Piccadilly to Pall Mall : manners, morals, and man

Front matter

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MANNERS, MORALS, AND MAN

II

HE London Society of the past was often severely censured for its devotion to frivolity and pleasure, which were said to monopolize its interests to the exclusion of everything else.

Business before pleasure is its watchword to-day, when the chief concern of the majority is to extend an eager welcome to any wealthy nobody who may seem likely to be of use.

Woman it is rather than man who has brought this state of affairs about — women, as Napoleon said, :aring at heart nothing about social differences ; to many of them, one man is as good as another, and better — if he is rich. So has it come about that wealth, even when vulgar and unattractive, more or ess dominates the modern equivalent for Society.

One of the marked features of the present epoch is :he complete disappearance of the great hostesses who n former days played such an important part in Society. Hostesses, it is true, still exist in abundance, )ut there is hardly one of them to-day who wields mything like the social power enjoyed by the great adies of the past, such as the Dowager Lady Stanley >f Alderley, who held a prominent position during i certain portion of the Victorian era. The eldest daughter of the thirteenth Lord Dillon, the late Lady Stanley was a real “ grande dame,” not merely by birth, but by disposition. Lady Stanley of Alderley exercised material influence over a number of distinguished men and women whose names are blazoned on England’s roll of fame. Amongst them was Carlyle. A strong character, a strong intelligence, a strong constitution, allied with strong sympathies, made up a combination of attributes which, added to considerable social consideration, necessarily forced her to the front amongst the English women of her time. Her house in Dover Street — now the Arts Club — was for long a centre from which radiated an amount of charitable assistance which was practically unbounded. Industry, intelligence, influence, and sympathy were the dominant notes in the life of this great gentlewoman, who, tireless even in the retirement to which she betook herself towards the end of her life, is still remembered by those privileged to have known her.

Of an altogether different type was Lady Combermere, an old-fashioned lady, who in some ways betrayed a good deal of eccentricity. Her love for colour, for instance, was palpable from the moment one entered her doors. To railways, also, she had a deep-rooted dislike ; only once in her life is she said to have availed herself of this modern mode of transit. It was her habit to spend part of the year at St. Leonards, where she had a house in Warrior Square, and her journey both there and back was invariably made in the ponderous red-wheeled coach which was for years so familiar to dwellers in the West End. She was a perfect encyclopedia of social reminiscences, and could tell people all about their grandfather as readily as detail the latest report current in town.

At the death of Lady Holland, nineteen years ago, disappeared the last of the “ Salons,” as they were formerly understood. Lady Holland passed away in a very resigned manner. On realizing that her end was near a message was, at her own request, sent to the neighbouring Carmelite Convent. A priest having administered the last rites of the Church, she calmly awaited a death which crept peacefully upon her. Almost up to the very end she was quite conscious, and on a sympathetic message from the Prince of Wales being communicated to her, replied, “ Give him my love.” Lady Holland was a great lady of the old school — clever, full of information and anecdote, good-natured, and most charitable. With her snapped another old-world link. Before marriage Miss Augusta Coventry, only daughter of George William, eighth Earl of Coventry, she was born on II May, 1812, being married to Lord Holland in 1833. The title having become extinct, Holland House passed into the hands of Lord Ilchester.

The mention of Lady Holland recalls the memory of the beautiful, talented, and ill-fated Marie Fox, whose youth and personal charms were at one time so great an attraction at Holland House, and about whose birth such a mystery prevailed.

The late Lord Bute, soon after he came of age, when he was the most-talked-about man in England, was declared to have been engaged to her, but as Lady Holland refused to disclose her parentage the match was broken off. Eventually Marie Fox married a German Prince, but only survived her marriage a very short while. All that was known definitely about this lady was that she was the adopted daughter of Lord and Lady Holland, but as to who she was, although all kinds of wild guesses were made, nothing definite could then be learned — Lady Holland never having given any information calculated to set the matter at rest.

The Dowager Duchess of Devonshire is about the last great lady whose knowledge of men and affairs gives her a unique social position of a quite different nature to that enjoyed by the ordinary hostess of the present day, who in many cases is little more than a mere caterer for flocks of guests, many of whom she does not know.

The late Duke, whose recent death has robbed this country of one of the few remaining politicians whose motives were ever above all suspicion, and whose views were ever actuated by unswerving honesty of purpose, is said to have placed considerable reliance upon his wife’s discrimination in political matters.

A man of singularly sound judgment, all England instinctively respected the Duke, who, beneath a certain appearance of nonchalance, concealed a number of sterling qualities of the highest order ; his strength of principle and unswerving adherence to any course of action which he deemed to be right earning him unusual respect.

The Duke, though not renowned as a wit, would occasionally make very happy remarks.

Whilst the Irish question was the subject of heated debates in the House, the wife of a prominent supporter of Home Rule happened to be sitting next to Lord Hartington, as the Duke of Devonshire then was, at dinner. Turning towards her neighbour, the lady said, “ I am sure, Lord Hartington, you would like to hang my husband.”

“ No,” he replied ; “ indeed, I should only like to see him suspended.”

As a rule, however, the late Duke was not by any means distinguished as a brilliant conversationalist ; on the contrary, he was a peculiarly simple and quiet English gentleman. Indeed, so great was the contrast between him and his speeches, that people who did not know him well could scarcely believe they had before them the man whose political orations were masterpieces of lucid, well-connected common sense. As he had refused to accept Home Rule from Mr. Gladstone, so did he decline to fall in with the Protectionist views of Mr. Chamberlain.

As is well known, the Duke was extremely partial to the game of bridge, in which respect he differed from the late Lord Salisbury, who knew nothing about cards at all. On one occasion the latter is said to have expressed regret at his own complete ignorance of the game in question. “ But surely, Lord Salisbury,” said one of his hearers, “ there could be no possible reason for your learning to play now ? ” “I beg your pardon,” was the reply, “ there is a very good one ;

* 49 for if I became a bridge player 1 might be able to see something of the Duke of Devonshire.”

At the time when the late Duke decided to adhere to the cause of Free Trade, Mr. Balfour sent him a letter which occasioned some comment, considerable curiosity being manifested as to how the Duke would behave. An individual, even more curious than others, chancing to meet one of the Duke’s relatives, inquired point-blank, “ Well, how does his Grace take Balfour’s letter ? ”

“ I don’t suppose,” was the reply, “ that as yet it has been taken out of the bottom of the pocket of his old shooting coat.” And as this was very likely, the astute answer effectually disposed of any more embarrassing queries.

The Duke, indeed, was somewhat careless about his dress ; contemptuous of buttons. As was once rather wittily said, he was fond of having all his doors and windows open.

The Duke of Devonshire was essentially an English aristocrat in the very best sense of the term, and as a politician, a marked and agreeable contrast to the modern school, some of whom seem prepared to barter all principle in order to keep or secure office.

Another Englishman, happily still alive, also known for his unswerving adherence to conviction and highminded view of public affairs, is Lord Peel. At the time of his elevation to a peerage it was well known that the retiring Speaker entertained a very strong objection to assuming a title. The eccentricities of Parliamentary precedent did not, however, permit

5° him to have his way in this matter, the question resolving itself into the simple formula of no peerage, no pension. The latter, as a matter of fact, is no pension at all, but a grant expressly voted by Parliament to enable the ex-Speaker to maintain the dignity of a Viscount.

This particular peerage, moreover, is not conferred by the Sovereign upon the recommendation of the Premier, but in answer to the petition presented to the Throne by the House of Commons.

Curiously enough, at the time of Mr. PeePs speech in the House of Commons announcing his resignation of the chair, he would seem to have omitted all mention of his resignation. Beginning “ I ask leave to make an announcement to the House. . . . Considerations of health which I cannot overlook have obliged me to come to a decision. . . the Speaker then proceeded to review in brief the history of his career in the chair, to compliment the officials of the House, and to offer a few words of useful advice — but of resignation no mention or word.

The omission in question was no doubt the result of the emotion inseparable from such an occasion.

Even well - seasoned politicians are sometimes affected ; whilst instances of nervous collapse in the House of Commons have been by no means scarce. A well-known case occurred within quite recent years. The late Lord Sherbrooke — then Mr. Robert Lowe — completely broke down in the course of a speech in the debate upon the Royal Titles Bill. Happening to confuse his notes, he became bewildered and sat down in the very middle of his speech. He never addressed the House again after this collapse. The celebrated Lord Strangford, when Mr. Smythe, on one occasion stumbled over the pronunciation of an intricate word, and, losing his nerve, was compelled to sit down. Sir George Grey, who was Home Secretary under Lord Palmerston, was a positive martyr to nervousness, and he never addressed the House, even upon the most unimportant occasions, without betraying evident signs of this affliction. Another instance is that of Mr. John Stuart Mill, who upon a famous occasion utterly collapsed.

After the resignation of the Speaker, Sir Julian Goldsmid’s name was amongst those mentioned as a possible occupant of the chair. Almost every one of the six hundred and seventy members of the House of Commons, indeed, were suggested for this post. For all practical purposes, however, the choice was soon narrowed down to Mr. Campbell-Bannerman, Sir Matthew White Ridley, Sir Frank Lockwood, and Mr. Gully, Sir Matthew being for a time favourite. Since 1846 every Speaker had been a Liberal, and so there was little fear of Party jealousy playing any part with regard to the selection. Besides, Mr. Arthur Peel, by his strict impartiality, had raised the Speakership altogether beyond the influence of political bias. The election of Mr. Gully, as a matter of fact, was very popular with both parties, as was that of his successor, Mr. Lowther.

With the dawn of the twentieth century many changes have occurred in the composition of Society.

Gone, for instance, are the great doctors who once occupied a social position of a unique and undisputed kind.

The death of Sir William Gull, consequent on a stroke of paralysis, caused genuine grief throughout the West End. Sir William was the kindliest of men, many were the people who benefited by his great experience. He had two idiosyncrasies — one a fixed determination never to pay a cabman over his fare, and the other a strange partiality for cold plum pudding. As regards the first, every West End cabman knew of it, and attempted to avoid being chartered by Sir William. In other respects the great doctor was the most generous of men, and often himself spent more over patients than he received in return. He made it a rule to allot a quarter of an hour to each visitor, and if the consultation proper was over before that period had elapsed it was his custom to employ the overtime in genial and pleasant conversation, which converted many a patient into a lifelong friend.

About the last of the medical giants of the later Victorian era was the late Sir Richard Quain. Just as no new giants seem to be growing up to replace those who have gone — in art, oratory, statesmanship, and literature — so no new ones seem to be prepared to rule over the medical world.

A generation ago the great names in the latter were Sir William Jenner, Sir William Gull, Sir Richard Quain, Sir Andrew Clark, Sir James Paget, Sir Oscar Clayton, Sir Spencer Wells, and one or two others.

Most of them were not only eminent in their profession, but had attained social popularity through their conversational powers. They were experienced men of the world, who exercised much influence behind the scenes, and had established for themselves household names. To-day the fashionable physician is little more than a skilled workman, known for his powers of repairing the mechanism of humanity.

The late Sir Richard Quain knew his world well ; he had been behind the scenes in many interesting events ; he told the best of good stories ; he possessed the best of good spirits, and his generosity knew absolutely no limits. Not only did he leave a number of disconsolate patients, but also many sorrowing friends.

The late Sir Henry Thompson, who died only a few years ago, was also a well-known figure in the world of London. He used to give dinners of eight, to which only men were invited ; these he called his “ octaves.” A man of great cultivation, he wrote several books, amongst them a couple of novels illustrated by himself. In addition to his literary gifts he was also a discerning collector of blue china.

Gone also is the man of pleasure and fashion, who, whilst not a politician, millionaire, or public character, was possessed of considerable social power in the West End of the past. Such a one was the late Mr. Alfred Montgomery. Very handsome, very witty, and very worldly-wise, a particularly distinguished-looking old man, he possessed the courtly manners of a bygone generation, and remained throughout his life a favourite amongst those whose good opinion he thought to be the best worth having. He was a gentleman in the old sense of the word, with all the qualities, good and otherwise, which belong to the highly refined man of the world. The class of which he was almost the last representative has now passed away, being essentially the product of another age.

That school of cultured worldliness of which the late Lord Houghton was such a brilliant instance seems also extinct. With the memory of this erudite man of the world many great figures are insensibly associated, amongst them Disraeli, Gladstone, Palmerston and Lady Palmerston, Lord Lytton, Lord Dalling, Lady Waldegrave, Lady Moles worth, Abraham Hayward, Bernal Osborne, Baillie Cochrane — afterwards the first Lord Lamington — and a host of others, all of whom were exceptionally well known in their own day, and many of whom left reputations which will live.

Above all a man who took an intelligent interest in interesting things, the keynote of Lord Houghton’s nature was polish. It was well for him that his life did not overlap into this generation ; for the Society of to-day, largely dominated by financiers, would have sorely scandalized him. He strove to know all who were making the history of their own time, and this trait in his character caused much amusement to his contemporaries. In December, 1870, Lord Dalling, writing to the beautiful and charming Marie Fox the adopted daughter of Holland House, who afterwards became Princess Liechtenstein (she has been mentioned before), said : “ An ex-French Ambassador, who has got his house and horses at Paris, comes to me, and sits hours at a time expressing his hopes that the capital will surrender before his stud is eaten and his furniture pillaged. The spirit of contradiction has urged me to promise him that the siege will last six months — but it is over. Is one to regret or rejoice ? Houghton must be already on the road to breakfast with Jules Favre and to dine with Bismarck ! ” It might have been said of the late Lord Houghton, without exaggerating a hair’s breadth, that he had known or knew all the interesting men and women in Europe of his time.

Occasionally trenchant in his remarks, he was especially so on one occasion, when a clever but somewhat pompous individual, about to take up the appointment of Governor of the Presidency of Madras, was being entertained by his many friends at a big complimentary banquet. In answer to the toast of the evening, the highly flattered guest made an eloquent speech, incidentally remarking that since his very earliest youth he had always striven to consort exclusively with men of higher attainments and greater ability than himself. “ And you have signally succeeded,” Lord Houghton was heard to remark loudly, to the great amusement of all those around him, but to the no slight discomfiture of the speaker himself.

Amongst the innumerable good stories fathered upon him, the following is one of the best : A certain lady one day at dinner was contrasting the young men of the present with those of the past, and wound up by remarking : “ When I was young, half the men in London were at my feet.” “ Really ? ” inquired Lord Houghton. “ Were they chiropodists ? ” “ Se non

e vero, e ben trovato.” Again, on being asked his opinion on spiritualism, he replied : “ Well, I have noticed that most people are interested in the subject, but do not believe. I believe , but am not interested.”

Lord Houghton’s “ Memoirs and Letters ” monopolized a great deal of interest in those social circles in which he had been so prominent a figure. They were, however, generally admitted to be somewhat disappointing, since everybody had expected to find considerably more interesting gossip in them than they actually contained. Lord Houghton, Mr. Abraham Hayward, and the late Mr. Bromley Davenport were the three great dinner and drawing-room wits of their day, and seem to have left no successors behind them.

The death of Mr. Christopher Sykes removed one of the best known figures in Society at the end of the Victorian era. A rich country squire and a member of a well-known family, the late Mr. Sykes had access to all the most prominent houses from the start of his career, but neither his wealth nor his birth contributed much to enable him to become the intimate companion of almost every member of the Royal Family. At the commencement of his social life the late Lord Houghton, the late Mr. Abraham Hayward, and the late Mr. Bromley Davenport were the popular conversationalists of the day, and their wit needed a butt. Mr. Sykes and Maria Marchioness of Ailesbury were the two butts who were generally invited to dinners at which these were singly or together present. His invariable good humour, his old-world courtesy, and his gentle temperament soon won for him the friendship of all with whom he came in contact, and being thrown continually into the company of various members of the Royal Family, he soon became intimately acquainted with most of them. A Royal personage now has to be very careful in the selection of his friends, for an ambitious, scheming friend may become a favourite, and favourites are out of place in the modern Court of Great Britain. The late Mr. Christopher Sykes wanted nothing for himself or for anybody else ; was singularly discreet, and could be treated with considerable familiarity without ever attempting to be familiar in return. Besides, Royal personages seldom see others except in full dress ; that is, in other words, the latter, when in the presence of Royalty, almost invariably exert themselves to their utmost — a circumstance which must continually be tedious. With Mr. Christopher Sykes long flashes of silence could be enjoyed without the fear of appearing discourteous, and all who have experience of intimate companionship know how congenial such flashes frequently are.

Another well-known figure towards the end of the last century was Sir Henry Calcraft — man of the world, wit, and public servant. He had entered the Home Office when seventeen years of age, and as a consequence had reached a high position in the office when still comparatively young. He was the son of the Mr. Calcraft who, earlier in the century, was also well known in Society in London.

To-day men of pleasure, in the old sense of the term, have practically ceased to exist. A well-known type of this kind was Captain Charles Marcand, who was called by his intimates “ the Admiral.” A natural son of King William IV, Captain Marcand had, as a young man, been despatched by his Royal father on one of the many somewhat fruitless Arctic expeditions in which adventurous souls delight. He was a great supporter of the old “ Lotus ” Club in Regent Street, and a kind of secular Father Confessor to all the actresses of town. The death of his son, which occurred some fifteen months earlier, and the demise of his most intimate ally, Mrs. Fitz George, the wife of the late Duke of Cambridge, were terrible blows to this survivor of another age, being no doubt, in a great measure, responsible for his death, which occurred at his rooms in Bolton Street.

Another man of pleasure whose familiar figure disappeared about the same time was Mr. Frederick Cooper, a wealthy viveur, who was one of the kindest and most generous of men. In innumerable instances he performed acts of generosity which to colder natures seemed almost Quixotic. He left a curious will, by the terms of which his remains were cremated, a clause expressly providing that a sum of ^10,000 should be given to his nephew upon condition that the ashes should be scattered to the four winds upon the completion of this funeral rite. Mr. Cooper further bequeathed a sum of £5000 to his valet.

The expression “ a man of the world,” as such a term was formerly understood, meant something more than being sharp enough to accumulate wealth by extraordinary knowledge of business or speculation.

The man is the raw material, the gentleman and the gentlewoman are the material polished ; or, in other words, the man is the rough stone, and the gentleman is the gem after it has been cut. Unfortunately our generation only sets store by the setting. It judges by the expensive dressing, the expensive living, the fine houses, the conspicuous equipages, the servants, the display, and the obtrusiveness of manner. Contrast this attitude with that of our grandfathers, who required of gentlemen and ladies that they should be unobtrusive in their behaviour, considerate towards others, quiet, dignified, and gentle in manner.

A quarter of a century ago the West End associated itself with the City, and it is no injustice to either to say that since then the West End has acquired the worst failings of the City without adopting its good qualities. The City, on the other hand, has imitated that which is worst in the West End without acquiring that which is best. In the City, in consequence of the continual and eager struggle for existence which grows keener and keener every year, it has become almost necessary to be, to some extent, truculent and selfish — to push, to bluster, and ever to attempt to obtain the best of a bargain. Those members of the West End who have associated with city men have adopted these not altogether amiable customs, whilst seldom assimilating the generous instincts which so many city men have. On the other hand, the city men have developed a love for title and position, many of them exaggerating certain silly affectations so common in the West End of the town. All these circumstances have done much to destroy the good manners of our generation, for it must not be overlooked that the West End is, and always has been, the guide in the matter of manners.

With the rise of democracy and the keener struggle for existence engendered by the increase of population, the conditions of life have become far more unfavourable to the aristocracy and their connections, for whom in former days fairly lucrative posts were easily to be found. Many persons of good family are now in immediate danger of becoming paupers. In former days, when the community was regarded as the natural inheritance of every member of the upper classes, the peers drew freely from the public funds, and not unusually provided for their children by obtaining sinecures for them in the service of the State. The public, however, has now secured control over the funds of the community, and practically all employment under Government is open to competition. Under these disquieting circumstances certain peers turned their attention to finance, and, trading upon the love of all Englishmen for titles, sold their names to company promoters. Such a short-sighted policy, however, proved, in the majority of instances, anything but profitable. In return for a few hundreds of pounds, they merely enabled the latter to extract thousands from the pockets of their friends and relatives, besides ruining a number of small speculators and investors. The British public was induced by the presence of well-known names on the prospectuses to contribute money readily, for the average investor imagined that no man who occupied a high social position and had noble traditions to maintain would stand as sponsor to any venture without being assured that it was genuine. The idea prevailed that these peers were men whose reputations were above suspicion. No doubt they had little experience of financial business, or of the gold-mining industry, or of the intricate transactions of any purely trading concern ; but, as they permitted their names to appear as trustees for the shareholders, this was thought to be a sufficient guarantee that the enterprises they sanctioned were not of a fraudulent character. The peers, for their part, imagined that no company promoter would be so reckless as to use their names to float a fraudulent concern, and as the directors’ fees added to their diminished incomes, they accepted the appointment without reluctance.

So it comes about that the old aristocracy is busy toiling on ’Change ; whilst the astute financier takes his ease in the West End.

Without in the slightest exaggerating affairs, not a few of the [fine ancestral houses in England have passed into their hands ; whilst in London the nouveaux riches hold the reins of power and lead the tone of fashion of the day. People who would formerly have been ignored or patronized, ignore or patronize in their turn. Society has an important function to play in directing the public opinion and tone of its own time. It is therefore desirable that this body should be composed of individuals whose honour is above suspicion, whose personal and family antecedents are guarantees for their reliability, and whose education and instincts fit them for the leading part they have to play. If, however, their duties are carelessly made over to the latest adventurer who has achieved a temporary fortune, of whose past there is no record, of whose character little or nothing is known, no good can result. Scandal follows scandal, catastrophe catastrophe. The old rigid, artificial code of honour has been sacrificed to present emergency, and in its stead has been substituted one based on the infallible virtue of pounds, shillings, and pence.

A large proportion of the real aristocracy of England still looks askance at all this sort of thing, whilst affecting to ignore the increasing social power of foreign financiers. Nevertheless, facts must be recognized, and there is no doubt but that the West End of London to-day is to a great extent dominated by people, most of whose immediate forbears would not have been allowed to black the boots of the old English aristocracy of the past. A great many, indeed, were not English at all, but plied some humble and unsavoury calling in the back slums of those ancient little German towns, the names of which are now so familiar to West End ears. At the same time many of these people are possessed of good qualities, the majority being hospitable and on occasion generous — against not a few of them, indeed, nothing can be said ; nevertheless, they do not and never will take the place of the true aristocracy of England which, with all its follies, preserved a sense of dignity and tradition.