Part 9

_Lady B._--"Yes, true. I was forgetting; do lend me a needleful of your pink silk.... Oh! that is soon told: it was neither an event nor an adventure. As I told you, I was seated in my box.... Well, during one of the _entr'actes_, two gentlemen came and took up their position in front of me, and never took their eyes off my _corsage_ the whole time. I was indignant."

_La Comtesse._--"You were wrong. When we indulge our coquetry to satisfy our vanity, we ought to be willing to put up with the consequences."

_Lady B._--"To satisfy our vanity! How do you mean?"

_La Comtesse_ (_smiling_).--"Come now, I appeal to you: is it simply to be a little cooler that we have our bodies cut low?"

_Lady B._--"No, of course not; we like to be _décolletées_, because it is the fashion; because, if we did not, we should appear ridiculously prudish and outlandish. Alas! we are the slaves of fashion!"

_La Comtesse._--"My dear, if your form resembled the poor little Baronne de S.'s, do you believe that any fashion in the world would make you wear a low-necked dress?... You would soon reconcile to yourself the thought of appearing prudish, ridiculous, and outlandish."

_Lady B._--"Then you excuse those two impertinent creatures?"

_La Comtesse._--"I am almost inclined to do so. I do not see why a man should not take a pleasure in looking at that which it seems to give us pleasure to show."

_Lady B._--"Well, I can only tell you that such a thing would never have happened to me in England."

_La Comtesse._--"I can quite believe that. I have seen your countrymen look at Vesuvius as unmoved as if they had been looking at the chimneys of St. Etienne or Birmingham.... Besides, my dear, had you not a fan with you to protect you?"

_Lady B._--"I have taken note of what you said just now, you know; that if women are coquettish, it is to satisfy their vanity. Perhaps you will succeed in explaining to me why there are women who carry their coquetry as far as _la galanterie_?"

_La Comtesse_ (_seriously_).--"A coquette satisfies her own vanity; a woman who misconducts herself satisfies the vanity of a man. She is a fool."

_Lady B._--"Ah! that is better (_a few moments' silence_). By the bye, have you seen Lady G. lately? Poor little woman! is she not an inconsolable widow?..."

_La Comtesse._--"I saw her last Tuesday. I found her better ... she was beginning to be a little more reasonable."

_Lady B._--"I saw her the day after Lord G.'s death. She was in a pitiable state."

_La Comtesse._--"So did I; but that was nothing ... it was on the day itself that you should have seen her.... She was beside herself ... she had completely lost her reason.... You should have heard her reciting the litany of her husband's good qualities. What qualities, what virtues people discover in their dead relatives, to be sure: did it never strike you so?... They say Lord G. has left her all his fortune, at least all that he could leave her.... It is no light matter being left a widow in England: ... your husbands are very shrewd, do you know! English wives have a great interest in taking every care of their husbands."

_Lady B._--"Such is not Lady G.'s case, however. Her husband leaves her his fortune on condition she remains a widow. If she re-marries, she loses all her rights."

_La Comtesse._--"Well, well, that is tyranny, or I never understood the word. Not content with having been a despot all his life, he must continue after his death to make his wife feel an authority that he can only exercise by proxy. There! really, it is only in England that you find husbands of that stamp."

_Lady B._--"I don't agree with you. I think a husband shows his wisdom in protecting his wife against the fortune-hunters that might be attracted by her money."

_La Comtesse._--"But a woman is not a baby that does not know one thing from another ... and if your husbands did not treat you as minors...."

_Lady B._--"Besides, after all, you must admit that if a man loves his wife, it is not pleasant for him to think that there is perhaps an individual who is only waiting for him to die, in order to marry his widow and enjoy comfortably a fortune that has perhaps cost him great trouble to amass."

_La Comtesse._--"I do not admit any such injunctions. A woman is capable of devotion and fidelity. But as for imposing upon her a sacrifice for which she is to be paid, I call it insulting. I should never feel anything but contempt for the memory of a husband who had treated me in such a way.... I should marry again and have done with him and his money."

_Lady B._--"I can forgive jealousy in those who love deeply; at least I excuse it."

_La Comtesse._--"And so can I, but what you were speaking of a moment ago is not jealousy, it is vanity, the vanity of a tyrant.... _A propos_ of vanity and wills, have you heard about the will of M. de R.... No? Well then, this is the kind of vanity I admit of: M. de R. kept up his reputation of a humorist and a good husband to his last moment. What did he do the night before his death but send for his notary, and, before his friends and relatives who were present, dictate to him the following will: 'I have loved my wife dearly, and I know that my wife has loved me dearly, and will regret me. I leave her all I have, to do as she pleases with, without having to consult anyone. I authorise her to marry again; I even advise her to do so; I do not fear competition.' Now, I can assure you that though Madame de R. is only thirty-five, and very pretty, she will never marry again. That is a French husband, my dear."

_Lady B._--"I am very willing to believe all you tell me about French husbands, and love in married life, but why do not your novels show us something of that domestic happiness?"

_La Comtesse._--"Ah! I stop you. You are going to speak to me of novels that treat of impossible society, of _blasé_ men and light women: but we have others, my dear Lady B. If we have 'Nana,' we have also 'Le Roman d'un Brave Homme,' 'L'Abbé Constantin,' 'Le Maître de Forges;' ... I could name them by the hundred. By the bye, have you ever read 'Monsieur, Madame, et Bébé'?"

_Lady B._--"Have I read it! Ten times at least, and I shall read it many times more yet."

_La Comtesse._--"I congratulate you."

_Lady B._--"It was Lord B. who made me read it."

_La Comtesse._--"Lord B. is a sensible man. That delightful book ought to be in every household ... like the Bible: it is a regular treatise on happiness in married life. How many times have the Count and myself passed delightful hours together reading a chapter or two of those charming descriptions!--My husband is a very good reader.--And how many chapters have we put in practice! How many of those lovely little scenes have we played!"

_Lady B._--"How fond of you your husband must be!"

_La Comtesse._--"It is twelve years ago that we were married: twelve years of cloudless happiness.... The Count grows handsomer every year. He is rather stern-looking, you know, but I like that in a man. When he frowns, he is superb ... and then, it is so easy to chase his frowns away: he is so good, so generous, ... so attentive. Would you believe it? he makes me a regular declaration every time he sees me in a new dress."

_Lady B._ (_laughing_).--"Really! He must have a pretty milliner's bill to pay at the end of the year! Ha! ha! ha! There now, positively, I have broken my needle. Lend me another, dear, will you?"

_La Comtesse_ (_giving her a needle_).--"There is one."

_Lady B._--"Thank you! Oh! what a lovely _marquise_ you have on. Those diamonds are magnificent; I never saw you wear it before."

_La Comtesse._--"No, it is one of the Count's last follies. I must tell you that yesterday I had a little shopping to do at the Louvre. The Count proposed to accompany me. I accepted with joy, and we set off. But just as we arrived at the door of the shops his heart failed him, he hesitated. 'After all, my dear,' he said to me, 'I will not go in, I will come and fetch you. Do you think you will be long getting what you want?' 'I don't know, two hours perhaps; what are you going to do all that while?' 'Don't trouble about me, I shall be here at five o'clock exactly ... do not keep me waiting.' A _rendez-vous_ with my husband is something sacred; I have never yet kept him waiting. Men always hate to be kept waiting, military men especially, it makes them horribly ill-tempered. So at five o'clock I came out and found my gallant husband at the door. 'Where have you been?' I asked him. 'Oh, I have been strolling about dear.' He looked a little bit mysterious; I immediately guessed that he had been up to mischief. Between you and me, men are not very clever you know in hiding their secrets. The Count betrays his like a child. His eyes publish them immediately: you can read there as in an open book. He did not attempt to defend himself long. Monsieur had been strolling in the galleries of the Palais Royal and had bought me the ring that you see: the diamonds are worth at least a hundred pounds. Now I ask you, my dear Lady B., if after that one dare trust one's husband out of sight an instant?... It did not prevent his having a good kiss when he reached home though, I can assure you. Heaven knows how near I was to giving it to him in the _Place du Palais Royal_."

_Lady B._--"How delightful it is to hear you talk like that; it does one good (_looking at her embroidery_). This cap is horrible ... just do look at that blue and green: ... do they not clash?"

_La Comtesse._--"Take my advice, and put it aside. Embroider a cigar-case for Lord B. I did a beauty for the Count: his initials and coronet in dark blue on a pearl grey ground...."

_Lady B._--"That is a good idea.--(_Drawing nearer the Countess._)--Has the Count ever taken you to a _cabinet particulier_?"

_La Comtesse._--"Many times."

_Lady B._--"Lord B. says a man cannot take his wife to a _cabinet particulier_."

_La Comtesse._--"My dear, you are not forced to exhibit your marriage certificate to the waiter. The Count considers that a lady can go anywhere with her husband, and, for my part, I don't see why all the nice places should be reserved for certain characters, and the honest women have to content themselves with the Bouillons-Duval. Those are my ideas, you know."

_Lady B._--"They are mine, too, to a certain extent, but I fear that...."

_La Comtesse._--"I fear, _ma belle_, that your husband respects you a little too much. I don't dislike the Count's making me ... blush ... sometimes."

_Lady B._--"Oh! Lord B. would never do that.... It is I that have made him blush several times."

_La Comtesse._--"Yes? You are charming. Tell me all about it!"

_Lady B._--"That would be very hard."

_La Comtesse._--"Do send me your husband's photograph. I should so like to have in my album the portrait of an English lord who blushes when his wife shocks him."

_Lady B._--"By the bye, you have not told me what a _cabinet particulier_ is like."

_La Comtesse._--"Oh! they are nothing very wonderful: little rooms coquettishly furnished ... all the pleasure is in the novelty, the strangeness of the thing; ... it is droll to disguise oneself as ... the mistress of one's own husband."

_Lady B._--"Oh! do tell me more about it."

_La Comtesse._--"You want me to shock you, then?"

_Lady B._--"All women enjoy being shocked ... a little, you know ... not too much."

_La Comtesse._--"Well, then, dear--it was nearly ten years ago--I was at a ball with my husband. About one o'clock in the morning, I had just been waltzing with him, we saw there was going to be no supper ... and we were getting as hungry as wolves.

"'I say, darling,' said the Count to me, 'I am terribly hungry; don't you think it is time to go home?'

"'But, my dear, we shall find nothing to eat at home.'

"'No?--never mind, we will find a way out of that difficulty pretty soon; we are _en carnaval_; we will go and sup at the _Maison Dorée_.'

"No sooner said than done; we left the ball-room, jumped into the brougham, and in a few minutes we were ... in a _cabinet particulier_. The Count had a little sardonic, triumphant expression, that made me feel a little uneasy, but what was to be done? I tried to look as dignified as possible, when the waiter came in to receive his orders. With his wife, a man does not commit great extravagances: the Count ordered oysters, a lobster salad, some cold chicken, ices, and a bottle of iced champagne. I had never seen my husband so gay, so bright, so witty.... Oh! how lovely it is to be adored by one's husband!... At dessert the Count became somewhat enterprising ... I mean very enterprising! Fortunately the waiter came in...."

_Lady B._--"Without knocking?"

_La Comtesse._--"Without knocking; they are accustomed to it.... They see such things, you know."

_Lady B._--"It must be high fun for them."

_La Comtesse._--"Not at all ... habit, you see ... they would much rather be in bed, I can assure you. Well, as I was telling you, the waiter came in for my husband's orders. 'Waiter,' said he, 'you can go now. Bring some coffee ... when I ring.' The waiter bowed and retired. You should have seen with what ease the Count gave him this order.... Oh! you know, it was easy to see he had had ... a little experience ... it was not the first time he had supped in a _cabinet particulier_."

_Lady B._ (_seriously_).--"How can you suppose such things?"

_La Comtesse._--"How can I? (_kissing her._) Dear child, how refreshing you are! However, what is perfectly certain is that, although rather light-headed with the two glasses of champagne that the Count had poured out for me, I saw quite clearly that he was locking the door."

_Lady B._--"Oh! I should have screamed."

_La Comtesse._--"I had a great mind to; but what was the good? No law protects a woman from her husband; you know that. We have no Woman's Protection Society in France yet; _you_ have, you see.... I had risen indeed, but the Count had seized me in his arms.... By the way, don't you think there is something curiously fascinating in the idea of a woman in the strong arms of the man she loves and who adores her ... as they stand, she helpless, almost _perdue_ ... _perdue_ in the arms of your husband, it is not dangerous ... _on se retrouve_, you know ... he, holding her up, and gazing into her face with eyes that seem to devour her...."

_Lady B._--"Don't talk about it."

_La Comtesse._--"Then...."

_Lady B._--"Call the waiter, and let us have the coffee, my dear Comtesse: it is high time."

_La Comtesse._--"I will do something better than that: I will give you a cup of tea ... _à l'anglaise_." (_She rings._)

XVII.

The Teetotal Mania--Second Epistle to John Bull--The darling Sin of Mrs. John Bull, according to a venerable Archdeacon and a few charitable Ladies--A free-born Briton, Member of the Yellow Ribbon Army.

The Blue Ribbon Army numbers at the present time more than 600,000 soldiers, it is said. A little patience, and the water drinkers will soon be as numerous as the drunkards. What spectacles of eccentric contrasts! Picture to yourself children, urchins of three or four years old, decorated with the blue ribbon; men and women persuaded into pledging themselves in writing that they will never touch wine, beer, or any other alcoholic drink. What folly! and, at the same time, what a confession of weakness! Is it not, in fact, asking them to sign that, since they do not know how to stop when they have quenched their thirst, they will swear to touch no drink whatever? And you, John, my friend, you are satisfied with this progress; you rub your hands with pleasure and admiration; you are going to close your taverns, and forbid your grocers to sell wines, beer, and spirits: are you simple enough to imagine that a people is to be made virtuous by Act of Parliament? Your parsons and old maids, who know that about a hundred million pounds sterling is annually spent upon alcohol, move heaven and earth to divert this golden stream into the coffers of the Church, to take it out of the devil's clutches and give it _to God_; and you take all they say for Gospel, without perceiving that you are simply working for a few shrewd speculators, who are delighted to have an opportunity of trading upon your pretensions to virtue, in order to cover themselves with both profit and honour.

Do you remember, for instance, that a little while ago, the Gospel Temperance Society of Edinburgh was hard up, because it had to pay a hundred pounds sterling to a gentleman who, during a whole month, had talked himself hoarse in trying to prove to the inhabitants of Auld Reekie that, if they would ensure their welfare in this world ... and the next, they must drink nothing but water, and that the said Society had also to pay the hotel bill of this good apostle, a bill that amounted to £52 13s.? By Jove! More than fifty-two pounds for a month's board and lodging! Water is expensive in Edinburgh!

Do you not think that your working classes would look much healthier, if instead of weak tea and bread more or less buttered, you made them breakfast off good soup, or even drink a glass of sound home-brewed ale? It is not total abstinence, but moderation, that should be preached: moderation,[7] a word that seems to be fast dying out of your vocabulary. It is not wine, but vice, that makes the drunkard, says the Chinese proverb; it is not the wine or the beer then, but the vice, that it should be your effort to suppress.

[7] _Temperance_ means _moderation_ (_temperare_), and not _total abstinence_.

_In medio veritas et virtus_; but the motto of your island unhappily seems to be _In extremis dementia_. Your arms carry too far, and you kill nothing.

All those insensate doctrines make a few fanatics and hypocrites, but comparatively few serious proselytes, and, moreover, they tend to produce the most violent reactions. Besides, do not forget that your tea which you swallow in such quantities, your lemonade, and all the tribe of artificial and teetotal drinks, have made you bilious, old fellow; yes, bilious, dyspeptic, hypochondriac, morose, and crabbed; and you ought to know that no Divine law forbids us to enjoy the good things that Providence has strewn around us for our use, though the law of Nature does teach us to use them with discretion.

You laugh at us because, when we are at table with our family, we do not scruple to cover our chest with our _serviette_; you are much amused at our commercial travellers, who, at a _table d'hôte_, bravely tie it around their necks, and set to work as if they meant to do serious execution, and you exclaim, "What gluttons! How they eat!"

But you are a little bit jealous, dear boy, that is all. Yes, at table, we set aside our cares, we are happy, we talk and laugh with our wives and children, and make the pleasure last as long as we can. And if we have found the secret of happiness and gaiety, we inspire more envy than pity, believe me; and if you had not ruined your digestion with your tea and other unhealthy slops, if you were to forget a little of your insular dignity while you are at table, and make a little progress in your cookery, you would probably find that, after all, gaiety is an excellent thing, even if it should come from a good digestion.

I know very well you will reply that your only aim in this world is to secure your salvation in the next. I know this takes up a great deal of your time; but as it does not prevent your taking a great interest in your banking account, and a thousand other little mundane matters, I conclude that, if you, like ourselves, hope to reach paradise one day, like ourselves also, you are not in a hurry to set out. Really, _do_ leave us alone with your tea, cocoa, and other salvation potions. Drink water, if it suits your taste; for England is a free country. But for goodness' sake, let other people drink what they like.

Anyhow, take care: do not overshoot your mark. Drunkenness no longer exists in a deep-rooted, hideous form, except among the lower classes of your great towns, and this is a much better state of things than existed when Members of Parliament were called to order for putting their feet on the table in front of the Speaker. And it should be added that, thanks to education, even your lower classes are becoming more sober. As for asking for an Act of Parliament, to prevent peaceful citizens from going to buy a bottle of cognac of their grocer, it is utter folly.

Finally, John, remember that one of your bishops, not long ago, refused to sign a similar petition to the House of Commons, saying that he had rather belong to a nation of drunkards than a nation of slaves.

It was in the coquettish town of Torquay, in the month of March, 1884.

I was present at an immense _tea-and-bread-and-butter-meeting_, held under the auspices of the Temperance Society, and presided over by a venerable archdeacon. As I looked around me at the long Lenten-looking faces, silent and damned, to use the energetic expression of the poet Shelley, swallowing their tea in little sips, and nibbling their bread and butter with their eyes lifted heavenward, I thought to myself: Yes, I have said and will maintain it: nothing is more beautiful, nothing is more edifying, than to contemplate John as he imbibes this angelical beverage.

I had duly partaken of a slice of bread and butter, and swallowed my two cups of tea, as stoically as any of the members of this edifying congregation, when an old maid, sitting next me, who, since the proceedings began had not opened her mouth, except to yawn at regular intervals like a machine, ventured to break the solemn silence:

"Oh! sir," she said, addressing me, "what a grand meeting this is! Ours is a glorious cause!"

----"I do not doubt it, madam," I replied. "When this interesting tea party is over, there is to be an address, I believe?"

----"Yes; Archdeacon ... will say a few words."

----"What is the object of this meeting? The closing of public-houses on Sundays, I presume?"

----"Oh, dear no! we want to do something better than that. The public-house is not the greatest evil we have to fight against. We want to send a petition to Parliament to get the law repealed that allows grocers and pastrycooks to sell wine, beer, and spirits."

----"Really!" I exclaimed.

----"Yes, the public-house is only frequented by the lower classes; their sphere of action is, therefore, limited; but drunkenness among the women of the middle classes is greatly on the increase. Under pretence of buying a cake at the confectioner's, they enter the shop with the intention of drinking wine; under the pretext of sending their servants to buy groceries, they send for brandy, and get tipsy at home. So we have said to ourselves: The confectioner and the grocer are the enemies we have to fight."

----"I am afraid you calumniate your countrywomen," I suggested.

----"It is the sad truth; you will hear the Archdeacon presently: he has terrible tales to tell. Yes, sir, the grocers do more harm to our cause than the publicans. It was Mr. Gladstone that granted the grocers their licences, because it is well known that most grocers are Liberals."

----"I see," I said to my neighbour. "And as the publicans are Conservatives, you would like them to enjoy the monopoly of the sale of alcoholic poisons. It is a little electoral manoeuvre. Excuse me if I do not quite appreciate your philanthropical sentiments. But I see that the company is rising to go to the meeting; I will do myself the pleasure of going to hear what the Archdeacon has to say."

The proceedings began with prayer and the singing of the hymn, "Rescue the perishing."

When the hymn was finished, the venerable Archdeacon who presided rose, and began to deliver his address, from which I give you the following passages:--