We are killing ourselves in this country by inches, and that for a
tall man or an amazonian woman, is a dreadful reflection. In sooth,
our late hours break in terribly on real comfort, sound health, and
that refreshing sleep which "seals up the eyelids" in calm and soft
repose, and ministers to our real enjoyments. We marvel why _fashion_,
instead of being represented in bewitching and attractive colors, is
not drawn with a Medusa's head, fiery eyes and snaky crest--or, under
the silken cowl and wreaths of roses, a skeleton head peeping out as a
warning--a caution in time--a _memento mori_. In this country we eat
and dance ourselves to death with much more rapidity than they do at
the Sandwich Islands.
I met a friend on the _pave_ last week, who said, "Will you come to
our party to-morrow night?" "A party? How? Comfortable dish of tea,
game of whist, glass of whiskey-punch, and a sandwich, eh." "Oh, no--a
real tearer--a regular turnout--been preparing a fortnight. I must
give a couple every year for the sake of the world you know." "The
world, ha! Well, I'll come, and if I don't, you won't miss me in the
squeeze. Tell me, for old acquaintance sake, how much will the party
cost?" "Why, about fifteen hundred dollars." "Fifteen hundred dollars!
Prodigious! How many charming _tertulias_ in Spain, _converzaziones_
in Italy, and _soirees_ in France, would fifteen hundred dollars
procure?--and all this sum swallowed up in one dancing frolic!"
I determined to go, and a friend promised to call for me in his
carriage. I was ready at seven, and sat quietly until nine--half past
nine--ten; when, just as I was ringing for my slippers, and preparing,
as Monsieur Morbleu says, for my night-caps, _rat-tat-tat_ goes the
coachman, and in walked my friend--pumps and tight pants on--white
gloves and perfumed handkerchief. "So, sir, a pretty time you have
called for me; why I have been ready since seven o'clock." "Seven
o'clock! why bless you, the company only begin to assemble at ten; and
even now we are rather early." "Early, do you call it? Go out to spend
the evening at half past ten o'clock! Well, well, I suppose we must
not be out of the fashion--so come along."
Our carriage rattled up one of the principal streets, and a glare of
light was showered in all directions from the house. We fell in behind
a range of coaches, and had to wait until our turn, and found, on
alighting, a retinue of yellow servants to usher us in the mansion; to
take our coats, hats, and canes, and prepare us in form for the
_entree_. Every thing was elegant--gayety, fashion, and pleasure
reigned triumphant; beauty, in resplendent beams, shed its halo over
the scene; plenty, from its golden horn, was poured forth in all
directions; music, and the giddy dance, were kept up with unabated
vigor, until the russet morn had nearly flickered the east. I got
home; tossed and tumbled for two or three hours in bed, and then rose
for the duties of the day.
Having occasion to call on an old gentleman about twelve o'clock, I
found him in his parlor, with the breakfast table before him. "What,
not breakfasted yet?" "O yes, long ago--this is for my daughters, who
came from the party about three o'clock, and are not yet up." In a few
minutes the young ladies entered; but oh, how altered!--where were the
bounding step and elastic gait--the brilliant eye, the jocund
smile--the silken attire--the well-dressed hair, and jewelled form of
last night's entertainment? They were pallid and exhausted--their eye,
their hair, their dress, all _en dishabille_--both with a hectic
cough--both looking as wo-begone and spiritless as if they had just
escaped from the siege of Troy.--"Have you slept well, girls?" said
the anxious parent. "Not a wink, father--we tossed and tumbled and
worried for several hours, but not a wink of sleep--oh, my head, my
head--and oh, my bones, my bones." "Probably your restlessness arose
from eating too heartily at supper."--"No such thing, father--why, I
only ate a little chicken salad, a wing of turkey, some jelly, a few
macaronies and mottoes, a dozen pickled oysters, and drank a few
glasses of champaign, that's all--excepting a sponge cake or two, and
a glass of lemonade, during dancing, and a little ginger sweetmeats.
There's Lizzy ate twice as much as I did." "No I didn't, but I was
more select, father; a few slices of cold tongue--a piece of a-la-mode
beef--three pickles--a few olives, some _blanc mange_--two plates of
ice-cream--a little floating island--some truffles and bons bons--and
oranges, plum-cake, and custard during the evening. I'm sure I don't
care much for solids." "And did you dance after supper?" "To be sure
we did; one cotillion, one contra dance, the mazourka and a
gallopade." The murder's out! no wonder at head-aches, and bone-aches,
and heart-aches, and sleepless hours, after so much eating; and then
dancing on so much eating--churning these singular masses of food and
contradictory condiments in a delicate female stomach, with scarcely
sufficient gastric juice to digest the wing of a pheasant.--That's the
way our girls kill themselves prematurely; that's the cause of our
heavy weekly lists of interments; of the many cases of consumption,
uncharitably carried to the credit of our climate. Alas! how many
charming women are hurried to the grave by carelessness; by the
bewitching attractions of fashion; by keeping late hours; by thin
clothing, and by eating too much! The observation made by strangers
is, "how pale and thin your ladies are!" Why will they not have
resolution enough to discard these seducing and destructive
allurements; why not enjoy life soberly, discreetly, prudently?
What can be more agonizing to true affection than to see the girl
nourished with tenderness in infancy; amiable, intelligent, and
accomplished, gradually sinking into the grave ere she reaches the age
of womanhood? The pride and delight of fond parents and numerous
friends, the rose which early bloomed, daily fading in the brilliancy
of its colors, and drooping like the lily of the vale? To see the eye,
once so brilliant, sunken, heavy, and dull; and the lips, once so
ruby, now thin and pallid? To witness the being so beloved, so
cherished, the victim of slow, but unerring disease, not
constitutional, but brought on by neglect, by fashion? To see the
vision recede from the sight, step by step, until evening frowns upon
its setting glory, and the tomb closes upon it forever!