THE RELIGION OF OLD WOMEN.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 4939, 20 January 1877, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE RELIGION OF OLD WOMEN.

(From the World.) All old women are religious in a measure. What in a young man is esteemed amiable indifference, or pardoned as a venial assumption of cynical incredulity, becomes in an old woman repulsive immorality or an utter want of heart. A young man has the whole of life before him ; he can well afford to wait a few years before embarking finally on his religious convictions ; variableness and indecision are the attributes of youth, and master-minds and geniuses have seen no shame in changing their theology as they did their politics during the chequered years of a long existence. But old women have reached the broad table-land ; before them lies the rapid slope, behind them rises a steep incline ; if ever fixity is to hold its own, it must be now. The world, with its wonderfully right instinct in such matters, exhorts old women to be religious lest they should be despicable ; and the verdict is too serious to be resisted. Sterne’s famous saying about French women is still applicable to the old women of civilised society: “There arc three epochas in the empire of a French woman ; she is coquette, then deist, then e'evote. The empire during these is never lost ; she only changes her subjects. When thirty-five years and more have unpeopled her dominions of the slaves of love, she repeoples them with the slaves of infidelity, and then with the slaves of the Church.” The hopes of a better world are fit topics for those who are rapidly leaving a world of sorrow and sin behind them. Women know this, and there are few who venture to sneer at Christian ethics or insinuate a doubt as to tho reality of revealed religion. But the religion of old women very much resembles other pro testations, whether of love or statesmanship—it does not always perform what it professes. The Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol, who is somewhat alarmed at the spread of infidelity, when recently delivering his eloquent charge, took no heed of women, thinking, perhaps, that as they possessed no vote they were scarcely entitled to opinions. We should have been glad of the learned prelate’s views on the matter, for scarcely anything is more prolific of discussion or more harrowing for the peace-ful-minded of the household than religious divergence between the respective heads of families. The really old women—those who recognise the weakness of their body with the decay of their faculties—as a rule jog quietly on in the prescribed routine laid down for them ia their childhood. Pantheism, Paratheism, or pure Theism are to them mere terms ; they have been accustomed to worship God iu a decent and orthodox fashion that made no severe demands upon their time or their thoughts, and in such simple practices they close their lives. These are the ladies of the old school, quiet orderly bodies, who still hold that the husband is the head of the wife, and firmly believe that conjugal obedience is one of the cardinal virtues of feminine perfection. Excellent steady-going persons, their piety is as unassuming as their dress ; they prefer square pews to straw chairs, and a preacher draped iu a black garment to one clad in a surplice. They hold up their hands in horror at the ways of iniquity of a new generation and the religious unbelief that mere girls think it clever to assume. Such old women have played their parts on life’s stage ; every day sees fresh gaps in their ranks, every year a leaf drops from the book-roll of their quiet names. Bike a fortunate nation they present no salient points, and have no thrilling records to offer. Their memory lives green in the hearts of their grandchildren, the only monument of fame they could ever have valued. ■ But the distinguishing modern feature of old women’s religion is the facility with which they contrive to blend agreeably worldliness and Christianity. Those brilliant women who shone contemporaries of Voltaire and Diderot professed scant religious dogmas, and died as they had lived tho votaries of pleasure, wit, and grace. To expire in an armchair with a neatly-turned pleasantry or a bon mot, upon their lips, if not Christian, was at least heroic; even death lost half its terrors when confronted with such a calm and intrepid countenance. But the women of to-day have neither the joyousness nor the philosophy which makes such conduct possible. They seek to gain heaven without losing tho world, and to reconcile tho claims of sanctity with tho pursuit of luxury and pleasure. Wll3', otherwise, should delicate ladies bo often seen hurrying to matins, their eyes still red _ and heavy from tho previous night’s dissipation ; pacing the wards of a hospital, Bible in hand, before midday, in order to be iu time for the afternoon gathering at a polo or pigeon-match; and measuring their gains at the whist-table or on tho racecourse by their assiduous attendance at public worship and early communion ? Ritualism, whoso only use or meaning is to supply a want of the female breast, especially answei-s to the requirements of aged ladies. Calvinism seems cold aud barren, and demands such obnoxious sacrifices—as resignation of society, eschewing of balls and theatres with tho adoption of sad and sober garments. Ritualism, on the contrary, points to. Paradise with uplifted

finger, while tacitly sanctioning enjoyment here on earth. The petty difficulties and bits of selfdenial incumbent on fair penitents serve but to enhance permissive joys. When the old woman who has married her daughters frisks about on her own account, she reconciles to her conscience the love of vanity and excitement with the fact of her devotion to the services of the Rev. Mr. Crozier, and her attendance at' the. “ retreat” he so earnestly advocated. Easts and offertories mav well wipeout folly and self-indulgence, while the combination of holiness with holiday -making can scarcely be deemed idleness. Especially does this sort of sensual passion-stirring religion match with the souls of those whom the author of the “Sentimental Journey” calls, in oldfashioned parlance, coquettes—old women who flatter themselves Heaven has forgotten them, as did the old Frenchman, who, when asked his age, exclaimed, “ Chut ? Le del pourrait nous entendre /” women who despise the testimony of years and wrinkles, succeed in persuading themselves and their friends that they are blessed with eternal youth ; women whose burning hearts must still consume in a flame of some sort, no matter whether heaven-born or earthly. The glow of enthusiastic pleasure that warms their bosoms as they kneel in the dim religious light, the sweet satisfaction that wraps them as they listen to the soft devotional strains of music, the consciousness of a sensation which is saving their soul as it hushes their - body, is indeed the nearest approach to "such terrestrial enjoyment as they can no longer taste. The dAiotc is as happy as the coquette, and far more peaceful. She can afford, from the height of her lofty holiness, to smile at the follies of those who are still struggling and suffering around her. The approbation of the clergy is a fit echo to the praises of lovers, who were fur more troublesome and not nearly so comforting, while the desire of dominion is s itisfied at finding, unlike Alexander, that there is still another world to conquer. Old women are far more fortunate than old men when they throw themselves into the arms of the Church ; they are petted and cajoled as in the brightest days of amorous felicity. The rich old woman who is religious commands a very extensive empire : supplicants for her charity are numerous ; the unloosing of her pursestrings can afford happiness or despair ; her well-wishers and advisers onnvd around her ; and her approbation, her consent, her subscription, and her patronage are eagerly and humbly sought for. While she lives she is courted ; when she dies she is regretted. No wonder she seeks a religion which can confer such exquisite happiness. . ' All these different modes' of religious devotion ai-e, however, more sensations than convictions or soul - renovators. They leave the heart untouched, while they flatter the vanity, for old women are decidedly averse to tread a very thorny path. True religions enlightenment, the sweetening of the inner self, is scarcely ever acquired in old age. It comes usually with an overwhelming rush upon the soul in the period of perturbed youth, when all the energies are fresh, and everything that is believed is grasped with the intense desire of passionate juvenesoeuce. Old age is too weak and too limp to care violently ; religion, like everything else, must be toned and softened down to its capacity. Scepticism, winch demands keenness and energy of thought, is unsuitable, though quiet acquiescence in ritual and formula serves to soothe and strengthen. Old age, however, is frequently as stern as youth is hard, and elderly women are apt to mete out justice without mercy. The religion which of all others inculcales love when interpreted by its followers means tenderness only to those of the chosen flock, and scant pity or help to those who, presuming to differ, are rash enough to suffer also. Old women, especially those who have once swelled the ranks of coquettes, lift up their skirts at sight of fallen sisters, rail bitterly at honest but free-spoken workers of good, prefer to see ten Dissenters from their faith starved than one Ritualist be disappointed, and embitter ths deathbed of a friend sooner than allow her to end her days in the belief she finds most salutary. We are all weak and misguided mortals, yet nothing con-veys-a fitter expression of our infirmity than the religion of old women—salt without savor, propriety without tenderness, doggeduess without humility, selfishness unenlightened by a single ray of divine charity. Lamentable as is the disbelief of young men, it is a fresh and vigorous plant, containing of better things, compared with the barren lifeless creed of old women.