12 Room With A View - Guided Literature

In E.M. Forster's classic novel A Room with a View, the 'view' symbolises personal freedom and authentic living, while the 'room' represents the rigid social expectations of Edwardian society. This chapter marks the start of Part Two. The chapter features Lucy accepting Cecil's marriage proposal, Cecil's arrival at Windy Corner, and his snobbish views on society.
In this episode, it's bathing time in the local pond!
Music by Jean-Miles Carter
All rights reserved. This audio file contains a hidden watermark. Individual use only. Copyright Neworld Books.

Transcript

Welcome to sleep stories with Steph your go-to podcast. That offers you a calm and relaxing transition to sleep. Into a great night's sleep. It is time to relax and fully let go. There is nothing you need to be doing now. And know where you need to go. Close your eyes. And feel yourself sink into the support beneath you. And let all the worries of the day go. Drift away. This is your time. And your space. Take a deep breath in through your nose. And let it out with a long sigh. That's it! There is nothing you need to be doing now. And know where you need to go. Happy listening. Chapter 12 Twelfth Chapter It was a Saturday afternoon, Gay and brilliant after abundant rains, And the spirit of youth dwelt in it, Though the season was now autumn. All that was gracious triumph. As the motorcars passed through Summer Street, They raised only a little dust and their stench was soon dispersed by the wind and replaced by the scent of the wet birches or of the pines. Mr. B, But leisure for life's amenities, Lent over his rectory gate. Freddy lent by him, Smoking a pendant pipe. Suppose we go and hinder those new people opposite for a little. Mmm. They might amuse you. Freddy, Whom his fellow creatures never amused, Suggested that the new people might be feeling a little busy, And so since they had only just moved in. I guess we should hinder them, " said Mr B. They are worth it. Unlatching the gate, He sorted over the triangular green to Sissy Villa. He cried, Shouting in at the open door, Through which much squalor was visible. A grey voice replied, Hello. I brought someone to see you. I'll be down in a minute. The passage was blocked by a wardrobe, Which the removal men had failed to carry up the stairs. Mr Beeb edged around it with difficulty. The sitting room itself was blocked with books. Are these people great readers? Freddy whispered. Are they that sort? A fancy they know how to read. A rare accomplishment. What have they got? Byron, Exactly. A schropsy lad. Never heard of it. The way of all flesh. Never heard of that. Gibbon? Hello. Dear George reads German. Mr. B, Look at that! " said Freddy in awestruck tones. On the cornice of the wardrobe, The hand of an amateur had painted this inscription. Mistrust all enterprises that require new clothes. I know, Isn't it jolly? I like that. I'm certain that's the old man's doing. How very odd of him. Surely you agree. But Freddie was his mother's son and felt that one ought not to go on spoiling the furniture. Pictures! The clergyman continued scrambling about the room. Giotto! They got that at Florence, I'll be bound. The same as Lucy's God. By the by, Did Miss Honeychurch enjoy London? She came back yesterday. I suppose she had a good time. Berry? " said Fred, Taking up a book. She and Cecil were thicker than ever. That's good hearing. I wish I wasn't such a fool, Mr. Beebe. Mr B ignored that remark. Lucy nearly used to be as stupid as I am, But it'll be very different now, Mother thinks. She'll probably read all kinds of books. So will you. Only medical books, No books that you can talk about afterwards. Cecil's teaching Lucy Italian. He says her playing's wonderful. There are all kinds of things in it we have never noticed, " Cecil says. What on earth are those people doing upstairs? Emerson I think we'll come another time. George ran downstairs and pushed them into the room without speaking. Let me introduce Mr Honeychurch, A neighbour. Freddie Hull, One of the thunderbolts of youth. Perhaps he was shy, Perhaps he was friendly, Or perhaps he thought George's face wanted washing. All events he greeted him with, How do you do? Come and have a bathe. Oh, Right, " said George, Impassive. Mr B was highly entertained. How do you do? Come and have a bath, He chuckled. That's the best conversational opening I think I've ever heard. But I'm afraid it'll only act between men. Can you picture a lady who's been introduced to another lady by a third lady opening civilities with, How do you do, Come and have a bathe? And yet you will tell me the sexes are equal. I tell you that they shall be, " said Miss Remison, Who had been slowly descending the stairs. Good afternoon, Mr. Beebe. I tell you, They shall be comrades, And George thinks the same. We are to raise ladies to our level. Coachman Inquired. The Garden of Eden pursued Mr. Emerson still descending, Which you place in the past is really yet to come. We shall enter it when we no longer despise our bodies. Mr B disclaimed placing the Garden of Eden anywhere. In these not in other things, We men are ahead. We despise the body less than women do. But not until we are comrades shall we enter the garden. I say, What about this bathe? Murmured Freddy, Appalled at the mass of philosophy that was approaching him. I believed in a return to nature once. But how can we return to nature when we have never been with her? Today I believe we must discover nature. After many conquests, We shall attain simplicity. It is our heritage. Let me introduce Mr. Honeychurch, Whose sister you will remember at Florence. How do you do? Very glad to see you and that you were taking George for a bathe. Very glad to hear your sister's going to marriage. Marriage is a duty. I'm sure she'll be very happy, For all we know Mr. Vise too. He has been most kind. He met us by chance in the National Gallery and arranged everything about this delightful house. Though I hope I have not vexed Sir Harry Otway. I have met so few liberal landowners, And I was anxious to compare his attitude towards the game laws with a conservative attitude. Oh, This wind! You do well to bathe. Yours is a glorious country, Honeychurch. Not a bit, " mumbled Freddy. I must, That is to say I have to, Have the pleasure of calling on you later on, My mother says. I hope so. Call, My lad. Who taught us that drawing-room twaddle? Call on your grandmother. Listen to the wind among the pines. Yours is a glorious country. Mr. B came to the rescue. Mr. Emerson, He will call. I shall call. You or your son will return our calls before ten days. I trust you have realized about the ten days interval? It does not count I helped you with the stair eyes yesterday. It does not count they are going to bathe this afternoon. Yes, Go and bathe, George. Why do you dawdle talking? Bring them back to tea. Bring some milk, Cakes and honey. The change will do you good. George has been working very hard at his office. I can't quite believe his wealth. George bowed his head, Dusty and sombre, Exhaling the peculiar smell of one who has handled furniture. I have, He said. I have said yes already. Mr Beeb felt bound to assist his young friend and led the way out of the house and into the pine woods. How glorious it was. For a little time, The voice of old Mr. Emerson pursued them, Dispensing good wishes and philosophy. It's ceased. And they only heard the fair wind blowing the bracken and the trees. Mr. B, Who could be silent but who could not bear silence, Was compelled to chatter, Since the expedition looked like a failure and neither of his companions would utter a word. He spoke of Florence. George attended gravely, Assenting or descending with slight but determined gestures that were as inexplicable as the motions of the treetops above their heads. And what a coincidence you should meet Mr. Wise. Did you realize you would find all the pension Bertolini down here? I did not, Miss Lavish told me. When I was a young man, I always meant to write a history of coincidence. No enthusiasm for that. Though as a matter of fact, Coincidences are much rarer than we'd suppose. For example, It isn't purely coincidentally you are here now when one comes to reflect. To Mr. Beave's relief, George began to talk. It is, I have reflected, Fate. Everything is fate. We are flung together by fate, Drawn apart by fate. Flung together and drawn apart. The twelve winds blow us. We settle nothing. You have not reflected at all, Rapped the clergyman. Let me give you a useful tip, Emerson. Attribute nothing to fate. Don't say, I didn't do this, For you did it ten to one. Now I'll cross question you. Where did you first meet Miss Honeychurch and myself? And where did you meet Mr Vise who's going to marry Miss Honeychurch? National Gallery. Looking at Italian art. There. And yet you talk of coincidence and fate. You naturally seek out things Italian. And so do we and our friends. This narrows the field immeasurably. It is fate that I am here, Persisted George. But you can call it easily if it makes you less unhappy. Mr. Beave slid away from such a heavy treatment of the subject. But he was infinitely tolerant of the young and had no desire to snub George. And so, For this and for other reasons, My history of coincidence is still to write. Silence. Wishing to round off the episode, He added, We are also glad you've come. Again, Silence. Here we are, Cried Freddy. Oh, Good! " exclaimed Mr Beeb, Mopping his brow. In there's the pond. I wish it was bigger, " he added apologetically. They climbed down a slippery bank of pine needles. There lay the pond, Set in its little alp of green. It's distinctly successful as ponds go, " said Mr Beebe. No apologies are necessary for the pond. George sat down where the ground was dry and drearily unlaced his boots. Aren't those masses of willow herb splendid? I love willow herb in seed. What's the name of this aromatic plant? No one knew. No one seemed to care. Mr Beeb, Aren't you bathing? " called Freddy as he stripped himself. Mr B thought he would not. The water's wonderful! Cried Freddy, Prancing in. Mortar's water, Murmured George, Wetting his hair first, A sure sign of apathy. He followed Freddy into the divine as indifferent as if he were a statue and the pond as pale of soap sards. It was necessary to use his muscles. It was necessary to keep clean. Mr B watched them and watched the seeds of the willow herb dance correctly above their heads. Mr Beeb, Who was hot and who always acquiesced where possible, Looked around him. He could detect no parishioners except the pine trees rising up steeply on all sides and gesturing to each other against the blue. How glorious it was! I may as well wash too, " he said, And soon his garments made a third little pile on the sword, And he too asserted the wonder of the water. It was ordinary water, Nor was there very much of it, And as Freddy said, It reminded one of swimming in a salad. The three gentlemen rotated in the pool, Breast high, After the fashion of the nymphs, But either because the rains had given a freshness, Or because the sun was shedding a most glorious heat. Or because two of the gentlemen were young in years and the third young in spirits. For some reason or other, A change came over them and they forgot Italy and botany and fate and began to play. Mr Beeb and Freddy splashed each other. Little deferentially they splashed George. He was quiet. They feared they had offended him. Then all the forces of youth burst out. He smiled, Flung himself at them, Splashed them, Dug them, Kicked them, Muddied them and drove them out of the pool. Race you round it then, Cried Freddy, And they raced in the sunshine, And George took a shortcut and dirtied his shins and had to bathe a second time. Then Mr. Beeb consented to run a memorable site. They ran to get dry. They bathed to get cool. They played at being Indians in the willow herbs and in the bracken. They bathed to get clean and all the time three little bundles lay discreetly on the sword proclaiming No, We are what matters. Without us shall no enterprise begin. To us shall all flesh turn in the end. A try, A try! " yelled Freddy, Snatching up George's bundle and placing it beside an imaginary goal post. Soccer rules! George retorted, Scattering Freddy's bundle with a kick. Go! Take care, My watch! " cried Mr Beads. Clothes flew in all directions. The two young men were delirious. Away they twinkled into the trees. Freddy had a clerical waistcoat under his arm. George had a wide-awake hat on his dripping hair. That'll do! " shouted Mr Beeb, Remembering after all he was in his own parish. Then his voice changed as if every pine tree was a rural dean. Steady on, I see people coming you fellows. Yells and widening circles over the dappled earth. Hi, Ladies. Neither George nor Freddy was truly refined. Still they did not hear Mr Beeb's last warning, Or they would have avoided Mrs Honeychurch, Cecil and Lucy, Who were walking down to call on old Mrs Butterworth. Freddy dropped the waistcoat at their feet and dashed into some bracken. George whooped in their faces, Turned and scudded away down the path to the pond, Still clad in Mr Beeb's hat. Gracious and alive! " cried Mrs. Tonny Church. Whoever were those unfortunate people? Oh, Look away, Look away! Poor Mr. B, Too. Whatever has happened? Come this way immediately, Commanded Cecil, Who always felt he must lead women, Though he knew not whither, And protect them, Though he knew not what against. He led them now towards the bracken, Where Freddy sat concealed. Oh, Poor Mr. Beep! Was that his waistcoat we left in the path? Cecil, Mr. Beep's waistcoat! No business of ours, Said Cecil, Glancing at Lucy, Who was all parasoled and evidently minded. I fancy Mr B jumped back into the pond. This way, Please, Mrs Honeychurch, This way. They followed Cecil up the bank attempting the tense yet nonchalant expression that is suitable for ladies on such occasions. Well, I can't help it, " said a voice close ahead. And Freddy read a freckled face and pair of snowy shoulders out of the fronds. I can't be trodden on, Can I? Goodness gracious me dear, So it's you. What miserable management. Why not have a comfortable bath at home with hot and cold laid on? Look here mother, A fellow must wash and a fellow's got to dry and if another fellow Dear, No doubt you're right as usual, But you are in no position to argue. Come, Lucy. They turned. Oh, Look! Don't look! Poor Mr Beeb, How unfortunate! Mr B was just crawling out of the pond on whose surface garments of an intimate nature did float. While George, The world weary George, Shouted to Freddy he'd hooked a fish. And me, I've swallowed one. Answered he of the bracken, I swallowed a pollywog. It wriggleth in my tummy. I shall die. Emerson, You beast, You've got on my bags. Hush, Dears! " said Mrs Honeychurch, Who found it impossible to remain shocked. And do be sure you dry yourselves thoroughly first. All these colds come of not drying thoroughly. Mother, Do come away, Said Lucy, For goodness sake, Do come. Cried George, So the lady stopped. He regarded himself as dressed. Barefoot, Bare-chested, Radiant, And personable against the shadowy woods he called Hello, Miss Honeychurch. Bow Lucy, Better bow. Whoever is it? I shall bow. Miss Honeychurch bowed. That evening and all that night, The water ran away. On the morrow, The pool shrunk to its old size and it lost its glory. It had been a call to the blood and to the relaxed will. A passing benediction whose influence did not pass. A holiness, A spell. A momentary chalice? For you.