Mrs Albert Grundy—Observations in Philistia

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Frederic Harold. Mrs Albert Grundy—Observations in Philistia

Presenting in Outline the Comfortable and Well-Regulated Paradox over which She Presides, and showing its Mental Elevation

Setting forth the Untoward Circumstances under which the Right Tale was Unfolded in the Wrong Company

Annotating Sundry Points of Contact found to exist between the Lady and Contemporary Art

Affording a Novel and Subdued Scientific Light, by which divers Venerable Problems may be Observed Afresh

Touching the Experimental Graft of a Utilitarian Spirit upon the Aesthetic Instinct in our Sisters

Relating to Various Phenomena attending the Progress of the Sex along Lines of the Greatest Resistance

Illustrating the operation of Vegetables and Feminine Duplicity upon the Concepts of Maternal Responsibility

Containing Thoughts upon the Great Unknown, to which are added Speculations upon her Hereafter

Glancing at some Modern Aspects of Master John Gutenberg’s ingenious but Over-rated Invention

Detailing certain Prudential Measures taken during the Panic incident to a Late Threatened Invasion

Dealing with the Deceptions of Nature, and the Freedom from, Illusion Inherent in the Unnatural

Suggesting Considerations possibly heretofore Overlooked by Commentators upon the Laws of Property

Narrating the Failure of a Loyal Attempt to Circumvent Adversity by means of Modern Appliances

Introducing Scenes from a Foreign Country, and also conveying Welcome Intelligence, together with some Instruction

Disclosing the Educational Influence exerted by the Essex Coast, and other Matters, including Reasons for Joy

Describing Impressions of a Momentous Interview, loosely gathered by One who, although present, was not quite In it

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Much has been written about that variety of “cab-wit” which occurs to a man on his way home from dinner: the brilliant sallies he might have made, the smart retorts which would so bravely have reversed the balance of laughter had they only come in time. We are less frank about the other sort. No one dwells in type upon the manner in which we marshal our old jokes and arrange our epigrams as we drive along to the house of feasting.

No doubt the practice of getting up table-talk is going out. The three-bottle men took it to the grave with them, along with the snuff-box, and the toupee, and the feather-bed, and other amenities of the Regency. There never was but one diner-out in the London of my knowledge who was at pains to prepare his conversations, each for its special occasion and audience, and he, poor man, broke down under the strain and disappeared from view. The others are too lazy, too indifferent, too cocksure of themselves, to go to all this bother. The old courtly sense of responsibility to the host is perished from among them. But none the less, the least dutiful and diligent of all their number does ask himself questions as the whirling rubber tyres bear him onward, and the cab-mirror shows him the face of a man to whom people ought to listen.

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“I suppose the trouble arises from their all living in hotels – having no home life whatever,” said Mrs Albert, with a kindly air of coming to my rescue.

“Who on earth told you that?” I began, but was cut short.

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