THE AGE OF PRETENCE

HE Reverend Father Bernard Vaughan recently held up

T for come THE

to odium the section of the community that has come to be spoken of as the "smart set." He accused it of idleness, of criminal extravagance, of love of luxury, gambling and immorality, and he proved the truth of his assertions more or less conclusively. He might with advantage have alluded to the extraordinary development in the art of pretence, as hypocrisy is sometimes called, that has taken place of late years among many classes of the community or general public.

A cursory survey of the history of this country during the past few centuries bears out thoroughly the statement uttered the other day by a clergyman almost as distinguished as the famous priest just mentioned, that the period in which we now live is likely to be referred to in generations to come as "England's age of pretence." For we have had within the last six hundred years an age of religious intolerance, an age of bigotry and religious persecution, an age of cruelty, an age of lust and luxury quite as great as we are having now, and an age of prudery. During each and all of those periods "the snobbery of pretence," as Thackeray called it, was more or less in evidence, though at no time was it in evidence to a degree in any way approaching that which marks the opening of this twentieth century. And to-day, far from showing signs of

decreasing, it has every appearance of increasing still more and of continuing to flourish exceedingly.

A witty Frenchman observed in one of the Paris newspapers last month that "the English would be a better nation of pretenders if they pretended less badly." That Frenchman knew not merely what he was talking about; he had an eye for "artistic effect," and he knew the influence that artistic effect indirectly exerts. A lie told bluntly is no lie at all, for the simple reason that nobody believes it and it consequently becomes ipso facto impotent. It is the lie let loose and set in motion by the "artist" who merely walks round about the truth without in any way compromising himself, the man or woman who insinuates, hints at and "looks" the lie without actually uttering it, who is really dangerous; and perhaps we ought to feel thankful that though in this country the proportion of "artistic" to "inartistic" pretenders is undoubtedly growing, the former are still quite in the minority. If my memory serves, it was La Bruyère who remarked upon a famous occasion that it was "une grande misère que de n'avoir pas assez d'esprit pour bien parler, ni assez de jugement pour se taire." The average Englishman, if we take one class with another, will be found to be lacking in both esprit" and "jugement" in this particular connection.

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When jesting Pilate asked what truth was, he probably intended, if we can judge from the events that followed, to ask the meaning of the word "pretence" rather than truth. And now for the same reason we naturally ask ourselves what this wave of pretence, of hypocrisy, is, that is rolling slowly over England, until, at the present time, it looks as if it might well end by submerging us entirely. Little Englanders would have us believe it to be a sort of tidal wave that has come across from America, but we can have no valid reason for thinking that this actually is so. The inference is true only in so far that the inordinate worship of wealth that forms one of the distinctive characteristics of the existing passion for pretence undoubtedly had its origin in the United States.

Oddly enough this worship of wealth, according to contemporary political economists, is now upon the wane in America, while in England it is in the ascendant. This, they insinuate, is in a great measure due to the fact that millionaires have of recent years multiplied so rapidly in the United States as to be no longer looked upon with either wonderment or awe; whereas in this country one-third at least of the leisured class that is supposed to be well-to-do is in reality very poor. And being poor, it pretends that it is not, and worships wealth accordingly. Emerson told us that the outward appearance of wealth was the next most valuable asset to actual wealth; Lord Chesterfield in his letters to his son strongly advised that priggish young man to be a hypocrite in every way that lay within his power; while Thackeray himself whimsically observed that “matchless boots and spurs and a happy fierceness of manner often helped a man as much as a good balance at his bankers. These rather obvious truths our Englishmen and women of the twentieth century would appear to have become alive to quite suddenly, with the result that pretence in many forms is the order of the day, or rather of the age.

Look about and observe for yourself. There never has been a time, if history is to be trusted, when so many personsmen as well as women-wished it to be supposed that they not merely move among the set that has come to be spoken of as "the best people," but that they were and are upon very intimate terms with the more prominent members of that alleged exclusive coterie. In hotels, at foreign watering-places, in railway carriages, in some country houses even, you come across these pretenders and sycophants. It is almost impossible not to notice them, for they insist upon revealing their identity in one way or another, perhaps more particularly by their conversation. They talk for effect and to impress all who may be within hearing; and yet, if they but knew, they generally fail to impress any but the more obtuse among their listeners. In one hotel in London, to my knowledge, so possibly in many hotels besides, the visitor who hires a

carriage by the week from the hotel company has the option of having his or her crest painted upon it free of extra charge. Recently curiosity prompted me, and I asked the manager if many of his hotel visitors availed themselves of this privilege. He replied in a tone of some surprise that "of course quite a number did." "Mostly ladies?" I hazarded, anxious for further first-hand information. He looked annoyed. "No, quite as many gentlemen as ladies ask to have their crest painted on," he answered; and, as an after-thought, he added, “and why in the world shouldn't they?"

And as a demand of any sort creates a supply, so has this feverish anxiety to be considered better than one really is led to the formation and development of a new kind of industry, namely, the press agency business for helping to thrust prominently before the public the individual who is metaphorically panting for what these agents call in their bald language "social distinction." Several such pamphlets have recently been sent to me gratuitously by these "social press agents," as they call themselves, and two reached me some months ago. The class of business these five agencies transact is identical in every respect. To speak plainly, in return for certain preliminary fees, they engage to aid, abet and indulge their clients' "social aspirations" by "bringing the agency's influence to bear upon editors of many influential journals "-I quote from the preface of one of the prospectuses —“. . . in such manner that any information as to your movements that you may favour us with will appear simultaneously in different journals, either condensed or in its entirety." Was there ever before in this country a period when no less than five distinct and separate organisations of this class could have thought or found it worth their while to attempt to thrive mainly by encouraging Pretence and advancing the interests of the Pretenders? And if five such agencies are known to be in existence, how many more may there not be of which one has not chanced to hear?

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A different class of pretender that has multiplied very rapidly of recent years, and is multiplying still, is the collector

and "connoisseur" of antiques, Generally Generally "well-to-do," as it is termed, sometimes very wealthy, and almost always obtuse, he pretends that he is truly fond of antique silver, antique furniture, antique china, antique pictures, antique arms, antique armour, or whatever branch of the antique he may have decided to choose for his forte, and in consequence he poses as an authority upon antiques. Why? Because it is the vogue of the hour; because the Earl of So-and-So has set the fashion, and a well-known American millionaire, not to mention several much-talked-of City magnates, have bought recently at a sale by public anction, held in a fashionable westend sale-room, classic antiques at immense and wholly disproportionate figures. I have it upon indisputable authority that there never has been anything approaching the number of "art collectors" in England that there is to-day, and that never, so far back as my informant can recollect, has so much "imitation antique," so admirably executed as to deceive from time to time even very clever bonâ-fide experts, been placed upon the market. And in connection with this the following incident related to me by the senior partner of a distinguished firm of London solicitors is interesting. A well-known picture dealer, while calling upon a lady one day, noticed hanging upon the wall an excellent copy of, let us call it, a Greuze—though that was not the name. After examining it closely, he offered her a very big price for it. "But," the lady exclaimed in amazement, "it is not a Greuze, it is only a copy; So-and-So did it. I was with him when he painted it, and I bought it from him." But the dealer was obdurate. He assured her she must be mistaken, that it was an original and genuine Greuze, and eventually he bought it from her and paid the big price he had offered at the outset. A few days later this picture was sold for a very much bigger sum to a modern "art collector." I state this as a fact. The inference is obvious.

Recently I had a long conversation with a man who for many years has earned a more or less precarious livelihood by copying old masters. During the last seven years he has