The Autobiography of a Slander | Page 3

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SLANDER

MY FIRST STAGE

At last the tea came up, and so With that our tongues began to go. Now
in that house you're sure of knowing The smallest scrap of news that's
going. We find it there the wisest way To take some care of what we
say. RECREATION. JANE TAYLOR
I was born on the 2nd September, 1886, in a small, dull, country town.
When I say the town was dull, I mean, of course, that the inhabitants

were unenterprising, for in itself Muddleton was a picturesque place,
and though it laboured under the usual disadvantage of a dearth of
bachelors and a superfluity of spinsters, it might have been pleasant
enough had it not been a favourite resort for my kith and kin.
My father has long enjoyed a world-wide notoriety; he is not, however,
as a rule named in good society, though he habitually frequents it; and
as I am led to believe that my autobiography will possibly be circulated
by Mr. Mudie, and will lie about on drawing- room tables, I will merely
mention that a most representation of my progenitor, under his nom de
theatre, Mephistopheles, may be seen now in London, and I should
recommend all who wish to understand his character to go to the
Lyceum, though, between ourselves, he strongly disapproves of the
whole performance.
I was introduced into the world by an old lady named Mrs. O'Reilly.
She was a very pleasant old lady, the wife of a General, and one of
those sociable, friendly, talkative people who do much to cheer their
neighbours, particularly in a deadly-lively provincial place like
Muddleton, where the standard of social intercourse is not very high.
Mrs. O'Reilly had been in her day a celebrated beauty; she was now
grey-haired and stout, but still there was something impressive about
her, and few could resist the charm of her manner and the pleasant easy
flow of her small talk. Her love of gossip amounted almost to a passion,
and nothing came amiss to her; she liked to know everything about
everybody, and in the main I think her interest was a kindly one,
though she found that a little bit of scandal, every now and then, added
a piquant flavour to the homely fare provided by the commonplace life
of the Muddletonians.
I will now, without further preamble, begin the history of my life.
"I assure you, my dear Lena, Mr. Zaluski is nothing less than a
Nihilist!"
The sound waves set in motion by Mrs. O'Reilly's words were
tumultuously heaving in the atmosphere when I sprang into being, a
young but perfectly formed and most promising slander. A delicious

odour of tea pervaded the drawing-room, it was orange-flower pekoe,
and Mrs. O'Reilly was just handing one of the delicate Crown Derby
cups to her visitor, Miss Lena Houghton.
"What a shocking thing! Do you really mean it?" exclaimed Miss
Houghton. "Thank you, cream but no sugar; don't you know, Mrs.
O'Reilly, that it is only Low-Church people who take sugar nowadays?
But, really, now, about Mr. Zaluski? How did you find it out?"
"My dear, I am an old woman, and I have learnt in the course of a
wandering life to put two and two together," said Mrs. O'Reilly. She
had somehow managed to ignore middle age, and had passed from her
position of renowned beauty to the position which she now firmly and
constantly claimed of many years and much experience. "Of course,"
she continued, "like every one else, I was glad enough to be friendly
and pleasant to Sigismund Zaluski, and as to his being a Pole, why, I
think it rather pleased me than otherwise. You see, my dear, I have
knocked about the world and mixed with all kinds of