THE LADIES COLUMN

Observer, Volume 1, Issue 12, 4 December 1880, Page 101

THE LADIES COLUMN

VV EVA'

DRAWING-ROOM DRINKING.

Not long ago a strange scene took place in a pretty garden not a hundred miles from London. The tree-shaded lawn was scattered over with seats, with here and there a bright-coloured Persian rug for the special behoof of any guests who object to open-air amusements on account of the " damp grass." To some minds grass is always damp. It was early in the afternoon, and the "only tenants of the garden were the servants, who were arranging refreshments upon some tables under the trees. They seemed full of nods and becks, and whispers of apparently mysterious import passed among them. A carriage drives up to the gate, and two ladies, entering, looked round for their hostess. The servant who has admitted them goes in search of his mistress, and a few moments afterwards a young and beautifully dressed woman issues from the house, her face deeply flushed, her eyes half closed, and her gait uncertain. Just at this moment another carriage drives up, a gentleman and lady being the occupants. They, too, enter by the garden gate, and advance towards the house across the lawn. As they approach the uncertain, swaying figure of their hostess they looked at each other significantly, and the Jady says in a low voice, " I was afraid of this. Where can Mr. K. be to allow her to be seen in this state ? "

The interpretation of those wild looks, that disordered hair, and those meaningless words is that Mrs. K. is intoxicated, though not sufficiently so to be quite helpless. She wanders about among her guests, her condition, however, being so palpable, so unmistakable, that the majority laugh and titter, while the friendly few pity though they condemn her. The painful scene was ended by the arrival of her husband, whose look of misery, as he led his •wife on his arm through the groups of gailydressed people into the house, touched even the laughers with pity. This is no exaggeration of facts. It is, unfortunately, a scene from real life, and, I fear, not an uncommon one. The love of strong drinks appears to be increasing among the educated women of our day. During the season just past, instances of this were so frequent as to lead to the conjecture that a kind of epidemic of drink was pervading those classes of society in which culture, position, and the possession of every comfort of life would appear to be a sufficient guarantee against so degrading a vice. "Society" ladies, intact, live too much upon excitement not to suffer from the inevitable reaction. For a few months in the year they endure continued fatigue in treading the social mill, and for the remainder they are a prey to " ennui. "^ They try the first dose of chloral as an experiment. "My eyes look so dull and heavy tins morning. So-and-so says chloral is such a capital thing ; I think I'D. try it. " In this case, as in that of rouge, it is not "the first step that costs." It is easy enough. But, from being an experiment, it becomes a practice, and from a practice, it developes into a necessity. It is no longer servant, but master. My lady has her halfpint of champagne about an hour after breakfast, another at luncheon, a glass of liqueur instead of afternoon tea, a regular sequence of wines at dinner, and brandy in her postprandial coffee. Her chloral in her dressing-room is as permanent and indispensable an arrangement as her bath, and much sooner missed from its usual position than her Bible. Descending in the social scale, we come to the wives and daughters of professional men, whose position renders the duties of the ladies of the family much less arduous in that respect than they are in the higher classes. An occasional dinner, garden party, or dance varies the monotony of every-day life, made up of housekeeping, crewels, visiting, and shopping. " Ennui ' has here her victims all the year round.. " Oh, if something would only happen !'' sigh the young, while the elder women, reeling a moral vacuum, try to drown \it by taking a second glass of wine at lunch, a third, or even a fourth at dinner, and so on, until it would be difficult for them to remember how many they habitually take during the course of the day. Drunkenness is much worse in women than in men, because its results are so terrible. Self-respect goes, and everything that is good goes with it.—" Truth."