Bracebridge Hall, or The HumoristsIrving, Washington
General
Bracebridge Hall, or The Humorists
Irving, Washington
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; National characteristics, English -- Fiction
There is a well-known old proverb, that says "one wedding makes
many,"--or something to the same purpose; and I should not be
surprised if it holds good in the present instance. I have seen
several flirtations among the young people, that have been brought
together on this occasion; and a great deal of strolling about in
pairs, among the retired walks and blossoming shrubberies of the old
garden: and if groves were really given to whispering, as poets would
fain make us believe, Heaven knows what love tales the grave-looking
old trees about this venerable country-seat might blab to the world.
The general, too, has waxed very zealous in his devotions within the
last few days, as the time of her ladyship's departure approaches. I
observed him casting many a tender look at her during the wedding
dinner, while the courses were changing; though he was always liable
to be interrupted in his adoration by the appearance of any new
delicacy. The general, in fact, has arrived at that time of life when
the heart and the stomach maintain a kind of balance of power, and
when a man is apt to be perplexed in his affections between a fine
woman and a truffled turkey. Her ladyship was certainly rivalled,
through the whole of the first course, by a dish of stewed carp; and
there was one glance, which was evidently intended to be a point-blank
shot at her heart, and could scarcely have failed to effect a
practicable breach, had it not unluckily been directed away to a
tempting breast of lamb, in which it immediately produced a formidable
incision. Thus did this faithless general go on, coquetting during the
whole dinner, and committing an infidelity with every new dish; until,
in the end, he was so overpowered by the attentions he had paid to
fish, flesh, and fowl; to pastry, jelly, cream, and blanc-mange, that
he seemed to sink within himself: his eyes swam beneath their lids,
and their fire was so much slackened, that he could no longer
discharge a single glance that would reach across the table. Upon the
whole, I fear the general ate himself into as much disgrace, at this
memorable dinner, as I have seen him sleep himself into on a former
occasion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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