maniacs and criminals of all degrees isncertainly apt to be even stronger amongnthe young of other nations, who are alreadynprepared to believe the worst ofnthe United States.nMr . Keneallv has done us no favornwith Confederates. That it is enthusiasticallynwelcomed in London is notngood news. The image of Americans asnsadistic monsters has already been radiatednfor too long by too many of ournmoviemakers. The fact that Keneallynhas mingled some historical facts withnhis fiction makes his overall productneven more damaging. That few readersnwill know the difference between hisnfacts and his fiction is merely a reflectionnof the modern education, which—nas far as history is concerned—is propagandisticnfroth.nHistory has witnessed previous periodsnwhen a nation’s record was subjectednto general assault. The most notablenwas the Enlightenment, when firstnFrenchmen and later foreigners decidednSpiritual Snobbery &nDemi-Intellectual BlusternThe Letters of Evelyn Waugh;nEdited by Mark Amory; Ticknor &nFields; New Haven, Connecticut.nErnest Hemingway: Selected Letters;nEdited by Carlos Baker; CharlesnScribner’s Sons; New York.nby Joseph SchwartznhLvelyn Waugh defined the letter asna form of conversation: “Write asnthough you were talking to me.” Andnagain. “Look on correspondence as anconversation not a diary.” His own lettersnillustrate his definition. CompletelynDr. Schwartz is professor of Englishnat Marquette University and editor ofnRenascence.n8nChronicles of Culturenthat France had, until the Encyclopedistsnand Philosophes appeared, indulgednmainly in torture, injustice andncrime. Russian intellectuals turnednagainst their backgrounds in the periodnfrom 1860 to 1917. with results thatnare now well-known. Europe indulgednin similar cynicism, especially in Germany,nin the 20’s. We seem to be goingnthrough a similar period: the UnitednStates is being held aloft for a universalnscorn. This scorn for the American heritagenhas been expressed by a numbernof American writers in recent years.nThat it is now joined by a popular Australiannnovelist means that the trend isnmoving across the entire English-speakingnworld. If historical precedents holdn— and God knows there is reason tonhope that they will not—then this periodnof cynicism will lead to deeper andndarker contemporary cynicism on officialnlevels. Keneally, therefore, is morenthan simply another trendy writer: henand his novel are possible omens ofntroubles to come. Dnunself-conscious, he does not have oneneye ogling the future. The letters arenimmediately present, full of gossip, somenverging on the incomprehensible; theynare characterized by wit, comedy andnsharpness of mind. Comparing him tonfamous self-conscious letter-writers ornto those who used the form for profunditiesnis pointless. Since he refusednto use the telephone, we have the letters—840nselected from some 5000.nAlthough the reader realizes it onlynafter he has finished the first quarternof the collection, the letters taken togethernform a kind of epistolary novel,nbut without a beginning, middle or end.nA true persona emerges, and his correspondents,nmany unknown to us now,ncome forth as characters. He bringsneverything to life. Laura, his secondnnn(and sainted) wife, will forever be belovednby all readers. The persona’s warmnaffection for his children is evident.nIntimate friends and more-intimatenfriends are easily distinguished by thentone he takes toward each. The scandalous,noutrageous manner becomes a fictionalndevice. And while there is somenthing for the critic who wants nonfictionalnconfirmation for matters innWaugh’s fiction, there is much less thannone would expect from a writer—lessnthan one gets, for instance, in the lettersnof Hart Crane. Waugh’s letters are thenmeans by which a private world was inventednin which good spirits, honestynand candor had their scope. Read in thatnspirit, the “novel” is zany, mad. illtempered,ncompassionate, brilliant and.nabove all, comic. I feel that I know thenpersona as well as any of the major charactersnin his fiction. Further, there isnthe delight of uncertainty; although Inmay be all wrong about Evelyn Waugh,nhaving met him only once, I am prettynconfident about “E,” “Evelyn” and “Bo.”nWaugh has been criticized for havingna standard of order, in which no one benlieves any more, by which he judged hisnage. The criticism implies that therenmay have been something wrong withnhim which might have been correctednbv a more contemporary standard. Thenoccasion of the publication of these lettersnand their pertinence to this issuenencourages me to take exactly the oppositenpoint of view. It was his antiquatednstandard of order, coupled with a scintillatingnstyle, which gave more thanntopical meaning to his novels. Most ofnhis fashionable contemporaries havenbeen forgotten. Of his generationnWaugh, Graham Greene, ElizabethnBowen and perhaps Henry Green arenmost likely to be remembered. Each ofnthem went against the grain of the age,nsome in ways quite different fromnWaugh. He had, however, the mostnsolid base upon which to plant the levernby which he moved his world. In hisnearly novels he perceived that the sensationalnand the bizarre, marks of a decadentnsocietv, were more than the resultsn