MR. DU M.AERIER ON "SOCIETY."
WE imagine that it would tax the ingenuity of most social philosophers to give a brief and accurate definition of what Society is,—Society, that is to say, in the common use of the word, when it is spoken of as a kind of corporate body to which a man may or may not belong,—the society whose doings are faithfully chronicled in certain weekly newspapers, and not unkindly satirised in others. If pressed for a definition ourselves, we should be inclined to define it as a kind of club of an indefinite number of members ; some of them honorary members, recognised as such by right of their birth and position, and others paying members, who acquire the privilege of membership by dint of their wits or their money,—a club whose doors are jealously guarded by its least worthy associates, and yet whose only privilege it is to have no privacy whatever. In order to enjoy that privilege, to become notorious, and to have their private affairs discussed as publicly as possible, a great number of people are for ever struggling for membership, strenuously pushing them- selves into the charmed circle, or striving to keep others out, —the sole sign and reward of their success being the envy of the unsuccessful. That is the society of which people speak when they say that a certain Duchess or millionaire is a "leader of society," or that Mrs. So-and-So is not "in society," or that some other lady is not "received by society." Such as it is, it is supposed to exercise a great influence over this world of ours, and undoubtedly does do so, though the influence is not always a very happy one. But then, that portion of our world which is so influenced, is by no means the wisest. It has its admirers,—witness the intense interest which those outside evince in the chronicle of its most trivial doings and amuse- ments. It has also its critics, who do not seem to tire of satirising it by pen and pencil. Among the latter, one of the most able and genial is Mr. George du Meunier, whose drawings have done so much to enliven the pages of Punch for many years past, and a volume of whose contributions to that periodical now lies before us, entitled "Society Pictures."
Naturally, the side of society which Mr. du Meunier, among others, has taken upon himself to illustrate, is not its best; but considered altogether, the picture which he holds up for our contemplation is a not unfaithful copy of the original. A great many of the follies and the vagaries which he ridi- cules were but the passing follies of a day, and have now almost as completely disappeared as the fashions of dress in which his characters are clothed. It is almost as hard to believe at this hour in the " wsthete " or the "china-maniac," as it is to picture to ourselves a world where the women wore such preposterous garments ; and yet it was only ten or twelve years ago that the a3sthetic young man existed as beautifully and as undoubtedly as did tight skirts and over-balanced chignons. Maudle, Poetlethwaite, and Mrs. Cimabne-Brown, have disappeared from amongst us, leaving hardly a trace be. hind them ; other follies are longer-lived, and their present. ments in Mr. do Manner's pages are as true of society to-day as they were ten or, indeed, a hundred years ago, and as they probably will be a hundred years hence. The comedy of the earthen pipkins who would swim down the stream in company with the brass pots, or that of the frog who burst himself in the effort to rival the ox in size, is as old as society itself,— and society itself is no older than its own folly. From the days of .2Esop down to those of Thackeray, there have been no lack of satirists to tell the time-honoured story and point the same moral, each after his own fashion, some genially enough, others with an ill-concealed bitterness of insistance. Mr. du Maurier is a philosopher and moralist of the genial class, but even he is sometimes betrayed into the expression of scornful indignation. It is not the sinfulness of the folly which provokes the moralist to wrath—for the folly is harmless enough—but rather the futility of tilting at it, and the utter impossibility of overturning it. Snobs and toadies are among the most harmless creatures in existence, and if they choose to exhibit themselves in a position of grovelling adoration before the idols of rank and wealth, they do no one an injury but themselves ; nor can the idols fairly be blamed for pro- fiting by that worship ; but still, one can understand how, through sheer weariness and impatience, the world sickens of the spectacle, and longs to throw down the idols and kick the worshippers. Seen through Mr. du Maurier's glasses, however, the spectacle is rather an entertaining than an irritating one ; and in this respect at least, his pencil-sketches of society are more pleasant to contemplate than the savage caricatures in which the pen of a greater satirist sometimes indulged. "Society Pictures" does not leave the bitter taste in the month which is almost inseparable from a perusal of "The Book of Snobs." Even Sir Gorgius and Lady Midas, and their hopeful son, are more provocative of laughter than of wrath ; while the manceuvres of that extremely clever and charming little woman, Mrs. Ponsonby de Tomkyns, excite much more admira- tion than disgust. Who does not know Mrs. Ponsonby de Tomkyns, and has not taken a pleasure in watching her upward career? Such women deserve to succeed in the object of their ambition, though one might wish that that object was somewhat more worthy of the talents that they display in its pursuit. With her ready wit, that is never at a loss for an answer, and her keen insight into the character of her neighbours, she is all that Becky Sharp ever was, but without the utter want of principle and innate de- pravity that rained the latter's career. It is true that Mr. Ponsonby de Tomkyns, like Rawdon Crawley, is only the husband of his wife ; but he is not likely to jeopardise his honour by taking the second place. Autres temps, autres mceurs, perhaps though, unfortunately, the scandals of society do not seem much, lees frequent to-day than they were some fifty years ago. If Mrs. Ponsonby de Tomkyns, Mr. Grigieby, and their kin represent the wit that leavens society, Sir Gorgins Midas and his fellow, millionaires represent the ludicrous side. We cannot but think that Mr. du Meunier would have better pointed his moral, if he had not indulged in so broad a caricature. The struggles of the noureauz riches to disguise their newly acquired wealth under some other claim upon public consideration, are quite ridiculous enough without being burlesqued. The stupid bully who tries to hammer and force his way into the front row by the sheer weight of his money-bags, no doubt exists, and has his being ; but neither his methods nor his manners are quite so coarse as those of Sir Gorgius Midas. A far more familiar figure in society is that of Sir Pompey Bedell—a kind of English M. Prudhomme—a pompous fool, whose profound belief in his own wisdom, his wealth, and the position which the latter has procured him, is only tempered by his anxiety to reach a higher station still, and to disdain all connection with the ranks below him. Sir Pompey is not overdrawn, but Mr. du Manner's Duchess is really too much. That extremely vulgar and arrogant woman is, we should hope, a libel upon the very worst of her sex and rank. We regret that we must not say the same of Mr. Todeson, the person who blacks the boots of the aris- tocracy, and receives their kicks in return with perfect thank- fulness and oomplacency,—he is only too lifelike.
The picture of society that is here given us is not an ill- natured one ; and really, when considered in detail, it is not one of which we need be very bitterly ashamed. The English nation has been accused of harbouring an almost slavish worship of rank and wealth ; and judging from the opinion that it seems to entertain of itself, that accusation cannot be alto- gether unfounded. Still, we may plead at least that wealth by itself is more worshipped by the Americans than by ourselves, that the German pride of birth is infinitely greater than our own, and that the Russians abase themselves much more slavishly before official rank than we do. Moreover, we seem to be so willing to acknowledge our failings in that respect, that we may reasonably hope that we are equally willing to be ashamed of them, and to remove the cause of reproach. As long as vulgar ends seem to be desirable, so long will there be vulgar people who strive to accomplish them by vulgar means. But if vulgarity and snobbishness are really the heaviest sins that we can lay to the charge of society, then society has not sinned so very deeply after all. Without hypocrisy, we can regard with some satisfaction the contrast which is afforded to that censor • of our morals, Punch, by the pages of its fellow-satirists abroad. At least we have not learnt to find food for merriment in graver sins. Turning, again, from the failing of snobbishness to the lighter and more ephemeral follies of the day, we can hardly note more than one or two that reflect very much discredit either upon our morals or upon our manners. For the most part, they would tend to prove that our "society " is too greedy of amuse- ment, too prone to attach an undue importance to itself and its doings, and too imaginative in the invention of ridiculous " shibboleths " for those who dwell within its pale. "Society," it would appear, makes love and marries, shakes hands and dances, talks and moves, after a fashion peculiar to itself, and rather prides itself upon that peculiarity. It is but a harm- less pride ; there are few faults more venial than that of simple silliness.
Previous page
