400 – Decline and Fall
48:00 Share

This episode of Sleepy is proudly sponsored by OneSkin. As the seasons change, so do your skin's needs. Shifts in the weather can leave your skin feeling irritated, tight, and dry, especially if you have sensitive skin, like me, or conditions like eczema. But what if your skincare routine could help calm your skin and reverse the signs of cellular aging at the same time?

Enter OneSkin, an incredible skincare product that I personally love. Especially in these late winter months when my skin is extra dry, it feels and smells amazing and has become a part of my morning routine. It's such a relief. And OneSkin is founded by an all-women team of scientists, and their proprietary OS01 peptide is the first ingredient of its kind to reverse skin's biological age.

So whether you have seasonal sensitivity or year-round irritation, OneSkin soothes and calms your skin while helping it become younger and healthier at the cellular level. For a limited time, you can get 15% off with code SLEEPY at OneSkin.co. That's 15% off at OneSkin.co with code SLEEPY. And after you purchase, they'll ask where you heard about them. Please support Sleepy and tell them we sent you.

Invest in the health and longevity of your skin with OneSkin. Your future self will thank you. I'll have a link for this in the show notes. Thanks. This episode of Sleepy is proudly sponsored by Shopify. If you're listening to this show and you're like me, you really prioritize a healthy lifestyle. You go out of your way to streamline your day-to-day, your money, your exercise, your morning habits, all so you can be lucid and just get to the business of living your life.

And if you actually have a business, Shopify is one of those tools that after you have it, you cannot imagine life without it. It is the business behind the business and it simply helps you run your life more smoothly. Nobody does selling better than Shopify. It is the number one checkout on the planet. Their shop pay features boost conversions to 50%, meaning way less left in the cart and more sales for you.

and it's a perfect partner no matter what stage your business is in. Businesses that sell more sell on Shopify. So upgrade your business and get the same checkout as some of the most successful companies in the world. Sign up for your $1 per month trial period at shopify.com slash otis, all lowercase. Go to shopify.com slash otis to upgrade your selling today. Shopify.com slash otis.

I'll have a link for this in the description of the show. Thanks. Hey, my name's Otis Gray and you're listening to the 400th episode of Sleepy, a podcast where I read old books to help you get to sleep. 400 episodes. Wow. That's a lot of, uh, that is a lot of bedtime content. It's amazing to have been around this long and still have you listening. It's, uh, yeah, this is really incredible.

As I record from my little closet in Brooklyn, it's, um, yeah, I'm just very grateful to be able to be doing this as long as I have and continuing to give you the hopefully much needed rest that you deserve. So I guess if you've been listening since the beginning, thank you. And if you're new to the show, welcome. We've got a lot of bedtime stories for you and only more to come.

And tonight I'm going to be bringing you a story from an author we've never read on the show. It's a book that came into the public domain in the last few years. I think you're going to love it. And before we do that, I would love to personally thank all of our brand new supporters on Patreon.com, which is a website where you can go and pledge a couple bucks for an ad-free version of Sleepy. So this week's wonderful new patrons, Sarah, Jill Leaning, Christy Dupuis,

Les Person, Lisa Black, Michelle Hawkins, and Marianne Kearney-Brown. Thank you all so, so much for being a part of making this show. It really, really, really means a lot. And if you don't know, all these new supporters, they are just some of many, many, many people who have taken the time to give back to Sleepy with a dollar or two dollars a month. And it means so, so much.

You also get cool perks in exchange for being a part of making this show. At $1, I give you a shout-out on the show. At $2, you get access to the ad-free version. $5 is the poetry feed with all kinds of episodes you have not heard before. But no matter how much you donate, it just means so much. So if you do want to be a part of making this show, because maybe it helps you get a better night's rest,

then you can go to patreon.com/sleepyradio and donate even a dollar. It takes a second and it really means so much. So again, that's patreon.com/sleepyradio. Thank you. And as always, the music you're hearing is by my good friend James Lepkowski and the cover art for Sleepy is by Gracie Kainan. So again, it's just incredible that we're at 400 episodes

And, uh, yeah, this episode is not going to be substantially different than any others because I am just so happy to keep doing this twice a week for as long as I possibly can. I know I'll never run out of bedtime stories to read, and hopefully you will always need a bedtime companion. I hope I can keep being that for you. So tonight I'm going to be reading from an author we have not heard on the show, Evelyn Waugh. I believe that's how you say her last name. And, um,

This is kind of a nice novel. Feels a little bit like non-fiction Harry Potter-ish in a way. Anyway, it's called Decline and Fall. Maybe you've heard of it. It just entered the public domain in the last few years. It was published in the 20s. And yeah, it's a great little story. It's really well written. It was lovely to read out loud. So I hope you like it. Without further ado, this is Decline and Fall for you to go to sleep to.

A novel by Evelyn Waugh. And now is the time for you to fluff up your pillow just how you like it. Feel yourself melt into your bed. Get real comfortable. Close your eyes and let me read to you. Chapter 1. Vocatia. Set down for indecent behavior, eh? Said Paul Pennyfeather's garden. Well, thank God your poor father has been spared this disgrace. That's all I can say.

There was a hush in Onslow Square, unbroken except by Paul's guardian's daughter's gramophone, playing Gilbert and Sullivan in her little pink boudoir at the top of the stairs. "'My daughter must know nothing of this,' continued Paul's guardian. There was another pause. "'Well,' he resumed, "'you know the terms of your father's will. He left the sum of five thousand pounds, the interest of which was to be devoted to your education.'

and the sum to be absolutely yours on your twenty-first birthday. That, if I am right, falls in eleven months' time, in the event of your education being finished before that time. He left me with complete discretion to withhold this allowance should I not consider your course of life satisfactory. I do not think that I should be fulfilling the trust which your poor father placed in me, if, in the present circumstances, I continued any allowance."

Moreover, you'll be the first to realize how impossible it would be for me to ask you to share the same home with my daughter. But what is to happen to me, said Paul. I think you ought to find some work, said his guardian thoughtfully. Nothing like it for taking the mind off nasty subjects. What kind of work? Just work. Good, healthy toil. You have led too sheltered a life, Paul. Perhaps I am to blame. It will do you the world of good to face facts for a bit. Look at life in the raw, you know.

See things steadily and see them whole, eh? And Paul's guardian lit another cigar. Have I no legal right to any money at all? Asked Paul. None whatever, my dear boy, said his guardian quite cheerfully. That spring, Paul's guardian's daughter had two new evening frocks and thus glorified, became engaged to a well-conducted young man in the office of works. Sent down for indecent behavior, eh? Said Mr. Levy of Church and Gargoyle Scholastic Agents.

Well, I don't think we'll say anything about that. In fact, officially, mine, you haven't told me. We call that sort of thing education discontinued for personal reasons. You understand. He picked up the telephone. Mr. Sampson, have we any education discontinued posts, mail, on hand? Right. Bring it up, will you? I think, he added, turning again to Paul, we have just the thing for you. A young man brought in a slip of paper. What about that?

Paul Redde, Private and Confidential Notice of Vacancy. Augustus Fagan, Esquire, Ph.D., Yanaba Castle, North Wales. Requires immediately junior assistant master to teach classics and English to university standard with subsidiary mathematics. German and French. Experience essential. First class games essential. Status of school. School. Salary offered. 120 pound resident post.

Reply promptly but carefully to Dr. Fagan, Esquire PhD, on envelope. Enclosing copies of testimonials and photograph, if considered advisable, mentioning that you have heard of the vacancy through us. Might have been made for you, said Mr. Levy, but I don't know a word of German. I've had no experience. I've got no testimonials, and I can't play cricket. It doesn't do to be too modest, said Mr. Levy. It's wonderful what one can teach when one tries.

Why, only last term we sent a man who had never been in a laboratory in his life, a senior science master to one of our leading public schools. He came wanting to do private coaching in music. He's doing very well, I believe. Besides, Dr. Fagan can't expect all that for the salary he's offering. Between ourselves, Yanaba hasn't a good name in the profession. We class schools, you see, into four grades. Leading school, first-rate school, good school, and school.

Frankly, said Mr. Levy, school is pretty bad. I think you'll find it a very suitable post. So far as I know, there are only two other candidates, and one of them is totally deaf, poor fellow. Next day, Paul went to church in Gargoyles to interview Dr. Fagan. He had not long to wait. Dr. Fagan was already there interviewing the other candidates. After a few minutes, Mr. Levy led Paul into the room, introduced him, and left them together. A most exhaustive interview,

said Dr. Fagan. I'm sure he was a very nice young man, but I could not make him understand a word I said. Can you hear me quite clearly? Perfectly, thank you. Good, then let us get to business. Paul eyed him shyly across the table. He was very tall and very old and very well dressed. He had sunken eyes and rather long white hair over jet black eyebrows. His head was very long and swayed lightly as he spoke. His voice had a thousand modulations,

as though at some remote time he had taken lessons in elocution. The backs of his hands were hairy, and his fingers were crooked like claws. "'I understand you have had no previous experience?' "'No, sir. I am afraid not.' "'Well, of course. That is in many ways an advantage. One too easily acquires the professional tone and loses vision. But of course we must be practical. I am offering a salary of one hundred and twenty pounds, but only to a man with experience.'

I have a letter here from a young man who holds a diploma in forestry. He wants an extra ten pounds a year on the strength of it. But it is vision I need, Mr. Pennyfeather, not diplomas. I understand, too, that you left your university rather suddenly. Now why is that? This was the question that Paul had been dreading, and true to his training, he had resolved upon honesty. I was sent down, sir, for indecent behavior. Indeed, indeed. Well, I shall not ask for details.

I have been in the scholastic profession long enough to know that nobody enters it unless he has some very good reason which he is anxious to conceal. But again, to be practical, Mr. Pennyfeather, I can hardly pay 120 pounds to anyone who has been sent down for indecent behavior. Suppose that we fix your salary, then 90 pounds a year to begin with. I have to return to Yanaba tonight. There are six more weeks of term, you see, and I have lost a master rather suddenly.'

I shall expect you tomorrow evening. There is an excellent train from Houston that leaves at about ten. I think you will like your work, he continued dreamily. You will find that my school is built upon an ideal, an ideal of service and fellowship. Many of the boys come from the very best families. Little Lord Tangent has come to us this term, the Earl of Circumference's son, you know. Such a nice little chap. Erratic, of course, like all his family, but he has tone.

Dr. Fagan gave a long sigh. I wish I could say the same for my staff. Between ourselves, Pennyfeather, I think I shall have to get rid of Grimes fairly soon. He is not out of the top drawer, and boys notice these things. Now, your predecessor was a thoroughly agreeable young man. I was sorry to lose him, but he used to wake up my daughters coming back on his motor bicycle at all hours of the night. He used to borrow money from the boys, too, quite large sums, and the parents objected.

I had to get rid of him. Still, I was very sorry. He had tone. Dr. Fagan rose, put on his hat at a jaunty angle, and drew on a glove. Goodbye, my dear Pennyfeather. I think, in fact, I know, that we are going to work well together. I can always tell these things. Goodbye, sir, said Paul. Five percent of ninety pounds is four pounds ten shillings, said Mr. Levy cheerfully. You can pay now, or on receipt, of your first term's salary.

If you pay now, there is a reduction of 15%. That would be three pounds, six shillings, and six pence. I'll pay you when I get my wages, said Paul. Just as you please, said Mr. Levy. Only too glad to have been of use to you. Chapter 2. The Inaba Castle. The Inaba Castle presents two quite different aspects. According as you approach it, from the Bangor or the coast road,

From the back it looks very much like any other large country house, with a great many windows and a terrace, and a chain of glass houses and the roofs of innumerable nondescript kitchen buildings disappearing into the trees. But from the front, and that is how it is approached from Yanaba Station, it is formidably futile. One drives past at least a mile of magic-related wall before reaching the gates.

These are towered and turreted and decorated with heraldic animals and a workable particle. Beyond them at the end of the avenue stands the castle, a model of medieval impregnability. The explanation of this rather striking contrast is simple enough. At the time of the cotton famine in the 60s, Yanaba House was the property of a prosperous Lancashire mill owner. His wife could not bear to think of their men starving.

In fact, she and her daughters organized a little bazaar in their aid, though without very substantial results. Her husband had read the liberal economists and could not think of paying them without due return. Accordingly, enlightened self-interest found a way. An encampment of mill hands was settled in the park, and they were put to work, walling the grounds and facing the house with great blocks of stone from a neighboring quarry. At the end of the American War, they returned to their mills.

and Yanaba House became Yanaba Castle, after a great deal of work had been done very cheaply. Driving up from the station, in a little closed taxi, Pa saw little of all this. It was almost dark in the avenue, and quite dark inside the house. I am Mr. Pennyfeather, he said to the butler. I have come here as a master. Yes, said the butler. I know all about you. This way.

They went down a number of passages, unlit and smelling obscurely of all the ghastly smells of school, until they reached a brightly lighted door. In there, that's the common room. Without more ado, the butler made off into the darkness. Paul looked around. It was not a very big room. Even he felt that, and all his life he had been accustomed to living in constricted spaces. I wonder how many people live here, he thought.

and with a stick thrust of apprehension, counted sixteen pipes in a rack at the side of the chimney piece. Two gowns hung on a hook behind the door. In a corner were some golf clubs, a walking stick, an umbrella, and two miniature rifles. Over the chimney piece was a green baize notice board, covered with lists. There was a typewriter on the table. In a bookcase there were a number of very old textbooks, and some new exercise books.

There were also a bicycle pump, two armchairs, a straight chair, half a bottle of invalid port, a boxing glove, a bowler hat, yesterday's daily news, and a packet of pipe cleaners. Paul sat down disconsolately on the straight chair. Presently there was a knock at the door, and a small boy came in. "'Oh,' he said, looking at Paul intently. "'Hello,' said Paul. "'I was looking for Captain Grimes,' said the little boy. "'Oh,' said Paul.

The child continued to look at Paul with a penetrating and personal interest. I suppose you're the new master, he said. Yes, said Paul. I'm called Pennyfeather. The little boy gave a shrill laugh. I think that's terribly funny, he said, and went away. Presently the door opened again, and two more boys looked in. They stood and giggled for a time, and then made off. In the course of the next half hour, six or seven boys appeared in various pretexts and stared at Paul. Then a bell rang.

and there was a terrific noise of whistling and scampering. The door opened, and a very short man of about thirty came into the common room. He had a great deal of noise and coming, because he had an artificial leg. He had a short red mustache, and was slightly bald. "'Hello,' he said. "'Hello,' said Paul. "'I'm Captain Grimes,' said the newcomer. "'Man, come in you,' he added to someone outside. Another boy came in. "'What do you mean?' said Grimes. "'By whistling when I told you to stop.'

Everyone else was whistling, said the boy. What's that got to do with it? Grimes said. I should think it had a lot to do with it, said the boy. Well, just you do a hundred lines, and next time, remember, I shall beat you, said Grimes, with this, waving the walking stick. That wouldn't hurt much, said the boy, and went out. There's no discipline in the place, said Grimes, and then he went out too. I wonder whether I'm going to enjoy being a schoolmaster, thought Paul.

Quite soon another and older man came into the room. "'Hello,' he said to Paul. "'Hello,' said Paul. "'I'm Prendergast,' said the newcomer. "'Have some pour?' "'Thank you, I'd love to. "'Well, there's only one glass.' "'Oh, well, it doesn't matter then. "'You might get your tooth glass from your bedroom. "'I don't know where that is. "'Oh, well, never mind. "'We'll have some another night. "'Suppose you're the new master. "'Yes, you'll hate it here. "'I know, I've been here ten years. "'Crimes only came this term.'

He hates it already. Have you seen Grimes? Yeah, I think so. He isn't a gentleman. Do you smoke? Yes. A pipe, I mean. Yes. Those are my pipes. Remind me to show them to you after dinner. At this moment, the butler appeared with a message that Dr. Fagan wished to see Mr. Pennyfeather. Dr. Fagan's part of the castle was more palatial. He stood at the end of a long room with his back to a rococo marble chimney piece. He wore a velvet dinner jacket.

Settling in, he asked. Yes, said Paul. Sitting before the fire, with a glass bottle of sweets in her lap, was a brightly dressed woman in early middle age. That, said Dr. Fagan with some disgust, is my daughter. Pleased to meet you, said Miss Fagan. Now what I always tell the young chaps, as comes here, is, don't let the dad overwork you. He's a regular tartar, his dad. But then, you know what scholars are. Inhuman.

"'Ain't you,' said Miss Fagin, turning on her father with sudden ferocity. "'Ain't you inhuman?' "'At times, my dear. I'm grateful for what little detachment I have achieved. But here,' he added, "'is my other daughter.' Silently, except for a scarcely perceptible jingling of keys, another woman had entered the room. She was younger than her sister, but far less gay. "'How do you do?' she said. "'I do hope you have brought some soap with you. I asked my father to tell you, but he so often forgets these things.'

Masters are not supplied with soap, or with boot polish, or with washing over two shillings and sixpence weekly. Did you take sugar in your tea? Yes, usually. I will make a note of that, and have two extra lumps put out for you. Don't let the boys get them, though. I've put you in charge of the fifth form for the rest of this term, said Dr. Fagan. You will find them delightful boys, quite delightful. Clutterbuck wants watching, by the way. A very delicate little chap. I've also put you in charge of the games.

the carpentering class, and the fire drill. And I forget, did you teach music? No, I'm afraid not. Unfortunate, most unfortunate. I understood from Mr. Levy that you did. I've arranged for you to take best Chewindy in organ lessons twice a week. Well, you must do what you can. There goes the bell for dinner. I won't detain you. Oh, one other thing. Not a word to the boys, please, about the reasons for your leaving Oxford. We schoolmasters must temper discretion with deceit.

There, I fancy I have said something for you to think about. Good night. Toodle-oo, said the elder, Miss Fagan. Chapter 3. Captain Grimes. Paul had very little difficulty in finding the dining hall. He was guided there by the smell of cooking and the sound of voices. It was a large paneled room, far from disagreeable, with fifty or sixty boys of ages ranging from ten to eighteen, settled along four tables. The smaller ones wore eaten suits.

The elder one's dinner jackets. He was led to a place at the head of one of the tables. The boys on the other side of him stood up very politely until he sat down. One of them was the boy who had whistled at Captain Grimes. Paul thought he rather liked him. I'm called Best Chitwindi, he said. I've got to teach you the organ, I believe. Yes, it's great fun. We play in the village church. Do you play terribly well? Paul felt that this was not a moment for candor. And so, tempering discretion with deceit, he said.

Yes, remarkably well. I say, do you really, or are you rotting? Indeed I'm not. I used to give lessons to the Master of Scone. Well, you won't be able to teach me much, said Bass Chitwendy, cheerfully. I only do it to get off gym. I say, they haven't given you a napkin. These servants are too awful. Philbrick, he shouted to the butler, why haven't you given Mr. Pennyfeather a napkin?

Forgot, said Philbrick. And it's too late now because Miss Fagin's locked the linen up. Nonsense, said Best Chitwindi. Go and get one at once. That man's all right, really, he added. Only he wants watching. In a few minutes, Philbrick returned with the napkin. It seems to me that you're a remarkably intelligent boy, said Paul. Captain Grimes doesn't think so. He says I'm half-witted. I'm glad you are not like Captain Grimes. He's so common, don't you think?

You mustn't talk about the other masters like that in front of me. Well, that's what we all think about him anyway. What's more, he wears combinations. I saw it in his washing book one day when I was fetching him his hat. I think combinations are rather awful, don't you? There was a commotion at the end of the hall. I expect that's Clusterbuck being sick, said Best Chitwindi. He's usually sick when we have mutton. The boy on Paul's other side now spoke for the first time. Mr. Prendergast wears a wig, he said.

and then became very confused and subsided into a giggle. That's Briggs, said Bass Chitwendy. Only everyone calls him Brawley because of the shop, you know. They're silly rotters, said Briggs. All this was a great deal easier than Paul'd expect him. It didn't seem so very hard to get on with boys, after all. After a time, they all stood up, and amid considerable noise, Mr. Prendergast said grace. Someone called out, Prendy, very loudly, just by Paul's ear.

Per Christian Dominum Nostrum. Amen, said Mr. Prendergast. Bess Chetwendy, was that you who made that noise? Me, sir. No, sir. Pennyfeather, did Bess Chetwendy make that noise? No, I don't think so, said Paul. And Bess Chetwendy gave him a friendly look, because as a matter of fact, he had. Captain Grimes linked arms with him outside the dining hall. Filthy meal, isn't it, old boy, he said. Pretty bad, said Paul.

Prendi's on duty tonight. I'm off to the pub. How about you? All right, said Paul. Prendi's not so bad in his way, said Grimes. But he can't keep order. Of course, you know he wears a wig. Very hard for a man with a wig to keep order. I've got a false leg, but that's different. Boys respect that. Think I lost it in the war, actually, said the captain. And strictly between ourselves. Mind, I was run over by a tram in Stokentron when I was one over the ape.

Still, it doesn't do to let that out to everyone. Funny thing, but I can feel I trust you. I think we're gonna be pals. I hope so, said Paul. I've been feeling the need of a pal for some time. The bloke before you wasn't bad. A bit standoffish, though. He had a motorbike, you see. The daughters of the house didn't care for him. Have you met Miss Fagan? I've met two. They're both awful, said Grimes, and added moodily, I'm engaged to be married to Flossie. Good God. Which is she? The elder.

The boys called them Flossie and Dingy. We haven't told the old boys yet. I'm waiting till I land in the soup again. Then I shall play that as my last card. I generally get into the soup sooner or later. Here's the pub. Not such a bad little place in its way. Clutterbuck's father makes all the beer around here. Not bad stuff either. Two pints, please, Mrs. Roberts. In the further corner sat Philbrick, talking volubly in Welsh to a shady-looking old man.

"'Damn cheek is coming in here,' said Grimes. Mrs. Roberts brought them their beer. Grimes took a long draft and sighed happily. "'This looks like being the first end of term I've seen in two years,' he said dreamily. "'Funny thing, I can always get on all right for about six weeks, and then I land in the soup. I don't believe I was ever meant by nature to be a schoolmaster.' "'Temperament,' said Grimes, with a faraway look in his eyes. "'That's been my trouble. Temperament and sex.'

Is it quite easy to get another job after, after you've been in the soup? asked Paul. Not at first, it isn't, but there are ways. Besides, you see, I'm a public school man. That means everything. There's a blessed equity in the English social system, said Grimes, that ensures the public school man against starvation. One goes through four or five years of perfect hell, at an age when life is bound to be hell anyway, and after that the social system never lets one down.

Not that I stood four or five years of it, mine. I got the push soon after my 16th birthday. But my housemaster was a public school man. He knew the system. Grimes, he said. I can't keep you in the house after what has happened. I have the other boys to consider. But I don't want to be too hard on you. I want you to start again. So we sat down there and then wrote me a letter of recommendation to any future employer. A corking good letter, too. I've got it still. It's been very useful at one time or another.

There's the public school system all over. They may kick you out, but they never let you down. I subscribed a man to the War Memorial Fund. I felt I owed it to them. I was really sorry, said Grimes, that their check never got quite through. After that, I went into business. Uncle of mine had a brush factory at Edmonton, doing pretty well before the war. That put the lid on the brush trade for me. You're too young to have been in the war, I suppose. Those were the days, old boy. We shan't see the like of them again.

I don't suppose I was really sober for more than a few hours for the whole of that war. Then I got into the soup again, pretty badly that time. Happened over in France, they said. Happened over in France. They said, now Grimes, you've got to behave like a gentleman. We don't want a court-martial in this regiment. We're going to leave you alone for half an hour. There's your revolver. You know what to do. Goodbye, old man, they said quite affectionately. Well, I sat there for some time looking at that revolver.

I put it up to my head twice, but each time I brought it down again. Public school men don't end like this, I said to myself. It was a long half hour, but luckily they had left a decanter of whiskey in there with me. They'd all had a few, I think. That's what made them all so solemn. There wasn't much whiskey left when they came back. And what with that and the strain of the situation, I could only laugh when they came in. Silly thing to do, but they looked so surprised, seeing me there alive and drunk.

"'The man's a cad,' said the colonel. But even then I couldn't stop laughing, so they put me under arrest and called a court-martial. I must say, I fell pretty low the next day. A major came over from another battalion to try my case. He came to see me first, and blessed me, if it wasn't a cove I'd known at school. "'God bless my soul,' he said. "'If it isn't Grimes of Podgers. What's all this nonsense about a court-martial?' So I told him. "'Hm,' he said. "'Pretty bad.'

Still, it's out of the question to shoot an old Herovian. I'll see what I can do about it. The next day I was sent to Ireland on a pretty cushy job connected with postal service. That sought me out as far as the war was concerned. You can't get into the soup in Ireland. Do what you like. I don't know if all this bores you. Not at all, said Paul. I think it's most encouraging. I've been in the soup pretty often since then, but never quite so badly. Someone always turns up and says...

I can't see a public school man down and out. Let me put you on your feet again, I should think, said Grimes. I've been put on my feet more often than any living man. Philbrook came across the bar parlor toward them. Feeling lonely, he said. I've been talking to the station master here, and if either of you ever wants an introduction to a young lady. Certainly not, said Paul. Oh, all right, said Philbrook, making off. Women are an enigma, said Grimes, as far as Grimes is concerned. Chapter Four

Mr. Prendergast. Paul was awakened next morning by a loud bang on his door, and Bess Chitwendy looked in. He was wearing a very expensive-looking, charvet dressing gown. Good morning, sir, he said. I thought I'd come and tell you, as you wouldn't know. There's only one bathroom for the masters. If you want to get there before Mr. Prendergast, you ought to go now. Captain Grimes doesn't wash much, he added, and then disappeared.

Paul went to the bath and was rewarded some minutes later by hearing the shuffling of slippers down the passage and the door furiously rattled. As he was dressing, Philbrick appeared. Oh, I forgot to call you. Breakfast is in ten minutes. After breakfast, Paul went up to the common room. Mr. Prendergast was there polishing his pipes, one by one, with chamois leather. He looked reproachfully at Paul. We must come to some arrangement about the bathroom, he said.

"'Grimes very rarely has a bath. I have one before breakfast.' "'So do I,' said Paul defiantly. "'And I suppose I shall have to find some other time,' said Mr. Prendergast, and he gave a deep sigh as he returned his attention to his pipes. "'After ten years, too,' he added. "'But everything's like that. I might have known you'd want the bath. It was so easy when there was only Grimes and that other young man. He was never down in time for breakfast. Oh dear, oh dear,'

I can see that things are going to be very difficult. But surely, we could both have one? No, no, that's out of the question. It's all part of the same thing. Everything has been like this since I left the ministry. Paul made no answer, and Mr. Prendergast went on breathing and rubbing. I expect you wonder how I came to be here. No, no, said Paul soothingly. I think it's very natural. It's not natural at all. It's most unnatural.

If things had happened a little differently, I should be a rector with my own house and bathroom. I might have been a rural dean only, said Mr. Prendergast, dropped his voice to a whisper. Only I had doubts. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. Nobody else knows. I somehow feel you'll understand. Ten years ago, I was a clergyman of the Church of England. I had just been presented to a living and worthy. It was such an attractive church, not old, but very beautifully decorated.

Six candles on the altar, reservation in the lady chapel, and an excellent heating apparatus which burned coke in a little shed by the sacristy door. No graveyard, just a hedge of golden privet between the church and the rectory. As soon as I moved in, my mother came to keep house for me. She brought some chintz out of her own money for the drawing room curtains. She used to be at home once a week to the ladies of the congregation.

One of them, the dentist's wife, gave me a set of the Encyclopedia Britannica for my study. It was all very pleasant, until my doubts began. Were they as bad as all that? asked Paul. They were in Super Bowl, said Mr. Prendergast. That is why I am here now. But I expect that I am boring you. No, do go on. That's to say, unless you find it painful to think about. I think about it all the time. It happened like this, quite suddenly. We had been there about three months.

and my mother had made great friends with some people called Bundle, rather a curious name. I think he was an insurance agent until he retired. Mrs. Bundle used very kindly to ask us into supper on Sundays after evensong. They were pleasant, informal gatherings, and I used quite to look forward to them. I can see them now, as they sat there on the particular evening. There was my mother and Mr. and Mrs. Bundle, and their son, rather a spotty boy, I remember.

who used to go into Brighton College by train every day, and Mrs. Bundle's mother, a Mrs. Crump, rather deaf, but a very good churchwoman, and Mrs. Abel, that was the name of the dentist's wife, who gave me the Encyclopedia Britannica, and old Major Ending, the People's Warden. I had preached two sermons that day, besides taking the children's Bible class in the afternoon, and I had rather dropped out of the conversation.

They were all talking away quite happily about the preparations that were being made on the pier for the summer season, when suddenly, for no reason at all, my doubts began. He paused, and Paul felt constrained to offer some expression of sympathy. What a terrible thing, he said. Yes, I've not known an hour's real happiness since. You see, it wasn't the ordinary sort of doubt about Cain's wife with the Old Testament miracles, the consecration of Archbishop Parker,

i've been taught how to explain all those while i was at college no it was something deeper than all that i couldn't understand why god had made the world at all there was my mother and the bundles and mrs crumb talking away quite unconcernedly while i sat there wrestling with this sudden assault of doubt you see how fundamental that is once granted the first step i can see that everything else follows power of babel babylonian captivity

incarceration, church, bishops, incense, everything. But what I couldn't see, and what I can't see now, is why did it all begin? I asked my bishop. He didn't know. He said that he didn't think the point really arose as far as my practical duties as a parish priest were concerned. I discussed it with my mother. At first, she was inclined to regard it as a passing phase, but it didn't pass.

But finally she agreed with me that the only honorable thing to do was to resign my living. She never really recovered from the shock, poor old lady. It was a great blow after she had bought the chintz and got so friendly with the bundles. A bell began ringing down a distant passage. Well, well, we must go to prayers, and I haven't finished my pipes. He took his gown from the peg behind the door and slipped it over his shoulders. Perhaps one day I shall see light.

and then I shall go back to the ministry. Meanwhile, Clutterbuck ran past the door, whistling hideously. That's a nasty little boy, said Mr. Prendergast, if ever there was one. Thank you for listening to Sleepy. Good night.