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                  <text>22

SELF-D EPEKDENt,F •

23

SELF-DEPENDENCE.

ness, coarseness) strong -mindednesaJ down to the
lowest depth of bloomerism, cigarette -smoking)
and talking slang.
CHAPTER

And there are many good reason s, ingrained

II.

in the very tenderest

core of womanJs nature)

why this . should be .

vVe are "the

weake r

vesselJJ-wh ether acknowledging it or not, most

"' IP you want a thin bo• &lt;lo11e
J
go yourself ; if

of us feel this: it becomes manJs du ty an d de-

no t, send.n

light to show us honour accordingl y.

This pithy axiom) of w h'1cl1 most men know
the full value) is by no means so well appreciated by women.
we learn,
helplessness,

On e of the very last things

often through

a course of miserable

heart-burn ings) difficulties, contu-

And this

honour, dear as it may be to him to give, is
still dearer to us to receive.
Dependence is in itself an easy and pleasant
thing : dependence upon one we love being p erhaps the very sweetest th ing in the world.

To

melie s, an d pam,
· 1·s the lesson, taught to boys

resign one's self totally and cont entedly into the

from th eir school -day s) of self-dependence .

hands of another;

Its opposite, either plainly or impliedly) has
been preached to us all our lives.
p endent

young

lady

n -

take care of herself n have become tacitly

«

'' An inde-

a woman who can

and such-like phrases,

suggestive

of hoydenish-

to have no lon ger any need

of asserting one)s rights

or one's personality,

knowing that both are as precious to that oth er
as they ever were to ourselves ; to cease takin

o·

t,

thought about one's self at all, and rest safe,
at ease, assured that in great things and small we

�24

SELF-DEPENDENCE.

25

SELF-DEPENDENCE,

shall be guided

and cherishecl, gual'ded and
fact) thoroughly '' taken care of"_

who, while most needing the exercise of self-d e-

helped-in

pendence, are usually the very last in whom it is

how delicious is all this !

So delicious) that• it

inculcat ed) or even permitted.

From babyhood

seems granted to very few of us, and to fewer

they are given to understand that helpl essn ess is

still as a perman ent condition of being.

feminine and beautiful;

Were it our ordinary lot, were every woman

helpfuln ess) - except in

certain received forms of manife station-

un -

li9'ing to have either father) brother) or husband,

womanly and ugly. The boys may do a thou sand

to watch over and protect

things which are "not proper for littl e girl s.))

her, then, indeed,

the harsh but salutary doctrine of self-dependence need never be heard of.

And herein, I think, lies the gr eat mistak e at

But it is not so.

the root of most women's education, that the law

In spite of the pretty ideals of poets, the

-0f their existence is h eld to be, not Ri ght, but

easy taken-for-granted

of old-fashioned

Propriety; a certain r eceived notion of woman-

this fact remains

hood, which has descended from certain excellent

educators

truths

of female youth)

patent to any person of common sense and ex-

great-grandmothers,

perienc e, that in the present day, whether volun-

sorts of th eir descendant s) but totally ignoring

ta r ily or not, one-half of our women are obliged

the fact that each sex is composed of indi vi-

to take care of themselves -obliged

duals, differing in character almost

to look solely

admirably suited for some

as much

For

to them selves for maintena nc e, position, occupa-

from one another as from the opposite sex.

tion) amusement, reputation)

do we not continually find womani sh men and

life.

Of course I refer to the lar ge class for which
these 'rhoughts

are meant-the

single women;

masculine women? and some of the finest type s
of character we have known amon ~ both
.__,
sexes,

�26

SELF-DEPE NDE ~CE.

27

SELF- DEP EN D E-~C E •

are they not often tho se who combine the

.
qua11~

ties of both? Therefore) there must be somewhere
a standa rd of abstract right) including manhood

and womanhood, and yet superior to either.
One of the :first of its common laws, or common
duties, is this of self-depend ence.

,~re ·women are, no less than men, each of us a
distinct existence.

In two out of the three great

facts of our life we are certainly independent
agent s, and all our life long we are accountable
only, in the high est sense, to our own souls and
the l\1aker of them.

'

Is it natural, is it right

even, that we should be expected- and be ready

.

• ·t to be left undon e ?•

1t, IS 1

Alack, most fre.

·

I

quentl y, w hct her or not it ought to be, it is .
Every one's experience may furni sh dozc~s of
cases of poor women suddenly thro wn adn ft w1·aows ,v1'th families, orphan girls, reduc ed gen-

tlewomen - clinging helpl essly to every mal e
relative or friend th ey have, year after year; sink ing deeper in poverty or debt; eatin g th e bitter
bread of charity, or compelled to bow an honest
pride to the cruellest humili ations., every one of
which might have been spared them by th e early
practice of self-dependence.
I once heard a lady say-a

tend erly-re ared and.

enough, too, for it is much the easiest way-to

tender-hearted woman - th at if her riches made

hang our consciences, dutie s) actions, opinions,

themselves wings) as in th ese times riches ,rill,

upon some one else- some individual, or some

she did not know anything in the world that she

aggregate of individual s yclept Society?

Is this

could turn her hand to, t o keep her self from

Society to dravv up a code of regulations as to

starving. A more pitiabl e} and, in some sense,

what is proper for us to do, and what not?

humbling confession) could hardly ha ve been

11/hich latter is supposed to be done for us ; if

made ; yet it is tha t not of hundr ed8, bu t of

not done, or th ere happ ens to be no one to do

thousands) in England.

�28

SELF'-DEPE:XDE!\CE.

29-

SELF-DEPE::\IDE:KCE,

Sometimes except ions arise : here is one: -

Happily) the trade was one that

Two young wom en) well educated and refined,

personal publicity;

requir ed no

but th ey had to k eep th e

,vere left orphans) their father dying just when

books, manage the stocl(J choose and superintend

his business promised to realise a handsome pro-

fit agents-to

It was essentially a man's

-rision for his family.
business-in

many points of view) decidedly an

Of cours e friends thought "the

unpleasant one.

do things difficult) not to say dis-

tasteful, to most women) and resi gn enjoyments
that, to women of their refinement,

must have

cost daily self-denial. Yet they did it; they filled

girls JJ must give it up) go out as governesses,

their fath er's p]ace,

depend

mother in ease and luxury) neve r onc e compro-

on relatives,

or live in what genteel

sustained

their

poverty the sale of the good -will might allow.

mising their womanhood

But the'' girls) ' were wiser. They argued : ((Ifwe

rather enn obling the work by their doin g of it.

had been boys) it would have been all rio-ht
· we
0
)

Another case-diff

by their

delicat e

work)

but

A

erent) an&lt;l yet alike.

should have carried on the busine ss) and provided

young girl) an elder sister) had to receiv e for

for our moth er and the vvhole family .

step-mother a woman who ought never to haYe

women) weJll try it still.

Being

It is nothino•
wrono-·
0
t) )

it is simp ly disagreeable.

It needs common sense,

activity)

self-dependence.

&lt;lihgenccJ and

have all these;
lcarn .n
young

and what we have not, we will

So these
women

vVe

sen sible and well-educated

laid aside their

ness and plea sant

idleness,

pretty

useless-

and set to work.

been any honest man's wife.

Not waiting

to

be turne d out of her father's house, she dicl a

left it,

most daring and (&lt;improper)) thing-she

taking with her the brotlr@·s and sisters) -whom by
this means only she brltSved she could

lrnnn.

SRYC

from

She settled them iu a Lond on loclo·ino·
a11d
t,
CJ

workc cl for them as a daily governess .

C

«

Heaven

�-30

SELF-DEPE?\.DENCE.
SELF - D EPE::-'DENCE .

helps those who help themselves ."

From that day

this girl never was dependent upon any human
being

j

while during a long life she has helped

and protected more than I could count-pupils
.ancl pupils' children, friends and their children,

besides brothers and sisters-in-law, nephews and

31

value therein is doubled and treb led, and society
respects her accordingly.

Even h er kindly male

friends, no longer afraid that when the charm to
their vanity of ((being of use to a lady" has died
out, they shall be saddled with a perpetual
claimant for all manner of advice and assistanc e ;

nieces, dovvn to the slenderest tie of blood, or

the first not always followed, and the second

-even mere strangers.

often accepted without

And yet she has never

gratitude-even

th ey

been anything but a poor governess, always in-

yield an involuntary consideration to a lady

dependent, al-ways able to assist others-because

who gives them no more troub le than she can

she never was z.nd never will be indebted to

avoid, and is always capable of thinking

any one, except for love while she lives, and

acting for herself, so far as the natuntl restric-

for a grave when she dies. l\fay she long possess

tions anc.1decorums of her sex allow. True, th ese

the one and want the oth er!

have their limits, which it ,Yould be folly, if

and

And herein is answered the "cui bono?" of

not worse, for her to attempt to p ass ; but a

self-dependence, that its advantage s end not with

certain fine instinct, which, we flatt er our sch-cs,

t he original pos&amp;essor .

In thi s mnch -sufferi11
0

is native to us women) ·will generally indic ate

world, a woman who can take care of herself
She not

the division between brave self-reliance an d bold
a sumption.

only ceases to be an unprotected female, a nui-

Perhaps the line is most easily drawn, as in

sance and a drag upon society, hut her working-

most difficulties) at that point where duty ends

can always take care of other people.

�32

SELl ~-DEPENDENCE.
S.ELJ:'- DErEXD};XCE

33

.

and plea sure b egins. Thus) we shou ld respect one
noticed , if the most sensitive) not dways the
who) on a mission of m ercy or necessity, went
through

the low est portions

Gallowgate;

of St. Giles' or the

we should be rath er disgusted if she

did it for mere amus ement or bra vad o. All honour
to the poor sempstress or g overness who traverses
London
night)
hut the

streets
unguarded

alone) at

all hours of day or

except b y h er own modesty;

strong-minded

female who would ven-

tur e on a solitary expedition
humours

t o investigate the

of Cremorn e Gard ens or Greenwich

fair) though

p erfect ly " respectable/'

would be

an exceedingly cond em n able sort of personage.

justest or mos.,+- generous .

I have seen ladies)

no longer either young or pretty,

at which) as mere plea-

sures ) a woman has a right to he sitate

j

there

at

the idea of traYcrsing a ~treet's length at night,

yet never hesitate at being "fetch ed )) by some

female servant, who was both young; and pretty)
and to ,,·horn the danger of the expedition ) or
of the late retu rn alone, was by far the greate r

of the t\ro.

I hi:n-clmmvn anxious mother s, who

would not for worlds be guilty of the indecorum
of sending their daughters unchaperoned

to the

thc:1trc or a ball - and very right) too !-

yet

.send out some othe.:: woman's vouno· &lt;lauo·hter
J

Th ere are many things

shocked

at cleren

P . l\'I.,

O

v

J

to the stand for a cab) or to

the public-house for a supply for beer .

It never

is no single duty) whether or not it lies in the

strikes them that the doctrine of female depend -

ordinary

ence ex.tendsbeyond them elves) " ·horn it suits so

lin e of her sex, from which she ought

to shrink , if it be plainly set b efore her.
1

'1.hose who are the strongest
th e passive

character

of

advocates for

our sex,

its claims,

p roprieties ) and 1·estrictions) arc) I have often

easily, and to whom it saves so much trouble .

'
every woman be sl1e
. t
,
serva.n or
mistress) scm1)strcss or fine lady, should receive
the '' IJrnt, ,f
,, . bl
cc ion smta e to her degree ; or that
th at either

D

�31

S t:I,!'- Dl:PEX

1)

Ei'.\CE,
SELF - DEPEXJ)EXCE

each 011ght to hC' educated into &lt;'qnal sc1f-clepcnd
.

lcctivcly) in different degrees;

.

allowing no one

cncc . Let us, at lea~t, hold the halancc of ju ti-~~

to rust or lie idle, merely bccau:sc their

even, nOL'allow an ovcr-consideraLion for the deli.

is a woman . And, abo,·c all, let us lay the foun-

cacy of one woman to trench on the right , con.

dation of all real womanlines:; by tcac:hing om·

vcnience~, anc.1hone:-:t frrli11~s of another.

girls from their cradle that the pricclc -:;~ pea11

vVc must help ourselves.
of social history,

O\rJH.'l'

ln this curious pha·e

of decorous beauty, cha 'tity of mincl as ,rcll as

is apparently

body, exist' in themsclYes alone; that a si:n~lc-

when marriage

ceasing to become the common lot, and a happy

hcartcc.land purc-min&lt;l&lt;'d woman may go through

uncommon lot of all, we

the world, like Spenser's Una, suffering, ind eed,

mu st educate oue maidens jnto "hat is far better

but neYcr defenceless ; foot -sore and smirched,

than any blind clamour for i11-definec1
((rig:hts"-

but never tainted;

into wha t ought always to be the foundationof

trial:;) yet never eith er degraded or humiliat c&lt;l,

marriage

the

rights-duties.
practice

most

And there

is one, the silent

of "·hich will secure to them ahno·t

exposed, doubtles s, to many

unless by her own act she humiliates herself.
For hcm·cn's sake-for

the sake of" ,roman-

every right they can fairly need--tllc duty of sclf-

hccle," the mo t heavenly th ing next angel hood,

depcndcncc . X ot after any Amazonian fashion
i

(a~ men tell us when they arc courting us) and

no mutilatino-0

of fair womanhood in order to

assume the un natu r al

armour

of men; hut

which it depends upon ourclrcs

to make them

brlicYc in all their livcs) -you ng girl ' , tru~l

by the full exercise of cYery faculty
,
.
. 11cctua l, WI.th which
phy:·ncal,
moral, an d mte

yonr~ch·cs ; rely on yoursclre' !

Hea ven ha s endowed us all, severally aud col-

yon keep the je·;i,-dof 1mrity in y~mr bo?o:.1,

simply

Be assured that

no outward circum 'tanccs will harm you while

�3(3

SELF- OLPEK DE.'.\CE.

and are ever ready with the steadfast, clean

The :1ge of chivalry, with all its benefits and

right hand, of which, till you use it, you ncrcr

hnrmful1H''SC,, is gone by, for u women. "\Yc

know the strength, though it be only a woman's

cannot now have men for our kni ghts -errant, cx-

hand.

pl'nding blood and life for our sake, while we

l!1car not the world : it is often ju. tcr to us
than we are to oursch·cs.
lings the "weaker

If in its harsh jost-

p;oes to the wall" -a ' so

many allege is sure to lrnppcn to a woman-y ou
will almost alwavs fincl that this is not merclv
.

h,1\'C nothing to do but

it idle on bulconie ,

and drop flowers on half-dead victors at tilt
ancl tourney. Nor, on the other hand, arc "·e
dressed-up dolls, pretty playthings, to be fought

and scrambled for-petted,

eare8sed, or flung

~

because of her sex, bu t from some inherent quali
~ies in herself, which, existing either in woman
or man, would produce just the same result,

pitiful ancl blameable, but usually more pitiful
than blameable.

Th e worlc.l is hard enough,for

two-third. of it arc stru co
0•o·lin
°· for the dear life
0

- " cuch for himself, ancl de'il tnk the hindmost j" but it has a rough sense of moral justice

after all.

Ancl whosoeYcrclcnicsthat, spite of all

l!iuclrancc:; from individual ,rickec.lncss,tilerig/it
shall not ultimately preYai1, impngns not alone
human j u~ticc, but the j m;tice of God.

out of window, as our several lords ancl masters
may please. Life is much more equally divided
between us and them.

"\Vearc neither goclc.l
e::;scs

nor slaves; they are neither heroes nor semidemons: we ju st plod on together, men and
"·omen alike, on the same road, where daily

experience illustrates
that

Hudibras's keen truth)

" The value of a thing
I s ju st as much as it will brin•Y
"
t:, ·

And OUl' value is- exactly what we choose to
make it.

�38

SELF-DJ ~PEXDENCE.

P erhaps at no age since Eve's were women
J'atecl so exclu sively at their os;,•n per onal worth
,

apart from poetic flattery

or tyrannica l depre
-

iciation;

the

at

judged

no

time

so entirely

~nd respected

in

world's history

by thei1· individual merits
,

according

to the respect which

they earn for them selves. And ~hall we value

and pinning h er conscience to his sleeve?

Or,

cYcn supp osing h e did like it, is a woman ' s divinity to be man-or

Goel?

..\.ncl here, piercing to th e }'onnc.lation of all
trnth-

1 think we may find the truth concern -

ing -elf-dependence, ,rhich is only real and only
yaluahlc when it~ root is not in self at all; when

Shall we not rat h er accept our posi-

its st rength is drawn not from man; bnt from

so meanly

t ion, difficult
more

.s l-hould er~,
tran. fcrring :ill h er l)lll' dens t O h 1

as to consid er this un-

ourselves
just?

39

SELF-DEPE.\'DF.:XCE .

than

in deed, and
the

requiring

from us

TI'Orkl ever required before,

hu t from its very diffi.culty rendered

the more

Let us not

be afraid of men j for that, I

suppose , lies at the

root of all th ese amiable

" Gentlemen

such things ."
unfem inin e."

indi, idual soul proceeds, arn.l to whi ch alone it
is accountable.

As soon as any woman, old or

youn~, once feds that, not as a ya3uc sentimental

honourable ?

11esitations.

that Higher
and l) iyincr Source whence c,·c'l'V
'
.

don't

" Gentlemen
l\I y dear little

&lt;lo you think a man-a

like such and

fancy so and o
foolish cowards,

good man, in :rny re-

iation of life, ever loYes a woman the more for

rcvere11cing her thr le~s ? or likes her better for

belief, hut as

a,

tangible, practical l::twof life, all

weakness ends, all doubt d&lt;'parts : she recognises
the glory, honour, a11clbeauty of her existence

j

!'-hei~ no longer afraid of its l)ains ; she desires
not to shift one atom of its responsibilities
another .

to

She is content to take it j rn,t a-; it

is, from the lrnncls of the All-Father;

her only

care being so to fulfil it, that "·hi le the "or lcl

�40

SE LF - DEPE".\"l) EN CE ,

FE:.'iIALEPJWIIESSIO'XS,

41

at large may recognise and profit by her self
~
dcpcndcnccJ she

herself) knowing that the

utmost strengt h lies in t he deepest humility,

recognises) solely ancl above all) her dependence
Uj_.)On God.
CIIAPTl~R II T.

Gn..\ :'ITED the necessity of something to doJ and
the ~clf-depcnclence required fol' its achievement,
we may go on to the very obvious question -

u hat is a woman to do ?
A ancstion more easily asked than answered;
J.

and the nu merous replic~ to which, now curr c1tt
in book) })amphlct, newspaper, and reYic,YJsuggc -ting everything possible and impossible) from
compulsory wifohood in Australia to Yoluntary
watchmaking at home) do at pre cnt rather confuse the ma.ttcr than otherwise.

No doubt, out

of these " many worcls/' which '' darken speech/'
some plain word or two will one day tn.kc hapc

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                  <text>FE)IA.LE FRIENDSllIPS

164

165

•

'IHE l\IISTRESS OF A F,D1ILY.

Her ch ildren arise up, and call her bl

d.
esse ' her husban
d

also, and he praiseth her.
Many daugh ters have done virtuou sly
but tl1ou excellest
• '
them all.
Favour is deceitful, and beautv• is vain., but a woman
that feareth the Lord , she shall be praised.

CHAPTER VII.

Give her of th e fruit of her hands ; and let her own
works praise her in the gates ."
"And what is F riendship but a name ,

A. charm that lull s to sl eep ,
A shade that follows wealth and fame,
And lea,·cs the wretch to weep ? "

'rurs remark, expressed too t ersely and intel-

ligibly to be considered "poetry"
must apply to the nobler sex.

now-a-days,
Few observant

versons will allege against ours, that even in
its lowest form our friendship is deceitful. Fickle
it may be, weak, exaggerated, sentimental-the
mere lath-and-plaster imitation of a palace great
enough for a demigod to dwell in-but

rarely false, 1)nrasitical, or diplomatic .

it is

The

countless secondary motives which many men

�166

FEUA LE l&lt;'RIE~DSIIIl.&gt;S.

arc mean enough to have- nay, to

own-ar e
1
a 1 but impossible to us '. imposs1
'ble f rom th
very fault s of our nature -o ur f .- 1· . e
.
.
.
nvo 1ty, irra.
t10nahty, and mcapacity to seize on more
. than
one idea
. at the same t ime.

In truth, a sad

F"E)IALE FRIENDSHUS.

167

sex, down eYen to the far-famed ladies of Llan'\Yhen such a bond really docs exist,
gollcn.
from its exception to general masculine ic.liosyncra ies-espccially

the enormous absorption in

and devotion to Number One- from its total

propor tion of us are too empty-headed to be

absence of sentimentality, its undemonstrative-

doubl e-min ded, too shaUow to be msmccre
. .

ness, clcpth, and power, a friendship between

Nay, even the worst of us being more direct an~
simpl e of character t han men arc, our lightest
friendsh ip - the merest passing liking that we
decorate with that

name - is, while it lasts,

more tru e th an the generality of the so-called
"fr iendships" of mankind.
But-

and thi s " but " will) I am aware, raise

a whole nest of hornets - from our very peculiarities of temperament, women' s friendships are
rarely or n ever so fir m) so ju st, or so enduring,
as th ose of men - wizen you can find them.
Dam on and Pythias, Orestes and Pyladcs, Brutus
and Cassius-last

and loveliest, David and Jona-

th an, are pictures unmatched by any from our

two men is a higher thing than between any
t\Yowomen-nay,

one of the highest and noblest

sights in the whole world.

Precisely as, were

comparisons not as foolish as they arc odious,
a truly good man, from the larger capacities
of male nature both for virtue and vice, is, in
one sense, more good t11an any good woman.
But this question I leave to controversialists, who
enjoy breaking their own b eads, or one another's,
ove1· a bone

contention which is usuallvJ not

worth pic1&lt;1ngafter all.

Yet, though di~scnting from much of the
romance talk eelabout fcmaie friendships ) believin 0o•
that two-thirds of them spring from mere idle-

�168

F.E:\IALE FRIEKD SIIIPS,

FE:.',fALEFRIE~ DSill PS ,

besoin d'aimer Wh'lCh, for
want of natu ral domestic ties m k
h.

ncss, or from that

' a cs t is one
a temporary substitute ' Heaven veor·b'd
I sho~d
i
so malign my sex as to say they are incapable

1G9

mockino-oat things more
lest We be
li()"b
t
of,
0
sacred than we are aware.
And yet, it is not the real thing - not friend-

of an emotion which, in its rio•ht
formand pace
t&gt;
1

. but rather a kind of foreshadowing of love;
ship,
.
as jealous, as exacting, as unre asoning - as ·w1ldly

constitutes the strcn ooth , help , and sweetness of

hapJ)Y and supremely miserable; ridiculously so

many, many lives;

to a looker-on, but to the parties concerned, as

•

J

and the more so because

it is one of the first sweetnesses we know.
Probably th ere are few women who have not
h ad some first frie11 dship , as delicious and almost
as passionate as first love.
it seldom does;

It may not last-

but at the time it is one of

vivid and sincere as any after-passion into which
the girl may fall ; for the time being, perhaps
long after, colouring all h er world .

Yet it i~

but a dream, to melt away like a dream when
love appears ; or if it then wishes to keep up

th e purest , most self-forgetful and self-denying

its vitality at all, it must change its character,

at tachments that the human heart can experience:

temper its exactions, resign its rights : in short,

with many , the neare st approximation to that

be buried and come to life again in a totally

feeling called love-I

different form.

mean love in its highest

form, apar t from all selfishnesses and sensuousn esses -whi ch in all their after-life they willever
kno w.

Thi s girlish friend ship, however fleeting

in it s chara cter, and romantic, even silly, in its
manifestations) let us take heed how we make

Afterwards, should Laura and

·Mat1lda, with a house to mind and a husbancl
to fuss over, find them selves actually kissing the
babies instead of one another - and managing
t o exist for a year without meeting, or a month
without letter-writing, yet feel life no blank,

�170

FE )I ALE FR IENDSHIPS .

171

FE::IIALE F RIENDSIII PS.

and affection a reality still- then th .
en· attach.
ment has taken its true shape as f .- d h.
.
ucn s 1p,
shown itself capable of friendshii)'s d.1st·mgu1
.sh.mg

of which the vital atmosphere is perfect liberty .
h ·
·t hould
A bond, not of nature but of c oice, 1 s

f~atu re -n amely, t enderness without appropria
-

having neither rights nor jealousies ; at once th e

tion ; and t he women, younoo • or old, w1·11 1ove
one another faithfu lly to the end of their lives.

firmest and most independent of all human tics.

P erh aps th is, which is the test of the senti-

exist and be maintained calm, free, and clear,

"Enough ," said Rasselas to I mlac ; " you
convince me that no man can ever be

a

poet."

ment, explains why we thus seldom attain to

And truly, reviewing friendship in its pur est

it, in its highest ph ase, because nature bas made

essence, one is prone t o think that , in this

us in all our feelings so intensely personal. We

imperfect world of ours, no man - certainly no

have instincts, passions, domestic affections, but

woman- ever can be a friend.

friendship is, str ictly speaking, none of the three.

own some dozens ; from i\1rs. Granville Jones,

It is-to

borrow th e phr ase so misused by that

who invites "a few friends "-

And yet we all
say two hundr ecl

arch im-moralist, th at high--priest of intellectual

- to pass with her a " social evening n -to

self-worship, Goethe-a

the poor costermongcr, who shouts after the

n elective affinity, based

up on the spiritual consanguinity, which, though

little pugilistic sweep the familiar tragico-comie

frequently co-existent with, is different from any

saying : "H it him hard ; he's got no friends !"

tie of instinct or blood-relationship. 'fherefore,

And who that is not an utte r misanthr ope would

neither the sanctiti es nor weaknesses of these

refuse to those of his or her acquaintance that

rightly appertain to it; its duties, immunities,

persist in claiming it, the kindly t it le, and the

benefits and pains, belong to a distinct sphere,

vlcasant social charities which belong ther eto ?

�172

FE:\IA LE F RIE NDSRI PS.

173

"fE)IALE FRIE)(DS !ill?S ,

"L ove 1s
. sweet
'
returned ·"
,

.
Given or

and so is friendship . when b

. .

three times three "dearest"

·t

.
'
, ' e 1 ever so infinitesima
. unadulterated
. l. m quantity, its qualit y IS
sprmgmg , as, I rep eat, women's friendsh'1Pa1most
always
does sprin o,
O'
out of th at one-1·aca' d im.
.
puls1veness, .often wrong -headed , but rarely evil
..
hearted, w1nch makes us at once so charmmO'
.
and so troublesome, and which, I fear, never wi~
be got out of us till we cease to be women, and
become what men sometimes call us - and they
well know they give us but too much need to be

-an

gels.

persuade themselves and her that

they come

only to sec dear 13cssy; nevertheless, the fondness is real enough to outla st many both ers
caused by said brothers, or even a cantank erous sister-in-law to end with .
1\liss Hopkins, that

Nay,

wh en

middle-a ged and strong -

minded " young lady"

of blighted

affections,

and l\1rs. J enkins, that woman of sublime aspirati ons, who has unluckily " mated with a
cl0\n1," coalesce against the opposite sex, fall

into one another's arms and vow eternal fricnd shiµ - for a year; after ,i hicb , for five more,

ye s, with all our folly, we are not false: not
even when Lavinia

Smith adores with all her

innocent soul the condescending Celestina Jones,
though meeting twenty years after as fat l\Irs.
Brown and vulgar 1\1:rs. Green, they may with
difficulty

friends , who hone stly

remembe r

one

another's

Christian

names : not when Bessy Thompson, blessed with
three particul ar Iy nice brothers,

owns likewise

they make all their acquaintances

able by their eternal enmity -

uncomfort-

even in this

lamentable phase of the sentiment, it 1s more
respectable than the time -serving, placc -hunt-

mg, dinner -seeking devotion which i\Icssrs . Taµ~

arnl Tad1)ole choose to denominate " friend-

~kp."
l\Ien 1nay lanp:h at us, and we descne

it:

�174

FE::\lALE FRIENDSilll'S,

FEMALE FRIEND Silll'S,

we arc often egr egious fools, but we ai·e h

onest
fools; and our folly, at least in this matter

'

usually ends where theirs begins - with middle

life, or marriage .

It is the unmarried, the solitary, who al'e
most

prone

to that

sort

of " sentimental''

friend ship with th eir own or the opposite :ex,
which, though often most noble, unselfish, and

itself-this,

I

175

say, is an honourable and lovely

sight .

.
·c I o-rant
Not less so the friendsb ip-ra1 ,
b
,
.
"ble-wbich subsists between a
yet quite poss1
.
man and woman whom circumstances, or their
·asics, preclude from the slightest
own 1.d.1osync1
chance of cvcI. "fallino·o in love." That such

is in some forms ludicrous, in others

friendships can exist, especially between persons of a certain temperamcnt and order of

For two women, past earliest girl-

mind, and remam for a lifetime, utterly pure,

ho od, to be compl etely absorbed in one an-

interfering with no rights, and transgrcssmg

other,

and make public demonstratio n of the

no law of morals or society, most people's ob-

fact, by car esses or quarr els, is so repugnant

servation of life will t estify ; and he must take

to common sense, th:1t where it ceases to be

a very low view of human nature who dares to

silly it becomes actually wrong.

But to see

say that these attachments, satirically termed

two women, whom Provid ence has denied nearer

" Platonic," are impossible. But, at the same

ties, by a wise substitution

making the best

time, common sense must allow that they are

and comforting one

rare to find, and not the happiest always, "·hen

a tendern ess often closer than

found; because in some degree they are con-

true,

dangerous.

of fate, loving, sustaining,
anothe r, with

that of sisters, because it has all the novelty
of election which belongs to the conjugal tic

trary to nature .

Nature's law undoubtedly is,

�176

177

FE :\1,-\.I,E FRIE XDSH l l'S ,

FE::\IAL E FRIE~DS ilIP S .

tha t our nearest tics should be those of blood
-fath er or brothe r, sister or mother-un til
comes the closer one of marriao·c
. and l·t lS
.
'b ,

of marriage prefigured a grc:1ter mystery sti11,

always, if not wrono•
't1·ful, when any
0 ' rather p1
extraneou s bond comes in between to forestall

, Yhile allowing th at a treaty of friend ship ,

alone can ju dge th em, for He only knows th eir
miseries, their t empt ations, and their wrongs.
"p ure and simple," c~

exist between a man

the entire affection th at a young man ouo-ht
t)

and woman- under peculiar circumstan ces, even

to bring to his future wife, a young woman

between a young man and a young woman-it

I say ought-G od knmrs if

must also be allowed that the experiment is dif-

But, however fate, or folly,or

ficult, often dangerous ; so dangerous, that the

to her hu sband.
th ey ever do!

wickedne ss may int erfere to prevent it, not the
less true is the undoub ted fact, that happy
above all must be that marriage where neither
hu sband nor wife ever had a friend so dear
as one an other.
After marriage, for either party to have or
t o desire a dearer or closer friend than the
ot her, is a state of thin gs so inconceivably de•
plor able - the more errm g, the more deplorable -

that it will not bear discussion. Such

cases ther e are; but He who in the mystery

matter-of-fact half of the world will not believe
in it at all.

Parents and guardians very natu-

rally object t o a gentleman's "hanging

up his

hat" in their houses) or taking sentimental t" ilight rambles with their fair young daughters.
They insist) and justly) that he ought to
'' Come with a good will, or come not at all;"

namely, as a mere acquaintance, a pleasant frien d
of the family - the u:lwle family, or as a declared
suitor.

An d though this may fall rather h ard

npon the young man) who has just a hundred
N

�178

FE~IALE FRIE NDSH IP S,

FEi\IALE FRIENDSII IPS.

179

a-year, and, with every disposition towards flirt.

and purer than itself, I think it would be all

ing,

the better for the world.

a strong honor

of matrimony - still, it is

It may save both parties from

, "\Vomen' s friendships with one another arc of

fri tte ring away) in a score of false sentimental

course free from all these perils, an d yet th ey

lik ing s) the love that ought to belong but to

haYc their own.

wisest and best.

one ; or, st ill worse, from committing or suffering what, b eginning blamelessly on either side,
fr equ en tly ends

in incurable pain, irremediable

Ther efore it
011

is,

gene rally speaking, those

in life , with whom the love-pha e

is past, or for whom it never existed, who may
b est u se the right) which every pure and independent

heart uncloubteclly ha s, of saying: "I

take this man or ·woman for my friend: only
a friend-neyer

either more or less-wh om as

such I mean to k eep to the encl of my days."
And if more

of these, who really know "·hat

fri endship is, would have the morul courage to
assert its dignity against the sneers of society,
which

which exists spiritually as ~rell as materia lly, and
often independent of matter altogether;

since we

sec many a man wh o is mu ch more of a woman 1
and many a woman who woulcl certainly be the

Wl'Ong.

furthe r

Th e wonderful law of sex-

is loath

to believe in anything hi~her

"better-half"

of any man who cared for h er -

this law can r arely be withstood with impun ity.
In most friends whose attachment

is specially

deep and lasting, we can usually trace a difference- of strong or weak, gay or grave) bril liant or solid -a nswer ing in some meastu·c to
the difference of sex.

Otherwi 'c, a close, all -

engrossing fricnd-11ip between hro women would

Reldom last long; or if it did) by their mutua l
feminine weaknesses acting and reacti n g upon one

another, "oultl most likely narrow the symp a-

th1c::,,arnl ~ctcriorate the characte r of both.

�180

FElV[ALE FH,IENDSHIPS.

FE)'1ALE FRIENDSllIPS.

Her ein lies the distinction - marked and in13.lienable- between friendship and love.

The

htt.er, being a natural ncc~~~ity,req1~iresbut tlte

one, whom it absorbs and assimilates till the two

ware of.

1·

One simple fact exp ams

the whole question-that

181
and limits

those only can find

. a~
who have in themselves the will and
true frien
is

diverse , and often opposite characters, becomea

capacity to be such.
.
A friend. Not perhaps unti l later life, until

safe unity - according to divine ordinance, " one

the follies, passions, and selfishnesses of youth

flesh."

have died out, do we- I mean especially we

But friendship , to be friendship at all,

must have an in dependent self"existence, capable

women-recognise

of gradations and varieties; for though we can

responsibility awful as sweet, of possessing or of

have but

being a friend.

one dearest friend, it would argue

the inestimable blessing, the

And though, not willing to run

small power of either appreciating or loving to

counter to the world's kindly custom, we may

have only one friend.

give that solemn title to many who do not ex-

On the other hand, the

a

hare with many

friends " has pa ssed into a proverb . Such a con-

actly own it; though year by year the fierce experience of life, through death, circumst ance, or

The gentleman

change, narrows the circle of those who do own

who in answer to his servant 's request to be

it ; still that man or woman must have been very

allowed t o go and " see a friend," cries :-

unfortunate - perhaps, as there can be no result

dition is mani festly impossible.

'

,v1thout a cause, worse than unfortunate-who,
" Fetch me my coat, John ! Though the night be raw,
I 'll see him too-the

first I ever saw:"

looking back on thirty, forty, or fifty years of
c'-istcncc, cannot say from the hear t, " I thank

· , than he 1s
1 w1sci
this cynic, poor wretch ! spcaKs
,

God for my friends."

�184,

FEM:ALE FRIENDSHIPS .

I said before, tha t the very clement .

in

true fri end ship lives and out of
'

185

FE:.\IALE FRIENDSHIPS.

.

w11ch

h. h .

w ic it can-

not live at all, is perfect liberty.

And here is one accusation which I must
sorrowfully bring against women, as being much
more guilty t h an men. VI e can keep a secret -

Frie n dship once conceived should, li·ke 1ove,m
.
one sense last for ever. That it does not; that

ay, against all satire, I protest we can-while

in the worl d' s harsh wear and tear many a very
sincere at tachment is slowly obliterated, or both

pop! out it comes! and in the bitterness of in-

parties grow out of it and cast it, like a snakehis

·wardsin mere thoughtlessness, and easy 1orgettmg

last year' s skin - though that implies something

of what is so easily healeGl.,a thousand things are

of the snak e-n ature, I fear - arc facts too mourn-

said and done for which nothing can ever atone.

the

confider remains our friend ; but if that tie ceases,
vective, the pang of wounded feeling, or after~
1'

.

But there is a third

The lost friendship, which, once certain that it is

fac t, as mournfully uncommon, ,:vhichneeds to be

past all revival, ought to be buried as solemnly

rememb ered likewise: we may lose the friend-

ancl silently as a lost love, is cast out into the

the fri endship we never can or ought to lose.

open street for all the snarling curs of society to

Active ly, it may exist no more ; but passively,it

gnaw at and mangle, and all the contemptuous

is jus t as binding as the first moment when we

misogynists who pass by to point the finger at-

pledge d it, as we believed, for ever. Its duties,

" See what your grand. icleals all come to ! "

fully common to be denied.

like it s deligh ts, may have become a dead-letter;
but none of it s claims or confidences have we
ever afterwards th e smallest right to abjure or to
brea k.

Good women-dear

my sisters! be our friend-

ships false or true, wise or foolish, living or dead
-let

us at least learn to keep them sacred! l\1en

are far better than we in this.

Rarely will a man

�186

FE::\I.ALEFRIENDSHIPS,
FE)JALE FRIE~DSIIIPS

voluntari ly

01·

thought le sly betray a friend'E&gt;
con.

fidcnce , either at the time or afterwards. Ile

will say, even to hi s own wife: "I can't tell you
this -I

have no right tell you :" and if she has

the lea st spark of good feeling, she will honour
and love him all the dearer for so saying. More
rar ely still will a man be heard, as women constantly

.

are, speaking ill of some friend who a

little while before, whil e the fricnu.ship lasted,
was all perfection.

"l1at is necessary to be said

he will say, but not a syllable more, leaving all
the rest in that safe, still atmosphere, whereall
good fructifies and evil perishes -the

atmosphere

of silence .

into a fault, and do great harm, still, it never
can d o so mu Ch harm as that horrible

laxity

and profligacy of speech which is at the root
of half the quarrels) cruelties, and inj usticcs of
the workl.

And let every woman, old or young, in commencing a friendship)
to the right thing
name.

be

careful

that

it

is

she has given the ri ght

If soJ let her enter upon it thoughtfully)

earnestly, advisedly, as upon

an engagement

made for life, which in truth it i ; since, whether
its duration be brief or long, it is a tangible
reality, and, as such, must have its influence on

Ay, above all things, wliat women need to learn
in their friendships

like all virtues carri ed to extremity, may grow

is the sanctity of silence-

silence in outward demonstration,

silence nuder

the total chronicle of existence, wherein no line
can cYcr be quite blot ted out.

Let h er, with

the strength and comfort of it, prepare to take

wronoto the outside world,
bJ silence with rco-ard
o

the bm·dcn i determined, whatever the other may

and often a delicate silence between one another.

do, to fnlfil her own part, and act up to her

About the greatest virtue a friend can have, js to

own duty, absolutely ancl con cientiously, to the

be able to hold her tongue;

and though this,

�•

188

FEiL\LE

FRIENDSH IPS.

GOSSl P .

en d. Fo r truly , the greatest of all external bl
essings is it to be able to lean your heart .
agains
t
another heart, faithful, tende r, true, and tried

.

'

and record with a thankfulness that year"
d
~ eepen
instead of diminishing, " I have got a friend!"

CHAPTER VII I .

ONE

of the wisest and best among our English

ethical writers, the author of Companionsof my

Solitude, says, apropos of gossip, that one half
of the evil-speaking of the world arises, not
from malice prepense, but from mere want of
amusement.

And I think we may even grant

that in the other half, constitntecl small of mind
or selfish in disposition, it is seldom worse than
the natural falling back from large

abstract

interests, which they cannot understand,
those which they can-alas!
commonplace, and personal.

upon

only the narrow,

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                  <text>314

315

GRO\YIXG OLD,

LOST WO'.\IE:,.,.

her power, when her dealings with Vice sink into
a

mere matter of individual opinion, pcronal

dislike, or selfish fear of harm.

For all offences

,

punishment, retributive and inevitable,must come;
but punishment is one thing, revenge is another.

O~rn only, who is Omniscient a~ well as Omni-

CHAPTER XII.

potent, can declare, "V cngeanec is 1lfine ."

,, 'D o ye think of the days that are gone, Jeanie,

As ye sit by your fire at night?
:
ld
b
·inu
back
the
t.mc,
Do ye wish that the morn wou
i
b
.
. , '

·
Whenyour heart and your st e1) were so h"ht
o

'I think of the days that are gone , Robin,
.\nd of all that I joyed in th en ;

Butthe brightest that ever arose on me,

. , ,,

I have never wished back again.

Gnow-rno
old! A tim e we talk of, aucl jcSt or
·
mora
li c over, but fincl almost nnpo
ss1·blc to reali'e-at least to ourselves.

In others, we can

. approach clearer : yet even then we arc
,cc its
~lowto recogni c it. ",rhat, 1 [i s So-au cl-so
loo
kmg
. old, did you say ?. I mpo --ible ·' she is

�31 7

GROW I NG OLD.

316

GROW I NG OLD .

q:tc:

young person : only a year older than I
an t at would make her J.ust
I
· · · · Bless rn 1
am forgetting how time goes on.
e.
·
Yes,"-with
a f amt deprecat·lOn w h 1ch
'
truth £ ·b·d
contradict a d 1·
o1 i s you to
) n po iteness to notice)- « I suppose
we are neither of u s so young as we used to b "
1Vithout doubt ·t •
.
.
e.
) I is a trymg crisis in a woman) s life-a sino-le
)
.
.
t&gt;
woman s particularly-when
she bcgms to suspect she is « not so ).oung as she
us ed to be ; " that) after crying

«

Wolf)) ever

since the respectable maturity of seventeen-as
some young ladies are fond of doing, to the extreme amusement of their friends-the

grim wolf,

old age) is actually showing his teeth in the di _

·n silver paper " my first gr ey hair/ ' old
es l
preserv
viewedas a near approac hing reality ) is~
age,
quiteanother thing.
To feel that you have had your fair half at
leastof the ordinary terms of years allotted to
mortals;that you h ave no right to expect to be

anyhandsomer, or stronger , or happier than you
arenow; that you have climbed to the summit of

life,whence the next step must necessarily be
decadence
; - ay) though you do not

feel it,

thoughthe air may be as fr esh, and the view as
grand-still,

Slower or

you know that it is so.

faster,you are going down -hill.

To those who

go "hand -in-hand/ '

t:mce; and no courteo us blindn ess on the part of

" And sleep thegither at the foot,"

these said friends) no alarmed indifference on her

mvn) can neutralise the fact that he is, if ::;tillfar
off) in sight .

And) however charmingly poetical

he may appear to sweet fourtccn-an&lt;l-a-half, "ho
w1itcs

melancholy ,·(•r~C'5 :ihont "I wish I were

agam a child/'

or merry thrrC'-an&lt;l-twenty,"h o

it maybe a safer and sweeter descent·

)

but I am

writingfor those who have to make the descent
alone.

It is not a pleasant descent at the beginning .
Whenyou find at parties that you arc not asked

�318

319

GROWING OLD .
GROvVING OLD.

to dance as much as formerly and
h·
'
your partner
are c iefly stout, middle-aged gentlemen d 1·
Id
,~ s~
a s, who blush terribly and 1• · .
.
equn e a great deal
of drawmg out . _ h
.
,
w en you are " dear" -ed and
patronised by stylish young chits who
.
.
,
were m
thei r cradles when you were a grown woman; or

. .
d _ ou detect a covert smile on the face
O Y
w1tt10gly
.
. t ·locutor . or led by chance excitement
ofyourmer
' '
ourself in an ul tra -youthful manner,
to deport Y
.
. t· ct warns you that you are makmg
somems rn
:a1·culous Or catching in some strange
lf n
yourse
·
looking-glass
the face that you are too familiar

when some boy, who was your playthino- in

withto notice much, ordinarily, you suddenly

.

0

petticoats , has the impertinence to look over your

becomeaware that it is not a young face ; that

head, bearded and grand, or even to consult you

it will never be a young face again ; that it

on his love-affairs; -when

you find your ac-

willgradually alter and alter, until the known

quaintance delicately abstaining from the term

faceof your girlhood, whether plain or pretty,

'' old maid"

lovedor disliked, admired or despised, will have

1n your presence, or immediately

qualifying it by an eager panegyric on the

altogethervanished-n

solitary sisterhood ;-when

youwill, you cannot see it any more.

servants address you

as "lVfa'am," instead of "1\1:iss;" and if you

ay, is vanished : look as

There is no . denying the fact, and it ought

are at all stout and comfortable-looking, strange

to silence many an ill-natured

shopkeepers persist in making out your bills to

those unlucky ones who insist on rema mmg

" Mrs. Blank," and pressing upon your notice

"young ladies of a cert ain age," -that

toys and perambulators .

peop
le the passing fron1 matu rity to middle age

Rath er trying, too, when, in speaking of yourself as a" girl" -which,

from long habit, you un-

remark

upon

with most

is so gradual, as to be almost imperceptible to
the individual concerned.

It is very difficult

�322

desperately to the youth that

.

w1 11 not

stay?
and which) after all) is not such a ver·yprec1ous
.
or even a happy thing.

323

GROWING OLD.

GROWING OLD.

vVhy give herself such

ball-costume
is really becoming; but after thirty)
it is the very last sort of attire that a lady cau
assume
with impunity.

It is said that you can

a world of trouble to deny or conceal her exact

only make yourself look younger by dressing

age) when half her acquaintance must either

a little older than you really are; and truly I

know it or guess it) or be supremelyindifferent

haveseen many a woman look withered ancl old

about it ?

in the customary evening-dress which) being

·vvhy appear dressed-undressed
)

the patt ern of her niece)

unmarried,she thinks necessary to shiver in)

the belle of the ball; annoying the eye with

,rhowould have appearecl fair as a sunshiny

beauty either half withered or lono•
overblown
t&gt;
}

Octoberday if she would on1y have done Nature

and which in its prime would have been all the

thejusticeto assume) in her autumn time) an

lovelier for more concealment?

autumna
l livery. If she would on1y have the

cynics would say-after

I n this matter of dress) a word or two. There

senseto believe that grey hair was meant to

are two styles of costume which ladies past their

softe
n wrinklesand brighten faded checks) giving

premiere Jeunesse are most prone to fall into :

the same effect for which our youthful graud-

one hardly knows which is the worst. Pcrhap',

mothers
wore powder·) that flimsy' li 0 ·ht-coloured

though) it is the ultra-juvenile-such

as the

dresses,
fripperieclover with trimmings) only suit

insane juxtaposition of a yellow skin and white

airyfigures and active rnotions · that a sober-

tarlatane) or the anomalous a&lt;loming of grey

tintedsubstantial gown and a pretty cap will

hair with artificial flowers. It, may he ques-

anyday take away ten years from a lady's ap-

tioned. whether at any age beyon&lt;l l\\&lt;'nty a

l'l''\l"lll

0

)

' ''

ce;-a bove all, if she would observe thi::;

�325

GROWI NG OLD.

GROWI NG OLD.

for undue exhibition th ereof, no point that is

notice of what we wear, and' in
.
would like to appear graciou s
whoseeyes we
th e last so far as nature allows :
andlove1Y t O
'
.
e otherwise. This,
not easy when t h ings ar

positively unbeautiful ough t ever, by any pre-

perhaps,is the reason why we see so m11ny

tence of fashion or custom, to be shown.

. d women grow careless and " o1dunmarne
. d" ·n their dress - " )Vhat does it
fash10ne 1
signify?_ nobody cares."

one grand rule of the toilet, always advisable,
but after youth indispensable-that

th

. ts,, are by no
Pe1 ona1 " porn
means

h
oug good
a warrant

The other sort of dress, which, it must be
o necl, is less frequent, is the dowdy style.
• Peopl e saya

thou gh not very soon-«

Oh, I

not a young woman now; it does not signify

what I wear."

""\1/hetherth ey quite believe it

us, and take

1 think a woman ought to care a little- a
verylittle-for her self. Wi thout preaching up
vanity,or undue waste of time over that most

i anothe r question; but they say it - and act

thanklessduty of adorning

upon it when laziness or indifference prompts.

body's pleasure in particular -

Foolish women ! they forget, that if we have

a ri()'ht
and becomin bo· feeling to have
b

rea son at any time more than another to mind

respectfor that personality which, as well as our

our (( looks," it js when our looks are departing

soul, Heaven gave us to make the best of ?

from us .

Youth can do almost anything in the

Aud is it not our duty - considering the great

t oilet - middle-age cannot; yet is none the less

number of uncomely peopl e there are in the

bound to present to her friends and society the

world- to lessen it by each of us makin g

most pleasing exterior she can. Ea:sy is it to

herselfas little uncomc1y as sh e can ?

~o this when we have those about us who love

one's self for no is it not still
some

�32G

GROWING OLD.

Because a lady
ceases to dress youthfull
has no
£
y, she
excuse or dressing u11t'1d1·1
.
Y; and though
h avmg found out th t
a one general style suits
both her person) her ta ste and h .
.
)
e1 convemence
she k eeps to it ) an d. generally prefers mouldino'
the fashion to herself, rather than herself to tho
fashion )- still, that is no r eason why she shoulc:
try

327

GROWI N G OLD,

the ri sible nerves of one generation by

ve left the ri sin g generation no Fifth
senseha
of November) in thu s voluntarily " making a

Guyof herself."
That slow, fine, and yet perceptible

change

ofmien and behaviour, natural and proper to
advancingyears, is scarcely r educibl e to rule at
all. It is but the out er reflecti on of an inward
processof the mind.

We only discover its full

showing up to them th e out- of-date costume of

importance
by the absence of it, as notic eable in a

anot her.

person"w hho

Neatness invariable;

hues carefully

as sue h very ' young ' manne1·"
s,

ha rmo nised, and as time advances, subsiding into

whofalls into r apt ures of entht1siasm, and ex-

a genera l unity of tone, softening and darkening

pressesloudly every emotion

in colour, until black, white, and grey alone

Such a character, when r eal, is unobj ectionable,

r emam , as the suitab le garb for old age : these

nay
, charming, in extre1ne y outh; bu t the great

t hin gs

imprnbabilityof its b eing real mak es it r ather

are every woman's bound en duty to

observe as long as she lives.
sicknes s, or loneliness -

No poverty} grief:

tho se mental causes

of her

natu re.

ludicrous,if not disag reeable, in mature

age,

when the passions die out or are quieted down,

which act so strongly upon the external life-

the sense of happin ess it self is calm , and the

can ju stify any one (to use a phrase probably

fullest, tenderest tide of which th e loving h eart

soon t o be obsolete, when charity and common-

is capable, may b e described by those " sti ll
waters" which "run

deep."

�3.28

GROWING OLD,

GROWI:\TGOLD.

To " grow old gracefully " as
h
'
one, w o truly
has exemplified her theorv h
.
·J,
as wntten and ex~
pressed it, is a good and beautiful th'
mg; to
grow old worthily, a better And th fi
·
e rst effort
to that end ·
t
1
.
Is no on y to r ecogmse, but to

329

..
·son often requires half a lif etime
A sensitiveper
·
hly used to this corporeal machine,

~~fu ocoog

.

to see, or, if not seeing, to

.
wholesome indifference both to its
to attam a
erfections and to learn at la st ,
defectsand P
'
would
acquire
from any teacheiwhat nob odY
· . nee that it is the mind alone which
but expene ,
is of any consequence ; that with a good

have faith in, the wisdom of that which we call

temper
, sincerity, and a moderate stock of brains

change, yet which is in truth progression; to

- or even the two former only -

follow openly and fearlessly, in ourselves and

bodycan in time be made useful, r espectabl e,

our daily life, the same law which makes spring

and agreeable, as a travelling-dress

pa ss into summer, summer into autum n, autumn

Manya one, who was absolutely plain in youth,

into winter, pr eserving an especial beauty and

thus grows pleasant and well-lookin g in declin-

fitn ess in each of the four .

ing years. You will hardly ever find anybody,

become person ally reconciled to the fact of
youth's

departure;

Yes, if women could only believe it, there is

any sort of

for the soul.

not ugly in mind, who is repulsi vely ugly in

a wonderful beauty even in growing old. The

personafter middle life.

charm of expression arising from softened temper

So with the character.

If a woman is ever to

or rip ened in tellect, often amply atones for the

bewiseor sensible the chances are that she will

loss of form and colouring; and, consequently,

have become so somewhere between thirty and

to those who never could boast either of these

forty
. Her natural good qualities will h ave de-

latter, yeare g ive more much than they take away.

'

�330

GROWING

GROWING OLD.

veloped; her evil ones will have either been partly
subdued) or have overgrown l
1·k
1er 1 e rampant
weeds ; for, however we may talk about people
being " not a whit altered''
as ever'' -

tl1e same
not one of us is, or can be, for long
-

a · t
JUS

. b .

331

OLD,

me to one among the number
.
term " the pleasures of growmg

Andthis rmgs
ofwhatI may
old.''

At our outs et, " to love" is the verb we are
mostprone t o

conJ·uo·ate . afterwards we discover,
o

'

the body we carry with us is the identical body

first it is by no means the sole
thattl1ough the
'
verbin the grammar of life, or even the only one

we were born with) or the one we supposed ours

that implies (vide L ennie or lVIurr ay) "to

seven years ago.

to do, or to suffer."

together, exactly the same; no more than that

Therein, as in our spiritual

b e,

To know - · that is, to

self which inhabits it, goes on a perpetual change

acquire,to find out, to be able to trace and ap-

and renewal: if this ceased, the result would be,

preciatethe causes of thin gs, gradually b ecomes

not permanence, but corruption.

a necessity,an exquisite delight.

I n moral and

vVe begin to

mental, as well as physical growth, it is im-

taste the full meaning

possible to remain

describesthe other world as a place where " we

stationary;

advance, we r etrograde.
improve" words!

if we do not

Talk of " too late to

'' too old to learn," &amp;c. ! Idle

A human being should be improving

of that promise which

shallknow even as we are 1cnown ."
this world, with

all its burdens

Nay, even
and

presentsitself in a ph ase of abstract

pains,
interest

with every day of a lifetime; and will probably

entirelyapart from ourselves and our small lot

have to go on learning throughout all the ages

therein,whether joyful or so1•rowful. V{e take

of immortality.

pleasure in tracing the

lar ge workings

of all

things- more clearly appreh ended as we cease

�332

333

GROWI NG OLD.

GROWING OLD.

to expect, or conduct ourselves a 'f
h
s l we expected
t at Providence will appear as D
'
eus ex machina
for our own private benefit vV
·
e are able to
pass out of our own small da·1 h
.
.
1y sp ere, and take
interest in the marvellous
.
government of the
umverse; to see the grand
k.
wor mgs of cause
an d effect, the educing of good out f
.
o apparent
evil,_ t_he clearing away of the knots in tangled

.
ly the abortive developments of a
sucha1e on
.
.
bl quality which, properly guided,
rwht
no e
'
0
•
b· e:fi.tsincalculable to the individual
resultsin en
and to society. For, undoubtedly, the after -

destm1es, general or individual, the wonderful

experie
nce of middle age.

agency of time, change and progress in our-

halfof life is the best working-time.

Beautiful

isyouth'senthusiasm, and grand are its achievements;but the most solid and permanent good
is done by th e persistent

strength

and wide

A principal agent in this is a bl essing which

selves, in those surrounding us, and in the world

rarelycomes till then-contentment:

at large.

resignation,a passive acquiescence in what can-

We have lived just long enough to

not mere

catch a faint tone or two of the large harmonies

notbe removed, but active contentment;

of nature and fate -

to trace the apparent plot

and cheaply, too, by a p ersonal share in that

and purpo se of our own life and that of others

dai1yaccount of joy and pain, which the longer

sufficiently to make us content to sit still and see

one lives the more one sees is pretty equally

the play played out.

balancedin all lives.

'

As I once heard said, a-we

bought,

Young people are happy-

feel we should like to go on living, were it only

enjoyecstatically, either in prospect or fruition ,

out of curiosity."

"the top of life i"

In small minds, thi s feeling expends itself in
meddling,

gossiping, scandal-mongcriug;

but

contented.

but they are very seldom

It is not possible.

Not till the

cloudymaze is half travelled through, and we

�334

335

GROWING OLD.

GRO°WIXGOLD.

begin to see the ob'Ject and
we be real]
purpose of 1.t
Y content.
, can
One great elemcnt in th.
shame to grant th
. is-nor let u think
at which G d
allow - con i t .
o and nature a] o
s s m the doubtful
.
marry or
quc tion, "To
not to marry?&gt;&gt;
.
. b emob h' .
generally settled . tl1
o y t I tune
•
J
e world's 1·c11
·
e curiosity or
1mpertment meddling th erewith h .
an end j which al
.
anng come to
one is a great b
woman
II
.
oon to any
..
er rclat10ns with th C Ot1lCl' 'C · .
erce t bl
b
x 11nP . p 1 Y c anoo-e th cu· . c}rnractcr, or slo,1lr
declmc. Thouo·h
t} 1crc are exception, of old
b

her wit ever so sparkling,

her influence ever

sopureand true, she will often find her listener

preferring bright

eyes to intellectual

conver -

sation, and the satisfaction of his heart to the
improvementof his mind.

. ?
hun.
Pleasant as men's

And who can blame

society undoubtedly

is ;

honourable,well-informed gentlemen, who meet

a lady on the easy neutral

ground of mutual

esteem, and take more pains to be agreeable
to her than, unfortunately,

her own sex fre-

quently do; th ey arc, after all, but men.

Not

lovers
who have become fJ.-JCll d• , and, fncnds
.
1
w 10m no new love couId make "rn ·c from
.

one of them is really necessary to a woman's

the fealty of years• , st i·11l·t usua 11.YhaJJ}Jens

-he has probably either met, or lost, or found.

If

a woman wi-;]1rs to r Ct am
. ]}('l'

mankind-not

~-

S\\'il\'

()\ l I'

.
an unnatural msh,
c·, c·11·in the

good and amiable&gt;

"

,]10 ]ia, c 1&gt;cc·n

l011~

used

to attention and acllllirntion i11 soc·il'I\' - :-he•

rnust &lt;lo it

she

]1as

uy )!)('alls

qui!C' d1ff&lt;"l'&lt;'lll rr:,111
all\

]1it ]1C'rto &lt;'Illploy&lt;·cl.

E11JI tlH·11,be

l1appincss,except the one whom, by this time,

Therefore, however uncomplimentary

this may

sound to those charming and devoted creatures,

"hich of course they always are in ladi es' younglac1ic'-

society, a lady past her youth mny

be well content to let t hem go b efore th ey depart

�336

837

GROW!XG OLD.

of their own accord.

I£

h

ear t e waning coquette
the ancient beauty as well as th
·di ,
'
e 01 nary
woman, who has had her fair share of both lo,e

• remind of the anecdote of the amwou
ld fam
bassadorin China.
To him, tos sing sleepless

and liking, must learn and show by her demean-

" Sir, may I put to you, and will you ans,,-er,

. bed, his old servant said :
on h1s

our she has learned that the only way to preserYe

three questions?

the unfeigned respect of the opposite sex, i by

governthis world very well before you came

letting them see that she can do without either

into it?))

their attention or their admiration.
Another
youth's

" Of course."

source of contentment, which in

fierce self-dependence it would be Yain

to look for-is

the recognition of one's own

comparative unimportance

F irst , did not the A]migbty

and helplessness m

the scale of fate .

We begin by thinking we

can do everything,

and that everything rests

with us to do; the merest trifle frets and disturb~
us J· the restless heart wearies itself with anxictie:;
over its own futur e, the tender one o, er tlw

"An d will H e not also do the same when you
. ?"
aregoneout of 1t
.

" I know that ."
" Then, do you not think, ~ir, that He is c.\ble
to goyernit ·while you are in it ? "

The ambassador smiled assent, turned round,
and lept calmly.

Alas! it is the slowest and most painfu l lesson
that Faith has to learn-Faith,

not Indifference

Many a young facl'

-to do teadfastly and pati ently all that lies to

&lt;lo I see wearing the inde scribable Marilla-look

her hand; and there leave it, believing that the

futur es of those dear to it.

-

'' troubled

about rnauy things"-"

holll l

.\lmightyi~ able to govern His own world .
lt is said that we suffer less as we grow older
z

�338

GltOWING

GitOWlNG

OLD.

on9
uu

OLD.

that pain, like joy, becomes dulled by repetition,

Faithalready referred to, we have come to view

or by the callousness that comes ·with ye . I
a1s. 11
one sense this is true If the. •
.
.
.
re is no JOY1ike the
joy of youth, the rapture of a first love, the thrill

lifein its entirety, instea d of agonisingly puzzling

of a first ambition, God's great mercy has also

eye. And that calm twilight, which by nature's

granted

that there is no angui sh like youth's

kindlylaw so soon begins to cre ep over the past,

so tot al, so hopeless, blotting out earth

throwsover all things a softened colouring which

pain;

over its disjointed parts, which are not, and were
nevermeant to be, made wholly clear to mortal

and heaven, falling down upon the whole being

altogether tran scends

and forbids

like a stone.

This never comes in after-lifeJ

supposethere is h ard ly any woman with a good

becau se the sufferer, if he or she have lived to

heart and a clear conscience, who does not feel,

any purpo se at all, has learned that God never

on the whole, the infinite truth of the verses at

meant any human being to be crushed under any

the head of thi s p aper, and of the other tvrn

calamity like a blindworm under a stone.

verse
s which I here add -

partly

regr et.

I

because a

For lesser evils, the fact that our interests

pleasant rhyme is a wholesome thing to cling

gradually take a wider range, allows more scope

about the memory, and partly in the hop e that

for the healing power of compensation.

some one may own or claim this anonymous

our

Also

stronge st idiosyncrasies, our loves, hates,

sympathies,

song:-

and prejudices, having assumed a

more rational and softened shape, we do not
present so many angles for the rough attrition
of the world.

Lik ewise, with the eye of that

" ' Do ye think of th e h opes that are gone, Jeanie,
As ye sit by your fire at nigh t?

Do ye gather them up as they faded fast
Like buds with an early blight?'

�341

GROW I N G OLD,

340

GROWING OLD,

fromfamily ties and restrictions, for this sort of

, I think of the hopes that are gone, Robin,

liberty is sadder than bond age, but she will be

Aud I mourn not their stay was fleet ;
For they fell as th e leaves of the red rose fall,

mistress over herself-

And were even in falling, sweet.'

she will h ave learned to

understand herself, menta lly and bodily.
' Do ye th ink of the friends that are gone, J eame,
.

Nor

is this last a small advantag e, for it often tak es

As ye sit by your fire at night?

years to comprehend, and act upon when com-

D o ye wish they were round you again once more

prehende
d, the phy sical p eculiar ities of one's own

By the hearth that they made so bright?'
' I think of the friends that are gone, Robin,

constitution. J\1uch valetudinarianism

T hey are dear to my heart as then :

among

wome
n arises from ign orance or neglect of the

But the best and the dearest among them all
I have never wished back again ! ' "

commonestsanitary laws ; and indifference to

Added to all these reasons, contentment faith

'

'

that grand pr eservative of a h ealthy body, a

cheerfulness, and the natura l calming down of

well-controlled, healthy m ind.

both p assions and emotions, which give a woman

are more att ainabl e in mi ddle age than youth;

greater capacity for usefulness in middle life

and,therefore, the sort of h appin ess th ey brin g

than in any previous portion of her existence, is

- a solid, useful, available h appiness-is

another - her greater independence.

in her power th en, th an at any earlier period.

By the

Both of th ese

more

time she h as arrived at the half of those three-

Andwhy ? Because she ha s ceased to th ink

score-years-and-ten which form the largest avail-

principally of h erself and h er own pleasures ;

able limit of active life, she will generally have

because, as I tr ied to show in a former chapt er,

become, in the best sense of the term, her own

happiness itself h as become to her an accidental

mistre ss.

thing, which th e good God 1nay give or ·with hold

I do not mean as regards exemption

�3-12

GRO'\VI NG OLD.

GROWING OLD.

as He sees n10st fit for her
the work £
.
- most adapted to
or which He means to use her.
generation. Th•
. .
lll her
is conviction of b . .
.
emg at once an
active and a passive o·
.
abent-self-working, worked
th1 ough , and worked upon
.
1
.
- 1s sure y consecrat10n enough to form tho
.
"' peace, nay, the happmess , of any good
, .
woman s 1ife : enough, be it
ever so solitary, to sustain it ~ntil the end.

· l st humilitv for labours of lov e which levc),
s1111p
e
J'
or rather raise, all classes to one common sphere

In what manner such a conviction should be

fallen the bringing up of whole families, and to

carried out, no one individual can venture to

whom has tacitly been acconlcd the head ship of

advise.

the same, by the love and respect of more than

VVomen's work is, in th'1s age, 1'f un-

of womanhood.

And many others, of whom the

world knows nothing, who have taken the wisest
course that any unmarried woman can take, and
made for themselves a home and a position :
some, as the ladi es Bountiful of a country nei gh bourhood; some, as elder sisters, on whom ha s

defined, almoat unlimit ed, when the woman her-

one generation thereof;

self so chooses.

painters, and profe ssional women generally, who

herself;

She alone can be a law unto

deciding, acting according to the cn·-

and some as writers,

make the most of the special gift apparently
allotted to them, believing that, be it great or

cum stan ces in which her lot is placed.
And have we not many who do so act ?

small it is not theirs either to lose or to wast e,

Women of property, whose name is a proverb

but that they n1ust one day r ender up to the

for generous and wise charities-whose

Master His own, with usury.

riches,

carefully guid ed, :fl.owinto innumerable channels,
freshen ing the whole land .

Women of rank and

influence, who use both, or lay aside both, in the

'

,~r

ould that, in steacl of educating our young

girls with the notion that they are to be wives,
or nothino0

matrons

J

with

an acknowledged

I

�344
position and duties o.

.h

.

wit no positionand dut.
at all-we could in t' l .
ies
s i mto them the p . . l
tr t b
rmc1pe
ia 'a ove and before all th
' ey are to be women'

3-t5

GI-:.OW
ING OLD.

GROWING OLD.

I

able regret , a torment from which there is no
escape bu t death. There is many a bridal chamber over which ought to be

placed no

vrnmen, whose character is of tl . ,
.
1en own makm~
and whose lot lies in their own hands.
th rouo·h any £ r h · d
o
oo is m cpendence of mankind
or adventurous misoo·amy.
let peo I
'
0
•
P e prate as
th
·n
ey w1 ' the woman was never born yet who

other inscription than that well -known one ovel'

would not cheerfully and proudly give herself

any sense of real m arriag e, with all its sanctity,

and her vvhole destiny into a worthy hand, at the

beauty, and glory, should ever be driven to ente1·

right

time, and under fitting circumstances-

such an accursed dool' !

that

is, when her whole heart and conscience

N:;

accompanied and sanctified the gift.
riage

ou ght

necessity,

But mar-

always to be a question not of

but choice.

Every girl ought to be

the gate of Dante's

hell:

" Lasciate ogni sper anza, vo1· c1·
11 en t ra t"
e.

Goelforbid that any woman, in whose heart is

But after the season of gro,ving old., there

few,the time of

old age; the withered

face, the failing strength,

the bodily powers

comes, to a

gradually sinking into incapacity

for both us e-

taught that a ha sty , loveless union, stamps upon

fulness and enjoyment.

her as foul dishonour as one of those connexions

this season has its sad aspect to a woman who

which omit the lega l ceremony altogether ; and

has never married;

that, howeve r pale, dreary, and toilsome a single

ration dies out, p robab ly h as long since died out,

life may be, unhappy married life must be tenfold

retains no longer, nor can expect to r etain, any

worse-an

flesh-and-blood claim upon a single human being.

ever-hauntiug

temptation, an incur-

I will no t say but that

an d who, as her own gene-

�346
GIW'iVI NG OLD,

VVhen all the downward ties wh· h .
d 1·
.
ic give to th
ec me of life a rightf I
I!
e
u comi.ort and th .
· th
'
e mterest
Ill
e new generation which b .- ·h
.
11g tens lt with a
perpetual hope, are to h . . h
.
e1 e1t er unknown 01.
mdul 0 ·ed · h. n
,
o
m c icuy on one side Of
,
.
·
course there
are except.ions; where an aunt h b
.
as een almost
like a mother, and a Iovino· and I
bl
·o
ovea e greataun t is as importan t a personage as any grand~other.

But I speak of things in general. It

GitOWlNG

·t
be that the extreme loneliness ·which,
And1 may
. d f . off appears to an unmarried woman
viewe a a1 '
e saddest of the inevitable result s
as one of th
of her lot, shall by that time have lost all its
pain, and be regarded but as the quiet, dreamy
hour "b etween the lights;"

when the day's

·s done, and we lean back, closing our eyes,

WOl'1{ 1

to think it all over before we finally go to rest,
or to look forwarcl, in faith and hope, unto the

a condition to which a sino·le wo
o
man must
~ake up her mind, that the close of her days

Coming i\1orning.

will be more or less solitary.

best of all the

IS

3-17

OLD.

A finished life -a

life which has made th e

materials

granted to it, and

Yet there is a solitude which old age feelsto

through which, be its web dark or bright, its

be as natural and satisfying as that rest which

pattern clear or clouded, can now be traced

seems such an irksomeness to youth, but which

plainly the hand of the Great D esigner; surely

gradually grows into the best blessing of our

this is worth living for?

lives; and there is another solitude, so full of

end it may be somc·what lonely ; though

peace and hope, that it is like Jacob's sleep

servant's and not a daughter's

in the wilderness, at the foot of the ladder of

the failing step ; th ough most likely it will be

angels .

strangers only who come about the dying bed,

" All things are less dreadful than they seem."

And though at its
a

arm may guide

close the eyes that no hu sband ever kiss ed, and

�L atel y pubfo:he 1l, in 2 vols. 2 1s.

N O T II I N G

3-18

BY THE AUTHOR
"A ,voMM:'s

GROWI NG OLD.

draw the shroud k. dl

m Y over th
b reast where n o child' s
e poor withered
head has e 1 .
such a life ·
ver am · still
is not to be .f d
,
,
It d
p1 ie , for it is a com
p e e life. It has fulfilled its
.
and retu rns to th a·· .
appointed course,
e iver of all breath
gave it. Nor will He foro•e .
, pure as He
up H. . I
o tit when He counteth
1s Jewe s.
On earth, too, for as much and

as long as the

happy dead, to whom all thino-s have long been
0
made equal' n eed remember1·n
g·, sueh a 1ife will
n ot have been lived i·n vam:
.
" O nly t he memory of the just

'l'HE E:r,,·n.

OF" J OHN H ALI F AX, GENTLEMAN ,"
THOUGHTS
ABOUTWO~rnN,"
&amp;c .

uw e cordi:illy 1·ccommend these volumes . 'l' _he 5:tm~ gr:iphie power, d~ep
ealthfu l sentiment, and mnstedy execution, wluch place that heauu ful
1
1 John
Hal ifax,' n,mong the E~lish classics, ar e everywhe re displayed ."-

i! .]t:

Chronicle.

"'fh e success which atte nded '_J ~hn Hal ifax'.' has no d~ubt !ed to_the issue of
, Nothing New,' two volumes, cons isting of a vanety of stones d1splaymg all those
\ erioi· merits whi ch have made that work one of the _most popular of the day .
~} ·e is a force and truthfulness abo ut these ta les which mark them as the pro iet1·on of no ord inary m ind, and we cordia lly r ecommend them to the perusal
dUC 1
of all lovers of fict •ion. "l~t
- os •

Al so , j ust published,

MR. ATKINSON'S TRAVELS IN ORIENTAL
AND ,¥ESTERN SIBE RIA,
1IONGOLIA, THE KIRGIIIS STEPPES, CHINESE TARTARY,
AND CENTRAL ASIA .

In one large volume , royal Svo ., embellished with upwards of Fifty
Illustrations, includ ing numerous beautifully coloured Plates, from
the Author 's original draw ings, and a map, 2l . 2s . bound .
"B y virtue alike of its text and of its pictures, we place th is book of travel
in t}le first rank among those illustrated gift-books now so much sought by the
public. It is a valuable addition to the literature of travel : it is a fam ous
conu·ibution, also, to the list of show-books for the presen t season."-Ezaminer.

RIDES AND REVER IES OF JESOP Sl\1ITH.
FARQ.UHAR

BY MAR.TIN

Sme lls sweet, and blossoms in the c!l!St."

NE 'vV.

TUPPER

.

1 vol. 10s. 6d.

"Mr . 'l'u pper's new work will do good set'Vice to his literary reputatio n. It
is writte n in a th oi1ghtfu l, suggestive spil'it, and combines with lucidity and
acuteness of ju dgment, freshness of fancy and elegance of sentiment.
In its
cheerful and instructive pages sound moral princip les are forcibly inculcateJ,
and every-day truths acqui re an ai1· of novelty, and are rendered peculiarly
at.ti_-a
ctive by being exp ressed in that sententious and epigrammatic language
wlu_ch s? la.1·gely contributed to the popularity of the author's former work,
entitled Prov erbi al Philvsophy.' "-frlurning
Post .

M~E M OIR S OF

BERA NG ER .

WlHTTEN

BY HH1SELF .
En glish Copyr igh t Ed ition . 1 vol. with Portrait .

0 R P I-I A NS .
By the Author of "

MARGARET

MA I T LAND . "

1 vol,

Londo n :-P rinted by G. BAnCLA v, Castle St. Leicester Sq.

HuRsTand

P ublishe rs, Successors to
13 Great l\'farl borough Str eet .

BLACKETT,

HENRY

CoLBURN,

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