“Of course it does!”—­assented Villiers-"But what else do you expect from modern society? ...  What can you expect from a community which is chiefly ruled by moneyed parvenus, but vulgarity?  If you go to this woman’s place, for instance”—­and he glanced at the note Alwyn had thrown on the table,—­“you will share the honors of the evening with the famous man-milliner of Bond Street, an ‘artist’ in gowns, the female upholsterer and house decorator, likewise an ’artist,’—­the ladies who ‘compose’ sonnets in Regent Street, also ‘artists,—­’ and chiefest among the motley crowd, perhaps, the so-called new ‘Apostle’ of aestheticism, a ponderous gentleman who says nothing and does nothing, and who, by reason of his stupendous inertia and taciturnity, is considered the greatest ‘gun’ of all! ... it’s no use your going among such people,—­in fact, no one who has any reverence left in him for the truth of Art can mix with those whose profession of it is a mere trade and hypocritical sham.  Such dunderheads would see no artistic difference between Phidias and the man of to-day who hews out and sets up a common marble mantel-piece!  I’m not a fellow to moan over the ’good old times,’—­no, not a bit of it, for those good old times had much in them that was decidedly bad,—­but I wish progress would not rob us altogether of refinement.”

“But society professes to be growing more and more cultured every day,” observed Alwyn.

“Oh, it professes! ... yes, that’s just the mischief of it.  Its professions are not worth a groat.  It professes to be one thing while anybody with eyes can see that it actually is another!  The old style of aristocrat and gentleman is dying out,—­the new style is the horsey lord, the betting Duke, the coal-dealing Earl, the stock-broking Viscount!  Trade is a very excellent thing,—­a very necessary and important thing,—­but its influence is distinctly not refining.  I have the greatest respect for my cheesemonger, for instance (and he has an equal respect for me, since he has found that I know the difference between real butter and butterine), but all the same I don’t want to see him in Parliament.  I am arrogant enough to believe that I, even I, having studied somewhat, know more about the country’s interest than he does.  I view it by the light of ancient and modern historical evidence,—­he views it according to the demand it makes on his cheese.  We may both be narrow and limited in judgment,—­nevertheless, I think, with all due modesty, that his judgment is likely to be more limited than mine.  But it’s no good talking about it,—­this dear old land is given up to a sort of ignorant democracy, which only needs time to become anarchy, . . and we haven’t got a strong man among us who dares speak out the truth of the inevitable disasters looming above us all.  And society is not only vulgar, but demoralized,—­ moreover, what is worse is, that, aided by its preachers and teachers, it is sinking into deeper depths of demoralization with every passing month and year of time.”