December 16, 1913
I have had Tony down here for a few days. It was like entertaining a hurricane. He says that I'm in danger of becoming as invertebrate as a limpet. "Where are," he asked, "the wild diatribes against abuses, the physical fitness, the madness about games, the frenzy for intellectual improvement?" I shook my head sadly and murmured something about the air. The boys he looked at in "break" one morning and snorted audibly like a war-horse. "These lads have got the 'guts' of an Ague-cheek, the blood of sardines," he said. "Why don't they get a move on? Do they always slop about like this? You want the Radchester sergeant here for a few days, some one to open their windpipes. What do you do all day?" I told him. "I said 'do,'" he replied.
Perhaps my appendicitis may have something to do with it, but certainly it is a change to find myself confining myself to a slow walk into the town with Elspeth in place of the seven miles' strenuous run or the gory game of "Rugger" that usually occupied my afternoons. I go out with the beagles a good deal, but for the first time in my life, instead of trying to follow the hounds wherever they go, I sit on the tops of gates and wait for them to come back and don't worry if I lose them altogether. There is no fighting against the temptation to slack.
Elspeth has had a school-friend staying with her who infuriated me by her vacuous behaviour. Her only aim in life is to attract men. I don't know what is the matter with me, but married life is rubbing me up the wrong way. I am becoming fidgety about my rights in the house. It sounds childish: in fact it is childish. This settling down business is going to be a lengthier job than I thought. I seem to have lost all my old freedom of action or thought. I certainly love Elspeth no less in my heart of hearts, but I hate being managed by a pack of women. First there is the servant, then Elspeth, then Elspeth's school-friend. I never seem to see a man. I can no longer have crowds of boys about me and entertain them as I used to, because it's so expensive and we can't afford it. Besides it makes so much extra work. But the real trouble is, I fancy, that I love Elspeth far more than she loves me. I scent the elements of a tragedy here already.
One custom here pleases me a good deal. All the senior boys have us in turn to their studies to tea. They are much more men of the world than the Radchester "bloods." Their airs and moustaches, their evident wealth and perfect ease of manner all frighten me. I feel very much more like a "fag" being patronized than a master.
I have already had two or three dire conflicts in Common Room over the articles I have lately published. Several of my colleagues won't speak to me: others say that I am trying to head a revolt against games and all the age-old traditions that made Marlton famous: "whippersnapper" is the phrase most commonly employed about me I think. I see myself classed with Tipham of "The Lanchester Tradition." One of the greatest pleasures I get in life is on alternate Saturday evenings, when I attend the School Debating Society and let loose some of my "wild" theories. These do not tend to make me more popular, but they certainly rouse people to speak who normally would keep silence either through nervousness or indifference.
My work I should like if only there were more of it. I get so little to do that life hangs very heavily on my hands. I am become further domesticated by the possession of a dog and a cat. We quarrel over the animals. I loathe the cat: I hate all sleepy things and Elspeth hates the dog in the house. Consequently I go off with "Sludge" (a wild rough-haired terrier with no respect for anything in the world) and tramp the country for miles and talk to him: he can understand my frets and worries. He is very like me, never happy unless he is out and about chasing something frenziedly. Elspeth stays at home and consoles herself with the cat. It's a bad existence. Lately I have succumbed to a new disease. I have an overmastering desire to hear the roar and bustle of London: I believe if we lived there we should be happy, there is such heaps to do.
Most husbands in the city only see their wives at night, in the early morning and evening. Consequently they are glad to meet, whereas Elspeth and I can see one another nearly every moment of the day. I am in to all meals and invariably about the place when rooms are being cleaned out, which seems to me to be happening all and every day. The only way I have kept going is by keeping the house full of visitors, mainly old Radcastrians, who come to see what sort of a married man I make.
One curious incident that has just happened will give the clue to my state of mind.