Fashionable Philosophy, by Laurence Oliphant

Transcribed from the 1887 William Blackwood and Sons edition by David Price, email [email protected]

FASHIONABLE PHILOSOPHY AND OTHER SKETCHES

BY LAURENCE OLIPHANT

AUTHOR OF
’PICCADILLY,’ ‘ALTIORA PETO,’ ‘MASOLLAM,’ ETC.

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCLXXXVII

PRICE ONE SHILLING

PREFACE.

That railway travel is not, as a rule, conducive to serious thought, may fairly be inferred from the class of literature displayed on the bookstalls at the stations.  I have therefore refrained from any attempt to excite the reflective faculties of the reader, excepting in the first and third of the accompanying sketches, and even in these have only ventured to suggest ideas, the full scope and pregnancy of which it must be left to his own idiosyncrasy to appreciate and develop, the more especially as they bear upon a certain current of investigation which has recently become popular.

I have to express my thanks to the Editor of the ‘Nineteenth Century Review’ for the

kind permission he has granted me to reproduce “The Sisters of Thibet”; and I avail myself of the opportunity thus afforded of removing the impression which, to my surprise, was conveyed to me by letters from numerous correspondents, that the article contained any record of my own personal experiences.  The satire was suggested by the work of an author whose sincerity I do not doubt, and for whose motives I have the highest respect, in order to point out what appears to me the defective morality, from an altruistic and practical point of view, of a system of which he is the principal exponent in this country, and which, under the name of Esoteric Buddhism, still seems to possess some fascination for a certain class of minds.

The other articles originally appeared in ‘Blackwood’s Magazine,’ and I wish to express my acknowledgments to my publishers for their usual courtesy in allowing me to republish them in this form.

Athenæum Club,
January 1887.

CONTENTS.

Fashionable Philosophy
The Brigand’s Bride: a tale of Southern Italy
The Sisters of Thibet
Adolphus: a comedy of affinities

FASHIONABLE PHILOSOPHY.

Scene—A London Drawing-room. Time—5 o’clock p.m.

The afternoon tea apparatus in one corner of the room, and Lady Fritterly on a couch in another.  The Hon. Mrs Allmash is announced.

Lady Fritterly.  How too kind, dear, of you to come, and so early, too!  I’ve got such a lot of interesting people coming, and we are going to discuss the religion of the future.

Mrs Allmash.  How quite delightful!  I do so long for something more substantial than the theologies of the past!  It is becoming quite puzzling to know what to teach one’s children: mine are getting old enough now to understand about things, and one ought to teach them something.  I was talking

about it to that charming Professor Germsell last night.

Lady Fritterly.  Well, I hope he is coming presently, so you will be able to continue your conversation.  Then there is Mr Coldwaite, the celebrated Comtist; and Mr Fussle, who writes those delightful articles on prehistoric æsthetic evolution; and Mr Drygull, the eminent theosophist, whose stories about esoteric Buddhism are quite too extraordinary, and who has promised to bring a Khoja—a most interesting moral specimen, my dear—who has just arrived from Bombay; and Lord Fondleton.

Mrs Allmash.  Lord Fondleton!  I did not know that he was interested in such subjects.

Lady Fritterly.  He says he is, dear; between ourselves—but this, of course, is strictly entre nous—I rather think that it is I who interest him: but I encourage him, poor fellow; it may wean him from the unprofitable life he is leading, and turn his mind to higher things.  Oh! I almost forgot,—-then there is my new beauty!

Mrs Allmash.  Your new beauty!

Lady Fritterly.  Yes; if you could only have dined with me the other night, you

would have met her.  I had such a perfect little dinner.  Just think!  A poet, an actor, a journalist, a painter, a wit, and a new beauty.  I’ll tell you how I found her.  She really belongs at present to Lady Islington and myself; but of course, now we have started her, all the other people will snap her up.  We found that we both owed that vulgar upstart, Mrs Houndsley, a visit, and went there together—because I always think two people are less easily bored than one—when suddenly the most perfect apparition you ever beheld stood before us;—an old master dress, an immense pattern, a large hat rim encircling a face, some rich auburn hair inside, and the face a perfect one.  Well, you know, it turned out that she was not born in the purple—her husband is just a clerk in Burley’s Bank; but we both insisted on being introduced to her—for, you see, my dear, there is no doubt about it, she is a ready-made beauty.  The same idea occurred to Lady Islington, so we agreed as we drove away that we would bring her out.  The result is, that she went to Islington House on Tuesday, and came to me on Thursday, and created a perfect furor on both occasions; so now she is fairly started.

Mrs Allmash.  How wonderfully clever and fortunate you are, dear!  What is her name?

Lady Fritterly.  Mrs Gloring.

Mrs Allmash.  Oh yes; everybody was talking about her at the Duchess’s last night.  I am dying to see her; but they say that she is rather a fool.

Lady Fritterly.  Pure spite and jealousy.  Yet that is the way these Christian women of society obey the precept of their religion, and love their neighbours as themselves.

[Lord Fondleton is announced, accompanied by a stranger.

Lord Fondleton.  How d’ye do, Lady Fritterly?  I am sure you will excuse my taking the liberty of introducing Mr Rollestone, a very old friend of mine, to you; he has only just returned to England, after an absence of so many years that he is quite a stranger in London.

[Lady Fritterly is “delighted.”  The rest of the party arrive in rapid succession.

Mrs Allmash.  Dear Mr Germsell, I was just telling Lady Fritterly what an interesting conversation we were having last night when

it was unfortunately interrupted.  I shall be so glad if you would explain more fully now what you were telling me.  I am sure everybody would be interested.

Lady Fritterly.  Oh do, Mr Germsell; it would be quite too nice of you.  And, Mr Drygull, will you ask the Khoja to—

Mr Drygull.  My friend’s name is Ali Seyyid, Lady Fritterly.

Lady Fritterly.  Pray excuse my stupidity, Mr Allyside, and come and sit near me.  Lord Fondleton, find Mrs Gloring a chair.