How does the poem go?...Spring is in the air and a young man's thoughts turn to love... Well, it's April and here in Kansas, it's definitely springtime. We looked at love in February and discussed the advantages of marriage in March, but where does it all begin? In the home, when they are young.

A young man or young woman will view marriage through the kaleidoscope of images portrayed by their parents and the other adults around them. How do our marriages shape up? Will my daughters desire marriage to a godly young man because they saw the tender treatment given to me by their father? Will they want marriage, that closest of fellowship, because what they saw in the home was a thing of beauty?

And then, after they are married, how will they treat their spouses? And how will that young man treat them? Here again, the answer lies in the home, when they were young.

It has always pained me to see how boys and girls treat each other, particularly when they reach the age of 8 or 9. Before this time, they may have been the best of buddies, but now, that friend may be the object of greatest ridicule. I still remember the pain my daughter went through when her best friend, a little boy her age, began to ridicule every thing she said, every action she committed. And why? Because he felt the pressure from his friends to behave in this more "manly" way, and his parents did not counsel him to stand for what was right.

Do you recall that famous advertising motto from the 1970's, "We've come a long way, baby." We certainly have, but was it the better way? Where have the days gone when a gentleman stood up when a lady entered the room, when a young man held the door for his mother or sister? And how were we Christians beguiled by the world to travel that road with them? I believe it's because we parents have not spent the time to teach or model that gentle behavior that was so much a part of our culture in the past: the tender respect every man paid to every lady. Boys are simply not taught that that little girl who is the object of ridicule might have been the bud that would have blossomed into a godly wife for them.

Recently, our home was graced by a visit from a Christian gentleman, his wife and his mother. When our guests departed, we asked our daughters their opinion of this first meeting. Our older daughter commented, "Did you see how he treated his wife?" Yes, indeed we had noticed the way he held her chair for her when she sat down, the assistance he rendered when it was time to put on her coat, the gracious way he served his 91-year old mother at the dinner table. Did all of this make the gentleman unmanly? Certainly not, it was these very actions which made him more manly.

This month we have a series of articles to offer:
The True Gentleman
Young Men and Matrimony

from

Stepping Stones, or Aids to a Successful Life

by

T. L. Haines and L. W. Yaggy
1911

The True Gentleman

When you have found a man, you have not far to go to find a gentleman. You cannot make a gold ring out of brass. You cannot change a Cape May crystal to a diamond. You cannot make a gentleman till you first find a man.

To be a gentleman it is not sufficient to have had a grandfather. To be a gentleman does not depend on the tailor or the toilet. Blood will degenerate. Good clothes are not good habits.

A gentleman is a man who is gentle. Titles, graceful accomplishments, superior culture, princely wealth, great talents, genius, do not constitute a man with all the attributes needed to make him a gentleman. He may be awkward, angular, homely, or poor, and yet belong to the uncrowned aristocracy. His face may be bronzed at the forge or bleached in the mill, his hand huge and hard, his patched vest, like Joseph's coat of many colors, and he may still be a true gentleman, for he depends upon dress and not upon his honor and virtue, for his passport to the best circles of society. "The man who has no money is poor, he who has nothing but money is poorer than he," and is not a gentleman. Some of the most distinguished men in the world of letters, in the world of art, have been unamiable, gross, vulgar, ungentle, consequently not gentlemen.

The union of gentleness of manners with firmness of mind are noticeable in the true gentleman. When in authority, and having a right to command, his commands are delivered with mildness and gentleness, and willingly obeyed. Good breeding is the great object of his thoughts and actions, and he observes carefully the behavior and manners of those who are thus distinguished.

It is a wrong notion which many have, that nothing more is due from them to their neighbors than what results from a principle of honesty, which commands us to pay our debts, and forbids us to do injuries; whereas a gentleman gains the esteem of all by a thousand little civilities, complacencies, and endeavors to give others pleasure.

He is careful to have thoughts and sentiments worthy of him, as virtue raises the dignity of man, while vice degrades him. True greatness lies in the heart; it must be elevated by aspiring to great things; and by daring to think himself worthy of them. Others may attract us through the splendor of some special faculty, or the eminency of some special virtue, but in his case it is the whole individual we admire and love, and the faculty takes its peculiar character, the virtue acquires its subtile charm, because considered as an outgrowth of the beautiful, beneficent, and bounteous nature in which it had its root. He insults not the poor with condescension, nor courts the rich with servility, but takes his place on an easy equality and fraternity with all, without the pretense of being the inferior of any.

There is true dignity in labor, and no true dignity without it. He who looks down scornfully on labor is like the man who had a mouth and no hands, and yet made faces at those who fed him - mocking the fingers that brought bread to his lips. He who writes a book, or builds a house, or tills a farm, or follows any useful employment, lives to some purpose, and contributes something to the fund of human happiness.

Garibaldi, the greatest hero of the age, is a working man. Daniel Webster knit his iron frame into strength by working on his father's farm when young.

A gentleman is a human being, combining a woman's tenderness with a man's courage. He is just a gentleman: no more, no less; a diamond polished that was first a diamond in the rough. A gentleman is gentle. A gentleman is modest. A gentleman is courteous. A gentleman is slow to take offense, as being one who never gives it. A gentleman is slow to surmise evil, as being one who never thinks it. A gentleman subjects his appetites. A gentleman refines his taste. A gentleman subdues his feelings. A gentleman controls his speech. A gentleman deems every other better than himself.

Sir Philip Sydney was never so much of a gentleman - mirror though he was of English knighthood - as when, upon the field of Zutphen, as he lay in his own blood, he waived the draught of cool spring water that was to quench his dying thirst, in favor of a dying soldier.

St. Paul describes a gentleman when he exhorted the Philippian Christians: "Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think of these things." And Dr. Isaac Barlow, in his admirable sermon on the callings of a gentleman, pointedly says: "He should labor and study to be a leader unto virtue, and a notable promoter thereof; directing and exciting men thereto by his exemplary conversation; encouraging them by his countenance and authority; rewarding the goodness of meaner people by his bounty and favor; he should be such a gentleman as Noah, who preached righteousness by his words and works before a profane world."

One very frequently hears a remark made, that such and such a man "can be a gentleman when he pleases." Now whn our reader next hears this expression made use of, let him call to mind the following: He who "can be a gentleman when he pleases," never pleases to be anything else. A gentleman, like porcelain ware, must be painted before he is glazed. There can be no change after the burning in.

The sword of the best-tempered metal is the most flexible. So the truly generous are the most pliant and courteous in their behavior to their inferiors.

The true gentleman is one whose nature has been fashioned after the highest models. His qualities depend not upon fashion or manners, but upon moral worth - not on personal possessions, but on personal qualities. The psalmist briefly describes him as one "that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart."

The gentleman is eminently distinguished by his self-respect. He values his character - not so much of it only as can be seen by others, but as he sees it himself, having regard for the approval of his inward monitor. And, as he respects himself, so, by the same law, does he respect others. Humanity is sacred in his eyes, and thence proceed politeness and forbearance, kindness and charity.

The true gentleman has a keen sense of honor - scrupulously avoiding mean actions. His standard of probity in word and action is high. He does not shuffle nor prevaricate, dodge nor skulk; but is honest, upright, and straitforward, His law is rectitude - action in right lines. When he says yes, it is a law; and he dares to say the valient no at the fitting season. The gentleman will not be bribed; only the low-minded and unprincipled will sell themselves to those who are interested in buying them.

Riches and rank have no necessary connection with genuine gentlemanly qualities. The poor man may be a true gentleman - in spirit and in daily life. He may be honest, truthful, upright, polite, temperate, courageous, self-respecting and self-helping - that is, be a true gentleman. The poor man with a rich spirit is in all ways superior to the rich man with a poor spirit. To borrow St. Paul's words, the former is as "having nothing, yet possessing all things," while the other, though possessing all things, has nothing. The first hopes everything and fears nothing; the last hopes nothing and fears everything. Only the poor in spirit are really poor. He who has lost all, but retains his courage, cheerfulness, hope, virtue and self-respect, is a true gentleman.

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Young Men and Matrimony

A young man meets a pretty face in the ball-room, falls in love with it, courts it, marries it, goes to housekeeping with it, and boasts of having a home and a wife to grace it. The chances are, nine to ten, that he has neither. He has been "taken in and done for!" Her pretty face gets to be an old story, or becomes faded, or freckled, or fretted, and as the face was all he wanted, all he paid attention to, all he sat up with, all he bargained for, all he swore to love, honor and protect, he gets sick of his trade, knows of a dozen faces he likes better, gives up staying at home evenings, consoles himself with cigars, oysters and politics, and looks upon his home as a very indifferent boarding-house.

Another young man becomes enamored of a "fortune." He waits upon it to parties, dances a polka with it, exchanges billets doux with it, pops the quesiton to it, gets accepted by it, takes it to the parson, weds it, calls it "wife," carries it home, sets up an establishment with it, introduces it to his friends, and says he, too, is married and has got a home. It is false. He is not married; he has no home. And he soon finds it out. He is in the wrong box; but it is too late to get out of it; he might as well hope to get out of his coffin. His friends congratulate him, and he has to grin and bear it.

If a young man would escape these sad consequences, let him shun the rocks upon which so many have made shipwreck. Let him disregard, totally, all considerations of wealth, beauty, external accomplishments, fashion, connections in society, and every other mere selfish and worldly end, and look into the mind and heart of the woman he thinks of marrying. If he cannot love her for herself alone - that is, for all that goes to make up her character as a woman - let him disregard every external inducement, and shun a marriage with her as the greatest evil to which he could be subjected. And if he have in him a spark of virtuous feeling - if he have one unselfish and generous emotion - he will shun such a marriage for the woman's sake also, for it would be sacrificing her happiness as well as his own.

From what is here set forth every young man can see how vitally important it is for him to make his choice in marriage from a right end. Wealth cannot bring happiness, and is ever in danger of taking to itself wings; beauty cannot last long where there is grief at the heart; and distinguished connections are a very poor substitute for the pure love of a true woman's heart.

All that has been said refers to the ends which should govern in the choice of a wife. Directions as to the choice itself can only be of a general character, for the circumstances surrounding each one, and the particular circles into which he is thrown, will have specific influences, which will bias the judgment either one way or another. One good rule it will, however, be well to observe, and that is, to be on your guard against those young ladies who seek evidently to attract your attention. it is unfeminine and proves that there is something wanting to make up the perfect woman. In retiring modesty you will be far more apt to find the virtues after which you are seeking. A brilliant belle may make a loving, faithful wife and mother; but the chances are somewhat against her, and a prudent young man will satisfy himself well by a close observation of her in private and domestic life before he makes up his mind to offer her his hand.

There are many, too many, finely educated young ladies who can charm you with their brilliance of intellect, their attainments in science and literature, or their music, who know not the rudiments of how to make a home comfortable and inviting. Some will frankly confess it, with sorrow, others boast of this ignorance as something to be proud of. How many such women marry and make an utter failure of life. They make a wreck of their husband's happiness, of the home he has doted on, of his fortune, and, alas, too often of his character, and his soul's interest. You see them abroad, and are delighted to have made their acquaintance, but you find their homes slipshod homes, sadly contrasting with the really cultivated manners and mind which so attracted you.

When you see the avaricious and crafty taking companions to themselves without any inquiry but after farms and money, or the giddy and thoughtless uniting themselves for life to those whom they have only seen by the light of gas or oil; when parents make matches for children without inquiring after their consent; when some marry for heirs to disappoint their brothers, and others throw themselves into the arms of those whom they do not love, because they found themselves rejected where they were more solicitous to please; when some marry because their servants cheat them; some because they squander their own money; some because their houses are pestered with company; some because they will live like other people; and some because they are sick of themnselves, we are not so much inclined to wonder that marriage is sometimes unhappy, as that it appears so little loaded with calamity, and cannot but conclude that society has something in itself eminently agreeable to human nature, when we find its pleasures so great that even the ill-choice of a companion can hardly overbalance them. Those, therefore, of the above description who should rail against matrimony should be informed that they are neither to wonder nor repine, that a contract begun on such principles has ended in disappointment. A young man and a dear friend once said, "I am going to take her for better or for worse." The remark ran over me like a chill breath of winter. I shuddered at the thought. "For better or for worse." All in doubt. Going to marry, yet not sure he was right. The lady he spoke of was a noble young woman, intellectual, cultivated, pious, accustomed to his sphere of life. They were going to marry in uncertainty. Both were of fine families; both excellent young people. To the world it looked like a desirable match. To them it was going to be "for better or for worse." They married. The woman stayed in his home one year and left it, declaring he was a good man and a faultless husband, but not after her heart. She stayed away one year and came back; lived with him one year more and died. Sad tale. It proved for the worse, and all becasue they did not know each other; if they had they would not have married.

Marriage is the seal of man's earthly weal or woe. No event is to be compared with this for its interest and its immeasurable results. Why are so many unhappy in this union, never indeed truly married? Because they rush into its sacred temple, either deluded or unsanctified by God and good principles. They sin in haste, and are left to repent at leisure. Custom, convenience, proximity, passion, vicious novels, silly companions, intoxicate the brain; and that step is taken without one serious thought, which death only can retrieve.

Robert Southey says: "A man may be cheerful and contented in celibacy, but I do not think he can ever be happy; it is an unnatural state, and the best feelings of his nature are never called into action. The risks of marriage are for the greater part on the woman's side. Women have so little the power of choice that it is not perhaps fair to say that they are less likely to choose well than we are; but I am persuaded that they are more frequently deceived in the attachments they form, and their opinions concerning men are less accurate than men's opinion of their sex. Now, if a lady were to reproach me for having said this, I should only reply that it was another mode of saying there are more good wives in the world than there are good husbands, which I verily believe. I know of nothing which a good and sensible man is so certain to find, if he looks for it, as a good wife."

Who marries for love takes a wife; who marries for the sake of convenience takes a mistress; who marries for consideration takes a lady. You are loved by your wife, regarded by your mistress, tolerated by your lady. You have a wife for yourself, a mistress for your house and its friends, and a lady for the world. Your wife will agree with you, your mistress will accommodate you, and your lady will manage you. Your wife will take care of your household, your mistress of your house, your lady of appearance. If you are sick, your wife will nurse you, your mistress will visit you, and your lady will inquire after your health. You take a walk with your wife, a ride with your mistress, and join partners with your lady. Your wife will share your grief, your mistress your money, and your lady your debts. If you are dead, your wife will shed tears, your mistress lament, and your lady wear mourning. A year after death marries again your wife, in six months your mistress, and in six weeks or sooner, when mourning is over, your lady.

Men and women, before marriage, are as figures and ciphers. The woman is the cipher and counts for nothing until she gets the figure of a husband beside her, when she becomes of importance herself and adds tenfold to the sum of his. But this, it must be observed, occurs only when she gets and remains on the right side of him, for when she shifts from this position, he returns to his lesser estate, and she to her original insignificance.

Marriage offers the most effective opportunities for spoiling the life of another. Nobody can debase, harass and ruin a woman so fatally as her own husband, and nobody can do a tithe so much to chill a man's aspirations, to paralyze his energies, as his wife. A man is never irretrievably ruined in his prospects until he marries a bad woman. The Bible tells us that, as the climbing a sandy way is to the feet of the aged, so is a wife full of words to a quiet man. A cheerful wife is a rainbow in the sky when her husband's mind is tossed on the storms of anxiety and care. A good wife is the greatest earthly blessing. A man is what his wife makes him. Make marriage a matter of moral judgment. Marry in your own religion. Marry into different blood and temperament from your own. Marry into a family which you have long known.

Husbands and wives of different religious persuasions do not generally live happily. When the spiritual influences are antagonistic, the conjugal union is not complete, for it lacks the unity essential to the fulfillment of serious obligations, and there is an entire absence of that sound and reciprocated confidence - that mutual faith, which, although their roots be in the earth, have their branches in the sky of affection. The subject is painful, and however we may wound the susceptibilities of apparently fond lovers - we say apparently advisedly, for there can be no real love where there is "no silver cord to bind it" - we unhesitatingly express the opinion that marriages between persons who do not tread in the same religious path are whollly unadvisable - nay, wrong - for they tend to invite a future teeming with shadows, clouds, and darkness.

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