I alwaysregard the expression ‘coming-out’ as rather a ridiculous one, when used by the ordinary upper middle-class household; yet, as it has become a recognised part of our vocabulary, I suppose we must all adopt it when we talk of that enchanting period of a girl’s life which occurs when she is about eighteen, and is in some measure emancipated from the control and ever-watchful care which have been her portion from the day she was born until the joyful moment arrives when the books may be closed and the schoolroom-door shut, and she takes her place among her elders as a right, and not on sufferance any more.
Here I should like to pause for a moment to impressupon all mothers who may read my book that a girl should remain absolutely in the schoolroom until she reaches her eighteenth birthday; the longer she can be kept from the turmoil of life, from the shams and wearinesses of ordinary society, and from any temptations to shirk her education, the better. She will not be pleased with her mother at the time; she will think regretfully and, may be, angrily of those of her less guarded, more ‘fortunate’ (?) friends, who are ‘all over the place’ at seventeen, who never read an instructive book or think of anything save dress, admirers, and what dissipation is in store for them next; but when she looks back at her girlhood from the altitude of that calm, sheltered middle-age I wish for all girls for whom I care, she will see what she has to thank her mother for, and all the disagreeable feelings she had then towards her will be atoned for a thousandfold in the flood of grateful affection which will fill her heart, and in the love which she will entertain for one who trained her so carefully, and who cared for no present lack of affection, because she knew quite well she would infallibly and at no very late date reap her reward.
The years from sixteen to eighteen are undoubtedly the years during which a girl learns most, and in a properly guarded household she would then comprehend more fully than at any other time how necessary it is to use every moment for the best. She would form habits of study, regularity, and appreciation of what is best in art and literature which she would never lose, and which would only develop as years went on; and she would, furthermore, lay in a stock of health, on which she could draw at will when the real stress of living begins, and she finds herself in her turn with a heavy burden of real work on her shoulders, and has a house to manage, a husband to please, and children to bring forth and care for unceasingly.
And this latter is the strongest argument I can use against girls being ‘brought out’ too young; if they are they may marry. I knew one parent criminal enough to allow a child of sixteen to take upon herself this burden; and should they marry and have children they entail on themselves and on unborn generations misery compared with which a life spent always in the schoolroom would be a life of Elysian and purest delight.
The first thing to consider with our girls is their health: let that stand before every single thing; dress them as little mites carefully and warmly; as young girls insist on warm clothing and perpetually dry feet and skirts; never allow a game of tennis on a damp lawn to pass by without seeing that no damage is done thereby; and then, furthermore, insist on early bed until the lesson-time is over; allow no dances of any kind, forbid entirely the children’s parties, which are at the root of half the epidemics, the affectations and the bad manners of the present day; while you take care that pleasant companionship, treats in the shape of afternoon concerts or plays, or tennis-parties with children their own age, these give the necessary relaxation, and you can face the ‘coming-out’ gaieties with a light heart, knowing quite well that your daughter has the necessary physique to stand the strain, and that she has arrived at a common-sense age, and will be able to know when she has had enough pleasure, the while she will care herself for something beside balls and parties, albeit she will in no measure despise a proper allowance of both.
I am no Puritan; I do not object to dancing or theatres, or any other amusement, but I do plead for moderation in all things, and that a girl may have time for something beside mere play. I ask it not only because their mental health must suffer, but because their physique cannot possibly stand that present strain and yet remain intact ready to bear the yet greater strain to which most women are exposed during their married life. I know only too well what an uncontrolled girlhood and unending gaieties did for me, and I am only again writing out of my own experience in the hope that I may save some few girls from the misery in store for them if they begin their fashionable life before they are eighteen and if, when they begin it, they have no moderation about it, and go from ball to ball, party to party, until their faces become thin and wretched, their bloom goes, their tempers and noses sharpen together, and they are unstrung and miserable just at the time when life demands most from them, and they ought to be as well and happy as they are miserable, nervous, and broken in spirits and in health.
I actually have known one mother introduce her daughter at seventeen because the next daughter was farprettier, and she wished to give No. 1 ‘a chance’ before No. 2 appeared on the scene. Can anything be more ignoble than that? And it is to save both mothers and daughters from a similar fate to that which will overtake this couple that I am pleading for the girls; that, in fact, they may be saved from themselves by the prompt action of those who ought to be the first to shield their children from a too early contact with the world.
I should myself keep a girl to regular hours until she was eighteen, but even after that, as I have shown in my last chapter, she should have employment and occupation. Until she was eighteen she should never be in bed later than 9.30, and she should always be down at 8.30, while she ought never to be allowed to go to any large dance before then. Small ones, ending at 11, should be very sparsely attended, and those not at all until she was past seventeen. When the auspicious date of her eighteenth birthday draws near, a great effort should be made to celebrate it properly. On that date a girl comes into her kingdom, accepts at your hands the sceptre of self-rule and the crown of an educated and well-guarded girlhood, and certainly some special notice should be taken of such an occasion.
Not, please, by her being presented at Court; the present-day rush of the wives of wine merchants, successful upholsterers, and tradesmen of all kinds has made what was once a stately and beautiful ceremony a mockery indeed. Of course girls whose parents are about the Court, who have long pedigrees and ancient titles, are bound to be introduced to the Head of Society and to take their places round the throne; but just think for a moment what it means to the ordinary middle-class family, the frightful expense, the worry and strain of the presentation, the fatigue and showing off at the ‘Drawing Room teas’ afterwards, and, finally, the dead and unpleasant certainty that they will never be asked to one Court function, that they are no nearer being the bosom friend of the princesses than they were before, and that their social status has not been improved in the least; indeed, it has gone down, for old friends sneer at the foolishness and scoff when they see the name in the paper, remembering with redoubled force the counters of the wine merchant and shopkeeper, whichwould have been entirely forgotten had not the ‘fierce light which beats upon the throne’ been reflected on those who approach it and shown up the flaws in the pedigree which were on the way to oblivion, but which give ample scope for scoffing from the very lips which are drinking the tea at the ‘reception’ after the Drawing Room, where all are wondering what the dresses cost, and whether Jones or Smith, as the case may be, will last over the season, or whether he will marry off his daughters before the crash comes and all go under together!
Remember, I am not scoffing at trade; it would ill become me to do so; but I am simply asking my readers to be sensible and to be frankly and absolutely themselves. Personally I would far rather pin my rights to being a lady on the fact that art and literature have been my sponsors than on being the great-great-granddaughter of a king’s mistress or a ruffianly robber of other men’s goods; but that has nothing to do with the subject. A waiter on courts should have business at those courts; therefore I say that those who cannot consider themselves owing the Queen a call, and the courtesy of showing her their girls as they grow up to take their places, either as friends or servants, have any right to go there, and that they had much better stay at home and not make themselves ridiculous by an attempt to be and seem what they can never really be.
Let us suppose that our eloquence has prevailed, and that the girl has reached her eighteenth birthday, and there is no talk of her being presented, or any such nonsense; but still something must be done to celebrate the auspicious event. If the birthday is in autumn or winter, or very early spring, there is no reason why a dance should not be indulged in, more especially if it can be afforded, or if there is room for such dissipation. These two things are, of course, to be considered before anything else.
A ball can cost any sum anyone likes to spend on it; all depends on the purse and the ideas. If we engage a good hall and band, go in for a regular and first-rate supper, any amount of flowers, and so on, I tremble to think what the bills may come to; but all can be ascertained by writing to the different places where such things are to be found. Gunter will give an estimate per headfor the supper; the Prince’s Hall secretary will tell you the charges per night; Mrs. Green, of Crawford Street, W., will tell you what her fee for decorating the room would be; and Mitchell, of Bond Street, would provide the band. But people who can afford to arrange mattersen grand seigneurare not likely to come to me for advice; if they did, I should only hand them over to the above-named authorities. Still, if these lucky folk should come across my book, this will tell them what to do. But ordinary folk can give a very enjoyable dance for a little over 50l.to about 125 people, making the hours from eight to twelve, and having a stand-up supper at about 5s.a head, ending up with soup just before the guests start for home; and I fancy that, if one had a sufficiently large house, and could manage the supper oneself, it could be done for very much less, particularly if one has a stand-up supper, which is really all that can be required when people have dined late, and only want something to carry them over the later hours and the extra amount of fatigue.
To make such a dance a success, the floor must be perfect, a band of from three to five performers engaged, and people must be thoroughly well introduced to each other, and, if possible, no girl must be seen sitting out without a valiant struggle on the part of the hostess to prevent such a sad occurrence by finding her a partner. I cannot countenance or believe in dances, or, in fact, any social gathering, where there are no introductions; it is simply an excuse for laziness on the part of the hostess, which all too often condemns her guests to a great deal of misery and dulness. Of course the theory is a perfectly correct one; the practice, however, cannot, in my opinion, be too heartily condemned. There will always bedébutantesand shy girls who know very few people, and these cannot possibly dance unless we see they know men to dance with.
Is there any misery like the misery of a girl who is dying to dance, who loves the exercise for its own sake, and who has to sit out on a bench, her feet impatiently tapping the floor, and her little heart ready to break with disappointment, while she sees married women, who ought to know better, and who ought never to dance at all as long as a girl is sitting out, prancing all about the placeand caring nothing for the poor young things whose day it is? As long as they enjoy themselves, that is quite enough for them.
The watchful hostess will have none of these engaging little ways at her dances: the girls are provided for first, the matrons after; and as this would be impossible were introductions done away with, I would impress upon my readers to cling to this old fashion, and to see that the girls enjoy themselves, no matter who else do not. Except as chaperons married women are out of place in the ballroom, and should not be encouraged to come there; if they do their duty by their homes, their husbands, and their children, they could have neither time nor inclination for such a pursuit.
When my own daughter ‘came out’ the other day, we had about 125 people to a dance in Watford, and it cost us just under 50l.Because our house was too small to have any festivity in, we had to engage rooms, which cost about 5l.; the supper cost about 25l., at 5s.a head, including soup, aërated waters, and waiters, and a certain amount of decoration for the approach, anterooms, &c. We had plenty of moss, plants, &c., which our own gardener arranged. The local band of three performers cost 3l.3s., and the rest went for wine, programmes, and odds and ends generally. The dance was certainly most successful, and went off very well, and was quite as much as we could afford. Naturally I should have preferred much grander doings—a first-rate supper, the ‘Blue Hungarian’ band, or any other excellent one; but it would have been foolish to refuse to entertain at all because we could not manage these gorgeous details—details that were as much above our means as they would have been quite unnecessary in Watford.
But the dance was successful, because the girls were pretty and the men pleasant, because old friends came down and rallied round us, and because we all saw the girls did not sit down once, that there was no flagging, and that all who could be introduced were made to know each other. I dare say there were plenty of people who wondered they did not have a gorgeous supper, but I do not care if they did, and I certainly am never going to precipitate myself head first into the Bankruptcy Court because someoneelse gives what, no doubt, they can well afford to do, but which I could not, and which, were I to do, I should soon come utterly to an end.
I mention all these personal details to show that what we did can be done by other people, certainly by people who have a big house and plenty of servants, at a moderate cost, and I hope I shall not have become a ‘mock of many’ because of all I have said; but as I always think personal experience frankly given is worth any amount of polite theory, I give my experience here as elsewhere, hoping that it may be of use to many beside myself.
If the damsel is born in the summer, I strongly advise a tennis-or garden-party, though, alas! in this climate we are so dependent upon the weather that I mention this with a certain amount of diffidence; but given one of the lovely June days Nature sometimes kindly dowers us with, and can anything on earth be pleasanter than one of these al-fresco gatherings may be if properly managed?
The garden is looking its best, and, if the seats are judiciously arranged and a proper amount of amusement legislated for, the hostess can greet her friends with a light heart; she can be quite sure of a successful party without too much trouble or expense on her part.
The refreshments should be either in a tent on the lawn or else in any room that may open out into the garden. Should there be no such room, I strongly advise the tent to be procured (one can always be borrowed at a most reasonable expense), as, if the refreshments are not easily accessible, the party becomes scattered: the timid do not like to separate themselves and go in search of sustenance, while the greedy can seclude themselves and snatch an undue share of the good things prepared for the entire company.
Given the tent, or the room, and we can proceed to place very long and narrow tables there, which we should decorate with as many flowers as we possibly can get together, and should we have very many Londoners coming to our gathering we should put a host of the little baskets Whiteley sells for about 4½d.a set under the tables, and fill them at parting with what we garnished the tables with. Roses and lilies and greenery are not to be despised in London, and our friends will come down to us cheerfullyanother year if they carry away a sweetly-scented souvenir of our last gathering. People don’t mind carrying flowers, and we can always spare those we have used for garnishing the table.
Among the flowers we should put large imari bowls of strawberries and cream ready for ladling out on small dishes; the strawberries should be denuded of their hulls, and the whipped cream, which can be thickened with white of egg and made palatable with sugar, should be piled high on the fruit, which, of course, should be unbroken. If a refrigerator is handy, the prepared fruit should be kept there until the last moment, and only produced when the guests have begun to assemble, the places for the bowls being kept by plates to prevent the symmetry of the table being spoiled by a careless or hurried maid-servant.
I strongly advise all the cakes being bought from Buszard, who will, moreover, tell you honestly the amount of the different kinds you should have for the number you expect; and, as a rule, you should prepare for a few more folks than you have down on your list. If a very fine day people often bring friends with them. I personally like them to do this, and if you yourself happen to know anyone who possesses little girls, and who is coming herself, I advise you to ask her to bring the children. Well-brought-up children are delightful additions to a garden-party; they look like bright butterflies flitting about, and should therefore be encouraged to come, not by a written invitation, which would make them unduly prominent and of consequence in their own eyes, but by a casual mention, which cannot inflate them, and yet will show they have been thought about by us. Beside the fruit and cakes, a little finely cut and rolled brown bread and butter should be prepared, but only a little; few people eat it; as a rule it spoils their gloves, and they do not want it, and it is wasted if left, and if the weather is really summerlike and hot, ices should be provided, and also iced lemonade, gingerbeer, and claret-cup. No other wine is requisite. And as wine is frightfully dear, and should never be given unless really good, I advise it being omitted altogether, unless expense is no object. When the garden-party can be from 6 to 9.30 the garden could be illuminated with coloured lamps, and a cold supper succeed the tea. This, of course,is the ideal garden-party, but one which is out of the reach of most people who have a great many friends, and want to see them without an undue and enormous expense.
The tennis-courts, of course, should be swept and garnished and newly marked out for the occasion, and several enthusiasts over this (to me, idiotic) game should be told off to see that all who want to play can do so. If this is not done, we shall be vexed by seeing this game, which is so dear to so many, quite left alone; and I defy any hostess to attend to her guests and keep the tennis-balls rolling at the same time. She must engage the help of her younger guests, and to them must be left the everlasting trouble of making up the sets, which seem to me to have only just begun as they are finished. Now, in the dear departed days of croquet, a hostess had nothing to do but make up the sets of eight and set them going. She saw nothing more of her guests, a well-played set of eight lasting quite as long as the garden-party itself could be expected to do.
Anyhow, there must be something beside tennis to amuse our guests, and I think a band is almost a necessity, particularly if one is blessed with a decent local band; then the expense will not be ruinous. One can get an excellent string band from town for about 20l.I particularly like Mrs. Hunt‘s ladies’ orchestra (Les Merveilleuses), all particulars of which can be had from the secretary, or from Chappell & Co., New Bond Street; but sometimes it is as well to encourage local talent if one can do so without fatal effects, when for 5l.you can have a good deal of music, always a cheerful matter, and can sometimes have very good music too. But a local band should always be put a good way off, distance, as a rule, lending an immense amount of enchantment to their productions.
I think also that some of the charming open-air scenes from Shakespeare can be given with great effect. I also am very fond of Mendelssohn’s open-air glees; and some recitations are often amusing. But should these latter be indulged in, let me beg that the hostess knows beforehand something about them, else will her fate be what mine was once, when an enthusiast began a long, long, long poem. I don’t know to this day what it was, whether it was meant to be pathetic or comic or not, but I do know my agonies were awful, and that I was rapidly going mad, when an opportuneshower put a stop to the eloquence, which had gone on unceasingly through the passing of several express trains, all of which made a hideous noise, and any one of which would have been sufficient to daunt any other individual. Short, amusing—really amusing—recitations are always a success, and I should taboo anything tragic or sentimental, or anything which lasted over ten minutes at the outside.
Never, however, be persuaded to give a garden-party trusting to tennis alone. There can be nothing more dreary than such an entertainment; it is like an at-home, where nothing but talk is provided. I would never heap on amusements out of doors or have music without stopping in doors, but I should always provide it in such a way that it serves as a pleasant reason for the gathering. An in-door at-home with music can never be a success if the seats are put in rows, and people are forced to sit stiffly close together; an outdoor one can never pass off well unless we prepare amusements, and see that our guests are really entertained and yet not overburdened with our attentions.
I think a whole chapter might be written on the art of being a hostess; and yet, perhaps, a few words may suffice. I believe a hostess, like a poet, is born, not made. Still, a few hints may not be out of place, for I think sometimes parties are unsuccessful because, though possessed of the best intentions, the hostess may lack the knowledge that alone can ensure a successful entertainment.
In the first place, without emulating two friends of mine, one of whom took the youngest unmarried girl in the room down to dinner, while the other, out of pure kindness, let his wife walk in first and then followed himself, and in consequence was hugely laughed at. I do think that in ordinary society a great deal of ridiculous fuss is made about precedence. What can it matter to the wife of some man knighted but the other day whether she or the wife of the parson goes into or out of the room first? If it does, she must be so stupid that I should not care to see her in my house; while to me it does matter immensely whether I have someone to take me in who knows what is going on in the world and reads his newspaper and sees every play that comes out. Give me a man like that, and I don’t in the least care what his father was, neither should I care one bit whether Jonesand Mrs. Smith, and Mr. Smith and Mrs. Brown, walked in or out of the room before me; they may all go, if they like, in a string. So long as I have a pleasant companion and a pretty table to look at, and a well-cooked dinner, I don’t care in the least how I reach the dining-room.
See that the people who are likely to get on have an opportunity of knowing each other; watch that no one is sitting glum and disconsolate in a corner; remember, if you can, who is anxious to be introduced to or shown any celebrities in the world of art and letters who may happen to be present; and, above all, consider everyone’s pleasure before you think of your own; and in a large gathering never sit down until you are actually driven to do so through fatigue, and you may be quite sure that the party will be a success. And send out your invitations, remembering that the pleasantest people are not always those who can afford to ask you again, and that your object in entertaining is above all to give pleasure, to see clever and entertaining, people in your house, and not to ensure a return as soon as may be for what you are doing. I do not care if people are the highest in the land if they are dull; I would far rather meet and know people who are clever and interesting than the most exalted member of the peerage I could number among my acquaintances if she were stupid and uninteresting, and had nothing to recommend her but her coronet and her connection with what Jeames de la Pluche calls the ‘hupper suckles.’
I think that I have now given some idea how to ensure success at the two kinds of parties which might be used as means of introducing a daughter to the world at large; but, of course, there are a great many other gatherings which may be indulged in, and, above all, let us learn always to be ready to give a welcome to any of the children’s friends. Should we discover that they are not nice we can easily speak about it, and tell our reasons for not receiving them; but well-brought-up young people will only make nice friends, and we must invariably be ready to give them a cheerful welcome. We can always be glad to see them after dinner, or to afternoon tea. This cannot ruin us, and when possible we should let them stay in the house and encourage them all we can. At the same time the rules of the house must be kept; the hours for meals and the general habits of theelders respected; and we must not be expected to help in the entertaining—that must be left entirely to the younger members of the household, whose friends they are.
Perhaps one of the greatest problems, after we have settled on our manner of entertainment, is to determine how the girls shall dress and in what manner they shall manage their dress allowance. This should be made to them and paid punctually from their eighteenth birthday, but it should never be made without starting a girl with a good and sufficient wardrobe, with a miniature trousseau in fact; if this is not done, unless, of course, the allowance is a very handsome one, the girl will get hopelessly into debt, and will never be free from that millstone all her life.
Dress is, unfortunately, so frightfully expensive nowadays that the problem of how to dress at all, always a serious one, has assumed gigantic proportions of late years. We went out immensely in our youth, and had 50l.a year allowed us, which we just scraped through on, although I remember how anxiously I watched the sleeves of one special grenadine dress, which I could not have afforded to replace anyhow, and which would wear out in the most agonising way, and which was one mass of darns before I could get another, and I have never forgotten the anxiety it gave me, to say nothing of under-garments, which really seemed to vanish perceptibly, bit by bit, after each visit to the laundress; but nowadays girls cannot go out very much and appear well dressed on double that sum. Even with 100l.a year there would have to be cutting and contriving, and a good sewing-maid would be an imperative necessity should there be really very many balls every year and afternoon and evening dresses to be seen after besides.
Of course, if not more than 50l.can be spared to each girl, the attendance at balls must be limited, and a great deal of sewing must be done by the damsel herself. But I never recommend anyone to go to a cheap or common dressmaker; if she does, her garments will never look nice, and she will spend three times as much as she need on renovations and alterations, while she will run every imaginable risk of having her stuff spoiled and the dress made so badly that she cannot wear it.
Supposing the girl is to begin with her allowance of 50l., her trousseau should consist of a dozen of each under-garmentsnecessary; she should have six pairs of silk, six of fine cashmere, and six of warmer cashmere hose; she should have four white skirts, a silk underskirt, and a quilted poplin skirt; she should have two morning dresses, one a good tailor-made one with a jacket to match, the other cashmere; she should have two best dresses, one for every evening, one for dances, and two for balls; and she should have a sealskin coat, a waterproof, and a jacket, and about three hats; she should have four pairs of boots and four pairs of shoes; and she should remember that the longer these are kept in stock before they are worn the better, and one pair of shoes should never be taken into regular wear without another being purchased to take its place. Cheap shoes and boots should never be bought under any pretext whatever; they wear out at once, are a hideous shape always, and are dangerously thin, things which should prevent their being in any girl’s wardrobe.
I am often struck, particularly in crowds or in large gatherings, at the perfectly frightful clothes most English women wear, and I have come to the conclusion that this fact is caused by the extraordinary fondness they seem to have for any kind of black mantle or jacket on which they can lay their hands, and by a habit they have of crowning their heads with any sort of hat or bonnet that may be in the fashion at the moment, no matter whether it suits them or not, or whether they have anything else in their possession with which it can be worn.
The tan jackets which have been so fashionable lately have in some measure emancipated the girls from the tyranny of the black cape; but I do wish all who dress at all would do so much more sensibly than they do now, and would never buy a single thing without carefully reviewing their wardrobe first, and then purchasing the addition equally carefully, not because it is ‘lovely’ or the ‘height of the fashion,’ but because it suits the wearer, and above all suits what she already possesses. She must never enter a shop without knowing first of all what she really does require, and she must never allow herself to be talked out of her own preconceived ideas; if she does she is sure to find herself saddled with some utterly unwearable garment, and which, moreover, matches nothing she already has in her possession. A girl should be carefully taught what islikely to suit her, and she should, moreover, be carefully instructed how to manage her wardrobe so that her things may be in some measureen suite. For example, should she possess a sealskin jacket, which she should if in any way possible—a capital little coat costs about 12l.to 15l., and wears ten winters comfortably, and can be used afterwards as linings—her winter morning dress might be some soft brown cashmere; she could vary this by having two or three soft silk handkerchiefs as waistcoats in the pretty prevailing fashion of the day, and could have a dark brown, a deep yellow, or a pale pink one. This dress would look well with the sealskin, or with a tan jacket should the weather be too warm for the former, and the hat should be brown or else dark blue with brown feathers in; this would allow of the second dress being powder or gendarme blue; this could be trimmed with bands of sealskin or soft brown silk, and here would be every-day garments to don in October and wear off and on until the first few warm days in May turn our thoughts to new and lighter clothes. A best hat should always be in stock; but this must harmonise with what she already has in the way of dresses. These must be good; the two will then, with the help of a judicious maid, come out again in the following autumn as very good every-day dresses and dresses for wet Sundays, and all that will be required is an afternoon party dress, which can also be worn on fine Sundays to church and for afternoon wear, should Sunday callers be allowed and encouraged in the manner I trust they are.
Summer dresses are where the strain comes on our resources, and where the clever maid comes in so well. One can buy a print costume unmade for about 18s.6d., but made up in London it costs about 3l.10s.to 4l.; I have never seen a decently made one under this price. The maid should suffice for these costumes, the simple banded Norfolk bodice being easily managed, as can some of the looser bodices; and great care should be taken to purchase about three yards more of the print than is absolutely needed. Print dresses in our wretched climate generally last two seasons, and, as they generally shrink in the wash, it is wise to provide ourselves with material for new sleeves or new fronts; it can be washed before being used to ensure that no appearance of patching is given by the new unfadedmaterial being placed against that which must have faded a little during the last wear. We have discovered in Stafford (rather ‘a far cry,’ as the Scots would say) a capital dressmaker who, for absolutely reasonable prices, makes charming print dresses for 45s.and excellent material dresses for girls for about 75s.I know these wear because we have tried them often and often, and, indeed, my daughter gets all her morning dresses there. I shall not publish her name, because I do not want her to be inundated with work or raise her prices, but if she can manage to do this—and naturally it must pay her to do so—why can’t London dressmakers do the same? I pause for a reply, and in the meantime meditate ruefully on the different prices I have to pay for my garments to those charged by the Stafford dressmaker.
I have always believed that ladies properly instructed in this art of dressmaking, and banded together, could make a comfortable living out of providing the garments of their fortunate sisters who had not to work. They would not make their fortunes, but they should do well if they do not pitchfork themselves into the place because every other work they have tried has failed, but take it because they have had an excellent training and are really tasteful and capable of advising about, as well as making, the clothes, which are such a burden and trouble to most of us. Of course they would be invaluable to the girls with a limited allowance; they would know what was worn, what would suit them and their purses at the same time; and they would keep a staff of humbler sewers who would renovate the garments it should be their pride and delight to make the very utmost of; while to those like myself, for example, who must have suitable and pretty dresses, and have not sufficient time to obtain this desirable end without immense expense, they would be simply invaluable, and we should be spared making the mistakes we are constantly making, the while we should be sure that our advancing years should receive due notice at their skilful hands, and that we should be suitably as well as becomingly dressed, and that at a not undue expense.
I should be very grateful to anyone who would start such an establishment; she could charge for her advice plus the dress, as I charge for my advice about furnitureand household management, and I am quite sure her establishment would soon be the centre of an admiring throng of girl disciples, to say nothing of the elder women, who would be thankful to be taken in hand, to be prevented from buying unbecoming garments, or things which have nothing in common with the rest of their possessions, and who could shop there in peace, knowing they would have kindly counsel, instead of being assured lyingly by the saleswoman that a perfectly unsuitable bonnet is the most becoming thing she has ever seen, and that an ugly black mantle is so handsome that, given this, it will act as charity and cover a multitude of sins in the shape of a shabby dress; the real truth being that the gorgeous mantle only accentuates the shabbiness, and, by adding another to the rank of the black mantle wearers, gives another evidence of the fact that, as a rule, Englishwomen in the street are the worst-dressed women in the world.
To really dress well costs an immense amount of money, for to ensure correct and pleasing dress it is absolutely necessary that all things shall match in some measure—mantle, dress, bonnet, and hose must been suite; but if we cannot afford to go in for this we should restrict ourselves to one or two colours at the outside, we should never buy anything which is at the height of fashion, and, above all, we should wear our clothes carefully, and we should not disdain to see they are put away in an absolutely spotless condition, with each atom of dust and dirt removed, every small necessary mending done, and with soft paper between the folds. Unless we have this religiously seen to the handsomest dress soon becomes draggle-tailed and shabby, while a cheap or inferior material wears three times as long as it otherwise would do if we see it is treated properly.
But cheap or flimsy materials should never, under any circumstances, be bought, unless the girls can make them up themselves, to wear at home evenings or during the summer, or unless the sewing-maid can do them; the making and trimming cost three times as much as the stuff, which hardly looks nice for three days, while good material pays for good making and wears until one is really tired of being in the same garment. When that feeling comes to us we should lay the dress aside for some months and then take it out again; the rest actually seems to have done thegarment good, and we wear it again with pleasure, instead of putting it on each morning with renewed dislike and distaste, as we did before we put it into the wardrobe for the short retirement we advise.
If matrons over forty-five cannot afford to spend very much on their garments, I do most strongly advise them to keep to black and very dark shades of greens and reds; these, however, should be left absolutely alone should there be any tendency toembonpoint, then black must bede rigueur. This seems a little hard, and of course black is to a certain extent uninteresting wear; but we can console ourselves for the fate to which all must come by knowing that we are suitably attired, and that, at all events, we are not making ourselves ridiculous by vying with our daughters about our clothes.
Women are the age they look. I know some of the above-named age who do not look a day more than thirty-five, and they therefore should dress as they please. But the moment age begins to show let us calmly acknowledge that our pretty days are over, and garb ourselves accordingly. We need not be dowdy in these days. Black and dark raiment generally can be made as nice as possible and quite festive-looking; but we should be suitably dressed, and, after all, we don’t want either admiration or attention then from the outside world; we are sure of both at home if we rule rightly and are queen of the only kingdom that is worth having—the beautiful kingdom of Home.
What does anything else matter, if we are still looked upon by our husbands with as much pleasure and admiration as they gave us in those never-to-be-forgotten days of courtship, and if our children consider us nicer, kinder, and wiser than anyone else? To obtain such applause is worth the whole struggle of living to preserve it—any amount of trouble which we can possibly take. Therefore, let all costume themselves suitably—the girl in the prettiest frocks she can possibly afford; the matron quietly, becomingly, and richly; and, above all, let all consider carefully the matching that I so strongly advocate, and let the girl who begins her allowance always keep most correct accounts, showing these and her paid bills when the next quarter is paid, and let her never be too proud to ask her mother’s assistance, especially if she cannot see her way to makeboth ends meet; but never pass over a debt, and let her see you notice all she spends. It may seem a little inquisitorial, it will really save her endless care and worry if you prevent her in any way you can from getting into a habit of forestalling her income—a habit that, once formed, is one that hardly anyone ever shakes off in after life, try how one will.
The ball-dresses are the garments which try a girl more than anything, the tulle skirts and pretty flounces, which cost so much, getting so soon spoiled and messed; and I think the stock of the first season’s dresses must be helped considerably by the parents, else will the poor girl feel herself worse dressed than anyone else; and that is a small misery that should never be allowed if in any measure it can be avoided. The years from eighteen to twenty-one are undoubtedly the most joyous of any a woman ever has. They are not always the happiest, taking our standard of happiness very high, but they are the brightest, sunniest, and most amusing that the average girl will ever have, more especially if she have been carefully brought up in a good atmosphere and be not tormented with those uncomfortable religious doubts and miserable hankerings after a career and after reforming the world we some of us had such a severe attack of at that age. I personally would not be eighteen again for all the wealth of the Indies. Then, I thought it extremely grand to believe in nothing, to have a gloomy satisfaction in my superior mind, which soared above the old beliefs, and formed a misty religion of my own, which meant nothing and led nowhere, and to indulge in dreadful sarcasms—mentally only (I am thankful to say I did not often utter them)—on the worldly wisdom of those folks who naturally wished their daughters to marry well and turned cold shoulders on the poorest and generally most undeserving of suitors, and I used to stay up until the small hours of the morning (although I was dreadfully sleepy) inditing the most awful verses against the rich and titled folks, whom I naturally thought were fattening on the poor and miserable, and to whom I intended to go on a species of socialistic crusade; and finally in writing a big novel, which used to make me feel very much more intellectual than most of the people I mixed with, and which, after an evening spent among the brightest and first intellects in the world, I used to contemplatesavagely, having been made to feel very small, though I would have died rather than confess such a thing—a feeling I did not mean ever to experience again, once thatmagnum opuswas given to the world and people really knew me for the genius I was. Alas! that recognition has never come yet; still, I am very happy without it, and am always doubly thankful my days of craving for worldwide fame have vanished, and that I neither want that nor to believe in anything any more.
I hope, however, there are not many girls as silly as I was then, and as I dare say I should have continued to be had I not married—I, who scorned the idea of the ordinary British matron, and regarded children and household cares with bitter disgust. And during the twenty years I have been a wife, I am always struck with wonder when I remember the imaginative, impulsive thing that was myself so long ago, and try to trace in my present self the miserable, ambitious cynic I fondly hoped was some day going to set the world on fire and blossom out as a new Thackeray or Dickens. Nothing feminine was good enough for me; I meant to beat the men or do nothing at all.
Such a girlhood as that may be of infinite service, and was, but it cannot be called a happy one; still, I think I was the exception, not the rule, therefore I ask that all who can possibly manage it will see their girls are happy as long as they are young; to give them their allowance because they should learn how to spend money, but to add a dress here and there, an ornament, a new trimming judiciously if in any way you can afford it, and go without yourself rather than allow a girl to be shabby or worry herself to death over a wearing-out garment; at the same time let her learn to do her own repairs and have lessons in dressmaking; make her happy, but at the same time let her help herself to the desired end. I hope there may never be too many daughters in the family for this allowance of 50l.to be an impossibility; no girl can dress really on less. If there are, shemustbe taught early to make her own garments, and she must learn, furthermore, that she must spend far more time and thought over her clothes than is good for her, should the allowance be much less, and should she be obliged to go out into society a good deal. As I stated at first, I am not now writing for the young beginners,but for those whose children are growing up, and who have made and are making a good income; I therefore trust that what I have said about dress will be taken only by those for whom it is intended, the Angelina of ‘From Kitchen to Garret,’ poor dear, having often enough to do without much that she would have thought indispensable in the old days.
Thereis a great deal to consider, apart from the mere arrangement of the ceremonies, about the events of which I mean to speak in this chapter, therefore no book devoted to the interests of the home could be complete without at least some words on both subjects.
To begin with: the old story of the bad fairy told us in our childhood, who invariably was forgotten, and as invariably turned up without an invitation at the christening of the prince or princess, is not as improbable as it appeared to be on the first reading. The bad fairy may be an infuriated relative to whom we have forgotten to write; it may be family pride outraged by the name chosen for the infant; or it may take the form of having asked the wrong instead of the right individual to stand for the child; but all too often it is there, and the heedless conduct that raised the evil fairy from her sleep may bring about consequences that are as unpleasant as they are certainly unexpected and generally undeserved, for I have often observed that the deepest insults are those we are most unconscious of giving, and that the evil habit of ‘taking offence’ is often increased by conduct that was as innocent in design as it was certainly disastrous in the effect.
And now let us pause for a moment and speak on the subject of taking offence, a matter that has given rise to endless family divisions and caused more broken friendships and quarrels than anything else in the world. To begin with: it is a sign of a common, jealous, vain nature to take offence; it shows that the offended person is so enduedwith a sense of her own importance that she is always on the look-out for an affront, that she has such a low idea of human nature that she is suspicious of everything that happens, and is always expecting some slur is being cast on her, some dreadful plot against her dignity is being hatched; and she is so vain that she thinks everything that happens is especially levied at her, though generally she was as far from the thoughts of the offending person as she well could be.
A family possessing such a touchy member is indeed much to be pitied; one can see nothing or very little of any acquaintance possessed of such a disposition, and indeed no one would wish to see such a one more than one can help; but a member of the family must be considered in some way; therefore such an individual is all too often the bad fairy, who, having once received or fancied she received an insult, never forgets it, harps on it always, and ends by doing immeasurable harm in more ways than one by her disagreeable and untutored tongue. And notice I saysheand her. I don’t consider we can learn much from men, but we can certainly learn larger-mindedness from them; for very seldom do we find a man taking offence in the childish and touchy fashion far too many women are so fond of doing.
As a rule we are all too busy to soften the aspirations of such an individual, and so we drift apart without any distinct quarrel, gradually seeing less and less of each other, until we do not meet at all; but it is generally well, if we possibly can, to go straight to anyone like this and find out the cause of offence, at the same time refraining from doing so unless we care very much about it, because, ten chances to one, the person who takes offence once will always be doing so, and it is not worth one’s while, as a rule, to conciliate those who will find a subject for offence in everything one says and does, unless one is always flattering them, an easily offended person having the most ravenous appetite for flattery possible to conceive. Therefore, when a christening has to be thought about, we should first consider if there be any Scylla to avoid, any Charybdis past which we must navigate the boat, and, above all, must we endeavour to be quite independent about the most important subject of all—viz. how to name the child.
I do not go quite as far as does a friend of mine, whoconsiders the names he gives his children act on their nature, and that they insensibly form their characters to in some measure sympathise with their baptismal names. Thus, for example, it would be as impossible for John to be naughty as for Jack to be anything save a pickle, for Edith to be anything save calm and religious, while Trixy must be a flirt and set all her lovers by the ears. But still I do think a great deal depends upon the name, especially if the surname happens to be rather uncommon or pretty, and that the judicious selection of well-sounding names does wonders. But here we must steer between plain John Brown, who could never be anyone, try as hard as he might, and the Reginald de Montmorency Brown, which is the laughing-stock of the neighbours, and which is a grief to the unfortunate holder thereof through life, unless the possession of such a name forces him to become as ridiculous as it is itself; then, of course, he is quite happy, and we need not pity him at all.
Another thing I do most earnestly deprecate is the perpetuating of family names, unless the name happens to be a pretty one and is chosen for itself. In the first place, family names are generally hideous, and in the second we cannot name the child after all the members of both families; to give precedence to the father’s family names will offend the mother’s family, and generally the unfortunate infant is not only saddled with a hideous name, but finds itself a bone of contention almost before it has any bones at all; while, if we boldly select the names which seem to us euphonious and to harmonise with the surname, we shall offend no one, and shall show we have an individuality that must be respected by the members of both families alike.
Then, too, if families are large and have endless branches, great confusion is caused by each separate Paterfamilias having one of these names among his flock. Cousins very often stay in the same house, and come to visit each other, and if there are ten Miss Elizabeth Smiths and these happen to be staying together, how are their letters to be distinguished? The possession of similar initials in families has made mischief enough; the possession of similar names can make twice as much again.
In naming a boy we must think whether he can be made miserable at school by having either a grand or girlishname, which the young fiends, his schoolfellows, can turn into something to his disadvantage, and, if possible, the younger sons should always have some good surname before the family name; this will enable them to keep distinct. For example, if the eldest son is called Charles Robinson (not that I should call any boy such a frightful name), his next brother can be called John Smith Robinson (supposing his mother’s name to have been Smith), while the third could be William Brown Robinson, thus marking the distinct families at once, and allowing the sons of the holders of these names to have the double name, and perhaps the aristocratic hyphen, satirised by Corney Grain, which is so dear to the heart of the ordinary suburban resident, while it is not a bad plan to give the girls their surname as well as a pretty Christian-name at baptism. This would allow people to trace pedigrees easily were it a universal custom, and would be of great assistance in writing the family history we ought one and all of us to possess, for it is astonishing how much we are helped in our attempt to bring up our children if we have any knowledge of our forbears, and can trace in any way the habits and occupations of those from whom we have sprung.
Having settled on the child’s name and registered it before we tell our relations and friends, the impossibility of making a change saving endless painful and unprofitable discussions, the next thing is to decide on the god-parents. As a rule this is a mere form, but of course it should not be so. A god-parent necessarily sends a more or less handsome present at the time of the christening, comes to the ceremony if he or she can, and then forgets all about the child. But this, I repeat, should never be. The god-parents should keep up a friendly intercourse with their god-children; they should know where they are, what they are doing; they should most undoubtedly be present at the confirmation ceremony, and they should always at Christmas either write to their god-children, send one of those useful and pretty cards, which I trust will never go out of fashion, or else give some little gift that does not cost much, while it makes the link between them very real, and gives some meaning to a position that at present would often be more honoured in the breach than in the observance.
Of course it is easy enough to manage this in one’s ownrank of life, and we ought to have as many god-children as we can honestly interest ourselves in; but we should never undertake the office unless we mean to perform the duties; and we ought occasionally to ‘stand for’ some of our poorer neighbours’ children. As a rule they are delighted to have us, and it gives us a hold over them we could not otherwise acquire; while a boy or a girl has always a sense of obligation to behave better and do better in life if he or she has a god-parent in a higher station than his or her own, to whom they can come for advice and help by right, and from whom they receive at Christmas, at confirmation, or at any important step in life, some trifling token. Therefore I do not think god-parents can think too much of their duties, or neglect to stand for all they can manage to look after; it is something to do—something that can also do endless good, if we undertake the duties properly.
When the god-parents are chosen the christening-day should be fixed, and this should be the very first day that the mother and child can go out of doors. The clergyman who performs all the family services should be asked of course, and the time selected should be about the middle of the day, and, if possible, the font should be nicely decorated with white flowers. Of course the correct thing would be to have a public service with the congregation; the church always looks dismal and horrid when empty, and, according to the rubric, the service should be public; but I should never advise this. In the first place, the mother is never quite strong enough to stand the long service; and, in the second, babies do howl so that the congregation is made miserable, and, therefore, what is really an excellent theory is a practice to be avoided. Unless the christening is postponed, a thing I cannot contemplate for one moment, a child’s first outing should be to church; there is no doubt whatever in my own mind about that.
Take this for granted, and half the misery of a christening disappears; never allow it to be postponed, and it is done as a matter of course. If the god-parents selected cannot be present, they must be represented by proxy; and they should never be waited for, any more than they should be chosen for any reason save that we are fond of them, that they are related to us, or such friends that weknow they would do the best they could for us were we to die and leave the children to the mercy of the world at large—as regards their mental welfare, I don’t mean their bodily. I repeat here, that no one has the smallest right to bring a child into the world for whose existence he cannot in some measure duly provide.
Without emulating the Roman Catholic habit of confession, I much like to feel that each family possesses some clergyman among its friends, who stands to it in some measure in the position that a Romish priest does to many households. The finer ceremonies of life and death should be conducted by one man; and it is always a great pleasure to me to feel that he who married us christened all our children, while it is as great a regret that he cannot any more perform any more ceremonies for us, for he has gone where ceremonies are of no avail, and where he has, no doubt, already received his reward. However, though none can take his place, we have still a ‘family priest;’ and I think all the simple ceremonies of our Church are made a thousand times holier by the fact that one man performs them, and that he takes that individual interest in us no strange clergyman ever can. Let anyone see a christening in a town church, hastily performed by a man to whom the infant is nothing but an unpleasant lump of lace and fussy clothes, or at best one more little soldier for the great army, and the same ceremony performed by a man who knows and loves the parents, and I shall need no more words if this does not express all I mean. Let my readers note the conduct of any cemetery chaplain reading the burial service, with which custom has made him hideously familiar, and then hear someone who has known and loved the dead read it; I am sure, after that, I need not plead for the election in each family of some good man as family priest. He is a comfort, indeed, with whom no one can afford to dispense, even in this hurrying, fashionable life of ours.
When the church and all is settled, the baby’s dress is undoubtedly a matter for great consideration. In some families grandmamma produces the robe the child’s father was christened in, and of course that, and nothing else, should be worn. Of course, equally, high neck and sleeves should be added, and a little flannel bodice can beplaced with advantage under the fine open-neck bodice of the robe; white ribbons should tie up the sleeves and be placed under the waist, and the cloak should not be either heavy or unduly gorgeous. The hood and cloak must be removed in the church, and the nurse should do this quickly and silently the moment the ceremony begins, placing a big, soft shawl round the child; this allows it to become quiet, and does not ensure the roar which invariably follows if the child is handed to the clergyman the moment its clothes are taken off. It should be rolled in the shawl until the christening service is over, then it can be dressed and shriek if it likes; no one but the nurse will be disturbed by its howling then.
Baptism is a sacrament, and therefore there are no fees to be given to the clergyman, but the father goes into the vestry to give particulars about the name, &c., for registration in the church books, and he should then make the clerk some small present—5s.would be ample for most middle-class families, while 1l.would be princely. If the clergyman has come some distance one should take care he was no loser by it, delicately and nicely, and if one is rich some present should be given to the church itself to mark the ceremony; there is always something a church lacks that we can give without ruining ourselves; in fact, all these simple ceremonies should teach us to love the Church with the singular attachment even Dissenters have for it, and should make us more to each other as a congregation than we otherwise would be had we no religion to bind us together. The christening over, the baby should be taken, according to a dear old Yorkshire superstition, to be shown to some friend who will give it bread, salt, sixpence, and a new-laid egg; and if this superstition be respected, and, moreover, if the infant be taken up in the world before it is taken down (i.e.carried upstairs before it goes down), my old nurse used to declare that it must be lucky and could defy any amount of bad fortune. She invariably climbed by a stool up to a high settee with our children because our house had not a third story, and much she used to amuse us with these small vagaries; they were a matter of real moment to her, and we indulged her. Why not? If they did no good they most certainly could do no earthly harm.
Now, before we pass on from the christening ceremony to speak of weddings—a much more enthralling subject—I want to say one word on the matter of family gatherings. I know quite well I am venturing almost on forbidden ground, and that such an idea as a family party is beneath contempt in these days, when we want nothing but amusement, and dislike running the chance of being bored more than anything else. Still, I am going to speak about them, and I trust that I may show that they are not only unobjectionable if properly managed, but that they are absolutely necessary if we are to keep up anything like a good feeling amongst the members of one family.
The reasons why, as a rule, families separate and fall apart are, first of all, because some go up while others remain stationary, and others creep slowly down the hill; and, secondly, because there are none of the small civilities and amenities of life practised among relations that render society possible and pleasing. If a sister thinks another sister’s conduct is not just what it ought to be she tells her so, without considering that she has no more business to take her to task than she has to call on and scold her next-door neighbour; they frankly discuss the manner in which the respective children are brought up, and, indeed, often make themselves so interfering and disagreeable that the family party ends in tears and in mutual vows against any attempt at the same thing again.
Now, as regards the first offence, it is one we ought to be able to bear with equanimity, especially if we are remaining stationary while others are flourishing on a plain above our heads. In the first place, the honour and success of the one member is the property of all, and we can glory in it too, while, if we are at the top of the tree, no one will envy us that position if they share it in some measure, and if we take care that they are not hurt by our assuming airs that are as ridiculous as they are unkind. A man who forgets and ignores his poor relations is a snob, and is invariably laughed at by those who know of their existence; while if he never forgets them, and is good to them always, he reaps a reward no one can deprive him of in the tender affection, pride in his attainments, and unselfish delight in his success, which would be turned to gall and wormwood were he to turn his back on andignore those whose flesh and blood he shares, and who must always be his relations, try how he may to shift them off his shoulders entirely.
Give this feeling, and I maintain that we can have family parties which are quite successful, more especially if we remember the second pitfall and refrain from these hideously spiteful remarks some families seem to regard in the light of indispensable tonics; and we should always try that our simple ceremonies of christenings, birthdays, Christmas, and weddings should include all those of our immediate kin who are near enough to share them. Let all be asked, let them see you are glad to see them, and give them your best (not your second best, please), and I am quite sure the family party will be as successful as any other you may be induced to give. Of course the party need not be all family; a judicious admixture of outsiders is always to be recommended, more especially if we are at the top of the tree and can take this opportunity of introducing some of our ‘best’ people to those who are pleased to meet them, although their present means may not allow of their entertaining them in their own houses in the same manner that we can.
These differences cannot be helped, and indeed they should be a source of pleasure to all, as I said before, and undoubtedly would be were family feeling cultivated among us in a manner that it certainly is not in most English homes. Therefore all these ceremonies should be made an occasion for family parties, and at Christmas time, too, all should meet who can, at the house of the eldest of the family, should the father and mother be unable to have their gathering or be dead, as is so often the case; and there should be regular preparations for enjoyment, a ‘surprise’ (my annual surprise considerably shortens my life), a Christmas tree, games, and a good supper, all mapped out just as if we expected the greatest strangers and wished to impress them with our forms of hospitality. Take rather more pains about the arrangements and details of a family party than any other; I am quite sure that if you do you will be amply rewarded.
And now to think about weddings and marriages, generally a most enthralling subject to fathers and mothers when the children have grown up and they begin to contemplatethe idea of their leaving the fireside for homes of their own, when begins, I think, the most difficult period of our life, and when we cannot be too careful whom we admit to our houses, the while we must not be unduly fussy, else we spoil our children’s chance of happiness, and make them miserably anxious for themselves and their possible fate—a fate I would postpone for ever if I had my way, for who can calmly contemplate passing on one’s daughter to another’s care, I wonder? while one’s possible daughters-in-law can never be anything, I fear, save successful rivals to the throne one occupies in one‘s boys’ hearts.
But these things will happen, and equally of course all girls should marry, a happy marriage being the best fate for any woman, no matter how cultivated, how talented she may be. I have no doubts whatever on that subject. Suppose she writes; who so fit to battle with the publisher as the husband? or she paints; well, he can smile on the critics and undermine them with a good cigar and all the rest of it. Or does she sing? Surely, surely the husband’s protection comes in there more than ever; while for those lucky women who only want to fulfil their destiny and make a home, the husband of course takes his right position at once, and is guardian, bread-winner, and head in a way that Nature intended him to be, and that all real women want him to be. The few who clamour for another arrangement don’t understand the subject at all, and are as ridiculous as they are abnormal and few in number, and therefore need not be considered in the least. There is, therefore, no doubt that women should marry if they can; and if not, well, there is plenty for them to do, although they will never be as happy—I am sure of that—as the happily married woman; neither will they ever suffer as an unhappily married woman must, albeit very many unhappy marriages would have been far otherwise had people had common sense at first and married each other as what they were, and not what they supposed each other to be; resenting their own mistakes on the unfortunate object they had deified, and not on their own stupid selves, while of course they should be resolved to make the best of what was inevitable, and to really make the wife or husband become all they had imagined him or her to be.
When the discussion on the subject of ‘marriage being afailure’ was going forward I was only deterred from joining in the fray by the knowledge that my indignant feelings on this subject were so strong they rendered me incoherent; but I was glad I did not, for no one could have driven sense into the heads of a good many of the silly women who wrote rubbish about their woes. Of course there are unhappy marriages, plenty of them, made worse, to my mind, a thousand times by our present disgracefully easy divorce laws; but, trace them to the beginning, and I venture to state that one and all of these marriages would have been happy had the parties to them been properly brought up, and, above all, properly told what marriage really means, not only to themselves, but to those who may very probably come after them. Not one girl who marries but knows that the man by whose side she stands at the altar is not only her lover, but the possible father of her children; and yet what mother would not consider herself simply dreadful were she to say this to her daughter when the proposal is made, and her fate is yet in abeyance? and yet what more important matter could be spoken of? I think none. A girl who marries a man—an old man—for his money, even from the very highest possible motives—from the idea, may be, that she is not only ensuring the safety of her own future but that of many who may be near and dear to her—is committing not only a crime against herself and her own future, but is ensuring that the faults, sins, and selfishnesses of the man she marries are passed on to endless generations; and where such a marriage is contemplated I maintain that a mother has an imperative duty before her, and that she must tell her daughter straight out, that the sufferings she must endure in her own person in daily contact with her future husband will not be a tithe of what will come upon her when she begins to recognise his sins and his evil ways reappearing in those children who may come to her, and who will bring their own retribution with them; be sure of that.
It is a priceless boon to know that one inherits a right and a duty to be good in the broadest sense of the word. I personally do not care one fig what a man’s trade or worldly position is so long as he is absolutely honest and trustworthy, and would not act or speak an untruth; and this is the sort of inheritance we should strive to hand onto our children. The higher the station the more should be the endeavour to live in such a way that our example may be valued; but, whatever the station, let us remember that there is always some one influenced by us, and that we have obligations to them which we must consider if we want to live a really good life.
And one of the first things to think of is this question of marriage, not only because of ourselves, but because of the children who may come to us, and who must be thought of before we give our girls to men who may make them ‘fairish’ husbands; perhaps may not ill-treat them or beat them, but who are not possessed of sufficient individuality to be the heads of their own houses, and who have not honest souls and some ambitions above the mere ruck of living and making as much money as they possibly can, not only because such men can never be the makers and possessors of a home, but because they may leave children whose weaknesses and wickednesses may not only break their mother’s heart, but may make the world worse than they find it, one’s truest ambition being to make the world, or one’s own special corner thereof, better than one found it in some way or other.
Young people naturally resent advice, and rarely, if ever, act upon it, and we have all taken this to heart so much that some of us have ceased to give advice at all. But this should not be so; the advice may not be taken—that we cannot help—but it is our duty to give it, and I hope all mothers will do so, whether their children act upon it or not. We should not shirk a duty because we cannot see any effects; they may appear even when we have long ceased to look for them.
The sins of the fathers must be visited on the children; there is no doubt about that. We need not argue about it; it is a fact that we all have to acknowledge, and therefore there is no need to go into the rights and wrongs of the matter, for no amount of argument will do away with this inevitable truth; and equally, therefore, a woman should choose not only a man she loves, but a man she respects, and one it shall be her very greatest pride to know her children will resemble. She will be spared endless suffering if she do, for there is no suffering on earth like that caused by wicked children, or even by the anxieties aboutweakly and suffering children; and she had better remain an old maid all her life than bring upon herself the unspeakable wretchedness of having children who are a constant source of anxiety to her because of what they may, nay, of what theymustinherit.
Given a clean record, a stainless youth, a good constitution, and an honest worker, and we need ask no more for our girls. It will not hurt them to begin their new life on a much lower scale than that which they have been accustomed to, more especially if we have taught them their duty to themselves and their future. Then, if we know that the young couple honestly love each other, we can feel content.
And by love I do not mean blind, unreasoning passion, the mad, extraordinary feeling that one reads about in novels, and which generally lands one or the other in the Divorce Court, and of which I have nothing to say, but I do mean that wonderful self-devotion to another, the mutual respect and regard, and the absolute unselfishness, that make up the true love that never fades, and that increases year by year in those whose married life was based on such love as this, and whose home reflects around the happiness which is centred there, and which can only be procured by those who begin their life together on a proper basis, and who do not expect to find in each other the god or goddess of perfection, who would probably be as unpleasant to live with as he or she is undoubtedly non-existent in this world of ours.