| | | | | We are not among those who would treat with | contempt the wail of despair that has lately issued | form Belgravia. Business is slack everywhere; but in | the matrimonial market we are well aware that | matters are fast verging to a commercial crisis. The | market is absolutely glutted with unsaleable young | ladies. Heiresses, of course, are still brisk, and | something is doing in pretty orphans. A little inquiry | has been made for motherless articles of prime quality, | the absence of a mother-in-law increasing the price | considerably. But buyers will not look at the ordinary, | well-chaperoned, pink and white, unexceptionable | young lady. Whole rows of them may be seen | undisposed of in any ball-room, wrapped up in their | own weight of tarlatan, and exhibiting themselves to | some sauntering and languid eldest son. They are of | all kinds, fair and dark, simpering and demure, and of | all growths, from the blooming | debutante of the last drawing-room to the pale | ball-worn veteran upon whom the shades of old-maidship | are rapidly lengthening. The eldest son eyes | them all with a polite insouciance, as a well-fed fish | eyes the bait on a bright day. The angler whom he | fears sits against the wall, looking disinterested and | indifferent; but he has probably had one or two | narrow escapes, and he knows and respects her skill. | He is proof against all the allurements she can | contrive. In vain has the cost of dress quadrupled in | recent years. In vain have the dresses swelled below | and shrunk above, resulting in milliners' bills of | extraordinary length and shoulders of extraordinary | expanse. The article is got up for the market with | admirable skill, but buyers have lost all confidence, | and the commoner qualities are quite unmarketable. | Under these circumstances, Belgravia has uttered a | piteous appeal for succour to the public opinion of the | world that lives outside its charmed circle. Such an | appeal speaks for itself. Nothing but the extremity of | distress could have extracted it. A trader would as | soon think of prematurely publishing his own | bankruptcy as a mother of needlessly admitting that | she had failed in the great maternal function of | catching elder sons. The confession will not be | extorted from her till July after July has passed over | her head, and each time she has felt that she has lost a | season. | Many various reasons have been assigned for this | melancholy stagnation in an interesting trade. Some | lay it to the unparalleled selfishness of the young men | of the present day, others to the luxury of the clubs. | But the favourite theory attributes the cause to the | unusual fascinations which are on all hands ascribed | to the present race of

"pretty horse-breakers." |

This subject has elicited an amount of | enthusiasm from some of the newspaper | correspondents which makes us hope that the days of | Ovidian poetry are not absolutely extinct. One | gentleman attributes to the Corinnas of his | acquaintance a list of virtues far surpassing those | which ordinarily appear upon the tombstones of late | lamented wives. He sees in them not only the usual | charms which their success implies, but even the | refinement of manner and the economy of domestic | management which he professes himself unable to | discover in fashionable matrons. He evidently | represents the most advanced school upon the | conjugal question. He belongs to the party of | progress in domestic politics. He looks upon the | marriage ceremony as a mediaeval rite of a | deleterious character, which quite accounts for all | feminine shortcomings. No doubt, when Sir | Cresswell has pursued his congenial labours a little | longer, we shall be of his mind. But at present we | cannot profess to go the whole way with him. We | incline to the old belief, that pretty horse-breakers | occasionally spend money, and that superior | refinement is not necessarily the result of a vicious | life. If we might venture to assign a cause for the | present paralysis of that commerce whose clearing-house | is in St. George's, Hanover-square, we should | say that it was much the same cause as that to which | all trade failures are owing. | No-one believes a tradesman who imputes his | ill-success to the unaccountable ill-temper of his | customers; and we are not inclined to give more credit | to the mammas who attribute the scarcity of | marriages to the abominable backwardness of young | men. The truth is, that the evil in both cases has the | same origin. Customers and bridegrooms will come | fast enough if the goods offered are worth the price | they are asked to pay. But in both cases the price is | too large, and the goods are too worthless. | The enterprising mothers who get up their daughters | for the wife-market appear to labour under the | permanent delusion that what a man looks for in a | wife is a bad imitation of a

"pretty horsebreaker." |

Putting morality aside for the moment, the | functions of those two institutions are very intelligible | and very distinct. The aim of the latter is sheer | amusement. When she has succeeded in amusing the | man whom she is fleecing, she has accomplished the | end of her elevated vocation; and as soon as by that | means she has taken all the available wool off him, | she has nothing to do but to get rid of him as fast as | possible, and look for | someone else. If, therefore, such a thing exists | as a woman brought up for this trade, her education | would correspond with this end. She would be | sedulously taught every kind of accomplishment. She | would learn to sing well, dance well, ride well; to flirt | amusingly, to move gracefully, to dress attractively. | So she would be best fitted to afford men the | amusement for which, during the earlier years of life, | they are willing to pay so dearly and to go through so | much moral degradation. Oddly enough, this is | precisely the education which numbers of careful | mothers give to their daughters. Any stranger who | knew nothing of our customs, and judged of people's | motives merely from their acts, would imagine that | most of the young ladies in Belgravia were being | educated to be pretty horse-breakers. Their training is | concentrated on this one point, that they may be | eligible objects for young gentlemen to make love to. | It never seems to have occurred to those who have | had the devising of fashionable female education that | there will be a period in a woman's life when she will, | or ought to cease being made love to. On the prosaic | duties which lie beyond that interesting epoch no | educator bestows a thought. The whole training is | devoted to a preparation for her young-lady existence, | which is, according to the present fashion, | diametrically the reverse of what the whole of the rest | of her life ought to be. It is a strange enough that any | rational beings should think this a wholesome | education for their daughters; but it is stranger still | that they should think it the way to ensure their | getting husbands. All that it does ensure them is | plenty of flirtation. The idea seems to be, that | whatever men will flirt with, should have sufficed to | dispel. The majority of fashionable mothers appear to | have studied with envy the accomplishments of the | pretty horse-breakers, and to have conceived the | ingenious plan of entrapping men to make wives of | their daughters by fitting them to be their mistresses. | No wonder this clever stratagem breaks down in | practice. In the first place, it is idle for the amateurs | to attempt to compete with the profession. If mere | power of amusement is to be the object of education, | those who are weighted with any of the shackles of | morality, however slight, will be outrun by those who | are absolutely free. In the second place, men are not | quite such lunatics as the fashionable mothers appear | to think. They know that the power of amusement | may beguile odd evenings during a few years of life. | But to pass a whole life with a woman who can do | nothing but amuse, is like dining for life on | sugar-candy. The mass of men, moral or immoral, are | perfectly aware that the qualifications of a companion | for life are of a very different kind, and that a lively | mistress would be a most intolerable wife. Young | ladies are taught to play to admiration, to dance | beautifully, and to chaff saucily; and if they were | intended for

"temporary engagements,"

the | preparation would be perfect. The choice of Hercules | before an eldest son, therefore, is this: ~~ St. John's | Wood offers him the real thing; Belgravia offers him | a washed-out and imperfect imitation. But Belgravia | insists that he shall tie himself to the inferior article | for life; while St. John's Wood is content that he | should change whenever he thinks fit. The results to | which a rivalry conducted on these terms generally | leads may be deplorable, but can hardly be called | wonderful. Belgravia must not be surprised if the | immoral men prefer temporary to permanent Hetaerae, | and if the moral men look elsewhere for genuine | wives. | | Unluckily, the mothers do not take this view of the | subject. They imagine that their daughters, having | been duly crammed with ornamental | accomplishments and with nothing else, are all that | men could desire for wives. Under this impression | they charge for them a price which is prohibitory to | all but eldest sons. The young lady must

"be | supported in the style of living to which she has been | accustomed."

In other words, her husband must | be as rich as her father is, and as her eldest brother | will be. Then there is that feudal heriot levied by the | attorneys upon all marriages in the upper class, which | goes by the name of settlements. Of course these | difficulties do not affect an eldest son. Except in | paying a heavy blackmail to the lawyers and severely | trying everybody's temper, settlements do not do | much harm to those happy mortals who are able to | rest content with investments in land or in the Three | per Cents. But, by a cruel dispensation of Providence, | the number of eldest sons is limited; and the doctrine | that every young lady must live as luxuriously as her | mother is living, and is to marry | no-one who is not in a position to

"settle" |

all his own money ~~ that is, to part with all | control over it ~~ effectually puts the younger sons | out of the question. No wonder there is a famine of | bridegrooms. We can only suggest one remedy to the | distressed Belgravian mothers. It may seem startling | at first sight, but we are sure that, the more they think | over it, the more it will commend itself to their | maternal aspirations. It is that the eldest sons should | be allowed, like the Mahometans, to marry four wives | a-piece. If this measure does not remedy the evil of | course it will be open for consideration whether the | permissive legislation should not be made | compulsory, and the eldest sons forced to marry four | wives a-piece. But we entertain a sanguine hope that | no such harsh proceeding would be necessary. It is | generally acknowledged that the tendency of | polygamy is to reduce wives to the condition of | mistresses ~~ a change which would exactly adapt | itself to the education of most Belgravian young | ladies; and the new law would of course get rid at | once of the appalling scarcity of | partis which carries terror to every maternal | heart. As for the younger sons, they should, in such a | case, no longer be allowed to tempt unwary young | ladies from a loyal and steady devotion to the main | chance. Perhaps the best way would be to retort on | them the insult of Mount Athens, and to forbid them | even to darken the Belgravian pavement with their | detrimental shadows.