Even in Italy, where E. M. Forster had retreated earlier in the year to finish Howards End, the knock-on effects of Edward’s death were pronounced. In a letter to his friend Syed Ross Masood, he took aim at the English ladies who flocked to the shops of Florence in search of mourning apparel. ‘Masood, I am sick of these formalities,’ he wailed. ‘They are stifling all the heart out of life. Nothing but gossip & millinery, and all real feeling crushed into the background.’29 It was unsurprising that socialists and the intelligentsia should hold themselves aloof. What was surprising was the
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