. : • 
 
 AXIMS
 
 •A 
 
 To. 
 
 i/f><x^-£*-ji &»i. 
 
 5^-^r— . '«, OLM, 7>,'t eM LM )i 
 
 i 
 
 ^>voV* 
 
 Jy, £~^, St/IX* ■
 
 VANITY FAIR 
 
 LONDON AUGUST 28 1912. 
 
 MEN OF THE DAY 
 
 No. 2287 
 CHARLES EDWARD JERNINGHAM 
 
 BORIS! eight-and-fifty years ago, the youngest son of the 
 late Charles William Jemingham, of Painswick 
 Hall, Gloucestershire, and a member of one of the 
 oldest Catholic families in the country, Charles Edward 
 Jerningham was originally destined for the Guards, receiv- 
 ing the last nomination for the Grenadiers before the intro- 
 duction of competitive examinations for co] issions in 
 
 ill ■ Army. 
 
 Having, however, devoted himself for several years to the 
 active and serious pursuit of 'society," he drifted into 
 journalism, commencing his career in the profession as a 
 contributor to Vaniti E \ii;. then owned and edited by the 
 founder of the paper, Mr. Thomas Gibson Bowles. 
 
 Transferring his services, he contributed to Truth the 
 
 ' Letter from the Linkman " over the signature " Marma- 
 
 duke." For two-and-twenty years, withoul the In-oak of 
 
 a single week, he never Tailed to amuse, instruct and 
 
 charm. 
 
 He lias published books, waltzes, and songs, presented 
 to the nation a collection of rare and unique prints of 
 London Royal parks, and Pounded several societies of a 
 nature more or less useful. The formation of the London 
 Museum, which is now one of the chief attractions of tin- 
 town, was his suggestion. 
 
 For art h ■ i os >ss< s a genuine enthusiasm, and has filled 
 
 his house w [th priceless treason s. 
 
 His epigrams are without number. A lew yon have road 
 in "'Maxims of Marmaduke." Others you will meel in 
 the drawing-room and at the dinner-table— wherever 
 choicest English is spoken and cherished. 
 
 A Tory by birth, a Radical by conviction, his political 
 sympathies arc so subtly blended thai to most Tories he 
 appears a Radical, to most Radicals a Tory. 
 
 • liau .li nior.
 
 >«Ud 'aeanft Puk gun* out. I ^°X 9l U 
 
 FEBRUARY 8, 1921. 
 
 'MARMADUKE'DEAD 
 
 GOSSIP WHOSE WIT WAS 
 WITHOUT STING. 
 
 There are many who tv-ILI feci sorry to- 
 day that " Marmaduke " is dead, although 
 they never met Mr. C. E. Jerningham and 
 'had perhaps never even heard the real 
 name of Truth's Linkman, famous for so 
 many years. He was the kindliest of 
 gossip-writers, the most generous of critics; 
 he made all his readers feci a friendship, 
 even affection, towards him. He was well 
 known among the West End clubs to such 
 an extent that he was described as ; ' the 
 clubman of clubmen." 
 
 A. younger son of a well-known, family, 
 he took to journalism by chance. In the 
 great days of Truth 
 M r . Laboueherc 
 wanted someone to 
 Write a social column 
 which would " snap 
 but not oting." Mr 
 Philip Stanhope, 
 now Lord Weardaie, 
 asked Mr. Jerning- 
 ham if he would care 
 to do it. The offer 
 was accepted, and for 
 22 years " Marma- 
 duke the Linkman " 
 kept up a weekly How 
 of wit and informa- 
 tion. In 1912 he re 
 signed from Truth to 
 beeom© editor of 
 Vanity Fair. But 
 
 that only lasted a MR.C.E. JERNINGHAM. 
 month or two. Later he was a contributor 
 to the London Evening News and for a 
 long time delighted the readers of that 
 paper. 
 
 His cheery outlook upon life and Ids 
 good will towards the men he knew are 
 finolv shown in the following letter written 
 
 J
 
 \l dABq b_>|UU(.[ A.ld^UU^ ol^ SJtS AU.U io'l|^UU-U Ub[B 
 
 - 
 
 i a.wqjj -innoiui: Aire .ioj pooS 's.is^Bra^ooq qqimiouoq 
 js^noq snicjuoo >auav[B qoiqM 'Sm.i .:qi in ss; uisnq siq 
 uop 9Aisq o\ jqSno .nq.nuc ptre 'iiiuu Sniijooqs 'uimr.oiipuuq 
 fqjj T * ull P SIAV -iq.oi.i qu ., jsjj'E .i< [[toiled ireqq pug jou 
 |iioo 'sy.moo jo 'pire 'asjnoo aqj uu A^ooq &pis^no a.i^a g qqvv 
 =aos aioj b jo ; unj r-qj oq ji poqouq A"[qsqooj 9q 'ui padraoi 
 ano oj. xts re .oiiii.aus -qoiqw 'jamnM B .ouuj'kIs '"'inn^q 
 aoqB s^op gq uuqj diqstreraas.ioq pin: s; sioq uioqi: 9.10111 aej 
 s\om\ oqw in tu-uo<K e SaiOBJ ju-a\ siaq:j £ep igq^o sqp 
 
 ■saaNNiA\ DNi33vg 
 
 ; ii. q . .iv. \\ .. oi treeas^iods .>qi ssAOqaq \i '%xou Atp 
 nq\; ao •• \i<q. .u>qA\ :-m| 9S( qi in pijuu-qd oo!) duoa 'spxrq 
 ljrim: - q [i: luq aV.iS aqj puv. jpoo jpejq aqj, 'jaaj OOF' I 
 l iaaj 000 caoij 50 ; pnnqc uc jo 'suA\op aijoj pm: sqiq 
 qi 10 xni:. n^l'I po;i!A9{9 no v.rh:q.i^q ptre Sjirefd 
 in; - 1 j.h[}0 pun sqniqs A'.uaqrqj.ioqAv jo £i9u.99i$ di\\ 
 
 ire '- - 3 paino|6o aiiv.ui 'esioS avo^a 'asqireaq 9fdmd 
 sptare ptmoj o.iv. saooni aiajsa \y aqi jo sun^ >p<qq oqj, 
 luaiuuojiAu^ jo '.ilirunnjiti jo aosBaa Aq '.i9p.io .--uubiuo.i 
 aora jo si 'asnaiS ps.t jo req} o>{q 'gnreS ^ptqq jo Suiijooqs 
 i[X "iimn-qia^o A.unno.> £i8A9 oj [Badcre pire 'qsqSag 
 
 qiMItfw 9JB §OT!)00qS-8§pTJ!)J , Bd »I [EIO^SBd '] I-"!iq(T sqj, 
 
 - .iiiMiiiinu • nutiooi[<-..r:pi.u.m(I sp. 
 [9M SB '.oiqiooqs snreS 5[0Bjq u3i[i ^u qoiUTisiMH -pinqoinq jo 
 - \ am m isn.q- 9Tqnonr 'e si 'o oi -abpiiotv stitt -sjBoqTjjao 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 m\VV r ORNlA
 
 >bu<£ 'aeanh Pv.* Suiv OPT. I + uy .M HL it 
 
 FEBRUARY 8, 1921. 
 
 'MARMADUKFDEAD 
 
 GOSSIP WHOSE WIT WAS 
 WITHOUT STING. 
 
 There are many who Trill feel sorry to- 
 day that "Marmaduke " is dead, although 
 H»ey never met Mr. C. L. Jeruinghaui and 
 had perhaps never even heard the real 
 name of Truth's Linkman, famous for so 
 many years. He was the kindliest of 
 gossip-Vriters, the most generous of critics; 
 he made all his readers feel a friendship, 
 even affection, towards him. He was well 
 known among the West End clubs to eueh 
 an extent that lie was described aa ; ' the 
 clubman of clubmen. " 
 
 A. younger son of a well-known family, 
 he took to journalism by chance. In the 
 great days of Truth 
 M r . Laboueheie 
 wanted someone to 
 write a social column 
 which would " snap 
 but not sting." Mr 
 Philip Stanhope, 
 now Lord Weardaie, 
 asked Mr. Jerning- 
 ham if he would care 
 to do it. The offer 
 was accepted, and for 
 22 years " Marma- 
 duke the Linkman " 
 kept up a weekly llow 
 of wit and informa- 
 tion. In 1912 he re 
 signed from Truth to 
 become editor ox 
 Vanity Fair. But 
 
 that onlv lasted a MR.C.E. JERNINGKAM. 
 month or two. Later he was a contributor 
 to the London Evening ^.ews and for a 
 long time delighted the readers of that 
 paper. 
 
 His cheerv outlook upon life and his 
 good will towards the men he knew are 
 finoiv shown in the following letter written 
 
 I
 
 " YANITY FAIK » TJ5DER 
 A NEW EDITOR. 
 
 ' Marmaduke's '* Romantic Re- 
 turn to Active Journalism. 
 
 There is a touch of romance in the an- 
 nouncement made yesterday that Mr. C. E. 
 Jerningham, the famous society journalist, 
 has accepted the editorship of '" Vanity 
 Fair." As a young man he wavered be- 
 tween a commission in the Guards and the 
 less-fettered occupation of a free-lance. 
 Eventually the pen conquered the sword, 
 ■nd he became a contributor to " Vanitv 
 rair. " J 
 
 . His first literary effort appeared in that 
 journal in 1885, when it was under the con- 
 trol of Mr. "Tommy" Bowles, but some 
 tive years later Mr. Jerningham was induced 
 to join the staff of "Truth." Until 
 a tew weeks ago his series of weekly letters 
 over the signature of " Marmaduke " in the 
 late Mr. Labouchere's organ were a unique 
 feature of contemporary Journalism, and 
 on his resignation recently his friends un- 
 derstood that he had definitely renounced 
 journalism for the more leisurely pursuits 
 pt writing books and composing music. It 
 is peculiarly appropriate that he should re- 
 turn to direct the paper which printed his 
 earlier contributions. 
 
 When a representative of " The Daily 
 Chronicle' called on Mr. Jerningham at 
 his residence in an old-world Kensington 
 crescent, he was reading some of the MSS. 
 which will assist in making the contents of 
 Vanity P air " for October 2-the issue 
 with which he begins his editorial functions 
 —memorable in every way. He stated that 
 not a hne would be printed that was not 
 original and he has gathered about him a 
 corps of well-informed, cultivated writers 
 of social distinction. 
 
 " Vanity Fair," said the new editor, " will 
 be written by people in society. Its tone 
 will be satirical and witty, not bitter. We 
 sha not attack anybody maliciously, we 
 shall not publish scandal. If we tilt against 
 anything it will be such things as bad To™ 
 littlenesses, and foibles and fallacies. There 
 will be several fresh features, but the cele- 
 brated cartoon is to be retained. I want 
 
 -nd \T%r i° appea L to ever ^ gentleman 
 ana to offend no one.
 
 THE MAXIMS OF 
 MARMADUKE 
 
 BY (4//W- / wv\J2-> > 
 CHARLES EDWARD JERNINGHAM 
 
 "MARMADUKE"" 
 
 METHUEN & CO. 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 
 
 LONDON
 
 First Published in jqoc) 
 
 r R-fc
 
 TO 
 
 THE RIGHT HON. HENRY LABOUCHERE
 
 This collection of Epigrams and Essays is 
 reprinted from the contributions of the Author, 
 over the signature of " Marmaduke," in Truth, 
 with the kind permission of the Editor of the 
 paper.
 
 MAXIMS OF MARMADUKE 
 
 MAXIMS 
 
 We all think ourselves best — but we expect 
 others to be better. 
 
 The French are more immodest than immoral ; 
 the English more immoral than immodest. 
 
 He who is drunk in a first-class carriage has had 
 a fit; he who has a fit in a third-class is drunk. 
 
 Almost every Englishman imagines he is moral 
 because he objects to immorality — in others.
 
 It is not our bitter enemies that do us the most 
 harm ; it is our bitter friends. 
 
 When two laugh it is certain a misfortune has 
 happened— to a third. 
 
 The misfortunes of our neighbours are invari- 
 ably judgments — our own, excessive and unmerited 
 trials. 
 
 ^o ^> 
 
 Superior knowledge is a mistake ; that which 
 rules the world is superior ignorance. 
 
 It is not the mischievous that do the most 
 harm : it is the mistaken. 
 
 The importance of anything in this world is 
 precisely the importance which we attach to it 
 ourselves. 
 
 2
 
 The men who love woman seldom love women ; 
 those who love women seldom love woman. 
 
 A man never takes so much care of himself as 
 he does when he has a woman to take care of him. 
 
 There are few Englishmen now who have a 
 library in them ; many who have ledgers. 
 
 It is not the woman man can be rich with 
 who is the most companionable, but the woman 
 he can be poor with. 
 
 Never mix your women. 
 
 Never lay others under an obligation ; it gene- 
 rally obliges them to detest you. 
 
 3
 
 When we talk of the world we always talk of 
 our neighbour. 
 
 Man is the Lord of Creation ; woman, the Lady 
 of Recreation. 
 
 No respectable woman has a lover until she 
 has a husband. 
 
 Poverty is to happiness what appetite is to 
 food — poverty enables us to enjoy the simplest 
 pleasures ; appetite, the simplest fare. 
 
 It is a great privilege to be able to enjoy the 
 bread-and-cheese of life — the simple pleasures, of 
 which there are so many. 
 
 Woman often feigns love ; man, oftener, 
 passion.
 
 In England, for the poor there arc the Ten 
 Commandments • for the rich, the Upper-Ten 
 Commandments. 
 
 In France, a man must be a woman's man to 
 be a man's man ; in England, he must be a 
 man's man to be a woman's. 
 
 o *^> 
 
 To be happy you must be your own sunshine. 
 
 Happiness is like warmth ; the best form of 
 it is that which arises from ourselves. 
 
 Forget your troubles, and the world will soon 
 forget you ever had any. 
 
 Genius is Nature's millionaire. 
 
 Genius is an infinite capacity for overcoming 
 the opposition of mediocrities. 
 
 5
 
 Life is like walking through Paradise with peas 
 in your shoes. 
 
 -o *^> 
 
 Taste is the sense of the appropriate. 
 
 <^y ^> 
 
 Tact is the sense of the opportune. 
 
 ^y *o 
 
 Success amounts to little ; if you succeed, you 
 merely turn your friends into enemies, and your 
 enemies into friends. 
 
 *^> *o 
 
 If you wish to be thought white, call others 
 black. 
 
 <o ^> 
 
 It is a sign of mediocrity to have settled 
 opinions on unsettled subjects. 
 
 6
 
 Philosophy enables us to bear with resignation 
 -the afflictions of others. 
 
 ^> *o 
 
 The world is a looking-glass ; it reflects — 
 yourself. 
 
 •^> *o 
 
 Most women go to church to attract men ; and 
 to distract each other. 
 
 The ordinary English man and woman, when 
 they go to France, look upon it as a holiday 
 trip around the improper. 
 
 The man-of-the-world attaches little import- 
 ance even to great things, but understands that 
 others attach great importance even to little 
 things. 
 
 7
 
 Wisdom is the perception of the unimportance 
 of the things we call great, and of the importance 
 
 of the things we call small. 
 
 No woman is so good as she looks ; to know 
 that is the first step towards the attainment of 
 knowledge of the world. 
 
 The next, to know that few men are so bad 
 as they seem. 
 
 It is much easier to tell a woman you love 
 her when you do not than when you do. 
 
 This is the Age of the Linendraper's Venus. 
 
 «^> *c> 
 
 The best way to secure revenge is not to 
 make your enemy fail, but to succeed yourself. 
 
 8
 
 We never forgive those who cannot hurt us. 
 
 The Power of the future is poverty ; combined 
 poverty. 
 
 Progress is civilisation on the march. 
 ^> ^> 
 
 Those who have humour we laugh at and 
 like ; those who have wit we laugh with and 
 fear. 
 
 There is a time in youth when instinct asserts 
 itself over instruction ; that is the period of 
 danger. 
 
 •^- <^ 
 
 Frequently, the extraordinary man is only the 
 ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances. 
 
 9
 
 Cleverness without self-confidence will scarcely 
 bleat ; self-confidence without cleverness will roar 
 so that to most it appears a lion. 
 
 *^> -c> 
 
 It has been a Piccadilly proverb from time 
 immemorial, that the younger sons should live 
 on the State, the eldest on the estate. 
 
 ^> 'Qy 
 
 Few learn from experience, all from example. 
 
 ^> *o 
 
 Wisdom is as much a quality of the tempera- 
 ment as of the intelligence. 
 
 All is possible to woman, for woman alone may 
 make herself impossible. 
 
 The English distrust the clever ; they conceive 
 that cleverness is next to ungodliness. 
 
 10
 
 Woman is the social barometer ; she is an 
 admirably contrived instrument for gauging— the 
 defects of her generation. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 The more imperfect woman becomes, the more 
 perfect she insists that man should be ; the more 
 she assumes the vices, the more man is to 
 abandon them. 
 
 -^> ^> 
 
 No woman has faith in another ; but each 
 insists that man should have faith in herself. 
 
 Bringing home a heart is a great joy ; we call 
 that love. Some look upon it as a form of sport ; 
 we call that flirting. 
 
 It is a new contention of woman here that she 
 is too good to be — true ! 
 
 r i
 
 You must talk to a man's intelligence; to a 
 woman's inclination. 
 
 *o ^ 
 
 Woman is like a diamond with many facets : 
 the imagination of man, the light which produces 
 from them innumerable permutations and combi- 
 nations of colour. The character of woman is 
 comparatively simple, but man imagines much and 
 attributes it to her. 
 
 ^> <^ 
 
 There is none that suspects her husband more 
 than the wife who is not above suspicion herself. 
 
 Woman wants to conquer the world that sees 
 her ; man, the world he sees. 
 
 In these days in England a husband is not 
 altogether useless ; he is an excuse for almost any 
 misconduct. 
 
 I 2
 
 Marriage is a curious institution ; it affords an 
 opportunity to man to cultivate all the virtues — 
 to woman, all the vices. 
 
 *o *o 
 
 When a man gives to a woman because it pleases 
 her to receive, he is not necessarily in love ; when 
 he gives because it pleases him to give, he is. 
 
 ^> ^y 
 
 The good man seldom discovers the bad there 
 is in woman ; the bad, seldom discovers the good. 
 
 ^> *v> 
 
 Woman's most valuable asset is — the imagina- 
 
 tion of man. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 If man had less sense of consequences he could 
 do much; if woman had more sense of conse- 
 quences she could do little.
 
 Man more often marries not because he is in 
 love with the woman, but because he is in love 
 with the opportunity of marrying. 
 
 There are the man of a world, the man of the 
 world, and the man of the best world ; the last 
 alone it is correct to describe as " A man of the 
 world." 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 The ordinary man is at home in his own sur- 
 roundings ; the man of the world in all. 
 
 *c> 
 
 In England, all are educated now, except the 
 educated classes. 
 
 The " lower," the "middle," and the "upper" 
 classes in England should respectively be re-named 
 the educated, the highly-educated, and the highly 
 uneducated. 
 
 14
 
 Every Englishman and Englishwoman is indi- 
 vidually an island ; there is the disagreeable 
 channel which separates them all — that crossed, 
 there may be the fog ! 
 
 A gilded youth with a re-gilded old age is the 
 dream of the " upper-class " prodigal. 
 
 It is contended that the "middle class" is the 
 backbone of this country ; to continue the com- 
 parison, dissolute Belgravia may be described as 
 the loose flesh. 
 
 The men of the " upper-class " in England are 
 educated to be " gentlemen " ; the men of the 
 " middle-class " are educated to become " gentle- 
 men." 
 
 It has been said by a witty Frenchwoman of 
 the English : " When you come to Paris you visit 
 
 r 5
 
 our vices ; when we go to London we visit your 
 
 virtues." 
 
 -<^> <^y 
 
 The Middle Ages have been replaced by the 
 
 Middle-class Ages. 
 
 <i. *o 
 
 A "Smart" Woman— A woman who main- 
 tains her reputation at the expense of her character. 
 
 The Angel Actress is a special product of the 
 day, and of this country. There are still some 
 narrow-minded English men and women who 
 imagine an actress has a second-class soul in a 
 first-class skin, and that her complexion is more 
 precious to her than her character. 
 
 So many actresses are becoming peeresses that 
 the aristocracy of this country should soon be 
 known as the actressocracy. 
 
 1 6
 
 We now treat our actresses as ladies ; our ladies 
 as actresses. 
 
 The ordinary Englishman is a man of few 
 words ; and these are generally disagreeable. 
 
 ^> *^> 
 
 This is the Age of the well-fed ill-bred. 
 
 The proprieties are the principles of " society " ; 
 beyond them are peculiarities. 
 
 The English are divided into three classes : 
 there are the aspiring and the perspiring ; the 
 middle class is composed of those who both aspire 
 and perspire. 
 
 ^> *o 
 
 In England we are all "ladies" and "gentle- 
 men " now ; except the ladies and gentlemen 
 themselves. 
 
 c 17
 
 The perfection of good manners is never to be 
 unintentionally annoying. 
 
 It would appear that to be a " gentleman " con- 
 sists not so much in behaving as a gentleman 
 should, but in misbehaving as a "gentleman" 
 does. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 We cross the stream of life at different places. 
 Some wade through the shallows in a drought, 
 others have to swim across deep waters in a 
 storm. 
 
 We say nothing but good of the dead — for we 
 have exhausted our stock of evil of them when 
 they were living. It is a relief no longer to have 
 to strain our ill-nature. 
 
 We must be very intimate with another to really 
 enjoy his — misfortunes. 
 
 18
 
 The reader of the past required a book to " pick 
 up " ; the reader of the present requires a book 
 "to put down." 
 
 *^x ^ 
 
 All who have made a noise in the world have 
 had the little dogs bark at their heels. 
 
 *C> "v^y 
 
 The fool succeeds where the wise man fails — for 
 the former, generally, has the courage of his folly ; 
 the latter, the fear of his wisdom. 
 
 ^O ^v> 
 
 The tyranny of the strong is being replaced by 
 the tyranny of the weak ; the latter threatens to 
 be the worse of the two. 
 
 ^> ^>- 
 
 There are two forces which cause modern 
 England to move : a crisis and a craze. 
 
 19
 
 It is a poor triumph that has none to share it ; 
 a great grief that has none to halve it. 
 
 *o ^> 
 
 Touch an American, and there is an outburst ; 
 touch an Englishman, there is an official corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 *0 -Qy 
 
 Conversation is listening to yourself in the 
 presence of others. 
 
 *o *o 
 
 Worldly Wisdom. — The knowledge of how to 
 misconduct yourself respectably. 
 
 *o ^> 
 
 Love. — A sentiment we all entertain for our- 
 selves, and occasionally imagine others enter- 
 tain for us. 
 
 These are the days of seventy horse-power 
 
 20
 
 unscrupulousness ; the product of the condition 
 is the quick-made millionaire. 
 
 -^ "\> 
 
 It is good to be rich, for to the rich are, 
 generally, attributed the best motives ; to the 
 poor, the worst. 
 
 ^> -'Qv 
 
 If the poor do much for the rich, the rich think 
 it little ; if the rich do a little for the poor, the 
 poor think it much. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 The troubles of the poor are seldom so intoler- 
 able as are the annoyances of the rich. 
 
 How happy would he be who should combine 
 the advantages of wealth with the compensations 
 of poverty ! 
 
 Luxury is a harder master than necessity. 
 
 21
 
 Hand-to-mouth poverty is bad, but hand-to- 
 mouth luxury is worse; the latter has many of 
 the evils of the former in addition to its own. 
 
 -Qy "Cv 
 
 There is the Old and the New Vulgarity. The 
 old was the worship of the established ; the new 
 is the struggle to establish ourself. 
 
 ^> x o 
 
 We insist that " money is the root of all evil," 
 and behave as if it were the source of all good. 
 
 ^> *v> 
 
 " A rolling stone gathers no moss ; " it gathers 
 gloss, however — which is considered to be alto- 
 gether preferable in these days. 
 
 ^v> ^> 
 
 The most barbarous punishment of the time is 
 to be torn to pieces by wild editors. 
 
 22
 
 The House of Lords is composed of men who 
 represent themselves ; the House of Commons, 
 of men who misrepresent others. 
 
 ^2y -^> 
 
 Genius is a combination of aspiration and in- 
 spiration. 
 
 "O ^> 
 
 Ability will out — in England, generally, at the 
 elbows. 
 
 Too many interests spoil the brain. 
 
 Circumstances are always stronger than com- 
 bination. 
 
 Before forty we live forwards ; after forty we live 
 backwards. 
 
 2 3
 
 Dress well, even if you have to do so at your 
 tailor's expense, is one of the unuttered maxims 
 of Mayfair. 
 
 Were it not for the misfortunes of our neigh- 
 bours, life would be positively unbearable. 
 
 There is no impertinence like the impertinence 
 of mediocrity. 
 
 It is almost everything to have the courage of 
 our opportunities. 
 
 o ^> 
 
 The fallen tree is soon stripped. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 Nourish the roots, and the flower will flourish. 
 
 Marriage is very good for children — it keeps 
 them out of mischief. 
 
 24
 
 Our predecessors endeavoured to make men 
 into machines ; we are endeavouring to make 
 machines into men. 
 
 Rely less on Dreadnoughts ; more on peram- 
 bulators — a well-conditioned, well-educated child- 
 multitude will, eventually, enrich and enlarge the 
 Empire more than would innumerable Dread- 
 noughts. 
 
 ^> <z> 
 
 The bath-chair governed the world ; it is now 
 the perambulator. 
 
 Earnestness, Energy, Enterprise — these are the 
 Dreadnoughts that England most needs. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 It is not men that make movements in Eng- 
 land now, but movements that make the men. 
 
 2 5
 
 There are the inevitable virtues of old age. 
 o ^> 
 
 We live so fast now that conscience cannot 
 overtake us. 
 
 Every generation is " modern " in its turn, but 
 ours is modern at every turn. 
 
 The New World is no longer only on the other 
 side of the Atlantic ; it is a new world everywhere 
 to-day. 
 
 ^> *o 
 
 All carry with them the atmosphere of those 
 they frequent — especially men. 
 
 *o ^> 
 
 Enemies are stimulants ; friends, bromide — very 
 lowering. 
 
 26
 
 America is educating Europe ; Europe is culti- 
 
 vating America. 
 
 ^y -<^y 
 
 We generally turn the sunny side of our 
 character towards the public ; the shady side 
 towards home. Were the process reversed, life 
 would be much more happy than it is. 
 
 "v^y *^> 
 
 Few adjust themselves correctly to their focus. 
 To be too close to others blurs delicate charac- 
 teristics ; to be too far off, dims. 
 
 Life is a short and uncertain period in which 
 we continually endeavour to deceive others, and 
 generally deceive ourselves. 
 
 If you want poetry, look for it in the prosaic, in 
 those who feel that which they cannot express, 
 not in those who express that which they do 
 not feel. 
 
 27
 
 Dress has been given to woman to conceal her 
 defects. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 When young we imagine the world is at our 
 feet ; when old we perceive we have been at the 
 feet of the world. 
 
 ^o ^> 
 
 How generous we feel towards others when we 
 want something ourselves ! 
 
 ^v> ^> 
 
 Conscience is a delicate instrument for weighing 
 the failings — of others. 
 
 *o ^> 
 
 Many imagine they are making a future when 
 they are only making a past. 
 
 ^> *^y 
 
 There is no extravagance like poverty. 
 
 28
 
 There are none so stupid as the clever, and none 
 so clever as the stupid. 
 
 ^s^- *0 
 
 There are good-bad people and there are bad- 
 good people ; the latter are especially dangerous. 
 
 *c^ ^* 
 
 The wisdom of youth lacks confidence in self ; 
 the wisdom of age lacks confidence in others. 
 
 " No man is a hero to his valet," but many a 
 man is a valet to his hero. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 Consideration for others is often a form of 
 cowardice. 
 
 Pit cleverness against character ; character wins. 
 
 29
 
 There is much to desire in the world, but little 
 to admire. 
 
 It is not so much we that make our reputation 
 as it is others that make it for us. 
 
 We magnify pain when it is present and 
 minimise pleasure ; we magnify pleasure when 
 it is past and minimise pain. 
 
 ^^ ^> 
 
 There is no better interest than interest in 
 another. 
 
 We hate less those we see through than those 
 that see through us. 
 
 He is unfortunate indeed whose good fortune 
 leads him to misfortune ; fortunate is he whose 
 ill-fortune leads to good fortune. 
 
 3°
 
 Much heart and little brains is almost as 
 pernicious as much brains and little heart. 
 
 *c> ^> 
 
 There is more heart in the world than head ; 
 intellect only appeals to intellect ; the heart 
 to humanity. 
 
 *o ^> 
 
 Beware of the rich ; the poor will do much for 
 money ; the rich will do anything for more 
 money. 
 
 The successful draw us up to their level ; the 
 unsuccessful, down to theirs. 
 
 There is the equity of iniquity ; a certain fairness 
 in judging others which is seldom exercised by the 
 just. 
 
 3 1
 
 No woman is complete without virtue ; and few 
 women think a man complete without vice. 
 
 <^y *C^x 
 
 At the bottom of it, it is not more comfort we 
 strive for, but more consideration. 
 
 "Cv ^> 
 
 Well-bred incivility should seldom exceed the 
 limit of delicate inattentions. 
 
 The great advantage to man in marriage is that 
 it protects him from his pleasures. 
 
 Good manners come from the heart, not from 
 the head. 
 
 Men generally love gold for the evil they can do 
 with it ; seldom for the good. 
 
 3 2
 
 B. is a born courtier ; he is one of Nature's 
 gentlemen's gentlemen. 
 
 -Qy 'O 
 
 It is through the innocent failings that the 
 skilful lead men — and mislead women. 
 
 ^> ^> 
 
 A good vice is the best qualification for good 
 fellowship. 
 
 *C> ^> 
 
 There are two varieties of clever people : the 
 clever and the too clever. 
 
 'Qy -^> 
 
 Let others talk, and they will certainly agree 
 with that which you have not said. 
 
 *o ^v> 
 
 Originally an animal, man has been improved 
 by circumstances, and may eventually develop 
 into a perfect beast. 
 
 >» 33
 
 ESSAYS
 
 ESSAYS 
 
 FLOATING down the river of life through the 
 bewitching scenery of spring, summer, 
 autumn, and winter, I have gathered by the way 
 many impressions, many memories, much experi- 
 ence, and a few friends. But mine is not a tale 
 that has to be told, for the skiff which carries me 
 is of insufficient consequence to attract or to 
 attempt considerable adventures. 
 
 Life is distressing insomuch as we give exag- 
 gerated importance to altogether unimportant 
 matters. Drifting along, I have observed that we 
 men and women disturb ourselves about trifles, 
 overlooking in the needless excitement the 
 innumerable beauties which wait upon the way. 
 Every ripple is not a wave, every wind is not 
 a hurricane. Why worry whilst we are still upon 
 the stream ? It will be time enough to trouble 
 when we meet the sea. Happiness does not 
 depend upon surroundings, but upon disposition. 
 As we pass by the fertile plains where those 
 Phrynes, the poppies, blush in patches amidst 
 
 37
 
 the honest yellow corn and the heat shimmers 
 over the fields, we are happy ; but when we come 
 to where the dismal pines clustering upon either 
 bank close out the light, why sorrow ? Silence is 
 the music of solitude. The shower freshens the 
 foliage ; there is grandeur in the storm. 
 
 Ambition excites antagonism. Many are 
 happier who go drifting down some unfrequented 
 tributary than they who, gaily decked, sail along 
 the middle stream. If our small skiff only pro- 
 duces a purling ripple as it breasts the waters, is 
 this not better than to cast up boisterous waves in 
 our wake as we hasten onwards? 
 
 The flowers of fashion have but fickle friends ; 
 they are the freak of the moment, much prized 
 to-day, the more despised to-morrow. We are 
 being borne through foreign lands towards an 
 unknown port. Amidst all the music and the 
 colour of nature, the splendour of the scenery, the 
 perfume of the flowers, and the varying tempers of 
 the skies, there is nothing so bewildering as the 
 sound of the human note, the whisper in the 
 stillness of the kindred spirit. I wander and 
 I wonder. The world is so beautiful, and yet 
 . . . why are we not happy ? 
 
 33
 
 The Skull at Christie's -o -o o 
 
 IT was only a skull at Christie's. There were 
 exhibited upon the walls around, pictures 
 by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Landseer, Gainsborough, 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence, and others. In the centre 
 of the room was scattered a miscellaneous 
 assortment of old armour, furniture, bric-a-brac 
 of various kinds, together with a chaotic heap 
 of studio " properties " belonging formerly to 
 some deceased artist. Prominent amongst these 
 promiscuous curios was — a human skull. 
 
 I took it up. 
 
 " Here, drop that," the skull unexpectedly 
 exclaimed. 
 
 Mightily startled at this, I obeyed, and has- 
 tened to apologise for the familiarity. 
 
 Mollified by my excuses the skull continued — 
 
 " What is it all about ? Where ami?" 
 
 39
 
 " These are the celebrated auction-rooms, and 
 we are examining the curiosities that are to be 
 sold." 
 
 " Gad ! sir ! you do not mean to tell me they 
 are going to sell my skull ? " 
 
 I civilly intimated this appeared to be prob- 
 able. 
 
 The skull seemed amazed. 
 
 " Sell my head ! Odds Bodkins ! But I was 
 a man of quality in my own day." 
 
 "Very likely," I replied; "but quantity not 
 quality commands respect now." 
 
 " This is outrageous ! I was a gentleman, I 
 tell you.'' 
 
 "So I understood you to say. They are all 
 gentlemen now — except the gentlemen them- 
 selves." 
 
 After a pause, the skull continued: "And 
 who are these astonishing people around? It 
 looks like an irruption from the housekeeper's 
 room masquerading in their master's finery." 
 
 " You are pleased to be severe. This is a 
 representative gathering of the aristocracy of 
 the day. Honestly or otherwise these people 
 have amassed fortunes, and with them they 
 
 40
 
 purchase everything, be it curios or coronets, 
 reputation or the relics of a bygone age." Then, 
 with a sudden access of malice, "They are 
 going to buy your skull. With ruby glass 
 fitted into the sockets and an incandescent 
 lamp concealed inside, together with a few 
 flowers and ferns arranged around, you might 
 be decorative. Or, they may bury you, and 
 erecting a pretentious monument over this 
 remnant of your remains, transform you into a 
 venerated ancestor." 
 
 The poor skull was utterly stupefied at the 
 suggestion. 
 
 "This is the greatest misfortune," it said, 
 "which has occurred to me since my death. 
 Could you not buy me yourself, and hide me 
 in some ditch ? " 
 
 " Quite impossible. I am as powerless as 
 you are. They have long since robbed me not 
 only of my property, but of my consequence, 
 privileges, and even of my reputation." 
 
 " Zounds ! I wish I were alive again, that 
 I might drive them back to their proper place." 
 
 " You would do nothing of the sort, my 
 poor friend; on the contrary, you would be as 
 
 4i
 
 obsequious as we are. You would eat their 
 dinners, make love to their wives, and generally 
 cringe before them precisely as we do." 
 
 It irritates me to see people laugh. To be 
 cheerful is so particularly vulgar, it is almost as 
 inexcusable as being intelligent. The way the 
 skull laughed at the suggestion made me furious. 
 I determined upon revenge. 
 
 " Did you not say just now that when alive 
 you had been a person of consequence ? " 
 
 "The name I bore then was Lord " 
 
 " Ha, ha, my friend," I interrupted, with 
 fiendish triumph, " we have fairly caught you. 
 This shall be made public, and they will then 
 sell you at a great price for exportation to 
 America. They dote upon Lords over there — 
 even the odds and ends of them." 
 
 With a yell of anguish the skull absolutely 
 collapsed at this. 
 
 42
 
 Recipes ^> <^ -<o ^> -^ <^v 
 
 M 
 
 AN is a cooking animal. Civilised man 
 cooks everything — even his accounts. 
 For this reason, the following simple recipes 
 may be of interest. 
 
 To make a Modern English Gentlewoman 
 
 Take an American, one part lady, two parts 
 adventuress, dress extravagantly ; plunge into 
 millionaire society ; let simmer for several 
 seasons; then add a titled husband. 
 
 To make a Modern English Gentleman 
 
 Wash a large, red stock-jobber ; brush and 
 trim ; baste all over with money ; arrange in a 
 luxurious West-end house, surround with "puff"- 
 
 43
 
 paste ; then serve up hot. Will keep for 
 months. 
 
 To make a Fashionable Entertainment 
 
 Put into a few small rooms some three hundred 
 over-dressed men and under-dressed women, a 
 minor Royalty, and two or three alien million- 
 aires; sprinkle over a teaspoonful of principle, 
 a quarter of a teaspoonful of good breeding, 
 and a tablespoonful of pretension ; then add 
 music, supper, and champagne. Let the whole 
 stew gradually. 
 
 To mark a " Devil " 
 
 First catch a gentleman, then fleece him ; 
 stir up continually with writs ; strain through 
 the Bankruptcy (Joint, then put into the City. 
 
 To make a Literary Celebrity 
 
 Half-educate a vain youth at Oxford ; let hair 
 grow; dip into erotic French literature; add 
 one idea, chop it small; "log-roll" the whole. 
 
 44
 
 Give a grotesque name, then serve up as a 
 rival to Milton, Sheridan, and Shakespeare. 
 
 To make an Art Critic 
 
 Open the top and extract the intelligence of 
 a raw Brixton boy; fill up with self conceit ; 
 clean, brush, and trim; rub against a handful 
 of similar obscure and inexperienced lads ; add 
 a glass of cheap claret on Press view days, then 
 serve up cold in the columns of the fenny 
 Autocrat. A meagre dish. 
 
 45
 
 The New Treatment ^ *o -v> 
 
 ^TOTHING old is true; nothing new is 
 ^ good ! 
 In this unsettled condition we must reconsider 
 the things that are about us. 
 
 Fine feathers, they say, make fine women. No 
 woman can be fine who is not healthy. There- 
 fore, finery is the right cure for the female. That 
 is the theory; now for the practice. 
 
 Case I. — Mrs. A. B . Ordinary but 
 
 intractable neurosis. Old treatment : valerian, 
 asafcetida, change and rest. 
 
 Prescribed a new bonnet. Within half an 
 hour all uneasiness was removed and the patient 
 recovered sufficiently to proceed to her milliner's. 
 
 46
 
 Cask II. — Lady Z . Acute nephritis with 
 
 suppurative phlebitis. 
 
 After exhaustive examination prescribed a new 
 dress. Treatment instantaneously successful. 
 
 Case III. — Mrs. D . Primary spastic 
 
 paraplegia with bilateral athetosis. Old treat- 
 ment : two medical advisers and a specialist. 
 
 Recommended a sapphire necklace. The 
 trinket having been procured, slowly trailed it 
 across the coverlet below the patient's eyes. 
 Almost at once the distressing conditions sub- 
 sided, and, though weak, in a day or two 
 
 Mrs. I) was enabled to attend a private 
 
 dance to display the ornament to her numerous 
 admiring friends. 
 
 Case IV. — Mrs. S . Syncope, pachy- 
 meningitis, fracture-dislocation of the spinal 
 column, diphtheritic laryngitis, ulcerative endo- 
 carditis, and cerebral thrombosis. Patient dead. 
 Exceedingly interesting case. Old treatment : 
 undertaker and a fashionable funeral. 
 
 Prescribed a diamond tiara. Exposed the 
 jewel at the foot of the open coffin, but the 
 
 47
 
 ornament being composed only of off-coloured 
 Cape stones, experiment ineffectual. 
 
 Tried again later with a tiara of splendid old 
 
 Indian diamonds. In a few minutes Mrs. S 
 
 resuscitated, slowly arose, and, grasping the 
 jewel, commenced to try effects. 
 
 Followed up the treatment, as a sedative, 
 with complete renewal of the patient's wardrobe, 
 concluding with a box at the Opera as a tonic. 
 
 Mrs. S cured. The fees in the case have 
 
 not yet been paid. 
 
 48
 
 The Autobiography of an Aristocrat 
 
 '"^PHE Autobiography of an Aristocrat" is 
 J- an especially interesting document : — 
 
 "I am a superfluous child; a younger son. 
 
 " My harmless and necessary parents belonged 
 to the original aristocracy, and the best. 
 
 " My father was a most inoffensive pauper ; 
 well-bred and ill-read. He led a life of strenuous 
 idleness, and was an express-gossip. 
 
 " My mother was a hard-working peeress, who 
 had a commanding upper part with extensive 
 frontage, and possessed a good grave-side 
 manner. She was always preoccupied with 
 homespun sorrows. 
 
 " So dismal were my parents that the wits 
 of the time described our home as a popular 
 suicide resort. 
 
 e 49
 
 " For years my sisters dragged every drawing- 
 room in London, and the Park, for a husband, 
 but at the time the matrimonial waters were 
 sparingly supplied with elder sons. 
 
 " In these desperate circumstances it occurred 
 to my mother to advertise in the Morning Post 
 
 that : ' Lord and Lady beg to inform the 
 
 nobility and gentry they have desirable daughters 
 to dispose of at greatly reduced prices. No 
 reasonable offer refused. Family established 
 over five hundred years.' My elder brother 
 fortunately persuaded her to abandon the pro- 
 ject, as it might lay him open to ridicule. 
 
 " However, one sister made a business-mar- 
 riage with an elderly man, a member of the 
 bloated democracy, and the other is still at 
 liberty. 
 
 " My elder brother was a prosperous-looking 
 pauper who had a ready-money air which was 
 most prepossessing. 
 
 " He early formed a residential attachment to 
 
 Mrs. , who was greatly esteemed in the 
 
 best divorce circles. 
 
 "The prolonged good health of her husband 
 caused the lady the gravest anxiety, but a 
 
 5°
 
 scandalous story, in which the former was in- 
 volved, having become public, this affected his 
 spirits, and he died — as his friends said — of 
 exposure. 
 
 " My brother felt compelled to marry the 
 lady, but he greatly regretted the necessity. 
 
 " The bachelor's burden is his best friend's 
 wife. 
 
 " However, he inaugurated a movement in 
 the West End to present his wife with a 
 reputation in recognition of his and her long 
 services to 'society,' but before that came to 
 anything he met with an accident, and the lady 
 was left for a second time a widow. 
 
 " I inherited from my father nothing but his 
 bad name ; from my brother a flirting and 
 dancing connection. From my early youth I 
 have been a well-dressed man, described as a 
 gentleman, and I soon became addicted to 
 millionaire habits. 
 
 " My father had assured me that for a man 
 of birth to dine out every night all that was 
 necessary was a dress-suit, a shirt, and a smile. 
 
 " I soon found, however, that as a detrimental 
 I was causing an obstruction. 
 
 5i
 
 "The infirmities of youth compelled me to 
 give frequently little sentimental dinners, and 
 I became possessed of a bijou connection of 
 disorderly Duchesses, and titled and untitled 
 spendthrifts, and was within easy distance of 
 the best ' society.' 
 
 " However, after a time, I became the re- 
 cipient of many interesting presentations in the 
 form of summonses and writs, and my friends, 
 upon whom no expense had been spared, began 
 to desert me. 
 
 " Nevertheless, the injuries I had sustained 
 were so slight that little hopes of my succumb- 
 ing were entertained. 
 
 " Whilst I was endeavouring to dispose of 
 my debts, and was exploring the diamondiferous 
 deposits of May Fair for the purpose, I en- 
 countered a pleasantly-situated widow, who 
 occupied a mansionette in Curzon Street. 
 
 " She had a commodious character, was ex- 
 ceptionally well-furnished, and since the death 
 of her husband had been redecorated throughout 
 in the most artistic manner, the result being 
 that she ranked as one of the most desirable 
 widows in London. 
 
 52
 
 " She had been struggling for years on the 
 outskirts of ' society,' but embarrassed by an 
 alcoholic husband, a man who was commonly 
 reported to belong to the belabouring class. 
 
 " I convinced her that this was a splendid 
 opportunity for a woman with five thousand a 
 year, but did not disclose I was urgently in 
 need of a rich wife to relieve me of my im- 
 mediate distress. 
 
 " The lady at once perceived I occupied a 
 favourite position in 'society,' possessed auxiliary 
 advantages, and was in fact the best value in 
 London. 
 
 " We married. 
 
 " The social salvage corps came immediately 
 to the rescue, and dined with us continually. 
 I am now rich, respected, and it is said by 
 those whose opinion I least value, that I have 
 ' done exceedingly well for myself,' which means 
 I have done exceedingly well for them, for they 
 are anxious to dine with me. 
 
 " Wealth instantly purifies the past and beauti- 
 fies the character." 
 
 5*
 
 The Sultan and the Vizier -o -o 
 
 THERE flourished once at Fez a certain 
 Vizier who was famous throughout the 
 kingdom of Morocco for the high opinion he 
 entertained of himself, his virtues, his talents, 
 his power, and his wealth; as also for the habit 
 he had of perpetually reminding his neighbours 
 of how great, good, wise, rich, and altogether 
 admirable he was. 
 
 Blessed be Allah, such characters are not un- 
 common even amongst ourselves ! 
 
 Yet, singularly enough, he was not a literary 
 man ! 
 
 The fame of him having reached the Court, 
 the Sultan invited the Vizier to dinner, and 
 with Asiatic insidiousness encouraged him to 
 enlarge upon his favourite theme. At the close 
 of the feast, however, turning suddenly upon 
 
 54
 
 him, the Sultan said : " My good man, you 
 think a great deal too much of yourself, and 
 you talk a great deal too much of yourself." 
 Then, calling for his guard, he had the Vizier 
 stripped and taken to the market, where, being 
 sold by auction, he was knocked down to the 
 highest bidder for the modest sum of eightpence. 
 
 Allah is great, indeed ! But it is difficult to 
 perceive why the career of so splendid a despot 
 should have been cut short in the midst of its 
 usefulness. Had that Sultan been appointed to 
 rule over Great Britain, and been permitted to 
 carry out his policy for the suppression of inor- 
 dinate conceit, we should by now be rejoicing at 
 the mortification of innumerable pigmy politicians, 
 pinchbeck courtiers, social upstarts, inflated 
 officials, artistic frauds, over-rated authors and 
 authoresses, Puritanical Pecksniffs, incompetent 
 critics, and self-sufficient journalists. 
 
 55
 
 The American Father <^ -o -c* 
 
 Al )AM in Paradise discovered Eve ; Eve dis- 
 covered Original Sin ; and Christopher 
 Columbus discovered America. 
 
 These are three critical epochs in human 
 history. 
 
 It has been reserved for me to establish the 
 fourth. I discovered the American father. 
 
 Eor a quarter of a century Europe has been 
 overrun with American visitors. The type is a 
 very familiar one. 
 
 There is the American mother — stout, sleek, 
 self-sufficient, a peripatetic " great lady " with all 
 the polish of the Palace — of Varieties. 
 
 56
 
 The American daughter — peerlessly beautiful, 
 singularly fascinating, fabulously wealthy (by 
 repute) and atrociously artificial. 
 
 The American younger daughter — a precocious 
 hobble-de-hoy with not the very faintest symptom 
 of coming good looks. 
 
 But never a father ! 
 
 Wherever it may be, whether in Paris or London, 
 at Rome, or on the Riviera, the American father 
 is conspicuous by his persistent absence. There is 
 never even a photograph of him. His existence is 
 generally suggested to us through a series of ill- 
 suppressed sighs. He is an incurable dipsomaniac, 
 who has wrecked the American mother's life. 
 
 American fathers must be fiendishly wicked. 
 
 I was sitting in Rotten Row one afternoon 
 revelling in the farewell favours of the splendid 
 summer, when a stranger strolled up and settled 
 himself upon the chair next to mine. He was of 
 a communicative disposition, and we soon became 
 talkative. We spoke of many things ; we dis- 
 cussed the weather, the attractions of London, the 
 
 57
 
 Limited Monarchy, and — the proposed abolition 
 of the House of Lords. 
 
 "Well, stranger," said my neighbour, with that 
 musical twang which is so decided an improve- 
 ment upon our old-world pronunciation, "you 
 must understand that I regard this measure from 
 an absolutely disinterested point of view. I am an 
 American father. . . .' 
 
 With a yell of triumph I bounced from the 
 chair, and, clutching the creature by the throat, I 
 hissed through the teeth, " Man, you lie ! " 
 
 It was a terrific moment. I gradually calmed 
 down, when he very generously proved to me that 
 his assertion was correct. 
 
 It is impossible, of course, to describe my feel- 
 ings. The excitement of a lifetime was crowded 
 into a short period. I felt like the naturalist who 
 should chance upon a live dodo. 
 
 "Sir," I asked, "tell me as a man now — and 
 pray excuse any apparent discourtesy — are you an 
 incorrigible drunkard ? " 
 
 He assured me this was not in any way the case. 
 
 58
 
 " Have you ruined the middle-aged hopes, 
 blighted the middle-aged life, crushed the gentle 
 spirit of your devoted and inconsolable wife ? " 
 
 He smiled curiously. 
 
 " Do you or do you not belong to one of the 
 ' First Families ' of America ? " 
 
 "Well, I don't precisely know," he replied, 
 "but mother, I believe, before she emigrated to 
 the States did do charing for your first families 
 over here. Is it to this you refer ? " 
 
 " Man," I continued, " do not trifle. This is a 
 memorable moment. Is your daughter fabulously 
 rich ? " 
 
 The surprise this time was altogether upon his 
 side. Starting up, he said, "What . . . my 
 Janie rich ? Well, I am right glad to hear of it, 
 and I hope she will spare her poppa a dollar or 
 two to pull along with, for I tell it to you straight, 
 stranger, I am about as dead broke as they make 
 them." 
 
 The shades of evening were rapidly closing 
 in, the dew was settling upon the ground, the 
 
 59
 
 yellow gold lights of the lamps of London were 
 casting warmth upon the cold grey street, and cabs 
 and carriages were flitting along Piccadilly, bear- 
 ing skilfully undressed women to dinner or to the 
 play, when tearing myself from the American 
 father— by the way, I handed him half a sovereign ; 
 it was a bad one- -I hurried back to the club, with 
 all the feverishness of accomplished greatness 
 
 upon me. 
 
 Adam — Eve— Christopher Columbus — and I — 
 the four epoch-making discoverers in the long life 
 of human history ! 
 
 60
 
 A Dialogue with a Dowager ^ 
 
 I PROPOSE some day preparing a small 
 volume of " Dialogues with the Dowagers." 
 In this form I conceive much practical worldly 
 wisdom might be conveyed in a popular style, and 
 that experience imparted to the young, at a 
 moderate cost, which has generally to be acquired 
 at the expense of crushed sentiment, ruined hopes 
 and considerable hardening of the heart. The 
 plan would be somewhat as follows : — 
 
 The Expert Dowager and the Social 
 Mannikin 
 
 She : "My son— what is your present fortune, 
 and what expectations have you for the future ? 
 Forgive these personal inquiries, but you will 
 readily admit when you reach my age how essential 
 
 61
 
 such considerations are in the formation of a 
 correct appreciation of character." 
 
 He : " Madam, my father is wealthy, and he 
 provides me with a substantial allowance. Being 
 his eldest son, I shall inherit, of course, the greater 
 part of his property." 
 
 She : " Is you- father aged or infirm ? " 
 
 He : " He is both the one and the other." 
 
 She : " Capital. By this I perceive you are a 
 young man of superior excellence, of unusual in- 
 telligence, and one altogether deserving of my very 
 highest esteem. Do I understand you entertain 
 an inordinate opinion of yourself?" 
 
 He : " Most undoubtedly." 
 
 She : "Admirable youth — you will succeed. 
 Are you prepared to cringe before those who are 
 commonly considered to be, for the moment, your 
 superiors ? " 
 
 He : " I will most cheerfully undertake to do 
 this, reserving to myself the right of discarding 
 them, however, the instant that even the suspicion 
 of adversity overtakes them." 
 
 She : " Fond boy, your reward equally in this 
 world and in the next is assured. You will never 
 exempt from this rule even those who have shown 
 
 62
 
 you the very greatest kindness or have done you 
 the most substantial services ? " 
 
 He : " Decidedly not — indeed, these more than 
 any others may be assured of my bitter and un- 
 dying resentment, should Fate ever provide them 
 with reverses." 
 
 She: "Oh, young man of infinite wisdom! 
 Yours is, indeed, a character worthy of the highest 
 admiration. The world is at your feet, and for 
 you are reserved its innumerable rewards and 
 privileges. Cultivate with perseverance the pro- 
 minent, the fortunate, and the prosperous, spurn 
 the impecunious and the insignificant, be sedu- 
 lously commonplace, give to those who have 
 much, and ignore those who have little. Senti- 
 ment is folly, the justification of the wisdom of the 
 world is success. Wit is tiresome ; it maintains 
 the brain in unnecessary activity. Secure plati- 
 tudes are amply sufficient for our conversational 
 requirements. Intelligent men and women are 
 perilous and success alone makes them 
 reputable. 
 
 "Go, my son, and prosperity be with you. These 
 are the counsels of an aged woman wise in her 
 world ; and rest assured, do you but follow them 
 
 63
 
 conscientiously, you will attain the esteem of your 
 superiors, the affection of your equals, and the 
 spontaneous respect of your inferiors." 
 
 It is the narrow mind which is alone respectable 
 — to the narrow-minded. 
 
 64
 
 The Bride and Bridegroom 
 
 ^ <i* 
 
 (Situation : Bride and bridegroom in the carriage 
 driving from the church to the breakfast.) 
 
 He {placing a hand affectionately on one hand 
 of the bride) : " At last, darling, you are mine." 
 {She shrugs her shoulders petulantly.) 
 
 He {laughingly) ; " You do not seem to ap- 
 preciate this so much as I do." 
 
 She : " Why should I ? You have got what 
 you wished for; I have not." 
 
 He {somewhat startled) : "Are you dissatisfied 
 with the presents you have received, or disap- 
 pointed at the attendance at the church ? Surely 
 you must see I am fashionable and popular, and 
 you know I am rich." 
 
 She: "I am well aware of all that. This is 
 the setting, but where is the jewel ? " 
 
 F 6 5
 
 He (amazed): "But you have just promised 
 to ' love, honour, and obey,' me . . ." 
 
 She (interrupting) : " That is a mere formality ; 
 besides, I was too agitated to think of the sig- 
 nificance of the words I was repeating. Also, 
 you could not expect me to make a scene in 
 the church ? " 
 
 He (aghast) : " Do you intend to convey that 
 
 you have made me marry you under false pre- 
 tences ? " 
 
 She: "Certainly not. You see a peach in 
 the window at the fruiterer's. Is it the business 
 of the shopman to warn you that it may pos- 
 sibly disagree with you ? It is the business of 
 the peach to look appetising, of the shopman 
 to sell it at the highest price he can, of the 
 buyer to consider if it may upset his digestion, 
 and if he can afford the luxury." 
 
 He : " In other words, it is the business of 
 parents to marry their daughters to men who 
 have money, and of the daughters to assist 
 them in doing this ?" 
 
 She : " That is the conventional system of 
 the time, and it is not for a girl of eighteen to 
 resist it. You are older, you have feasted with 
 
 66
 
 Folly, and you have experience. Your vanity 
 
 and your desire have blinded you." 
 
 He {despairingly) : " You have ruined my life." 
 She {furiously) : " How dare you ? Do you 
 
 not see it is you who have ruined mine?" 
 
 (The carriage reaches its destination ; the bride and 
 bridegroom step out smili/ig, and receive the 
 congratulations of their assembled friends. 
 " Happy man ! " say the men ; "Lucky girl 7 " 
 cry the women, and everybody is agreed that 
 the parents of the bride are clever.) 
 
 67
 
 History of Humanity <s- > ^>- 
 
 Chapter I 
 
 THE earliest information we have of man is 
 that he was created. Having exhausted 
 himself in calling the animals names he pro- 
 ceeded to go to — sleep ! 
 
 Chapter II 
 
 Woman then occurs, and her first recorded 
 act was to — appropriate one of man's ribs for 
 her own convenience. 
 
 Chapter III 
 
 Woman is now at the summit of feminine 
 terrestrial prosperity. She possesses the only 
 living man, and she inhabits the Paradise of 
 Pleasure. 
 
 68
 
 The next incident, therefore, is in inevitable 
 sequence. 
 
 Straying from Adam, Eve enters into conver- 
 sation with the only other talking creature in 
 the garden — to wit, the Serpent, the most vil- 
 lainous, repulsive, and venomous animal of all. 
 
 To emphasise the situation, this particular 
 serpent is Satan — the principle of Evil. 
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 The Serpent deceives Eve, who, possessing 
 entire happiness, characteristically exchanges it 
 for something — new ! 
 
 Chapter V 
 
 Eve rejoins Adam ; prevails upon him to 
 make a fool of himself as she already had of 
 herself, and hiding — leaves the first man to tell 
 the first lie ! 
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 Adam and Eve are summarily expelled from 
 Paradise. 
 
 69
 
 Thus upon the first day, the first woman fell 
 at the first temptation, ruined the first man, 
 and accomplished sufficient mischief to endure 
 even until the last trumpet shall summon the 
 last man to attend the Last Judgment ! 
 
 A very creditable undress rehearsal. 
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 Reproduce the ingredients of this episode, 
 with ingenious elaboration, innumerable billions 
 of times, and you have the complete " History 
 of Humanity " from the first breath to the last 
 sigh. 
 
 Addenda 
 
 In the course of the eventful first day, the 
 first woman invented the first fashion ! 
 
 Finis 
 
 A circumstance of interest is that Eve in- 
 augurated female dress with a leaf, and since 
 then till recently Fashion has continually added 
 
 70
 
 to the costume which a civilised woman shall 
 wear. It has been reserved for this age, how- 
 ever, to reverse the process by rapidly undressing 
 her, and it may be, therefore, that the end of 
 the world will occur when woman reaches again 
 the inexpensive starting-point. 
 
 7i
 
 A Club Conversation. — I *v> ^> ^> 
 
 THE human soul within its living cell in- 
 cessantly endeavours to reveal to its 
 neighbouring captives that unappreciated or 
 misunderstood self which lies concealed behind 
 the walls of its prison. What efforts, what sac- 
 rifices do not all cheerfully make to secure the 
 appreciation of their fellow-men ! How all toil, 
 dissemble, and intrigue, to impress upon their 
 neighbours a favourable estimate of the personality 
 concealed within ! And all this self-denial, dis- 
 simulation, and anxiety, for what end? Were 
 Jones to die to-day, Smith would to-morrow at 
 the Club casually remark to Robinson — 
 " Have you heard? Jones is dead." 
 To which the answer would inevitably be — 
 R. : " Really " {with an inficctio?i of mild regret). 
 " Poor chap ! . . . When did he die ? " 
 S. : " Yesterday evening." 
 
 R. : " Poor chap " {feelingly). {Pause.) . . . 
 "Are you lunching here? Let's lunch together." 
 
 72
 
 And with this curt conversational obituary the 
 life-long toil of Jones, his eager, incessant anxiety 
 to obtain affection, esteem, and respect would all 
 be dismissed into eternal oblivion. 
 
 Or, is it Crcesus Flint that should embark on 
 the final journey, Robinson would inquire — 
 
 " Is it true old Crcesus is dead ? " 
 
 S. : " Yes {mournfully) ; he died on Wednes- 
 day." 
 
 R. : " Hum ! ... No more dinners." (Pause.) 
 ..." I wonder what he died worth ? " 
 
 S. (dubiously) : " I shouldn't think very 
 much. He spent almost every shilling he made 
 in doing the thing well. Dreadful old 'tuft- 
 hunter.' Never missed a chance of doing a 
 good turn — if he thought it might eventually 
 prove serviceable to him." 
 
 R. (with a slight smile of reminiscent deprecia- 
 tion) : " Yes. ... He gave capital dinners, 
 though. . . . Poor chap ! " 
 
 With this brief summary, all the popularity, 
 the generosity, the hospitality of the departed 
 Crcesus would be wiped away for ever. 
 
 Or, Mrs. Jones it is has crossed the boundary- 
 line into eternity and little Mrs. Chenevix, having 
 
 73
 
 contrived to secure the first news of the cata- 
 strophe, promptly hurries around the town to 
 communicate the exciting intelligence. 
 
 " My dear Polly, have you heard (tantalisingly) ? 
 
 . Poor Jemima Jones died this morning in 
 
 the most horrible agonies. They say it took two 
 
 doctors and all the footmen to hold her down."' 
 
 {Picturesque accentuation on the "all".) 
 
 Mrs. R. : "You don't say so (with mixed awe 
 and pleasurable excitement). Why it was only the 
 other day she was here painted up to the very 
 eyes, as usual. How shocking ! (A pause to allow 
 the exquisite horrors of the situation to permeate 
 properly) ... I wonder what Brown will do 
 now ? " 
 
 Mrs. C. : "Just what struck me, my dear. 
 {Appropriate expressiveness of the eyes.) . . . 
 Thought you would like to hear the dreadful 
 news. . . . Goodbye" {cheerily). And hastens 
 off to communicate the intelligence to other 
 mutual friends— or enemies — indiscriminately, 
 with a happy consciousness that the early news 
 of poor Mrs. Jones's death will somehow benefi- 
 cially associate her personally with the temporarily 
 absorbing incident. 
 
 74
 
 A Club Conversation. — II *o *o ^> 
 
 A SERIES of Club Conversations should be 
 very instructive. The following is to be 
 regarded merely as a specimen : — 
 
 Scene : A Club. 
 Enter Smith. 
 
 Jones : "Well, Smith, how are you? How is 
 the world treating you ? " 
 
 Smith : " Magnificently ! You know Midas, 
 the Klondike King ? " 
 
 Jones : " Yes, by name. An abominable 
 ruffian, is he not ? " 
 
 Smith {laughing) : "A colossal thief, I should 
 imagine . . . but a very useful man to know. 
 His Klondike Consolidateds are already at eight, 
 
 75
 
 and Midas tells me he and his gang are going to 
 force them up to twenty. ... I have five hundred 
 of them." 
 
 Jones : " What was the property valued at 
 originally ? " 
 
 Smith : The capital of the concern is a million. 
 Of course, before the shares reach twenty, we 
 who are behind the scenes will sell out." 
 
 Jones : "And who will bear the loss? " 
 
 Smith : " The public; obviously." 
 
 Jones: " You call that business? It appears 
 to me Midas is merely a gigantic swindler, and 
 that those who are ' behind the scenes,' as you call 
 it, are accessories to the act and, therefore, 
 swindlers too." 
 
 Smith : " But there is nothing illegal in mani- 
 pulating the market, or in forcing shares up to a 
 fictitious value." 
 
 Jones : " Only because the Legislature never 
 contemplated that modern ingenuity would devise 
 such an elaborate system of fraud." 
 
 Smith : " But every one in the West End and 
 in the City speculates on such private informa- 
 tion. It is to obtain this we make the acquaintance 
 of men like Midas, give them dinners, put their 
 
 76
 
 names down for election at our clubs, and show 
 them much civility." 
 
 Jones: "All that only makes the matter 
 worse. It shows the West End is now so eager to 
 make money that it altogether disregards the first 
 principles of honesty." 
 
 Smith : " My good Jones, it is waste of time 
 to discuss business principles with you. . . . 
 Wait till I have sold my Klondike Consolidateds, 
 and you will come to eat my ill-gotten delicacies 
 and drink my ill-gotten wines." 
 
 Scene : The Same Club. Time : Six Months 
 
 Later. 
 
 Enter Smith. 
 
 Jones : " Well, Smith, how is Midas ? " 
 
 Smith {savagely) : " A d d scoundrel ! He 
 
 ought to be in gaol, and if I can get him there I 
 shall." 
 
 Jones : " Why ? Did Klondike Consolidateds 
 not go up to twenty ? " 
 
 Smith : " Of course they did not. Midas 
 merely unloaded his own shares upon his friends 
 
 77
 
 at eight, after which the concern collapsed. He 
 made his money ; we lost ours." 
 
 Jones {chuckling) : "So long as Midas was 
 only going to cheat the obscure public, retired 
 tradesmen, clergymen, and ignorant widows, 
 there was nothing dishonest in the transaction. 
 When, however he caught you, he became an 
 abominable scoundrel.'' 
 
 Smith : " My good Jones, it is useless to talk 
 about business with you. Any man who pos- 
 sesses the slightest knowledge of business can 
 see that . . ." 
 
 Jones (interrupting) : " To cheat others is 
 honest, but it is dishonest to cheat us." 
 
 [Exit Smith {growling). 
 
 78
 
 A Snap-Shot ^> *^> <iv -o *o 
 
 "S 
 
 NAPSHOTS at the Serious," might provide 
 entertaining reading :— 
 
 Scene : Editorial Office of a Daily Paper. 
 Time: ii p.m. 
 
 Editor : Mr. Jones, the paper seems some- 
 what colourless to-night." 
 
 Mr. Jones {Sub-Editor, opening telegrams) : 
 "Yes, 'Serious battle in the East ; three thousand 
 Chinamen killed ! ' " 
 
 Editor : " Ah ! " 
 
 Mr. Jones : " ' Appalling shipwreck ; founder- 
 ing of a passenger steamer, with enormous loss 
 of life.' " 
 
 Editor : " Good." 
 
 Mr. Jones : "' Horrible double murder and 
 attempted suicide in Whitechapel.' ' 
 
 Editor : " Anything else ? " 
 
 79
 
 Mr. Jones : " ' Atrocious outrage ; woman 
 burnt alive by her husband.' " 
 
 Editor : " Good indeed ! " 
 
 Mr. Jones : " There is an important death : 
 ' Viscount Scaramouch died this morning at 
 Scaramouch Castle.' " 
 
 Editor : " Excellent. With regard to the 
 ' Leaders ' — we might have a vigorous high-toned 
 article deprecating the increasing popular appetite 
 for sensational matter. The writer should insist 
 that the mission of the Press is to educate the 
 public mind. He should particularly denounce 
 ' society ' journalism for cultivating a class of 
 readers that enjoy personalities and scandal." 
 
 The Editor returns home confident he is doing 
 admirable work in his generation. 
 
 It is fortunate we cannot deceive others so 
 easily as we deceive ourselves. 
 
 «!"!. 
 
 The editors of the English newspapers did not 
 employ such gifted poster-writers a hundred and 
 odd years ago as their successors do now. Had 
 the poster-writers of to-day had to announce 
 
 80
 
 the events of the Revolution in France, they 
 probably would have provided head-lines on the 
 following patterns : — 
 
 EXECUTION 
 
 of 
 
 KING LOUIS XVI. 
 
 SENSATIONAL SCENES AT THE GUILLOTINE 
 
 INTERVIEW WITH THE EXECUTIONER 
 
 From our Own Correspondent. 
 
 ALL THE WINNERS 
 
 And some months later : — 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE BEHEADED 
 
 PROGRESS THROUGH THE STREETS 
 
 SANSON THE EXECUTIONER 
 
 Description of the Queen's Dress 
 
 FOOTBALL RESULTS 
 
 81
 
 A little ruin goes a long way, even if it be only 
 the ruin of — a reputation. 
 
 Cynical as the sentiment may seem, it is 
 human, a circumstance proved by the activity 
 displayed in supplying atrocities for the gratifi- 
 cation of this appetite. Every instant of the 
 day, and from every region of the globe, there 
 is flashed across the wires each calamity which 
 the moment produces. "Shocking Suicides,' 
 "Terrible Tragedies," "Disgraceful Disclosures," 
 "Attempted Assassinations," "Murder and Mad- 
 ness " — how attractive are these alliterative 
 announcements ! How exquisite that new sense 
 which our civilisation has developed, that 
 passive participation at the breakfast-table and 
 in the smoking-room in the latest vicissitudes 
 of humanity ! 
 
 And yet we are not ghouls. We have hearts, 
 and feel — for ourselves. But our own afflictions, 
 somehow, are excessive trials, whilst the mis- 
 fortunes of our neighbours are invariably just 
 and temperate judgements. And here is dis- 
 played the ingenuity of the New Philosophy ; 
 for, as sorrow and suffering are said to be con- 
 siderably in excess of happiness — which they cer- 
 
 82
 
 tainly are not — we are enabled to attain by this 
 latest system the utmost gratification possible. 
 Myriads of hearts throb to soothe — an idle 
 moment; and thousands endure anguish to con- 
 tribute — a sensation. 
 
 It is indeed an exquisite reflection that we 
 all suffer together to accumulate the general fund 
 of human enjoyment — that each contributes his 
 share of misfortune towards the reasonable en- 
 livenment of his fellow-men ! 
 
 83
 
 "The Daily Cinematograph' <^ *=y 
 
 THERE is no hope for human nature! In 
 the distant past, those who came before 
 us gathered in the Colosseum to see their fellow- 
 creatures fight and die. Circumstances eventually 
 modified that custom, and we took to reading 
 in the newspapers descriptions of battles, 
 massacres, murders, accidents, and assaults. 
 The Daily Cinematograph — the moving-picture- 
 paper— which will be produced eventually — will 
 enable us once more to see our fellow-creatures 
 suffer. The proprietors of The Daily Cinema- 
 tograph will supply to each of their subscribers 
 an instrument as the National Telephone Com- 
 pany provides a telephone. Every morning a roll 
 of records will be delivered, and the subscriber 
 will only have to fix this in the instrument, and 
 enlarged pictures of all the most interesting events 
 
 84
 
 of the moment will be reproduced on a screen. 
 Should the subscriber wish to linger over a particu- 
 lar massacre or murder, race or railway accident, 
 by merely moving a lever he will have the picture 
 repeated as often as he likes. Between each 
 scene there will be a space devoted to advertise- 
 ments. There will be a " Special Scandal 
 Column," which is sure to interest the women, 
 for it will reproduce scenes in Hyde Park, the 
 restaurants, the theatres, and even, it is hoped, 
 the ball-rooms. In these records it will be seen 
 that Lady Jones and Captain Smith, for instance, 
 are continually together, and are generally talking 
 to each other earnestly. As the reproduction 
 of such circumstances will obviously not be 
 libellous, scandal will have much freer scope — a 
 development which all have been awaiting with 
 impatience. 
 
 85
 
 "Good News" -^y -q> ^>- o 
 
 W r HY should the Devil have all the news- 
 papers ? Accounts of wars, disputes, 
 murders, suicides, divorces, frauds, and scandals, 
 together with the latest betting and the prices 
 of speculative stock, nearly fill the columns of 
 most journals. Yet every competent observer, 
 from time immemorial, has decided that there 
 is more good in the world than evil. Is there 
 not room, therefore, for such a daily newspaper as 
 Good News, which should deal with the better 
 side of the human character, and should direct 
 attention to the generosity, self-sacrifice and 
 heroism of life ? 
 
 It is much a matter of custom. " Our Own 
 Correspondent " assiduously singles out passages 
 in foreign newspapers which will probably cause 
 irritation, and despatches them to his journal 
 at home. In time the two nations become em- 
 bittered, and are brought to the brink of war. 
 He forgets that the Press is a politician. The 
 
 86
 
 reporter ferrets out every detail of the latest 
 " Horrible Murder " or " Shocking Suicide," and 
 the public mind absorbs this unwholesome matter. 
 He forgets that the Press is an educator. The 
 sub-editor spreads the bad example under the 
 headings of " West End Divorce Case " and 
 "Society Scandal," though he ignores the vast 
 amount of excellent work which is unobtrusively 
 done by the well-connected and rich. He forgets 
 that the Press is a preacher. 
 
 Such a newspaper should be devoted to the 
 cheerful sides of life. Its reporters would hunt our 
 all that is pleasant, and the editor would do his 
 best to encourage the public to look at things at 
 their brightest. There are very few murderers, the 
 minority are thieves, not the majority; the amount 
 of premeditated villainy is comparatively small ; 
 there is more kindness than unkindness in the 
 world, and in most lives there are more agreeable 
 than disagreeable incidents, only we are inclined 
 to brood over the latter and to forget the former. 
 A newspaper edited on such lines would start its 
 readers in a cheerful mood each morning ; and 
 nothing is more contagious than cheerfulness, 
 nor more necessary to success. 
 
 87
 
 The New " Gentleman " and " Lady "^- 
 
 THEY are all ladies and gentlemen now — 
 except the ladies and gentlemen them- 
 selves. It is not ^ revolution, it is a great reversal. 
 Gentility of gentility : all is gentility ! Servants 
 are " Helps " — they are " Lady Cooks," " Com- 
 panion-Maids," " Lady Housemaids," and " Lady 
 Helps." The page has developed into a "Gentle- 
 manly Youth." The old-fashioned " Boots " at 
 the hotel is converted into a "Valet." The handy 
 man who runs errands is a "Commissionaire." 
 A lodger is a " Paying Guest " ; rooms are 
 " Chambers " ; apartments are " Suites," and a 
 house is either a " Mansion " or a " Residence." 
 Refreshment bars are " Buffets," and dining- 
 rooms are " Restaurants." 
 
 A shop is an " Establishment " ; the master is 
 the "Chief"; his assistant is a "Young Gentle- 
 man," and the assistants collectively are the 
 " Staff." The junior clerks are " Under Secre- 
 taries " ; the work-people, "Employes." A situa- 
 tion is indifferently described as a " Post," an 
 
 88
 
 "Engagement,'' and an "Appointment." Wages 
 are either a "Remuneration" or an "Hono- 
 rarium," and perquisites are the " Emoluments of 
 Office " ! They no longer sell, they " Transact 
 business." A bill is an " Account." The tailor 
 is a " Practical Tailor," and the dressmaker a 
 "Scientific Modiste." A picture-dealer's shop is 
 a "Gallery," a bazaar is an "Exhibition"; and 
 a music-hall is a " Palace of Varieties." The 
 chorus girl who performs at a theatre is an 
 " Artiste " ; the man who walks the tight-rope, 
 does a deep dive or fasts for money is a 
 "Professor." A dame school is a " College." 
 
 The railway porter is an " Officer of the Com- 
 pany " ; the banker is a Baron ; the manager of 
 the branch office is an " Agent " ; the brewer is 
 a Peer ; and the broker a broken Baronet. The 
 chairman of a club committee is a " President." 
 Subscribers to the various institutes are 
 " Fellows." Every other man draggles a cluster of 
 descriptive consonants after his name — a middle- 
 class consolation for not having inherited a title 
 attached to the commencement. 
 
 It would appear from the papers that every one 
 is either " Accomplished," " Well connected," 
 
 89
 
 " Popular," " Accustomed to the best society," 
 "Gifted," or " Well known." Apparently it suffices 
 to stroll occasionally in Hyde Park to claim incor- 
 poration with " society." Never have there been 
 so many " Celebrities," " Distinguished" men and 
 women, and " Eminent " personages. Toss a 
 pebble up in a Towded thoroughfare, and it is 
 a million to one it falls either upon a "Talented 
 authoress " a " Popular author " or a " Well- 
 known journalist." At the rebound it will most 
 certainly strike an " Influential member of 
 society" ! When Diogenes started to search for 
 an honest man he undertook a task not to be 
 compared with what a search would be to find 
 an obscure person now. 
 
 There is a thin layer of gentility covering a 
 block of the very commonest material. A little 
 English, a little French, a little singing, a little 
 music, and much fallacious knowledge of the 
 follies of "society." Having few immortal gods, 
 there have been manufactured a multitude of 
 idols which we venerate with insincere devotion. 
 
 We are suffering from two evils : drawing-room 
 democracy on the one hand, parlour pride on the 
 other. 
 
 90
 
 Perfect Albion 
 
 ^Cix *o -^> *o 
 
 PERFECTION on an island is the condition 
 which we are convinced has been conferred 
 upon us. Our fellow-creatures on the Continent 
 are collectively " Dirty foreigners." Each nation 
 is accorded an adjective that indicates in which 
 direction it particularly differs from ourselves ; 
 there are the "Vicious French," the "Vulgar 
 Americans," the "Coarse Germans," the "Super- 
 stitious Spaniards," the " Treacherous Italians," 
 the " Barbarous Russians," and the " Cowardly 
 Belgians " ! 
 
 There are, moreover, portions of our own com- 
 munity that are unsatisfactory; they are the 
 " Beggarly Scotch," the " Mad Irish," the " Thiev- 
 ing Welsh," the " Idolatrous Catholics," the 
 " Canting Methodists," and the " Psalm-singing 
 Dissenters " generally. 
 
 9i
 
 Another step has to be taken to reach the 
 inner John Bull. The populace is the " Common 
 herd," the " Swinish multitude," that should not 
 be educated, should not participate in the govern- 
 ment of the Empire, and should be induced to 
 emigrate ; and the " Loathsome middle-class," that 
 must be kept at a distance. 
 
 We have now reached the core of creation : 
 the English — not British — territorial magnates 
 who, by inference, are virtuous, refined, en- 
 lightened, honourable, civilised, brave, generous, 
 sane, honest, orthodox, and of a superior crea- 
 tion to the rest of the multitude that composes 
 the British Empire. 
 
 It may be opportune to mention that this 
 element is the heart of " society," the group that 
 is so continually denounced by preachers, philo- 
 sophers, and writers. 
 
 In England we are in a condition of advanced 
 stupidity ; notwithstanding the enormous increase 
 
 92
 
 of freedom of thought and action, of education 
 and experience, we are still cramped by the system 
 which was developed in the Dark Ages ! We 
 still occasionally describe the multitude as "The 
 common people " ; it is a significant circumstance, 
 however, that the use of the phrase is daily 
 becoming less frequent. Every condition which 
 was formerly not affected by the hereditary 
 superior amongst us is even now described con- 
 temptuously ; the "Low Journalist," "Poor 
 Artist," "Common Actor," "Worthless Actress," 
 " Dirty Jew," " Snivelling Dissenter," " City 
 Shark," "Pettifogging Attorney," and " Swindling 
 Shopkeeper " are expressions that occur at once 
 to the memory. On the other side of the social 
 chasm are "The Noble Lord," "The Reverend 
 Gentleman," "The Gallant Officer," and "The 
 Honourable Member " ! The iniquity of this 
 situation is far more serious than it appears to 
 be on the surface. The " Noble Lord " has to be 
 convicted of a vast amount of villainy before 
 the efficacy of the descriptive adjective is even 
 diminished ; enormous success must be achieved 
 by the "Poor Artist," "Low Journalist," " Dirty 
 Jew," "Common Actor," and "Swindling Shop- 
 
 93
 
 keeper " before the latter are absolved from the 
 unnecessary consequences of not being born of 
 the class that inherits superiority. To the 
 " Noble " Lord and his connections were allotted 
 the best opportunities, and the system provided 
 numerous checks to prevent them from sinking 
 to the social depths — unless they were traitors to 
 the cause. Those on the other side of the arti- 
 ficial gulf had not only to make their own oppor- 
 tunities, but to succeed mightily in spite of a 
 multitude of obstacles cunningly devised to check 
 their advance. The greater part of this villainous 
 machinery still exists. Those who support pro- 
 gress and reform here are " agitators," " dema- 
 gogues," and " socialists " yet. 
 
 The almost idolatrous attitude we have now 
 assumed in this country towards the rich is some- 
 what excusable when considered in that light. 
 The acquisition of great wealth by inheritance, 
 marriage, effort, fraud, or any other means, at 
 once frees the " City Shark," " Common Actor," 
 " Swindling Shopkeeper," " Dirty Jew," " Snivel- 
 ling Dissenter," " Low Journalist," and the rest 
 
 94
 
 from the malign influences of their former condi- 
 tion. There is a frantic rush for wealth and its 
 baptismal advantages. Would it not be wise 
 simply to remove the disqualifications which the 
 folly of our ancestors elaborated? 
 
 95
 
 The New Marriage ^> *o *o *o 
 
 i. The ordinary woman is trained to catch a 
 man, not to keep a husband. As a girl, she dances 
 much, sings more, dresses simply but attractively, 
 smiles when it is to her interest to do so, and 
 is apparently devoted to home. That conduct 
 implies cheerfulness, economy, and contentment. 
 It is, however, only her ante-nuptial manner. 
 Many a man could describe his experience six 
 months after marriage in these words : " My wife 
 is a parcel of assorted follies and failings, enclosed 
 in a decorative wrapper and labelled ' Mixed Choco- 
 lates,' but after marriage I discovered it to be a 
 packet of acid drops." 
 
 Would an ordinary commercial transaction 
 conducted on these lines be considered honest ? 
 
 2. The ordinary man expects to obtain by 
 marriage — 
 
 96
 
 A toy. 
 
 A wife. 
 
 A submissive companion. 
 
 A useful ally. 
 
 A housekeeper. 
 
 A nurse. 
 
 A devoted mother for his children. 
 
 An angel in alpaca. 
 
 The last material is especially mentioned to 
 show he expects her to be economical. 
 
 He wishes woman to have all the virtues, and, 
 for private use, some of the vices. 
 
 The ordinary man selects the woman who is to 
 be his wife when his mind is as much confused by 
 the fumes of love as that of a drunken person is 
 by those of wine. When the fumes evaporate, he 
 discovers his imagination has conferred upon her 
 a hundred and one qualities she does not possess. 
 
 There is deliberate deceit on one side, there is 
 self-deception on the other. Would an ordinary 
 contract completed in these conditions be ex- 
 pected by any sane man or woman to be satis- 
 factory ? 
 
 3. Registration of the Unmarried. — The 
 h 97
 
 properly qualified man who wishes to vote at a 
 Parliamentary election is compelled to enter his 
 name on the local register. Men and women who 
 are willing to marry should be compelled to enter 
 their names on the matrimonial register of the 
 district. They should be required to give, on 
 oath, a correct description of themselves, and to 
 produce the sworn declarations of two substantial 
 references that they are that which they represent 
 themselves to be. 
 
 Thus a woman would swear that her golden hair 
 is not dyed ; her teeth are those Nature provided 
 for her personal use ; her figure is not materially 
 improved by artificial assistance; that she is 
 healthy, good-tempered,, and possesses other 
 qualities, accomplishments, or advantages. The 
 references — her parents, guardians, friends, or 
 employers — should declare they have reasonable 
 cause to believe her description of herself is 
 correct. 
 
 A man would declare that he is healthy, good- 
 tempered, sober, industrious, and regular in his 
 habits, and his references would bear witness to 
 the truth of his statements. 
 
 Were it discovered after marriage that either 
 
 98
 
 had substantially misrepresented his or her con- 
 dition or character, the contract could be annulled 
 by the Court expeditiously, inexpensively, and 
 with no more publicity than would be necessary to 
 inform the world that in consequence of error on 
 the part of the man or woman they had ceased to 
 be husband and wife. 
 
 The slight costs and the care of the child — if 
 there were one — would be imposed on the offend- 
 ing person, or, failing him or her, on his or her 
 references. That would compel parents to 
 abandon the habit of assisting their daughters to 
 deceive unmarried men. 
 
 Why should dishonesty be permitted at the 
 altar, and perjury in the Divorce Court ? 
 
 Matrimonial Advisers. — Many a man who 
 requires a bracing, obtains a relaxing wife ; and 
 many a woman who requires a relaxing, secures a 
 bracing husband. The matrimonial adviser, when 
 consulted, might prescribe as follows : " Sir — You 
 are a weak-willed man, and it is necessary for you 
 to marry a bracing woman, who will rule you with 
 a firm but gentle hand. Were you united to a 
 relaxing woman, you would probably both be 
 wretched." 
 
 99
 
 Professional Pacifiers. — There are many 
 women who are eagerly endeavouring to obtain 
 employment. Some of them should undertake 
 to be professional pacifiers. A severe dispute has 
 broken out at home, and it is feared complications 
 may develop. The husband or wife calls through 
 the telephone for a professional pacifier, who 
 hurries to the house, investigates the case, ad- 
 ministers sedative advice, and recommends great 
 care and agreeable diet. The inflammatory symp- 
 toms diminish under treatment, and the cause 
 of irritation is eventually removed. For these 
 services the pacifier receives a guinea a visit. Is 
 it not cheaper to pay that fee than to let ill-nature 
 run its course, or to part with twenty guineas for 
 a conciliatory costume, the price the husband 
 frequently has to pay to cure an outbreak of 
 matrimonial discord ? 
 
 .y. •&[? m. 
 
 -7? w '/? 
 
 Can anything be more heinous and revolting 
 when critically considered than our present 
 methods of marrying and giving in marriage ? 
 Up to the age of seventeen or thereabouts we 
 
 ioo
 
 carefully educate our daughters to the observance 
 of excessive and exaggerated modesty and purity, 
 and then, instantaneously half unclothing them, 
 night after night we exhibit their suggestively 
 displayed and decorated charms to the gaze of pos- 
 sible purchasers. Call it " Going into ' society ' " 
 if you will — still, practically, this is what it comes 
 to. In youth we impress upon our maidens the 
 beauty of disinterested love, we feed them on fairy 
 tales and polished poetry, and then, launching 
 them into the world of fact, suddenly reversing 
 all former precepts, we impress upon them the 
 absolute necessity of marrying for money. Their 
 education is artificial and based on the uncon- 
 scious desire to float a spurious article on the 
 matrimonial market. In a seductive atmosphere 
 of music, perfume, and luxury, the eligible man, 
 dazzled and inebriated by the illusive surroundings, 
 is entrapped by the combined blandishments of 
 the selling parent and the child on sale. Can this 
 possibly be a proper method of contracting the 
 most serious and important compact of human 
 life — a compact which, if it is in the least likely 
 to prove even tolerable, should be founded on 
 combined esteem and interest ? With us, in the 
 
 TOI
 
 majority of cases, the man purchases a toy sold 
 to the highest bidder in the dearest market 
 in conditions skilfully contrived to delude and 
 obscure his judgment. Can it for a moment 
 be contended that this is either judicious or 
 justifiable ? 
 
 102
 
 The Confession of Faith of the "Nouveau 
 Riche " *o *o *^> ^> ^> 
 
 WHO made you? — Mrs. Montmorency 
 Scattercash. 
 
 Why did she make )Ou? — That I might pay her 
 debts, drive her about in my carriage, and make 
 myself generally useful to her. 
 
 In whose image and likeness did she make you? 
 — According to the latest type at present in vogue. 
 
 Is this likeness in your body or in your soul? — ■ 
 In neither. It is mainly in my clothes and general 
 behaviour. 
 
 How is your behaviour in accordance with the 
 latest fashion ? — In that I possess no opinions or 
 principles whatever of my own, and do not mind 
 what I do, so long as I do it in distinguished 
 society. 
 
 10^
 
 What is Reputation ?— The estimate your Neigh- 
 bours entertain of your wealth and social position. 
 
 Who is your Neighbour ? — Any one received in 
 "good society." 
 
 Should you love your Neighbour ?— Certainly — 
 in proportion to the popularity he or she tem- 
 porarily enjoys. 
 
 What is Fashion ?— The latest frivolity practised 
 by the smallest number. 
 
 Why should you follow Fashion ? — That I may 
 be recognised as one of the " right sort." 
 
 How are you to know what is the Fashion ? — 
 By consulting dressmakers and imitating notorious 
 Parisian soubrettes. 
 
 What is Hope ? — An ardent desire of obtain- 
 ing whatever you may wish for, whatever its 
 character. 
 
 What is Charity? — Assisting those who may 
 directly, or indirectly, be in any way useful to you 
 hereafter. 
 
 What is Prudence ? — Doing whatever you please 
 without compromising yourself publicly. 
 
 What is Justice ?— Strongly condemning the 
 slightest failings of others, whilst readily condoning 
 our own most infamous iniquities. 
 
 104
 
 What is Fortitude ?— Enduring wealth and pros- 
 perity without excessive complaint. 
 
 What is Temperance ? — Never so over-doing any- 
 thing that it may entail regrettable consequences. 
 
 What is Understanding? — A just appreciation 
 of the ever-varying social values of your friends 
 and acquaintance. 
 
 What is Knowledge ? — Whom to ask to dinner, 
 and whom not to. 
 
 What is Joy ? — The perfect realisation of your 
 Neighbour's slightest annoyances. 
 
 What is Modesty ? — -Not to dress lower than the 
 most decolletie woman in the room. 
 
 Which are the two great precepts of Charity ? — 
 To love yourself with your whole heart, your whole 
 soul, and your whole mind — and always to hope 
 for the very worst with regard to your neigh- 
 bour. 
 
 Which are the Poor? — Badly dressed people 
 whom we occasionally sing to in the East End of 
 London. 
 
 What is Humility? — A virtue we frequently 
 assume, but seldom possess. 
 
 What is Meekness? — -Bearing injuries patiently 
 till we can effectually retaliate. 
 
 io 5
 
 What is Brotherly Love? — The affection we 
 display towards our prosperous neighbour. 
 
 What is Poverty ? — The one unpardonable 
 crime. 
 
 What is Entire Obedience? — The voluntary 
 tribute paid by Folly to Fashion. 
 
 What is Sin ? — Any individual offence resented 
 by " society." 
 
 What is a Good Book ? — The last most sugges- 
 tive novel. 
 
 What is Divorce ? — A preliminary to a better 
 union. 
 
 What is a Friend ? — Any one who knows you so 
 intimately that he can realise nothing but your 
 failings. 
 
 What is Life ? — An uncertain period of vitality 
 occupied in the absorbing pursuit of will-o'-the- 
 wisps. 
 
 io6
 
 The Automaton Woman-Tamer 
 
 *o ^> 
 
 r^HE Automaton Woman-Tamer is the latest 
 -■- triumph of science in combination with 
 mechanism. 
 
 Generations of patient investigators have ob- 
 served that many married women possess only 
 a limited stock of conversational phrases for home 
 consumption. These phrases are alike in their 
 sense in all languages, and, according to the 
 records which have been handed down from the 
 earliest times, have been the same in all periods. 
 It has been observed, for instance, that such sen- 
 tences as, " You are the worst man that ever lived " ; 
 " If only others knew you as I know you " ; "I have 
 nothing to wear" • "You do not mind how much 
 you spend on yourself, but grudge me the least 
 little thing," recur daily, and even hourly, in 
 innumerable married households from Pole to 
 
 107
 
 Pole. The learned Professor Diodorus Dryasdust 
 has constructed a full-sized figure of a woman, and 
 inside this is inserted a phonograph which at short 
 intervals repeats the familiar phrases. The instru- 
 ment, as will be seen by the following conversation, 
 provides a pleasant accompaniment to ordinary 
 conversation : — 
 
 Scene : Dining Room. 
 
 Dramatis Person/E : Husband, Wife, and 
 Automaton. 
 
 She : " I met Floriston to-day." 
 
 He : " Really ! What did he say for himself ? " 
 
 Automaton : You are the most selfish man that 
 ever lived. 
 
 She (unconcerned/)') : " He is going to be 
 married ! " 
 
 He : " What ? Floriston engaged ? Who to ? " 
 
 Automaton : You have not a friend in the 
 world. 
 
 She (a tittle annoyed) : " Do stop that silly 
 machine. He is engaged to Fridoline Frisk." 
 
 He : " Why, they have not a shilling between 
 them ! Do they expect to live on marriage ? " 
 
 1 08
 
 Automaton : You amuse yourself all day, whilst 
 I am little better than a prisoner. 
 
 She: "I suppose you think that amusing? It 
 is so like a man to laugh at his wife." 
 
 He : " Why, my dear, I specially bought the 
 machine to save you trouble . . ." 
 
 Automaton {interrupting, and with the mecha- 
 nism out of order) : You do not care how I look. 
 Everybody says so. If only others knew you as I 
 know you ! You are . . . {Here the lady stamps 
 out of the room, indignant, the Automaton bursts, 
 and the husband — bursts out laughing.) 
 
 An ingenious and invaluable invention. 
 
 109
 
 An Interview -o ^^ *o ^^>- ^o 
 
 HAVING read the biographies of many 
 people who have attained success or 
 distinction, the accounts of their careers have 
 convinced me more is to be learnt by studying the 
 lives of those who have failed than of those who 
 have succeeded. Good fortune plays so material 
 a part in the career of successful men, that, as this 
 element is an accident practically beyond human 
 control, the lives of those who have had the 
 benefits of its assistance are of little use to those 
 from whom it is withheld. 
 
 In consequence of this conviction, I called last 
 week upon Mr. Tom Jones. I found that person 
 at home at his comfortable house in Curzon Street, 
 and, having sent up my card, together with a letter 
 describing the object of my visit, I was at once 
 permitted to see him. 
 
 1 10
 
 The following is an abbreviated account of the 
 interview :— 
 
 Myself : " I understand, Sir, that at school and 
 at college your performances gave rise to consider- 
 able expectation of your future success. These 
 hopes, they tell me, were intensified in consequence 
 of your being highly-connected and rich." 
 
 Mr. Jones : " That is altogether correct." 
 
 Myself: "May I, then, inquire to what you 
 attribute the obvious failure you have made of 
 your life ? " 
 
 Mr. Jones : " Is it a failure ? I am happy, I 
 have an excellent wife, and my anxieties are 
 comparatively few." 
 
 Myself : " No doubt ; but the world knows 
 nothing of you. No one considers you a great 
 statesman, a leading politician, a shining light in 
 literature, or an authority upon any subject what- 
 ever. However estimable your wife may be in 
 private life, her name is not connected with any 
 commonly-known scandal, her dresses are not 
 described in the 'society' papers, and the Public 
 takes no interest in her. These things are 
 fame." 
 
 Mr. Jones : " My friend, we only live once ; 
 
 1 1 1
 
 and the question is whether it is preferable to be 
 happy or to be famous. Personally, I consider it 
 to be better to live peacefully, and to enjoy the 
 few years allotted to me, than to make a stir in my 
 generation, be misrepresented in the next, and be 
 forgotten in the third." 
 
 Myself: "In other words, you are indifferent 
 and indolent." 
 
 Mr. Jones : "Certainly not. Legitimate happi- 
 ness is the object of life, and contentment 
 is happiness. It is those who are continually 
 struggling to attain or to retain notoriety who 
 really fail ; not those who despise it. The more 
 people know you the more enemies you have, and 
 the more disturbance is introduced into your life. 
 It is not I who misunderstand the object of exist- 
 ence ; it is you. And pray consider what humbug 
 you lend yourself to. Our creed teaches we should 
 admire the great qualities of character, bravery, 
 generosity, sincerity, sympathy, and self-denial. 
 According to this, the newspaper posters should 
 give prominence to such announcements as : 
 ' Magnificent Bravery,' ' Glorious Generosity,' and 
 ' Grand Conduct.' But they do not. Instead of 
 these, the street boys shout, "Orrible Murder,' 
 
 I I 2
 
 'Terrible Tragedy,' 'Outrage,' 'Suicide,' and 
 ' Scandal.' " 
 
 Myself : " Strange ! Yet the eminent men I 
 have read about did not hold these views." 
 
 Mr. Jones : " They were eminent humbugs. 
 Strive to be happy yourself, and to make others 
 happy, and you will be of more substantial service 
 to humanity than all the ' eminent ' rascals put 
 together. Goodbye." 
 
 And the man was right. 
 
 "3
 
 Definitions -o -o -o> ^> ^> 
 
 PRECISION of thought and of expression is 
 a quality which I have always endeavoured 
 to attain. Besides, everything alters so rapidly 
 now, that, unless we occasionally revise our 
 definitions of terms and of phrases, we risk 
 that these shall convey different impressions to 
 different minds. I have therefore prepared the 
 following corrected definitions of terms and 
 phrases in common use amongst us at the 
 moment : — 
 
 Man. — A biped with prejudices — which he 
 calls principles. 
 
 Woman. — A biped with more prejudices — and 
 less principles. 
 
 "A Perfect Lady." — The highest praise which 
 the scullery-maid can accord to her mistress. 
 
 114
 
 A " Smart Little Woman." — A young married 
 woman in search of a husband — somebody else's 
 husband. 
 
 Marriage. — -An investment for woman and a 
 speculation for man. 
 
 Friendship. — A game for two, at which only one 
 wins. 
 
 "Society." — A hotch-potch of pretentious people 
 having nothing in common but uncommon assur- 
 ance. 
 
 Respectability. — Consistent conformity to incon- 
 sistent mediocrity. 
 
 Principle. — Any opinion which it is our 
 individual interest to support. 
 
 Reputation. — Moral capital with which to 
 deceive our neighbours. 
 
 The World. — A place in which we all hate each 
 other for a time, in expectation of loving each 
 other later for eternity. 
 
 The Flesh. — A thing which modern artists paint 
 pea- green. 
 
 A " Good Chap."— Any one who might, could, 
 would, or should lend us money. 
 
 A "Bad Chap." — The same individual after he 
 has lent us money. 
 
 IT 5
 
 A " Smart " Man.— One who affects to despise 
 all but those who despise him. 
 
 A Politician.— -One who manipulates the prin- 
 ciples of others for his own profit. 
 
 Club. — A man's refuge from home. 
 
 Church— A woman's refuge from home. 
 
 Criticism.— The judgment passed by mediocri- 
 ties upon their superiors. 
 
 Jealous Hatred.— The unconscious tribute which 
 small minds pay to great. 
 
 Contempt.— A sentiment we all express for each 
 other, and most of us feel for ourselves. 
 
 116
 
 The Sorrows of " Society ' <^> o 
 
 I HAD been exceptionally idle. Possibly 
 dinner had disagreed with me. The Cham- 
 bertin was excellent, but it is a heavy wine. 
 
 I discovered a little lady sitting opposite — a 
 trifle too well dressed to be correct and too 
 anxious-looking to be well bred. 
 
 The story she had to tell can be soon told. 
 
 Her husband — who was rich — was " something 
 in the City," and she was nothing in the West 
 End. Could I suggest a remedy ? Certainly. 
 
 "Madam," I said, "you suffer from a common 
 complaint. You wish to know people who do 
 not wish to know you." 
 
 " Precisely," said the lady. 
 
 " Have you principles ? " 
 
 117
 
 " Yes " (hesitatingly). 
 
 " Well, I am not altogether opposed to prin- 
 ciples — in the abstract — but you must not put 
 them into practice. Principles in practice are 
 generally old-fashioned, and are frequently vulgar. 
 You have relations and friends ? " 
 
 " Several." 
 
 " Your husband you must hide, your relations 
 you must renounce, your friends you must 
 abandon " 
 
 " But I have a good heart " 
 
 " Madam, it is not a good heart you require, 
 but a good cook. Be so kind as not to inter- 
 rupt me." 
 
 She begged my pardon. 
 
 "It is not only new clothes you require, but 
 new surroundings, new ideals, and new affecta- 
 tions." 
 
 " Affections ? " 
 
 " Most affections are affectations in the world 
 of fashion. You must cultivate the sense of the 
 successful and must adopt and admire the success- 
 ful for just the instant it is at the height of its 
 success. . . . Can you talk ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I fear not intelligently." 
 
 118
 
 " That is especially satisfactory. The best con- 
 versation is composed of sound without sense. 
 It is like music, harmonised noise. . . . Talk 
 loud to show you have confidence in yourself; talk 
 about nothing to show you have no confidence in 
 others. 
 
 " 'Society ' is the fortuitous concourse of fatuous 
 atoms. The appearances of principles, affections 
 and intelligence are more valued than the reality, 
 for 'society' deals in surfaces alone." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir. Two o'clock and the 
 club is closing." 
 
 " Eh ! What, madam ? " 
 
 " No, sir, I am the waiter." 
 
 "Oh, of course— quite so. . . . Call a cab 
 please." 
 
 119
 
 Donna Quixote ^> •^ ^> ^> 
 
 DON QUIXOTE drove himself mad th- 
 reading books on chivalry ; many English 
 men and women are doing that by reading para- 
 graphs about "society." The latter circum- 
 stance has suggested to the writer to adapt the 
 first and last chapters of the "Life of Don 
 Quixote " to the situation. The resemblance is 
 astonishing. 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST 
 
 Chapter I 
 
 " In a parish of London, the name of which 
 is purposely omitted, there recently lived one 
 of those women who are usually possessed of a 
 lover, an old husband, an ugly daughter and a 
 
 120
 
 brougham. The age of the lady bordered on 
 forty. 
 
 "The gentlewoman, when she was idle, which 
 was most part of the day, gave herself up to 
 reading paragraphs about ' society,' and so un- 
 settled herself by this literature that she came 
 at last to lose her wits. 
 
 "She crowded her fancy with accounts of balls, 
 entertainments, amorous adventures, Royal per- 
 sonages, peers, peeresses, and even knights, and 
 such other absurdities, and eventually, having 
 quite lost her wits, thought it necessary to 
 endeavour to be a woman of fashion, to wander 
 through the West End in quest of titled acquaint- 
 ance, and to put into practice the ill-example of 
 1 society.' " 
 
 BOOK THE EIGHTH 
 
 Chapter XXII 
 
 " As the lives of all are limited, the end of this 
 lady came. Whether it proceeded from melan- 
 choly caused by finding herself ignored, or from 
 other circumstances, she was seized with a fever 
 In the course of her illness she awoke from a 
 
 121
 
 long sleep, and said : ' My judgment is now 
 undisturbed, and free from those dark clouds of 
 folly with which my eager and continued reading 
 of the detestable paragraphs about ' society ' had 
 obscured it. Now I perceive the absurdity and 
 delusion of them, and I am only sorry I am 
 undeceived so late. I feel myself at the point of 
 death, and though I must admit I have been a 
 mad woman, I would fain so order it as to remove 
 the stain of insanity from my memory.' 
 
 " In short, after expressing her abhorrence in 
 strong and pathetic language of all paragraphs 
 about "society," the poor lady died, hoping to 
 the last her example might warn others against 
 foolish gossip about foolish people, recorded by 
 even more foolish writers." 
 
 122
 
 The East End Ladies' Association o 
 
 THE rich, like the poor, we always have with 
 us, but whilst many do much to provide for 
 the spiritual and temporal requirements of the 
 latter, how little, comparatively, is done for the 
 former ! There are few missions to Mayfair ; the 
 Bible-reader seldom approaches the lost Duchess ; 
 there are no Sunday Schools for " society " ; 
 and who is engaged in preventive and rescue 
 work amongst the young married women of the 
 West End? 
 
 Not a moment too soon the poor have decided 
 to take an active interest in the rich, and The 
 East-end Ladies' Association has been formed 
 for the purpose of endeavouring to reclaim the 
 West End. To clothe the half-naked women who 
 attend social entertainments and the theatres ; to 
 enlighten the fashionable as to the insanitary 
 
 123
 
 conditions of the life they live ; to warn them 
 against the demoralising influences which surround 
 them ; and to impress upon their minds the serious 
 consequences which may result from continued 
 improvidence, are some of the noble ends the 
 Association has in view. 
 
 The inaugural meeting was held at Spitalfields 
 recently. Mrs. Bill Sikes, in opening the pro- 
 ceedings, explained they were about to make a 
 quiet but earnest effort to reclaim the rich, whose 
 spiritual indifference, depravity, and temporal 
 improvidence were deplorable. The evils which 
 they would attempt to combat were growing and 
 terrible ones, and the Association would work, 
 not only to prevent these evils, but to rescue 
 those who had fallen within their meshes. Many 
 ladies present at the meeting had joined the 
 house-to-house visitation branch of the Associa- 
 tion, and had consented to occasionally visit even 
 the most discreditable Duchesses (much applause). 
 A creche would be established in the heart of 
 Belgravia, where, for a nominal fee, the young 
 married women could leave their children, instead 
 of entrusting them to careless servants, while they 
 — the mothers — lunched, dined, or danced (loud 
 
 124
 
 cheers). They would by their own example dis- 
 courage the use of paint, powder, perfumes, and 
 hair dyes, which were so injurious to health, and 
 such unbecoming accompaniments to a civilised 
 woman. However distasteful it might be, they 
 would undertake the care of the friendless 
 Dowagers, whose poor bare shoulders were so 
 often seen shivering at the theatre whilst endea- 
 vouring to appear young and fascinating. (The 
 Rev. Septimus Latimer was here carried out of 
 the hall in a fainting condition, the mere allusion 
 to the Dowagers having overpowered his delicate 
 nervous system ) The community had been 
 described as composed of the dancing classes at 
 one end, the drinking classes at the other, and 
 the debt-collecting classes in the middle. The 
 last were dull, and too absorbed in their self- 
 advancement to be taken into consideration. It 
 remained for the second to do their utmost for 
 the first. The conduct of the West End had 
 for long been the source of grave scandal to the 
 East End, and the labouring classes of Great 
 Britain were determined to make every effort, and 
 at whatever cost and sacrifice, to improve the 
 moral and physical conditions of life amongst 
 
 I2 5
 
 the upper criminal classes (vociferous cheers) 
 (The Rev. Septimus Latimer, who had sufficiently 
 revived to return to the platform, announced that 
 the collection would then be made. The audience 
 at once dispersed.) 
 
 126
 
 The Language of Bows -o ^> <r> 
 
 THE Language of Bows is the only universal 
 language, for every variety of bow has the 
 same meaning throughout the civilised world, 
 wherever the hat plays an important part in the 
 conduct of social intercourse. 
 
 Though this branch of social science has never 
 been attentively studied, it is not for me to pro- 
 vide an exhaustive treatise on the subject, but 
 rather to present a rough scheme which more 
 industrious observers may elaborate. 
 
 The most deferential bow calls into play the 
 entire human frame from the hat to the feet. 
 Indeed, the intensity of the respect which it is 
 intended to display can immediately be ascer- 
 tained by noticing how much or how little of 
 the human mechanism is used in the operation. 
 
 When the hand alone is raised, as if engaged 
 
 127
 
 in an abortive attempt to lift the hat, it is evident 
 the bow is a mere acknowledgment of the obse- 
 quious salutation of an inferior. Sovereigns and 
 Royal personages generally acknowledge the salutes 
 of ordinary people who are personally unknown 
 to them in this manner ; and the nearer the throne 
 a Royal personage is, the slighter is the movement 
 involved in the performance. 
 
 When the hand and the hat together take 
 active part, the salutation obviously expresses 
 more respect. 
 
 When the hand, the hat, and the head are com- 
 bined in the operation, the performance displays 
 that friendship is an element in the transaction. 
 
 When the hand, the hat, the head, and the 
 body are all brought into play, the last assuming 
 an obsequious angle, it is plain an inferior is 
 making a very humble salute to a superior. This 
 is the species of bow which an ordinary person 
 accords to a Sovereign or to a Royal personage 
 and it is called the Bow Deferential. 
 
 At Court, when the hat is absent the feet are 
 employed. Women at Court mainly bow with 
 their legs. 
 
 128
 
 These elementary principles of the Language of 
 Bows having been distinctly stated, it is permissible 
 to proceed to more intricate matters connected 
 with the subject. 
 
 The most important varieties of bows may be 
 divided into four groups : — 
 
 Group I. 
 The Respectful 
 The Deferential 
 The Obsequious 
 The Reverential 
 
 Group II. 
 The Cordial 
 The Familiar 
 The Amorous 
 The Impudent 
 
 Group III. 
 The Formal 
 The Dignified 
 The Patronising 
 
 Group IV. 
 The Indifferent 
 The Supercilious 
 The Discourteous 
 
 The Bow Obsequious is of somewhat more 
 diffident a character than the Bow Deferential, 
 and is not so demonstrative. The hat is not 
 lifted with such rapidity, nor is the sweep described 
 by the arm so extended. The head also is bent a 
 trifle lower. This bow is much affected by young 
 
 k 129
 
 curates when saluting a Bishop, and many a curate 
 has earned a living by being an adept at the 
 performance. 
 
 The Bow Cordial only requires the use of the 
 hand, the hat, and the head. This is the ordinary 
 bow which civilised men accord to women they 
 know well and whose friendship they value 
 because of their beauty, the position which they 
 occupy, the wealth of their husbands, or the 
 excellence of their dinners. The Bow Amorous 
 and the Bow Familiar merely denote the stage 
 of friendship which has been reached, and indeed 
 the Bow Familiar generally succeeds the Bow 
 Amorous at a well-defined interval. 
 
 The third group includes the Bow Formal, 
 the Bow Dignified, and the Bow Patronising, 
 and in the production of all these only the hand 
 and the hat are employed. 
 
 The fourth group, which is perhaps the most 
 interesting, is composed of the Bow Indifferent, 
 the Bow Supercilious, and the Bow Discour- 
 teous. 
 
 The Bow Indifferent is produced by slightly, 
 rigidly, and leisurely raising the hat. This is used 
 to impress poor relations and obscure country 
 
 130
 
 cousins, or in saluting the wives of former friends 
 who have diminished in social value. It is almost 
 as popular as the Bow Cordial — and much less 
 perilous. It is generally accompanied by a stare. 
 
 The Bow Supercilious is an accurate repro- 
 duction of the Bow Indifferent, but in this case 
 the person who bows does not deign to look in 
 the direction of the one who is saluted. This is 
 generally accorded to those who have been the 
 kindest friends of the person who salutes in his 
 less prosperous days. 
 
 The Bow Discourteous goes even further in 
 refining upon the other two ; for in this the head 
 is contemptuously turned away, and the salute 
 virtually implies that were it not for the conven- 
 tionalities, neither hand nor hat would move at all. 
 It is the preliminary to the "cut direct." It is 
 generally used by eldest sons of Peers soon after 
 succeeding to the title ; younger sons soon after 
 marrying an heiress ; and newly-made millionaires 
 soon after they have been adopted by Royalty. 
 
 The suburban and middle-class bow is stiff, 
 angular, self-conscious ; the arm works like the 
 
 131
 
 piston of an engine, whilst the eyes plainly say, 
 "Do I not bow well, and does this not separate 
 me from my fellows and identify me with the 
 West End ? " The essential element of good 
 bowing is studied unstudiedness. 
 
 132
 
 A Conversation in Hyde Park *o <^ 
 
 WHILST sitting in Rotten Row one morn- 
 ing, I casually entered into conversation 
 with a stranger who occupied the seat beside 
 mine. A cigar-light, if I recollect, was the origin 
 of our communication. Anyhow, we spoke of one 
 thing and of another, for a time in indifferent 
 tones, until a very gorgeously arrayed woman 
 passed us, when my neighbour, with evident 
 excitement, exclaimed " Dear me ! That lady must 
 be worth two pound ten if she is worth a sou ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " I inquired, aghast. 
 "Why, that is the Duchess of Babylon, whose 
 husband possesses an income of many hundreds 
 of thousands of pounds ! " 
 
 " Ah ! I beg your pardon," the stranger replied ; 
 " but I was estimating her value from my own point 
 of view, ... I deal in second-hand clothing." 
 
 Yes, I reflected, that is precisely what it is. 
 
 J 33
 
 We estimate all from our own limited standpoints, 
 and this accounts for the infinite variety of opinions 
 which men entertain. 
 
 The courtier recognises no merit but that which 
 bears the stamp of Royal sanction. 
 
 The Statesman can only appreciate the qualities 
 of pugnacity and self-assertion that tend to pro- 
 duce successful politicians. 
 
 The clergyman unconsciously gauges the cha- 
 racters of his fellow-men from their attendance at 
 church, and by their contributions to the offertory. 
 
 " Society " men and women estimate each other 
 according to their fluctuating social prominence. 
 
 The business man establishes for himself a 
 ready-money standard : the intolerable tyranny of 
 the merely rich. 
 
 The author and the actor measure merit by 
 the notoriety which has been achieved, and the 
 public is influenced by the vulgar test of popu- 
 larity. 
 
 For this very reason a "perfect" human being 
 is impossible, for no one can be so constituted 
 as to satisfy at one and the same time the 
 innumerable standards of valuation. Thus it is 
 that we must all in life be reconciled to endure 
 
 x 34
 
 much opposition, much misrepresentation, and 
 much misconception, and this from those even 
 who are absolutely honest and upright. Figura- 
 tively, every man and woman wanders through 
 the world wearing some shade of coloured glasses, 
 through which they appreciate each other and 
 the various objects around them. 
 
 What the miracle at the Tower of Babel 
 effected to confuse the tongues of those engaged 
 upon that imbecile task, has somehow been 
 reproduced upon our intelligence, and prevents 
 us from exactly estimating things as they are. 
 
 Why cannot the man see it is green ? What 
 a dolt the fellow is not to perceive it is yellow ! 
 Pig-headed booby not to admit it is crimson — 
 and so we all are at each other's throats 
 about trifles, unconscious of the fact that we are 
 all more or less wrong ourselves, and are merely 
 estimating matters from our own particular 
 standpoint of prejudice. 
 
 And this it is which prevents this world from 
 ever being a happy one, for we each feel 
 impelled to force others to see things even as we 
 see them ourselves, and, since it is impossible to 
 do so, we ultimately get wild with the world. 
 
 135
 
 A Modern Letter <^ -<^> ^> <^ 
 
 THESE are the days of commerce, not of 
 the classics. The English of Shakespeare 
 is being replaced by that of the Stock Exchange. 
 The following letter is written in the style of the 
 future : — 
 
 "Congratulate me. It has been decided that 
 FitzFoodle and I shall amalgamate, and the 
 articles of association are to be signed in 
 December. The prospectus will be issued im- 
 mediately, but I wish you to know of the 
 proposal before it is published in the papers. 
 His promoters seem pleased, and mine are 
 delighted, for, being the eldest son of a solvent 
 Duke, he is a gilt edged security. Fitz, of course, 
 takes me at my face value, for, though ours is 
 a very old-established firm — or family, as elderly 
 people still say — our house has long been in 
 difficulties. 
 
 136
 
 " Please tell your brother Jack of the arrange- 
 ment, and ask him to consider this a letter of 
 regret. I fear he will be disappointed, for he 
 apparently thought I had given him an option 
 on my affections. But business is business, and 
 it will not do to mix sentiment with marriage. 
 Most men are influenced by sentiment in their 
 choice of a wife; most women by business — that 
 is why more women than men obtain a solid 
 advantage by the transaction. 
 
 " How right I was to make a corner in elder 
 sons from the first instead of dabbling in ordinary 
 and speculative stock, and in avoiding social 
 bucket-shops and the entertainments of out- 
 side brokers ! The best business seldom strays 
 into second-rate offices. 
 
 "So soon as we are settled you must come 
 to stay with us — but mind, there must be no 
 punting, or flirting, as they foimerly called it — 
 with Fitz. He and I will boom you in 'society'; 
 we will rig the matrimonial market and unlimber 
 you on a millionaire Kaffir or Westralian. You 
 are an ideal stock for such a speculative buyer 
 to gamble with in 'society.' 
 
 " Fanny, who married the season before last, 
 
 137
 
 has just presented to her husband an interim 
 dividend at the rate of two per annum — in other 
 words, twins. Fanny and he are very poor, but 
 live astonishingly well. It is said there is a 
 collateral security ! Let us be charitable accord- 
 ing to the manner of our kind, and — hope for 
 the worst ! 
 
 "Fitz has just called, so I must foreclose." 
 
 138
 
 The New ^> <^y <^ *o ^> 
 
 THE new gentleman is the old gentleman 
 vulgarised. 
 The new lady is the old lady demoralised. 
 The new daughter is the old daughter revolu- 
 tionised. 
 The new conscience is the old conscience 
 
 compromised. 
 The new principles are the old principles 
 
 popularised. 
 The new vices are the old vices legitimatised. 
 The new " society " is the old " society " 
 
 commercialised. 
 The new manners are the old manners brutal- 
 
 ised. 
 The new art is the old art disorganised. 
 The new wit is the old wit plagiarised. 
 The new journalism is the old journalism 
 
 Americanised. 
 The new government is the old government 
 
 municipalised. 
 And the new danger is the old danger — realised. 
 
 r 39
 
 2000 O <^y *0 "O O <^y 
 
 THE Twentieth Century is to be the century 
 of change : science, which went at the trot, 
 is to go at the gallop. We think we know much ; 
 those who live a hundred years hence will wonder 
 we knew so little. 
 
 The following is prematurely quoted from the 
 Daily Cinemafograf>/i of December 31, 2000: — 
 
 " On the eve of the Twenty-first Century, it will 
 be in the minds of many to contrast the present 
 with the past. All are aware gigantic strides have 
 been made recently in the direction of progress, 
 but few realise that only a hundred years ago men 
 travelled in trains over the land and in ships over 
 the water ; that they communicated with each other 
 by telegraph ; that their streets and houses were 
 lit with gas or with an early adaptation of elec- 
 tricity ; that coal was used in almost every house- 
 
 140
 
 hold ; that hundreds of" millions were spent in 
 taking instead of in saving life ; that the soldier 
 was more honoured than the surgeon ; that well- 
 dressed women wore furs in the day whilst the sun 
 was shining, and half stripped themselves in the 
 evening ; and that it was not generally acknow- 
 ledged that one of the most important of duties is 
 to enjoy the legitimate pleasures of this exquisitely 
 designed world ! 
 
 " Only a century ago selfishness and supersti- 
 tion still bound our predecessors, but science has 
 removed those bonds from us. As we walk in the 
 silent streets and look up to the smokeless sky, where 
 thousands of aerial cabs, carriages, and carts hurry 
 hither and thither, we wonder how man can have 
 lived without flying. Even yet we are surrounded 
 by a decaying past. Underground London is said 
 to be honeycombed with tunnels in which trains 
 ran up to fifty years ago ! In many parts of the 
 country telegraph and telephone poles still stand 
 with dangling wire, though wireless telephony has 
 long since superseded those older methods of 
 communication. Builders occasionally come upon 
 leaden piping through which gas was conducted 
 when gas was an illuminant. At Plymouth the 
 
 141
 
 Government retains from a sentimental motive a 
 fleet of ironclads, though electricity has long ago 
 made warfare on the water impossible ! 
 
 " Perhaps the most striking feature of modern 
 civilisation is that there are no ugly women. The 
 improved conditions of life, the place which legiti- 
 mate enjoyment has in the modern scheme of 
 existence, the extirpation of many forms of disease, 
 and the rational attitude of mind of the average 
 woman have worked wonders. No modern play- 
 writer would think of elaborating a plot in which 
 married life was presented as having a dark side, 
 for the woman of to-day is a joy in her own house, 
 and not only in the houses of others, as there is 
 reason to believe was the case a hundred years 
 ago. Everywhere we see peace, prosperity, pro- 
 gress, and it is, therefore, with feelings of the 
 utmost gratitude we watch the departing hours of 
 the twentieth century." 
 
 142
 
 The New Hospitality *o *o *o 
 
 H 
 
 OSPITALITY is almost a Christian virtue. 
 This is how we exercise it now : — 
 
 " To the Dowager Duchess of Babylon. 
 
 "Dear Duchess of Babylon, — Mr. Bulling- 
 don, the African explorer and missionary, an old 
 friend of my husband, is to dine with us on 
 Wednesday, May the 16th. Knowing the interest 
 you take in the good work we are endeavouring to 
 carry out in those regions, I am anxious to bring 
 Mr. Bullingdon to your notice, as your assistance 
 and influence would, of course, be of the highest 
 service both to him and to the cause. Should 
 you happen to be disengaged upon the 16th, it 
 would give Mr. Bounderby and myself much 
 pleasure if you will dine with us that evening. 
 
 " Believe me to be, dear Duchess of Babylon, 
 " Very faithfully yours, 
 
 " Ellenore Bounderby." 
 143
 
 D. of B. : " The horrid pushing woman I met 
 at the Bazaar in aid of the Home for Pauper 
 Peers. No great harm in accepting though. Get 
 a dinner for nothing and appropriate Bullingdon 
 for my own use." (Accepts accordingly.) 
 
 V -** -i ; 
 
 "To the Rev. Obadiah Bullingdon. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Bullingdon, — Should you have 
 forgotten me, may I remind you we travelled 
 together, several years ago, in the same carriage 
 from Paris to Versailles ? A very old friend of 
 mine, Maria Duchess of Babylon, desires to make 
 your acquaintance, being deeply interested in the 
 work which you have so much at heart. The 
 Duchess is to dine with us on May the 16th, and 
 both my husband and I hope you will give us the 
 pleasure of your company at dinner that evening. 
 I take the opportunity to congratulate you on the 
 recent glorious success you have achieved in 
 Africa. Ten thousand natives killed and two 
 baptized ! This is indeed magnificent. I enclose 
 my cheque for ^5 (five pounds) as a modest offer- 
 ing towards the Mission. 
 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 "Ellenore Bounderby." 
 144
 
 O. B. : " Ellenore Bounderby ? Never heard 
 of the woman. Grand to meet a Duchess, though. 
 Capital business converting niggers, especially 
 when you convert them into Duchesses and five- 
 pound notes." (Accepts.) 
 
 Ellenore Bounderby : " Must ask Alice 
 Kekelwich and her husband. It will drive them 
 wild to hear I have hooked a Duchess and the 
 explorer." 
 
 "To Mrs. Kekelwich. 
 
 " My dearest Ally, — You fickle little fiend ! 
 You have, I suppose, so many fine friends now you 
 no longer value the old. I love you, though, too 
 much to let you ever forget me. The Duchess 
 of Babylon (Maria), who, of course, you already 
 know, has invited herself to dinner here on the 
 1 6th, and is to bring Mr. Bullingdon, a great 
 explorer, whom she wishes to introduce to us. 
 John and I are humble, unobtrusive folk, un- 
 accustomed to the society of Duchesses and 
 celebrities, so will you both come and help us 
 through the dreaded ordeal ? I feel as if I were 
 
 l 145
 
 to have a tooth drawn ! Now mind, you cannot 
 refuse, &c., &c. 
 
 " Your ever loving 
 
 " Ellenore Bounderby. 
 
 " PS. — Please do not wear the pink costume you 
 had four years ago. It quite disfigured my darling 
 Ally." 
 
 A. K. : " Beast ! How did she get a Duchess? 
 And as if I had but one dress in all that time ! " 
 
 " To Mrs. Bounderby. 
 
 " My Own Darling, — You are too foolish ! 
 Of course Tom and I will willingly help you, you 
 poor old thing ! How we have laughed, though, 
 when we pictured you and the good husband 
 helplessly floundering amongst Duchesses and 
 notabilities ! A clear case of cruelty to the 
 obscure. We little worldlings will rally to the 
 rescue. Was it not the Duchess of Babylon 
 though who was mixed up in that dreadful scandal 
 some years ago? In any case, she seldom goes 
 about now. No, dearest, I shall not wear the 
 
 146
 
 frock you object to, but which it was I cannot at 
 this distance of time remember, &c, &c. 
 " Your ever loving, 
 
 " Alice Kekelwich. 
 
 " PS.— Oh ! I recollect it now. It was that 
 cheap one I had for the party you gave when you 
 left Bayswater and set up in Belgravia." 
 
 147
 
 Interview with a Celebrated Actress <^x 
 
 THE lady was knitting. 
 " I see you are industrious," I said. 
 
 " Yes. I am knitting socks for crippled peers." 
 
 Myself: "How very good of you! I have 
 called to ' interview ' you, and hope you will not 
 object to my doing so." 
 
 Mrs. M. : "I shall be delighted. Afy maid 
 wakes me at six ; I then take a tepid bath, after 
 which I have a cup of cocoa, and . . ." 
 
 Myself: "Oh! I beg your pardon. I do not 
 require those minute details. . . . The stage is 
 undoubtedly the profession of the future . . ." 
 
 Mrs. M. (interrupting): " Of the future! Of 
 the present, you mean." 
 
 Myself : " Well, yes. Now, may I assume the 
 secret of your success is that you take infinite 
 pains? " 
 
 148
 
 Mrs. M. : " Unquestionably. 1 frequently con- 
 tribute articles to periodicals ; I take active interest 
 in home and foreign politics ; I am engaged in a 
 multitude of financial undertakings ; my acquaint- 
 ance is enormous ; I attend every fashionable 
 entertainment, marriage, and funeral ; I assist at 
 innumerable bazaars ; I hunt, skate, shoot, and 
 yacht ; I undergo the customary autumnal cure ; 
 I . . ." 
 
 Myself : " Quite so, quite so ; but my ques- 
 tion referred exclusively to your performance upon 
 the stage." 
 
 Mrs. M. {with an ill-repressed yawn) \ "Oh! 
 Well, success there is almost entirely dependent 
 upon elaborate scenery and expensive costumes." 
 
 Myself : " You surprise me." 
 
 Mrs. M. : " English actors and actresses were 
 never so prominent as they are now ; and I attri- 
 bute this to their devoting their energies almost 
 exclusively to other matters than their professional 
 duties." 
 
 Myself : " How very astonishing ! " 
 
 Mrs. M. : " Yes, we dominate in politics ; we 
 patronise ' society ' ; we countenance the Church ; 
 we are the arbiters in literature and art ; we . . ." 
 
 149
 
 Myself: "But how have you obtained this 
 influence?" 
 
 Mrs. M. : "Publicity; continual publicity. I 
 seldom travel but my jewel-case is stolen. My 
 house continually catches fire. Twice a year the 
 influenza drives me to death's door. If any 
 prominent person marries, the whole profession 
 contributes wedding presents ; if any die, the 
 whole profession presents wreaths. Our names 
 figure in every subscription list. But I am not so 
 fortunate as some of my colleagues ! " 
 
 Myself : " How is that ? " 
 
 Mrs. M. : " I have never been in a railway 
 accident." 
 
 Myself: "But surely that is not a desirable 
 incident ? " 
 
 Mrs. M. {emphatically) : " Most desirable. 
 There is nothing so effective as to be rescued — 
 uninjured — from the wreckage of a train, and, 
 after having monopolised the attention of the few 
 able-bodied passengers for a considerable time, to 
 murmur : ' Leave me, attend to the others?" 
 
 Myself : " But to return to my original ques- 
 tion ; what about the acting ? " 
 
 Mrs. M. [with another yawii) : " Well, we now 
 
 150
 
 do most of our acting off\\vt stage ; it is immeasur- 
 ably more profitable." 
 
 Myself: "But does your connection with the 
 fashionable world assist you to establish a reputa- 
 tion with the play-going public ? " 
 
 Mrs. M. : " Immensely. We fill the theatre on 
 the first night with Royalties, Duchesses, Cabinet 
 Ministers, millionaires, and social celebrities, and 
 we admit the critics to inform the public these 
 personages were present. The suburban and pro- 
 vincial public are anxious to identify themselves 
 with those who are prominent in the world of 
 fashion, and, therefore, follow them. What the 
 latter have seen the former must see too, or lose 
 ground." 
 
 Myself : " Then I am to understand that the 
 acting now is of little importance." 
 
 Mrs. M. : "Certainly. Of very little impor- 
 tance indeed. It is the same as regards literature 
 and art. Men and women never make their own 
 names now ; they have their names made for them 
 and totally irrespective of their work." 
 
 Myself : " You have a very beautiful house 
 here " (looking around the luxuriously furnished 
 draiving-room) . 
 
 J5 1
 
 Mrs. M. : " I am glad you like it. You see, 
 we earn salaries that are larger than those paid to 
 Cabinet Ministers, Ambassadors, or Judges. How- 
 ever, we have innumerable duties to fulfil." 
 
 Myself : " On the stage ? " 
 
 Mrs. M. : " No. Off the stage. Goodbye." 
 
 Myself : " Goodbye." 
 
 152
 
 Social Advertising ^> -o ^> ^> 
 
 T 
 
 HE following letter is instructive— it is also 
 entertaining : — 
 
 "Sir,— I am not ashamed of it, I am a Knight 
 of the Counter. I sold my goods and bought a 
 title. My middle-class family then persuaded me 
 to remove to Mayfair, and I have been a miserable 
 man ever since. 
 
 "Some months ago my wife had the misfortune 
 to lose a half-sister, a lady we had not seen often 
 since our removal to Mayfair. A few days later 
 there appeared this advertisement in a fashionable 
 newspaper : — 
 
 " ' Lady wishes to express her gratitude to 
 
 the many kind friends who have offered her their 
 sympathy. As so many letters have been received 
 
 by her, Lady regrets it will be impossible 
 
 153
 
 to answer them all, and, therefore, employs this 
 method of conveying her thanks and excuses.' 
 
 "To my certain knowledge not a single letter 
 concerning the loss of her half-sister ever entered 
 the house. 
 
 " A little latei I was much pained by reading 
 the following paragraph in an evening news- 
 paper : — ■ 
 
 " ' A daring robbery was committed last night 
 
 at the house of Sir . The thieves, who 
 
 escaped unnoticed, are said to have obtained 
 possession of several thousand of pounds' worth 
 of jewels. The matter is in the hands of the 
 police, who observe the utmost reticence. We 
 understand that the celebrated diamond tiara 
 
 which Lady inherited from her mother was 
 
 overlooked by the thieves.' 
 
 "The last sentence quieted my fears, for my 
 wife never had a diamond tiara, and inherited 
 only a few unpaid bills from her estimable mother. 
 The only foundation for the paragraph was that 
 
 154
 
 some loose change, imprudently left on a dressing- 
 table, was missing. 
 
 "Another day I learnt through a newspaper 
 my son had been robbed of his pocket-book 
 containing a large sum in notes and some valu- 
 able securities. That amused me, for on the 
 morning of the supposed theft I had advanced 
 him a sovereign out of the allowance of jQz a 
 week which, on principle, I refuse to increase. 
 
 "But my alarm was serious when lately I read 
 this :— 
 
 " ' Carriage Accident. 
 
 " ' An accident which might have been attended 
 with fatal consequences occurred in Regent Street 
 
 this afternoon. As Lady was driving the 
 
 Duchess of in her victoria the spirited horses 
 
 bolted, and, together with the carriage, dashed 
 against the lamp-post that stands on the refuge 
 opposite to Vigo Street. Fortunately neither the 
 
 Duchess nor Lady sustained any injuries. 
 
 The coachman and groom, however, were thrown 
 from the box, and were subsequently taken to 
 the nearest hospital. There is reason to believe 
 both will eventually recover.' 
 
 i5S
 
 " As there was this element of truth, to wit, 
 that a Duchess — a foreigner whose claim to the 
 title is not altogether above suspicion — had 
 driven with my wife that afternoon, I was natu- 
 rally alarmed. On my return home I learnt 
 one of the wheels had grazed the curb of the 
 refuge, and from .~o slender a circumstance, with 
 the assistance of a friendly journalist, my ingenious 
 and enterprising wife had contrived to make known 
 to the world that a Duchess had accompanied her 
 in the victoria. 
 
 "There was, I admit it, much unreal life at 
 the shop. The goods were not always what the 
 salesmen said they were — but there is much more 
 of the unreal outside. 
 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 
 '■ A Counter Courtier." 
 
 156
 
 The Upper Criminal Class o o 
 
 SOME ten or twelve years ago, Fred Danvers, 
 who was then a general favourite in the 
 West End, became so involved in debt that he 
 was unable to escape bankruptcy. He left 
 London, and commenced life again in Australia. 
 Having made a small fortune, he recently returned 
 to England, and we met last week at the club. 
 After expressing the pleasure it gave him to meet 
 me again, Fred Danvers said — ■ 
 
 "Let us sit down, and tell me about my old 
 friends. Where is FitzFoodle? Fitz was a capital 
 fellow." 
 
 Myself : " Yes. ... A very good fellow. . . . 
 He cheated at cards and now lives in conceal- 
 ment on the Continent." 
 
 Danvers : " Dear me ! How very distressing ! 
 
 !57
 
 . . . Well, what has become of Roland Chivers ? 
 {Heartily.) I did like him." 
 
 Myself : " Poor Roland ; he got into, debt, 
 his friends avoided him, and, being then nothing 
 in the West End, he became 'something in the 
 City,' where he was mixed up in a peculiarly 
 scandalous fraud, was convicted, and is, I believe, 
 still in gaol." 
 
 Danvers : " Roland Chivers in gaol ? . . . 
 You must be romancing. How terrible ! . . . 
 Is little Fridoline Frisk married yet ? " 
 
 Myself : " Yes, and divorced, also deserted. 
 She lives, they tell me, unconventionally in Paris." 
 
 Danvers: "That is astounding! . . . What 
 has become of Floriston, who was so devoted 
 to her?" 
 
 Myself : " Lord Floriston forged the name of 
 a rich financier, and no one knows where he is 
 
 now." 
 
 Danvers : " Floriston a forger ! . . . This is 
 altogether amazing ! At least the highly-respect- 
 able old lady his mother has done nothing 
 discreditable ? " 
 
 Myself: "The Duchess, after the death of 
 her husband, stole the family jewels and sold 
 
 158
 
 them for next to nothing to a dealer. There 
 was some talk of prosecuting her, but, to avoid 
 causing a scandal, the theft was overlooked." 
 
 Danvers {evidently bewildered by the combina- 
 tion of misfortunes) : " Tell me, old man . . . 
 Pray pardon me for asking so brutal a question 
 . . . but . . . Are there any of my old friends 
 who are not criminals ? " 
 
 Myself : " No. I do not think there are." 
 
 i59
 
 Woman as a Work of Art ^> <^ 
 
 SINCE the very commencement of the world 
 woman has been treated — and ill-treated — 
 in a great variety of ways. 
 
 In view of the excessive increase of the use 
 of paint, pastes, powders, and other deceptive 
 embellishments, woman should for the future be 
 considered purely as a work of Art. 
 
 Thus, in announcing that the Duchess of 
 Babylon has returned to town for the season, 
 the paragraph would be worded as follows : — 
 
 " Yesterday the Duchess of Babylon inaugu- 
 rated her forty-third exhibition in Belgrave Square, 
 and it is no slight praise to assert that she again 
 maintains her former high average. Her curves 
 are always bold, if at times audacious; the flesh 
 tints are excellent, and the hair-effects clever, 
 though perhaps a trifle woolly. Her breadth of 
 
 1 60
 
 tone is admirable, whilst dignity of composition 
 is preserved in combination with careful attention 
 to detail and to general finish." 
 
 Other notices might run thus : — 
 
 " Mrs. A— — contributes two daughters this 
 Season, who cannot be regarded otherwise than 
 as pot-boilers. It is to be regretted an artist 
 who has displayed unquestionable ability on 
 previous occasions should jeopardise her reputa- 
 tion by turning out such trashy, flashy work as 
 we have before us now." 
 
 " Since her return from the restorers at Hom- 
 
 burg, Mrs. B has, as we expected she would, 
 
 greatly improved. We are now able to detect 
 the delicate colouring and the elaborate work- 
 manship which was before obscured by unneces- 
 sary varnish. In Mrs. B the nation has 
 
 secured an important example of the new New 
 York school. She possesses considerable freedom 
 of style, but her middle-distance is a trifle 
 pompous." 
 
 m 161
 
 "Mrs. E is altogether out of drawing. 
 
 She is, moreover, a mere copy of work which 
 is in itself commonplace and insignificant. Her 
 composition is scattered, her painting lumpy, and 
 her perspective faulty ; she is ambitious without 
 possessing merit." 
 
 " Lady G has attempted originality and 
 
 has only succeeded in attaining eccentricity. To 
 dab colours on at random is not Art, and we 
 cannot too frequently insist upon this. Angular 
 curves, slovenly execution, unwholesome atmo- 
 sphere, and woodeny effects are altogether abom- 
 inable. Lady G has joined the Contortionist 
 
 school." 
 
 • l'he sensation of the season promises to be 
 
 achieved by Miss L , an exhibitor whose work, 
 
 we believe, has never yet been seen in London. 
 Her method is bold, and her outlines are clever. 
 The colouring is brilliant, but intelligently 
 restrained, and she possesses a sensuous realism 
 which cannot but be appreciated." 
 
 162
 
 "The Widow H contributes some excellent 
 
 enamel work this year, and her pate-sur-pate 
 plaques possess much merit. Unfortunately, as 
 we have observed before, her glaze is still faulty 
 and under unfavourable conditions is apt to 
 crack." 
 
 " Mrs. Z exhibits nothing of serious im- 
 portance. There is a decided absence of bold- 
 ness — initiative — in her present style. The curves 
 are weak, and the painting is of the tea-tray order, 
 and shows an utter want of life. It is an altogether 
 depressing performance." 
 
 163
 
 La Femme de Luxe^y <iy <ix ^> 
 
 THERE are in these days, the train de luxe, 
 edition de luxe, and hotel de luxe, but it 
 seems to have entirely escaped attention that 
 there is also the femme de luxe. It is the latter 
 that is rapidly ruining the less happily-conditioned 
 of her sex. The femme de luxe associates only 
 with the rich and prominent, lives but for amuse- 
 ment, spends money recklessly, and has no 
 respect for either the Ten Commandments or 
 the Upper-Ten Commandments. The ordinary 
 woman who still obeys the laws and by-laws of 
 good conduct sees the femme de luxe discard 
 them all with impunity, and naturally considers 
 she has as much right to do this as has the 
 former. " I should be as attractive had I but 
 her clothes and jewels," she says to herself. 
 " It is only a matter of courage and opportunity. 
 
 164
 
 I, too, must rebel against restrictions, and I 
 shall soon be as much admired as she is." 
 Many of the sex are now more or less in this 
 condition ; they crave for finer clothing, and 
 for more substantial friends whose influence 
 will support them whilst they are freeing them- 
 selves from the restraints imposed upon ordinary 
 women. They all want to be femmes de luxe, 
 and, undoubtedly, if misconduct is tolerated, 
 and even admired, in some, there is no reason 
 why it should be resented in others. 
 
 This fem?ne de luxe and homme de luxe difficulty 
 is the disease which, spreading with enormous 
 rapidity, threatens to remove good conduct from 
 the civilised world. A handful of men break 
 every law, Divine or human, and swindle with 
 impunity, and with them are a handful of women 
 who have abandoned restraint. These are held 
 up to the rest of the community as of such 
 social importance that their misconduct is to be 
 admired. 
 
 165
 
 Man — as He Should Be ^> ^ ^> 
 
 WITHIN the last quarter of a century the 
 displacement of man by woman in most 
 of the ordinary occupations of life has been 
 remarkable. That women are not yet soldiers 
 is true, but even this career cannot reasonably 
 be closed to them much longer. Obviously, such 
 a profession as the Army, in which uniform, 
 appearance and display are material elements, is 
 one for which woman is especially suited. 
 
 Politics are chiefly a matter of facility of 
 expression, of contention, ingenuity, and the 
 power of persuasion. All these are qualities 
 which women admittedly possess in a much 
 greater degree than does the ordinary man. 
 Their command of speech, their tact, religious 
 temperament, and sympathy with suffering, par- 
 ticularly adapt them for the Church, whilst the 
 intuitive genius of women for haggling and bar- 
 gaining makes it evident that in trade and 
 commerce woman should supersede man. Being 
 
 1 66
 
 instinctively gentle, compassionate, and sym- 
 pathetic, it cannot be denied Nature intended 
 her for the medical profession. Thus it will be 
 perceived that the politicians, priests, soldiers, 
 doctors, merchants, and bankers of the future 
 must assuredly be women. Man has had his 
 day. Superstition, ignorance and oppression 
 have enabled him to usurp and to hold for 
 many centuries the position which by right of 
 character, and by the design of Nature, was 
 intended for woman. 
 
 Man should prepare to assume those household 
 and other humble duties which up till now have 
 been reserved for women. A man-cook is noto- 
 riously more skilful than a woman-cook. Here 
 we have, then, an immediate opening for a very 
 army of disestablished males. A man nursery- 
 maid would obviously be more suitable than the 
 young girls now employed in this arduous work. 
 He would be better able to protect the children, 
 more fitted to trundle the perambulators, to carry 
 the heavy infants, as also to exercise authority 
 over his youthful charges. As dressmakers and 
 milliners, too, every circumstance points to the 
 male as the right sex for these occupations. Man's 
 
 167
 
 fingers are stronger to ply the needle and his 
 constitution more adapted to endure the long 
 hours of labour and the confinement in close and 
 unwholesome work-rooms. Moreover, history 
 proves man possesses more artistic capacity than 
 woman, for the overwhelming majority of cele- 
 brated artists since the commencement of the 
 world have been men. 
 
 Consider besides the result of this reversal of 
 incongruous duties. What immeasurably greater 
 political enthusiasm there will be under the rule 
 of a lovely woman Prime Minister ! How much 
 more interest will be taken in our Parliamentary 
 representatives ! How welcome will the lady- 
 doctor be, and what a charm will at once be 
 imparted to otherwise painful operations when we 
 know that one of the professional beauties of 
 the day is delicately handling the knife ! Then 
 think of the pleasant transformation that will 
 come over a visit to the banker or solicitor when 
 these will be fascinating ladies ! What patriotism 
 will be evoked when we behold the gallant regi- 
 ments of women sallying out in becoming 
 uniforms, to fight for their country, their homes, 
 and their men ! 
 
 168
 
 "The Bitter Cry of Belgravia " ^ ^> 
 
 " T WAS educated at Eton and Oxford, and at 
 A both it was considered to be unbecoming 
 to study. As I had not worked, I was unsuccess- 
 ful at the competitive examination for the Army. 
 
 " After I had left College, I connected myself 
 with a firm of stockbrokers where I received a 
 small commission on the shares I sold to friends 
 in the West End. The more shares I sold the 
 more friends I lost, and, consequently, the more 
 friends I had to make — and, to achieve the latter 
 purpose, the more money I had to spend to appear 
 prosperous, and in entertaining. 
 
 " It is supposed I am a happy, very popular, and 
 moderately successful man, because I am generally 
 cheerful, have a large circle of acquaintance, and 
 live luxuriously. I am cheerful because it would 
 be suicidal to be serious ; however pleasant those 
 
 169
 
 I know are to me, there are few of them that do 
 not mistrust me ; and I live luxuriously to be on 
 the level occupied by the rich whose money I 
 want to reach. 
 
 " In an evil moment I married a pretty girl 
 whom I admired, and was desperately in love with 
 me. When she became better acquainted with 
 my character and circumstances her affection 
 turned to contempt, and now she goes her own 
 way regardless of my feelings or reputation. My 
 children do not respect me, and their mother 
 neglects them. 
 
 " Could I have shaped my life otherwise ? As 
 a boy at school and a young man at the Univer- 
 sity, I was naturally influenced by the general 
 contempt entertained at both for the studious, and 
 having failed, in consequence of my idleness, to 
 obtain a commission for the Army, there was no 
 means of earning a livelihood open to me but the 
 one I adopted. I should have been useless in the 
 Colonies — the more so since I had no capital — as 
 a clerk, who would have employed me ? and to 
 have enlisted would have been to disgrace myself. 
 I had, apparently, nothing to do but to trade upon 
 my friends — a detestable career, but one which 
 
 170
 
 thousands of West-end men are compelled to 
 adopt in existing circumstances. 
 
 " I have confided to you the story of my life 
 for a purpose ; to wit, that you may make it 
 known how the discouragement of work which is 
 general at the ' best ' Public Schools and at the 
 Universities in England is ruining thousands who 
 are educated at those institutions." 
 
 • • . • • 
 
 It is a coincidence that this second letter should 
 have reached me in time to be published with the 
 first : — 
 
 " My parents are ordinary people — from the 
 social point of view. They made many sacrifices 
 to enable me to have an excellent education, and 
 impressed upon me the necessity of distinguishing 
 myself at College. At the school where I was 
 educated most of the boys were in circumstances 
 that resembled mine, and work was encouraged by 
 the attitude of the masters, who were intolerant of 
 idleness. 
 
 " I passed my examination for the Civil Service, 
 and soon obtained an appointment in India, where 
 I have served for twenty years, and have already 
 
 171
 
 had some distinctions conferred upon me as a 
 reward for my labours. 
 
 " There never was a time in this country when 
 intelligent studious boys had such opportunities 
 open to them as they have now. The 'middle 
 class ' boys of the sort are replacing the indolent 
 ' upper-class ' boys by thousands annually, in 
 the Church, Army, and Civil Service. The 
 change is remarkable in even more important 
 directions — it is common for ' middle-class ' men 
 to obtain a seat in Parliament, to occupy a place 
 in the Cabinet, or to be promoted to the Peerage." 
 
 In former days the "upper-class" maxim was 
 that the eldest son should live on the estate, the 
 younger sons on the State. The State has been 
 freed from that condition of slavery by successive 
 reforms, and the change, in its consequences, 
 amounts to a revolution. The full effects of the 
 alteration are beginning to be felt acutely only 
 now, when the " upper-class educated " find 
 themselves unable to compete successfully with 
 the " middle-class educated " at the examinations, 
 and unfitted to replace them in the counting-house 
 or behind the counter. 
 
 172
 
 Revised Proverbs ^y -^ ^> <^ 
 
 THE wisdom of our ancestors, it is forgotten, 
 was the outcome of the circumstances of 
 their times, and is in many instances not appli- 
 cable to the greatly altered conditions of to-day — ■ 
 yet the lives of thousands of our fellow-country- 
 men and women are still influenced by plausible 
 phrases that have ceased to be true. " A rolling 
 stone gathers no moss" was a judicious precept 
 when almost every village and town was much 
 more isolated than they are now, and when the 
 stranger was naturally opposed in all of them. 
 The " rolling stone " now often obtains the most 
 opportunities. The Americans are not influenced 
 much by such old-world "wisdom." They try a 
 hundred and one professions and employments 
 until they come upon the one for which they 
 are best suited. The ordinary Englishman is a 
 
 173
 
 soldier because his father was in the Army before 
 him, or in Parliament because his grandfather was 
 there, though physically or mentally he himself 
 may not be adapted to either. There are hundreds 
 of delicate and diminutive officers in our Army 
 who were meant more for a ball-room than a 
 cannon-ball, and dozens of Members in the House 
 of Commons to whom a Blue Book is as incom- 
 prehensible as it would be to a bluebottle. A 
 Royal Commission should be appointed to ex- 
 amine our proverbs, and to remove from currency 
 those that have become misleading by the greatly 
 altered conditions of the time. 
 
 •M. JA. OA. 
 
 -VV W W 
 
 Our ancestors were curiously incompetent ; it 
 is otherwise unaccountable that we should have 
 discovered in fifty years what they were unable 
 to discover in centuries. Steam, electricity, tele- 
 phones, education, adulteration, modern art, New 
 Journalism, free thought and Free Trade all be- 
 long to our own times, whilst our ancestors con- 
 tributed only such frivolities as ghosts, hot-cross 
 buns, plum-pudding, principle, prejudice, and self- 
 
 '74
 
 respect. Compare the proverbs which they have 
 handed down to us with the wisdom of our day, 
 and it will become apparent how ignorant, un- 
 intelligent, and even hopelessly incapable were the 
 many myriads who came before us : — 
 
 "When fortune smiles take the advantage." — 
 When the advantage smiles take the fortune. 
 
 " Marriage halves our griefs and doubles our 
 joys."— Marriage doubles our griefs and halves 
 our joys. 
 
 " 'Tis money makes the mare to go." — Tis the 
 mare makes the money to go. 
 
 " Muddles at home make husbands that roam." 
 — Husbands that roam make muddles at home. 
 
 "A friend in need is a friend indeed." — A 
 friend indeed is the friend in need. 
 
 " Thinkers govern toilers." — Toilers govern 
 thinkers. 
 
 " Fools build houses and wise men buy them." 
 — Wise men build houses and fools buy them. 
 
 " Save me from my friends." — Save my friends 
 from me. 
 
 " To know the disease is half the cure." — To 
 know the cure is half the disease. 
 
 " Better to go to bed supperless than to rise in 
 
 175
 
 debt." — Better to rise in debt than to go to bed 
 supperless. 
 
 " For what you can do yourself, do not rely 
 upon another." — For what you can rely upon 
 another do not do yourself. 
 
 "He that longs most lacketh most." — He that 
 lacketh most longs most. 
 
 " Money is more easily made than made use 
 of."— Money is more easily made use of than 
 made. 
 
 "Necessity knows no law." — Law knows no 
 necessity. 
 
 i 76
 
 The Gods of Belgravia ^> ^> *o 
 
 THE mythology of Mayfair is a subject that 
 has until now entirely escaped attention. 
 That is the more curious as the "upper-class" 
 system is little else than a survival of the Greek 
 and Roman mythology, of which Hesiod wrote 
 over seven and twenty centuries ago : — 
 
 " Some thirty thousand gods on earth we find 
 Subjects of Zeus, and guardians of mankind.'' 
 
 The basis of the " upper-class " system is the 
 principle that there are some thirty thousand men 
 and women of superior origin — to whom are added 
 others who have been raised to god-like rank — 
 who are entrusted with the control of humanity ! 
 These gods and goddesses disport themselves 
 much as did those of ancient times. They are 
 
 N 177
 
 not subject to the ordinary code of morality ; 
 they frequently condescend to intrigue with the 
 merely human ; they occasionally make mis- 
 alliances ; they have their ambitions, jealousies, 
 disputes, and difficulties ; and are only united in 
 the determination to retain control of the world. 
 
 On the other hand, the multitude of the merely 
 human regard the gods and goddesses of Mayfair 
 with the utmost respect, conferring this im- 
 mediately even on the meanest amongst them- 
 selves who happen to be raised to the upper rank. 
 The merely human readily excuse the follies and 
 failings of the gods and goddesses, and regard 
 with horror the unbelievers who denounce the 
 system as ridiculous and discreditable ! 
 
 The parallel is so complete that it is obvious 
 the condition is a survival of the mythologies of 
 Greece and Rome. 
 
 •>/• «V- -7- 
 
 '/V '/V w 
 
 The Peerage is merely a survival of the mytho- 
 logical system. Jupiter and Juno are obviously 
 the kings and queens ; Mars is reproduced in the 
 military peers — the gods of war : Neptune in the 
 
 178
 
 naval peers — the gods of the ocean ; Vulcan in 
 the manufacturing peers ; Bacchus in the brewing 
 and distilling peers — the gods of beer and spirits ; 
 Venus in the peerages which were created in favour 
 of the illegitimate children of kings ; Plutus in the 
 peers who owe their titles to the possession of 
 wealth ; Ceres in those who have been ennobled 
 on account of their territorial interests ; and 
 Minerva in the law lords — the gods of wisdom. 
 The gods and goddesses, with their connections, 
 amounted to thirty thousand, and the British peers 
 and their connections are about the same number. 
 The mythological system was obviously devised 
 by the ambitious amongst the ancients in order to 
 control the weak and ignorant. When the system 
 collapsed it was adopted in a modified form in 
 England — and that survives ! 
 
 179
 
 "Class" <^ -o ^> "O "o 
 
 THE origin of " society," and what it was in 
 this country until recently, may easily be 
 described, and when understood will enable more 
 important matters to be seen clearly. 
 
 When the community was in its infancy there 
 was little security for life or property. Strong men 
 interfered, created some sort of law and order, 
 and established themselves. Having acquired 
 power and the privileges that accompany it, they 
 naturally endeavoured to retain them. They 
 appropriated land, increased in prosperity, and 
 became accepted as members of a superior class, 
 and their descendants, intermarrying, eventually 
 formed a combination which was little else than an 
 enormous family. 
 
 This combination controlled the whole machi- 
 nery of the State, including the Sovereign, and 
 
 1 80
 
 divided amongst its members all the important 
 appointments and those that enabled them to 
 prosper at the expense of the community. This 
 family party made the laws, and made them gene- 
 rally to promote and protect their own interests ; 
 mercilessly suppressed or destroyed those who 
 objected ; did their utmost to render it difficult 
 for "unconnected" members of the community 
 to raise themselves from their unfavourable con- 
 dition ; and came to look upon "society" and the 
 country as their property. 
 
 That is the origin of " society " — using the word 
 in its broad sense — and describes its condition 
 until recently. 
 
 The hurricane of the French Revolution, the 
 developments of modern times, and American 
 influence have together enormously altered that 
 condition. The application of steam, and me- 
 chanical ingenuity, have raised thousands of 
 "lower" and "middle-class" Englishmen to posi- 
 tions which confer upon them exceptional power, 
 and they have already removed many of the laws 
 which were favourable to " society " and injurious 
 to themselves. This reform of the laws, and 
 several other circumstances, have seriously dimin- 
 
 181
 
 ished the prosperity of many members of the 
 family party. Thousands of properties have been 
 sold to " middle-class " men, and the latter now 
 enjoy the political and social influence which 
 ownership of land confers generally in this country. 
 At Court, in the Commons, in the country, in the 
 towns, in the clubs, in the City, and in every 
 direction it is the successful members of the 
 " lower " and " middle-class " that are establishing 
 themselves, and the combination formerly called 
 " society " is being dispersed rapidly. Thousands 
 of its members are struggling for existence in the 
 Colonies, South Africa, the United States, the 
 City, in unimportant employment, and even in 
 trade, most of whom would have been provided 
 for at the expense of the community twenty-five 
 years ago. Almost every breakwater has been 
 demolished by the inrush, and "society" is all but 
 swept away. 
 
 The new " society," however, is being formed. 
 That is more or less common property, and it is 
 for this reason the word is so continually used now 
 in England. 
 
 In the United States there has never been a 
 combination of families which has captured the 
 
 182
 
 government of the country, established itself as a 
 superior class which the rest of the community 
 was created to serve and maintain, and reserved 
 for its members almost the whole acreage of 
 opportunity. Therefore, there has arisen in the 
 United States a " society " mainly composed of 
 the very rich who are prepared to spend money 
 extravagantly, and commit many absurdities to 
 amuse themselves or become prominent. Circum- 
 stances are rapidly developing in England to alter 
 our " society " to this pattern. The community 
 will obtain in the immediate future the control of 
 the machinery of the State ; the important ap- 
 pointments will be conferred on those who possess 
 the best qualities for the duties they have to fulfil ; 
 and " society " will be an association — not a com- 
 bination — formed of continually-changing units 
 prepared to behave more or less recklessly and 
 ridiculously to attract attention. 
 
 183
 
 Embarrassing Conversation ^> *^> 
 
 MEANWHILE, circumstances are rapidly 
 altering the whole of the aristocratic 
 system; there are "middle-class" Ministers, and 
 a "middle-class" Parliament, a "middle-class" 
 peerage is being formed, and a " middle-class " 
 " society " is almost established. 
 
 At a meeting of the systems, the "middle-class" 
 in "society" somewhat interfere with conversa- 
 tion : — 
 
 Scene: A West-end dinner party. 
 
 He: " They make furniture so badly now . . ." 
 She {interrupting) : Hush ! Your opposite neigh- 
 bour is Lady , the wife of the upholsterer." 
 
 184
 
 He : " What swindling there is in the Art 
 trade . . ." 
 
 She: "Speak low; her neighbour, Sir , has 
 
 a curiosity shop." 
 
 He : " Many women I know have invested their 
 money in business . . ." 
 
 She : " Do be careful, the hostess has a milli- 
 nery establishment." 
 
 He : " One must do something of the sort now 
 that so much has been lost through speculating . . ." 
 
 She : " You really are incorrigible ; half the 
 men here are on the Stock Exchange." 
 
 He [desperate) ; " Well, let us talk of the change 
 in morals . . ." 
 
 She : " Take care ; several of the women have 
 been divorced." 
 
 He {attempting a joke): "Is prison a safe sub- 
 ject?" 
 
 She {indignantly) : " My son is only just out of 
 gaol. . . ." 
 
 185
 
 Hereditary Respect -o <^ ^> ^> 
 
 LTNEARNED influence is a ridiculous sur- 
 vival ; the matter is dealt with in the 
 following letter : — 
 
 " My father was the younger son of the younger 
 son of a peer, and was consequently poor, as is 
 generally the case with those in that condition. 
 When I left Oxford, I had the expensive tastes 
 and the opportunities to indulge some of them, 
 which many have who are well connected and have 
 been educated at a public school and a university. 
 For a few years I associated with my social equals, 
 was then declared a bankrupt, my name was re- 
 moved from the lists of the clubs I belonged to, 
 and my connections, friends, enemies, and their ac- 
 quaintance thenceforth described me as a ' fool,' 
 an 'idler,' a 'spendthrift,' and even a 'scamp.' 
 
 186
 
 One after the other, heirs to the title died, and, by 
 the sudden death of the late peer a year ago, I 
 became Lord , though I inherited little money. 
 
 "No perceptible change in my character or in- 
 telligence has occurred in the five years' interval 
 between the declaration of my bankruptcy and 
 this moment, but since my succession to the title 
 they have made me President of several political 
 organisations, I have been appointed to the boards 
 of various important public companies, I have 
 frequently occupied the chair at scientific, literary, 
 artistic and charitable gatherings, and my utter- 
 ances on those occasions are listened to with 
 deferential attention. My connections, friends — 
 I have few enemies now — and all combine to 
 praise me ; they insist I have the qualities neces- 
 sary to make my mark. 
 
 "It is bewildering! There is absolutely no change 
 
 in me except that instead of being Mr. I am 
 
 Lord . My father, his father, the late lord, 
 
 and the three immediate predecessors of the latter, 
 were all especially commonplace men, so it cannot 
 be pretended I have inherited the respect due to 
 their superior qualities or distinguished careers. 
 It can only be that there are peculiar properties 
 
 187
 
 attached to a title itself which raise the bearer of 
 it enormously in the estimation of Englishmen 
 and Englishwomen. 
 
 " This is merely a species of social superstition, 
 not a hair's breadth above the level of that which 
 makes some savages worship the crocodile, others 
 the monkey, and others still a block of wood. In 
 this respect we are still in a savage condition. 
 
 "A school and college friend of mine, Mr. , 
 
 is the son of the celebrated man of science whose 
 discoveries have made the name famous for all 
 time. The father of my friend refused a peerage 
 and, though the latter is generally accounted to be 
 almost as able as was the former, being untitled he 
 is not accorded even a remote semblance of the 
 attention paid to me. Therefore, it cannot be 
 pretended that the English are influenced in the 
 matter by their faith in the hereditary principle. 
 
 " I intend to make the most of the situation, as 
 some of my fellow-peers have done before now. 
 I shall, judiciously, sell my name to company pro- 
 moters whose object is to use it to defraud the 
 confiding public. I shall assist in the House of 
 Lords to reject every Bill which may threaten to 
 injuriously affect the interests of my class, however 
 
 188
 
 much it might improve the condition of the rest of 
 the community, and I shall presently cross the 
 Atlantic and sell a share in my title and its advan- 
 tages to the most satisfactory heiress I may find 
 there. As to giving good example, I shall not 
 attempt to do that ; the English are prepared to 
 permit to those who have a title almost any breach 
 of the Ten Commandments. I shall take every 
 possible advantage of this ridiculous social super- 
 stition." 
 
 189
 
 Interest " Table 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^> 
 
 ^> 
 
 <^y 
 
 A BILITY ensures 
 ■*- *- Industry 
 Honesty 
 Interest 
 A pretty wife 
 Insistence 
 Money 
 More money 
 Very much money 
 Advertisement 
 
 ... Obscurity. 
 
 Neglect. 
 
 ... Contempt. 
 
 Appointments. 
 
 ... Promotion. 
 
 Distinctions. 
 
 Respect. 
 
 Popularity and Power. 
 
 ... A Peerage. 
 
 ... Celebrity. 
 
 190
 
 Heredity -o ^> ^c> ^^> ^- 
 
 IT is a curious case of inconsistency that 
 when we discuss the subject of heredity we 
 always look upon the defects as being inherited 
 by the poor, and the good qualities by the rich. 
 
 " Margaret was an idiot, drunkard, and 
 
 pauper, and her progeny has cursed the country 
 ever since. There have been traced back to her 
 two hundred of her descendants who have been 
 idiots, lunatics, drunkards, or paupers, most of 
 whom have had to be supported by the com- 
 munity in gaol, asylum, hospital, or workhouse." 
 
 The founder of a " great " family may have had 
 certain good qualities which enabled him to ac- 
 quire fortune and attain prominence. Amongst 
 his successors there have been many who were 
 drunkards, or dissipated, and they have been 
 followed by many others who were idiots, lunatics, 
 
 191
 
 drunkards, or spendthrifts — but we always imagine 
 the good qualities of the founder predominate, and 
 we respect his descendants in consequence. The 
 harm that has been done to the community in the 
 past by idiots, drunkards, the dissolute, and the 
 unscrupulous, who had wealth or power, must 
 obviously far exceed that which could be traced 
 back to idiot, lunatic, or drunken paupers — the 
 former had more opportunities of doing serious 
 mischief. 
 
 The original founder of a " great " family was 
 generally a cut-throat, robber, intriguer, or a para- 
 site. He " succeeded," and we worship that 
 success centuries afterwards, notwithstanding that 
 many of his descendants have disgraced them- 
 selves and have, directly or indirectly, cost the 
 country millions of money. Occasionally one of 
 his successors, having access to the best oppor- 
 tunities, has distinguished himself; but that was 
 more the result of his having the opportunity than 
 of his having inherited exceptional qualities. 
 
 'A* 'A" 'If 
 
 In some prominent families there has been one 
 
 thei 
 
 1 92 
 
 creat man, in others there have been two, in
 
 a few, more ; but, generally, the blood of those 
 distinguished members has been abundantly cor- 
 rupted by that of many successors who have 
 been debauchees, drunkards, diseased, dolts, or 
 demented. Are the good qualities of the few 
 alone hereditary, or are the bad of the many also 
 inherited? If the latter is the case, it is easy to 
 account for the general failure of West-end men 
 when forced to compete without favour with the 
 despised " public." Moreover, the long continu- 
 ance of depraved, dishonest, and disease-causing 
 courses through the generations may be supposed 
 to have created criminally inclined men and 
 women, who only fail to commit offences which 
 are disgraceful because their wealth and circum- 
 stances protect them from those particular tempta- 
 tions. There is a criminal class at both ends of 
 the community ; the one formed by pleasure, the 
 other by poverty — when the members of the 
 former have to submit to the privations endured 
 by the latter, the upper criminal class will be as 
 dangerous as is the lower. 
 
 If it is reasonable to have hereditary legislators, 
 
 193
 
 why should it be unreasonable to have hereditary 
 bishops, generals, admirals, or judges ? Is it more 
 easy to govern an empire than to administer a 
 diocese or command an army or a fleet ? 
 
 There are natural and there are artificial dis- 
 tinctions. One man is stronger than another, or 
 is more clever ; one woman is more beautiful than 
 another, or is more agreeable. These are natural 
 distinctions. Birth, title, and inherited position 
 arc altogether artificial distinctions. 
 
 294
 
 The New "Stage Villains" ^> ^> 
 
 THE "upper" criminal class has replaced 
 the " lower " in our novels and on our 
 stage; it is a feature of the time. The English 
 writers to-day take their villains from the West 
 End, not from the East ; the murderer, forger, 
 thief, the scoundrel, who is exposed at the close 
 of the story, is generally now a member of 
 "society." It is no longer the "actress" or 
 commonplace adventuress who causes the com- 
 plications that distress the hero and heroine, 
 but a Duchess ! There is material for thought in 
 the change. 
 
 195
 
 Little " Great " Lives -^> ^> *^> 
 
 WHO will write the much-needed series 
 of The Little "Great" Lives? It is 
 permissible for the purpose to misquote the lines 
 of Longfellow as follows : — 
 
 " Lies of great men all remind us 
 We can make our lies sublime, 
 And, departing, leave behind us 
 Falsehoods on the sands of time." 
 
 Those who are accounted "great "are described 
 as having succeeded because they had talent, 
 industry, perseverance, will, and character. Most 
 of them, however, attained success because they 
 were unscrupulous, opportunity was accorded 
 them, or they had the assistance of a woman 
 with influence. That does not apply generally 
 to those to whom posterity has granted fame, 
 and many of them were ignored in their own 
 lifetime. There are thousands in every age 
 of little " great " lives ; men and women who 
 
 196
 
 struggle heroically from start to finish in 
 obscurity, and against almost insurmountable 
 difficulties, full of hope, courage, and cheerful- 
 ness. Those are the pattern-lives, quite irre- 
 spective of whether they attain " success." 
 
 
 "The Secretof Success" is a favourite subject 
 with writers, orators, and the self-made, and 
 all take it for granted " success " means power, 
 prominence, or prosperity. Happiness is the 
 true success. Which is the better, to have the 
 exterior of the house agreeable — so that those 
 outside think how pleasant it must be inside — 
 and the interior comfortless, or to have the 
 interior comfortable and neglect the exterior ? 
 Many who have attained power, prominence, or 
 prosperity, have to be contented with being 
 thought happy ! 
 
 • • • • * 
 
 " Life is like a puzzle which is composed 
 of many pieces ; some are square, some three- 
 cornered, some round, and a few fancifully 
 shaped. The more commonplace the pattern 
 
 197
 
 the more easy is it to fit it into the puzzle ; 
 it is the very fancifully-shaped piece which 
 is the most difficult to place in the design. 
 The world is for the commonplace ; they fit 
 easily almost anywhere in the puzzle of life. 
 The clever require exceptional circumstances 
 for the display of their talents. If the great 
 Napoleon had lived when there was no war 
 and no revolution, could he have become 
 the conqueror he was? Had Darwin and 
 Huxley lived some hundred of years ago, they 
 would probably have been burnt at the stake 
 as heretics. Had Addison lived to-day, there 
 is not an editor who would have published his 
 celebrated essays. Many a Napoleon who, had 
 he fitted into the puzzle of his own times, 
 would have switched history on to an altogether 
 different track, has died unknown. Many a 
 Darwin and many a Huxley have suffered igno- 
 minious deaths in unenlightened ages ! It is 
 unquestionably the fact that the clever require 
 exceptional circumstances for the display of 
 their talents ; and that, therefore, the common- 
 place have altogether the advantage of them in 
 the struggle of life." 
 
 198
 
 Letters to the Dead *o «cv ^> -o 
 
 HALENTS have their times ; times their 
 -*- talents. 
 
 Had Addison and Shakespeare written in these 
 days, possibly neither would have succeeded. 
 
 The following " Letters to the Dead " are 
 obviously genuine : — 
 
 " Dear Mr. Addison, — I return the manuscript 
 of ' Further Papers for the Spectator,' which 
 you were so good as to send to me, and regret 
 that the subjects jou have chosen, and the style, 
 are altogether unsuited to the requirements of 
 the readers of my newspaper. 
 
 " Pray forgive me if I add some observations 
 which may assist you in your future endeavours. 
 You evidently attach much importance to style, 
 tone, and thought ; it is a grave error. The 
 literary columns of a modern newspaper are 
 only an excuse for publishing the very interesting, 
 often beautifully illustrated, and always profitable, 
 advertisements, and it is the main aim of every 
 editor to diminish the former and increase the 
 latter. Modern journalism will be at its best 
 when all are advertisers and there are no writers. 
 
 199
 
 "The chief character you have created, Sir 
 Roger de Coverley, is grotesquely unreal. A 
 well-born Englishman possessing a title and 
 wealth, of independent character, courteous, up- 
 right, simple-minded, and generous, would cer- 
 tainly be in the Bankruptcy Court in six months, 
 and in the Criminal Court, probably, in twelve. 
 This is the age of big thieves. Remodel the 
 character — it has merits. Sir Roger should be 
 a stockbroker, a charity-knight, a West-end 
 wolf — a 'gentleman' of the generation. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, yours faithfully, 
 
 "- - Editor. 
 
 "To Joseph Addison, Esq." 
 
 "Dear Mr. William Shakespeare, — I have 
 
 been on a visit to the Duchess of , and 
 
 only reached home last night. Amongst a 
 packet of letters I found the one you have 
 written to ask me to return your manuscript of 
 'The Merchant of Venice.' The play has a 
 plot ; that is its only recommendation. The 
 style of the dialogue is very involved ; I pro- 
 pose to have that revised by the call-boy, who 
 
 coo
 
 has had a first-class school-board education, 
 which is more than may be said of most members 
 of the audience in the boxes and stalls. ' The 
 Merchant of Venice ' is an unattractive title ; it 
 is not even alliterative. The title shall be 
 altered to 'The Society Shylock.' 
 
 "The character of Shylock must be remodelled. 
 No English audience of the day would imagine 
 it to be despicable to love money better even 
 than life. Make the character just sufficiently 
 respectable to excite contempt. Portia must be 
 a Divorce Court celebrity ; the heroines on the 
 English stage to-day must either have little cha- 
 racter or little clothes. As I write hurriedly, 
 having several Dukes and Duchesses waiting in 
 the hall to obtain engagements, I merely give 
 the outlines of the changes you are to make, 
 but pray do not let your experience of Eliza- 
 bethan audiences influence you in reconstructing 
 the play for use at the moment. The audiences 
 of those days were not civilised; ours are. 
 "Faithfully yours, 
 
 " , Actor-Manager. 
 
 "To Mr. William Shakespeare." 
 
 20I
 
 " Contemporary Criticism ' ^> <2y 
 
 INHERITED position and title arc extra- 
 vagantly respected, but every inch ability 
 strives to cover before it is accepted as 
 orthodox, is fiercely disputed. Unfortunately 
 many of our greatest men and women have not 
 been "established" until after death. It appears 
 not to have occurred to any writer to recall the 
 abusive names which have been bestowed on our 
 literary celebrities. 
 
 Shakespeare. — " Poor poet ape." 
 Dryden. — "Ignoramus." "Poet squab." 
 Johnson. — " The blaspheming doctor." 
 Marlowe. — "That atheist Tamburlan." 
 Massinger. — " A sot." 
 
 Milton.—" Black-mouthed Zoilus." " The 
 trader in faction." 
 202
 
 Moore. — "That piperly poet of Green Erin." 
 Pope.— "The ape." "The empty flask." 
 
 " The portentous cub." 
 Steele. — " A twopenny author." 
 Southey.— " Mouthy." 
 Wordsworth.— " The blockhead." "The 
 
 poetical parasite." 
 Tennyson. — " Schoolmiss Alfred." 
 
 The names which were conferred on our Kings 
 and Queens will provide the necessary contrast :— 
 
 Henry V.— "The English Alexander." 
 
 Elizabeth.— "The Virgin Queen." "The 
 World's Wonder." 
 
 James I.— "The English Solomon." 
 
 William III.— "Old Glorious." 
 
 George II.— " The Great Patron of Man. 
 kind." 
 
 George III. — "The Solomon of Great 
 Britain." 
 
 George IV. — "The greatest Trince in Chris- 
 tendom." "The Prince of Princes." 
 
 203
 
 The Two Minds ^ o o ^> 
 
 THERE are the warehousing and the manufac- 
 turing minds ; it is a grave error in our 
 system of education that it cultivates the former 
 in preference to the latter. When there were 
 comparatively few books the warehousing mind was 
 invaluable; the "learned" collected, stored, and 
 conveyed knowledge which might otherwise have 
 been lost. In the altered conditions of our t ; me 
 it is the manufacturing faculty that should be 
 cultivated ; we should develop the creative power 
 of the brain. Instead of doing this, we still, as 
 our distant predecessors did, shower honours and 
 rewards upon those who warehouse knowledge, 
 notwithstanding that much of the "learning" they 
 possess is now contained in books which can be 
 consulted at pleasure. 
 
 Of course, it is easy to weigh and measure 
 
 204
 
 warehoused knowledge at the examinations, and 
 as most of the best appointments can only be 
 obtained by success in the examination-room, the 
 creative power of the brain is neglected. 
 
 The decay of originality in England at the 
 moment is obvious ; the undue cultivation of the 
 warehousing properties of the brain is no doubt 
 greatly responsible for the condition. 
 
 205
 
 Head or Heart First ? -c^ ^> ^> 
 
 ' I A HE new education in England has a promi- 
 J- nent peculiarity. Our predecessors culti- 
 vated the heart of their children, often neglecting 
 the body and the brain ; we cultivate the body 
 and the brain of ours, often neglecting the heart. 
 The High-class School for Roughs system turns 
 out boys or girls with well-developed bodies and 
 well-stocked brains, but the absence of gentleness 
 and sensibility is conspicuous. 
 
 206
 
 "No" ^ ^> ^> ^V ^> ^> 
 
 ACCORDING to Taine, the brain of the aver- 
 age English man or woman is like a Hand- 
 book ; for it contains a vast quantity of fact, but 
 little thought. If this criticism was approximately 
 true when Taine wrote about England a quarter of 
 a century ago, how much nearer to the truth must 
 it be now that we pay little attention to polish, 
 and devote our entire energies to the pursuit of 
 the practical ! Facts are a drug in even the 
 most illiterate drawing-room ; imagination, origi- 
 nality, the power to so piece facts together as to 
 produce a new thought, are gifts which are every 
 day becoming more rare. 
 
 This opens the question of the New Education. 
 The education of the past was Education Back- 
 wards ; the education of the future is Education 
 Forwards. Formerly they taught languages which 
 are dead, and philosophies that have been dis- 
 carded ; they filled heads with the gossip of the 
 gods, with myths which were the flimsiest of fairy- 
 
 207
 
 tales ! The object was to attain polish. To-day 
 we aim at the practical. Our children have to be 
 taught athletics — for are we not the Apostles of 
 Athleticism ? — foreign languages, book-keeping, 
 shorthand, and typewriting. Ours is the Civilisa- 
 tion of Commerce. 
 
 In the new scheme of Education there is a 
 subject that must be especially attended to. Two- 
 thirds of the misfortunes which occur to us in life 
 arise from inability to say " No," a disinclination 
 which comes either from good nature or from 
 weakness of character. In every school and at 
 every college there should be a professor in the art 
 of saying " No " who should daily propound a 
 number of questions and teach his pupils to 
 answer " No " to each of them with much decision 
 and some brutality. The difference between one 
 man and another consists principally in this power 
 of being able to say "No." Hundreds of thou- 
 sands of lives are annually ruined which would 
 have been prosperous had " No " been substituted 
 for " Yes." " No " is the only word in the 
 language which costs nothing ; yet it is the one 
 word which the vast majority of men and women 
 are the most reluctant to use. 
 
 208
 
 A Professor of Knowledge of the "World 
 
 WHY is it generation after generation has 
 to learn by experience the elementary 
 circumstances which those that came before them 
 have learnt ? Wisdom of the world is all but the 
 most important branch of knowledge, and the 
 elementary principles of it have been known 
 almost since the beginning. There should be 
 in every school a professor of worldly wisdom ; a 
 man trained in the best society, possessed of much 
 experience, who should teach boys and girls the 
 unchangeable principles of this important branch 
 of knowledge. It does seem strange generation 
 after generation of men and women should have 
 to learn the same things by bitter experience when 
 it could be arranged that in the matter one 
 generation should begin where the other left off. 
 The boys of to-day commence to learn science 
 where yesterday the old men of science ceased ; 
 why should it not be precisely the same as regards 
 wisdom of the world ? 
 p 209
 
 The Art of Self-Advertisement -o 
 
 '^HE art of self-advertisement should be 
 -*- taught in every school and college in the 
 country, for it is an essential element of success 
 in these days. There should be a graduated 
 course of instruction suitable to the age and 
 intelligence of the pupils, whilst the higher 
 developments might be studied at the universi- 
 ties and under experts. The Divorce Court 
 course— and the Divorce Court form of self- 
 advertisement is especially profitable for actors 
 and authors — should be omitted at schools and 
 colleges for obvious reasons. It is to be hoped 
 the suggestion will be adopted, and that a Chair 
 of Self-advertisement will be established both at 
 Oxford and at Cambridge. 
 
 210
 
 The Wisdom of Youth <r> o <^y 
 
 EVERY generation has the common-sense 
 of its period ; our ancestors had the 
 common-sense of their ages ; we have that of 
 ours. It is one of the fallacies which have 
 been handed down from time immemorial that 
 the old are wiser than the young, and the 
 sooner this is switched into space the better. 
 The wisdom of youth is amazing. The young 
 have intuitive qualities which diminish and dis- 
 appear as years increase ; they have courage, 
 enterprise, energy, and self-confidence to a 
 degree that few old people possess. The old 
 have experience, but experience seldom alters 
 the character. Because the old no longer so 
 keenly desire the things they were eager for in 
 youth they account themselves wise ; but that 
 is not wisdom, it is physical decay. They look 
 
 2 I I
 
 wiser than the young — that is generally un- 
 questionable- — and it is often on the appearance 
 of wisdom they trade. 
 
 The young are full of love, of faith, of truth, 
 of confidence in others, are less selfish and 
 more generous than the old are generally. If 
 they have the faults of their time of life, why 
 are those not described tenderly as "the in- 
 firmities of youth," as the failings of the old are 
 "the infirmities of age"? 
 
 Goethe has approached the thought more 
 timidly: "People," he wrote, "always fancy we 
 must become old to become w r ise ; but in 
 truth, as years advance, it is hard to keep our- 
 selves as wise as we were." 
 
 2 12
 
 The Decay of Individuality 
 
 -o <2y 
 
 HHE "decay" of individuality is marked. 
 -*- The enormous increase of prosperity has 
 brought English men and women by the hun- 
 dreds of thousands within the area of the con- 
 ventionalities, in which individuality is regarded 
 as almost criminal. All within that must dress, 
 act, talk, feel, and think almost alike ; the rule 
 of conformity here is absolute. Even in the 
 recent past it was comparatively common to 
 hear this or that one described as a " character," 
 but how seldom is the expression used now ! 
 Were Hogarth, Rowlandson, Gillray, or Cruik- 
 shank to revisit us, and resume the work they 
 excelled in, the conditions of the time would 
 not be suitable to their respective styles of 
 caricaturing ; there would be too few pronounced 
 peculiarities to exaggerate. 
 
 213
 
 The Debt to Nonconformity ^> ^> 
 
 ^yONCONFORMITY is a driving-force of 
 ^ civilisation, as history shows throughout. 
 Why, then, is it invariably despised? From 
 the beginning it is often those who would not 
 conform who have, by patience and perseverance, 
 brought about the removal of abuse, and have 
 overcome this superstition or that prejudice. 
 Every educated or intelligent person knows this; 
 yet most of them oppose the nonconformist — 
 using the phrase in a general sense — as earnestly, 
 if not as savagely, as did our ancestors. In a 
 world which even yet is by no means perfectly 
 governed, those who wish to abolish abuses, to 
 advance progress, and to increase the prosperity 
 of the community should be admired. It is 
 terrible to look back upon the crimes which 
 have been committed throughout the ages in 
 trying to hinder the nonconformists from making 
 life more rational. 
 
 214
 
 To be accounted respectable you must con- 
 form to the prejudices and practices of the 
 particular time and place in which you live. 
 Not to conform to these is to be discreditable. 
 There is no universal and unchangeable code 
 of respectability. Most of the reforms we enjoy 
 to-day have been brought about by those who 
 opposed the " established " abuses of their own 
 times, and, therefore, we owe the liberty and 
 just institutions which we now have to those 
 who, when they lived, were discredited ! 
 
 Prejudice is the power which enables the 
 narrow-minded, those of moderate intelligence 
 and of weak character, to govern the world. 
 Every generation has its prejudices ; every pre- 
 judice its martyrs ; and every prejudice removed 
 advances humanity in the direction of progress. 
 History principally records the rise and fall of 
 prejudice after prejudice, and the struggles, 
 sufferings, and ultimate success of those who 
 contended against them. 
 
 215
 
 The Quick and the Slow ^> ^> ^o> 
 
 IT is a grave misfortune to possess a quick 
 intelligence whilst the minds of the ma- 
 jority of your fellow-creatures work with only 
 moderate rapidity. Many troubles would occur 
 to a man who could see fifty miles when those 
 around him could only see five. He would 
 continually be saying " I see a ship," or a 
 balloon, or a mountain, and his neighbours 
 would as continually be declaring there was no 
 ship, balloon, or mountain to see. In the same 
 way those who possess an intelligence that is 
 quick, are continually assured they are mistaken 
 by those unable to perceive the things which 
 are clear to the former. 
 
 216
 
 Backward Parents 
 
 ^i> ^y *o ^> 
 
 BACKWARD parents are exclusively an evil 
 of the present time, and especially in 
 England. Formerly, when development was slow, 
 parents were in advance of their children until 
 the latter had reached middle-life, and the slightly 
 altered conditions produced by the new genera- 
 tion gave the children an advantage. In these 
 days, the parents have mostly been educated 
 and trained on the old system, influenced by 
 the principles and prejudices which belonged to 
 circumstances of the past, and formed in con- 
 ditions that survived in their youth. Almost in 
 an instant the greater part of the pattern of 
 combined education, training, restraints, circum- 
 stances, experience, and thought has changed 
 in England, and the children in this country at 
 the moment have been moulded on much 
 
 217
 
 advanced methods, and have very different sur- 
 roundings to deal with from those their parents 
 conceived would be permanent. In the cir- 
 cumstances, the ordinary English parents of 
 to-day are comparatively helpless; they mumble 
 old-world warnings and directions, and the chil- 
 dren not only laugh at the venerable counsels, 
 but clearly prove most of them to be obsolete. 
 Then the parents fall back upon proverbs : " The 
 rolling stone gathers no moss." " Nonsense," 
 reply the children. " That may have been true 
 when there were few facilities for movement ; it 
 is the rolling stone now that gets the most 
 moss, if it reaches the moss-covered ground." 
 "Take care of the pence and the pounds will 
 take care of themselves," continue the discomfited 
 parents. " Ridiculous ! " answer the children. 
 " In these time-saving days we cannot watch 
 the pence ; let them go, and make more pounds." 
 " Wisdom is the inheritance of the old." " But 
 your wisdom is that of an abolished system," 
 retort the children. "You are old in years, but 
 striplings in the new world, new knowledge, 
 and new conditions. You drove horses ; we 
 drive motor-cars, and know the intricacies of 
 
 218
 
 the machinery, which is incomprehensible to 
 you." 
 
 A result of this quick transition is that the 
 children of the time in England are disposed 
 to look upon their parents, masters, and the old 
 generally as survivals of a period of imperfect 
 development, men and women almost on a level 
 with those of the Middle Ages. It is the child 
 now that ordinarily teaches his or her parents, 
 and initiates the latter in the mysteries of 
 modern life. The schoolmaster may command 
 obedience, but he does not command the re- 
 spect he did ; the old may be serious, but they 
 are not taken very seriously. 
 
 219
 
 The Round Idol -^> ^> -o ^ 
 
 DECIDEDLY Englishmen suffer from ball on 
 the brain. The main feature of the race is 
 the irrepressible impulse to do something either 
 with, at, or to a ball. We kick it, we hit it, we 
 thump it, we throw it, we drive it, we bump it, we 
 roll it, slap it, and catch it; we run for it, ride for 
 it, and scramble over it. Upon the earth, in 
 the air, and in the waters even, there can be no 
 possible rest for a ball so long as the ordinary 
 Englishman is within measurable distance of it. 
 Give one of our fellow-countrymen a bit of board 
 and a ball and he will at once possess the 
 essential elements to ensure his happiness. 
 
 Other races may cultivate the delicacies of the 
 table ; they may devote themselves to the refine- 
 ments of society, art, music, and literature ; they 
 may pursue leisure and pleasure — but give an 
 
 220
 
 Englishman a bit of board and a ball, and he will 
 need little else to secure supreme happiness in 
 life. He will forthwith organise a game, dub it 
 " sport," and despise the rest of the human race 
 for not attaching the same importance to it he 
 does himself. And yet this physical activity is not 
 a generic quality, but a development caused by 
 living in a damp climate. 
 
 The damp of England compels us to take 
 violent exercise in order to live. Hence it is we 
 sacrifice considerations of refinement, luxury, and 
 art in favour of this all-important purpose. Our 
 national heroes are not the giants of intelligence, 
 imagination, and wit, but the men who can run 
 the fastest, jump the highest, hit the hardest, and 
 those who own the most successful racehorses. 
 Proficiency in exercise is that which meets with 
 our highest approval. 
 
 221
 
 The Man-of-the-World o ^ ^ 
 
 THE expression "Man-of-the-World" is one of 
 the most misused in the language. A man 
 or woman now travels, sees many cities and sights, 
 reads much objectionable literature, and meets 
 many questionable characters, and then dubs him- 
 self or herself a man or woman of the world. 
 The expression was formerly intended to describe 
 a man of the best world, one whose privilege it 
 had been to enjoy the higher experience — who had 
 been behind the scenes at Court, in "society," in 
 politics, had known the men and women who 
 were directing events by their influence, intelli- 
 gence, or energy. An expert thief is not a 
 "man-of-the-world," a woman who has abandoned 
 restraint and self-respect is not a " woman-of-the- 
 world," but those who have been trained in the 
 best experiences are the one or the other accord- 
 ing to their sex. 
 
 222
 
 "Decay." — I ^ o -o -o> <^ 
 
 THE decay of innocence is a startling develop- 
 ment of the time. The " innocent " man, 
 who was not abreast with the wickedness of the 
 world, appears to have ceased to exist. Almost all 
 are well instructed now in this direction, and talk un- 
 concernedly of the villainies which the unprincipled 
 commit, whether as politicians, financiers, or 
 ordinary criminals. They even laugh at the 
 exploits of these, and call the men clever ! The 
 youngest girl listens admiringly to the accounts, 
 and she too appears to be well informed. "Take 
 care of what you say before grandmama," recently 
 said a girl of eighteen ; " she does not understand 
 things." 
 
 223
 
 " Decay." — II <^ <iv <^> -o ^> 
 
 THE decay of restraint is another feature of 
 the time in England. Public opinion has in 
 these days here as its main voice the Press, and if 
 that is silent the mumbling of individuals may be 
 greatly ignored. 
 
 The decay is especially apparent amongst 
 women. The English girl of to-day is subject to 
 comparatively few restraints at home, and, there- 
 fore, considers those imposed upon her to be 
 peculiarly tiresome. It is generally to escape 
 them she marries, and it then horrifies her to 
 find there are other restraints in her new con- 
 dition. She refuses to submit to these, and the 
 husband is, of course, unable to compel her to do 
 otherwise. The results of this are, generally, the 
 same : wrangling, a wrecked home, separation, or 
 divorce. 
 
 224
 
 The Advance of Lying ^> -v> -^> 
 
 ~^HE advance of lying is one of the most pro- 
 J- minent features of to-day in England ; " Lie 
 and let lie " seems to be the formula now generally 
 adopted in this country. Our statesmen, officials, 
 politicians, journalists, financiers, and tradesmen 
 lie unscrupulously ; the witness in the box lies 
 confidently; and, in private life, many people lie 
 unconcernedly. 
 
 225
 
 Spare Time <b* o ^> <^ ^> 
 
 THE frightful decrease in "spare time "is a 
 matter which should not escape attention. 
 The increase of work, interests and amusements 
 has, in combination, already so diminished the 
 margin of "spare time" that there is scarcely any 
 left for thinking or for aimless reading. It seems 
 probable that the less time there is for thought, 
 the less production of original brain-work there 
 will be — a most serious prospect. This generation 
 is continually accused of not being so original in 
 conversation and literature as were others that 
 preceded it, and perhaps the "decay" in these 
 directions is caused by the relatively small amount 
 of "spare time " at our disposal. 
 
 226
 
 The Minute-Hand Master 
 
 <i* *o -^^ 
 
 HHERE is the New Slavery; we are the slaves 
 ^ of the clock ! Our distant ancestors were 
 satisfied with the hour-hand, our immediate pre- 
 decessors were contented with the occasional 
 clock on churches and public buildings : we must 
 have a watch in the pocket and a clock in every 
 room, and they have to be obeyed. The train 
 starts punctually, the office must be reached at a 
 regular hour, appointments have to be kept exactly 
 — the minute-hand disturbs us in bed, at meals, in 
 conversation, at play and at work. It would be 
 useless to form an Anti-Minute Hand League ; the 
 system has hardened so that unpunctuality cannot 
 be attempted without danger. 
 
 # # # 
 
 Eat life leisurely ; do not bolt it. In modern 
 
 227
 
 conditions the hour may be said to have but thirty 
 minutes. The decay of thinking is a development 
 of this circumstance, and is obvious in our con- 
 troversies, conversation and literature. " This is 
 the Ase of Action" there are those who tell us; 
 but action that is founded on insufficient thought 
 is generally defective. There is now what might be 
 called cinematograph literature — books in which 
 incident follows incident in quick succession ; the 
 works which contain thought are rapidly diminish- 
 ing in number. The circumstance is not to be 
 observed in France or Germany. 
 
 228
 
 The New Type -o *o ^> "O 
 
 THERE is the New Type. The "distinguished- 
 looking " men and women of slight build, 
 with small heads, hands, and feet, and with 
 delicate features, are seldom met with now. They 
 are being rapidly replaced by thick-set men and 
 women, with massive heads, huge hands and feet, 
 coarse-featured, and having a broad mouth with 
 thick lips. Is it that Nature is providing for the 
 increased wear-and-tear of life, or that circum- 
 stances are removing those modelled after the old 
 pattern ? 
 
 229
 
 The New Insularity *o -o -c> *o 
 
 THERE is the New Insularity. In the past 
 John Bull could do no wrong; at the 
 moment he can do no right. He discovers 
 "decay" — moral, mental, physical, and social — in 
 every direction and conceives ruin and invasion 
 are imminent ! " The English are a dull race," 
 "We dread the new," "We are hypocrites" — 
 there is no other people that is dissatisfied with its 
 character, condition and institutions, and distrust- 
 ful of its future as we are. It is but a form of 
 insularity ; John Bull has lost the courage of his — 
 ignorance ! 
 
 ■30
 
 The New Travelling -q> ^2> <o 
 
 THERE is the New Travelling. Our pre- 
 decessors visited the Continent, and re- 
 turned frequently with their taste influenced, the 
 mind developed, and their manners improved. 
 Most of those who travel now are less affected in 
 these directions by the experience ; they have 
 seen cities, scenery, cathedrals, ceremonies, and 
 galleries — none of these now much modify the 
 mind or manners of many. It is the hotels, 
 restaurants, and routes that have made the 
 most impression on them. They will tell you 
 which are the best hotels to stay at, the most 
 comfortable and cheapest routes to take, and 
 what clothing to wear : it is courier-knowledge 
 they generally acquire. " Yes, we saw St. 
 Peter's — magnificent ; it is so large and well- 
 proportioned ; we stayed at the Hotel; 
 
 the charges were very moderate, the rooms clean 
 and comfortable, the food excellent, and there 
 were several people we knew in the house at 
 the time." No one says now " He is a much- 
 travelled man," to convey the individual has 
 acquired taste and polish by the process. 
 
 231
 
 The " Revolutions of the Wheel " ^ 
 
 AN historian will one day write a serious 
 work, entitled " The Revolutions of the 
 Wheel," and a singularly interesting treatise this 
 should be. No political movement has so revo- 
 lutionised the conditions of the world as has the 
 railway train ; and the cycle is destined to pro- 
 duce another revolution of the kind, which may 
 even be more far-reaching. The railway has 
 levelled up the "middle-class" to the "upper- 
 class," and the cycle will in time level the 
 labouring-class to the position now enjoyed by 
 the " middle-class." Half a century ago — to 
 take the matter from one point of view alone — 
 only very rich men could travel. The introduc- 
 tion of the railway has opened the world to 
 hundreds of thousands of travellers who are 
 possessed of only moderate means. For their 
 
 232
 
 use have sprung up in every direction magnifi- 
 cent hotels, many of them as elaborately de- 
 signed as any palace. The cycle opens the 
 world to the million, and for the benefit of the 
 million in a short time there will be established 
 equally magnificent establishments where enter- 
 tainment may be had at popular prices. 
 
 M3
 
 The Triumph of the Weak 
 
 "Nix "V> 
 
 r^HE observant do not appear to have per- 
 -*- ceived that the triumph of the weak is 
 the main feature of the age, especially in this 
 country. The injured and the infirm are attended 
 to as they never have been before ; the children 
 arc trained with the utmost consideration; woman 
 has attained a position which terrifies old- 
 fashioned men ; the long - despised Noncon- 
 formist commands general respect ; the once 
 much - ridiculed " middle -class " has become 
 master ; the Israelites are prosperous and pro- 
 minent in many directions ; and the outcast 
 actors and actresses are centres of influence ! 
 
 234
 
 The Millionaires and the Millions 
 
 ^> 
 
 THE Use and Abuse of Millions" would 
 be an excellent subject for an article. 
 The forthcoming " billionaire " will have a 
 unique opportunity for improving the condition 
 of man. He will be able to provide those large 
 sums for public purposes which the State cannot. 
 He could erect and endow hospitals, present 
 museums and public parks, establish free 
 libraries — he could, in fact, reform, enlighten, 
 educate the community over the heads of the 
 Legislature. The aristocratic millionaire of the 
 past generally strove to improve his own condi- 
 tion, to strengthen the social position of his 
 family, and, to do that, spent his money in 
 accumulating land and treasures, and in bricks 
 and mortar. The commercial millionaire is fre- 
 quently a philanthropist, and aims at assisting 
 and raising those who belong to the class from 
 which he rose. Three or four " billionaires " 
 could do more in a few years to modernise 
 England than Parliament would in a century. 
 
 235
 
 The Unselfishness of the Selfish ^> 
 
 " n^HE unselfishness of the selfish" is a sub- 
 JL ject which has never yet, to the know- 
 ledge of the writer, been considered. There are 
 hundreds of elderly men in the City, and in trade, 
 whose heart is supposed to be as hard as granite, 
 but they work and worry to leave a vast fortune 
 to heirs whom they appear to have little affection 
 for, and for whom they would not pay a sovereign 
 when alive. How many men there are who have 
 inherited fine estates, and never live on them, 
 doing their utmost to free the property from 
 debt, so that children to whom they are not 
 particularly attached shall succeed to them un- 
 encumbered. There are those who plant avenues 
 and design parks which it is obvious they will 
 never see grow into even a pleasing prospect. 
 There are men who intrigue and toil until they 
 
 236
 
 are octogenarians to obtain titles and distinc- 
 tions which can be of little benefit to them at 
 their age, but will, directly or indirectly, confer 
 distinction upon connections they almost ignore. 
 The number of those who devote much of their 
 life, consciously or unconsciously, to benefiting 
 others must be enormous. 
 
 237
 
 A Humane Suggestion -v> -^y <^ 
 
 COULD not a clause be added to the Geneva 
 Convention absolutely prohibiting the use 
 of animals in war? If man, for one reason or 
 another, is minded to maim and kill his fellow- 
 man, he must do that so long as no way is 
 discovered to prevent him. r I here is no excuse, 
 however, for his exposing harmless horses and 
 mules to the horrors of war. Besides, such a 
 clause would be a step in the direction of making 
 war almost impossible, and towards that end the 
 race must be continually moving until it is 
 attained. 
 
 238
 
 The New World and the Old ^ ^> 
 
 AMERICA is the blackboard on which is 
 written that which Europe must learn. In 
 the United States a man raises himself from 
 poverty and obscurity to prosperity and pro- 
 minence. His fellow-countrymen say of him : 
 "This is a great man; he has strength of 
 character, intelligence, enterprise, resource, and 
 energy ; we must have him at the front." 
 
 In England a man rises as has the American. 
 Our fellow-countrymen and women say of him : 
 " Is it not disgraceful such people should possess 
 fortunes and importance ; the country is hurrying 
 to ruin ! " 
 
 " He has had a New-World education," is a 
 phrase which will shortly be in common use 
 
 239
 
 in this country. A man who has visited the 
 United States, and has adopted some of the 
 developments of the New World, seems to have 
 an enormous advantage over his competitors in 
 the Old. That is to he seen in business in the 
 City, in commerce, in trade, in journalism, on 
 the stage, and in every direction. New World 
 attitudes of mind may be most distasteful to us 
 who have the old, but the former must be 
 generally adopted, as they are of such obvious 
 advantage to those who have them. The United 
 States is the blackboard of the modern world ; 
 most of that which appears there is for the 
 instruction of all. 
 
 The feature of the twentieth century will pro- 
 bably be the struggle for supremacy between the 
 New World and the Old. The United States 
 are growing in population, in wealth and in 
 ambition. Whilst we are spending money the 
 Americans are making money. Will the centre 
 of finance shift from London to New York ; 
 will America become the champion of liberty ; 
 will the New World be modern whilst the Old 
 
 240
 
 is fettered to feudal survivals; and, most im- 
 portant for us, will the United States cover the 
 seas with ships and rule the waves ? Progress 
 is stronger than policy ; the race is for the most 
 progressive and most prosperous, not for the 
 most pugnacious. 
 
 241
 
 The Mechanical Peril -^> ^> ^> 
 
 THE Mechanical Peril is a difficulty which 
 has not escaped the attention of Parlia- 
 ment. The Special Commission which was 
 appointed to inquire into the matter has issued 
 an interim report, and the following evidence of 
 one of the witnesses examined is of especial 
 interest : — 
 
 Q. "Can you write?" — A. "No; I use a 
 typewriter." 
 
 Q. "Can you sing?" — A. "No; I use a 
 phonograph." 
 
 Q. " Can you play any musical instrument ? " — 
 A. " No ; I use the pianola." 
 
 Q. " Can you sew ? " — A. " No ; I use a sewing- 
 machine." 
 
 Q. " Can you draw ? " — A. " No ; I use a 
 Kodak." 
 
 Q. "Can you walk?"— A. "No; I use a 
 bicycle, a motor-car, a tram-car, or a train." 
 
 Q. "Can you hear?"— A. "No; I use an 
 ear-trumpet." 
 
 Q. "Can you see?" — A. "No; I use glasses." 
 
 242
 
 Q. "Can you digest?" — A. "No; I use 
 digestives " 
 
 Q. " Can you sleep ? " — A. " No ; I use nar- 
 cotics." 
 
 Q. " Can you form an independent political, 
 literary, artistic, or ordinary opinion ? " — A. 
 " No ; I belong to an ' organised ' political party, 
 and take my opinions in this direction from 
 the wire-pullers. As regards literature and art, 
 I receive my impressions of those matters from 
 the reviews in the newspapers ; and in ordinary 
 circumstances I follow general public opinion." 
 
 Q. "Can you breathe ? "—A. "No; I use 
 artificial respiration." 
 
 From these answers it would appear the man 
 of the immediate future will be entirely de- 
 pendent upon mechanical contrivances, organisa- 
 tions, and medical resources ; that he will only 
 have emerged from one form of slavery, after 
 generations of struggling, to enter into another 
 which is more absolute ! Take away from the 
 man of 2000 his typewriter, phonograph, pianola, 
 Kodak, bicycle, motor-car, train, sewing-machine, 
 spectacles, digestives, narcotics, and newspapers, 
 and he will be a helpless creature ! 
 
 243
 
 Now ~^ *o *q> ^i* *c^ *c> 
 
 EVERYTHING is common now but common 
 sense. 
 The following elementary up-to-date riddles, 
 then, may be appropriate : — 
 
 When is a child not a child ? — Now. 
 
 When is a woman not a woman ? — Now. 
 
 When is a lady not a lady? — Now. 
 
 When is " society " not " society " ? — Now. 
 
 When is a Sovereign not a Sovereign ? — Now. 
 
 When is a farmer not a farmer ? — Now. 
 
 When is a servant not a servant? — Now. 
 
 When is art not art? — Now. 
 
 When is Shakespeare not Shakespeare? — Now. 
 
 When is everything nothing ? — Now. 
 
 UNW1N BROTHERS. LIMITED, PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON.
 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTEO iN U.S.A.
 
 tftDUKE" ;** 
 
 »st of the 
 Loungers.** 
 
 •s Edward Wynu. 
 aiaduke ''—died c 
 I home at Earl's Cot 
 i ill with bronchitis J 
 nexpected. He was 
 death passes " The L 
 ■ his own term — I 
 affected flaneur left 
 iy years under the 
 fee " he contributed 
 ing and witty " Lei 
 
 unique survival of t 
 ictorian exquisites. 

 
 (. s*r& /J/ r 
 
 1KMADUKE. 
 
 (EW OWNER 
 4NITY FAIR.* 
 
 10 SCANDALS." 
 
 t 
 
 7. Jerningham, who fc 
 .s was " Marmaduke " of 
 Vanity Fair, and lie will * 
 chat paper on the first c 
 , Vanity Fair was establish' 
 
 olitical and social review, 
 rningham has decided views ol 
 jciety paper ought and ought not i 
 A society paper," he said yester- J 
 3 not a paper written about people in 
 ; it is a paper written by people in 
 . By society I mean people who arp 
 ,' the history of the day." Produ< 
 >py of the Owl of 1864, he rernarkei 
 was the first of the society pape- 
 d an excel! • - t staff, and we ? 
 ' ie just likf for Vanity Fair." 
 
 the floor bis study, his han 
 
 jckets, Mr ^rningham talked 
 
 sometime ^raising, sometii. 
 ;, and a 1 revealing that 
 
 owledge ial life shown in 
 
 c " Mar ks" His id 
 
 rapi as phrases » 
 
 ill Se 'i 
 
 ™™ [REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 596 725