Sketches of Young Couples
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Charles Dickens >> Sketches of Young Couples
Transcribed from the 1903 edition by David Price,
email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
SKETCHES OF YOUNG COUPLES
AN URGENT REMONSTRANCE, &c
TO THE GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND,
(BEING BACHELORS OR WIDOWERS,)
THE REMONSTRANCE OF THEIR FAITHFUL FELLOW-SUBJECT,
SHEWETH,-
THAT Her Most Gracious Majesty, Victoria, by the Grace of God of
the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen, Defender of
the Faith, did, on the 23rd day of November last past, declare and
pronounce to Her Most Honourable Privy Council, Her Majesty's Most
Gracious intention of entering into the bonds of wedlock.
THAT Her Most Gracious Majesty, in so making known Her Most
Gracious intention to Her Most Honourable Privy Council as
aforesaid, did use and employ the words--'It is my intention to
ally myself in marriage with Prince Albert of Saxe Coburg and
Gotha.'
THAT the present is Bissextile, or Leap Year, in which it is held
and considered lawful for any lady to offer and submit proposals of
marriage to any gentleman, and to enforce and insist upon
acceptance of the same, under pain of a certain fine or penalty; to
wit, one silk or satin dress of the first quality, to be chosen by
the lady and paid (or owed) for, by the gentleman.
THAT these and other the horrors and dangers with which the said
Bissextile, or Leap Year, threatens the gentlemen of England on
every occasion of its periodical return, have been greatly
aggravated and augmented by the terms of Her Majesty's said Most
Gracious communication, which have filled the heads of divers young
ladies in this Realm with certain new ideas destructive to the
peace of mankind, that never entered their imagination before.
THAT a case has occurred in Camberwell, in which a young lady
informed her Papa that 'she intended to ally herself in marriage'
with Mr. Smith of Stepney; and that another, and a very distressing
case, has occurred at Tottenham, in which a young lady not only
stated her intention of allying herself in marriage with her cousin
John, but, taking violent possession of her said cousin, actually
married him.
THAT similar outrages are of constant occurrence, not only in the
capital and its neighbourhood, but throughout the kingdom, and that
unless the excited female populace be speedily checked and
restrained in their lawless proceedings, most deplorable results
must ensue therefrom; among which may be anticipated a most
alarming increase in the population of the country, with which no
efforts of the agricultural or manufacturing interest can possibly
keep pace.
THAT there is strong reason to suspect the existence of a most
extensive plot, conspiracy, or design, secretly contrived by vast
numbers of single ladies in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and
Ireland, and now extending its ramifications in every quarter of
the land; the object and intent of which plainly appears to be the
holding and solemnising of an enormous and unprecedented number of
marriages, on the day on which the nuptials of Her said Most
Gracious Majesty are performed.
THAT such plot, conspiracy, or design, strongly savours of Popery,
as tending to the discomfiture of the Clergy of the Established
Church, by entailing upon them great mental and physical
exhaustion; and that such Popish plots are fomented and encouraged
by Her Majesty's Ministers, which clearly appears--not only from
Her Majesty's principal Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs
traitorously getting married while holding office under the Crown;
but from Mr. O'Connell having been heard to declare and avow that,
if he had a daughter to marry, she should be married on the same
day as Her said Most Gracious Majesty.
THAT such arch plots, conspiracies, and designs, besides being
fraught with danger to the Established Church, and (consequently)
to the State, cannot fail to bring ruin and bankruptcy upon a large
class of Her Majesty's subjects; as a great and sudden increase in
the number of married men occasioning the comparative desertion
(for a time) of Taverns, Hotels, Billiard-rooms, and Gaming-Houses,
will deprive the Proprietors of their accustomed profits and
returns. And in further proof of the depth and baseness of such
designs, it may be here observed, that all proprietors of Taverns,
Hotels, Billiard-rooms, and Gaming-Houses, are (especially the
last) solemnly devoted to the Protestant religion.
FOR all these reasons, and many others of no less gravity and
import, an urgent appeal is made to the gentlemen of England (being
bachelors or widowers) to take immediate steps for convening a
Public meeting; To consider of the best and surest means of
averting the dangers with which they are threatened by the
recurrence of Bissextile, or Leap Year, and the additional
sensation created among single ladies by the terms of Her Majesty's
Most Gracious Declaration; To take measures, without delay, for
resisting the said single Ladies, and counteracting their evil
designs; And to pray Her Majesty to dismiss her present Ministers,
and to summon to her Councils those distinguished Gentlemen in
various Honourable Professions who, by insulting on all occasions
the only Lady in England who can be insulted with safety, have
given a sufficient guarantee to Her Majesty's Loving Subjects that
they, at least, are qualified to make war with women, and are
already expert in the use of those weapons which are common to the
lowest and most abandoned of the sex.
THE YOUNG COUPLE
There is to be a wedding this morning at the corner house in the
terrace. The pastry-cook's people have been there half-a-dozen
times already; all day yesterday there was a great stir and bustle,
and they were up this morning as soon as it was light. Miss Emma
Fielding is going to be married to young Mr. Harvey.
Heaven alone can tell in what bright colours this marriage is
painted upon the mind of the little housemaid at number six, who
has hardly slept a wink all night with thinking of it, and now
stands on the unswept door-steps leaning upon her broom, and
looking wistfully towards the enchanted house. Nothing short of
omniscience can divine what visions of the baker, or the green-
grocer, or the smart and most insinuating butterman, are flitting
across her mind--what thoughts of how she would dress on such an
occasion, if she were a lady--of how she would dress, if she were
only a bride--of how cook would dress, being bridesmaid, conjointly
with her sister 'in place' at Fulham, and how the clergyman,
deeming them so many ladies, would be quite humbled and respectful.
What day-dreams of hope and happiness--of life being one perpetual
holiday, with no master and no mistress to grant or withhold it--of
every Sunday being a Sunday out--of pure freedom as to curls and
ringlets, and no obligation to hide fine heads of hair in caps--
what pictures of happiness, vast and immense to her, but utterly
ridiculous to us, bewilder the brain of the little housemaid at
number six, all called into existence by the wedding at the corner!
We smile at such things, and so we should, though perhaps for a
better reason than commonly presents itself. It should be pleasant
to us to know that there are notions of happiness so moderate and
limited, since upon those who entertain them, happiness and
lightness of heart are very easily bestowed.
But the little housemaid is awakened from her reverie, for forth
from the door of the magical corner house there runs towards her,
all fluttering in smart new dress and streaming ribands, her friend
Jane Adams, who comes all out of breath to redeem a solemn promise
of taking her in, under cover of the confusion, to see the
breakfast table spread forth in state, and--sight of sights!--her
young mistress ready dressed for church.
And there, in good truth, when they have stolen up-stairs on tip-
toe and edged themselves in at the chamber-door--there is Miss Emma
'looking like the sweetest picter,' in a white chip bonnet and
orange flowers, and all other elegancies becoming a bride, (with
the make, shape, and quality of every article of which the girl is
perfectly familiar in one moment, and never forgets to her dying
day)--and there is Miss Emma's mamma in tears, and Miss Emma's papa
comforting her, and saying how that of course she has been long
looking forward to this, and how happy she ought to be--and there
too is Miss Emma's sister with her arms round her neck, and the
other bridesmaid all smiles and tears, quieting the children, who
would cry more but that they are so finely dressed, and yet sob for
fear sister Emma should be taken away--and it is all so affecting,
that the two servant-girls cry more than anybody; and Jane Adams,
sitting down upon the stairs, when they have crept away, declares
that her legs tremble so that she don't know what to do, and that
she will say for Miss Emma, that she never had a hasty word from
her, and that she does hope and pray she may be happy.
But Jane soon comes round again, and then surely there never was
anything like the breakfast table, glittering with plate and china,
and set out with flowers and sweets, and long-necked bottles, in
the most sumptuous and dazzling manner. In the centre, too, is the
mighty charm, the cake, glistening with frosted sugar, and
garnished beautifully. They agree that there ought to be a little
Cupid under one of the barley-sugar temples, or at least two hearts
and an arrow; but, with this exception, there is nothing to wish
for, and a table could not be handsomer. As they arrive at this
conclusion, who should come in but Mr. John! to whom Jane says that
its only Anne from number six; and John says HE knows, for he's
often winked his eye down the area, which causes Anne to blush and
look confused. She is going away, indeed; when Mr. John will have
it that she must drink a glass of wine, and he says never mind it's
being early in the morning, it won't hurt her: so they shut the
door and pour out the wine; and Anne drinking lane's health, and
adding, 'and here's wishing you yours, Mr. John,' drinks it in a
great many sips,--Mr. John all the time making jokes appropriate to
the occasion. At last Mr. John, who has waxed bolder by degrees,
pleads the usage at weddings, and claims the privilege of a kiss,
which he obtains after a great scuffle; and footsteps being now
heard on the stairs, they disperse suddenly.
By this time a carriage has driven up to convey the bride to
church, and Anne of number six prolonging the process of 'cleaning
her door,' has the satisfaction of beholding the bride and
bridesmaids, and the papa and mamma, hurry into the same and drive
rapidly off. Nor is this all, for soon other carriages begin to
arrive with a posse of company all beautifully dressed, at whom she
could stand and gaze for ever; but having something else to do, is
compelled to take one last long look and shut the street-door.
And now the company have gone down to breakfast, and tears have
given place to smiles, for all the corks are out of the long-necked
bottles, and their contents are disappearing rapidly. Miss Emma's
papa is at the top of the table; Miss Emma's mamma at the bottom;
and beside the latter are Miss Emma herself and her husband,--
admitted on all hands to be the handsomest and most interesting
young couple ever known. All down both sides of the table, too,
are various young ladies, beautiful to see, and various young
gentlemen who seem to think so; and there, in a post of honour, is
an unmarried aunt of Miss Emma's, reported to possess unheard-of
riches, and to have expressed vast testamentary intentions
respecting her favourite niece and new nephew. This lady has been
very liberal and generous already, as the jewels worn by the bride
abundantly testify, but that is nothing to what she means to do, or
even to what she has done, for she put herself in close
communication with the dressmaker three months ago, and prepared a
wardrobe (with some articles worked by her own hands) fit for a
Princess. People may call her an old maid, and so she may be, but
she is neither cross nor ugly for all that; on the contrary, she is
very cheerful and pleasant-looking, and very kind and tender-
hearted: which is no matter of surprise except to those who yield
to popular prejudices without thinking why, and will never grow
wiser and never know better.
Of all the company though, none are more pleasant to behold or
better pleased with themselves than two young children, who, in
honour of the day, have seats among the guests. Of these, one is a
little fellow of six or eight years old, brother to the bride,--and
the other a girl of the same age, or something younger, whom he
calls 'his wife.' The real bride and bridegroom are not more
devoted than they: he all love and attention, and she all blushes
and fondness, toying with a little bouquet which he gave her this
morning, and placing the scattered rose-leaves in her bosom with
nature's own coquettishness. They have dreamt of each other in
their quiet dreams, these children, and their little hearts have
been nearly broken when the absent one has been dispraised in jest.
When will there come in after-life a passion so earnest, generous,
and true as theirs; what, even in its gentlest realities, can have
the grace and charm that hover round such fairy lovers!
By this time the merriment and happiness of the feast have gained
their height; certain ominous looks begin to be exchanged between
the bridesmaids, and somehow it gets whispered about that the
carriage which is to take the young couple into the country has
arrived. Such members of the party as are most disposed to prolong
its enjoyments, affect to consider this a false alarm, but it turns
out too true, being speedily confirmed, first by the retirement of
the bride and a select file of intimates who are to prepare her for
the journey, and secondly by the withdrawal of the ladies
generally. To this there ensues a particularly awkward pause, in
which everybody essays to be facetious, and nobody succeeds; at
length the bridegroom makes a mysterious disappearance in obedience
to some equally mysterious signal; and the table is deserted.
Now, for at least six weeks last past it has been solemnly devised
and settled that the young couple should go away in secret; but
they no sooner appear without the door than the drawing-room
windows are blocked up with ladies waving their handkerchiefs and
kissing their hands, and the dining-room panes with gentlemen's
faces beaming farewell in every queer variety of its expression.
The hall and steps are crowded with servants in white favours,
mixed up with particular friends and relations who have darted out
to say good-bye; and foremost in the group are the tiny lovers arm
in arm, thinking, with fluttering hearts, what happiness it would
be to dash away together in that gallant coach, and never part
again.
The bride has barely time for one hurried glance at her old home,
when the steps rattle, the door slams, the horses clatter on the
pavement, and they have left it far away.
A knot of women servants still remain clustered in the hall,
whispering among themselves, and there of course is Anne from
number six, who has made another escape on some plea or other, and
been an admiring witness of the departure. There are two points on
which Anne expatiates over and over again, without the smallest
appearance of fatigue or intending to leave off; one is, that she
'never see in all her life such a--oh such a angel of a gentleman
as Mr. Harvey'--and the other, that she 'can't tell how it is, but
it don't seem a bit like a work-a-day, or a Sunday neither--it's
all so unsettled and unregular.'
THE FORMAL COUPLE
The formal couple are the most prim, cold, immovable, and
unsatisfactory people on the face of the earth. Their faces,
voices, dress, house, furniture, walk, and manner, are all the
essence of formality, unrelieved by one redeeming touch of
frankness, heartiness, or nature.
Everything with the formal couple resolves itself into a matter of
form. They don't call upon you on your account, but their own; not
to see how you are, but to show how they are: it is not a ceremony
to do honour to you, but to themselves,--not due to your position,
but to theirs. If one of a friend's children die, the formal
couple are as sure and punctual in sending to the house as the
undertaker; if a friend's family be increased, the monthly nurse is
not more attentive than they. The formal couple, in fact, joyfully
seize all occasions of testifying their good-breeding and precise
observance of the little usages of society; and for you, who are
the means to this end, they care as much as a man does for the
tailor who has enabled him to cut a figure, or a woman for the
milliner who has assisted her to a conquest.
Having an extensive connexion among that kind of people who make
acquaintances and eschew friends, the formal gentleman attends from
time to time a great many funerals, to which he is formally
invited, and to which he formally goes, as returning a call for the
last time. Here his deportment is of the most faultless
description; he knows the exact pitch of voice it is proper to
assume, the sombre look he ought to wear, the melancholy tread
which should be his gait for the day. He is perfectly acquainted
with all the dreary courtesies to be observed in a mourning-coach;
knows when to sigh, and when to hide his nose in the white
handkerchief; and looks into the grave and shakes his head when the
ceremony is concluded, with the sad formality of a mute.
'What kind of funeral was it?' says the formal lady, when he
returns home. 'Oh!' replies the formal gentleman, 'there never was
such a gross and disgusting impropriety; there were no feathers.'
'No feathers!' cries the lady, as if on wings of black feathers
dead people fly to Heaven, and, lacking them, they must of
necessity go elsewhere. Her husband shakes his head; and further
adds, that they had seed-cake instead of plum-cake, and that it was
all white wine. 'All white wine!' exclaims his wife. 'Nothing but
sherry and madeira,' says the husband. 'What! no port?' 'Not a
drop.' No port, no plums, and no feathers! 'You will recollect,
my dear,' says the formal lady, in a voice of stately reproof,
'that when we first met this poor man who is now dead and gone, and
he took that very strange course of addressing me at dinner without
being previously introduced, I ventured to express my opinion that
the family were quite ignorant of etiquette, and very imperfectly
acquainted with the decencies of life. You have now had a good
opportunity of judging for yourself, and all I have to say is, that
I trust you will never go to a funeral THERE again.' 'My dear,'
replies the formal gentleman, 'I never will.' So the informal
deceased is cut in his grave; and the formal couple, when they tell
the story of the funeral, shake their heads, and wonder what some
people's feelings ARE made of, and what their notions of propriety
CAN be!
If the formal couple have a family (which they sometimes have),
they are not children, but little, pale, sour, sharp-nosed men and
women; and so exquisitely brought up, that they might be very old
dwarfs for anything that appeareth to the contrary. Indeed, they
are so acquainted with forms and conventionalities, and conduct
themselves with such strict decorum, that to see the little girl
break a looking-glass in some wild outbreak, or the little boy kick
his parents, would be to any visitor an unspeakable relief and
consolation.
The formal couple are always sticklers for what is rigidly proper,
and have a great readiness in detecting hidden impropriety of
speech or thought, which by less scrupulous people would be wholly
unsuspected. Thus, if they pay a visit to the theatre, they sit
all night in a perfect agony lest anything improper or immoral
should proceed from the stage; and if anything should happen to be
said which admits of a double construction, they never fail to take
it up directly, and to express by their looks the great outrage
which their feelings have sustained. Perhaps this is their chief
reason for absenting themselves almost entirely from places of
public amusement. They go sometimes to the Exhibition of the Royal
Academy;--but that is often more shocking than the stage itself,
and the formal lady thinks that it really is high time Mr. Etty was
prosecuted and made a public example of.
We made one at a christening party not long since, where there were
amongst the guests a formal couple, who suffered the acutest
torture from certain jokes, incidental to such an occasion, cut--
and very likely dried also--by one of the godfathers; a red-faced
elderly gentleman, who, being highly popular with the rest of the
company, had it all his own way, and was in great spirits. It was
at supper-time that this gentleman came out in full force. We--
being of a grave and quiet demeanour--had been chosen to escort the
formal lady down-stairs, and, sitting beside her, had a favourable
opportunity of observing her emotions.
We have a shrewd suspicion that, in the very beginning, and in the
first blush--literally the first blush--of the matter, the formal
lady had not felt quite certain whether the being present at such a
ceremony, and encouraging, as it were, the public exhibition of a
baby, was not an act involving some degree of indelicacy and
impropriety; but certain we are that when that baby's health was
drunk, and allusions were made, by a grey-headed gentleman
proposing it, to the time when he had dandled in his arms the young
Christian's mother,--certain we are that then the formal lady took
the alarm, and recoiled from the old gentleman as from a hoary
profligate. Still she bore it; she fanned herself with an
indignant air, but still she bore it. A comic song was sung,
involving a confession from some imaginary gentleman that he had
kissed a female, and yet the formal lady bore it. But when at
last, the health of the godfather before-mentioned being drunk, the
godfather rose to return thanks, and in the course of his
observations darkly hinted at babies yet unborn, and even
contemplated the possibility of the subject of that festival having
brothers and sisters, the formal lady could endure no more, but,
bowing slightly round, and sweeping haughtily past the offender,
left the room in tears, under the protection of the formal
gentleman.
THE LOVING COUPLE
There cannot be a better practical illustration of the wise saw and
ancient instance, that there may be too much of a good thing, than
is presented by a loving couple. Undoubtedly it is meet and proper
that two persons joined together in holy matrimony should be
loving, and unquestionably it is pleasant to know and see that they
are so; but there is a time for all things, and the couple who
happen to be always in a loving state before company, are well-nigh
intolerable.
And in taking up this position we would have it distinctly
understood that we do not seek alone the sympathy of bachelors, in
whose objection to loving couples we recognise interested motives
and personal considerations. We grant that to that unfortunate
class of society there may be something very irritating,
tantalising, and provoking, in being compelled to witness those
gentle endearments and chaste interchanges which to loving couples
are quite the ordinary business of life. But while we recognise
the natural character of the prejudice to which these unhappy men
are subject, we can neither receive their biassed evidence, nor
address ourself to their inflamed and angered minds. Dispassionate
experience is our only guide; and in these moral essays we seek no
less to reform hymeneal offenders than to hold out a timely warning
to all rising couples, and even to those who have not yet set forth
upon their pilgrimage towards the matrimonial market.
Let all couples, present or to come, therefore profit by the
example of Mr. and Mrs. Leaver, themselves a loving couple in the
first degree.
Mr. and Mrs. Leaver are pronounced by Mrs. Starling, a widow lady
who lost her husband when she was young, and lost herself about the
same-time--for by her own count she has never since grown five
years older--to be a perfect model of wedded felicity. 'You would
suppose,' says the romantic lady, 'that they were lovers only just
now engaged. Never was such happiness! They are so tender, so
affectionate, so attached to each other, so enamoured, that
positively nothing can be more charming!'
'Augusta, my soul,' says Mr. Leaver. 'Augustus, my life,' replies
Mrs. Leaver. 'Sing some little ballad, darling,' quoth Mr. Leaver.
'I couldn't, indeed, dearest,' returns Mrs. Leaver. 'Do, my dove,'
says Mr. Leaver. 'I couldn't possibly, my love,' replies Mrs.
Leaver; 'and it's very naughty of you to ask me.' 'Naughty,
darling!' cries Mr. Leaver. 'Yes, very naughty, and very cruel,'
returns Mrs. Leaver, 'for you know I have a sore throat, and that
to sing would give me great pain. You're a monster, and I hate
you. Go away!' Mrs. Leaver has said 'go away,' because Mr. Leaver
has tapped her under the chin: Mr. Leaver not doing as he is bid,
but on the contrary, sitting down beside her, Mrs. Leaver slaps Mr.
Leaver; and Mr. Leaver in return slaps Mrs. Leaver, and it being
now time for all persons present to look the other way, they look
the other way, and hear a still small sound as of kissing, at which
Mrs. Starling is thoroughly enraptured, and whispers her neighbour
that if all married couples were like that, what a heaven this
earth would be!