COURTSHIP.
Courtship, like most
other matters relating to love and matrimony, may be said to present abundant
scope for eccentric and original developments. It is a course of proceeding
which is regulated by no fixed principles or general formulæ [sic]. The symptoms are
as variable as the weather, and neither precepts nor examples are of much
avail, because the policy which may in one case prove eminently successful may
in another result in the most lamentable failure. There is no definite rule,
even on such a fundamental point as whether the initiative and active
negotiations shall devolve upon the lady or the gentleman. There are fortunate
individuals of both sexes whose fate, we confess, fill us with envy.
According to popular
tradition, it is the special prerogative of the fair sex to be wooed and won;
but this is not by any means an invariable rule. It has many exceptions; and
some who profess to speak from personal experience, as well as extensive observation,
go so far as to declare that in the majority of instances it is really the
ladies who do the courting, though the initiative and other formal steps may
ostensibly lie with the enamored swain. A good deal might, no doubt, be said in
support of this theory. Women have far more tact in the management of such
affairs than men, who invariably evince a remarkable propensity for “putting
their foot in it.” The subject, moreover, is one in which the ladies are
supposed to be more nearly concerned. As Byron says:
“Man’s
love is of man’s life a thing apart, ‘Tis woman’s whole existence.”
While a man may have a
hundred different objects and ambitions in life, and may leave his matrimonial
fate in great part to chance, there is seldom any object which bulks so largely
in a girl’s prospects as that of being well matched, and, as the phrase goes, “comfortably settled” as partner in a good matrimonial firm. It need, therefore, be no
matter of surprise that our fair sisters should so often be found angling in
the waters of the social world for what their luck may bring them in the shape
of a husband; and there is considerable common sense, as well as piquant humor,
in what the heroine of a popular new comedy has to say to her girl friend as to
the responsibility which devolves on a dutiful young lady of paving the way and “leading up” to a declaration and proposal.
We remember listening
to a remarkable address on this subject by an oratorical Quakeress, who seemed
strongly disposed to assign to man the place of the wooed, rather than that of
the wooer. “My friends,” she observed, “there are three things I very much
wonder at. The first is, that children should be so foolish as to throw up
stones, clubs and brickbats into fruit-trees, to knock down fruit; if they
would let it alone, it would fall itself. The second is, that men should be so
foolish, and even so wicked, as to go to war and kill each other; if let alone
they would die of themselves. And the third and last thing I wonder at is that
young men should be so unwise as to go after the young women; if they would
stay at home the young women would run after them.”
Not withstanding this
lucid train of reasoning, it is to be hoped young men will not do anything so
ungallant [sic] and unmanly as to stay at home and neglect what has all along been
their peculiar privilege. A man may be so highly favored by fortune that his
rank, wealth, genius or personal qualities enable him to outshine all rivals,
and to regard wooing and winning as for him almost synonymous terms; but to
allow any such considerations to influence his conduct in a matter of this kind
would not only be an evidence of the worst possible taste, but would be a
flagrant outrage on all the laws of chivalry. On the other hand, a man may be
so bashful and awkward in the matter as to require so much encouragement that
all the courting may be fairly be said to come from the other side. But in both
cases—apart from psychological subtleties and too curious matter-of-fact
observations—the man’s proper and natural place, our view at all events, is
that of a humble and respectful suppliant at the shrine of beauty, grace and virtue.
The inauguration of a
courtship may occur in a thousand different ways. In some instances it can be
traced back to the innocent companionship and confidences of early childhood;
in others it springs from the sudden inspiration of what is called “love at first sight.” We have before us a curious, old-fashioned “Letter-writer,” which
seems to supply epistolary prescriptions for almost every exigency of human
life. A section of the work is devoted to showing how letters ought to be written on matters relating to love, courtship and marriage. One of the most
interesting specimens—especially as showing how a courtship might have been
initiated in the less conventional days of our grandfathers—purports to be “from
a young man suddenly captivated at the play-house.” “The charms of your person”—says
the “young man suddenly captivated”—“which appeared to such advantage last
night at the play-house in Convent Garden have totally deprived me of my heart.
I flatter myself my glances were not altogether disagreeable, as I did not
perceive any token of disdain. I am therefore encouraged, though a stranger, to
make this humble acknowledgment of my love; and, if you will honor me with an
interview, in the presence of any relation, will satisfy you, and those whom it
may concern, with respect to my parentage, connections, profession and all
other matters that should be known previous to an allowed familiarity.
Presuming, unless a fatal pre-engagement prevents, that you will comply with my
request, seeing that my designs are apparently honorable, I remain, waiting
with the utmost impatience for an answer,” etc.
To this epistle the
young lady’s papa replies, the prescribed form of his answer being so far
favorable as to arrange for an interview. All this is delightful; but it is
hardly considered quite proper nowadays for a young lady at the play to treat
the “glances” of strange young men with anything else than “disdain,” or, at
all events, apparently unconsciousness; and the chances are ninety-nine to a
hundred that such an epistle would now be instantly consigned to the fire or
wastebasket. The illustration, however, recalls the story of a certain
celebrated actress who on one occasion received the following original
declaration, which, one may safely presume, was not copied from a “letter-writer:”
“MADEMOISELLE—I am only a poor worker, but I love you like a millionaire. While
waiting to become one, I send you this simple bunch of violets. If my letter
gives you a wish to know me, and to answer to the sentiments of my soul, when
you are on the stage to-night, lift your eyes to the gallery; my legs will hang
over.”
The compiler of the “letter-writer”
above referred to displays a singular amount of ignorance with regard to the
attitude generally assumed on such occasions by the “stern parient [sic],”
who, even in the “good old times,” very seldom met the advances of those who,
though utter strangers, presumed so to seek his daughter’s hand with such
agreeable courtesy. The difficulty of securing the consent of the young lady’s parents has always been one of the greatest obstacles in the course of true
love. In order to overcome that difficulty, or to find opportunities to carry
on the courtship in spite of it, many a singular device has been resorted to.
Here are two rather entertaining illustrations:
A young gentleman fell
in love with the daughter of his employer; but the different social status of
the pair seemed to preclude all hope of a successful issue, the young lady’s
papa sternly forbidding any further progress in the matter, and denying the
young man the privilege of continuing to visit at his house. The situation appeared
almost hopeless; but feminine ingenuity rose to the occasion. The old gentleman
was in the habit of wearing a cloak, and the young couple made him the unconscious bearer of their correspondence. The young lady would pin a letter
inside the lining of her father’s cloak, and when the old gentleman threw off
the garment in the counting-house, her lover would take the earliest
opportunity to secure the valued missive and send back his reply in the same
manner. Love and ingenuity were finally successful. The other case was that of
an American young lady whose friends refused to ratify her choice and approve
her betrothal. The expedient she hit upon was simple but effective. She just
went to bed, declaring her determination to remain there till her parents gave their
consent, which occurred in less than a fortnight. It was found by that time to
be less expensive and more agreeable to call in the lover than the doctor.
So much for what may
be called the parental difficulty; but what about the success of the lover in
finding favor in the eyes of his adored? The pleasures of courtship are no
doubt very great, but they will become as ashes to the palate if they end in
final rejection. As a trans-atlantic [sic] poet pathetically remarks:
“Tis
sweet to love; but, ah! how bitter
To
love a gal and then not git her!”
It is often extremely
difficult to know exactly how to achieve success in love. We cannot all be
great, or beautiful, or even supremely good; but next to realizing all these
conditions in one’s-self, it is important to believe, or, at all events, to
make the young lady believe, not only that she herself is beautiful and good,
but that she possesses those qualities in sufficient plentitude [sic] to make up for
your manifold deficiencies. Even in this direction, however, there is danger;
and the lover will do well to bear in mind the experience of an abandoned suitor, who, when asked why he had been rejected, replied: “Alas, I flattered
her till she became too proud to speak to me.”
Touching this same
subject of flattery, a lady was asked on one occasion why plain girls often get
married sooner than handsome ones; to which she replied that it was owing
mainly to the tact of the plain girls, and the vanity and want of tact on the part of the men. “How do you make that out,” asked a gentleman. “In this way,”
answered the lady. “The plain girls flatter the men, and so please their
vanity; while the handsome ones wait to be flattered by the men, who haven’t
the tact to do it.” There have been cases, however, in which the situation presented
here as been reversed, and plain, even ugly men have succeeded in making
themselves so agreeable to young ladies as to become their accepted suitors.
Here is a case in point. When Sheridan first met his second wife, who was then
a Miss Ogle, years of dissipation had sadly disfigured his once handsome features,
and only his brilliant eyes were left to redeem a nose and cheeks too purple in
hue for beauty. “What a fright!” exclaimed Miss ogle, loud enough for him to
hear. Instead of being annoyed at the remark, Sheridan at once engaged her in
conversation, put forth all his powers of fascination, and resolved to make her
not only reverse her opinion, but actually fall in love with him. At their
second meeting she thought him ugly, but certainly fascinating. A week or two
afterwards he had so far succeeded in his design that she declared she could
not live without him. Her father refused his consent unless Sheridan could
settle fifteen thousand pounds upon her; and, in his usual miraculous way, he
found the money.
Those who have read
George Eliot’s “Felix Holt” will remember how Felix, though himself a rough,
unpolished workman, gained the love of a refined and delicately reared young
lady, not by flattering, or even attempting to please and gratify her, but by
chiding, depreciating and almost despising her because she read Byron and knew
nothing of the heavy mental pabulum on which he was wont to feed. She at first
was dreadfully vexed and offended; but by-and-by she came to believe that Felix
had a grand moral ideal, beside which her own was frivolous and insignificant;
and striving to emulate his exalted motives and views of life she made him her
beau ideal, with, of course, the usual result. In theory, or in a novel, this
is no doubt all very fine; but in everyday life the mode of procedure adopted
by Felix Holt would be, to say the least, decidedly risky, and would very
probably end disastrously. It is always safer to risk a little flattery.
“Happy is the wooing
That is not long a doing,”
says the old couplet;
but a modern counselor thinks it necessary to qualify the adage by the advice: “Never
marry a girl unless you have known her three days, and at a picnic.” In this,
as in other matters, it is always desirable to hit the happy medium. Marrying in haste is certainly worse than a too protracted courtship; though the latter
has its dangers, too, for something may occur at any time to break off the
affair altogether, and prevent what might have been a happy union. It may
always be concluded there is a screw loose somewhere if Matilda is overheard to
say to her Theodore, as they steam up the river with the excursion: “Don’t sit
too far away from me, dear, and turn your back on me so; people will think we’re
married.”
A friend of Robert
Hall, the famous English preacher, once asked him regarding a lady of their acquaintance:
“Will she make a good wife for me?” “Well,” replied Mr. Hall, “I can hardly say—I
never lived with her!” Here Mr. Hall touched on the real test of happiness in
married life. It is one thing to see ladies on “dress” occasions and when every
effort is being made to please them; it is quite another thing to see them amidst the varied and often conflicting circumstances of household life.—Chambers Journal.
