Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2215 page)

However, it is useless to speculate on what might happen if the oppressive laws of courtship were relaxed for no such welcome event is likely to take place. It will be more to the purpose, perhaps, if I venture on introducing a little practical suggestion of my own, which struck me while I was meditating on my unhappy position, which involves no sweeping change in the manners and customs of the age, and which, so far as I know, has never made its appearance in print before.

I am informed, by persons of experience in the world of letters (about which I myself know nothing), that the ladies of the present century have burst into every department of literature, have carried off the accumulated raw material from under the men’s noses, and have manufactured it to an enormous and unheard-of extent for the public benefit. I am told that out of every twelve poems or novels that are written, nine at least are by ladies; that they write histories, in six or eight volumes, with great ease and satisfaction to themselves, while the men can only compass the same achievements with extreme difficulty, in one or two volumes; and that they are perpetually producing books of Travel, which are all about themselves and their own sensations, without the slavish fear of that possible imputation of self-conceit, which so often lurks in the more timid bosom of man. I am particularly rejoiced to hear of this, because my suggestion involves nothing less than the writing of one gigantic book by all the ladies of Great Britain put together. What I propose is a Hand Book of Courtship, written by all British Wives, and edited, with notes, by all British Daughters.

The magnitude of my own idea absolutely takes away my breath and yet, the execution of it is so unimaginably easy that the Hand Book might be ready for publication in six months time. I propose that every Married Lady in the country shall write down the exact words (for surely her affectionate heart must remember them?) which her husband used when he made his offer to her; and that she shall then add to the interesting report of the offer, illustrative particulars of the circumstances under which it was made, and of the accompanying actions (if any) by which the speaker emphasised the all-important words as they fell from his lips. I would have the Returns, thus prepared, collected as the Income Tax Papers are, with the most extreme care and the most honourable secrecy. They should be afterwards shuffled together in baskets, and distributed, one by one, just as they happened to turn up, among the Unmarried Ladies of the country, with the following brief formula of two questions attached; First. Would the form of offer presented herewith, have proved to be a satisfactory one, in your case? And, if not, will you state in what particulars you think it might be improved? Second. Would the accompanying actions by which the offer was pressed on the kind attention of the individual addressed, have specially inclined you to favour it with a suitable reply? And, if not, what improvements, in the way of addition or suppression, would you be disposed, in the strictest confidence, to suggest? When the necessary answers to these questions had been given, I would have the Papers again collected, on the same Income Tax principle; and would immediately set the printers at work. The Married Ladies’ Returns should form the text, and the Unmarried Ladies’ Returns should be added in the form of notes. No names or addresses should appear anywhere. The book should be bound in virgin white, with orange-flower decorations on the back. It should be printed in rose-coloured ink, and it should be issued to the world from a publishing-house established for the purpose in Doctors’ Commons.

What an inestimable bachelor’s Manual this would be! What a circulation it would have among all classes! What a delightful sense of confidence it would awaken in the mind of the diffident male reader! How could any man go wrong, with the Hand Book to refer to, before he committed him self to a positive course of action? If I had such a book within my reach at this moment, I might look out, and learn, the form of offer which I felt to be most suitable in my own case; might discover and correct its little human imperfections, by reference to the critical notes appended to it; and might become a happy accepted man (if I could depend upon my memory) by to-morrow at latest. How many other men might enjoy the same benefit, if the practical results of the experience of others were thus placed at their disposal how many extra marriages might be solemnised in the course of the first year after the publication of the Hand Book, I cannot presume to say. I can only point to the serious necessity that there is for bringing out the great work that I have proposed, I can only implore the ladies to undertake it, in consideration of the literary honour and glory which it would confer upon the whole sex.

In the meantime, here I am, shyly hovering round my fate, and helplessly ignorant how to rush in and close with it, at once and for ever. If I could feel sure that the Bachelor’s Manual was likely to be soon produced, I might, perhaps, manage to wait for it. But, in the absence of any positive information on this subject, I feel that I must make up my mind to do something desperate immediately. A spoken explanation of my feelings, unless I could manage to catch my young woman in the dark, being, in my case, manifestly out of the question, I suppose I must bashfully resign myself, after all, to the alternative of writing. In the event of my mustering courage enough to compose the letter, and to send it off when done, the question is, How had I better behave myself, when the inevitable embarrassment of the first meeting with her comes afterwards? Shall I begin with words, or begin with actions? Or, to be plainer still, which shall I address first, her waist or her mind? Will any charitable married lady kindly consider my especial weakness of disposition, and send me privately one word of advice as to which of these two delicate alternatives it will be safest for me to adopt?

Taken from
Household Words
20 March 1858

IN the last week’s number of this journal (to which I have grave objections, but which I read regularly for the purpose of exercising my critical ability as a finder of faults), there appeared an extremely absurd confession of weakness, called, “A Shy Scheme.” The writer of the confession, not satisfied with exposing himself to public contempt, in the character of a Shy Young Man, was so obliging as to enter into details on the subject of his manners, his place of residence, and his personal appearance. I am about to give this feeble visionary a word of advice, and I am not at all afraid of being quite as particular as he has been, in describing myself at the outset. If my memory serves me, the Shy Young Man informed us all that his residence was in the country, that his hair was light, that his cheeks were rosy, that his stature was small, that his manners were mild, and that his name was Koddle. In reply, I have no hesitation in avowing that my residence is in London, that my hair is dark, that my cheeks are swarthy, that my stature is gigantic, that my manners are surly, and that my name is Grump. I have further to add, in opposition to the Shy Young Man, that I have the strongest possible antipathy to being settled in life; and that, if I thought either of my eyes were capable of fixing itself on a young woman, I would shut that eye up, by an effort of will, henceforth and for ever. I don’t say this is good writing; but I call it straightforward common sense. If any man is bold enough to contradict me, I should like to meet him outside the office of this journal, at an hour of the morning when the street is tolerably empty, and the policeman happens to be at the opposite extremity of his beat.

How do I propose to enlighten and fortify the Shy Young Man? I intend to teach him the results of my own experience. If he has one grain of sense in his whole composition, he may profit by the lesson, and may step out of the absurd situation in which he has now placed himself. I have not the slightest feeling of friendship for this imbecile person. It is merely a little whim of mine to try if I cannot separate him from his young woman. I see his young woman in my mind’s eye, even from his miserable description of her. Complexion of the colour of cold boiled veal, white eyelashes, watery eyes, red hands with black mittens on them, raw elbows, sickly smile, form plump and shapeless, kicks her gown when she walks,
 
stiff in the back-bone when she sits down, and embarrassed by her own legs when she gets up. I know the sort of girl, and I detest her. If I can make her sweetheart look at her with my unprejudiced eyes, I shall have accomplished my object to my own entire satisfaction. This is, perhaps, not a gallant way of expressing myself. Never mind that. There is plenty of gallant writing at the present time, for those who want to be flattered. Let the women take a little rudeness now, by way of a change.

Would anybody think that I was once a lady’s man? I was, and, what is more, I was once in love, was once anxious to be settled in life, was once on the point of making an offer. I had settled how to do it, when to do it, where to do it. Not the slightest doubt of success crossed my mind. I believed then, as I believe now, that any man may win any woman, at any time, and under any circumstances. If I had been rejected the first time, I would have proposed again. If I had been rejected a second time, I would have proposed again. If I had been rejected a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth time, I would have proposed again and again and again and again, and I should have ended by carrying my point. I knew that, and yet, at the eleventh hour, I shrank from making my offer. What altered my resolution? A book. Yes, that very Bachelor’s Manual, which the Shy Young Man is so anxious to lay his hand on, was the awful warning that stopped me, in the nick of time, from the insanity of investing myself in a matrimonial speculation. I tell Mr. Koddle that the sort of book he wants has been in existence for years; and I ask his best attention to a narrative of the effect which that publication had upon my mind, when I was young enough and weak enough to allow myself to fall in love.

It was on a Monday morning that I first said to myself (while shaving), “I’ll make that woman promise to marry me on Wednesday next, at from half-past one to a quarter to two P.M.” Later in the day, a friend came to see me. He remarked the more than usual radiant and agreeable expression of my countenance.

“You look as if you were going out courting” said he.

“I think of putting my foot in it, for the first time, on Wednesday next,” said I.

“Would you object to my making you a little present?” said he.

“No, I shouldn’t,” said I.

He took his leave. An hour afterwards, a very small, very thin, very square, parcel arrived for me. I opened it, and found a book inside, called The Etiquette of Courtship and Matrimony. I read the book on the spot. The effect of it was, first, to fill me with feelings of the deepest gratitude towards the friend who had sent it to me as a joke; and, secondly, to inspire me with such a horror of Courtship and Matrimony, that I instantly gave up all idea of making my proposed offer, and resolved to consult my own convenience, by preserving a bachelor’s freedom to the end of my days.

To state the proposition, generally, at the outset, I assert that the whole end and object of the Etiquette of Courtship and Matrimony is to insult, persecute, and degrade the bridegroom. I first became satisfied of this disgraceful fact at page thirty-six of the Hand Book or Manual. In the earlier part of the volume it was assumed that I had fallen in love, had made my offer, and had been accepted by my young woman and her family. Etiquette is hard on my heels all through those preliminary processes, and finally runs me down as soon as I appear in the character of an engaged man. My behaviour in my future wife’s company is of the last importance and there Etiquette has me, and never lets me go again. “In private,” says the Manual, “the slightest approach to familiarity must be avoided, as it will always be resented by a woman who deserves to be a wife.” So! I may be brimming over with affection; I may even have put on a soft waistcoat expressly for the purpose; but I am never to clasp my future wife with rapture to my bosom; I am never to print upon her soft cheek a momentary impression of the pattern of my upper shirt-stud! She is to keep me at arm’s length, in private as well as in public and I am actually expected to believe, all the time, that she is devotedly attached to me! First insult.