Merry Laughter rose about her, as Doll Furious was seen in ample dimity, sprigged with Apple Blossom, footing it fleetly after the proportionless Persuasions of Senorita Fly-About, one of Buzzing Much to Rome!
“In my time”, said Patience Scalpel, “Women came to enough trouble by lying abed with the Father of their Children. What then in this good Year of our Lord has paired them like to like, with never a Beard between them, layer for layer, were one to unpack them to the very Ticking? Methinks”, she mused, her Starry Eyes aloft, where a Peewit was yet content to mate it hot among the Branches, making for himself a Covey in the olden Formula, “they love the striking Hour, nor would breed the Moments that go to it. Sluts!” she said pleasantly after a little thought, “Are good Mothers to supply them with Luxuries in the next Generation; for they themselves will have no Shes, unless some Her puts them forth! Well I’m not the Woman for it! They well have to pluck where they may. My Daughters shall go amarrying!”
FEBRUARY hath 29 days
THIS be a Love Letter for a Present, and when she is Catched, what shall I do with her? God knows! For ’tis safe to say I do not, and what we know not, is our only proof of Him!
My Love she is an Old Girl, out of Fashion, Bugles at the Bosom, and theredown a much Thumbed Mystery and a Maze. She doth jangle with last Year’s attentions, she is melted with Death’s Fire! Then what shall I for her that hath never been accomplished? It is a very Parcel of Perplexities! Shall one stumble on a Nuance that twenty Centuries have not pounced upon, yea worried and made a Kill of? Hath not her Hair of old been braided with the Stàrs? Her shin half-circled by the Moon. Hath she not been turned all ways that the Sands of her Desire know all Runnings? Who can make a New Path where there be no Wilderness? In the Salt Earth lie Parcels of lost Perfection — surely I shall not loos en her Straps a New Way, Love hath been too long a Time! Will she unpack her Panels for such a Stale Receipt, pour out her Treasures for a coin worn thin? Yet to renounce her were a thing as old; and saying “Go!” but shuts the Door that hath banged a million Years!
Oh Zeus! Oh Diane! Oh Hellebore! Oh Absalom! Oh Piscary Right! What shall I do with it! To have been the First, that alone would have gifted me! As it is, shall I not pour ashes upon my Head, gird me in Sackcloth, covering my Nothing and Despair under a Mountain of Cinders, and thus become a Monument to No-Ability for her sake?
Verily, I shall place me before her Door, and when she cometh forth I shall think she has left her Feet inward upon the Sill and when she enters in, I shall dream her Hands be yet outward upon the Door — for therein is no way for me, and Fancy is my only Craft.
SAINTS DAYS
THESE are the Days on which Dame Musset was sainted, and for these things.
January
When new whelped, she was found to have missed by an Inch.
February
When but five, she lamented Mid-prayers, that the girls in the Bible were both Earth-hushed and Jewtouched forever and ever.
March
When nine she learned how the Knee termed Housemaid’s is come by, when the Slavy was bedridden at the turn of the scullery and needed a kneeling-to.
April
When fast on fifteen she hushed a Near-Bride with the left Flounce of her Ruffle that her Father in sleeping might not know of the oh!
May
When sweet twenty-one prayed upon her past Bearing she went to the Cockpit and crowed with the best. And at the Full of the Moon in Gaiters and Gloves mooed with the Herd, her Heels with their Hoofs, and in the wet Dingle hooted for hoot with the Quail on the Spinney, calling for Brides Wing and a Feather to flock with.
June
When well thirty, she, like all Men before her, made a Harlot a good Woman by making her Mistress.
July
When forty she bayed up a Tree whose Leaves had no Turning and whose Name was Florella.
August
When fifty odd and a day she came upon that Wind that is labelled the second.
Septembre
When sixty some, she came to no Good as well as another.
October
When Sixty was no longer a Lodger of hers, she bought a Pair of extra far-off, and ultra near-to Opera Glasses, and carried them always in a Sac by her Side.
November
When eighty-eight she said, “It’s a Hook Girl, not a Button, you should know your Dress better.”
December
When just before her last Breath she ordered a Pasty and let a Friend eat it, renouncing the World and its Pitfalls like all Saints before her, when she had no longer Room for them. Prosit!
MARCH hath 31 days
AMONG such Dames of which we write, were two British Women. One was called Lady Buck-and-Balk, and the other plain Tilly-Tweed-In Blood. Lady Buck-and-Balk sported a Monocle and believed in Spirits. Tilly-Tweed-In-Blood sported a Stetson, and believed in Marriage. They came to the Temple of the Good Dame Musset, and they sat to Tea, and this is what they said:
“Just because woman falls, in this Age, to Woman, does that mean that we are not to recognize Morals? What has England done to legalize these Passions? Nothing! Should she not be brought to Task, that never once through her gloomy Weather have two dear Doves been seen approaching in their bridal Laces, to pace, in stately Splendor up the Altar Aisle, there to be United in Similarity, under mutual Vows of Loving, Honouring, and Obeying, while the One and the Other fumble in that nice Temerity, for the equal gold Bands that shall make of one a Wife, and the other a Bride?
“Most wretchedly never that I have heard of, nor one such Pair seen later in a Bed of Matrimony, tied up in their best Ribands, all under a Canopy of Cambric, Bosom to Bosom, Braid to Braid, Womb to Womb! But have, ever since the instigation of that Alliance, lain abed out of Wedlock, sinning in a double and similar Sin; rising unprovided for by Church or Certificate; Fornicating in an Evil so exactly of a piece, that the Judgement Call must be answered in a Trembling Tandem!”
“Therefore we think to bring the Point to the Notice of our Judges, and have it set before the House of Lords. For when a Girl falls in Love, with no matter what, should she not be protected in some way, from Hazard, ever attending that which is illegal? And should One or the Other stray, ought there not to be a Law as binding upon her as upon another, that Alimony might be Collected; and that Straying be nipped in the Bud?”
“Tis a thought” said the Good Musset. “But then there are Duels to take the place of the Law, and there’s always a Way out, should one or both be found wanting. A strong Gauntlet struck lightly athwart the Buttock would bring her to the common Green, where with Rapier, or Fowling-Piece, she might demand and take her Satisfaction, thus ending it for both, in one way or another.”