NRLF 77E LIBRARY OF TIII-; UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. O I F"T OR Received Accession No. Class No. ASi THE BUNTLING BALL A GR^ECO-AMERICAN PLAY BEING A POETICAL SATIRE ON NEW YORK SOCIETY ILLUSTRATIONS BY C. D. WELDON ; UNK & WAGNALLS NEW YORK 1884 LONDON 10 AND 12 DEY STREET 44 FLEET STREET A II Rights Reserved. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 18S4, by FUNK & WAGNALLS, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. PERSONS OF THE PLAY. Chorus of - ALONZO BUNTLING. ANASTASIA BUNTLING. JANE BUNTLING. LEANDER BRIGGS. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. THE BUTLER. Two GUESTS. A REPORTER. KNICKERBOCKER YOUNG MEN. MANEUVERING MAMMAS. SOCIAL STRUGGLERS. BELLES. WALL-FLOWERS. GOSSIPS. ANGLOMANIACS. GLUTTONS. MRS. BUNTLING. ANASTASIA BUNTLTNG, faithful spouse ] Of stout Alonzo, potentate in Pork, Westward return with lord and loving child Across Atlantic s many-sounding deep, Borne safe between the stanch Cunarder s ribs, Wave-furrowing, tempest-baffling, huge of bulk. 6 _ THE BUNTLING BALL. Long was our stay in European lands, And frequent were the marvels that we met, Whereof in ample text, with patient skill, Already the wise Baedeker hath told : Art-galleries, damp cathedrals, bad hotels, Innumerable ruins, mountains vast, Dishonest couriers and vivacious fleas. Things of great price we purchased as we roamed, Wrought by men famed with chisel or with brush- Rare statues, pictures, bronzes, good to range In sumptuous chambers when transpontine shores Would claim us ; but for me, my chief delight Was gathering varied garments, fold on fold Of beauteous texture, frilled and furbelowed In many a fantasy of sweet device ; The last fair whims of fashion s dainty mood, Expensive, hateful to my husband s purse. Nor me alone this fond pursuit engrossed, But also her, my daughter, still a maid, White-handed, marriageable, golden-tressed. So Jane and I together have brought home THE BUNTLING BALL. -v A precious quantity of splendid gear, Impervious to Alonzo s noisy wrath, Impervious to the tariff s tyrant fee, Impervious to the envy of sly foes, Impervious to all else but our own aims Of self-adornment and superior style. For she is pitiably low of soul Who values not the holy claims of dress, Nor worships at her mirror s polished shrine In attitudes of sacerdotal awe. I hold that woman most delectable Who walks in paths beloved of her modiste, Nor sins by wanton scorn of stay or flounce, The proper trail of skirt, fit set of sleeve. Nay, she alone hath heed of worthy ends, Pays vanity its lawful homage, lives A reverent votary of self-esteem, And dying passes with calm vogue to where After life s fitful fever she sleeps swell . . . But now the chandeliers are all ablaze, O ertwined with smilax, and the mantels bloom 8 THE BUN TUNG BALL. With balmy roses, rare, one dollar each, In this our grand Fifth Avenue abode, Leased for a twelvemonth. From Chicago we, Primarily, but here have paused awhile, To test the social pleasures of New York. What triumphs we shall win or what shall miss We know not, for the future none may read Of purblind men, and all fate s ways are dark. But look, my daughter comes, with six bouquets, Sent by herself, a shape superbly clad, Her lustrous little slipper gleaming neat Below her garb s pale miracle of taste, And over all her gold hair, coiled and curled In architectural complexity. JANE. Mamma, beloved with filial tenderness, Reveal if in my costume any flaw Offends thee ; for thy good opinion I cherish as dry leaves the slant fresh rain. THE BUNTLING BALL, 9 v MRS. BUNTLING,. Daughter, alike my comfort and my pride, Put faith in this frank thing I clothe with speech: Unflawed is thine attire, and thou, sweet child, Beamest a star of modish maidenhood. JANE. Most glad am I ; such words bring grateful peace : Lo, now, it is almost eleven o clock. Our invitations named the hour of nine, Which meant eleven ; the guests will soon arrive. MRS. BUNTLING. See, child, your honored father comes this way. Displeased he looks, as one who wears with pain Apparel irksome to rebellious limbs, Close-clinging pantaloon and tight dress-coat. MR. BUNTLING. Hear me, O Anastasia, headstrong wife, A web of snares about thine husband s feet. 10 THE BUNTLING BALL. So much this high stiff collar frets my neck, I do avow I will not wear it more. Ah, woe is me, that am so poor being rich ! MRS. BUNTLING. That man is poor who fears to spend his wealth. MR. BUNTLING. Hard is the task to squeeze good gold from Pork. MRS. BUNTLING. O word abominable ! Name it not ! MR. BUNTLING. Fain would I dine at noon and sup at six. MRS. BUNTLING. With such low tastes from Europe you return ? MR. BUNTLING. What s Europe but a nest of snobs and fools? THE BUNTLING BALL. II -v MRS. BUNTLIN G. Refrain from such mad phrase, lest thou be heard ! MR. BUNTLING. By whom ? By guests who know nor me nor thee ? MRS. BUNTLING. Soon shall I know them. Money rules New York. MR. BUNTLING. Nay, I have heard of Knickerbockers proud. MRS. BUNTLING. They once were proud ; now money is their god. MR. BUNTLING. Tis good to trace from Peter Stuyvesant. MRS. BUNTLING. Tis good to sup on terrapin and duck. MR. BUNTLING. They, too, have purses fat ; they will not come. U1TI7BESIT7 12 THE BUNT LING BALL. MRS. BUNTLING. I fear not this. Five millions are thy gain. MR. BUNTLING. The papers cried me down as upstart cad. MRS. BUNTLING. They did ; no more they do so ; I have paid. MR. BUNTLING. Bribe as thou wilt ; the Press will say its say. MRS. BUNTLING. The Press is bought ; all scribblers have their price. MR. BUNTLING. O subtly wise of women ! I succumb ! JANE. Mamma! Papa! Cease wrangling ! Lo, our guests! MR. BUNTLING. True, they are here. I fondly had supposed That they to Anastasia s bold " At Home " THE BUNTLING BALL. 13 V Would not respond. Yet greatly have I erred, For one by one and two by two they troop In through the portals of our drawing-room. They know not Anastasia, nor yet Jane, But spite of this they nimbly bow and smile. O proud New York, that wast New Amsterdam, How art thou fallen away from dignity ! Methinks thy Battery and thy Bowling Green Should split in angered earthquake at thy shame ! Thou, too, indignant Peter, shouldst arise, A shade with slim clay pipe and ligneous leg, To lay thy broad staff on the ungrateful heads Of these thy base descendants, them that love Gross pelf and pander to the parvenu ! For such am I, even such, and better far The laboring Scythia s westward-pointed prow Nor me nor mine had hither borne unscathed Through the strait Narrows ; but that either strand Had clashing met, and whelmed off Sandy Hook The great ship s vigor in tumultuous waves ! Thus were averted this unseemly Ball, 14 THE BUNTLING BALL. Its hollow and absurd extravagance Checked by the grim economy of death ! CHORUS OF KNICKERBOCKER YOUNG MEN. Old man, do not be nonsensical In your views about New York ; You are needlessly forensical For a potentate in Pork ! Why not recollect with gratitude That we throng your mansion wide, And express no moral platitude Upon Knickerbocker pride ? Since the days when dull old Trinity Was a temple far up town, And a girl was thought divinity If she owned but one silk gown ; Since the days when each festivity They would all by twelve forsake, And the dominant proclivity Was for lemonade-and-cake ; 1 6 THE BUNTLING BALL. Since the days when aristocracy Of the gender known as male, Would esteem it vain plutocracy To exploit a swallow-tail ; Since the days when custom s manacle Was a bond of rigid force, Since the days thus puritanical, We have altered things, of course. For the years are cruel pillagers, As they lay old fashions low, And to live like simple villagers Is no longer comme il fau t. Our progenitors (peace be with them !) Were a very stupid lot, And so little we agree with them That we imitate them not. They were certainly respectable, As with pride we now declare, But we find it more delectable If we draw the line just there. For to fling aside all flattery, THE BUNTLING BALL. v And to speak as hits the mark, They were narrow as the Battery When compared with Central Park. And if now they had their say to us, They would turn us all, we fear, Into office-clerks, and pay to us Hardly anything a year. As a crowded public gallery To a soft orchestral chair, Is the youth with slender salary To the dandy debonair. We delight in glossy carriages, We delight in garments new ; We delight in wealthy marriages, Though the bride s blood be not blue. We enjoy the fumes and essences Of cigars whose brands excel ; We adore the effervescences That in brandy-and-soda dwell. We abominate proximity To the rules that fret and irk ; 1 8 THE BUNTLING BALL. We detest with unanimity Any earthly kind of work. And the only bonds endurable To the class we represent, Are the sort of bonds procurable At from five to eight per cent. MR. BUNTLING. What men are these that so alertly tell Their follies over, like monastic beads? Expansive spread the bosoms of their shirts, Each one a faultless oval, studded bright With gems of price, while snowy at their throats, Below the collar s high pale palisade, Nestles the formal tie of virgin lawn ; Yet these, I deem, are not the sturdy race Our bold Republic meant to bear for sons. MRS. BUNTLING. I pray, Alonzo, you will circulate Freely among our guests, nor stand aloof THE BUNTLING BALL. 19 Muttering moralities that ill consort With festal hours, and mock their merry lapse. MR. BUNTLING. Nay, Anastasia, these are not my guests. Even as a cat in a strange garret, I ! Even as a fish that leaves his liquid realm ! Already thrice my heated countenance With handkerchief have I perspiring mopped. MRS. BUNTLING. Mop thou not thus again. Tis execrable. MR. BUNTLING. The crowded floors grow hot. Me wretchedly My tight habiliments annoy. With dread I move each arm lest I should crack a seam. Ah ! would that I were standing, free of limb, In some salubrious bar-room of Broadway, With amber Bourbon at my elbow placed, And jovial company on either hand, The men I love, rare comrades brisk at tales, 20 THE BUNTLING BALL. Themselves as I self-made and proud of this, Plebeian, frank, commercial, hating shams, Nor quite indifferent to the price of pork ! FIRST GUEST. What think you thus far of the Buntling Ball ? SECOND GUEST. I like it not. I would we had not come. FIRST GUEST. Nay, wife, thou art too ready to condemn. SECOND GUEST. Nay, husband, it is infamously mixed. True, there are people here whom I have seen At most select assemblages of old. But thou and I should be particular, Nor tempt the wayward Fates by reckless deeds. Still are we on the threshold, as you know, Of good society ; though thy name has grown A tower and watchword of Monopoly, THE BUNTLING BALL. 21 v Thy millions have provoked important gibes From that loud sheet, The Morning Slanderer, Thus aiding thee and me to reign erewhile As haughty leaders. Peradventure, too, When Spring s first shy bud breaks, thou shalt become A member of the sacred Union Club, By no stern black-ball contravened, for there Monopolists are loved, and willing doors On easy hinges to their advent swing. But we have erred in coming to this Ball, Since our position still is perilous. . . . Let us get hence ; the revel yet is young. MR. BUNTLING. " Let us get hence "... what word was that I caught ? Ah me ! if I should slip on stealthy foot Out at mine own door, and so gain the sweet Municipal starlight, and with glad gait seek That bright hotel they name the Hoffman House! There could I brace my sinking courage well 22 THE BUNTLING BALL. With one big genial draught, and thence return Ere Anastasia guessed . . . Fate wills ; I go ! MRS. BUNTLING. What man is here, scarce clad in seemly garb, Soliciting my heed with sidelong look ? A REPORTER. Lady, thy lowly servitor am I, Reporter on the Morning Slanderer. My manuscript is here. Wouldst read and give Approval ere it speeds to public print? MRS. BUNTLING. Tis well. Draw closer back, below the spray Of this green- shadowing cactus near the arch. Now reach thy hand, and let my rapid gaze Devour what thou hast writ . . . Ah, well indeed Thou hast earned thy wage, good henchman of the Press ! I like thy florid language, and I like Thine accurate description of my robe. THE BUNTLING BALL. "The Buntling Ball a wonderful success . . ." " New York s elite all gathered in great throng To welcome home a brilliant social queen . . ." 24 THE BUNTLING BALL. " Miss Jane, the only daughter, dressed in blue, With pearls and sapphires on her creamy neck . . . " Then, too, the stately flawless-mannered host, Mr. Alonzo Buntling, with a smile Of salutation exquisite for all ..." Ah, thou hast admirably done ! Enough ; Seek, ere thou goest, the butler; him command To give thee of thy fill in Pommery Sec And whatsoever viand thy palate craves. Eat, drink ; it is thy rightful meed. Farewell. REPORTER. Lady, I thank thee. Journalism bows To Opulence and Beauty. MRS. BUNTLING. Thank me, sir, No thanks, but quaff and feast with happy heart ; And may the awful future hold for thee An editorial chair. THE BUN TUNG BALL. 25 REPORTER. O ecstasy ! Deep in my breast henceforth I wear that hope. MRS. BUNTLING. So wear it. None may truly prophesy. Men are but sportive drift on seas of chance. CHORUS OF MANEUVERING MAMMAS. With subtle scheming Our brains are teeming; No idle dreaming Our bosoms know. Observers wily We notice slyly, And value highly The moneyed beau. 26 THE B UNTLING BALL. They blame us greatly, And say sedately The matron stately Should caste revere ; But we, hard-fated, Are actuated To have well-mated Our daughters dear. Far less than falter, We may not alter Nor yet would palter With precepts dread. If girls must marry Tom, Dick, or Harry, Why need they tarry Till youth has fled ? Tis clearly better T6 clinch the fetter By word or letter, By speech or pen ; ..... THE BUNTLING BALL. 27 And so, most wary, We mark how vary For Maud or Mary The moods of men. With magic potion The shy emotion Of their devotion We cannot sway ; By means more slender We strive to render The trifler tender A fiance. The art Circean Is now plebeian, The spell Medean Has lost its vogue ; But smiling sweetly And planning neatly, We trap completely The careful rogue. 2 8 THE BUNTLING BALL. Before he guesses That fond addresses And light caresses May vows evoke, Without a blunder, As lawful plunder, We push him under The marriage-yoke. Our tricks to mention Of tact, invention, We ve no intention Nor any wish ; But quite demurely And most securely (Believe it surely) We land our fish ! JANE. How bitter sounds their frigid worldliness! Steel struck on ice gives not a harsher note. THE BUNTLING BALL. 29 I loathe it all, yet she, my mother, trusts Entirely in my fealty to herself. Hypocrisy unspeakable is mine; I act a part, and am not what I seem. These six bouquets, sent by myself, are borne As mask and sham, concealing my true will. For I desire no vain supremacy In ranks of fashion, but my soul has bowed In reverent homage to Leander Briggs. Obscure is my Leander ; we have met But thrice ; he is a dry-goods clerk, Yet his pure, lofty soul towers high above The gross necessities of dry-goods ; he Is nobly eminent, a man of men. Would he were here to-night ! . . I dream his eyes Now gaze upon me in regretful scorn. LEANDER BRIGGS. Jane, loveliest of all womankind ! I dare To greet thee ; I am insolently here ! 3 THE BUNTLING BALL. JANE. Here ! Thou, Leander ? Thou art here to-night ? LEANDER. I am. JANE. By invitation ? LEANDER. Nay, without. JANE. What means this unsurpassed audacity ? LEANDER. Nay, hearken ere thou blame. Since that sweet hour When thou didst purchase two yards of pink silk Of Meares and Company, a fierce wild flame Seems burning this poor heart of mine to ash. No more for me my boarding-house allures . THE BUNTLING BALL. 31 When the long dining-table buzzes high With social chat and gossip thrives elate. No more to me the obdurate beefsteak Nor yet the sinewy chop seem tender viands, For healthful appetite has fled my life, And ills that were not ills now monstrous loom. Never again the unpalatable bread, The inferior butter, the imporous tart, The gravy turned conglomerate, nor the soup O erfilmed with lucid grease, can satisfy. Always henceforth I yearn toward better things. The huge emporium, with its clamors coarse, Its mercantile vulgarity, its yells Of "cash," its haggling customers, its air Of sordid discipline, repels and shocks. The " Rosebud Sociable," where once a week I danced with jovial friends of either sex In unaristocratic jollity, Has lost all charm; the gay Church Festival, With tableaux and innocuous claret-punch, Fails likewise to allure. Thy face, thine eyes, 32 THE BU N T LING BALL. Thy presence, haunt me with distracting force. And therefore I am here. O pity me ! JANE. That morn, when I made purchase of pink silk Of Meares and Company, I will avow, Was bright with new and strange experience. LEANDER. Again didst thou appear. Again pink silk I measured for thee with unsteady hand. JANE. True. And once more we met ! Twas Friday last. LEANDER. Thou dost recall the day ? O happiness ! day most memorable ! O Broadway car, Wherein we met ! O fateful interview ! JANE. 1 learned thy name, and answered with mine own. THE BUNTLING BALL. 33 LEANDER. We left the car. We strolled in quiet streets, Enthralled by dreamy converse, each with each. JANE. Twas terribly imprudent. I repent Mine act. I told thee all. No detail did I spare. I told thee of my proud and cold mamma ; I told thee of my democratic sire ; I told thee of the future Buntling Ball. LEANDER. Thou didst. And eagerly I listened, too ; And passionately I responded, soon; And ere we parted I had made resolve To win thee as my bride, and sworn my love. JANE. We cannot wed. Thine act is desperate In coming hither. If mamma should dream What man thou really art, her wrath would fall Alike on me and thee with fearful weight. 34 THE BUNTLING BALL. She wills that I shall wed some haughtier name, Some man with old Dutch blood, though lean of purse. Yea, she would stare on thee with ireful eyes, To know thee as a guest unbidden of her, And straightway she would give austere commands For thine ejection : wherefore, tarry not, But go at once, nor even delay to taste The succulent oyster and the bronze-brown quail. LEANDER. Quail me no quails, O thou supremely loved! Nay, oyster me no oysters, cruel heart ! I have braved for thee expulsion s biting shame, And bitter indeed this welcome that I get. Is love so weak in thy chill maiden breast That fear can slay it thus, nor lightly let One meagre smile pass faintlier o er thy lips Than silvery gleams of sky in bleak sere lands ? Hast thou no boon, no little tender boon, That I departing may depart withal ? THE BUNTLING BALL. 35 No timorous palpitance of moistened lid, No transitory touch of palm to palm, No last brief look of love immeasurable, Blossoming between thine eyelids and thine eyes ? JANE. Whence hast thou caught such warm-hued trick of speech ? Thine eloquence is like the bloomful chintz That florid, sanguine, gorgeous, hangs for sale Above thy counter at the Meares bazaar. LEANDER. Let me go hence. I think I shall not live A great while, now. When thou shalt hear the news That I am dead at Number Twenty-Blank West Thirty-Seventh Street, front room, third floor, I pray of you to bear it well in mind That I particularly do request No flowers be sent. Such act were mockery. 36 THE BUNTLING BALL. JANE. Nay, not if black death veil thine eyes in truth. LEANDER. Flowers are for those who leave sweet memories. JANE. Thy memory would bide sweet if I still lived. LEANDER. Live shalt thou, for no grief would make thee die. JANE. Great grief would melt my heart. Of this thou art sure. LEANDER. Sure am I not. Thou speakest weightless words. JANE. As an ice-cream on a warm plate am I. LEANDER. Thou meanest that thy spirit bids me stay ? THE BUNTLING BALL. 37 JANE. I neither bid thee stay nor bid thee go. LEANDER. Wrapped is thy meaning in obscure retorts. JANE. Have care ; mamma approaches ; thou art seen. LEANDER. Seen am I ? Yet being seen I shall not heed. JANE. Not heeding thou shalt do most grievous things. LEANDER. So shall I then not heed, imploring thee To fly with me this very night and seek A clergyman, who straight will make us one. JANE. Mamma draws near. What folly hast thou said ? 3^ THE BUNTLING BALL. LEANDER. I have said no folly. Dost thou deem it such ? JANE. Should I do this mad thing, I must get wraps. LEANDER. Sealskin and wool thou verily must get. JANE. Get them I would if courage failed me not. Yet hark ! What mean those voices loudly raised ? CHORUS OF SOCIAL STRUGGLERS. In the dim beginning of years, In the dumb blind yearning of earth, There were Saurian shapes, it appears, Of huge and exorbitant girth. These invertebrates, awful to view, Were by no means a matter for scoff, While our planet, as yet rather new, Geologically cooled off. THE BUNTLING BALL. 39 But still, as they wallowed in slime And on mammoths inferior fared, With man, the last product of time, They are not to be classed or compared. And yet it would wake no amaze , To discover that creatures like these Were divided in various ways By preadamite social degrees. For if man is the product obscure Of the ages before he began, Very likely such monsters impure Bore a certain resemblance to man. And if this be the case, we might deem That the sole similarity lay In an antediluvian scheme Of an organized haute volee. For since the least animal life This terrestrial globe brought to view, The doctrine of rank has been rife, And the code " I am better than you." 40 THE BUN TUNG BALL. Twas in Egypt, four thousand years past, Very much as to-day it is seen ; No democracy yet has killed caste, No rebellion, and no guillotine. And therefore in choric accord Confessing our effort and pain, We think we can safely afford To state how we struggle and strain. We have pushed, we have elbowed with might ; We have scrambled and striven with zeal ; There is no sort of possible slight We ve allowed ourselves really to feel. We have entered at doors where we knew That our presence unwelcome would pass, Yet have dauntlessly carried things through By a solid assumption of brass. We have witnessed from hostess or host The cruelest scorn they could show, But have never permitted, at most, An idea that we might be de trop. THE BUNTLING BALL. 41 We are snubbed, yet we never much mind ; Affronts we accept, bold or sly ; We are constantly seeking to find A patron or patroness high. You may frown ; we responsively cringe : You may hate; we will merely repine. On our self-respect you may impinge, But though sad we will ask you to dine. If you wound us, perchance we may bleed, Yet the blood is clandestinely shed ; We desire that our sons may succeed ; We desire that our daughters may wed. We desire that our husbands and wives May be pushed along, high and still higher ; We are all, through our feverish lives, In perpetual state of desire. We are certain the realms that we seek An insipid frivolity rules, And at least seven times every week We remind ourselves that we are fools. 42 THE BUNTLING BALL. But in spite of such wholesome disdain, With a fervor twere false to deny, We incessantly struggle and strain, We shall struggle and strain till we die. MRS. BUNTLING. As a bow that is bent, Are determined their deeds ; As a shaft that is sent, So their energy speeds, And the might of their snobbery riots as a tangled and poisonous weed s. SEMICHORUS OF SOCIAL STRUGGLERS. As the famishing lip When it yearns after food, As the homeward-bound ship When by tempest pursued, So beyond Aristocracy s portals we daringly long to intrude. ir IV I MRS. BUNTLING. They are guilty of guile, They are reckless of ruth ; For deception and wile They abandon all truth ; They are clad with impervious cuticle, rhinoceroses forsooth ! SEMICHORUS. At the verge of a shrine, At a goddess s feet, 44 THE BUNTLING BALL. Our brows we incline And in worship compete, As we bring to the idol our tributes, our offerings many and sweet. MRS. BUNTLING. She is cold, she is calm, This goddess ye name ; From your suppliant palm Great gifts will she claim ; Ye must serve her with dinners and banquets, with wines of pre-eminent fame. SEMICHORUS. The aromas that rise From her altar must tell Of those dainty supplies The bon vivant loves well, Out of kitchens Delmoniconian, where the poets of cookery dwell. THE BUNTLING BALL. 45 MRS. BUNTLING. To her priests ye shall bear Half the incomes ye hold, To her priestesses fair Floral treasures untold, Yea, the Jacqueminot red as your heart s-blood, the Marshal Niel hued like your gold. SEMICHORUS. These boons we have brought, And will bring them again, Till the heed we have sought We shall proudly attain, As reward for the canvas-back roasted, the libation of costly champagne. MRS. BUNTLING. If my loyalty swerves, Make it stanch, I adjure . . . To the rich man who serves Will his guerdon be sure, 46 THE BUNTLING BALL. Though he sternly has trampled on pity, though his heart no humanity lure ? SEMICHORUS. Such a man for his prize, As we haste to declare, In the goddess s eyes Holy merit shall wear . . . Though a millionaire cry " Damn the people," tis condoned if he be millionaire. MRS. BUNTLING. After heart-break and sigh From December till May, After much humble-pie Swallowed every day, Does it pay to have striven and conquered ? O ye that yet strive, does it pay ? SEMICHORUS. We can give you aright Neither praise nor dispraise THE BUNTLING BALL. 47 Of the goal whose delight Still recedes from our gaze; Yet with confident spirit, O lady, we respond that we do think it pays. MRS. BUNTLING. When all has been done, When no more is to do, What has truly been won ? What shall truly accrue ? O respond, is it worth having aimed at, or all cock- adoodledoo ? SEMICHORUS. From reports we have heard We can answer you thus : It has all been averred A preposterous fuss, Where the mountain is constantly groaning, to bear the ridiculus mus. 48 THE BUNTLING BALL. MRS. BUNTLING. Then why do ye yearn Without pause or surcease, Like to captives that burn For benignant release ? Or is it a mere monomania, a bedlamish kind of caprice ? SEMICHORUS. O lady, our craze Is absurd, we admit, By a singular phase Of dementia hit ; But to state the mere fact of our lunacy, alas, will not help it a bit. MRS. BUNTLING. Are not they the most blest Whose affections incline To the home as a nest Where all comforts entwine ? THE BUNTLING BALL. 49 To the kiss matrimonial at six, and the slippers made ready at nine ? SEMICHORUS. Nay, the goddess ordains, Lest ye shrink from her strife, That each votary gains Her abhorrence through life, If the wife pay regard to her husband, or the hus band show love for his wife. MRS. BUNTLING. Must a husband be cold ? Must a wife seem untrue? What ye calmly unfold As the course to pursue, Is excessively wrong and improper, regarded from my point of view. SEMICHORUS. Forbear thus to rail ; Forbear thus to storm. 50 THE BUNTLING BALL. The female and male, Though their wedlock be warm, Must meet as acquaintances merely, since more is considered bad form. MRS. BUNTLING. But may not such plan Bring calamitous hurt ? May a full-wedded man With a wedded wife flirt ? Does New York aristocracy boldly all moral exam ples desert ? SEMICHORUS. Propriety awes, Beyond question or doubt, And her obdurate laws It is folly to flout ; Yet recall the Eleventh Commandment, which runs, "Thou shalt not be found out." THE BUN TUNG BALL. 51 MRS. BUNTLING. I am shocked, I am dazed By the words you employ; All my soul is amazed That you jestingly toy With principles cherished from childhood, as talis man, safeguard and joy. SEMICHORUS. They that foothold would seek Past the great social dam, Must consent to be meek As an innocent lamb; They must bow their heads tamely, devoutly, in humble submission to sham. MRS. BUNTLING. Is there nothing sincere In the creeds you adore ? Are the aims you revere Utter fraud and no more ? 52 THE BUNTLING BALL. If you care to be natural, honest, are you voted at once as a bore ? SEMICHORUS. In the big masquerade Of pretension and pelf, You are sure to be laid Very soon on the shelf, If you have the audacious candor to appear repre senting Yourself. MRS. BUNTLING. So be it, if so inflexibly it is. Who shall put bridle in the teeth of Fate? Who shall control Society s dread laws ? Nay, ye that struggle with such ardent stress, I am touched by pity of your eager needs. And yet take courage ; banish dark despair ; Are ye not here at this the Buntling Ball ? Tis true the assemblage is not quite select, Being large beyond the common festal scope. THE BUNTLING BALL. 53 Still, I have found ye on trustworthy lists, Obtained from Jones, the managerial one, Who served as clerk of the dead sexton, Brown. Poor Brown (peace rest him !) knew with search ing ken The grades of difference in all families Whose carriages for half a century He had called at weddings, funerals, and balls. Now Jones succeeds him, honest, capable, No man of bluster and obesity, As thus I am told his predecessor, Brown, Completely was ; but he has given me all The names considered of decisive note ; And therefore ye were hospitably asked By me, not knowing if ye were high or low, To swell this gorgeous throng; but subtle time, Whose face is old yet whose deceits are young, May land ye safe on heights of proud success, If patiently ye push as heretofore. Push with good hope and fear not ; ye shall win The calm delectable summit ere ye guess. 54 THE BUNTLING BALL. And as for sham, if sham be god, bow low In reverential homage unto sham. Frank speech is well and lying tongues are ill, If ordinary cares engross the thought. But now extraordinary indeed is this, The attempted altitude of fine prestige Ye fain would climb, to dwell on its far slopes, In unassailable serenity, Deaf to the cries of them that fare below. Once, as ye will recall, ye cried like them, And no one heeded ; those to ye were deaf As ye to these one day shall also prove. Then shall your hour of conquest dawn and smile Then shall ye tingle with untold content, Remembering that through honest vassalage To fraud, servility, hypocrisy, Ye gained the haughty hold ye then shall claim. Speed ye, poor stragglers, rich yet sadly poor, In this your firm unflinching enterprise. For I am with ye, I am one of ye, Even I, who also would attain your goal THE BUNTLING BALL. 55 And reign among the socially elect. Bitter yet brief should be the contest waged ; Nor I nor mine shall falter; Jane, my child, Will aid me, heiress to colossal wealth. For Jane is loyal, and most filial, too ; Whom I would will to have her wed she straight Will acquiesce in meekly wedding; thus New power will come from her alliance proud, For proud it shall be past all dream of doubt. SEMICHORUS. Where is your Jane ? Why has she fled from us ? Jane, we maintain, Hides her sweet head from us. Does she dislike us ? has she a fear of us ? People will sometimes, as soon as they hear of us, Turn with a sort of an ominous dread from us. Jane, we explain, Thinking us vain, Thinking us vapid and selfish and frivolous, 5 6 THE BUNTLING BALL. Jane, it is plain, With her disdain Doubtless would mortify, wither and shrivel us, MRS. BUNTLING. You err in dreaming that my daughter seeks To avoid you. Every guest in her regard Is equal. She has marked no difference In social grades; that knowledge will result Later, when suitors throng with rivalries Of adulation and their various claims As eligible bachelors beam out Clear, like the larger stars in twilight heavens. Experience also of your womankind Will soon enlighten both herself and me Regarding whom to flatter, whom to hold At decorous distance, whom to snub outright. But now her snobbery, like a lily s bud, Sheathed in green ignorance, is immature, Indefinite, undetermined. Credit me, Her absence means but some stray accident, THE BUNTLING BALL. 57 Perchance a mutinous ambuscaded pin, Perchance the abrupt keen twinge of tight-shod foot. SEMICHORUS. Jane, as we learn, Is not absent at all. Her we discern Just at hand, within call. There from the alcove s obscurity Glimmers her maidenly purity, While, amid fancied security, Held in agreeable thrall. Who is the gentleman near to her ? Is he a personage dear to her ? Is he a gallant Of fortune and talent, Reviving some old souvenir to her? Surely a delicate mystery Shrouds their acquaintance s history. Where did they meet the last time ? 58 THE BUNTLING BALL. Was it in pain or in pastime ? Why does he press with such eagerness Her hand in its glove-encased meagreness? Why are her soft eyelids fluttering ? Why do the pink blushes warm her so ? What is he tenderly uttering ? Is he insane With a passion for Jane, And does he at present inform her so ? JANE. Forbear, Leander. Look, we are observed. Your eloquence is awful in its force; Never since earliest girlhood have I known Such power of human speech. They took me, once, To a great wood in some suburban place Not far from famed Chicago. There I heard A preacher at camp-meeting. He was black, But oh, the fervor of his rhetoric Dwells in my memory still . . . He spoke like you, Though less grammatically, I admit. THE BUNTLING BALL. 59 LEANDER. And you will fly? Oh, love irresolute, Why hang my soul on indecision s thread, That perilous film-like bridge o er dark despair, Slung between Yes and No at either side ? JANE. Now half consenting, Anon refusing, Yet always thrilling, In doubt I stay. LEANDER. At last relenting, My counsel choosing, O maid unwilling, Decide, I pray ! JANE. The days romantic Have passed forever ; 60 THE BUNTLING BALL. Eloping mortals Are not the mode. LEANDER. When love is frantic It enters ever The church s portals By any road. JANE. I like a marriage With music pealing, With flowers bridal, With veil and cake. LEANDER. You so disparage My ardent feeling That suicidal Intentions wake. THE BUNTLING BALL. 61 JANE. I like a wedding With bridemaids merry, With gay collection Of guests urbane. LEANDER. Your words are shedding, O Jane, a very Severe dejection O er heart and brain. JANE. I hate to marry (Forgive my candor) With no surrounding Of nice expense. LEANDER. Your statements carry To your Leander 62 THE BUNTLING BALL. Alarm astounding And pain intense. JANE. Girls will be girls, Leander. We are made In different wise from ye, and cannot help Desire for nuptial pomp when we are wed. No day in all a girl s life equals one Her wedding-day. And yet, I will be brave. If strategy can aid me to steal forth, Following your supplications, I will go. LEANDER. Dear acquiescent Jane ! And yet I trace Reluctant resignation in your phrase. JANE. Farewell the great church-organ s mellow boom ; Farewell the long train shimmering up the aisle ; Farewell the point-lace drapery richly hung Down o er the neck bediamonded bright ; Farewell the attendant maidens, the bouquets, THE BUNTLING BALL. 63 The subsequent reception farewell all ! Well do I fare, perchance, in thy true love, Since brides that have no love like thine fare ill. Yet sweet it were to wed thee not by stealth, But openly, engirt with joyful guests, And feel, departing in my travelling-robe, A storm of slippers pelt the carriage-roof. LEANDER. Still thou wilt go, heeding thy promise given. JANE. Yes, I will go, if subtlest guile can serve. LEANDER. Your mother sets her glance upon my face. JANE. Retire, nor fail in speed, though let thy mien Betray no fugitive intent or aim. MRS. BUNTLING. Daughter, what gentleman was he who ceased A moment since from converse with thyself ? 64 THE BUN TUNG BALL. JANE. Nay, how should I know rightly, dear mamma ? He named his name, yet memory loses it. MRS. BUNTLING. His air and costume lacked patrician grace. JANE. I thought not thus. He seemed the same as they Who smile bland smiles on every side of us, Though possibly the parting of his hair Had less of mathematic symmetry; Perchance his boots were of less dazzling gloss. MRS. BUNTLING. I thought he wore white satin at his throat, Above a shirt with rich embroidery Densely encrusted. If this thing be true, I doubt his right to rank among my guests, And fancy him a shrewd impostor, come Hither audaciously without a card. THE ^ UN T LING BALL. 65 JANE. Such fancy were injustice, oh, be sure. MRS. BUNTLING. He did not bear the same sleek dapper mien As yonder gentleman, whose name I know, Florimel Filigree, a personage Who is assumably professional, Like our musicians and our caterers. For I have learned that he is wont to lead The German at festivities like these. JANE. Yet therefore not professional, perhaps. Beware, mamma, lest thou shouldst rashly err. MRS. BUNTLING. Nay, wherefore should the leader of one s band Be paid, the leader of one s German not ? Daughter, thy knowledge of society Here in New York is vaguer than my own, 66 THE BUNTLING BALL. Though mine, I will accede, is yet obscure. Forbear to urge false views, and credit mine, Since none of stouter verity hast thou. JANE. (Would I could slip with steps unnoted hence, Gain my own chamber, covertly change dress, And after join Leander where he waits. The chance arrives . . . Mamma becomes absorbed In amiable talk with him she named Florimel Filigree . . . I disappear.) MRS. BUNTLING. Sir, if I recollect aright, you are The person recommended to conduct My German, at the hour of one o clock. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. The person- recommended ! Madam, I A person recommended to conduct Your German ! Do my ears play tricks with me? THE BUNTLING BALL. 67 CHORUS OF BELLES. Come with bright boots and with loveliest of collars, Leader most perfect, dancer divine, With the sense of an income of many dollars, With a hand white as milk, with an instep fine ; Bind on thy best pumps, O thou most fleet, Over thy Terpsichorean feet, For the sayings of sages, the seekings of scholars, Are futile against fascinations like thine. How may we charm thee, how may we chat to thee, Bow at thy bidding and fealty swear ? Be more beloved than thy cane or thy hat to thee, Proudlier prized than thy best boutonniere ? For the waltzings of others are unto thine As the worms that glint to the stars that shine; And expressing this tender trifle or that to thee Is worth all the wisdom the ages wear. For winter s winnings are not yet over, Nor all that the season of snow secures ; 68 THE BUNTLING BALL. The dinners attracting lover to lover, The balls alive with flirtation s lures ; And your speeches more soft than flocculent cotton, Whenever delivered are unforgotten, And notwithstanding the guile they cover, Sentence by sentence their spell endures. The glad belle feeds, while her smooth cheek flushes, On language hinting thine ardent suit ; The pure faint flame of her being flushes From foot to brow and from brow to foot ; And brow and foot are as one sweet fire, And her heart is filled with a fond desire, While girt of thine arm she gayly rushes Over ball-room floors to bassoon and flute. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Maidens, what do ye singing? Wherefore sing Thus jocundly in praise of my poor self? 7 THE BUNTLING BALL. CHORUS OF BELLES. Raiment of praise we bring to thee, Worthy to mantle and cling to thee, Songs we uplift As thy merited gift. And rejoice while we loyally sing to thee. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Nay, maidens, though blind fate has wrought me thus, With hyacinthine locks on stainless brow; Though tailoring adroit has helped my shape To show its utmost manly majesties, Why therefore should ye rather seek my note Than that of others, wealthier if less fair ? CHORUS OF BELLES. We cannot assert we would deign for thee Such choice as we now entertain for thee, If thine income were less Than we venture to guess Its absolute annual gain for thee. THE B UN T LING BALL. 71 FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Ye like me then for nothing save my store Of miserable lucre ! Woe is me ! CHORUS OF BELLES. Not for this do we like thee exclusively, Though pelf we regard not illusively ; Our opinion exalts Thy superb way to waltz, While we grant that we laud it effusively. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Maidens, I thank ye. Sweet your tones of cheer After gross insult given a moment since. CHORUS OF BELLES. Not a maiden who hears thee but will agree Yea, if scorned in the past, but will still agree That as leader supreme Of the German s quaint scheme She acknowledges Florimel Filigree. 72 THE BUNTLINC BALL. Among fops full of impudent vanity Thou shinest for sense and urbanity, And if any one states That our praise overrates, We denounce his dissent as insanity. Oh, the manners of fashion are quackery, And its morals mere frail bric-a-brac-erie ; And the modern young beau, As the best of us know, Should be scorched by a Dickens or Thackeray. But in thee we find no superfluity Of empty conceit and fatuity ; In thee doth abide Solid merit outside Of thy large and attractive annuity. Yea, thou art deserving of benison As the ball-room s most elegant denizen ; THE BUNTLING BALL. 73 In honor we hold Thy moustache of spun gold, Which would shame not a stanza by Tennyson. No prince of the blood in days far-agone, No Duke of Lorraine or of Arragon, Could boast, we declare, A more exquisite air Than our darling, our pet, and our paragon. More supple than willow or hickory When trained by the bow-bearer s trickery, Thy feet can explore The expanse of the floor In a style that would startle Terpsichore. Each maiden is fondly insatiate Herself in thy heart to ingratiate, And all of our clique Could continue a week On thy personal charms to expatiate. 74 THE BUNTLING BALL. CHORUS OF WALL-FLOWERS. Cease, O girls, your daring song, Full of adulation mad For the nimble-footed lad Whom your fulsome praises wrong. Gazing on your dainty throng, Well we mark you sneer and pout ; Well we know ye scorn and flout Them that now severely chide. Much, ye deem, our eyes would see In the form of Filigree, If twere not our doom to mope Far from his approving glance, Everlastingly denied Any little spark of hope That his feet will pause beside Us whom no one asks to dance. Rightly have ye judged perchance; Yet the lonely wall-flowers brood, In their sad neglected state Of perpetual solitude ; 76 THE BUNTLING BALL. Oft they muse and cogitate On the conduct bold and rude Of the belles more fortunate. Oft they make their murmur low At your sentiments imbued With such artificial glow. Ah, we lonely wall-flowers guess All your schemes, astute and shrewd, All the deep, deceptive wiles, All the Machiavellian smiles That accomplish your success, Leaning limp against the wall, With no gardener at all To relieve our irksome lot. Fain our tendrils would incline With dependence feminine Toward some stout supporting bole ; Yet we may secure it not, And the yearning must control Of each disappointed soul. Never may the wall-flower tell, UIUVIRSITT; THE BUNTLING BALL. 77 Though she ponder many hours, Just by what peculiar spell She is unlike other flowers; Never may she learn the whence Of such doleful difference. Though she strive with all her powers, Never may she be a belle ! This alone she understands, While the seasons run their sands, And the dread more darkly lowers Of a spinster s hated name. Surely tis not odious looks, Mottled skin or arms that flame, Clumsy waist or shapeless hands, Eyes that squint or nose that crooks, Nor a neck whose outline owns To the unsymmetric sframe Of conspicuous collar-bones. Why we ever fail to please, Why we pine in lone distress, Why we languish partnerless, 7 8 THE BUNTLING BALL, Is from no defects like these. Yet we grant we cannot seize Those resources of finesse Which our bolder sisters use ; We admit we cannot flirt, Ogle, simper, and employ Half a hundred modes alert To bewilder and amuse, To entangle and decoy. Then, moreover, we enjoy No excess of worldly gain : Were we heiresses, indeed, All anxiety and pain Would depart from us with speed. For the heiress may be plain As late autumn s rusty weed, May be florid, freckled, spare, Awkward, bouncing, shambling, staid, Huge of bulk and harsh of voice, Yet the instances are rare Of her dying an old maid, THE BUNTLING BALL. 79 Save she does so out of choice. Haunting balls where she is thought An encumbrance at the best, Thither mercilessly brought By mammas who never rest From their lectures when at home, It may be that in her breast Loftier longings find a place, That she judges light as foam All which idly happens here, And has no desire to face An assemblage of such mere Meretricious atmosphere. It may be that in her brain Great ideas have taken root, From the circles which contain Modern thinkers of repute ; It may be that she would fain Calmly, diligently list Unto themes which more invite Than to canter, night by night, 8o THE BUNTLING BALL. Through the German s twirl and twist, With a spry fop at her wrist ; It may be that she is quite Wed to Matthew Arnold s views, Loving Sweetness, loving Light ; It may happen that the gist Of her close research pursues Herbert Spencer screed of doubt, While she serves as his devout Fellow-evolutionist. Or perchance, with aim more mild, On aesthetic fancies bent, She an earnest ear has lent To the words of Oscar Wilde, And would paint the undefiled Lily on a velvet ground, Or the sunflower represent In rich needlecraft profound. Or she may have spared no stern Industry to probe and scan All the doctrines which concern THE BUNTLING BALL. 8 1 Woman as the peer of Man. Yet, whatever plea or plan That the wall -flower may confess With effusive eagerness For employments far aloof From the shallow pomp she meets, Redolent of stale deceits, Always coldly, ne ertheless, Every intellectual proof Thus exhibited receives Her mamma s complete rebuff. O the hapless wall-flower grieves At parental treatment rough, Told more times than she can count (As if once were not enough), That she lets her chance slip by, That she seems a wretched guy, That the generous amount Spent upon her brave attire Should excite her to apply Stout ambition s force and fire, 82 THE BUNTLTNG BALL. And be wedded ere she fades, Ere she ranks with ancient maids. Thus mammas will bid aspire, Thus they rouse the wall-flower s ire, Thus they goad and taunt till she Desperately yearns to be Mated, howsoe er amiss, With some vapid spouse like this Flippant Florimel Filigree. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. I hear ye, plaintive girls, yet heed ye not. A keener pain has dealt me deeper wounds Than all your querulous clamors may bestow. For, look ye, of stainless name, unflawed repute, I have been held until this fatal hour. In sovereign isolation did I reign Over all envious competitors. My necktie was an edict, and my coat A proclamation ; my new-purchased cane Struck jealousy to countless burning hearts. THE BUNTLING BALL. 83 My smile was canonizing in its gleam, And made a sacred belle of her it cheered. Ye wall-flowers could not reach its precious light, But dwelt in shadow of its chill recoil, Wherefore ye scowled and grumbled in your spleen. I was till now the blameless arbiter Of fashion, style, decorum and prestige. But lo, I am insulted, put to shame, Miscalled in terribly calumnious way A person recommended to conduct The German at this vulgar Buntling Ball. Ah, woe is me that am ignobly classed With caterers, musicians, florists, men Who toil for pay with gross plebeian souls. Why did I fling the splendor of my fame Thus broadcast on barbaric boorishness ? I should have held myself at rarer worth ; . I should have recollected I was L Now never any more in future time It shall be as it was with Filigree. #4 THE BUNTL1NG BALL, Already do I hear the cruel tale Bandied from lip to lip of how I met Impertinence abominable, thrust At my respectability supreme. CHORUS OF GOSSIPS. Yea, Filigree, thou shalt in sooth receive No mercy at our hands. Thou knowest, and none knows better, we believe, The mission that we bear, the tasks we achieve, In all societies throughout all lands. But oft we fancy that our tongues wear fork "Deadlier and keener when we make New York Our lair and dwelling-place. And yet we peradventure do mistake, Thus localizing the chief woes we wake, Since in all cities, Paris, London, Rome, Wherever man is faulty, foolish, base, We are and shall be equally at home. 86 THE BUSTLING BALL. The old classic Furies were but three, And yet far otherwise it is with us, Whose number is truly multitudinous, Although we flagellate in like degree. Think not to escape us ; vigilant are we, And armed at every point with cunning tact. Minute indeed the unimportant fact That can evade our piercing search ; Trivial indeed the least diurnal act That leaves our curiosity in the lurch. We know with what unflagging force Those tireless Greenbacques ever push and squeeze In their inflexibly propulsive course, And almost supplicate upon their knees For cards to dinners, parties, ante-prandial teas. We have seen Sibylla Moneypenny bow With cold impertinence to Ida Gray, Whom once she fawned upon because au fait In fashionable matters, but whom now She finds of no more use in her ascent Up aristocracy s aerial stairs. THE BUNTLING BALL. 87 We have heard how young Kate Pertinax has spent Whole hours in mending frocks and cleaning gloves, Since every rag the poor dear pauper wears Her own hand of necessity repairs, Turns, twists, remodels, that she still may keep Some sort of foothold in the loud gay world she loves. We observe, with stealthy eyes that never sleep, All secrets of the household, all affairs Domestically holy and obscure. Mysterious means are ours, whence we procure Tidings of separation and divorce, Delicious bits of scandal immature, Some merely racy, some profanely coarse. We know the servants wages paid (or not) By many a family of good renown ; We mark the corner-grocer s threatening frown, The unrewarded butcher s piteous lot, The explosive milliner s resentment hot While dunning for some long-completed gown. 88 THE BUNTLING BALL. We note the irate florist s wrath, or still The enraged confectioner s, or worse, That frequent and denunciating curse Of the wronged tailor, with his unreceipted bill ! MRS. BUNTLING. Dire are these free disclosures, and condemn The lips that give their spite impressive shape . . Since I, sweet Florimel Filigree, have erred, I crave with lowly grief your clement heed. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. I grant you grace, though deep the hurt you dealt, MRS. BUNTLING. Nay, tis not deep enough to thwart quick cure. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. My pride is delicately sensitive. MRS. BUNTLING. Too long on adoration thou hast fed. THE BUNTLING BALL. 89 FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Ambrosial diet, palatably rare. MRS. BUNTLING. Whereon dyspepsia waits, like Nemesis. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Dyspeptic am I not, nor ever was. MRS. BUNTLING. Pride is an indigestion of the soul. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Thou canst not understand me superfine. MRS. BUNTLING. Mortal thou art at most, howe er thou vaunt. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. All yield to death, the exotic as the weed. MRS. BUNTLING. Rankest thou none on earth thy better born ? 9 o THE BUNT LING BALL. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. How should I, lady, since none such draws breath ? MRS. BUNTLING. O apotheosis of wild conceit ! FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Tis not conceit to know one s vast deserts. MRS. BUNTLING. Great thinkers, writers, poets walk our globe. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. These are but toiling servants whom we pay. MRS. BUNTLING. Dost thou not reverence intellect at all ? FLORIMEL FILIGREE. I reverence nothing save the claims of caste. MRS. BUNTLING. O monstrous arrogance! what man is this? THE BUNTLING BALL. 91 FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Thou too reverest eminence like mine. MRS. BUNTLING. Wherefore assert, since thou art weak to prove ? FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Plenteous my proof, else why the Buntling Ball ? MRS. BUNTLING. I seek proud place, yet prize not solely this. FLORIMEL FILIGREF.. You seek a visiting-list of flawless kind. MRS. BUNTLING. With strong desire, but not with burning hope. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Such hope were worthy ! hold it not in scorn. MRS. BUNTLING. Pet of the ladies, hast thou any woes ? 9 2 THE BUNTLING BALL. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. I find it difficult to dress a blond. MRS. BUNTLING. Thou art American, or so I dream. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. I shame to answer in affirmative. MRS. BUNTLING. Dost thou regret thy country and thy race ? FLORIMEL FILIGREE. With all my well-bred gentlemanly soul. MRS. BUNTLING. Hast thou forgot the name of Washington ? FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Nay, surely not ! he was an Englishman. MRS. BUNTLING. What word hast thou to say for Lexington ? THE BUNTLING BALL. 93 \ FLORIMEL FILIGREE. A silly brawl, insulting good King George. MRS. BUNTLING. Dost thou not heed thy country s politics? FLORIMEL FILIGREE. 1 vote not on election-days, but bet. MRS. BUNTLING. Ah, why this unexampled apathy ? FLORIMEL FILIGREE. I hate all principles republican. MRS. BUNTLING. What others dost thou hunger for instead ? FLORIMEL FILIGREE. The White House turned a palace, me a Peer. MRS. BUNTLING. O traitorous and mad apostasy ! 94 THE BUNTLING BALL. CHORUS OF BELLES. Vex not our dear one s mind With thy shallow wit ; Vex it not, O Unrefined, For thou canst not fathom it. Rather shouldst thou sing a measure Full of adulating pleasure To a creature of his dainty darling kind. MRS. BUNTLING. What paean do ye lift to what loved god ? CHORUS OF BELLES. Thou mayst have met him now and then, Albeit we candidly declare He seldom walks excepting when The weather is extremely fair. Most walking he esteems a bore ; From bus or car his tastes rebel ; And cabs he finds appropriate for The modern New York swell. THE BUNTLING BALL. 95 Yet, meeting him, tis ten to one Thou quietly hast taken note How nice an architect has done The building of his overcoat. Thine eye has marked the shape and shad ; Of peerless trousers, perfect hat The intellectual effort made In tying his cravat. And doubtless thou hast paused and saic " Behold a being not designed The favor of one glance to shed On vulgar members of his kind. For finer clay wise Nature sought (It needs but half a glance to tell) When in propitious mood she wrought This modern New York swell." His breakfast is before him set At ten, eleven, sometimes two, And then he lights a cigarette And skims the morning papers through. 96 THE BUNTLING BALL. On afternoons he oft will chance A window at the club to try, And stare quite out of countenance The ladies who pass by. Or on a club-lounge he will loll, To wicked scandals giving heed, Some most ridiculously droll, Some very terrible indeed : How slightly Brassnose minds a snub, How Toperton has sprained his wrist, How Slye will have to leave the club For fraudulence at whist. Or he will go to drive, perhaps, On certain favorable days, In one of his attractive traps Behind a pair of beauteous bays. Some noted belle displays her charms Beside him, if his whim permits, And at his back, with folded arms, A rigid " tiger" sits. THE BUNTLING BALL. 97 Tis rare that he alone will dine, Since dining out diverts him more, And all our best grandees incline To entertain him o er and o er. His million and his manners please, And then it looks extremely well To seat at their mahoganies A modern New York swell. At evening party or at ball He shines conspicuously bright, And is not looked upon at all In any low and menial light. The hostesses of our haut ton Are always ready to admit That when he leads their cotillon He lends new charm to it. On opera he doth fondly dote, Though of its music, we confess, He seldom hears a single note With any real attentiveness. 98 THE BUNTLING BALL. From box to box he loves to float, And there he finds us all the same ; Compared with him we promptly vote Our favorite tenor tame. And thus he passes hours away, Yet sometimes toils, in spite of rank, Since now and then, for half a day, He cuts off coupons at the bank. A dreadful trouble . . . yet full well We know each life some care must see- Yea, even the life of such a swell As peerless Florimel Filigree. MRS. BUNTLING. Surely thou art beloved past common use . . . Wilt lead my German as first foreordained? FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Nay, lady, though I freely pardon thee Thy terrible unprecedented wrong, THE BUNTLING BALL. 99 I still am none the less debilitate, Demoralized, unstrung and shattered quite. I pray thee, therefore, ask some other man, Since many another would be glad to fill The office I resign for this one night. MRS. BUNTLING. Thou hast not yet beheld my daughter Jane With any save mayhap a cursory glance. Ere thou refusest, deign to mark my child, Thy willing partner, milky-armed, star-eyed, And robed in garments of the latest mode. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. I search for Jane, yet I discern her not. CHORUS OF BELLES. Jane, Jane, Where hast thou fled ? Jane, it is plain, Has hidden her head. Florimel openly shows to her loo THE BUNTLING BALL. Heed that by no means he owes to her ; And how can we say, Ere the night wear away, Whether Florimel may not propose to her? MRS. BUNTLING, Vainly I search through either spacious room. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Lady, art sure she sits not bowered aloof In gloom of some dim-tapestried recess, Beside some Anglomaniac devotee ? MRS. BUNTLING. Nay, Heaven avert that any maniac guest Should thrust his perilous presence where I dwell, FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Many have done this thing, yet fear thou not, Since void of harm their mild insanity. THE BUNTLING BALL. 101 MRS. BUNTLING. Spite of thy charge to fear not, still I fear. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Keep silent, hearkening, and thy fear shall end. CHORUS OF ANGLOMANIACS. It is positively false to call us frantic, For the soundness of our mental state is sure, Yet we look upon this side of the Atlantic As a tract of earth unpleasant to endure. We consider dear old England as the fountain Of all institutions reputably sane ; We abominate and loathe a Rocky Mountain ; We regard a rolling prairie with disdain. We assiduously imitate the polish That we notice round the English nabob hang ; We unfailingly endeavor to abolish From our voices any trace of nasal twang. 102 THE BUN TUNG BALL. Every patriotic duty we leave undone, With aversion such as Hebrews hold for pork, Since we venerate the very name of London In proportion to our hatred of New York. No entreaty could in any manner soften Our contempt for native tailors, when we dress ; If we bet, we " lay a guinea," rather often, And we always say " I farncy" for " I guess." We esteem the Revolution as illegal ; If you mention Bunker Hill to us, we sigh; We particularly execrate an eagle, And we languish on the fourth day of July. We are not prepared in any foolish manner The vulgarities of Uncle Sam to screen ; We dislike to hear that dull " Star-Spangled Banner," But we thoroughly respect " God Save the Queen." 104 THE BUNTLING BALL. We revere the Prince of Wales, though he should prick us With a sneer at the republic we obey ! We would rather let His Royal Highness kick us Than have been the bosom-friend of Henry Clay ! MRS. BUNTLING. Rank treason riots in their daring song. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. They sing but what they feel. So bear with them. MRS. BUNTLING. Rather than bear with them would I rebuke. FLORIMEL FILIGREE. Twere rash to tempt their Anglomaniac scorn. MRS. BUNTLING. Rash though it were, I yearn to speak my mind. THE BUNTLING BALL. 105 THE BUTLER. Most gracious lady, supper is announced. MRS. BUNTLING. I miss not merely Jane, but also him, My lord, Alonzo, master of this feast. CHORUS OF BELLES. Where is Alonzo, Round as a barrel, Hating to don so Smart an apparel ? Supper is calling him, Martyr yet master. Is there disaster Darkly befalling him ? He should be near us In stout actuality, Ready to cheer us With fine hospitality. Does he forsake us, I io6 THE BUNTLING BALL. Far in some upper room, When he should take us All to the supper-room ? Does he imagine us Disinclined slightly To welcome politely His smile oleaginous ? Has he detected A vague incivility ? Is he affected By latent hostility ? Why should he shirk us? Why thus depart from us ? Feelings that irk us Angrily start from us. Since the festivity Shows a proclivity Both to be edible And to be potable, Nay, tis quite risible Unto the most of us THE BUNTLING BALL. 107 That he, the host of us, Should not be visible, . Should not be notable. Tell us, Alonzo, Where you abide from us. Why carry on so, Alonzo, and hide from us ? MRS. BUNTLING. I had given orders, maidens, while ye sang Your song half-freighted with sarcastic spleen, Even as an arrow is half-tipped with gall ... The house in its entirety has been searched, Yet sign or trace is found not of these twain, My lord, the giver of this festival, My white-armed daughter, treasured past all cost. Ah, woe is me, upon whose modern head, Whose nineteenth-century head, has fallen an ill Most like calamities of ancient sort. Now, if I knew to phrase the antique mode Of suffering, I should peradventure tear Io8 THE BUNTLING BALL. My hair and moan with anguish classical. But knowing not these methods of great grief, I, powerless to tell my misery, Must uncomplainingly adopt the style Of modern sufferers and control myself. Wherefore I bid ye all, with placid mien, To sup, and while ye sup I bid ye think No thought of me deserted by her kind, Yearning to know the whereabouts of Jane, Yearning to know Alonzo s whereabouts. For I am sick at heart with awful dread : But ye, partake; the savory supper waits; The slim-necked bottle nestles in the ice; The sweet-fumed feast entices, close at hand. But me no appetite hath power to charm, Deserted, and most unexpectedly, By lord and offspring at the Buntling Ball. CHORUS OF GLUTTONS. We go with pleasure where you invite us, we scent the joyance of dainties rare ; fSVHH W 1 HO THE BUNTLING BALL. The well-known odors once more excite us, with force sufficient to curl our hair. A single purpose at ball or party controls our com ing, prolongs our stay ; Tis that of getting a nice and hearty substantial supper, with naught to pay. Our souls are with you, the gracious giver ; we fol low gladly where er you lead ; We own, each claimant, a perfect liver, and fine equipment to largely feed. Let others cherish the romping German, or see in chatter a charm to lure ; Our gastric juices alone determine whatever pas time we may secure. No idle worship of empty Mammon, no silly babble of man or maid, Against attractions of flaky salmon or larded par tridge may be arrayed. The eye that flashes, the lid that flutters, the fan flirtatious, the murmured phrase THE BUNT LING BALL. ill How slight a magic their meaning utters beside a lobster with mayonnaise ! What true contentment may pride insure us, through airs pretentious and vain display, When ranked with raptures that Epicurus, though dead for decades, preserves to-day ? Shall Kate who ogles, or blushing Mabel, or smil ing Lucy, their foibles rate With those enticements the supper-table, when fatly furnished, can demonstrate ? Do feet that twinkle, or glances dreamy, or lips that prattle, at all compare With Mumm and Clicquot a trifle creamy, or filet mignon a trifle rare ? Nay, heed and trust us, the hue is duller on cheek of maiden, though mantling gay, Than that more balmy and bloomy color which brims a bottle of Beaujolais. The hopes of mortals may pass and perish ; their faith may vanish ; their foes may smite ; 112 THE BUNTLING BALL. But they are happy who still can cherish the one last blessing of appetite. Though love desert us, though friends affection to deeds of malice may basely stoop, How sweet to treasure the proud reflection that still we value a perfect soup ! While cares beset him and troubles thicken, no man is wretched who still can boast Appreciation of devilled chicken and admiration for quail on toast. Though tyrants nourish and varlets flatter, though kingdoms totter and slaves rise up, When all is ended, how slight a matter, if still we ve peptics to dine or sup! Let statesmen squabble and nations wrangle, let great reformers their schemes propound ; What use to bother with life s tough tangle while nature leaves us a palate sound ? The gains of glory defeat their winner; ambition s bubbles explode when caught : TH E BUNTLING BALL. 113 There dwells more comfort in one good dinner than all the wisdom that Plato taught ! MRS. BUNTLING. Guests, if my lord, at this unseemly time, Hath choice to absent himself from our repast, Ye therefore judge the event with lenient mood, And feast as though your host were here in flesh. Nay, if you pardon frankness from the mouth Of one for whom politest art of speech Is now your debt as it should be my grace, I fain would venture, with all courteous heed, To rank no overplus of modesty Among those many virtues which perchance Adorn the social leaders of New York. Chide me if with untoward haste I judge, Gathering my quick decision from stray words Your lips have dropped in tones or loud or low. Wherefore, partake, and ere the banquet ends I trust this most mysterious vanishment Of him whose name I duteously bear, H4 THE BUNTLING BALL. And her who duteously names him sire, Will clear, and leave no shadow in its wake Of nebulous bewilderment, as when The emergent sun orbs all his vivid gold From clouds disparting, and the enormous blue Of stainless heaven, swept clear by rapid gales, Beams brilliant o er the moist rain-glittering earth . . . But who approaches with unwonted mien, And eyeballs unconventionally rolled ? What sharp alarm puts tremor in his lips? What agitation quite galvanical Crooks his erratic elbows, and destroys The equilibrium of his dorsal thews ? THE BUTLER. Lady, I was thy butler ; but dread fright Me that am only man hath altered much. MRS. BUNTLING. If fright has altered thee to this blanched thing, THE BUNTLING BALL. 115 I pray fright palsy not thy trembling tongue Till thou hast told what baleful news it hides. THE BUTLER. Lady, thy lord hath passed his vestibule And entered his well-decorated hall, Himself yet not himself, I shame to state. For he is flown with wine, hath drunken deep, And all his majesty of corpulence Is changed as when I dip the dry crisp folds Of a clean towel into heated suds : Even so thy lord is limp and flaccid now. MRS. BUNTLING. O unforeseen calamity ! Get hence, And bid thy fellow-vassals aid thine hand With timely interference, ere he seek These crowded chambers, fronting cruel jeers. THE BUTLER. Lady, no more could I restrain him now n6 THE BUNTLING BALL. Than round the o erflowing goblets that I serve Repress the Verzenay too rashly poured. SEMICHORUS OF GOSSIPS. Matters look extremely queer . . . Are we wrong or are we right ? Anastasia pales with fear, As we feel that well she might. SEMICHORUS. Omens dark are in the air . . . Wait and watch, with lively sense; Soon we all shall be aware Of a scandal quite immense. SEMICHORUS. As tis pleasant to aver, Fate especially has planned That whatever may occur, We shall have it at first hand. THE BUNTLING BALL. 117 SEMICHORUS. Be it trivial, be it great, We shall note the whole affair, Able afterward to state, Calmly, proudly " I was there." SEMICHORUS. No one knows till he has tried, What enjoyment may be seized When the gossip feels with pride Curiosity appeased. SEMICHORUS. We of course would all object That disaster should befall Any gathering select, Like the present Buntling Ball. SEMICHORUS. Still, should something yet unnamed Stimulate our anxious fears, Il8 THE BUN TUNG BALL. We could surely not be blamed If we used our eyes and ears. SEMICHORUS. Look ! Alonzo comes this way, And we plainly can assert That a shocking disarray Marks the bosom of his shirt. SEMICHORUS. Far from us the malice be Hateful slanders to invent ; But beyond a doubt we see That Alonzo s coat is rent. SEMICHORUS. Calumny we all deplore ; False reports we disavow ; But the top-knot that he wore Is a hirsute ruin now. THE BUNTLING BALL. 119 SEMICHORUS. We despise mere reckless talk, Loved by malapert and dunce ; But Alonzo seeks to walk Two diverging ways at once. SEMICHORUS. "Tis not ours to interfere With the utterance nature grants, But his vowels all appear Angry at their consonants. SEMICHORUS. Always with concern polite We from vulgar speech have shrunk ; But Alonzo seems to-night Irremediably drunk. MRS. BUNTLING. Alonzo, am I mad or do I dream ? You dawn like some unbidden ribald guest 120 THE BUNTLING BALL. Here on the nice decorum and fine state Of this the Ball I give with proud intent To assert my claims for social eminence. MR. BUNTLING. I took a walk, to get a lilleair. MRS. BUNTLING. Thy lips incapably articulate The unwilling words that thou wouldst have them speak. MR. BUNTLING. Look here, now, Anastasia, don getmad. MRS. BUNTLING. dark calamity ! O dread disgrace ! MR. BUNTLING. 1 met a few friends at the Hoffmanouse. tm tu tJ JL BUNTLING BALL. 121 MRS. BUNTLING. Forbear, I pray, to wildly seize my robe. MR. BUNTLING. Real friends o mine, you know, Chicagomen. MRS. BUNTLING. Friends truly were they, to have turned thee thus ! MR. BUNTLING. Lemme explain ... we talked about oletimes. MRS. BUNTLING. Old times ! new mournful times have fallen on me ! MR. BUNTLING. Oh, come, now, don put on sushawfulairs. MRS. BUNTLING. Alonzo, thou art gazed on with contempt. MR. BUNTLING. Don look at me like that. I bossthisball. 122 THE BUNTLING BALL. MRS. BUNTLING. Thou bossest it ! O anguish ! O despair! MR. BUNTLING. I bossthisball. I saysoanditstrue. MRS. BUNTLING. Still more his words play truant with his tongue. MR. BUNTLING. Come, drop those airs, or else I ll giveyeaway. MRS. BUNTLING. Give me away ! O wild vernacular ! MR. BUNTLING. I ll tell these fine folks how I married yer. MRS. BUNTLING. horror! Pause, Alonzo, ere too late! MR. BUNTLING. Ladies and gemmen, this good wifeomine 1 met one day justwennyone years ago, THE BUNTLING BALL. 123 Before Chicago was a greatbigplace. Her mother was a ladyomyownheart ; She hadn t any frills or furbelows, But kept a nice respec able candystore Not far from where the Grand Pacifotel Is now located . . . Anastasia helped Tend customers and I droptintoget Candies for Martha Stout, anothergirl That I was sweeton though I didntlove. But when I d spent adollarormaybemore, I found I fancied Anastasia best, And so I . . . MRS. BUNTLING. Guests, all thronging curious, With lips pursed tight as though from occult mirth, I pray ye pass toward yonder supper-room, Nor heed this drivelling and insensate tale Told by one pitifully in his cups ! Pass on, I do beseech of ye, pass on ! 124 THE BUNTLING BALL. Ah, woe is me, that strive to make ye pass, Yet witness only your blank hostile stares, Unmerciful as when the suppliant hand Would strive to plead with the hot lightning s lip! Ye bear not with me ; ye are obdurate ; Ye gaze with uncompassionating eyes At this my shame, nor leave me to its pang, Alone, unnoted, while ye blithely eat. Sure, yonder spreads the appetizing board, Loaded with dainties of surpassing price. Ye belles, ye wall-flowers, Knickerbocker swells, Yea, Anglomaniacs, gossips, gluttons, too, Retire, and leave me with my foolish lord ! CHORUS. We have heard the turgid talk of your Alonzo ; We are scandalized that he should carry on so ; We allow it is our bounden task to leave you With the husband who can thus annoy and grieve you; Yet in spite of dishes cooked with costly dressing, THE BUNTLING BALL. 125 We confess, though quite ashamed for thus con fessing, That deserting supper s charms we still must tarry And observe you scold the man you chose to marry. His behavior, we admit, is very awful, His disclosures, we acknowledge, are unlawful ; But his entrance, with dishevelled hair and collar, We will grant we d not have missed for many a dollar. It is not that we have sought your entertainment With a wish to see you placed in such arraign ment, But when private woes appear like placards pasted, We prefer to leave your supper still untasted, MRS. BUNTLING. I scarce can believe what I hear; Your cruelty fills me with fear. Do I find you conceding That this is good-breeding, At family troubles to sneer? 126 THE BUNTLING BALL, CHORUS. Exception we venture to make, Aggrieved by your signal mistake, If thus you accuse us You sadly abuse us, And sombre resentment awake. MRS. BUNTLING. Then why do ye stoutly remain To criticise and to disdain, When surely twere kinder To heed my reminder And sip my expensive champagne ? CHORUS. Although your request is deplored, Its claim is by no means ignored; Yet should we desert you, Perchance he might hurt you, This loudly inebriate lord. THE BUNTLING BALL. 127 MRS. BUNTLING. I am not afraid in the least ; It were best your anxiety ceased ; For I shall soon tame him And thoroughly shame him, When once you have fared to the feast. MR. BUNTLING. The truth of the whole affair is That she means all she says for a quiz ; I m perfec ly able, By no means unstable, And game for a bolleofizz. CHORUS. We cannot in reason deny Your force to oppose and defy, And if you continue Such masculine sinew, Your chance of success we descry. 128 THE BUNTLING BALL. MR. BUNTLING. A wife should her husband obey, As only a fool would gainsay, But when I first wed her My wife took a header, And kicked half her harness away. MRS. BUNTLING. Absurd is the figure you cut, Assuming that swagger and strut ; Your horrid condition Will harm your position And make you society s butt. MR. BUNTLING. Who cares what society thinks ? I don t give her twenty good winks ; I rattle my money And laugh at how funny She looks when she poses and prinks. THE BUNTLING BALL. 129 CHORUS. His words have a much clearer flow Than those we heard not long ago ; As might be expected, His wits are collected. And greater sobriety show. MR. BUNTLING. Position I do not applaud; Tis an empty and meaningless gaud; In Europe I told it How lightly I hold it, But here I esteem it a fraud. MRS. BUNTLING. O guests, I beseech, ere too late, That you all will consider his state As that of one blindly Discoursing unkindly, From causes I need not relate. 130 THE BUNTLING BALL. MR. BUNTLING. Don t mind Anastasia s talk ; My statements her wrath cannot balk. You ve no more suspicion Of grandeur patrician Than cheese has resemblance to chalk. CHORUS. This diatribe does not appall ; It rouses contempt (that is all) To see you exulting Because of insulting The guests at your own Buntling Ball. MR. BUNTLING. I did not insult you a bit; My motive was proper and fit. Your ancestors landed With far more expanded Ideas than your snobberies hit. THE BUNTLING BALL. 13 T MRS. BUNTLING. Retire, I pray of you, maltreated guests, To where the untasted supper waits your heed. MR. BUNTLING. Cry down, if so ye will, the Buntling Ball ! Who cares what dainty discontent ye wreak On me and mine ? Who cares what bitter things Ye scornfully assert? Erewhile in drink, I now am sobered by your bitter smiles, Though left with courage of such potency That I dare speak my mind and say my say. This Ball is Anastasia s Ball alone. Hateful as feels the close tense garb I wear, Do I hold all your brummagem parade. Hateful I hold your unrepublican Conceits of caste in our Republic grand. Hateful I hold your liveries, arms and crests, Hateful your truckling lackeys, hateful all Your traits and uses un-American. For I was reared in patriotic scorn 132 THE BUNTLING BALL. Of those who do not reverence this dear land As freedom s noblest effort yet on earth. Perfect I do not dare to name her; still, She is nearer pure perfection by great strides Than any realm the Old World may boast of now. Her faults are mighty; mighty her virtues too. But ye with rash indifference feed her faults : Ye strive to arouse in manners, morals, creeds, Those very vices of display and pride Our commonweal was wrought to crush and spurn. Ye are all our brave forefathers fought against ; Ye are self-convicted foes of equal rights, True liberty and fine democracy. I gaze upon my wife, so fatally Enchanted by your spells, and almost hate This power of wealth I won by honest toil, Since thus its gain enslaves her to your rule. Ah me ! it is not many years ago That Anastasia, in her Western home, Met cheerfully her daily manual tasks, A willing housewife, pleased at decent thrift. THE BUNTLING BALL. 133 When first we married, neither thought to hire A servant, but with unobjecting zeal Our food was cooked by Anastasia s hand. Then later, with increased prosperity, Our Jane being born, in sober conference We chose the novel luxury of a cook. But many a month succeeded ere we sought The larger luxury of a chambermaid. And notwithstanding all the gold that came Pouring from Pork through other later years, I think that our dear Jane was full seventeen While yet we dined at noon and supped at six. Then Anastasia s heart ambitious grew ; She fain would ape the airs of folk she saw In street or theatre ; we must change our life ; Dry-goods of costly kind must clothe her form ; She thought our basement no fit dining-room ; She thought our upper dining-room too small; She thought our modest house ridiculous; She thought a spacious mansion more in taste ; She wanted servants, footmen, carriages; *^ 134 THE BUNTLING BALL. And last of all she clamored stubbornly That we should go abroad and marry Jane To some great duke or prince. I, like a fool, Yielding in all things, yielded finally To this determined whim. We went abroad, But c}id not marry Jane ; for our loved child, Simple in soul and full of homely tastes, Lacked art or wish to marry save where lay Her gentle preference, her maiden love . . . But where is Jane, my daughter, whom I named? I see her not, poor dear dissembling one, Who oft has told me how her mother s course Of cold and callous worldliness would rouse Her own unspoken pain and secret tears. MRS. BUNTLING. Tis false that Jane hath ever thus confessed ! Tis false that I am what thy dreadful words Presume to paint me, spurred by reckless drink, And sure of swift repentance when the bane Of this vile wine-engendered mood shall pass. THE BUNTLING BALL. 135 SEMICHORUS. You mentioned your Jane, And she comes this way. Her face, it is plain, Is by no means gay. She looks, on the contrary, serious, And also a trifle imperious, As though there had lain Some distress on her brain, To its proper repose deleterious. O Jane, why should comfort forsake you so, And dark discontent overtake you so ? Why are you dejected With gloom unexpected, And what can have happened to make you so ? Your father, of course, has been rude to us, In language uncivil and crude to us ; But you were aloof, And received not the proof Of how savagely frank was his mood to us. 136 THE BUNTLING BALL. Your mother, no doubt with sincerity, Regrets his exceeding temerity, But this would not place In your virginal face An expression of so much severity. SEMICHORUS. Who is he beside you standing With the air of one demanding Your reciprocal affection While he offers full protection ? Either we have wrongly noted, Or we saw him thus devoted Ere you left us, though serener In his general demeanor. Does he offer explanation For your pensive perturbation ? All through him are you so harassed, Pale, defiant, yet embarrassed ? Have you turned a willing student In the school of deeds imprudent ? THE BUNTLING BALL. 137 Have you shown him tokens tender Of your heart s complete surrender? Are you now about to utter What shall make your parents flutter With its unrestrained expression Of idolatrous confession ? JANE. O chanting voices, I detect cold scorn Below the melodies that ye lightly weave. Ye therefore will I answer not, but look Toward them alone whose pardon I would win ; Yea, pardon, since my new sole hope lies here, And deep will be my sorrow if it fail. SEMICHORUS. Soon in free and full exposure We shall hear some strange disclosure ; For, O Jane, as we behold you, Wraps and sealskins now enfold you ; And, reluctant to disparage, Still we scent a secret marriage. 138 THE BUNTLING BALL, JANE. Parents, twere best if I should use quick speech And let what wounds I deal be dealt with speed, So saving pangs more gradual truth would wake. This youth you gaze on here beside me now Is named Leander Briggs, and I have sworn But recently before a clergyman To love, to honor, and obey this youth Till death his eyes or mine shall veil with night. Yea, he and I, irrevocably wed, Crave mercy for this matrimonial step Which love, the all-swaying force of human hearts, Hath fondly urged and wrought on us to take. MR. BUNTLING. Jane Buntling, what mad jest is this of thine ? JANE. Jane Briggs that was Jane Buntling mercy pleads. MR. BUNTLING. I think some dream plays trickster with my brain, THE BUNTLING BALL. 139 JANE. Awake thou art in every fleshly sense. MR. BUNTLING. What man is this, then, O unnatural child ? JANE. One whom to love I found most natural. MR. BUNTLING. Thou canst not long have known him ere to-night. JANE. Three happy weeks are limit of my love. MR. BUNTLING. What knowledge hast thou of his worldly place ? JANE. He is a dry -goods clerk of slender means. MR. BUNTLING. Infatuate girl ! How often had ye met? 140 THE BUN TUNG BALL. JANE. Thrice ere to-night. Soul quickly speaks to soul. MR. BUNTLING. O victim to a shrewd adventurer ! LEANDER BRIGGS. Nay, never that, though dry-goods clerk am I, Even as thy beauteous child hath lately told. No purer passion yet has ruled a life Than this which now enthralls, and evermore, Till death and life be self-same, shall enthrall My individual homage, act and thought. O elderly paternal gentleman, My father-in-law compulsory, deem not That thou hast gold enough in bank or bond To richer make my loyalty and love. Nay, shouldst thou sternly bid thy child depart, Disfranchised of all right to call thee sire, Abominated, disinherited, Declared exempt and alien equally From ties of blood or lucre posthumous, THE BUNTLING BALL. 141 I, not the less, I, plain Leander Briggs, A simple clerk of Meares and Company, Would hear thy verdict with no vulgar grief Like that the baffled fortune-hunter feels, But bravely I would seek to mitigate The sharp results of thy regretted wrath, And treasure, if twere possible, with more Devout protection her my sireless bride. Hear me, O elderly respected one (And while I call thee elderly methinks The term injustice, with such youthful bloom Thy fresh cheek mantles, and thy virile eye So sparkles with proud manhood s vivid fire), It would not irk if Jane were dispossessed Of all prospective share in thy great gains, Did I know surely that her valued self Were mine through years to guard and to adore. MR. BUNTLING. Thou hast indeed a facile tongue, slim clerk, To prate so glibly of my youthful bloom 142 THE BUNTLING BALL. And sparkling eye. Were I a vain man, now, Or one who set much heed on lapse of years, Desiring to look younger than I am, Perchance thy skilful flattery might bestow Some sort of tolerance on thy misdeed And hers. But let such nonsense pass . . . I am elderly, as thou didst own erewhile, Yet not so marvellous elderly in sooth And as for handsome . . . well, I do claim skin Of bloomy tint, eyes not so dull as stones, And locks less grizzly than But pah ! forbear To dream that paltry compliments like these Can blunt the poignant justice of my rage. Thou hast done shamelessly and thievishly. Nor thou nor she must look upon my face After to-night ; ye are banished, both of you, Each deep at fault ; one grossly treacherous, And one a prodigy of ingratitude. JANE. O father, heed thy supplicating Jane ! THE BUNTLING BALL. 143 I would have told thee all three weeks agone, When first, in purchasing pink silk, I saw And loved unchangeably Leander Briggs, Save that a fear of what mamma might learn Deterred and hindered my confiding wish. For thou wert ever lenient to thy Jane; I do remember (ah, so thankfully !) How oft thy hand would intercede for me Between my shrinking girlish form and that Implacable maternal slipper, poised To wring the bitter shriek from helpless lips. And ever would I bring thee what I loved In those dear vanished days Chicagoan A toy, a doll, a book of pictured rhymes, A shining apple, rubicund, rotund, Seeking thy praises and approving smiles. So, now, my cherished father, do I bring That which I love in later different hours, My true Leander; for I know him true As birds know true the first warm hints of Spring, As trees know true the mellowing sun-ray s thrill, I 4 4 THE BUNTLING BALL. As violets, hid beneath the vernal mould, Know true the south wind s voice that lures their blooms. He is a clerk at Meares and Company s, Monotonously measuring long yards Of different stuffs, from tulle to calico, From tape to lace. But ah, his manly mind Partakes not of these trivial daily tas vs. O father, hear me out before you close Impenetrable doors upon us both. Leander, while he measures yard on yard Of universal fabric, hoards unseen Below the counter where he deftly serves, A volume of most intellectual sort, No less a volume, O my father dear, Than that Proverbial Philosophy Of Tupper, which I clearly recollect Thyself didst love to read upon the lounge, When tea was over, ere thy final doze. This book Leander reads at stolen whiles, And loves the massive wisdom it contains, THE BUNTLING BALL. 145 And strives to shape his conduct to its lore, Regarding it as filled with maxims rare, And sometimes murmuring o er its precious lines Unconsciously, while heartless customers Haggle and barter, and the great store hums, And all the worldly babbling mercantile Resounds about his pure poetic ears. MR. BUNTLING. Nay, art thou sure that he loves Tupper well ? JANE. joy to see that smile illume thy face ! MR. BUNTLING. Young man, dost thou love Tupper s golden verse ? LEANDER BRIGGS. Next to my Jane my Tupper do I prize. MR. BUNTLING. 1 did not think to pardon thee ; yet now, 146 THE BUNTLING BALL. Regarding thee with closer scrutiny, I see thou hast a meditative brow, As sicklied o er by the pale cast of thought Which doubtless thou hast found in Tupper s page. Well, since thou art the husband of my Jane, And since one mutual cult I recognize Between thyself and me, thus much I deign To pardon, and no more : it is that thou Shalt meet me in fair social intercourse To-morrow and discuss that lofty bard. Till then, thy hand . . . what afterward shall hap Is hidden deep in awful scrolls of fate. LEANDER BRIGGS. Oh, thanks, propitiated father-in-law ! MR. BUNTLING. Prove that thou art full worthy ere thou boast. LEANDER BRIGGS. That will I prove ere sinks another sun. THE BUNTLING BALL. 147 CHORUS. O sombre ending of the Buntling Ball ! O ruin of hopes by strong ambition fed ! Where shall proud Anastasia hide at all The droop of her humiliated head ? Surely the ignominy seemed enough Her madness to arouse When her aggressive spouse Came reeling hither, bibulously gruff With inarticulate platitudes about her marriage- vows. Ah, yes, Alonzo, tumbling in unruly Among the assembled throng, With no more cultivation than a Coolie, And with his equilibrium all gone wrong, He was a nuisance and an outrage truly, And fit for an exterminating thong. Rarely in social records, high or low, Has any mortal man Played worse barbarian And made an entrance more malapropos. I4 THE BUNTLING BALL. Rarely has any dame Been put to keener shame Than hapless Anastasia by the glow Of his broad-blown and vinous visage, by His alcoholic eye, And by the inhospitable impudence, whose flow Tingled through every nerve of our punctilio. But what, moreover, shall we say of Jane, With her preposterous pranks, Her reprehensible disdain Of proper filial duty, filial thanks ? How shall we rate her attitude inane? Did lunacy compel it, willy-nilly ? Alas! we think her eminently sane, Although superlatively silly. Disgraceful is her conduct, thus to trammel Maternal efforts that she clearly saw. O Jane, you are the last tormenting straw, And fit to break the back of any camel ! Besides, although of limited capacity, As far as appertains to matters mental, THE BUNTLING BALL. . 149 You must allow your positive mendacity To be deliberate, not accidental. Instead of your papa s forgiveness gentle, The fiat that shall wholly disinherit You very richly merit. Instead of his " I-bless-you" style conventional, You thoroughly deserve a Harlem flat As payment for duplicity intentional. A Harlem flat, and rather small at that, With complicated smells of frying fat And washing-suds ascendant. A little peevish kitchen-range that smokes Because the chimney just above it chokes, And one poor frowzy girl for your attendant. Oh, yes, most faulty Jane, You should henceforth refrain From sealskin sacques and silk resplendent. Your future lot should prove If this fantastic love Would long remain, Romantic Jane, 150 THE BUNTLING BALL. In all its charming throes, One sweet couleur-de-rose y With poverty about your dear neck pendent ! You soon would find out whether This husband of your choice Would pull not somewhat stoutly at his tether And lose his dove-like voice When served an ill-cooked supper, And growl about the life you lived together, In spite of all fine precepts from his venerated Tupper. JANE. Your random mockeries leave me scathless quite. LEANDER BRIGGS. Disdain them, since thy sire has pardoned us. JANE. Still could no Harlem flat destroy our love ! LEANDER BRIGGS. Not though its attic roof leaked floods of rain ! THE BUNTLING BALL. 15! JANE. Mamma sets gloomful eyes upon us both. LEANDER BRIGGS. The quivering of her lip is leonine. JANE. I think her silence will end terribly. MR. BUNTLING. Right art thou, Jane. My pardon is not hers. JANE. Leander, let us kneel, beseeching grace. MRS. BUNTLING. Kneel not ... I did believe, a brief while since, That some black nightmare thralled me dreadfully, And that I waking would discern the snare Thus woven of sleep s fell visionary imps. But all such easy credence vanishes, 152 THE BUNT LING BALL. And I am left to front the galling fact. What, did ye look for wrath ? No wrath have I, But only sorrow past the reach of tears. That which is done stands irreversible ; The Jane I deemed my Jane is some weird Jane Who being my daughter was a hypocrite, A cheat, a fraud, and therefore not my Jane At all at any time since girlish years. I might have borne calamities like these Bravelier, if dealt not by a husband s hand, Or daughter s. For the ambition I had nursed Was equally to advance myself and them. The glory of my accomplishment should fling Its light on their two heads as on my own. We should have made a trio of leadership, And ye that here have witnessed my defeat Would have beheld my threefold victory . . . But all that roseate dream is melted now ; I am betrayed, yet not by outward foes ; My household, yea, the nearest of my kin, Rise up and slay me ... I had planned for Jane THE BUNTLING BALL. 153 A marriage of such haughty eminence That foreign journals gladly from our own Would copy all the details of its pomp. Who now shall chronicle this vulgar flight, These recreant spousals, but with jest and scoff? The Buntling Ball, O thou perfidious child, Hath turned thy marriage feast. Go, drink and eat With him thy father s easy pardon joys. Nor viand nor foaming vintage is for me, But sorrowing solitude through many days Perchance remorse, repentance . . . who shall say ? For I have wrongfully adored the power Of wealth and sought to use it as a stair Whereby ambition s feet might scale renown. But peradventure comfort still remains My suffering spirit through the exercise Of noble and unstinted charities Hereafter, whose consolatory balm, While healing other wounds, may heal mine own. CHORUS. Lady, we pity thy supreme distress, 154 THE BUNTLING BALL. While solemnly departing, each and all ; Yea, while departing wholly supperless, Amazed that such disturbance should befall. Yet deeds once done eternally are done ; The Fates are three, and purblind man is one. O dire events the Fates alone could guess! O sombre ending of tk,.guntling Ball! TJJU7BRSIT7 YDC