SURREY 117 



than by the walls and gamekeepers. They weave an 

 atmosphere about it. We bow the head and reverence 

 the labour of time in smoothing the grass, mellowing the 

 stone and the manners of the inhabitants, and yet an 

 inevitable conflict ensues in the mind between this respect 

 and the feeling that it is only a respect for surfaces, that a 

 thousand years is a heavy price to pay for the maturing 

 of park and liouse and gentleman, especially as he is most 

 likely to be a well-meaning parasite on those who are 

 concerned twenty-four hours a day about the diflRculty 

 of living and about what to do when they are alive. 



No, it is the alien remote appearance of the house and 

 land serene in the May evening light which creates this 

 reverence in the mind. It is not feudalism, or the old 

 nobility and gentility, that we are bowing down to, but 

 only to Nature without us and the dream within us. It 

 is certainly not pure envy. Nor yet is it for the same 

 reason as made Borrow reflect when he saw the good 

 house at the end of an avenue of noble oaks near 

 Llandovery — 



"... A plain but comfortable gentleman's seat with 

 wings. It looked south down the dale. * With what 

 satisfaction I could live in that house,' said I to myself, * if 

 backed by a couple of thousand a year. With what 

 gravity could I sign a warrant in its library, and with 

 what dreamy comfort translate an ode of Lewis Glyn 

 Cothi, my tankard of rich ale beside me. I wonder 

 whether the proprietor is fond of the old bard and keeps 

 good ale. Were I an Irishman instead of a Norfolk man 

 I would go in and ask him.' " 



Not if he were a Welshman, either. For I at least 

 know that in no other man's house should I be better off 



