She was beginning to feel horribly embarrassed. People were beginning to look. A number of the girls were beginning to nudge one another and titter. [...] Frances looked at him in mute appeal.
And then her daring, impulsive, annoying, wonderful Lucius did surely the most reckless thing he had ever done in his life. He risked everything.
"Frances," he said without even trying to lower his voice or make the moment in any way private, "my dearest love, will you do me the great honor of marrying me?"
There were gasps and squeals and shushing noises and sighs. [...]
It was the sort of marriage proposal, a distant part of Frances's brain thought, that no woman would ever dream of receiving. It was the sort of marriage proposal every woman deserved.
She bit her lip.
And then smiled radiantly.
"Oh, yes, Lucius," she said. "Yes, of course I will."
[...] everyone within hearing distance clapped. (Balogh 336-37)
That's an excerpt from Mary Balogh's Simply Unforgettable. It raised a few questions for me. In making a public proposal how has a man "risked everything"? And supposing you were a single women receiving this proposal, and you were in love with the person making it, would you
(a) feel this was "the sort of marriage proposal every woman deserved"?
(b) "feel horribly embarrassed"?
(c) feel some other emotion/have an alternative opinion?
Why?
- Balogh, Mary. Simply Unforgettable. New York: Delacorte, 2005.
The very public proposal in the photo took place on "(March 10, 2007) - Lt. Ryan Hinz proposes to Nora Awad aboard the newly commissioned ship USS New Orleans (LPD 18). Awad said yes and both were congratulated by the Secretary of the Navy (SECNAV), the Honorable Dr. Donald C. Winter." The photo came from Wikimedia Commons.
personally, i'd be royally pissed at being put on the spot like that in front of who knows how many people. but then, i'm a private sort of person, and anyone fool enough to want to marry me would be well aware of that, thus preventing me from ever being in that kind of situation. (knock on wood...people WILL get the strangest ideas...)
ReplyDeleteplus i'm just not all that romantic. *grins*
I guess the risk is embarassment for *him* if she says no. Which considering he has already embarrassed her, doesn't seem all that risky, indeed. But perhaps in the context of his character, it seems more significant. (I have read this book but several years ago, so I don't remember if the gesture worked for me or not.)
ReplyDeleteIt certainly seems odd that she should go from being publicly embarrassed to totally thrilled.
In general, I think public proposals are thoughtless. Putting someone on the spot like that and forcing them to have to think about the reactions of others during such a emotional time is not a considerate thing to do.
Oh, that was me. -- willaful
ReplyDeleteWell, at the risk of sounding incredibly old-fashioned, I consider that public displays of private matters are extremely Bad Form, and therefore vulgar. A proposal of marriage is a deeply serious question that should be private between the two people concerned.
ReplyDeleteThe public rite of passage is the wedding, where it is appropriate to involve friends and family -- though even then, not casual passers-by.
And what if the lady is not yet quite sure? The public proposal expects the answer 'yes': it would serve the bloke right if she said, 'well, I'll have to get back to you on that'. And if he is in the habit of making a public spectacle of her, she'd be wise to think very carefully.
Romantic, my left foot. It is merely childish exhibitionism.
"i'm a private sort of person, and anyone fool enough to want to marry me would be well aware of that"
ReplyDeleteWhen I thought about it a bit more, I realised that was the key to understanding the scene. I mean, if you love someone, it's probably? usually? because (at least in part) they understand and respect you and your preferences. So someone you love shouldn't do something to you that would make you upset/embarrassed. This kind of proposal obviously thrills Frances, (though it wouldn't thrill someone like you, or me, for that matter), and Lucius is right for her because he understands her preference.
However, as you point out, sometimes "people WILL get the strangest ideas" and I think they can be led astray by convention/custom into forgetting about their beloved's preferences.
It's still a bit problematic for me, though, because Frances thinks that "It was the sort of marriage proposal every woman deserved," as though every woman should want this kind of proposal. And clearly, given the responses on this thread, NOT every woman would be happy to get it.
I've come across this kind of scene before, for example in Judith Ivory's Sleeping Beauty when, in the middle of a crowded theatre James shouts out
"Coco, I want you to marry me. I don't give a-a-a flying bat what anyone says. I love you. I'm unhappy without you. No one is as-as-as real as you are to me. I am connected to you somehow, the way I'm connected to myself."
Now the place hushed. Coco rose slightly onto her toes [...], leaning slightly as if she could get closer. She couldn't have heard correctly.
"I love you," he said again. Someone cheered in the front circle [...] Coco [...] felt as if she could have flown out over the box rail, [...] then landed gently beside the handsome wonder of a man who stood beneath her box, waiting for her response. (363-64)
And there's that photo of a real, very public proposal. My impression, therefore, is that Frances's opinion that every woman deserves (and by implication wants) this kind of proposal, might be shared by quite a lot of people, including a lot of romance readers.
Ivory, Judith. Sleeping Beauty. New York: Avon, 1998.
I guess the risk is embarassment for *him* if she says no. Which considering he has already embarrassed her, doesn't seem all that risky, indeed. But perhaps in the context of his character, it seems more significant.
ReplyDeleteHe himself has said earlier that "I am frequently an impulsive, ramshackle fellow" (306) and earlier on, at a party, with everyone,
"without exception, looking expectantly at him.
"I am going to ask her to marry me," he said.
Although the drawing room floor was covered from wall to wall with a thick carpet, a pin might nevertheless have been heard to drop as he strode from the room. (285)
So the scene of the proposal isn't the first time that Lucius has (a) made a scene or (b) publicly declared his desire to marry Frances.
"It certainly seems odd that she should go from being publicly embarrassed to totally thrilled."
Yes, it seems rather odd to me, too, Willaful. She knows he wants to marry her, because (a) he's said so in the past and (b) he's just come up to her and said that "We have the blessing of every member of my family. I have not asked your great-aunts, but I would wager we have their blessing too" (336), so she can't really be in much doubt about the fact that he wants to marry her.
And it's at that point that she's "beginning to feel horribly embarrassed" but then when he makes the proposal explicit, she smiles radiantly and is evidently thrilled. So I'm puzzled and can't understand her change of attitude. I'd just stay "horribly embarrassed." Maybe, though, those of us who would hate this kind of proposal just can't understand Frances's mindset? Maybe her reactions are all perfectly understandable to readers who would also like a public proposal?
"at the risk of sounding incredibly old-fashioned, I consider that public displays of private matters are extremely Bad Form"
ReplyDeleteThat reminds me of another thing I find intriguing. Both the Balogh and the Ivory examples are from historicals, the first set during the Regency (I think) and the second during the reign of Queen Victoria. I know manners change almost constantly, but would public proposals have generally been considered Good Form in either of those periods? If so, when did they become Bad Form? And when did they cease to be Bad Form?
Sorry, don't feel any obligation to answer that barrage of questions! I've been reading Loretta Chase's account of what Almack's was really like, and it was apparently rather less decorous than Georgette Heyer might make you think. So it's made me me curious about how/when/in what way manners changed.
The proposal in Ivory's novel does take place at a theatre, so I suppose someone might cheer not because they think the action is "Good Form" but because they think it's highly entertaining.
Count me as another who dislikes public declarations of love and proposals.
ReplyDeleteWas it Heaven, Texas by SEP where he proposed publically and she turned him down? I liked that.
Wendy
I haven't read that one, Wendy. Do you think it was memorable for you because it reversed a romance-novel-convention that public proposals will be joyfully accepted? I'm not sure there is that kind of convention, but I'm beginning to wonder if there is. Or was it just that you sympathised with the heroine and felt you understood her motivation when she turned the hero down?
ReplyDeleteAs a totally unrelated aside, there's another, earlier, passage in Simply Unforgettable that made me stop and think:
"I cannot simply go away, Frances. Not until our story has been ended. I remember reading a book as a boy - an ancient tome from my grandfather's library. I became totally immersed in the story and let two perfectly decent summer days go by outdoors while I remained indoors and lapped up its contents. And then the story came to an abrupt halt - the last who-knows-how-many pages were missing. I was left feeling as if I were hanging over the edge of a cliff by my fingernails with no hope of rescue. [...] I hurled the book across the library [...] I have never forgotten my wrath and frustration. They have been rekindled lately. I like stories to have neat endings."
"We are not living within the pages of a book," she said.
"And therefore the story can end however we wish it to end," he said. "I no longer demand a happily-ever-after, Frances. It takes two to make a happy marriage, and so far we seem to have a total of one willing partner. But I do need to know why - why you have spurned me." (302)
It all seems rather metafictional given that they are "living within the pages of a book," they will get their "happily-ever-after" and the book has a "neat ending" in which all Frances's objections to the marriage are removed. In addition, the fate of Lucius's unsatisfactory book reminds me of romance-land conversations about "wallbangers."
I'd be a (B): just embarrassed. I squirm when someone proposes on a TV show - and I do always think it's unfair to the person being proposed to, because there must be a pressure to answer the 'right' way.
ReplyDeleteOTOH, my oldest daughter likes nothing better than to be the centre of attention - I must ask her if she'd find that romantic.
Public proposals in books can work for me: in Bujold's 'A Civil Campaign' after Miles spectacularly messes up his public proposal:
"Yes, ah, heh, quite, well, so, that reminds me, Madame Vorsoisson, I'd been meaning to ask you-will you marry me?"
Ekaterin saves him later in the book by propsing back in public:
'Ekaterin leaned forward, gripping the railing with her knuckles going pale. "Let's finish this. Lord Vorkosigan!"
Miles jerked in his seat, taken by surprise, "Madame?" He made a little half-bow gesture. "Yours to command..."
"Good. Will you marry me?" '
And I'm also fond of Moist Von Lipwig's proposal in Pratchett's 'Going Postal'. For reasons too complicated to explain he's grandstanding in front of a crowd, including a reporter for the Discworld's newspaper:
'Moist bowed, and as he straightened up, looked into the face of Adora Belle Dearheart.
'Will you marry me, Miss Dearheart?' he shouted.
There was an 'Oooh'from the crowd, and Sacharissa turned her head like a cat seeking the next mouse. What a shame the paper had only one front page, eh?
Miss Dearheart blew a smoke ring. 'Not yet', she said calmly. This got a mixture of cheers and boos.'
I find those both completely romantic - though in both cases, the reader knows that the person being proposed to can weather the public reaction.
"I find those both completely romantic - though in both cases, the reader knows that the person being proposed to can weather the public reaction."
ReplyDeleteAnd in both those cases the woman resists any "pressure to answer the 'right' way." Does that perhaps contribute to making you feel they're romantic? Could it be that they don't leave you feeling that the heroine's been coerced or had her power of decision diminished in any way, and they feel more romantic because of that, and/or because the heroines' refusal/ambivalent answer leaves you with a greater sense of the heroes' emotional vulnerability?
"So the scene of the proposal isn't the first time that Lucius has (a) made a scene or (b) publicly declared his desire to marry Frances."
ReplyDeleteNow this reminds me of the ending of The Duke by Gaelen Foley which has a public (fairly ridiculous) proposal. That one works (for me) because it is a deliberate breaking out of his usual character of the reserved, proper Duke who is far too good to marry the heroine. So it really works thematically - he is not only now willing to marry her, but to embarrass himself completely to prove it.
I can't get a sense, from the quoted scene, why Frances is suddenly willing to marry him after having resisted him for so long. -- willaful
Ah, most of the rules of Good Form to which some of us still adhere are of Victorian origin. Not Making a Public Spectacle of Oneself is a very important one.
ReplyDeleteThe 18th century and the Regency were a good deal less strict. I attribute the changes (and bear in mind, I am NOT a social historian of that period at all, so I may be mistaken) to the rise of the middle classes which went hand-in-hand with the effects of the Industrial Revolution.
Basically, in the 18thC society, different social classes were clearly identifiable and clearly separated in social contexts. An aristocrat remained an aristocrat, with all the advantages that entailed, however he behaved, just as a pedigree pup remains a pedigree animal, not a mongrel, even when caught piddling on the carpet. Nobody would confuse an aristocrat with a Cit, let alone a peasant, even if he were lying drunk in the gutter or making use of a lady of the night in a dark doorway.
The problem for the Victorian middle classes was the new challenge of upward mobility, of trying to understand and mimic the conduct of one's social superiors in order to enter their ranks, an ambition that had formerly been doomed to failure but which, lubricated by large amounts of money, was starting to become possible.
Thus, the elegant side of upper-class manners (rather than the lying-drunk-in-a-gutter side) became fixed as the correct, upper-class way to behave. The classes were mixing more, and therefore the ways of telling them apart were becoming blurred. Behaviour, rather than breeding, was starting to become a key factor. The Victorian period saw a general change in the perception of the temper of the English, too (I say 'English' advisedly: none of this applies in the same way to the Scots, Welsh and Irish). The 'stiff upper lip' and the whole reputation of the English as cold, reserved and unemotional is of Victorian, not pre-Victorian, origin, and it is all part of the same social development.
That's how I read it, anyway. The social mobility thing did not complete its evolution into today's world till 1945 in Britain, so it is hardly surprising that those of us who were already alive then still carry the mark of our Victorian mentors.
Willaful, thanks so much for referring to the proposal in the Duke. In both books, because of the circumstances of their courtships (with neither woman exactly fitting the mold of traditional aristocratic wife), the very public proposals were perfect, particularly because in the case of "Simply Unforgettable", Frances felt insecure ... not a lot but a tiny bit ... about whether or not she would make an appropriate wife for Lucius. He was convinced, as was his family, but she needed to have her last lingering reservations swept away in a public, openly romantic declaration of love.
ReplyDeleteIf you know the backstory, altho he's persistent (OK, Very persistent!), he also respects the love she has for teaching music to the girls at the school where she teaches. But he also goes to considerable trouble to set up a scene/opportunity where she get sing "unleashed" to an audience of music lovers in London.
What a red letter day for me: two discussions of Balogh novels! I can't say that for me I would like that kind of proposal, but for this couple, it was perfect.
"I can't get a sense, from the quoted scene, why Frances is suddenly willing to marry him after having resisted him for so long. -- willaful"
ReplyDeleteWillaful, there are some reasons that make sense in the longer term.
------Spoilers start here -------
She'd signed a contract as a singer when she was younger, but the manager holding her to the contract was exploiting her, so she left London. She'd also been blackmailed by someone else who told her that if she didn't leave London this person would reveal that Frances, although legally her father's daughter, was actually some other man's child. Eventually Frances tells Lucius these things, because he keeps insisting that he wants to marry her, and she says that she will marry him if he gets the approval of his family.
His family do give their approval, and quite a lot of them travel all the way to Bath to listen to the end of term concert Frances is organising (she's a teacher in Bath, and Lucius's family were staying in London). After the concert's over, he tells her that "The final impediment has been removed [...] We have the blessing of every member of my family. I have not asked your great-aunts, but I would wager we have their blessing too" (336).
So at that point it makes sense that she would feel able to marry him when she hadn't before, however, it's also at this point that Frances says "Lucius!" and begins "to feel horribly embarrassed" (336)
------End of spoilers ----
so I still can't understand her rapid change of emotions, from embarrassment to thinking this is "the sort of marriage proposal every woman deserved." But Lucius did think to himself earlier that "it was notoriously difficult to understand anything she did" (304) so perhaps we're just supposed to accept this change as another of her mysteries?
"That's how I read it, anyway. The social mobility thing did not complete its evolution into today's world till 1945 in Britain, so it is hardly surprising that those of us who were already alive then still carry the mark of our Victorian mentors."
ReplyDeleteAh, that explanation makes a lot of sense, Tigress. I can't ascribe my own feelings about this to Victorian mentors, though, so perhaps my response to this scene is just a reflection of my personality.
"What a red letter day for me"
I'm really glad you're enjoying the discussions, Janet!
i guess i'm a part of the minority on this one. i do think his proposal romantic and i can understand frances' change. her first initial reaction is to be embarrassed, but once she realizes what this all means, that as you have pointed out earlier, they have his blessing and she's able to accept. well then it becomes a hugely romantic gesture/ moment for her. that was my perspective anyways...it's been very interesting to read everyone's opinon. i'm actually in the process of re-reading this book and now i'll have so many different point of views when i get to that part :-)
ReplyDeleteI believe I read this one, a year or so back. I think part of the conflict, from Francis' point of view, was that she felt inferior compared to him. He was some sort of peer or lord or whatever, and she was a school teacher?
ReplyDeleteSo for someone in her position, the fact that he very publicly was asking for her hand was demonstrating that he found her worthy of his proposal. And that he was willing to risk her turning him down in public. He gave her the power in the situation.
If you're asking *me* would *I* have a problem with this proposal, the answer would be no. My husband did propose in private, but I would have been happy for him to do it in front of family and friends also. We had been talking about getting married for quite a while, and had already signed the contract to purchase a house together.
If I wasn't in love with the man, I would be mortified to have him propose in public, because I would not be comfortable turning him down in public.
In other words, its not the proposal that every woman deserves, but I thought it was appropriate for the scene and the story line where it was used.
Talking about "public proposal" scenes makes me think of movies written or directed by Richard Curtis. For example, the scene in "Love Actually" where the Colin Firth character proposes to his Portuguese sweetheart in front of her family and many diners in a restaurant (in halting Portuguese). And doesn't Hugh Grant make a declaration to Julia Roberts in front of a room full of press in Notting Hill? It's not just Curtis movies, either--this kind of thing seems to be a regular feature of romantic comedies these days on both sides of the Atlantic.
ReplyDeleteMaking a public proposal is high risk because if the hero is refused then his humiliation/ disappointment is known to the world. A public proposal is also often a "last chance" proposal plotwise--the heroine is about to marry someone else, for example, and the hero blurts out his feelings in desperation.
I also think it's seen as funny/ charming/ sweet/ poignant when an otherwise reserved hero breaks out of his usual low-key behavior and makes a public spectacle of himself.
I also think a public proposal serves to declare/ prove to the heroine that the community (as represented by the gathered crowd) will confer (sometimes hard-won) approval upon the couple--or at least, that the community's disapproval is irrelevant to the hero (perhaps especially meaningful to one of those "unequal match" heroines).
Loving this discussion as always.
i guess i'm a part of the minority on this one
ReplyDeleteJanelle, I think it's quite likely that you're just in the minority on this thread, but not in the minority elsewhere. I might be wrong about that, of course, but Phillip Vannini, who "collected approximately 300 [non-fictional] narratives of marriage proposals" (172) found that these "narratives of marriage proposals" often include an element of surprise:
"Such surprise is far from being limited to the members of the couple. The loud surprise is often a show, a spectacle staged for the amusement of an audience. Members of such an audience may include uninvolved bystanders" (173-74)
So I think that this kind of proposal must be quite frequent in real life, and so there must be plenty of people who do think it's romantic and "the sort of marriage proposal every woman deserved."
In the fictional case we're discussing, the bystanders aren't "uninvolved," and so, as you, Kristi and Rev Melinda point out, their participation is particularly important to both the hero and the heroine:
"once she realizes what this all means, that as you have pointed out earlier, they have his blessing and she's able to accept. well then it becomes a hugely romantic gesture/ moment for her. that was my perspective anyways" (Janelle)
"for someone in her position, the fact that he very publicly was asking for her hand was demonstrating that he found her worthy of his proposal" (Kristi)
"I also think a public proposal serves to declare/ prove to the heroine that the community (as represented by the gathered crowd) will confer (sometimes hard-won) approval upon the couple" (Rev Melinda)
So if I'm understanding you all correctly, the scene can and should be read as one which validates Frances publicly, and reintegrates her into (and, indeed, raises her status in) the society she was forced to leave behind in her first life, while also including members of her second, school-teacher life, so that they can participate in supporting her as she moves forwards into a third stage of her life.
It seems as though this scene, as well as being a betrothal scene, has taken on some of the properties which Pamela Regis describes as belonging to the "Wedding, Dance, or Fete":
"The emphasis here is on inclusion [...]. Society has reconstituted itself around the new couple [...] and the community comes together to celebrate this" (38)
The very last line of the novel's also interesting with regard to understanding the public/private aspect of the proposal, perhaps: "The world was welcome to share their happiness if it so chose" (343).
It makes me think that in a way the proposal, and their general sharing of their happiness, mirrors Frances' singing. Both, in a way, are performances which may bring joy to the viewer/listener. Lucius cannot sing himself, but he participates in her musical performance by stage-managing her public performance in London, and on a personal level he stage-manages the public proposal, to make public their shared happiness.
So to borrow Kristi's words, I can see how, thematically, "its not the proposal that every woman deserves, but [...] it was appropriate for the scene and the story line where it was used."
---
Regis, Pamela. A Natural History of the Romance Novel. Philadelphia: U. of Pennsylvania P., 2003.
Vannini, Phillip. "Will You Marry Me? Spectacle and Consumption in the Ritual of Marriage Proposals." Journal of Popular Culture 38:1 (2004): 169-185.
"It seems as though this scene, as well as being a betrothal scene, has taken on some of the properties which Pamela Regis describes as belonging to the "Wedding, Dance, or Fete"
ReplyDeleteI think that is important. To me, there is a very sharp dividing line between the actual proposal of marriage and its acceptance and any social event arising from it, whether the actual wedding or a previous party celebrating the betrothal. The events involving friends and family must have a public element to be fully valid: even the smallest wedding requires a registrar and a couple of witnesses, because it is a social, legal rite of passage that concerns the wider community as well as the couple.
I am reminded of a conversation I had years ago: a friend mentioned to me that another friend of hers had recently said to her, 'X and I will be getting engaged next month, and we are planning an engagement party'. My friend pointed out, absolutely correctly, that the young woman was already engaged to be married. Once the decision to marry has been taken, the couple is engaged to be married, even if they don't tell another soul. What she was alluding to was the public announcement and celebration of an existing betrothal.
"My friend pointed out, absolutely correctly, that the young woman was already engaged to be married. Once the decision to marry has been taken, the couple is engaged to be married, even if they don't tell another soul."
ReplyDeleteYes, I entirely agree with you. But I think ideas about how much publicity is required for each stage, and how binding each stage of betrothal and marriage are, has changed over time/in different periods and places. I'm relatively familiar with the conditions applying in medieval Castile (and probably other parts of medieval Europe too):
"for the Church the canonic validity of marriage was based on mutual consent and copulation. This meant that single men and women could be married secretly simply by copulating after having stated their intention to marry. The Church advised them to make their decision public, but they were not obligated to do so. These so-called secret marriages (matrimonios secretos) were licit, but by their very nature they became a source of abuse and litigation, usually initiated by abandoned women [...].
Marriage [...] required two basic steps [...], the betrothal and the formalized marriage in the Church. The betrothal was performed by a promise of future marriage (por palabras de futuro) (Alfonso X, Partida, IV.I), and marriage was completed by a promise of present marriage (por palabras de presente) followed by the wedding and Church blessing (Partida, IV.II). However, a betrothed couple living together was considered married and, therefore, bigamous if they separated and remarried. In Spain most couples started marital life after the betrothal, unconcerned with the wedding and Church ceremony, which was often delayed for years or never celebrated at all." (Lacarra Lanz 162)
Not that that's relevant to the situation in Balogh's novel, set in Regency England, of course. But I thought it might be of interest anyway.
Lacarra Lanz, Eukene. "Changing Boundaries of Licit and Illicit Unions: Concubinage and Prostitution."Marriage and Sexuality in Medieval and Early Modern Iberia. Ed. Eukene Lacarra Lanz. New York: Routledge, 2002. 158-194.
I don't have a lot to add that other commenters haven't pointed out, but the perception of risk to him inherent in the public proposal caught me.
ReplyDeleteI haven't read this book, but it seems to me that if they were playing by the normal societal rules for the period, he was in fact risking a great deal by making a public proposal.
To some extent, the opportunity to court was only allowed to ostensibly courting couples. If he proposes and is rejected in public, then correct form would dictate that encounters in future be limited and the license that had been extended to them in order to enable his proposal would have been revoked. Private proposals did not carry the same risk. In other words, if she says no in public, he may never get the chance to try again. The risk is not necessarily to him or to his ego, but to his plans.