Chapter III

When I first spoke, long ago, of the confidential attitude of Thackeray, I said that now we would not endure it. But I was wrong, if I meant that more than the very small number who judge novels critically would be impatient of it. No sooner were those fearful words printed than I began to find, to my vast surprise, that the confidential attitude in Thackeray was what most pleased the greatest number of his readers. This gave me an ill opinion of their taste, but I could not deny the fact; and the obstreperous triumph of _Trilby_, which was one long confidence, has since contributed to render my defeat overwhelming. Du Maurier's use of the method, as he perfected it, was so charming that I am not sure but I began to be a little in love with it myself, though ordinarily superior to its blandishments. It was all very well to have Thackeray weep upon your neck over the fortunes of his characters, but if he had just been telling you they were puppets, it was not so gratifying; and as for poor Sterne, his sighs were so frankly insincere you could not believe anything he said. But Du Maurier came with another eye for life, with a faith of his own which you could share, and with a spirit which endeared him from the first. He had prodigious novelties in store: true-dreaming, hypnotism, and now (one does not know quite what yet) intelligence from the neighborly little planet Mars. He had the gift of persuading you that all his wonders were true, and his flattering familiarity of manner heightened the effect of his wonders, like that of the prestidigitator, who passes round in his audience, chatting pleasantly, while he pours twenty different liquors out of one magical bottle.

I would not count his beautiful talent at less than its rare worth, and if this figure belittles that, it does him wrong. Not before in our literature has anything more distinct, more individual, made itself felt. I have assumed to trace its descent, from this writer to that; but it was only partly so descended; in what made it surprising and captivating, it was heaven-descended. We shall be the lonelier and the poorer hereafter for the silence which is to be where George du Maurier might have been.

W. D. HOWELLS.

ENGLISH SOCIETY

FAIR HOSTESS (_passing the wine_).--"I hope you admire this decanter, Admiral?"

GALLANT ADMIRAL.--"Ah! it's not the vessel I am admiring...."

FAIR HOSTESS.--"I suppose it's the _port_?"

GALLANT ADMIRAL.--"Oh, no; it's the pilot."]

* * * * *

TOMMY (_home from an afternoon party_).--"Mamma, darling, I've got a great favor to ask of you.... _Please_ don't ask me _how I behaved_!"]

* * * * *

OLD LADY (_to fashionable beauty, who has recently married the General_).--"And so that white-haired old darling is your husband! What a good-looking couple you must once have been!"]

* * * * *

THE GENERAL.--"I've brought you a new book, Aunt Emily, by the new French Academician. I'm told it's very good; but I've not read it myself, so I'm not sure it's quite--a--quite correct, you know."

AUNT EMILY.--"My dear boy, I'm ninety-six, and I'll _risk_ it!"]

* * * * *

SIR BINKS (_who always piques himself on saying just the right thing_).--"A--what I like so much about the milkmaid, dontcherknow, is that your husband hasn't fallen into the usual mistake of painting a lady dressed up in milkmaid's clothes! She's so unmistakably a milkmaid and nothing else, dontcherknow!"

THE PAINTER'S WIFE.--"I'm _so_ glad you think so.... He painted her from _me_!"]

* * * * *

(SCENE: The Waiting-Room of a Fashionable Physician.)

FAIR PATIENT (_just ushered in_).--"What--_you_ here, Lizzie? Why, ain't you _well_?"

SECOND DITTO.--"Perfectly, thanks! But what's the matter with _you_, dear?"

FIRST DITTO.--"Oh, nothing whatever! I'm as right as possible, dearest...!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

ELDER SISTER.--"Oh! he proposed after supper, did he--after dancing with you all night--and you refused him? Quite right! My dear child, never believe in _any_ proposal until the young man calls at eleven in the morning and asks you to be his wife!"]

* * * * *

"Good-night, Miss Maud!"

"I'm _not_ Miss Maud."

"Miss _Ethel_, I mean. Won't you shake hands with me? How ungrateful of you! and just after I've been taking you for your lovely sister, too."]

* * * * *

"I see a tent. I wonder what's going on inside? Let's go and see...."

"What's the good of our going in there?"

"What's the good of our stopping out here?"]

* * * * *

TIRED DAUGHTERS.--"Don't you think we might _go_ now, mamma? It's three o'clock."

FESTIVE MAMMA.--"Oh, that's not so _very_ late, darlings.... Mayn't I have _one_ more dance?"]

* * * * *

(The Common Room at St. Morpheus, Oxbridge.)

FIRST TUTOR (_waking up, and languidly helping himself to his modest glass of claret_).--"Ah! I like a little sleep after dinner.... It makes one ready for one's wine!"

SECOND TUTOR.--"Well, _I_ like a little sleep _before_ dinner best!"

THE MASTER.--"Pooh! Talk to me of the after-breakfast sleep in term-time! That's what _I_ enjoy!!"]

* * * * *

HOSTESS.--"Won't you play us something, Mr. Spinks?"

MUSICAL AMATEUR (_who thinks a good deal of himself, in spite of his modesty_).--"Oh, don't ask me--you are all such first-rate performers here--and you play such good music, too."

HOSTESS.--"Well, but we like a little _variety_, you know."]

* * * * *

* * * * *

LIONEL.--"Oh, I _say_, Benjamin! how splendid your wife is looking! _She_ pays for dressing, if you _like_!"

BENJAMIN.--"_Does_ she, my boy? I only wish she _did_!"]

* * * * *

TEDDY.--"How old are you, Aunt Milly?"

AUNT MILLY (_who owns to 35_).--"Oh, Teddy, almost a hundred!"

TEDDY.--"Auntie, I can't believe you! I'd believe you if you'd said fifty!"]

* * * * *

"A southerly wind and a cloudy sky proclaim a hunting morning."]

* * * * *

SIR BEDIVERE DE VERE.--"Oh, I say. How you do chaff! You never take me seriously!"

AMERICAN BELLE.--"You never asked me!" (_No cards._)]

* * * * *

MATER.--"Papa, dear, do you know a halfpenny weekly paper called _Flipbutts_?"

PATER.--"Never heard of it in my life!"

MATER.--"Well, it offers ninepence a column for answering questions, and they _are_ so difficult, and we _do_ so want to make a little money! Do leave off your novel and help us a little." (_Pater can only write two novels a year, but gets L10,000 for each of them._)]

* * * * *

HE.--"Look! Here comes young Brummell Washington, with his bride. I wonder what on earth induced him to marry her?"

SHE.--"Oh, probably somebody bet him he wouldn't!"]

* * * * *

HOSTESS.--"You must give your arm to Miss Malecho, William, and put her on your right, and make yourself as agreeable as you possibly can!"

HOST.--"Why, she's a person of no consequence whatever!"

HOSTESS.--"Oh, yes, she is! She's very ill-natured, and tells the most horrid lies about people if they don't pay her the very greatest attention!"]

* * * * *

"Auntie, darling, this is my new friend, Georgie Jones. He _is_ nice. And isn't it funny, my birthday is the ninth of January, and his is the tenth, so you see we only just escaped being twins!"]

* * * * *

(The Freemasonry of Art.)

HE.--"I beg your pardon--but--er would you be so kind as to give me the 'G'?"

SHE.--"Oh, certainly." (_Gives it._)

HE.--"Thanks, awfully!" (_Bows and proceeds on his way._)]

* * * * *

HOSTESS.--"Oh, _pray_ don't leave off, Herr Rosencranz. That was a lovely song you just began!"

EMINENT BARYTONE.--"Yes, matame, bot it tit not harmonise viz de cheneral gonferzation. It is in _B vlat_, and you and all your vrents are talking in _G_. I haf a zong in _F_ and a zong in _A sharp_, bot I haf no zong in _G_!"

ACCOMPANIST.--"Ach! Berhaps, to opliche matame, I could dransbose de aggombaniments--ja?"]

* * * * *

"Look, Geoffrey! That's Lady Emily Tomlinson. Isn't she pretty?"

"Yes. And I s'pose that's _Lord_ Emily walking with her!"]

* * * * *

PROFESSOR BOREHAM.--"What! alone, Mrs. Highflyer? Your husband is not ill, I trust!"

MRS. HIGHFLYER (_innocently_).--"Oh no; but he was afraid he might be, if he came here!"]

* * * * *

MRS. ONSLOW-PUSHINGTON.--"What a very singular woman Lady Masham _is_, Professor! I have called on her every Wednesday this month, and the footman (who knows me perfectly) always said she was out, though Wednesday's her day at home, and there were lots of carriages at the door! She never calls on me--never! And when I bow to her, as I always do, she always looks another way, as she did just now. I must really call again next Wednesday."]

* * * * *

"What's the matter, dearest? You look sad...."

"Oh, everything's going wrong. The children are ill in bed, and nurse has got the influenza, and my husband declares that ruin is staring us in the face, and I've got an unbecoming frock, and altogether I'm thoroughly depressed...."

(_Breaks down._)]

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE MISSES TIPTYLTE.--"Such fun! We're going to Mrs. Masham's fancy ball as Cinderella's ugly sisters--with false noses, you know!"

MISS AQUILA SHARPE.--"What a capital idea! But why false noses?"]

* * * * *

"Tell me, Mrs. Jones, who's that young Adonis your married daughter is looking up to so eagerly?"

"Her _husband_, Mrs. Snarley!"

"Dear me, you don't say so! I congratulate you.... Now I understand how you come to have such good-looking grandchildren."]

* * * * *

THE PROFESSOR.--"Will you give me a kiss, my dear?"

EFFIE (_an habitually naughty girl_).--"Oh, mammie.... I'll be _good_, I'll be _good_.... I promise!"]

* * * * *

HOSTESS.--"Geoffrey, I want you to dance with that little girl!"

GEOFFREY.--"Oh, well, if I must, I _must_...!"]

* * * * *

BROWN (_who was all but run over_).--"Why didn't you call out _sooner_, you stupid ass?"

CABBY.--"I _did_, sir!"

BROWN.--"Why didn't you call out _louder_, then?"

CABBY.--"I _did_, sir!"]

* * * * *

MRS. GUSHINGTON.--"Oh! oh! what a lovely, _lovely_ picture! So true, so...."

OUR ARTIST.--"Wait a bit, Mrs. Gushington--it's wrong side up.... Let me put it right first...!" (_Does so._)

MRS. GUSHINGTON (_unabashed_).--"Oh! oh! oh! Why, _that_ way it's even more lovely still!"]

* * * * *

Grandpapa takes the bride in to dinner, and the rest follow anyhow.]

* * * * *

OUR PET ACTOR (_just arrived_).--"By Jove--these good people all seem to know me very well--nodding and smiling"--(_nods and smiles himself, right and left_)--"uncommonly flattering, I'm sure--considering I've never set foot in the town before!"

OUR PET ARTIST (_his chum_).--"I'm afraid it's _me_ they're nodding and smiling at, old man! I come every year, you know--and know every soul in the place!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

HERR SILBERMUND (the Great Pianist) TO MRS. TATTLER.--"Ach, Lady Creichton has for _bainting_ der most remarrgaple chenius. Look at _dis_! It is eqval to Felasquez!"