CHAPTER XIV
“Into our hands hath it been given to settle the course of the world.”—Shah Nameh,Firdausi.
We were a committee—the Doctor, Janet, the Altruist, and I—to consider what could be done for the women and girls in Brand Street. The Altruist wished us to undertake some work in connection with Barnet House.
We sat round the table in the parlour of my boarding-house. The cloth had been removed. A block of paper and a pencil lay in front of each of us, ready for taking notes.
“I like the way we have,” said Janet, who looked the incarnation of the spirit of mischief, “of trying to teach other people how to live because we do not know how ourselves.”
“You and I have not erred very deeplyin that way, Janet,” said the Doctor, drily. “You must not accuse yourself where you do not deserve it.”
The Altruist looked impatient. “We want to consider,” he said, “how we can help our friends in Brand Street. We must begin at once. I have an appointment at four.”
“Another lecture?” asked Janet.
“Yes,” answered the Altruist, wearily. “I get invitations almost every day to lecture on life in the slums.”
“Paul,” said Janet, solemnly, though her eyes were dancing, “you will be talking in the park next on Sunday afternoons, and we will all come and stand with the crowd to listen to you.”
“Perhaps I shall,” said the Altruist. “If it is necessary to convince the working-man of my sympathy, I shall be glad to do it. I should like to see my up-town friends standing side by side with my neighbours from the slums. Only,” he added thoughtfully, “I doubt if my voice could carry. I have said definitely that I will not speak to morethan three thousand people. And in the open air—”
Then we opened the discussion. Janet suggested that we begin with private theatricals for the poor.
“They need to have their minds taken off their troubles,” she said. “We cannot really better their condition. Perhaps we can divert their attention.”
The Altruist withheld his opinion of this idea. He did not wish to discourage Janet. It was partly in order to give her a practical interest that he had started the work. But an expression came into his face that made Janet whisper,—
“It really is not polite, Paul, to look bored when other people are talking.”
“We want to accomplish something that will be of permanent service,” he began. “Mere temporary distraction will not do. I thought that you three women would know how to bring them something of the graciousness and sweetness of your own lives.”
“How can we effect anything whatever,”asked the Doctor, “while those women live under the conditions in which they must live? They cannot even keep clean. It is absolutely impossible. Cleanliness is the most expensive luxury in the world. What beauty and graciousness can be brought into their lives so long as they cannot take baths?”
“We cannot correct at once,” the Altruist answered, “all the evil consequences of our present system. But we can bring these people into touch with higher spiritual ideals—”
“We can form clubs,” I hastened to say, wishing to appease the Doctor by means of a practical suggestion. “We can teach the women to sew, or we can have a literary club and teach them how to read.”
The Altruist’s face brightened.
“Yes,” he said, “these cruder methods open the way. When our neighbours understand that we want to meet them on the common ground of human brotherhood, that we ignore all class distinctions—”
“Don’t you think,” asked the Doctor,eyeing the Altruist sharply, “that you create class distinctions in order to wipe them out? I thought that the idea of any class distinction ran counter to the principles of American democracy.”
“It is impossible to ignore the fact that the distinctions do exist,” answered the Altruist. “The lines of caste are just as exclusive here as in Europe.”
“And are you willing to forget them, and to tell those people that you meet them on terms of absolute equality? I think that you will do it,” smiled the Doctor, “just as long as you are not taken at your word.”
There was something about the Altruist that made him superior to petty annoyance of this kind. He was not angry.
“We can convince them of our sympathy, we can share with them our faith and our aspiration,” he said gently.
“My faith and aspiration would be a great support to them,” murmured Janet, her lip curling in self-scorn. “No, cousin Paul, just at present the relations betweenProvidence and me are a little strained, and the greatest service I can do the world is to hold my peace. There is no command to go into all the world and preach the interrogation point.”
After beating the air for this length of time we began to work, and in ten minutes had formed a plan for a woman’s club. It was to meet every week at Barnet House. It was to be a literary club, carried on by reading and by lectures. Once a week there was to be a social evening.
“We must have a party at least as often as that,” pleaded the Altruist. “Our parties are a great success. The neighbours do so delight in lemonade.”
“In short,” said Janet, “we will elevate the masses by Swinburne andfrappee!”
We reproved her for her flippancy, and proceeded to work out the details of our plan.