Youth and middle age.
In some lives middle age is far happier than youth, with its tumults, its restlessness, its perpetual effervescence, its endless emotions. Youth looked back upon from the vantage ground of middle age is as a railway journey compared with a summer day’s boating on a broad, calm river. There was more excitement and enjoyment attached to the railway journey, but the serene and peaceful quiet of the pleasant drifting and the gentle rowing are by no means to be despised.
Crossing the half-way ground.
When youth first departs a poignant regret is felt. So much that is delightful goes with it, especially for a woman. About thirty years of age, an unmarried woman feels that she has outlived her socialraison d’étre, and the feeling is a bitter one, bringing with it almost a sense of shame, even guilt. But ten years later, this, in its turn, has passed, and a fresh phase of experience is entered on. One has become hardened to the gradual waning of youth, and theloss of whatever meed of attractiveness may have accompanied it. New interests spring up, especially for the married woman, with home and husband and children. The girls are marrying and settling down in their new homes, and the sons are taking to themselves wives, or establishing themselves in bachelor quarters, where they may live their own lives according to their own plan.
The period of adjustment.
The loss of the young ones is acutely felt at first, but after a while the fresh voices and gay laughter are less missed in the home, and the sense of loneliness begins to pass away. The sons who called or wrote so frequently at first, missing the father’s companionship and the mother’s tenderness, begin to fall off a little in their attentions, and are sometimes not seen for weeks at a time. The daughters become more and more absorbed in their own home lives, and though they seldom fall off in duty to the father and mother as sons do, their heart is less and less in the matter. It is inevitable! There is sadness in it, but no deep grief, as a rule. As the ties slacken, one by one, to be only now and then pulled taut, when occasion for sympathy in joy or sorrow arises, the process is so gradual and so natural that it is robbed of suffering. And as one of Nature’s decrees is that which causes us to adjust ourselves to altered surroundings after change or loss, we accept the altered circumstances, and allow our thoughtsand feelings to grow round what is left to us.
The aftermath.
And then comes a strange and beautiful aftermath, when there is a harvest of intellectual pleasures and the revival of a joy in life. Many and many a project, formed in younger days, but forgotten or submerged in the fulness of existence during intermediate years, is carried out during this late Indian summer, when health and spirits, energy and capacity, seemed to have renewed themselves like the eagle. Music, long neglected, begins again to play a happy part in the lives of some. In others, the brush is taken up after long years of abstinence, and the alchemy of art transforms into beautiful fruitfulness what else might have been a barren desert, now blossoming like a rose;Compensations.or, journeys into far lands, longed for all through life, are at last undertaken, with an eagerness of delighted anticipation that would not disgrace youth itself. This wonderful world is explored with keenest curiosity, with results of strange and unexpected enrichment of heart and brain. Is it not true that the more we see of human nature the more lovable we find it? Contrast the broad views and generous charity of those who have travelled far and wide with the censorious and critical attitude of the women who measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves.A wider outlook and a broader grasp of circumstances are among the consequences of living a fuller life.
Insular natures.
There are, it is true, women who, though they may stay at home through all their lives, are incapable of the carping criticism, the inexhaustible reprobation, and the endless hard judgments in which so many of the members of our sex indulge when youth is past and they begin to be embittered. Even these might be cured of lack of charity by a more comprehensive knowledge of the world and its inhabitants; by freeing themselves from insular prejudices and a sort of provincialism of opinion that is the outcome of narrow and limited experience. Some of them, at least, might benefit in this way; but it is to be feared that there are a few in whose nature harshness is inherent, and whose leisure will always be spent in deriding the motes they so distinctly see in their neighbours’ eyes. They have scarcely sufficient kindliness to try to get them out.
Dormant talents.
There have been cases in which some unsuspected talent has been developed in middle age. It has lain dormant through all the years when domestic life has claimed the finest and best of a woman’s energies, and with leisure has come the opportunity for displaying itself, and making for something in the life of its possessor. Women of middle age arenow being appointed to various posts of a semi-public character,New occupations.such as inspectors of workrooms under the Factory Act, washhouses and laundries, and Poor Law guardians. In almost every case the appointments have proved satisfactory, conscientious care being bestowed upon the duties and a praiseworthy diligence being exhibited. But in some instances a peculiar and not too common gift of organisation has been evolved in discharging such offices, surprising the individual herself as much as those who are associated with her. No promise of it appeared in youth, but here it is in middle age, a quality that would for ever have remained unguessed and unutilised had life been accepted with folded hands as so many accept it, alternating between dining-room and drawing-room and daily drive, with no greater interest than the affairs of neighbours.
After the storm and stress!
Youth is delightful, glorious, a splendid gift from the gods, but half realised while we have it, only fully appreciated when it is gone for ever. But let no young creature imagine that all is gone when youth is gone! Sunsets have charms as well as sunrise; and incomparable as is “the wild freshness of morning,” there is often a beautiful light in the late afternoon. The storm and stress are past, and the levels are reached, after the long climb to theuplands. We still feel the bruises we sustained in the long ascent, but the activity of pain has passed, and we have learned the lesson of patience, and know by our own experience what youth can never be induced to believe—that Time heals everything.The joy of the harvest.We can cull the harvest of a quiet eye, and our hearts are at leisure from themselves. Cheerfulness, and even brightness, replace the wild spirits of girlhood, and our interests, once bound within the narrow channel of a girl’s hopes and wishes, and then broadening only sufficiently to take in the area of home, are now dispersed in a far wider life. Philanthropy finds thousands of recruits among middle-aged women, and many of such beginners rise to the rank of generals and commander-in-chief. Youth is always looked back upon with a sentiment of longing,In praise of mellowing years.but middle age does not deserve to be decried. One, at least, who has attained it, can testify that at no other period of her life could she more intensely enjoy the lark’s song, the freshness of the spring meadows, the beauty of the summer fields and woods, the pleasures of music and painting and oratory, and of new scenes and fresh experiences in a world that seems inexhaustibly novel the more we know of it. There are long, monotonous days in girlhood when one ardently wishes forsomething to happen to make a change; but in middle age life is full of interests, and days seem far too short for all that we should like to pack into them. There is no monotony in middle age if health is good and the energies are kept alive by congenial work. Nor is the exultant joy in mere living quite dead within the heart of middle age.“Hope springs immortal.”It breaks out now and then on a bright spring day when the sun is shining and the lark is singing, and when perennial hope points to yet brighter days to come. For hope sings songs even to the grey-haired, difficult as the young may find it to believe it. We were surely meant to be happy, we humans, so indomitable is the inclination towards joyfulness under circumstances the most adverse. It is easy enough in youth, and even the sceptic, the pessimist, the cynic, if they live long enough, will find that it is not so very difficult in middle age, when scepticism, pessimism, and cynicism are apt to be outgrown. There lies the true secret of the matter. There is a joy in growth, and we must see to it that we do not cheat ourselves of it. Stunted natures are seldom happy ones, and their middle age is merely mental shrinkage, with a narrowing of the heart and a corresponding drought in all the sources of joy.
The gist of the matter.
In one of Christina Rossetti’s loveliest songs, she refers to the meeting in a better world of two who loved andwere parted here. And in the last line she wistfully and pathetically asks: “But shall we be young and together?” There lies the whole gist of the matter. If we are to be young again, what boots it if the loved faces of long ago are lacking? Could happiness be indeed happiness without these?
“After many years.”
Sometimes two who have loved each other in their youth meet again when middle age has come to both. Such a meeting can never be commonplace to either. Nor do the two see each other as they are visible to ordinary acquaintances. In the eyes of memory, the grey hair is replaced by the sunny locks of youth; the saddened eyes are bright again and eagerly out-looking into a world of abundant promise; the worn and furrowed brow becomes smooth and white, the pale cheeks touched with youthful bloom; and with a delicious sense of reciprocity each knows that the lost youth of both is present to the mind of either.Memory’s magic.Neither says inwardly of the other, “Oh, what a change!” as is the case with ordinary acquaintances. Oh, no! For each of these two the other is young again. They are both young again, and together. The gentle wraiths of past joys take them by the hand and lead them back to youth’s enchanted land, to the days when love touched everything with a radiantfinger, turning the world and the future celestial rosy red.
“Fed on minors.”
What middle-aged women regret is the well-remembered friends that were their companions in the old days, “when morning souls did leap and run.” And now they are “fed on minors” when they pause and listen to their thoughts and the rhythm that they make. “The world’s book now reads drily,” except, indeed, for such as are enwrapped and mummified in the garments of the reiterant daily commonplace.
The wider view.
The only way to subdue regrets is to take the wider view, looking out on the great world as might a mouse from the granary door, over hill and dale and stream and distant town, blue sky and far green sea, realising how infinitesimally small a part of the whole is each individual life. There is a kind of comfort, after all, in insignificance. And can anything be more redolent of that quality than middle age?
“What is it all but a trouble of gnatsIn the gleam of a million million of worlds?”
The common lot.
To grow old is tragic, especially for women. Men feel it, too, there is small doubt. I once spoke on the subject with one of the best-known men of up-to-date journalism, and we exchanged condolences on the passing of youth and the wild freshness of morning. We both agreed that at times we felt as bright and blithe, as merry and as full of fun, as in the days of our fleeting teens, though at times the world weighs heavily, and its burdens are duly felt.
In the eyes of the others.
We had each undergone an experience which, to thousands of others must be a landmark in the years. It was not the first grey hair! That means nothing nowadays. Nor was it a touch of rheumatism. Do not babies of nine or ten experience that cramping ill? No! It was merely seeing ourselves as reflected from the mind of another. My companion had heard himself, in some legal proceedings, in which he had been a witness, described as a middle-aged man. With a shockof surprise he had realised that this really applied to him! To every one of us comes this horrid moment of recognition. Feeling young, and with daily sight of ourselves unrealising the marks that Time indites upon our faces, we go on from year to year with a vague idea that we are always as we were, or nearly so. And then comes the rough quarter of an hour in which enlightenment arrives. It is good and salutary, but very unpleasant!
The inevitable moment.
One of the most beautiful women I know, whose hair is prematurely white, with an exquisitely picturesque effect of snowiness above the pink of soft cheeks, and the youthful light of deep grey eyes, was a little over forty when, talking one day with a comparatively new acquaintance, she was astonished to hear her say, “My husband says you are a dear old lady.” “Old lady!” The husband was, himself, her elder. The remark rankled for a long time, though I tried to convince her that only the most superficial and careless of observers would ever connect the idea of age with her.
Time, the thief.
The reason that women feel growing old so much more than men is that they know very well that they are more or less failures if they are not ornamental. Even the plainest of women can be decorative in her home surroundings so long as she has the bright eyes, freshcheeks, and the rounded, yet slight contours of youth. But after awhile Time begins “throwing white roses at us” instead of red, and every passing year puts into his laden wallet a little light from the eyes, a little bloom and softness from the cheeks, a little gloss and colour from the hair, a little lightness from the step, a little blitheness from the smile, and bestows upon us, in their stead, a varied assortment of odds and ends, which are, as to value, exactly what we choose to make them. It needs a little moral alchemy to turn them to gold and diamonds, pearls and opals; and, failing this transforming touch, Time’s exchanges seem sorry enough.
THREE WAYS OF GROWING OLD.
The best way.
There are three ways of growing old. In two of them there lies a possibility of benefiting by the New Year’s gifts of the old man with the scythe. The best way is to face things, and deliberately accept the situation, stepping out briskly to climb that steep bit of hill, and enter the shadows that lie beyond the crest. It is a good time to be optimistic. Like Mark Tapley’s cheerfulness, it is most valuable in moments of depression. To believe, with Browning, that—
“God’s in His heaven! All’s well with the world,”
is the best restorative for sinking spirits that see the best and brightest part of life behind them, and shrink from the bleakness of old age that lies before them. To feel young in one’s own thoughts and emotions is not always a consolation. The young ones have interests of their own, apart from ours. They may be too kind and gentle to let us perceive it, but there is almost always somegêneor constraint upon them in the presence of the middle-aged.Growing old in thought.They enjoy themselves more when in the society of their contemporaries. The expression of their faces, bright and sunny, tells us that. It clouds over with seriousness, if not with gloom, when they leave the young ones and share the companionship of the elders. The latter, if young at heart, feel this with many a recurrent pang; but if they are elderly in their thoughts it gives them no trouble. They accept it calmly, as in the natural course of things. But with some of us it seems most unnatural that we should grow old. The whole being cries out against it, almost as urgently rebellious as we feel against an injustice.Regions to be conquered.But all this emotion has to be conquered, and we have only to take ourselves in hand, once for all, and the thing is done. Let the young ones be happy in their own way. We had our day! Let them have theirs. It will, at best, be sadly brief. Let them make the most of it.
THE SECOND WAY.
Too easy submission.
But there is a way of too freely submitting to grow old. A friend of mine sometimes says, “If you will insist on making yourself into a doormat you need not feel surprised if people wipe their boots on you.” Quite so. Well, if we women lie down and regard friendly old Time as an inimical Juggernaut there is nothing to prevent us from sinking into dreary dowdiness, from wearing prunella shoes, and filling our husbands with the consternation that is inseparable from this elderly kind of footgear and false fronts.Middle age and dress.We need not too literally accept the warnings of disinterested friends, who think we should be told that we “dress too young,” or that the fashion of our coiffure is inappropriate to advancing years. Far better is it to dress too young than too old; to keep our heads in consonance with the coiffures of the day than to date ourselves in any conspicuous way.Good sense.The women of our upper classes are sensible in this matter. So long as they can cover their heads with hair they do not wear caps. Not until seventy or so do they envelop themselves in the cumbrous mantles that once were devised especially for middle age, a period of life which, after all, is not adapted to weight-carrying. In travelling they wear hats or toques, and for everydaycostume the tailor-made suit is generally adopted; while for afternoon wear handsome and elaborate dresses are prepared. There is no reason why elderly women should carry weight for age when the latter becomes a disability instead of an advantage.A crushing conspiracy.And yet, in the fashion journals, as well as in the shops, all the heaviest and ugliest gowns, and all the least attractive of the mantles, to say nothing of the most hopelessly hideous bonnets, are presented to the elderly customer for her choice.
Shining examples.
And with regard to other things, middle-aged women make themselves into doormats for Time to tread upon. Because no enterprise or variety in life is expected of them, they never dream of originating any. There is no thought of foreign travel, of seeing all the interesting places where history is made, of keeping alive and awake and intent. It is only exceptional women, like the Duchess of Cleveland, Lord Rosebery’s wonderful mother, who go round the world at seventy, and begin to write a book involving a visit to the eastern lands, where Lady Esther Stanhope, her great aunt, lived such a romantic life. Our Queen began to learn Hindustani when nearly seventy years of age. These shining examples are the ones to follow!
THE THIRD WAY.
Defying time.
The third way of growing old is to attempt to defy Time—regard him as an enemy to be thwarted, and endeavour to hide his detested ravages under a false array of cosmetics, dyes, and other appliances. It is a despicable and silly way, but one cannot refuse a meed of compassion to those who practise it. They are generally women who have been beautiful, and it is so hard to let beauty go without an attempt to detain her. It is a great gift, and to lose it is, to those who have possessed it, a terrible thing. Small wonder that they hug its remnants close, and wrap its rags about them. And, after all, the day must come when the tawdry imitations stand revealed for the useless things they are, even to those who pinned their faith upon them.
“The best is yet to be.”
But time gives us all something in return; a growing patience which brings sweetness and gentleness in its train; a wider outlook on the world and a deeper insight into the hearts of friends; a tender sympathy with those who suffer, and a truer sense of comradeship with our fellow-travellers on life’s road. And all these things write themselves clearly enough on the ageing faces, sometimes beautifying what once was almost destitute of charm; andsometimes spiritualising what once was beautiful in form and colour, but lacked the loveliness that results from an equal balance of mind and heart.
UNWIN BROTHERS, PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON.
Uniform with this Volume:Long 8vo, cloth, round corners, ONE SHILLING.MANNERS FOR WOMEN.By MADGE of “TRUTH.”(Mrs. HUMPHRY.)TWENTIETH THOUSAND.The Daily Telegraphsays:—“In the knowledge of the etiquette of society as it concerns her sex Mrs. Humphry is not surpassed by any writer of the day. No one knows better than she how girls ought to behave in ‘company,’ and here she gives them most useful information and excellent advice.... Mrs. Humphry knows as much about dinners as about dress, and is competent to tell her fair reader what to provide as well as what to wear.”The Court Journalsays:—“Full of valuable points and sound common sense.”The Starsays:—“‘Manners for Women’ gives us some help we can heartily appreciate. Just what to do at all times is let drop while we are carried along by each interesting chapter. The friend you would like to ask, but are afraid to, about a simple little matter on which you have some doubt is here ready to speak from out the pages of a book.”Truthsays:—“Upon such a subject neither sex could have a better ‘guide, philosopher, and friend’ than ‘Madge.’”The Morning Leadersays:—“Written with sound judgment and in excellent taste, therein differing from the usual handbook on Manners; it forms an admirable guide on points on etiquette.”The Manchester Couriersays:—“The book is another proof of the theory that good feeling and good sense are the basis of good manners, and its information is given with a tact, freshness, and vigour that cannot fail to commend themselves.”The Gentlewomansays:—“Anxious mothers will find Mrs. Humphry’s advice of much help in the turmoil of wedding arrangements, and her menus will be of assistance to hostesses undecided what to set before their guests.”London: JAMES BOWDEN, 10,Henrietta St., W.C.
Uniform with this Volume:
Long 8vo, cloth, round corners, ONE SHILLING.
MANNERS FOR WOMEN.
By MADGE of “TRUTH.”
(Mrs. HUMPHRY.)
TWENTIETH THOUSAND.
The Daily Telegraphsays:—“In the knowledge of the etiquette of society as it concerns her sex Mrs. Humphry is not surpassed by any writer of the day. No one knows better than she how girls ought to behave in ‘company,’ and here she gives them most useful information and excellent advice.... Mrs. Humphry knows as much about dinners as about dress, and is competent to tell her fair reader what to provide as well as what to wear.”
The Court Journalsays:—“Full of valuable points and sound common sense.”
The Starsays:—“‘Manners for Women’ gives us some help we can heartily appreciate. Just what to do at all times is let drop while we are carried along by each interesting chapter. The friend you would like to ask, but are afraid to, about a simple little matter on which you have some doubt is here ready to speak from out the pages of a book.”
Truthsays:—“Upon such a subject neither sex could have a better ‘guide, philosopher, and friend’ than ‘Madge.’”
The Morning Leadersays:—“Written with sound judgment and in excellent taste, therein differing from the usual handbook on Manners; it forms an admirable guide on points on etiquette.”
The Manchester Couriersays:—“The book is another proof of the theory that good feeling and good sense are the basis of good manners, and its information is given with a tact, freshness, and vigour that cannot fail to commend themselves.”
The Gentlewomansays:—“Anxious mothers will find Mrs. Humphry’s advice of much help in the turmoil of wedding arrangements, and her menus will be of assistance to hostesses undecided what to set before their guests.”
London: JAMES BOWDEN, 10,Henrietta St., W.C.
Uniform with this Volume:MANNERS FOR MEN.By MADGE of “TRUTH.”(Mrs. HUMPHRY.)THIRTY-SIXTH THOUSAND.Long 8vo, cloth, round corners,One Shilling.“Always in most excellent taste as well as astonishingly complete. Certainly the world would be a very much pleasanter place to live in if all men did read and practise her admirable precepts.”—Saturday Review.“It is a charmingly-written code of true manners.”Leeds Mercury.“Very welcome will be this little book, written sensibly and brightly.”—Daily Telegraph.“Mrs. Humphry’s book will be worth more than its weight in gold.... Excellent, robust common sense, tempered by genuine goodness of heart, is a characteristic of everything she writes.”—The Queen.“A very dainty and instructive epitome of all that we ought to be.... To a shy young man this tactful volume should be invaluable.”—To-Day.“This admirable little book may well be commended to the notice of ill-mannered young men, as well as to that of the shy youth about to take his first plunge into society. The versatile ‘Madge’ may be heartily congratulated on the faultless manner in which she has performed her task.”—The Lady.“A little volume for which there was need. Many a young man will be relieved from doubt and difficulty by perusing its pages.”—Army and Navy Gazette.“Mrs. Humphry has accomplished a difficult task with infinite tact and discretion.... A book which every young man of to-day should read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.”—Gentlewoman.“Mrs. Humphry discourses with knowledge, judgment, and good taste.”—Globe.“‘Manners for Men’ is written with so much humour and good sense that a ticklish theme is robbed of all its farcical aspect, and presented to us with a convincing authority.”—The Sketch.London: JAMES BOWDEN, 10,Henrietta St., W.C.
Uniform with this Volume:
MANNERS FOR MEN.
By MADGE of “TRUTH.”
(Mrs. HUMPHRY.)
THIRTY-SIXTH THOUSAND.
Long 8vo, cloth, round corners,One Shilling.
“Always in most excellent taste as well as astonishingly complete. Certainly the world would be a very much pleasanter place to live in if all men did read and practise her admirable precepts.”—Saturday Review.
“It is a charmingly-written code of true manners.”Leeds Mercury.
“Very welcome will be this little book, written sensibly and brightly.”—Daily Telegraph.
“Mrs. Humphry’s book will be worth more than its weight in gold.... Excellent, robust common sense, tempered by genuine goodness of heart, is a characteristic of everything she writes.”—The Queen.
“A very dainty and instructive epitome of all that we ought to be.... To a shy young man this tactful volume should be invaluable.”—To-Day.
“This admirable little book may well be commended to the notice of ill-mannered young men, as well as to that of the shy youth about to take his first plunge into society. The versatile ‘Madge’ may be heartily congratulated on the faultless manner in which she has performed her task.”—The Lady.
“A little volume for which there was need. Many a young man will be relieved from doubt and difficulty by perusing its pages.”—Army and Navy Gazette.
“Mrs. Humphry has accomplished a difficult task with infinite tact and discretion.... A book which every young man of to-day should read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.”—Gentlewoman.
“Mrs. Humphry discourses with knowledge, judgment, and good taste.”—Globe.
“‘Manners for Men’ is written with so much humour and good sense that a ticklish theme is robbed of all its farcical aspect, and presented to us with a convincing authority.”—The Sketch.
London: JAMES BOWDEN, 10,Henrietta St., W.C.