 | THE BACHELORS' ELYSIUM. The soldier's bride and other tales |  |
THE BACHELORS' ELYSIUM.
I passed an evening lately in company with a
number of young persons, who had met together for
the laudable purpose of spending a merry Christmas;
and as mirth exercises a prescriptive right of sovereignty
at this good old festival, every one came
prepared to pay due homage to that pleasant deity.
The party was opened with all the usual ceremonies;
the tea was sipped, the cakes praised, and Sir
Walter Scott's last novel criticised; and such was
the good humour which prevailed, that although
our fair hostess threw an extra portion of bohea
into her tea-pot, not a breath of scandal floated
among the vapours of that delightful beverage. An
aged gentleman who happened to drop in, at first
claimed the privilege, as “an old Revolutioner,” of
with facetious tales, told the fiftieth time, of Tarleton's
trumpeter, General Washington's white horse,
and Governor Mifflin's cocked hat, with occasional
pathetic digressions relating to bear-fights and Indian
massacres. The honest veteran, however, who was
accustomed to retire after smoking one pipe, soon
grew drowsy, and a similar affection, by sympathy
I suppose, began to circulate among his audience,
when our spirits received a new impulse from an
accidental turn of the conversation from three cornered
hats and horses, to courtship and marriage.
The relative advantages of married life and celibacy
were discussed with great vivacity, and as there
were a number of old bachelors and antiquated
maidens present, who had thought deeply and feelingly
on the subject, and were, therefore, able to
discuss it with singular felicity, the ladies' side of the
question had greatly the advantage. A gentleman,
who had reluctantly left the card-table to join the
ladies, gave his opinion that life was like a game of
cards—a good player was often eucred by a bad
partner—he thought it wise, therefore, to play alone.
“Perhaps,” said a fair miss, “a good partner might
assist you.” “Thank you, madam,” said he “courting
a wife is nothing more than cutting for partners;
no one knows what card he may turn.” My friend
Absolom Squaretoes gravely assured us that he had
pondered on this subject long and deeply, and it
had caused him more perplexity than the banking
several ladies whom he might have had, and whom,
at one time or another, he had determined to marry,
“but,” continued he, arching his eyebrows with a
dignity which the great Fadladeen might have
envied, “the more I hesitated, the less inclination I
felt to try the experiment, and I am now convinced
that marriage is not the thing it is cracked up to be!”
Miss Tabitha Scruple, a blooming maid of three
score, confessed that for her part, she was very
much of Mr. Squaretoes' opinion—it was well
enough for honest pains-taking people to get married,
but she could not see how persons of sentiment
could submit to it—“unless indeed,” she admitted,
“congenial souls could meet, and, without mercenary
views, join in the tender bond—but men are
so deceitful, one runs a great risk, you know!”
Mr. Smoothtongue, the lawyer, who had waited
to hear every other opinion before he gave his own,
now rose, and informed the company that he would
conclude the case, by stating a few points, which
had occurred to him in the course of the argument.
He began by informing us the question was one of
great importance, and that much might be said on
both sides—(“Twig the lawyer,” said Squaretoes.)
He said that so great a man as Lord Burleigh, treasurer
to Queen Elizabeth, had written ten rules of
conduct, which he charged his son to observe and
keep next to the ten laws of Moses, and that the
very first of them related to the choice of a wife.
in history, from Adam down to George the
Fourth, and after detailing the relative duties of
baron and feme, as laid down in Blackstone, concluded
with sundry extracts from Pope, whose
works he declared he set more store to than those of
any writer in the English language, except Mr.
Chitty. He was interrupted by a young lady, who
declared that Pope was a nasty censorious old
bachelor—so he was. The lawyer replied, that as
Mr. Pope's general character was not implicated in
the present question, it could not be properly
attacked, nor was he called on to defend it—and
that, as long as his veracity was unimpeached, his
testimony must be believed, which he offered to
prove from “Peake's Evidence,” if the lady desired
him to produce authority. The lady assured him
that she was greatly edified by his exposition of the
law, and had no desire to see the books—but confessed
that though she admired his speech very
much, she was still at a loss to know which side he
was on. “Madam,” said he, with great gravity, “I
admire marriage as a most excellent civil institution,
but have no inclination to engage in it, as I can
never consent to tie a knot with my tongue which I
cannot untie with my teeth.”
These opinions coming from such high authority,
seemed to settle the controversy, and the question
was about to be carried nem. con. in favour of celibacy,
when an unlucky miss, whose cheeks, and
and peaches, while all the loves and graces laughed
in her eyes, uttered something in a loud whisper
about “sour grapes,” which created a sensation
among a certain part of the company, of which you
can form no adequate idea, unless you have witnessed
the commotions of a bee hive. I now began
to be seriously afraid that our Christmas gambols
would eventuate in a tragical catastrophe—and
anticipating nothing less than a general pulling of
caps, was meditating on the propriety of saving my
own curly locks, by a precipitate retreat. Fortunately,
however, another speaker had taken the
floor, and before any open hostilities were committed,
drew the attention of the belligerents, by a
vivid description of Fiddler's Green. This, he assured
us, was a residence prepared in the other
world for maids and bachelors, where they were
condemned as a punishment for their lack of good
fellowship in this world, to dance together to all
eternity. Here was a new field for speculation. A
variety of opinions were hazarded; but as the
ladies all talked together, I was unable to collect
the half of them. Some appeared to regard such a
place as a paradise, while others seemed to consider
it as a pandemonium. The ladies desired to know
whether they would be provided with good music
and good partners; and I could overhear some of
the gentlemen calculating the chances of a snug
loo-party, in a back room. On these points our
general impression seemed to be that the managers
of this everlasting ball would couple off the company
by lot, and that no appeal could be had from
their decision. Miss Scruple declared that she
had a mortal aversion to dancing, though she would
not object to leading off a set occasionally with
particular persons, and that she would rather be
married half a dozen times, than be forced to jig
it with any body and every body. Mr. Skinflint
thought so long a siege of capering would be rather
expensive on pumps, and wished to know who was
to suffer. Mr. Squaretoes had no notion of using
pumps, he thought moccasins would do; he was
for cheap fixings and strong. Miss Fanny Flirt was
delighted with the whole plan, provided they could
change partners; for she could imagine no punishment
more cruel than to be confined for ever to a
single beau. Mr. Goosy thought it would be expedient
for to secure partners in time, and begged
Miss Demure to favour him with her hand for an
etarnal reel. Little Sophy Sparkle, the cherry-lipped
belle, who had nearly been the instrument of
kindling a war as implacable as that of the Greeks
and Trojans, seemed to be afraid of again giving
offence; but, on being asked her opinion, declared
that it was the most charming scheme she ever
heard, and that she would dance as long as she
could stand, with any body or nobody, rather than
not dance at all.
During all this time I was lolling over the back
of a chair,—a lazy habit which with many others I
have caught since my third sweetheart turned me
off—and was rolling and twisting the pretty Sophy's
handkerchief—for I can't be idle—into every possible
form and shape. I was startled into consciousness
by the dulcet voice of my fair companion,
as she exclaimed, “La! Mr. Drywit, how melancholy
you are! how can you look so cross when every
body else is laughing? pray what do you think of
the grand ball at Fiddler's Green?” “I never
trouble myself, madam, to think about things which
do not concern me.” “Oh dear! then you have no
idea of going there?” “Not I indeed,—I go to no
such places.” “And not expecting to inhabit the
paradise of bachelors, it is a matter of indifference
to you how your friends enjoy themselves?” “No,
indeed: I sincerely hope that you may caper into
each other's good graces, and romp yourselves into
the best humour imaginable with the pains and
pleasures of `single blessedness;' as for my single
self I intend, unless some lady shall think proper to
stand in her own light, to alter my condition.”
Having uttered this heroic resolution, I made my
bow and retired. But the conversation of the evening
still haunted my imagination, and as I sunk to
sleep, General Washington's white horse, Sophy
Sparkle, and Fiddler's Green, alternately occupied
my brain, until the confused images settling into a
regular train of thought, produced the following
vision.
I thought that the hour of my dissolution had
arrived, and I was about to take my departure to
the world of spirits. The solemnity of the event
which was taking place did not affect me however,
as it would have done, had the same circumstance
occurred in reality; for my mind was entirely filled
with the conversation of the previous evening, and
I thought, felt, and died like a true bachelor. As I
left the clay tenement which I had inhabited so
long, I could not avoid hovering over it for a moment,
to take a parting view of the temple which
had confined my restless spirit, and for which, I
must confess, I had a high respect. I could now
perceive that time had made ravages in the features
which had lately been mine, that I had not been
aware of while living, and that the frame which had
carried me through a stormy world, was somewhat
the worse for the wear, and I really felt a joy in
escaping from it, similar to the emotions with which
the mariner quits the shattered bark that has braved
the billows through a long voyage. Still, however,
I felt something like regret in quitting my ancient
habitation, and was beginning to recall to memory
the conquests I had made in it, and the sieges it had
withstood, when I was obliged to take my departure.
I had always thought that spirits flew out of
a window, or up the chimney, but I now found that
whatever might have been the practice of others,
mine was a ghost of too much politeness to withdraw
in this manner from a house in which I had
down stairs, and passed through the parlour,
where several of my female acquaintances
were talking of me. The curiosity which we have
all inherited from our first mother, would have induced
me to stop, had I not recollected that it
would be very ill bred in me to listen to the discourse
of those who were not aware of my presence,
and that, according to the old saw, “listeners
never hear any good of themselves.” I therefore
passed on, but could not avoid observing that the
current of opinion was rather in my favour, and that
those who allowed me no good quality while living,
now confessed that at least I had no harm in me.
As soon as I reached the open air, my spirit began
to ascend for some distance, and then floated rapidly
towards the north. It was a brilliant evening, and
as the stars shone with uncommon lustre, I could
not help fancying them the eyes of millions of beauties,
who, having made it their business to teaze the
beaux in this world, were doomed to light them to
the next.
I do not know how long I had been journeying,
when I discovered the sea beneath me, filled with
mountains of ice, and I perceived that I was rapidly
aproaching the north pole. I now congratulated
myself upon being able to determine, by actual observation,
whether the poles are flattened as some
philosophers imagine, together with other questions
of like importance to the happiness of mankind.
at the place, I found that all the philosophers in
the world were mistaken, except Captain Symmes,
and discovered only a yawning cavern, into which
I was suddenly precipitated!
I now travelled for some distance in utter darkness,
and began to be very fearful of losing my way,
when I suddenly emerged into a new world, full of
beauty, melody, and brightness. I stood on the
brink of a small rivulet, and beheld before me an
extensive lawn, of the richest green, spangled with
millions of beautiful flowers. Clusters of trees and
vines were scattered in every direction, loaded with
delicious fruit. Birds of the loveliest plumage
floated in the air, and filled the groves with melody.
The garden of Eden, or the paradise of Mahomet,
could not be arrayed by a poetic fancy with half
the charms of this elysium.
While I stood enchanted with delight, a strain of
music stole along the air, resembling that which
proceeds from a number of violins, tambourines,
and triangles, and I was not a little surprised to recognise
the well known air of “O dear what can
the matter be!” At the same moment I perceived
a female figure advancing with a rapid motion, resembling
a hop, step and jump. I now cast a glance
over my own person, as a genteel spirit would naturally
do at the approach of a female, and discovered
for the first time, that although I had left my substance
in the other world, I was possessed of an
behind me, and was clad in the ghost of a suit of
clothes made after the newest fashion, which I had
purchased a few days before my death. I mechanically
raised my hand to adjust my cravat, but felt
nothing, and sighed to think that I was but the shadow
of a gentleman. As the figure came near, she
slackened her pace, and struck into a graceful
chasse forward, at the same time motioning me
to cross the rivulet, which I no sooner did than I
involuntarily fell to dancing with incredible agility.
The fair stranger was by this time close to me, and
we were setting to each other, as partners would do
in a cotillion, when she presented her right hand,
and turned me, as she welcomed me to Fiddler's
Green. I was now more astonished than ever, for
although when I took the lady's hand, I grasped nothing
but air—“thin air,” yet she spoke and acted
with precisely the grace, manner, and tone of a
modern fair belle. She was exceedingly happy to
see me at the Green—hoped I had left my friends
well—and desired to know how I had been for the
last twenty years—since she had seen me. I
assured the lady that she had the advantage of me—
that I was really so unfortunate as not to recollect
my having had the honour of her acquaintance, and
that I was totally ignorant of any thing that had occurred
twenty years ago, as that was before my time.
She told me that it was useless to attempt to conceal
my age, which was well known at the Green,
Upon her mentioning her name, I recognised her
as a famous belle, who had died of a consumption
at the introduction of the fashion of short sleeves and
bare elbows. Having thus passed the compliments
of the morning, my fair companion desired to conduct
me to the principal manager of the Green, by
whom my right of admittance must be decided, and
offering both of her hands, whirled away in a waltz.
We soon came to a part of the lawn which was
crowded with company, all of whom were dancing,
and I was about to advise my conductress to take a
circuitous course, to avoid the throng, when she directed
me to cast off, and right and left through it,
a manœuvre which we performed with admirable
success. On our arrival at the bower of the principal
manager, the sentinels danced three times forward
and back, then crossed over, and admitted us
into the enclosure. My conductress now presented
me to an officer of the court, who, after cutting
a pigeon wing higher than my head, led me to his
superior. The manager was a tall, graceful person,
dressed in a full suit of black, with silk stockings,
shoes and buckles; an elegant dress sword glittered
by his side, but he wore his own hair, and carried a
chapeau de bras gracefully under his arm. He is
the only person in these regions who is permitted to
exercise his own taste in the ornaments of his person.
He was beating time with one foot, not being obliged,
like the others, to dance; I was informed, however,
minuet, that step being appropriated solely to the
managers, as the pigeon wing is to the officers of
inferior dignity. On such occasions, an appropriate
air is played, and the whole company are obliged to
dance minuets, to the great perplexity of those
ladies and gentlemen who have not studied the
graces in the upper world. He received me with a
polite bow, and desired me to amuse myself on the
Green for a few moments, as he was not then at
leisure to attend to me; by which I perceived that
dancing gentlemen are every where equally fond of
putting off business.
On my return to the plain, I was attracted by
the delicious appearance of the fine clusters of fruit
that hung from the trees, and reached my hand to
pluck a peach—but I grasped nothing! My fair
companion was again at my side, and condescended
to explain the mystery. “Every thing you see
here,” said she, “surprises you. You have yet to
learn that marriage is man's chief good, and they
who neglect it are sent here to be punished. In the
other world we had the substantial and virtuous enjoyments
of life before us, but we disregarded them,
and pursued phantoms of our own creation. One
sought wealth, and another honour; but the greater
number luxuriated in idle visions of fancy. We
were never happy but in imagining scenes of delight
too perfect for mortals to enjoy. The heart
and mind were left unoccupied, while we were
ear. In the affairs of love, we were particularly
remiss. Its fruits and flowers hung within our
reach, but we refused to pluck them. Ladies have
danced off their most tender lovers, and many a
gentleman has gambled away his mistress. The
flurry of dissipation and the soft emotions of affection
will not inhabit the same breast. We were to
choose between them, and we chose amiss—and
now behold the consequence! We are here surrounded
by fruits and flowers that we cannot touch—we
have listened to the same melody until it has become
tedious—we are confined to partners not of
our own choice—and the amusement which was
once our greatest delight is now a toil. When alive,
our fancies were busy in creating Elysian fields—
here we have an Elysium,—and we lead that life
which maids and bachelors delight in—a life of fiddling,
dancing, coquetry, and squabbling. We now
learn that they only are happy who are usefully
and virtuously employed.” This account of the
place which I was probably destined to inhabit,
was rather discouraging; but my attention was
soon drawn by fresh novelties. I was particularly
amused with the grotesque appearance of the various
groups around me. AS the persons who composed
them were from every age and nation, their
costumes exhibited every variety of fashion. The
Grecian robe, and the Roman toga, the monkish
cowl, and the monastic veil, and the blanket and
contrast. Nor was the allotment of partners less
diverting. A gentleman in an embroidered suit led
off a beggar girl, while a broad-shoulderd mynheer
flirted with an Italian countess. But I was most
amused at seeing Queen Elizabeth dancing a jig
with a jolly cobbler, a person of great bonhommie,
but who failed not to apply the strap when his stately
partner moved with less agility than comported
with his notions. When she complained of his
cruelty, he reminded the hard-hearted Queen of her
cousin Mary, and Lord Essex. Several of her
maids of honour were dancing near her with catholic
priests, and I could perceive that the latter took
great delight in jostling the royal lady, whenever an
opportunity offered. My attention was withdrawn
from the dancers by the approach of a newly deceased
bachelor, whose appearance excited universal
attention. He was a tall, gaunt, hard featured
personage, whose beard had evidently not known
the discipline of a razor for a month before his decease.
His feet were cased in moccasins, and his
limbs in rude vestments of buckskin; a powder-horn
and pouch were suspended from his shoulders,
and a huge knife rested in his girdle. I knew him
at once to be a hunter who had been chasing deer in
the woods, when he ought to have been pursuing
dears of another description. I determined to have
a little chat with him; and approaching, asked him
how he liked Fiddler's Green. “I don't know,
jubus that I have got into a sort of a priminary
here.” I expressed my surprise at his not admiring
a place where they were so many fine ladies.
“Why as to the matter of that,” said he, “there's a
wonderful smart chance of women here—that are a
fact—and female society are elegant—for them that
likes it—but, for my part, I'd a heap rather camp
out by the side of a cane-brake, where there was a
good chance of bears and turkeys.” “But you forget,”
said I, “that you have left your flesh and blood
behind you.” “That are a fact,” said he, “I feel
powerful weak—but I dont like the fixens here,
no how—I'm a 'bominable bad hand among women
—so I'd thank 'em not to be cutting their shines
about me.” “But, my friend, you will have to turn
in directly, and dance with some of them. “I reckon
not,” said he,—“if I do, I'll agree to give up
my judgment,—but if any of 'em have a mind to
run or jump for a half pint, I'd as leave go it as not.”
This gentleman was followed by another, who came
in a still more “questionable shape.” The polite
ghosts could not suppress a smile, at the sight of
this moiety of a man, while the ill-bred burst into
peals of obstreperous laughter. I easily recognised
him to be a Dandy; and as he, with several other
newly arrived spirits, were hastening to the manager's
court, I repaired thither also, in hopes of obtaining
an audience.
As we passed along, my conductress pointed out
of a delightful bower, near which was suspended a
richly ornamented tobacco pipe—while a huge tabby-cat
sat purring on the cushion. It had an inviting
air of comfortable indolence. On my enquiring
whose limbs were destined to repose in this convenient
receptacle, my companion replied:—“It is
called the Chair of Celibacy,—the happy maid or
bachelor, whose singleness shall not be imputed to
any blameable cause; who spends a good humoured
life, and dies at a respectable age, in charity with
all the world, shall be seated in that commodious
chair, enjoy the company of this social quadruped,
and, while pleasantly puffing away the placid hours,
may indulge in any remarks whatever upon the surrounding
company, and thus enjoy all the luxuries
of unmarried life. Its cushion, however, has not
as yet found an occupant.” “But this,” said I,
“can be the reward of only one meritorious individual—what
is to become of the remainder of those
who shall not be sentenced to dance?” “I cannot
answer your question,” said she, “for as yet no one
has appeared who could claim an exemption from
the common fate. I suppose, however, that if this
chair should ever be filled, others will be provided,
should any future members of the fraternity establish
their claims to the same felicity.”
We soon arrived at the dread tribunal, which was
to decide our future destiny; but before the anticipated
investigation commenced, the court was
the Dandy and my friend from the back woods.
The former, it seems, had indulged himself in some
imprudent jests upon the dress of the latter, which
so irritated the gentleman in buckskin, that he
threatened to flirt him sky-high.” The Dandy upon
this swelled very large, and assuming an air of vast
importance, declared, that “if a gentleman had used
such language to him, he would know what to do.”
“I tell you what, stranger,” said the woodsman,
“you mus'nt imitate any thing of that sort to me,—I
don't want to strike such a mean while man as you,
but if you come over them words agin, drot my skin
if I don't try you a cool dig or two, any how. An
officer here interposed, and with some difficulty restored
peace, as the bachelor in buckskin continued
to assert, that the other had hopped on him without
provocation, and that he wouldn't knock under to
no man. He was at length in some degree pacified,
and strolled off muttering that he wasn't going for
to trouble nobody—but that they musn't go fooling
about him. I joined the rough son of the forest as
he retired, and endeavoured to appease him by expressing
a hope that upon a more intimate acquaintance
with this place and its inhabitants, he would
find them more agreeable, than he seemed to anticipate
from his late experience. “Well, stranger,”
said he, “I want to be agreeable with every one—
but to speak my mind sentimentally, on the occasion
of this ruckery that's been kicked up, I do verbatimly
and for that reason, I dont vally what he says, no
how—and most of the folks here seems to be sort o'
crazy—but I dont like to be bantered, no how—and
if there's any man, that's rightly at himself, that has
any thing agin me, let him step out, and I'll give
him a fair fight—I'm always ready to offishuate in
that point of view!” I replied, that I hoped there
would be no occasion for a further display of his
prowess, and repeated my conviction, that all would
go well with him. “Well, well,” said he, “we'll
see—but somehow I dont like the signs—I dont feel
like I was at home here—I feel sort o' queer, like I
was out of my range,—but when I get right well
haunted to the place, maybe I'll like it better.”
The manager had now ascended the justice-seat,
and was prepared to examine the newly arrived
spirits. The first who presented herself, was an
unseemly maiden of forty, who stated her case with
great fluency. She assured the court, that it was
not her own fault that she was here, as she had always
conducted herself with great decorum, and
had never evinced any dislike to matrimony. Indeed
she had once been duly engaged to marry—
but her lover coming in unexpectedly upon her one
day, when she was only just spanking her youngest
sister a little, for breaking a bottle of perfume—“and
do you think,” continued she, “the ungrateful wretch
didn't march off, swearing he had caught a tartar—
and from that blessed day to this, I never set eyes
manager, “until we can find a suitable partner for
you.”
The next lady was rather younger, and more
comely. She declared, modestly enough, that she
had never been particularly anxious to marry, although
she had never evinced any particular reluctance.
She had remained unnoticed and unwooed
until the age of twenty-four, “wasting her fragrance
on the desert air,” when she captivated the affections
of a very amiable young man. His affairs
calling him abroad, they separated under a solemn
pledge that their union should be solemnised on
his return. His absence was protracted to above
a year, and in the mean while another lover appeared.
She remained constant until the approach
of her twenty-fifth birth-day, on the night of which
it was customary, as she understood, for the old
boy, to make his appearance to unmarried ladies.
The dreaded night arrived, and the maid was unwed—“and
I was lying in bed wide awake,” continued
she, “and the room was as dark as pitch,
when the old boy appeared, sure enough, and walking
on tip-toe to my bed-side (I could hear him, but
could not see him) he whispered in my ear
While you can,
Silly old maid!”
that I determined to find relief by obeying the nocturnal
my new lover. But on the very day fixed for the
ceremony, my first beau returned, and heard the
news; the gentlemen quarrelled, and then—made
up,—and I lost them both, which I am sure was
not my fault, for with the greatest sincerity I could
have sung—`How happy could I be with either:'
—but you know, sir, I could not oblige them both.”
The dandy now made his appearance, and was
about to commence his story with a bow as low as
his corsets would permit, when the manager suppressing
a smile, said, “Be pleased, sir, to pair off
with the obliging lady who stands at the bar,—your
appearance precludes the necessity of a hearing.”
A languishing beauty now approached, and gently
raising her downcast eyes, ogled the judge with a
most bewitchingly pensive smile, which seemed to
say, “Oh! take me to your arms, my love.” “My
history,” said she, “is short and melancholy. My
heart was formed for the soft impulses of affection,
and was rendered still more sensitive by a diligent
perusal of the most exquisite fictions in our language;
I devoured those productions, which describe
amiable and unfortunate susceptibilities of my sex,
and endeavoured to regulate my conduct by the
most approved rules of romance. I doted on manly
beauty; and knowing that gentlemen admire the
softer virtues, I endeavoured, while in their presence,
to be all that was soft and sweet. I selected
several handsome men, on whom I conferred my particular
of many I could fix one. To each of these I gave
my entire confidence, consulted as to my studies,
and entrusted him with the feelings and the sorrows
of a too susceptible heart—leaving each to believe
that he was the only individual who enjoyed this
distinguished honour. To all other gentlemen, and
to my own sex, I evinced a polite indifference. My
friends treated me with great kindness, but, alas!
what is mere kindness! Some of them pressed my
hand, and said a great many soft things without coming
to the point, and some would even snatch a kiss,
for which, not being followed by a declaration of
love, I thought I ought to have dismissed them, but I
had not sufficient resolution. And thus, with a heart
feelingly alive to the delights of connubial affection,
and after a miserable life, devoted to its pursuits, I
died without enjoying its blisses.”
“A little less solicitude to attain the object, might
perhaps have been attended with more success,”
said the manager. “We will endeavour to provide
you with a friend of whose constancy you shall have
no reason to complain. For the present be pleased
to stand aside.”
This lady was succeeded by my acquaintance
in buckskin, who declared that he never had any use
for a wife, no how—but that once in his life he felt sort
o' lonesome, and it seemed like he ought to get married.
“I don't think,” said he, “that it would make me
any happier, but though somehow, I'd feel better
neighbourhood—she was a right likely gal too, and
her father was well off—but somehow I didn't like
the signs, and so I quit the track—and that's all the
courten that ever I did, to my knowledge.”
“There is a lady in waiting,” said the manager,
“who has been as unsuccessful as yourself—perhaps
you may like the signs better in that quarter.”
“I reckon its as good luck as any,” rejoined the
gentleman, “I wouldn't give a 'coon-skin[1]
to boot
between her and any of the rest;” and seizing the
hands of the pensive beauty, he whirled her off
with a swing, which kept her dancing in the air
until they were out of sight.
Many other persons of both sexes were examined;
but their loves were common place, and their pleas
frivolous or unfounded. Pride and avarice appeared
to be the greatest foes to matrimony. It
would be tedious to detail the numberless instances,
in which young persons, otherwise estimable, had,
in obedience to these unruly passions, done violence
to the best affections of their hearts. The fear
of marrying beneath themselves, on the one hand,
and the ambition to acquire wealth on the other,
constituted prolific sources of celibacy.
Parental authority was frequently alleged by the
ladies to have been exerted in opposition to their
matrimonial views—but it appeared to have been
and where the lady's passion was not sufficiently
strong to contend against the parent's prudence.
Many suitable matches had been broken off by
manœuvering. This seemed to be equally effectual,
whether used in friendship or in hostility. We
heard of many old ladies, who having sons or daughters,
or nephews, or nieces, to provide for, resolutely
set their faces against all matrimonial alliances
whatever, by which a fortune or a beauty could be
taken out of the market; and many others who,
without such interest, opposed all matches which
were not made by themselves.
I observed, moreover, that every gentleman
averred that he could have married, if he had been
so disposed; and that not a single lady alleged that
she had been prevented by the want of offers.
The last lady who was put to the ordeal, was the
daughter of a rich confectioner, who fancied herself
a fine lady, because she had fed upon jellies and
conserves. It seemed as if all the sweetmeats and
sugar plums, which she had swallowed, in the course
of her life, had turned to vinegar, and converted
her into a mass of acidity. She forgot that sweet
things—such as girls and plum cakes—grow stale
by keeping; and turned up her nose at lovers of
all sorts and sizes, until she became unsaleable.
On hearing her doom, she cast a glance of indignation
at the judge, and throwing her eyes superciliously
darting towards me, with the rapidity of a tigress,
seemed determined to make me her partner or her
prey. Alarmed at the prospect of a fate, which
appeared more terrible than any thing I had ever
fancied, I sprang aside, and rushing towards the
judge, was about to claim his protection, when I
awoke.
| THE BACHELORS' ELYSIUM. The soldier's bride and other tales | |