| | | | Few commonplaces of morality are better worn then | those which dwell on the banefulness of gossip; and | there are few which seem to fall so absolutely | pointless on the ears of those to whom commonplaces | of morality are addressed. Good books and sermons | are no doubt powerful instruments for the conversion | of the human heart ~~ at least, from their length and | number, it is obvious that those who compose them | think so. But they have no effect whatever upon | female or quasi-female tongues. The slaughter of | characters goes on as merrily as it did in the days of | Mrs. Candour. Gossip is a bad habit out of which the | world evidently does not grow. The increase of | civilization and the march of intellect only give it | strength and variety, while religious movements | stimulate it and turn it into a new channel. In spite of | moralists and preachers, it is not one of the | worldlinesses which the religious world rejects. It | holds its ground in many a circle which casts out the | theatre as evil, and has long ago renounced all | fellowship with pink ribbons. Its subject-matter is not | the same in the two worlds. In the religious world it | concerns itself with the theological errors of a clerical | neighbour ~~ in the worldly world it expatiates upon | the amatory vagaries of a fashionable neighbour. But | the nature of the gratification it ministers to those who | indulge in it is, in both cases, very much the same; | and the religious evil-speaking, on the whole, is the | more damaging of the two. | We must accept the fact, then, that this great social, | and very sociable, evil has an invincible hold over | mankind. Under these circumstances, we put it to the | moralists whether it would not be wiser to make the | best of it, and to discern in it a providential | arrangement. It is a favourite argument in favour of | field-sports that Nature has herself recommended | them to man, by supplying him with animals which | have a natural aptitude for aiding him in those | amusements. We think that Nature herself may also | safely be put into the witness-box to testify in favour | of gossip. There are some women who are obviously | created for no other purpose than to gossip. The | extraordinary agility of their tongues, the marvelous | endurance of fatigue displayed by that organ, their | total incapacity to reproduce without distortion any | thing that they hear, their abnormal passion for tea, | and their minute acquaintance with the peerage, mark | them out as distinctly to be gossips as the greyhound | is marked out for his special functions by his fleetness, | or the game-cock by his spurs. In taking away their | neighbours' characters, they are only acting after their | kind, and putting to the best use the faculties with | which they have been endowed. Does the captious | objector imagine that they were not intended to | employ that glorious and picturesque mendacity ~~ | that exquisite acuteness which never misses the | shadow of an ogle, or the echo of a sight ~~ that | sagacious foresight which enables them, at the close | of a London season, to cast with so much confidence | Sir Cresswell's judicial horoscope for the next year? | Tastes, too, or rather instincts, will not be overlooked | by the philosopher who is familiar with the argument | from design. The gossiping old maid has strange, | mysterious, inexplicable proclivities towards the | subjects from which her sex generally shrink. Surely | these tastes are not given her for nothing. These | instincts betray her vocation upon earth. She is | ordained to feed on scandal, as the scavenger-turkey | is ordained to feed on dirt. Then there is an argument | to be drawn from the protection which has been | provided for her. Nature shelters all created beings | from the dangers incident to the condition she assigns | to them. The negro's skull is thickened against the | sun-stroke ~~ the artic fauna are thickly furred to | protect them from the cold. So Nature protects the | old maid from scandal. Here gossiping propensities | might tempt her neighbours to fling it back against | her; but she is armed with a natural armour of proof | against the most distant insinuation that she is the | object of any illicit masculine aspirations. | We would go even a step further, and say that not | only is the vocation of gossips, both male and female, | marked out for them by Nature, but that it is | eminently beneficial in its results. If gossip were less | general, it might be very dangerous. There would | always of necessity be a little of it, for there are | spiteful people who have grudges to gratify, and find | that, as a vent for their feelings, backbiting is cheaper | than a lawsuit, and safer than an attempt at | horse-whipping. Then there are the exigencies of that | curious ceremony which, from the fact of its taking | place in the afternoon, is termed a

"morning | call."

When Mrs. A. calls on Mrs. B. at the hour | of four on a fine day, she expects that Mrs. B., if she | has the feelings of a woman and a Christian, will | direct her servant to say,

"Not at home."

| But it sometimes happens that Mrs. B. is forgetful of | her duties, or that her servant is fresh from the | country, and does not know how to lie with a good | grace, or ~~ which is the most trying | contre-temps of all ~~ that Mrs. | B. comes out of her | | door just as Mrs. A. is driving up. Then there is | nothing left for them but to go mournfully upstairs | together, and set their united brains to work to find | conversation for the regulation twenty minutes. | There is not an Exhibition every year; and the weather, | past, present, and to come, will barely last five | minutes. Human nature is weak; and they must be | forgiven if, in despair, they soon set to talking over |

"that dreadful story about Miss So and So,"

| and agreeing that it is a judgment upon her mother, | and that they always thought it would come to that. | Now, here comes in the inestimable utility of the | professional gossips. If these stories only arose now | and then from the bitterness of envies or the despair | of morning visitors, it is possible they might be | believed, and do real harm. But the old maids and | other professional gossips have so effectually cried |

"Wolf!"

that a scandalous attack upon a | lady's character is merely looked on as a playful sort | of joke, a good-humoured display of inventive genius. | It is piquant at the time, like the

"non-official" |

announcements of the | Moniteur, or Mr. Gladstone's promises of a | surplus; but it does not now command any more | serious credence. And this great step in advance, it | must always be remembered, we owe to the old maids. | In male society, the functions of this useful body of | women are assumed by the loungers at the clubs ~~ a | body chiefly made up of superannuated old bachelors, | and professional men who have been rising for some | time, but have not risen yet. Their opportunities, | however, are very limited now. Of old, politics were | their great field; and by a diligent attendance at the | club you might often know a fact several hours before | it was in print. But since Common Fame has taken a | corporeal form in the body of Mr. Reuter, who only | blows his trumpet twice a day, the occupation of the | club-lounger is very nearly gone. He is obliged to | content himself with facts the most minute, or fictions | the most wild. If he knows a political personage, he | can probably tell you what he said to the personage, | which will certainly rank among the minute facts, and | also what the personage said to him, which may be | safely classed among the wild fictions. Possibly he | can indicate to you mysteriously that there are | differences of opinion in the Cabinet, and perhaps | may darkly hint that he saw the Court Physician shake | his head the other day. But his political budget is | soon exhausted. The mysteries of the press are | now-a-days the favourite thesis of this class of gossips. | They are very great with the authorship of this | morning's leader in the Times; | and can give you a good reason, founded on an | imputation of the lowest personal motives, for every | opinion expressed in its columns. There is something | that irritates their curiosity in the veil which is thrown | over journalism; and they do their best to dispel the | darkness by a flood of imaginative effort. The | Saturday Review occasionally | comes in for its share of these ideal revelations. Two | or three times during our brief history, a fierce civil | war has raged among the conductors of this journal, | of which we ourselves were unhappily not conscious, | but the details of which have been carefully observed | and chronicled by our good friends at the clubs. | Recently, one of these catastrophes is supposed to | have visited us, and to have inflicted on us a sudden | and premature metempsychosis. We are informed, on | good authority, that we are no longer ourselves, but | have become somebody else. If we might be positive | upon any subject in opposition to the wise men who | know everything about everybody, we should venture | to maintain our own identity, and that, with two | exceptions, we are the same

"we"

~~ | although with very large additions ~~ that first | addressed the public six years ago. But it is not a | point on which we wish to dispute with them, or to | run the risk of spoiling the zest of their secret | information. Still, we feel with Amphitryon's valet | that it is embarrassing to have one's identity claimed | by somebody else. | | But there are few transformations which the | Quidnuncs of the clubs are not capable of effecting. | Our fate is nothing to that which some years ago | befell a respected religious contemporary, who, in the | midst of a triumphant career of anti-Roman polemics, | was suddenly discovered by the wise men to be the | devoted organ of a committee of Romanists. | On the whole, as a mere matter of taste, we prefer | what we must call the male old maids to the female | old maids. Neither of them do much harm; but | attacking tough old journalists and weather-beaten | politicians is a very innocent pursuit, compared to the | kind of gossip to which the petticoated | scandal-mongers are addicted. The spectacle of | half-fashionable women whose tempers have made them | nearly friendless, but whose pungent tongues retain | for them a certain amount of contemptuous | acquaintance, going about imputing sins they secretly | wish were their own, and manufacturing lies which, if | they had any effect at all, would poison for ever a | young girl's life ~~ such a spectacle, unhappily no | rarity, is one of the most revolting which our artificial | state of society can furnish.