datchet," William continued, "Katharinedoesn't like Titian. She doesn't like apricots, she doesn't likepeaches, she doesn't like green peas. She likes the Elgin marbles, andgray days without any sun. She's a typical example of the coldnorthern nature. I come from Devonshire--"Had they been quarreling, Mary wondered, and had they, for thatreason, sought refuge in her room, or were they engaged, or hadKatharine just refused him? She was completely baffled.Katharine now reappeared from her veil of smoke, knocked the ash fromher cigarette into the fireplace, and looked, with an odd expressionof solicitude, at the irritable man."Perhaps, Mary," she said tentatively, "you wouldn't mind giving ussome tea? We did try to get some, but the shop was so crowded, and inthe next one there was a band playing; and most of the pictures, atany rate, were very dull, whatever you may say, William." She spokewith a kind of guarded gentleness.Mary, accordingly, retired to make preparations in the pantry."What in the world are they after?" she asked of her own reflection inthe little looking-glass which hung there. She was not left to doubtmuch longer, for, on coming back into the sitting-room with the tea-things, Katharine informed her, apparently having been instructed soto do by William, of their engagement."William," she said, "thinks that perhaps you don't know. We are goingto be married."Mary found herself shaking William's hand, and addressing hercongratulations to him, as if Katharine were inaccessible; she had,indeed, taken hold of the tea-kettle."Let me see," Katharine said, "one puts hot water into the cups first,doesn't one? You have some dodge of your own, haven't you, William,about making tea?"Mary was half inclined to suspect that this was said in order toconceal nervousness, but if so, the concealment was unusually perfect.Talk of marriage was dismissed. Katharine might have been seated inher own drawing-room, controlling a situation which presented no sortof difficulty to her trained mind. Rather to her surprise, Mary foundherself making conversation with William about old Italian pictures,while Katharine poured out tea, cut cake, kept William's platesupplied, without joining more than was necessary in the conversation.She seemed to have taken possession of Mary's room, and to handle thecups as if they belonged to her. But it was done so naturally that itbred no resentment in Mary; on the contrary, she found herself puttingher hand on Katharine's knee, affectionately, for an instant. Wasthere something maternal in this assumption of control? And thinkingof Katharine as one who would soon be married, these maternal airsfilled Mary's mind with a new tenderness, and even with awe. Katharineseemed very much older and more experienced than she was.Meanwhile Rodney talked. If his appearance was superficially againsthim, it had the advantage of making his solid merits something of asurprise. He had kept notebooks; he knew a great deal about pictures.He could compare different examples in different galleries, and hisauthoritative answers to intelligent questions gained not a little,Mary felt, from the smart taps which he dealt, as he delivered them,upon the lumps of coal. She was impressed."Your tea, William," said Katharine gently.He paused, gulped it down, obediently, and continued.And then it struck Mary that Katharine, in the shade of herbroad-brimmed hat, and in the midst of the smoke, and in the obscurityof her character, was, perhaps, smiling to herself, not altogether inthe maternal spirit. What she said was very simple, but her words,even "Your tea, William," were set down as gently and cautiously andexactly as the feet of a Persian cat stepping among China ornaments.For the second time that day Mary felt herself baffled by somethinginscrutable in the character of a person to whom she felt herself muchattracted. She thought that if she were engaged to Katharine, she,too, would find herself very soon using those fretful questions withwhich William evidently teased his bride. And yet Katharine's voicewas humble."I wonder how you find the time to know all about pictures as well asbooks?" she asked."How do I find the time?" William answered, delighted, Mary guessed,at this little compliment. "Why, I always travel with a notebook. AndI ask my way to the picture gallery the very first thing in themorning. And then I meet men, and talk to them. There's a man in myoffice who knows all about the Flemish school. I was telling MissDatchet about the Flemish school. I picked up a lot of it from him--it's a way men have--Gibbons, his name is. You must meet him. We'llask him to lunch. And this not caring about art," he explained,turning to Mary, "it's one of Katharine's poses, Miss Datchet. Did youknow she posed? She pretends that she's never read Shakespeare. Andwhy should she read Shakespeare, since she is Shakespeare--Rosalind,you know," and he gave his queer little chuckle. Somehow thiscompliment appeared very old-fashioned and almost in bad taste. Maryactually felt herself blush, as if he had said "the sex" or "theladies." Constrained, perhaps, by nervousness, Rodney continued in thesame vein."She knows enough--enough for all decent purposes. What do you womenwant with learning, when you have so much else--everything, I shouldsay--everything. Leave us something, eh, Katharine?""Leave you something?" said Katharine, apparently waking from a brownstudy. "I was thinking we must be going--""Is it to-night that Lady Ferrilby dines with us? No, we mustn't belate," said Rodney, rising. "D'you know the Ferrilbys, Miss Datchet?They own Trantem Abbey," he added, for her information, as she lookeddoubtful. "And if Katharine makes herself very charming to-night,perhaps'll lend it to us for the honeymoon.""I agree that may be a reason. Otherwise she's a dull woman," saidKatharine. "At least," she added, as if to qualify her abruptness, "Ifind it difficult to talk to her.""Because you expect every one else to take all the trouble. I've seenher sit silent a whole evening," he said, turning to Mary, as he hadfrequently done already. "Don't you find that, too? Sometimes whenwe're alone, I've counted the time on my watch"--here he took out alarge gold watch, and tapped the glass--"the time between one remarkand the next. And once I counted ten minutes and twenty seconds, andthen, if you'll believe me, she only said 'Um!'""I'm sure I'm sorry," Katharine apologized. "I know it's a bad habit,but then, you see, at home--"The rest of her excuse was cut short, so far as Mary was concerned, bythe closing of the door. She fancied she could hear William findingfresh fault on the stairs. A moment later, the door-bell rang again,and Katharine reappeared, having left her purse on a chair. She soonfound it, and said, pausing for a moment at the door, and speakingdifferently as they were alone:"I think being engaged is very bad for the character." She shook herpurse in her hand until the coins jingled, as if she alluded merely tothis example of her forgetfulness. But the remark puzzled Mary; itseemed to refer to something else; and her manner had changed sostrangely, now that William was out of hearing, that she could nothelp looking at her for an explanation. She looked almost stern, sothat Mary, trying to smile at her, only succeeded in producing asilent stare of interrogation.As the door shut for the second time, she sank on to the floor infront of the fire, trying, now that their bodies were not there todistract her, to piece together her impressions of them as a whole.And, though priding herself, with all other men and women, upon aninfallible eye for character, she could not feel at all certain thatshe knew what motives inspired Katharine Hilbery in life. There wassomething that carried her on smoothly, out of reach--something, yes,but what?--something that reminded Mary of Ralph. Oddly enough, hegave her the same feeling, too, and with him, too, she felt baffled.Oddly enough, for no two people, she hastily concluded, were moreunlike. And yet both had this hidden impulse, this incalculable force--this thing they cared for and didn't talk about--oh, what was it?