Successward: A Young Man's Book for Young Men

by Edward William Bok

Another point, as I hinted above, which sometimes enters into a young man's thoughts of marriage is what is called by the world the "social station" of the girl he loves. Now what is termed "social station" is a very difficult thing to define. The habit of social distinction which so many families endeavor to engender and develop in contemplated marriage is, I think, one of the most unfortunate tendencies of the times. A social aristocracy has always been impossible in America, and it is never more impossible than at the present time. We need not be extremists in our beliefs, and refuse to admit that there exist grades and classes in American society. Our social lines are sufficiently drawn for individual protection, as they rightly should be, and must be in any great nation. But for any grade of society to refuse a humane and proper recognition to a girl foreign, perhaps, to our special modes of living, is a piece of snobbery unworthy of any American family which thrives and prospers under American privileges and resources. We have in this country a class of people whose social standards are beneath contempt, and who consider it almost infectious to brush their mantles against the plainer cloaks of what they choose to call "the lower classes." We can, if we so choose, amuse ourselves in this country by believing that there is such a thing as American lineage. But when we permit this harmless amusement to become a settled belief and seriously discuss it, as I have heard it in some drawing-rooms, the matter passes out of the amusing and assumes the ridiculous. The great social strength of this country, the real substantial strength, hope, and life of this nation, lies with what is designated as the great average middle class; and from this class springs not only the mental, physical, and moral bone and sinew of this republic, but the best type of womanhood which ornaments the American home to-day. The man or woman who to-day sneers at or casts a discreditable innuendo upon that class stamps himself or herself unworthy of being classed among intelligent people.

The truest, best, and sweetest type of the American girl of to-day does not come from the home of wealth; she steps out from a home where exists comfort rather than luxuries. She belongs to the great middle class—that class which has given us the best American wifehood; which has given help-mates to the foremost American men of our time; which teaches its daughters the true meaning of love; which teaches the manners of the drawing-room, but the practical life of the kitchen as well; which teaches its girls the responsibilities of wifehood and the greatness of motherhood. These girls may not ride in their carriages, they may not wear the most expensive gowns, they may even help a little to enlarge the family income; but these girls are to-day the great bulwark of American society, not only present, but of the future. They represent the American home and what is best and truest in sweet domestic life, and they make the best wives for our American men. I have no patience with those theories that would seek to place the average American girl in any other position than that which she occupies, ornaments, and rightfully holds: the foremost place in our respect, our admiration, and our love. She is not the society girl of the day, and she is better for it. She knows no superficial life; she knows only the life in a home where husband, wife, and children are one in love, one in thoughts, and one in every action. She believes no woman to be so sweet as her mother; no man so good as her father. She believes that there are good women and true men in the world, and her belief is right. And that young man will ever be happiest who takes such a girl for his wife.

I seek not to disparage the home life of the wealthy of our land. Some of my best friends live in homes of luxury, are deemed by the world wealthy and fortunate, and the atmosphere of their homes is as pure and elevating as is their family life representative of every element that makes good women and men. Nor have I one word to say against honest ancestral pride. On the contrary, I believe in it. I think if we had more of it in this country it would be better. It is one of the greatest stimulants to a young man to know that he comes of a good family and that he is expected to so carry himself as to add respect and pride to the name of his family. A good family name is one of the strongest safeguards to a young man's respectability. We cannot underestimate the value of heredity. We should be proud of an honorable ancestry. But we should not boast of it, or use it to a detrimental comparison of the ancestry of others. That spirit is vulgar; certainly it is un-American.

Nor should any of us, who have been a little more favored with this world's goods, refuse to recognize good in those not possessed of equal possessions. I care not how tenderly the favored son of a wealthy home may have been reared; with what care and precision his mental and moral development may have been guarded and watched; what hopes may be centered in him: I will match his worth any hour of the day with a girl from a plainer home and of lesser advantages. "But her social position?" the proud mother asks. Social station? What is social station? So long as a girl is respectable, so long as she is good, so long as she is a loving, tender, and true woman, by what social standard can she be measured? What right have we to apply superficial standards to worth and character? What comparison can a social standard bear to the highest standard of morality, to good womanhood, to the best wifehood, to the truest conception of motherhood? Is the girl in an office less of a woman than the girl who rides in her carriage? Is she less capable of making a good wife? Why do we marry? To please society? To uphold social standards as false as they are mythical? False pride has made enough trouble in this world without letting it bring grief into our homes. Let the young men of this country be sufficiently broad-minded not to measure a girl by her surroundings, but to judge her for herself. True worth lasts longer and wears to the end. The loving heart of a good girl is better than all the wealth and social accomplishments which she can bring to a man. It is something that comes back to a man three hundred and sixty-five times in a year. We can get along with a little money in this world if we will; but love is a quality of which we can scarce have too much.

And when the conditions are reversed, and the young man's income or financial possessions are taken into account, the same general principle is true. There is not a more cruel standard by which to measure a young man than the position he is able to offer the girl of his choice. I am not an advocate of the "love-in-a-cottage" theory by any means; but I do believe in the good old-fashioned theory of a young couple starting out in the world with a moderate income, and then climbing upward together. I know this sounds visionary, and like the sort of reading we find in stories; but the truth is there just the same. I give it as my earnest conviction that a young girl will be far safer in the hands of a young man born of parents in moderate circumstances, honest in his principles, energetic and industrious, than she would with a young man who has known only the luxuries of life, and to whom work is an incidental matter rather than the aim and purpose of life. I do not care how poor a young man may be; if he has good health, sound principles, is respectful of sacred things, is temperate in his habits, and is not afraid to work, and work hard, and face the world with a determination to succeed, that young man can be trusted with the best and sweetest girl ever reared in an American home.

At the same time I believe that no young man has a right to ask a girl to be his wife until he has reached a certain point in his life. And I would apply this both to his age and to his prospects. As to age, I think a young man should wait until he is at least twenty-five before he marries. Before that time his impressions and his fancies are apt to be fleeting. He drifts and flounders in almost everything he does—wife-choosing included—before he is twenty-five. He himself rarely knows what he wants in anything. He does not know the world nor its people. He may think he does—a young man between eighteen and twenty-five generally does—but he does not all the same. It requires him to reach and pass the twenty-five-year period to find out how little he knew before. After he passes twenty-five he begins to learn, and from that time things come to have a meaning to him. The difference before and after this twenty-five-year period is that before he is twenty-five he wonders that he is so much more mature than others and knows so much; while after he passes twenty-five he wonders that he is so immature and knows so little. And when a young man reaches that point where he is convinced that he knows very little, then his time of learning commences. Young men generally think they know "a great deal about girls" when they are twenty-one, and can easily choose a wife. But the wisdom of twenty-one on that point is a little slippery, and I would advise no young man to test it.

Then, too, a young man has no conception of his capabilities before he reaches twenty-five. He has no fixed purpose in mind; he has no idea what he is capable of doing; he does not know the business world nor its chances. He has had no opportunity of showing his employers his capacity to fill a more important position. He has, therefore, no practical idea of his prospects, and he can form none. The period between the ages of twenty and twenty-five is the formative period in his life, and during that time it is better that he has no additional responsibilities upon him other than his own struggles will demand. But when he reaches twenty-five he generally begins to develop. His opinions on matters begin to be listened to—casually, it is true, at first, but they command attention, nevertheless, where formerly they were ignored, and justly so. From this time his career begins, and he can, with a greater degree of accuracy, decide for himself whether he can ask the girl of his choice to share his life with him. Between twenty-five and thirty a young man should, if he hopes to amount to anything, choose his path in life and test his capabilities. And then it is that the love of a good wife and her counsel will mean everything to him. If we look at current statistics we find at once that the greater majority—I think it is something like seventy per cent.—of our young men are marrying between twenty-five and thirty, with a leaning toward the latter age. Years ago it was different, and the marrying age for young men was between twenty-two and twenty-five.

But, likewise, a young man cannot afford to wait too long in this question of marriage; and when I say too long I mean beyond the age of thirty. After a man passes thirty years his habits are very likely to become fixed, and from that time it will be harder for him each year to tear away from his bachelor habits. For marriage demands a few sacrifices from a man, and he must be prepared to meet them, just as the girl gives up many of her girlish pleasures. Marriage is not a lark, as some young people are apt to suppose, and it should not be entered into just for the fun of the thing, nor for the sake of being married. Better is it for a young man never to marry than to marry simply for the sake of marrying, or because he feels that he is getting along in years.

There is only one safe rule for a young man to follow in this whole question of marriage, and it solves the problem of the girl and the age: wait until the right girl comes along and then marry her. But, if possible, don't marry her this side of twenty years, and don't you marry this side of twenty-five.

Regarding the question of engagements, I believe thoroughly in their short duration. This whole question of matrimonial engagements might be changed somewhat by young people themselves, and to their own benefit. In many cases the young become engaged too soon, and then they are restless because they cannot marry; whereas, if the period of acquaintanceship were made longer, and the engagement time shorter, things would be much improved. Long engagements are never advisable; in fact, they are bad from every point of view; long periods of acquaintance previous to an engagement are far better. So far as actually knowing each other is concerned—well, for that matter, what woman has ever known a man until after she is married to him, or what man has ever known a woman?