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From: Carlos Malenkov <cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Advice for the Bride  [History: modern]  (MF hist wl rom anal)
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Date: Sat, 29 May 2004 05:10:05 -0400
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Second try for this one. First attempt lost in hyperspace.
---


This one's for FranzKafka79's "Spring 2004 Historical Challenge."
The story was inspired by http://www.squaredancecd.com/Bride/brides.htm.
---


ADVICE FOR THE BRIDE
by Carlos Malenkov <cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com>
word count: 1861
Copyright (c) 2002. 
Posting and archive rights granted to ASSM, but all other
rights reserved.



October 4, 1894

My Dear Abigail,

I have dispatched you this note by hired messenger, lest it fall into
the hands of Mr. Anthony Comstock and his zealous minions in the Postal
Service.

I assume that by now you have seen Ruthie's article in the Fall issue
of the "Hamilton Foundation Journal." Guidance and advice for the young
bride, indeed.

	  "Morally upright matrons are always attentive to clever and
	   inventive methods of thwarting and discouraging the amorous
	   advances of the husband."

Excellent advice . . . for driving said husband straight into the
embrace of strumpets and paramours. It is a perfect recipe for conjugal
unhappiness, marital discord, domestic disaster, and a broken home.

At first, I considered this malignant little screed evidence of a budding
sense of humor, a quality she evinced all too little of while Horatio and
I were bringing her up. Unfortunately, I can give only scant credence to
that possibility. She is in deadly earnest I fear.

I suppose it was preordained. She had to marry that loathsome Lothar
Livingston, a depraved wretch hiding behind a priestly collar. If there is
but one woman in his parish, single or married, who has not had her bottom
pinched by that pious lecher, I have yet to meet her. Ruth, too, has
had her little dalliances if there is any substance to what I hear. Let
her then invent her mendacious little concoctions in a vain attempt to
maintain her respectability. It will come to no good in the end.


Your kindred soul,
Pauline



October 6, 1894

Good Friend Pauline,

Let me say first of all that it would be rather presumptuous of me to
advise you on such matters. I am not, after all, one of that tribe of
Yellow Press scribblers who have attained a measure of notoriety by
dispensing soothing bromides and shopworn nostrums to care-burdened
readers. Moreover, we van Burens are in the habit of keeping our own
counsel. You, however, have grown so very dear to me over the years that
I cannot withhold comfort.

Perchance I did find that particular issue of the Journal lying about.
A member of my domestic staff evidently receives it by subscription
through the mails.

My dear, I do believe this matter weighs all too heavily upon you.
I recall very well Ruth's misadventures as a young maiden; how she
would prefer the company of young ruffians to that of her feminine
contemporaries. I recollect, too, the sorry circumstances of her
marriage to the not so very Reverend Livingston. Forgive me, dear,
for being excessively blunt, but she had gotten in a delicate condition
as a consequence of unseemly behavior with one or more of her unsavory
associates, and was thus certainly in no position to pick and choose a
more seemly companion for the voyage of holy matrimony.

	  "The wife should lie perfectly still during the conjugal act
	   and in no case evince that she is obtaining enjoyment from
	   same."

Ha! I do believe this is referred to as "dead arse" in less exalted
circles. It would be quite effective in convincing the husband to seek
his pleasures elsewhere.

          "Sex is at best distressingly animal-like and an affront
           to one's dignity and injurious to the higher sensibilities."

I find very interesting her word choice in the article. In an attempt
to avoid what she doubtlessly considers coarse and unsuitable language,
she substitutes the baroque usage "sex" for conjugal relations.

          "The bride, arrayed in her sleeping gown and having turned
            off the lights (blessed darkness hides all!), will lie
            passively upon the marriage bed awaiting the entrance of
            her lawfully wedded husband."

Likewise, I cannot imagine what she connotes by "turning off the lights,"
unless that refers to the process of putting out electrical lanterns. Not
having those newfangled contraptions in my own home (this electrification
frenzy will pass none too soon for me!), I am quite ignorant of such
esoterica.

          "Should he lift her gown and attempt to caress her thereunder,
           the bride must pull the covering quickly back in place,
           extricated herself from his clutches, and give him to
           understand that she must immediately attend to a call of
           nature."

I am tempted to laughter. Imagine a reader perusing her article 100 years
hence. He might well think it falsified, if not meanwhile overcome by
disgust at the sheer and utter hypocrisy expressed within.


Yours as ever,
Abby



October 9, 1894

Dear Abby,

Had it not been for my own grandmother, born to the enlightened
Eastchester Eastheimers in a more forgiving century than ours, I myself
might well have been hoodwinked by such invidious trumpery. Prior to
my wedding day, dear old Grannie Ruth (after whom we were to name our
ill-starred progeny) took me under her wing and instructed me in all those
matters in which a bride-to-be needs to be guided. Fortunate indeed was I,
as poor, bumbling Horatio (despite his tendency to blow his own horn),
had not an inkling of how to conduct himself on that most blissful of
nights after we were wed.

Subsequent to his first fumbling attempts, I was able to impart to Horry
an appreciation of those various portions of a woman's anatomy that
have need to be stimulated in order to facilitate her arousal. Indeed,
in a matter of a few days we were both in a state suitable to take
our pleasure from those most sweet of relations, which our Ruthie so
vulgarly calls sex. If, as a result, I am to assume the mantle of shame
for indulging in an "orgy of sexual lust," then so be it.

As an antitoxin to the nonsense of "The Hamilton Foundation Journal,"
I would recommend to you the writings of Miss Victoria Woodhull, and in
particular back numbers of "Woodhull and Claflin's Weekly." You might
be aware that Mistress Woodhull appeared on the presidential ballot
some years previous, together with the well-known journalist and orator
Frederick Douglass.


Your bosom friend,
Pauline



November 13, 1894

Dear Abby,

You must surely have been shocked and surprised to hear of our detention.
No more shocked and surprised than were we when the sheriff's bailiffs
rapped on our door Thursday last with a warrant for the arrest of
myself and poor Horry. Imagine, we were spirited away in irons from our
afternoon tea!

It seems that our very own spiteful daughter, Ruth, and that misbegotten
Reverend of hers preferred charges against us. The bill of particulars
accused us of sodomy and unnatural acts.

I must confide to you that Horry and I have indeed violated the spirit of
the law, if not the letter. Following our wedding (lo, these many years
ago!), we endeavored to keep our family to a manageable size, in a sense
to control the frequency of childbirth. To this end, Horry obtained a
quantity of the sausage maker Mr. Julius Schmidt's prophylactic "sheaths,"
with which to enclose his member during our conjugal relations. These did
seem effective in prevention of getting me with child, but at the cost of
decreased enjoyment of the procreative act for both participants. The
passage of a federal anti-obscenity statute outlawed all such devices,
and we had to perforce seek a different remedy.

I did consult with wise Granny Ruth concerning this, and she suggested a
rather eccentric expedient. In other times and places, certain libertines
practiced a mode of embracing that did seem to greatly diminish their
female consort's childbearing frequency. This involved intromission of
the man's generative organ into the the woman's aperture of elimination,
in lieu of the more usual locus. Unexpectedly, after we had transcended
initial feelings of revulsion, this very measure brought both to Horry
and myself pleasure, indeed rapture, much greater than that from the
more common usage. To this day, therefore, we have continued this very
practice, even long past the time when my menses ceased and we no longer
had need take measures against life quickening within me.

Apparently Ruth had been stealthily observing us in our bedchamber,
and indeed she, her sniveling Reverend, and several police inspectors
did burst in upon us while we were taking our pleasure in our special
modality. They thus contrived to snare us in flagrante dilecto, so to
speak. I believed at the time that this small spiteful victory would
suffice my vengeful daughter and her oleaginous husband, but that turned
out not to be the case.

Most fortuitously, the intercession of a dear family friend on our
behalf has liberated us from the immediate prospect of confinement in a
penal institute. Civil Service Commissioner Roosevelt, he of the Oyster
Bay Roosevelts, not the lesser Hyde Park branch, vouched for our good
character. This by itself sufficed to obtain our release.

I shall resume this narrative when my nervous condition has abated
somewhat.


Yours, in exaltation over delivery from misfortune,
Pauline



November 27, 1894

Dear Abby,

We have spent the most marvelous Thanksgiving holiday at the Roosevelts.
Truly we had much to be thankful for, as young Theodore, Teddy as he is
known to his friends, informed us that the charges for our allegedly
iniquitous offenses had been withdrawn at his behest. He does have
considerable influence in certain circles, it seems.

Jolly, good-natured Teddy, natty and distinguished in his equestrian
regalia and pince nez spectacles, does somewhat resemble a stuffed bear
toy of the sort one might purchase at a Fifth Avenue emporium. How very
handsome and cuddlesome he is!

He is outspoken, strongly opinionated, and does have some considerable
tendency to ride rough-shod over those with whom he does not agree. Yet,
his boundless ambition argues that he shall go far in life. Perhaps
even the very presidency of this great nation of ours does not exceed
his grasp.

I inquired regarding his recent travels, and he replied that he remembers
Maine fondly, but opined he should like to see Cuba some day soon.

All in all, this very pleasant repast helped dispell certain less than
pleasant memories of recent days.


Yours, restored in heart and spirit,
Pauline


*    *    *


November 1, 1911

Dear Abby,

I have long since forgiven Ruth that most unfortunate incident some
years back. We have for some time been once more mother and daughter.

Since my darling Horry passed on in '04, Ruthie and her children are
all the family I have remaining. She and her lothario Reverend Lothar
had become estranged after one too many scandals involving parish
wives, but they are venturing one final attempt to reconcile their
differences. Endeavoring to be of aid in this, I have sent them on a
round-trip voyage to Europe. They shall see the glories of the Continent
-- Paris, Berlin, Vienna, Rome. Next month they depart on the White Star
liner Olympic and return in the early spring on her newly-built sister
ship, the Teutonic I believe she is called. Pardon me, Abby, my memory
has been failing of late.

In a sudden fit of both despondency and hope, Ruth confided in me,
"If this voyage does not rescue our marriage, then I fear Lothie and I
are well and truly sunk."

Let us hope for a favorable outcome.


Yours,
Pauline

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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