A Bachelor's Confessions

I'll have a private, pensive single life.

THE COLLIER OF CROYDON.

I was sitting in my room a morning or two since, reading, when some one
tapped at the door, and Master Simon entered. He had an unusually fresh
appearance; he had put on a bright green riding-coat, with a bunch of
violets in the button-hole, and had the air of an old bachelor trying to
rejuvenate himself. He had not, however, his usual briskness and
vivacity, but loitered about the room with somewhat of absence of
manner, humming the old song,--"Go, lovely rose, tell her that wastes
her time and me;" and then, leaning against the window, and looking upon
the landscape, he uttered a very audible sigh. As I had not been
accustomed to see Master Simon in a pensive mood, I thought there might
be some vexation preying on his mind, and I endeavoured to introduce a
cheerful strain of conversation; but he was not in the vein to follow it
up, and proposed that we should take a walk.

It was a beautiful morning, of that soft vernal temperature, that seems
to thaw all the frost out of one's blood, and to set all nature in a
ferment. The very fishes felt its influence: the cautious trout ventured
out of his dark hole to seek his mate, the roach and the dace rose up to
the surface of the brook to bask in the sunshine, and the amorous frog
piped from among the rushes. If ever an oyster can really fall in love,
as has been said or sung, it must be on such a morning.

The weather certainly had its effect even upon Master Simon, for he
seemed obstinately bent upon the pensive mood. Instead of stepping
briskly along, smacking his dog-whip, whistling quaint ditties, or
telling sporting anecdotes, he leaned on my arm, and talked about the
approaching nuptials; from whence he made several digressions upon the
character of womankind, touched a little upon the tender passion, and
made sundry very excellent, though rather trite, observations upon
disappointments in love. It was evident that he had something on his
mind which he wished to impart, but felt awkward in approaching it. I
was curious to see to what this strain would lead; but I was determined
not to assist him. Indeed, I mischievously pretended to turn the
conversation, and talked of his usual topics, dogs, horses, and hunting;
but he was very brief in his replies, and invariably got back, by hook
or by crook, into the sentimental vein.

At length we came to a clump of trees that overhung a whispering brook,
with a rustic bench at their feet. The trees were grievously scored with
letters and devices, which had grown out of all shape and size by the
growth of the bark: and it appeared that this grove had served as a kind
of register of the family loves from time immemorial. Here Master Simon
made a pause, pulled up a tuft of flowers, threw them one by one into
the water, and at length, turning somewhat abruptly upon me, asked me if
ever I had been in love. I confess the question startled me a little, as
I am not over fond of making confessions of my amorous follies; and,
above all, should never dream of choosing my friend Master Simon for a
confidant. He did not wait, however, for a reply; the inquiry was merely
a prelude to a confession on his own part, and after several
circumlocutions and whimsical preambles, he fairly disburthened himself
of a very tolerable story of his having been crossed in love.

The reader will, very probably, suppose that it related to the gay widow
who jilted him not long since at Doncaster races;--no such thing. It was
about a sentimental passion that he once had for a most beautiful young
lady, who wrote poetry and played on the harp. He used to serenade her;
and indeed he described several tender and gallant scenes, in which he
was evidently picturing himself in his mind's eye as some elegant hero
of romance, though, unfortunately for the tale, I only saw him as he
stood before me, a dapper little old bachelor, with a face like an apple
that has dried with the bloom on it.

What were the particulars of this tender tale I have already forgotten;
indeed I listened to it with a heart like a very pebble stone, having
hard work to repress a smile while Master Simon was putting on the
amorous swain, uttering every now and then a sigh, and endeavouring to
look sentimental and melancholy.

All that I recollect is, that the lady, according to his account, was
certainly a little touched; for she used to accept all the music that he
copied for her harp, and all the patterns that he drew for her dresses;
and he began to flatter himself, after a long course of delicate
attentions, that he was gradually fanning up a gentle flame in her
heart, when she suddenly accepted the hand of a rich, boisterous,
fox-hunting baronet, without either music or sentiment, who carried her
by storm, after a fortnight's courtship.

Master Simon could not help concluding by some observation upon "modest
merit," and the power of gold over the sex. As a remembrance of his
passion, he pointed out a heart carved on the bark of one of the trees;
but which, in the process of time, had grown out into a large
excrescence; and he showed me a lock of her hair, which he wore in a
true lover's knot, in a large gold brooch.

I have seldom met with an old bachelor that had not, at some time or
other, his nonsensical moment, when he would become tender and
sentimental, talk about the concerns of the heart, and have some
confession of a delicate nature to make. Almost every man has some
little trait of romance in his life, which he looks back to with
fondness, and about which he is apt to grow garrulous occasionally. He
recollects himself as he was at the time, young and gamesome; and
forgets that his hearers have no other idea of the hero of the tale, but
such as he may appear at the time of telling it; peradventure, a
withered, whimsical, spindle-shanked old gentleman. With married men, it
is true, this is not so frequently the case; their amorous romance is
apt to decline after marriage; why, I cannot for the life of me imagine;
but with a bachelor, though it may slumber, it never dies. It is always
liable to break out again in transient flashes, and never so much as on
a spring morning in the country; or on a winter evening, when seated in
his solitary chamber, stirring up the fire and talking of matrimony.

The moment that Master Simon had gone through his confession, and, to
use the common phrase, "had made a clean breast of it," he became quite
himself again. He had settled the point which had been worrying his
mind, and doubtless considered himself established as a man of sentiment
in my opinion. Before we had finished our morning's stroll, he was
singing as blithe as a grasshopper, whistling to his dogs, and telling
droll stories; and I recollect that he was particularly facetious that
day at dinner on the subject of matrimony, and uttered several excellent
jokes not to be found in Joe Miller, that made the bride-elect blush and
look down, but set all the old gentlemen at the table in a roar, and
absolutely brought tears into the general's eyes.

A Bachelor's Confessions

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