In it was a small wicket door. The stone
pillars were time-stained and battered, and
looked as if they might have stood there since
the days when William of Orange brought his
Dutch court to Kensington.  In one of them
was a plain brass bell-handle.  On both were
painted, in faded and half illegible letters, the
words, "Elton House."

THE BACHELORS' STRIKE.

To render modern French marriages what
they ought to be —marriages of inclination,
instead of hard-bargained money matches* —M.
Thévenin proposes a no less sweeping measure
than the abolition of the marriage-portion.

* See MODERN FRENCH MARRIAGES, page 42 of
the present volume.

He allows that the importance of a dowry is
not a matter of to-day. We know the number
of camels, oxen, sheep, and servants, which
Jacob received as Rebecca's portion.  The
dowry, therefore, is no new institution; but its
antique origin, according to our author, adds
nothing to its moral value. No man with a
proper sense of his own dignity, can allow it to
reckon amongst the considerations which determine
his marrying.  The male sex, who assume
to take the lead, would sink wonderfully in the
good opinion entertained of them by the weaker
sex, if ladies only reflected seriously on the
disreputable side of mercantile marriages.

Remembering the profound respect for money
in which we are trained by society, what
deference can a woman have for a husband who
derives his own position and supremacy solely
from the dowry she brings him?  Wealthy
heiresses, full of pretensions justified by
universal prejudice, are in general wantonly
capricious and insupportable as wives. The wise
man, therefore, will shout from the house-tops,
"It is shameful to sell your independence and
dignity, to risk your happiness and honour, for
a money payment, however handsome. Marry
to be happy, and not to be rich. If you can
combine riches with happiness, there is no harm
done; it is so much the better.  But never
forget the proverb, 'A contented mind is far
before wealth.'   Put no faith in opulent couples
who jingle their money to stifle their remorse;
enjoy yourself as well as you can, until it please
Providence to send you an income; but never,
never, buy it at the expense of tranquillity,
happiness, dignity, and conscience.

"Some time ago, they played at the Gymnase
a piece called 'Un beau Mariage,' 'A capital
Match,' by Emile Augier.  Try to see it or to
read it.  You will there behold the galley-slave's
life led by an honest young fellow, whose only
crime was believing in the generosity of a great
lady whose richly-portioned daughter he had
married. At the fourth or fifth act, the much-
despised husband has acquired, by his talent, a
high position.  The noble mother-in-law then
runs after him, and reads her recantation. It
is a sad reality.  Moral marriage should never
be a speculation."

It is wonderful that those who most stand
up for the dowry, do not remark that it is the
principal if not the only cause of the diminution
of marriages.  At the present day, luxury has
made such strides, that many people—and they
deserve no pity for their folly—prefer
superfluities to necessaries.  Consequently, many an
heiress, who was considered rich some years
ago, is now despised by speculators as virtually
portionless.  The idea is perfectly logical.  If
the young lady, by her luxurious tastes, her
expensive habits, threaten to absorb the interest
of her portion, what benefit will the husband
derive from the capital on which he had reckoned
to better his position?

In this state of things, a wife is a burden
instead of a helpmate. How, in fact, is it to be
expected that a girl brought up in silk and lace
should make a good housekeeper, a frugal
companion, a profitable partner?  Her coquettish
instincts—stupidly developed by her parents,
who considered them a means of establishing
her and relieving themselves—cause her to
behold in marriage nothing more than an easy
method of exchanging lace for feathers, and
flowers for diamonds. Their education is so
null, not to say worse, that wealthy women do
not even suspect that marriage may convert
them into mothers of families, and that serious
duties are incumbent on them.  They only see
an opportunity of seizing the liberty after which
they sigh, of satisfying their whims, in defiance
of a master-slave, who is liberally paid if they
vouchsafe him a smile, and overpaid if they
allow him to share their extravagances.  As
matters go at present, portioned marriage is a
luxury which none but opulent financiers dare
indulge in.  Many a little citizen's daughter,
with a dowry of a hundred thousand francs,
assumes, as a thing of course, the right of
spending ten thousand francs a year.

One would say, to see the manner in which
Paris girls are brought up now-o'-days, that
they were all either millionnaires, or destined
for the seraglio.  "Housewife, or courtisane,"
said Proudhon, coarsely, "there is no possible
medium."  What are they taught in their
boarding-schools?  Unhappily, it is only a traditional
pleasantry to suppose that they learn to make
pickles and preserves.  They are taught to
bedizen themselves, to claw the piano in deplorable
style, to sit a horse like a monkey on a camel's
back.  They cannot even embroider, like the
ancient châtelaines, who, during the Crusades,
made tapestry which is now the delight of
modern antiquaries. For their mother's fête-
day, they buy a ready-worked something, of
which they fill in the ground.  They murder
one of Strauss's waltzes, if they can manage to
read the notes; but they don't know the A B C
of the inside of a house.  Puppets of parade,
they would exhaust the sands of Pactolus in
ruinous fancies and futile caprices; and yet
these damsels are astonished if the men are
anxious about the amount of their dowry.  M.