Modesty, diffidence, and a proper humility, are jewels in the cap of
merit; but downright bashfulness, your real _mauvaise honte_ is
terrible, and is a distinct mark of ill-breeding, or rather of no
breeding at all. Your dashing impudent fops, who say a thousand silly
things to the ladies, and flutter around them like butterflies, are
yet more endurable than your bashful fellow who sneaks into a corner,
terrified to catch a look, or exchange a word with a pretty woman.
Such an identical person paid me a visit on one of the cold days last
week, and broke in upon me with a thousand bows and apologies, while
busily engaged with pen in hand, thinking of a whig candidate for
president, who would not run the risk of being knocked on the head by
our friends the moment his name was announced.
"Sit down, sir, if you please; make no more apologies; sit down and
tell me your business." "Well, sir, I'm come for a curious business,
quite an intrusion, I'm sure, but so it is; necessity knows no
ceremony. Some time ago I read in your paper a description of the
miseries of an old bachelor, and it was so to the life--so true, and
so exactly my condition, that I have made bold to call on you for
advice; for misery, they say, loves company, and one wretched bachelor
may be able to counsel another--thus it is.--" "Stop, stop, my friend;
before you proceed, let me correct an error in which you have, no
doubt, inadvertently fallen. Though I may be able from memory to
describe the misery of single wretchedness, I had not the courage
constantly to face it. You must not be deceived, I am no longer a
bachelor; do you want the proofs, look there; that black-eyed, ruddy
cheeked fellow on the carpet, employed in cutting out ships and houses
from old newspapers, is my oldest; he designs himself to be an editor,
for he contends that nothing is easier; it is only, he says, cutting
out slips from one paper and putting them into another. That little
one who struts about in a paper cocked-hat and wooden sword, with
which, ever and anon, he pokes at my ribs, while deeply engaged in
considering how the nation is to be saved, is my second hopeful; he is
a Jackson man; all children, sir, are Jackson men; he goes for a
soldier if there be wars. That little golden-haired urchin, with a
melting blue eye, who is sure to ask me for candy, while I am
describing, in bitter terms, the tyranny of the Albany regency, is my
youngest; and there, with a basket of stockings near her, sits my
better half; there is the sparkling fire, and here are my slippers:
does all this look like the miseries of a bachelor?" "Well, I beg your
pardon, sir, for believing that you were as wretched as I am; but
still when you hear my story you may possibly advise me what is best
to be done." "Go on, sir." "Well, sir, thus it is: My father realized
a handsome property by his industry, which he left to me; but such
were his rigid notions of the necessity of constant occupation to
prevent idleness and other evils, that my time was employed, after I
had left school, which was at an early age, from sunrise to bed-time.
It was an incessant round of occupation--labor, keeping books, and
making out bills. Behold me now, at the age of twenty-three, with a
good constitution, correct principles, and a handsome income. I have
lost my parents--am alone in the world. I wish to marry, but really,
sir, to my shame I confess it, I have no acquaintance among young
ladies. I do not know any. My secluded manner of living has prevented
my cultivating their acquaintance; and if by accident I am thrown into
their society, my tongue is literally tied. I do not know how to
address them--I am not conversant with the topics which are usually
discussed. In short, sir, I wish to advertise for a wife, and not
knowing how to draw up such an advertisement, I came to beg that favor
at your hands."
"So, so," said I to myself, "here's a little modesty tumbled into
decay--'Coelebs in search of a wife.'" He was a good-looking young
fellow, and had a quick eye, which led me very much to doubt his
reserved, retired and abashed condition before the ladies.
"Have you, sir, considered the risk in taking a wife in this strange
way? How very liable you may be to gross imposition? What lady of
delicacy or reputation would venture to contract an alliance so very
solemn and obligatory, through the channel of a newspaper
advertisement?" "Very probably, sir; but a poor honest girl might be
struck with it; a clever, well-educated daughter, ill-treated by a
fiery step-mother, might, in despair, change her condition for a
better one; nay, a spirited girl might admire the novelty, and boldly
make the experiment." "Well, sir, and how are you to conduct the
negotiation with your native bashfulness? You have no superannuated
grandmother or old maiden aunt to arrange preliminaries." "That's very
true; but, sir, necessity will give me confidence, and despair afford
me courage."
I wrote the advertisement for him, which he thankfully and carefully
placed in his pocket-book, and bade us good morning. "Poor devil,"
said I, "here's a condition--here's a novelty--here's a _rara avis!_ a
fellow of twenty-three, with a good character and income, and not
sufficient impudence to ask for a wife. I know lots of young ladies
who would have sufficient charity to break him of his bashfulness in a
few lessons."
However, his case is not a novel one. It shows the necessity of
parents accustoming their sons in early life to cultivate the society
of respectable females. They should be encouraged in any disposition
they may manifest for good female society, although they may incur the
charge of being either a beau or a dandy. Boys should go to
dancing-school, not only because it teaches them grace, but it
accustoms them in early life to the society of women. They dance with
those girls, whom, in later periods, they may admire and respect as
ladies. The lives of children should be checkered with innocent
amusements--study and labor require such relief; and they should not
be brought up in close confinement, in a doggerel way which unfits
them for society when they are men; nor be driven to the dire
necessity of advertising for a wife, and taking the risk of such a
desperate adventure.
From the Knickerbocker.