ON A YOUNG LADY'S CONDUCT WHEN CONTEMPLATING MARRIAGE.
The following chapter, met with in a recent perusal of an English work
for young ladies, strikes me as so admirable, and so appropriate in this
place, that I quote the chapter entire:
"The difficulties and trials of life have only just begun when a young
lady fancies herself to be of sufficient importance to become the theme
of animadversion. She knows little of the true importance of
self-control, until she experiences the first indications of preference
shown her by the other sex.
"Such indications are often manifested, whilst she to whom they are
directed, is wholly unprepared to analyze her own feelings, before her
opinions upon what she has seen are by any means developed; before she
has even considered adequately, on what her happiness depends; before
she has discernment to reject what is frivolous, or wisdom to prefer
what is good. This is more especially the case in the highest and lowest
classes, in which, by a strange analogy, they either rush into the
marriage state whilst children, or wait until the bloom and hopes of
youth have forever passed away, in order to form interested matches. The
matured period of five-and-twenty to thirty, is passed by the lower
classes in the single state in labor to gain subsistence; after thirty,
or even forty, we often find them marrying. But the majority have sealed
their own fate before the age of twenty.
"In high life, the same haste to dispose of daughters prevails as among
the lowest classes. At seventeen, most of our belles of fashion expect
to receive proposals. If they do not marry within a few years after
their introduction, they have a mortified sense of having lost
time--that the expectations of friends and of parents have not been
fulfilled; that others have 'gone off' before them. The next ten years
are often a period of subdued vexation, and the sweetness and
contentment of the original character is impaired. About seven or eight
and twenty, the views of life are sobered--the expectations chastened--a
renovation takes place--women again become agreeable; their minds must
in the lapse of time, even with a miserable store of observation, have
improved. They then often marry--and, if the union be not a mere effort
of despair, if it be based on sound and holy principles, and on good
sense, there is, for both parties engaged, a great likelihood of
happiness.
"But, it may be naturally contended, that there come not to _all_ young
ladies the opportunities of which I write; that indications of
preference arrive not to all. I am inclined to believe that, with good
temper, pleasing manners, and respectable connections, there exists, in
modern society, very few young ladies who have not received under
various circumstances, some marks of preference, more or less decided.
Beauty and plainness are arbitrary, not positive, terms. Unless there be
any actual deformity, any great infirmity, in which case I think it were
cruel to pre-suppose the likelihood of such indications, there is no
one, that I hardly ever met with, who has not had, on some grounds, her
partizans and admirers. The plain are often particularized as elegant;
tastes vary: even a sour look I have heard admired as sensible, cold
manners eulogized as correct. Opinion, however it may generally verge to
the correct, springs from so many sources, it is so governed by
association of ideas, such trifles may guide it, that I am never
surprised at the latitude given to personal encomium nor at the endless
variety and incongruity of human judgment. It is well that all have a
chance of being approved, admired, beloved, and it remains for them to
avail themselves of those possibilities which contribute so much to
happiness. For we are sympathizing beings, and a law of our nature makes
us look for a return of sympathy. We are sent here to form ties, and to
love, and to be loved, whether the term applies to parental, or filial,
or fraternal love--or whether it respects the less sure and more fitful
experiences of love, in its ordinary sense.
"I do not blame the parents who instil into their children of both sexes
a desire to be married. I think those who teach the young a different
lesson deceive them. Marriage, with all its chances, its infelicities,
its sacrifices, is seldom so infelicitous, so uncertain, so full of
sacrifice, as the single state. Life must have some objects, and those
objects must be progressive. The mind is happier and healthier with
such interests, even if sorrow comes along with them, than in its
solitude, its desolate freedom from care, when having, as the phrase is,
no troubles of the conjugal sort to disturb its tranquillity. I
therefore do not censure those who desire to see their daughters happily
and suitably established in life. It is the indiscreet and vulgar haste,
the indelicacy, the low mercenary views, and the equally low ambition to
compass a splendid match, which is blameable and revolting in the
parental conduct.
"Many are, however, blessed with guides and guardians of very different
characters; with parents, whose lofty natures not only reject such
unworthy notions, but somewhat incline to the extreme of repelling all
advances for their daughters. In either case, the conduct of a young
lady may be the same. It is she who must form her own destiny in points
on which none can effectually aid her. It is she who is to be the happy
wife, or the wretched victim; and it is to her that these observations
of admonition and of warning are addressed. Let us suppose her young, of
course, attractive in appearance, of good birth, and some fortune. I
here except heiresses, who, being anomalies, deserve a particular
paragraph for themselves. But let us suppose that no obstacle of family
or connection interferes to check the approach of a suitor.
"The eyes of her family and of her young friends are upon her, when a
young lady receives the first indications of preference. She is
generally ashamed of it. This is the first sentiment of a modest and
ingenuous mind, and it is one indication, in my opinion, of the
impropriety of early marriages. Nature seems still to wish to keep the
young and blushing girl apart from that connection which entails grave
and arduous duties. But Nature's voice is far less often heard than that
of her adversary, expediency. I must, therefore, shape my injunctions to
that which exists, not to that which we would wish to exist.
"Almost sinking under this painful sense of shame, this novel
disturbance of her usual set of feelings, a young girl catches at the
first reed to save herself from observation and detection. I mean
detection of her perception of that which others may or may not see. She
seizes upon ridicule. She pretends to laugh at one, whom sometimes her
youthful romantic fancy dwells upon in a very different sense. She
laughs at the foibles, supposed or real, of her admirer: she plays a
dangerous game. If any of those to whom she imparts her witticisms are
malevolently disposed or thoughtless, she runs a risk either of wounding
the feelings of a man whom she does not like, or of losing the regard of
one whom she might in time not only esteem, but love.
"Another effect of such attentions as awaken a consciousness in a young
lady's mind, is the gratification of vanity, perhaps until then latent
in her heart. The first preference is apt to upset the reason of its
object as of him who shows it. The word vanity does not seem to imply
danger. Vanity is generally considered an innocent failing; but it is
innocent only as some kinds of food are to a healthy subject. On a weak,
or even on an inexperienced mind, it acts, sometimes, fatally for the
vain. A girl is either carried away by admiration so as to be flippant
and foolish, or she is blinded by her vanity to the failings of the man
who first admires her. She is intoxicated with the notion of an offer
of marriage; she imagines, in her simplicity, effervesced as it is by
the infusion of flattered vanity, that she has inspired such an
attachment as will never be recovered, should she prove adverse to it.
Many an engagement has been formed under this conviction, and fulfilled
only to prove its fallacy, for the love which was supposed too strong to
survive disappointment, has expired in the fruition of its hopes.
"To guard against either of these risks to happiness, a well-educated
girl should endeavor, in this, to exercise her judgment. She should be
sincere. She is blameable to ridicule the attentions which are meant as
complimentary to her. They ought to be at least regarded with respect.
"Should they not be acceptable, she is inexcusable to requite them with
levity and disdain. Let her reflect how she would like such conduct
herself. Besides, she is often making a bitter enemy; perhaps she is
exciting fierce and unamiable sentiments in one who otherwise might have
been regarded as a mild and worthy individual. Let her be undeceived if
she supposes that in thus doing she is carrying herself with dignity, or
acquiring any added admiration from others. She ceases, in thus acting,
to support the characteristics of a gentlewoman, which are mildness,
courtesy, and reserve. If she cherishes, in spite of her pretended
disgust, a secret partiality for the individual who distinguishes her,
if she is lowering the esteem of a man whom she prefers, she not only
incurs the hazard of losing his regard, but she is scattering ridicule
on one whom she afterwards avows as her choice. In that case, she is
lowering herself, or she is sowing the seeds of distrust in the minds of
those who know her--she is, perhaps, frustrating and delaying her own
happiness. Let her act with candor, with consideration, with good sense,
and all this web which her folly would weave around her will not
embarrass her. Let her not madly and obstinately resist the advice of
those on whose affection to her, and on whose good judgment, experience
has taught her to rely. Let her be a child in nothing except humility;
let her listen to counsels; yet her own heart must decide for her--none
can know so well as herself its secret throbs, or the impression of
dislike or of regard which has been made upon it.
"I am, I confess, an enemy to trying to like a person, as I have rarely
seen such a mental process end in happiness to either party. If an
advantageous proposal offer itself, it is wiser decidedly to refuse it,
than to trust to the slow growth of affection, upon a foundation of
original dislike. And the trials of married life are such,--its
temptations to irritability and contention are so manifold, its
anxieties so unforseen and so complicated, that few can steer their
difficult course safely and happily, unless there be a deep and true
attachment, to contend with all the storms which may arise in the
navigation.
"Deeply impressed with this conviction, should it be the lot of any
young lady in whom I were interested to form a real, well-grounded
attachment to a man whose circumstances were indifferent, I should
counsel her, provided she can depend on the character and exertions of
the object so beloved, to risk the event of an engagement--to trust to
time and Providence, and to marry whenever means were afforded,--convinced
as I am, that patience, and trust, and true affection, raise the
character, and are acceptable in the eyes of our Heavenly Father. But
in such a case, she must school her mind to meet the anxieties which
attend limited means. She must prepare herself, by habits of diligence
and economy, to become a poor man's wife. She must learn the difficult
art of doing well upon a little. She must not, be she in any rank of
life, think to indulge with impunity to herself in every refinement and
luxury when she is single; and, upon her marriage, imagine that she can
attain the practice of economy by wishing it. Such metamorphoses are out
of reason--out of nature. She must endeavor before the bond which ties
her to poverty is framed, to understand the duties of housekeeping, the
mysteries of needle-work. She must lay down to herself rules of
expenditure suitable, in part, to her future condition in life. Many a
wife, thus commencing, has laid the foundations of future fortune, at
least independence, to her husband, by keeping his mind at peace, during
his progress up the steep ascent to professional, or clerical, or
literary fame. Many a home has been cheered by domestic forbearance, and
placid submission to circumstances, even in the higher classes, during
the life-time of a father, or in the course of those long expectancies,
in which the fortitude and principle of many of the aristocracy are
tried and proved. But the self-denial, the cheerfulness, the good
management, the strict principle, are formed at an earlier period than
that in which a young lady gives her hand to him whom she has chosen,
in spite of the frown of fortune, as her husband.
"Of this let the young be assured; there are few situations in life, in
which a man, young, and in health, cannot meliorate his circumstances,
if he possess energy and if he be stimulated by a true affection. The
clergyman, with humble stipend, often hopeless from want of interest,
has leisure--he has had education. He may, if he desires to assist
himself, have recourse to literary labor, or to tuition. If he make not
such exertion, during the course of an engagement, what hope can there
be of him in future life?
"The young lawyer, however tedious his advancement, however few his
opportunities, may also distinguish himself in a literary career.
Innumerable are the subjects open to one of such a profession. How few
avail themselves of the chance! Upon this rely, the man truly in love
will make the effort. To the military man, though perhaps he may be less
qualified, the same course is open, in a degree. Some of our best
travels, some of our most amusing literary productions, have been the
compositions of military men. And the advantage of this mode of aiding a
small fortune is, that a man not only does not lower, but he raises his
position by it, if his works are moral, written in a gentlemanly spirit,
and affording information. However deep the attachment, however
agreeable the object, if a man be indisposed to help himself to
independence and competence, I should counsel no woman to continue an
engagement formed in the expectation of 'times mending.' When I
advocate the indulgence of attachment, it is to worthy, not to
unworthy, objects.
"I now come to speak of moral character. Hard is the contest between
affection and expediency, when it is raised by the question of
circumstances. But harder still is it, when its result is to be decided
upon an inquiry into moral conduct. I know not a more cruel situation
than that when the heart is bestowed on one whom the judgment could not
approve. I know not one which should be more strictly guarded against,
not only by parents and friends, but (for I would impress on every young
lady how much she may prove the best guardian of her own happiness) by
the female heart itself.
"With every vigilance, with little to blame, little to repent, such
cases will occur in this world. The feelings are interested, but the
judgment distrusts. Happy is it for those who know the combat between
affection and principle only in single life, and have not the misery of
encountering so severe a destiny when it can no longer be remedied--who
know not how to fulfill the vow to honor what is proved to be
unworthy--and yet still must love,--for the affections once given, are
little in our own power.
"In such a case occurring to the young, in, perhaps, a first attachment,
I think they must be guided by friends. I am _not_ an advocate for the
interference of friends: where it is much a question of a long and
contingent engagement--a question of being married at once, or of
waiting, in some uncertainty--a question of ease or discomfort, of
limited means or luxury--in such instances, if the moral character be
unexceptionable, it is the duty of parents to point out all the risk,
all the disadvantages, but to leave the heart to form its own decisions.
Let them not seek to wrench the affections from the channel in which
they flowed, when fresh from their source. They cannot know how deep the
channel is--they cannot know if ever those pure and beautiful waters
will flow in peace again when once hastily turned aside. But in cases of
moral character, of right or wrong, the affair is wholly different, and
the strictest parental authority ought, upon due inquiry, to be
exercised.
"Submission and self-control are then the duty of the young
sufferer--for a sufferer she truly _is_;--no page of her after-history
could unfold a bitterer pang. But peace and hope come at last--the
struggle, though violent, leaves behind it none of that corroding
sorrow, which would have accompanied the acquiescence of parents in a
union unblessed by a Providence, whose will is that all should be pure,
even as He above is pure. Had your fond wishes been granted, young and
trusting being, how fearful would have been your condition! For there is
no suspicion so revolting to an innocent mind as that which unseats love
from his throne in our affections, and places another in his stead. Be
assured of this--little can you know of the moral conduct of the other
sex; little is it desirable that you should know. But whenever
improprieties are so flagrant as to be matters of conversation; when the
good shun, and the pitying forbear to excuse; be assured some deeper
cause than you can divine exists for the opprobrium. Think not that your
empire over affections thus wasted can be a real one. It is transient,
it will not last--it will not bring reformation--it will never be
adequately requited. Throw yourself on the judgment of those whose
interest in you has been life-long, or of such as you know truly regard
your happiness; conquer the unhallowed preference; pray for support and
guidance; trust in Him who 'catereth for the sparrow.'
"But, when the commencement of life is chilled by so cruel a
sorrow--when the blight has fallen on the bud--we must not only look up
to heavenly aid, we must take every means of care for an unfortunate,
and, when once the judgment is convinced of the unworthiness of the
object, a blameable attachment. How often, in the Psalms, in the
Gospels, the word 'Help' is reiterated! We are to help ourselves--we
must work for our heavenly peace on earth--the mental discipline, to
prosper, must be aided by divine grace, but its springs must be from our
own hearts. And, to fulfill the will of God in this, as in the other
events of life, let us take such means as may aid us in the work of
self-government.
"In the first place, let employment be resorted to by the sorrowing, do
not indulge in tears; do not sit alone: abstain, for a time, from music;
abstain from the perusal of poetry, or works of imagination. They still
more soften the feelings and open up the sources of grief. Read works of
_fact_--endeavor to occupy yourself with the passing events of the
world. And, when the overburdened heart cannot be comforted, or its
thoughts diverted--for there will be moments too mournful to be
resisted--go forth into the fields, go to the houses of the poor--see
the goodness and mercy of God--see too, the patience and long-suffering
of the poor, who may often set the rich an example of fortitude. Occupy
yourself, if you can, with children; their freshness, their joyful
unconsciousness, the elasticity of their spirits, will sustain and draw
you from yourself, or have recourse to the soothing calmness of the
aged. Hear them converse upon the affairs of life; how they appreciate
the importance of each passing event, as a traveler does the ruts and
inequalities of the road he has traversed. How their confidence in the
effect of time sustains you! and you turn from them, reflecting on all
that the happiest of them must necessarily have endured. Be assured of
your own recovery, under an influence so certain.
"Avoid young persons of your own age. If possible, except to a sister,
whose deep interest in you will probably teach her a superior lesson,
never confide in young friends, a similar trial as that to which I have
referred. In general, your resolution will be weakened, your feelings
re-excited, your confidence in your best advisers will be shaken. For
the young usually take the part of the rejected lover--they delight in
that dangerous species of sympathy which flatters with hope. They are
naturally incredulous as to the delinquencies of a man who is agreeable,
and in love; they incline to the notion of the hard-heartedness of
fathers, uncles, and elder brothers; and even, if they happen to possess
good sense, or to exercise the rare quality of prudence in such matters,
the very communication of any sorrow, or the recital of any feelings,
gives not only a merely temporary relief, but deadens that sorrow and
strengthens those feelings, which grow every time they are imparted. If
you wish to recover--and, if you have a sound and well-disposed mind,
you _will_ wish to recover--you must, after the first burst of grief is
over, speak but rarely of a theme too painful and delicate to bear the
contact of rude minds--too dangerous to dwell upon with those of a
kindlier and loftier nature.
"To your female relations--to your mother, more especially, too great an
openness cannot be practiced on these points, but openness does not
imply a perpetual recurrence to a theme, which must wear out patience
and exhaust all but maternal sympathy, in time. For maternal sympathy is
exhaustless; be generous, and restrain, from that very reflection, the
continual demand upon its flow. The first person to consult, the last to
afflict--a mother--should not be the victim of her daughter's feelings.
Her judgment should not be weakened by the incessant indulgence of a
daughter's sorrows.
"I would, on many grounds, caution the young against hasty engagements.
It seems extraordinary that the welfare of a life should often be
determined upon the acquaintance of a few weeks. The principles, it is
true, may be ascertained from the knowledge of others, the manners may
please, the means and expectations may all be clearly understood. But
the temper--that word of unspeakable import--the daily habits, the power
of constancy--these are not to be known without a long and severe
examination of the motives, and a daily observation of the conduct, of
others. Very little suffices to mar the happiness of married life, if
that little proceed in the character of a man, from a rooted
selfishness.
"It is true, in regard to this defect, that much may be done by a wife
to meliorate a vice of character which is, in some, only the result of
never having had their feelings developed. But if there exist not this
excuse--if, in spite of ties, which are dearer to an affectionate mind
than existence; you find a man preferring his own comfort to that of
those whom he professes to love--if you find him imperious to his
servants, dictatorial to sisters, on cool terms with brothers, there is
little hope that the mental disease will ever be rooted out, so as to
leave a healthy character of mind. Examine well into this point; for a
hasty temper may be remedied, and even endured--but the deep, slow,
sullen course of a selfish nature wears away hope, imparts a cankering
care, and, with it, often disgust. No defect is so little to be resisted
as selfishness. It creeps into every detail; it infects the minutest
affairs of life as well as the greatest concerns. It depresses the
humble sufferer from its baneful effects; it irritates the passions of
the unamiable. Study well the character in trifles; nor venture to risk
your bark on the sea of matrimony, unless you know well how far this
man, whom you might prefer, is free from this deadly infection. View
him, if possible, in his home, before you pledge your faith with
his--or, if that be not practicable, reflect upon the general course of
his actions, of his sentiments, and endeavor dispassionately to judge
them, as best you may."