ancient marineress

plural ancient marineresses

1. An old woman who bears some resemblance to Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, especially one who has an unfortunate history or insists on telling her story.

   Here’s to the health of my respected ancient mariner-ess—a veritable old maid, all forlorn, whose legacy is a long time coming, but sure to get here some time.

   1881 October 14, “Aunt Sarah’s Fortune”, in Valley Sentinel, volume 18, number 23, Carlisle, Pa., page 1

   5 more examples

   Further than this mystic demonstration none of them had gotten, so far, for Mrs. Parker kept her glittering eye on them like an Ancient Marineress and “The boldest held his breath for a time!”

   1879 March 5, [Rose Terry Cooke], “Dr. Parkers’ Patty”, in Nanaimo Free Press, volume V, number 92, Nanaimo, B.C.

   “I’m all ready,’ announced the fluffy haired girl just then, thrusting the last long pin through her new hat. “So am I,” said the sallow young woman. “But the ancient marineress here—” “Sit down,” commanded the philosopher.

   1904 June 18, “The Girl Philosopher”, in Marion Daily Star, volume XXVII, number 173, Marion, Ohio, page six

   Two humorous numbers were given. One by Mr. G. C. Donovan, Lexington, N. C., which was entitled, Breakers Ahead, and in which he depicted Elon life and society in the year of grace 1950. The other was an original impersonation by Esmond R. Riedel, Holland, Va., to which he gave the title, The Ancient Marineress. It was a graphic portrayal of one of our “evening sisters” making her maiden voyage to London.

   1917 March 1, The Herald of Gospel Liberty, volume CIX, number 9, page 212 (20)

   But now it’s Shirley finally making her film debut as the slattern looking for her lost youth in “Come Back, Little Sheba” for Hal Wallis and she’s hailing the advent with: “The ancient marineress finally arrives in Hollywood.[…]”

   1952 February 25, Daily News, number 17,821, Los Angeles, Calif., page 17

   The worst of this lot of frustrated authors was a trembling old woman who insisted that he must read her manuscript immediately or it would be stolen by her enemies. . . . Unable to shake off this Ancient Marineress, he took her into his office, opened the huge ribbon tied manuscript, and found only blank pages.

   1953 April 19, Fanny Butcher, “The Literary Spotlight”, in Chicago Sunday Tribune, volume CXII, number 16, part 4, page 11