This and That and the Other — A Reader’s Guide

The Preface as a Key to the Collection

Belloc’s preface is the most direct statement of the book’s method. He acknowledges the difficulty of unifying such diverse material and offers a mock-apology for “writing of so many things, and in very many different moods, and in so many different ways.” The preface also contains a list of recommended starting points: the essay on page forty-five, the history on page one hundred and forty-three, the denunciation on page one hundred and three, and the “sort of thing which Shakespeare suffered” on page one hundred and eighty-six. This list is not a reading order but a clue to the variety of modes—essay, history, polemic, literary parody—that the reader will encounter. The postscript’s confession that Belloc has never read a preface and expects the reader to skip this one reinforces the ironic, self-deprecating stance that recurs throughout the volume.

The River Adur: A Microcosm of Belloc’s Historical Method

In the essay on the River Adur, Belloc traces the stream’s transformations from Roman canalisation to Norman use, medieval fruitfulness, abandonment after the Middle Ages, and a late revival through railways and roads. He describes how the river was “half abandoned,” its course “checked by dense bush and reed,” and how it later powered hammer ponds for ironworking. The narrative is dense with specific detail: the wharf built by Knight Templars, the use of oaks for charcoal, the smithying of “guns also, and bells and railings for London.” Belloc’s personal involvement appears when he describes building a dam “with puddled clay behind oak boards and with huge oak uprights,” linking his own labour to the long chain of human effort. The essay ends with a declaration of intent: “It shall bring up properly to well-cut banks… It shall have clear depths of water… In every way it shall be what the things of this world were made to be—the servant and the instrument of Man.” This passage reveals Belloc’s belief in human dominion over nature, a theme that may colour other essays in the collection.

Parody and Play in “Some Letters of Shakespeare’s Time”

The excerpt from “Some Letters of Shakespeare’s Time” presents a fictional letter from “Lord Mulberry to his sister, Mrs. Blake.” The tone is deliberately anachronistic and comic: Lord Mulberry writes, “Yes, by all means tell your young friend Mr. Shakespeare that he can come to Paxton on Saturday… I don’t suppose he rides, but I can’t mount him anyhow.” The casual mention of Shakespeare as a young friend, combined with the mundane concerns of weekend visits and church attendance, creates a humorous collision between the grandeur of literary history and the trivialities of social life. This piece appears to be a parody of historical correspondence, and its placement late in the collection (chapter XXII) suggests that Belloc uses humour to offset the more serious or historical essays. The reader should approach this as a deliberate change of register, not as a factual reconstruction.

Voice and Address: The Recurring “You”

Across the excerpts, Belloc frequently addresses the reader directly. In the preface, he writes “you are not bound to buy, to borrow, or even to pick up this book. And even if you do you are not bound to read it.” In the Adur essay, he uses “you will allow me to be such an apologist for civilisation.” This direct address creates a conversational intimacy, as if the reader is being spoken to rather than simply reading. It also allows Belloc to shift tone abruptly—from earnest historical narrative to ironic aside—without losing coherence. The reader should pay attention to these moments of address, as they often signal a change in mood or a self-conscious commentary on the essay’s subject. The preface’s mock-serious recommendation of specific pages is another instance of this technique, inviting the reader to treat the book as a collection of discrete pieces rather than a unified work.

Because the excerpts are drawn from the beginning, middle, and end of the collection, they reveal Belloc’s range but not the full arc of the book. The reader should expect further shifts between historical reconstruction, personal reflection, satire, and polemic. The preface’s list of recommended pages may serve as a useful guide for sampling, but the book rewards reading in sequence, as Belloc’s voice and preoccupations—with history, with human labour, with the absurdities of modern life—recur and echo across the essays. Approach each piece on its own terms, and let the variety be the point.

Leafing through Belloc’s scattered pieces, that opening letter to a young diplomatist stayed with me—such a fragile, formal hope. It put me in mind of a quieter volume I once left on a windowsill, The Diplomatic Correspondence of the American Revolution, Vol. 01 — Background and Themes, where every careful sentence feels like a hand reaching across years, unsteadily, toward some understanding.