A FIRST STEP.
With this great programme before her, the responsibilities of wealth
were no longer so oppressive. When power can be used for beneficent
purposes, who would not be powerful? And beside the mighty shadow of
this scheme, the smaller project for which Bunker was finding a house
looked small indeed. Yet was it not small, but great, and destined
continually to grow greater?
Bunker came to see her from day to day, reporting progress. He heard of
a house here or a house there, and went to see it. But it was too large;
and of another, but it was too small; and of a third, but it was not
convenient for her purpose; and so on. Each house took up a whole day in
examination, and Bunker's bill was getting on with great freedom.
The delay, however, gave Angela time to work out her new ideas on paper.
She invoked the assistance of her friend the cabinet-maker with ideas;
and, under the guise of amusing themselves, they drew up a long and
business-like prospectus of the proposed new institutions. First, there
were the High Schools, of which she would found six--three for boys and
three for girls. The great feature of these schools was to be that they
should give a liberal education for a very small fee, and that in their
play-grounds, their discipline, and, as far as possible, their hours,
they were to resemble the great public schools.
"They must be endowed for their masters' and mistresses' salaries, and
with scholarships; and--and--I think the boys and girls ought to have
dinner in the school, so as not to go home all day; and--and--there will
be many things to provide for each school."
She looked as earnest over this amusement, Harry said, as if she were
herself in possession of the fortune which they were thus administering.
They agreed that when the schools were built, an endowment of £70,000
each, which would yield £2,000 a year, ought to be enough, with the
school fees, to provide for the education of five hundred in each
school. Then they proceeded with the splendid plan of the new college.
It was agreed that learning, properly so called, should be entirely kept
out of the programme. No political economy, said the Newnham student,
should be taught there. Nor any of the usual things--Latin, Greek,
mathematics, and so forth--said the young man from the United States.
What, then, remained?
Everything. The difficulty in making such a selection of studies is to
know what to omit.
"We are to have," said Harry, now almost as enthusiastic as Angela
herself, "a thing never before attempted. We are to have a College of
Art. What a grand idea! It was yours, Miss Kennedy."
"No," she replied, "it was yours. If it comes to anything, we shall
always remember that it was yours."
An amiable contest was finished by their recollecting that it was only a
play, and they laughed and went on, half ashamed, and yet both full of
enthusiasm.
"The College of Art!" he repeated; "why, there are a hundred kinds of
art; let us include accomplishments."
They would; they did.
They finally resolved that there should be professors, lecturers, or
teachers, with convenient class-rooms, theatres and lecture-halls in the
following accomplishments and graces: Dancing, but there must be the old
as well as the new kinds of dancing. The waltz was not to exclude the
minuet, the reel, the country dance, or the old square dances; the
pupils would also have such dances as the _bolero_ and the _tarantella_,
and other national jumperies. Singing, which was to be a great feature,
as anybody could sing, said Angela, if they were taught. "Except my
Uncle Bunker!" said Harry. Then there were to be musical instruments of
all kinds. Skating, bicycling, lawn tennis, racquets, fives, and all
kinds of games; rowing, billiards, archery, rifle-shooting. Then there
was to be acting, with reading and recitation; there were to be classes
on gardening, on cookery, and on the laws of beauty in costume.
"The East End shall be independent of the rest of the world in fashion,"
said Angela; "we will dress according to the rules of Art!"
"You shall," cried Harry, "and your own girls shall be the new
dressmakers to the whole of glorified Stepney."
Then there were to be lectures, not in literature, but in
letter-writing, especially in love-letter writing, versifying,
novel-writing, and essay-writing; that is to say, on the more delightful
forms of literature--so that poets and novelists should arise, and the
East End, hitherto a barren desert, should blossom with flowers. Then
there was to be a Professor of Grace, because a graceful carriage of the
body is so generally neglected; and Harry, who had a slim figure and
long legs, began to indicate how the professor would probably carry
himself. Next there were to be Professors of Painting, Drawing,
Sculpture and Design; and lectures on Furniture, Color, and
Architecture. The arts of photography, china painting, and so forth were
to be cultivated; and there were to be classes for the encouragement of
leather-work, crewel-work, fret-work, brass-work, wood and ivory
carving, and so forth.
"There shall be no house in the East End," cried the girl, "that shall
not have its panels painted by one member of the family; its woodwork
carved by another, its furniture designed by a third, its windows
planted with flowers by another."
Her eyes glowed, her lips trembled.
"You _ought_ to have had the millions," said Harry.
"Nay, you, for you devised it all," she replied. She was so glowing, so
rosy red, so soft and sweet to look upon; her eyes were so full of
possible love--though of love she was not thinking--that almost the
young man fell upon his knees to worship this Venus.
"And all these beautiful things," she went on, breathless, "are only
designed for the sake of the Palace of Delight.
"It shall stand somewhere near the central place, this Stepney Green, so
that all the East can get to it. It shall have many halls," she went on.
"One of them shall be for concerts, and there shall be an organ; one of
them shall be for a theatre, and there will be a stage and everything;
one shall be a dancing-hall, one a skating rink, one a hall for
lectures, readings and recitations; one a picture gallery, one a
permanent exhibition of our small arts. We will have our concerts
performed from our School of Music; our plays shall be played by our
amateurs taught at our School of Acting; our exhibitions shall be
supplied by our own people; the things will be sold, and they will soon
be sold off and replaced, because they will be cheap. Oh! oh! oh!" She
clasped her hands, and fell back in her chair, overpowered with the
thought.
"It will cost much money," said Harry weakly, as if money was any
object--in dreams.
"The college must be endowed with £30,000 a year, which is a million of
money," Angela replied, making a little calculation. "That money must be
found. As for the palace, it will require nothing but the building, and
a small annual income to pay for repairs and servants. It will be
governed by a board of directors, elected by the people themselves, to
whom the Palace will belong. And no one shall pay or be paid for any
performance. And the only condition of admission will be good behavior,
with exclusion as a penalty."
The thing which she contemplated was a deed the like of which makes to
tingle the ears of those who hear it. To few, indeed, is it given to
communicate to a whole nation this strange and not unpleasant sensation.
One need not disguise the fact that the possession of this power, and
the knowledge of her own benevolent intentions, gave Angela a better
opinion of herself than she had ever known before. Herein, my friends,
lies, if you will rightly regard it, the true reason of the feminine
love for power illustrated by Chaucer. For the few who have from time to
time wielded authority have ever been persuaded that they wielded it
wisely, benevolently, religiously, and have of course congratulated
themselves on the possession of so much virtue. What mischiefs, thought
Elizabeth of England, Catharine of Russia, Semiramis of Babylon, and
Angela of Whitechapel, might have followed had a less wise and virtuous
person been on the throne!
It was not unnatural, considering how much she was with Harry at this
time, and how long were their talks with each other, that she should
have him a great deal in her mind. For these ideas were certainly his,
not hers. Newnham, she reflected humbled, had not taught her to
originate. She knew that he was but a cabinet-maker by trade. Yet, when
she involuntarily compared him, his talk, his manners, his bearing, with
the men whom she had met, the young Dons and the undergraduates of
Cambridge, the clever young fellows in society who were reported to
write for the _Saturday_, and the Berties and the Algies of daily life,
she owned to herself that in no single point did this cabinet-maker
fellow compare unfavorably with any of them. He seemed as well taught as
the last-made Fellow of Trinity who came to lecture on Literature and
Poetry at Newnham; as cultivated as the mediæval Fellow who took
Philosophy and Psychology, and was supposed to entertain ideas on
religion so original as to amount to a Fifth Gospel: as quick as the
most thorough-going society man who has access to studios, literary
circles, musical people, and æsthetes; and as careless as any Bertie or
Algie of the whole set. This it was which made her blush, because if he
had been a common man, a mere Bunker, he might, with his knowledge of
his class, have proved so useful a servant to her; so admirable a
vizier. Now, unfortunately, she felt that she could only make him useful
in this way after she had confided in him; and that to confide in him
might raise dangerous thoughts in the young man's head. No: she must not
confide in him.
It shows what a thoughtful young person Angela was, that she would blush
all by herself only to think of danger to Harry Goslett.
She passed all that night and the whole of the next day and night in a
dream over the Palace of Delight and the college for educating people in
the sweet and pleasant things--the College of Art.
On the next morning a cold chill fell upon her, caused I know not how;
not by the weather, which was the bright and hot weather of last July;
not by any ailment of her own, because Angela owned the most perfect
mechanism ever constructed by Nature; nor by any unpleasantness in the
house, because, now that she had her own room, she generally breakfasted
alone; nor by anything in the daily papers--which frequently, by their
evil telegrams and terrifying forebodings, do poison the spring and the
fountain-head of the day; nor by any letter, because the only one she
had was from Constance Woodcote at Newnham, and it told the welcome news
that she was appointed Mathematical Lecturer with so much a head for
fees, and imploring Angela to remember her promise that she would endow
Newnham with a scholarship. Endow Newnham! Why, she was going to have a
brand-new college of her own, to say nothing of the high schools for
boys and girls. Perhaps the cause of her depression was the appearance
of Bunker, who came to tell her that he had at last found the house
which would suit her. No other house in the neighborhood was in any way
to compare with it; the house stood close by, at the southwest corner
of Stepney Green. It was ready for occupation, the situation was as
desirable as that of Tirzah the Beautiful; the rent was extremely low,
considering the many advantages; all the nobility and gentry of the
place, he declared, would flock around a dressmaker situated in Stepney
Green itself; there were rooms for show-rooms, with plenty of other
rooms and everything which would be required; finally, as if this were
an additional recommendation, the house _belonged to himself_.
"I am ready," he said, with a winning smile, "to make a sacrifice of my
own interests in order to oblige a young lady, and I will take a lower
rent from you than I would from anybody else."
She went with him to "view" the house. One looks at a picture, a horse,
an estate, a book, but one "views" a house. Subtle and beautiful
distinction, which shows the poetry latent in the heart of every house
agent! It was Bunker's own. Surely that was not the reason why it was
let at double the rent of the next house, which belonged to Angela
herself, nor why the tenant had to undertake all the repairs, paper, and
painting, external and internal, nor why the rent began from that very
day, instead of the half-quarter or the next quarter-day. Bunker himself
assured Miss Kennedy that he had searched the whole neighborhood for a
suitable place, but could find none so good as his own house. As for the
houses of the Messenger property, they were liable, he said, to the
demands of a lawyer's firm, which had no mercy on a tenant, while, as
for himself, he was full of compassion, and always ready to listen to
reason. He wanted no other recommendation than a year's rent paid in
advance, and would undertake to execute, at the tenant's cost, the whole
of the painting, papering, whitewashing, roofing, pipes, chimneys, and
general work himself; "whereas, young lady," he added, "if you had taken
one of those Messenger houses, you cannot tell in what hands you would
have found yourself, nor what charges you would have had to pay."
He shook his fat head, and rattled his keys in his pocket. So strong is
the tendency of the human mind to believe what is said, in spite of all
experience to the contrary, that his victim smiled and thanked him,
knowing very well that the next minute she would be angry with herself
for so easily becoming a dupe to a clumsy rogue.
She thanked him for his consideration, she said, yet she was uneasily
conscious that he was overreaching her in some way, and she hesitated.
"On the Green," he said. "What a position! Looking out on the garden!
With such rooms! And so cheap!"
"I don't know," she replied; "I must consult some one."
"As to that," he said, "there may be another tenant; I can't keep offers
open. Take it, miss, or leave it. There!"
While she still hesitated, he added one more recommendation.
"An old house it is, but solid, and will stand forever. Why, old Mr.
Messenger was born here."
"Was he?" she cried, "was my--was Mr. Messenger actually born here?"
She hesitated no longer. She took the house at his own price; she
accepted his terms, extortionate and grasping as they were.
When the bargain was completed--when she had promised to sign the
agreement for a twelvemonth, pay a year in advance, and appoint the
disinterested one her executor of repairs, she returned to Bormalack's.
In the doorway, a cigarette in his mouth, lounged the idle apprentice.
"I saw you," he said, "with the benevolent Bunker. You have fallen a
prey to my uncle?"
"I have taken a house from him."
"The two phrases are convertible. Those who take his houses are his
victims. I hope no great mischief is done."
"Not much, I think."
The young man threw away his cigarette.
"Seriously, Miss Kennedy," he said, "my good uncle will possess himself
of all the money he can get out of you. Have a care."
"He can do me no harm, thank you all the same. I wanted a house soon,
and he has found me one. What does it matter if I pay a little more than
I ought?"
"What does it matter?" Harry was not versed in details of trade, but he
knew enough to feel that this kind of talk was unpractical. "What does
it matter? My dear young lady, if you go into business, you must look
after the sixpences."
Miss Kennedy looked embarrassed. She had betrayed herself, she thought.
"I know--I know. But he talked me over."
"I _have_ heard," said the practical man, looking profoundly wise, "that
he who would save money must even consider that there is a difference
between a guinea and a sovereign; and that he shouldn't pay a cabman
more than twice his fare, and that it is wrong to pay half-a-guinea for
Heidsieck Monopole when he can get Pommery and Greno at
seven-and-sixpence."
Then he, too, paused abruptly, because he felt as if he had betrayed
himself. What have cabinet-makers to do with Pommery and Greno?
Fortunately, Angela did not hear the latter part of the speech. She was
reflecting on the ease with which a crafty man--say Bunker--may compass
his ends with the simple--say herself.
"I do not pretend," he said, "to know all the ropes, but I should not
have allowed you to be taken in quite so readily by this good uncle. Do
you know----" His eyes, when they were serious, which was not often,
were really good. Angela perceived they were serious now: "Do you know
that the name of the uncle who was indirectly, so to speak, connected
with the Robin Redbreasts was originally Bunker? He changed it after the
children were dead, and he came into the property."
"I wish you had been with me," she said simply. "But I suppose I must
take my chance, as other girls do."
"Most other girls have got men to advise them. Have you no one?"
"I might have"--she was thinking of her lawyers, who were paid to advise
her if required. "But I will find out things for myself."
"And at what a price! Are your pockets lined with gold, Miss Kennedy?"
They certainly were, but he did not know it.
"I will try to be careful. Thank you."
"As regards going with you, I am always at your command. I will be your
servant, if you will accept me as such."
This was going a step further than seemed altogether safe. Angela was
hardly prepared to receive a cabinet-maker, however polite and refined
he might seem, as a lover.
"I believe," she said, "that in our class of life it is customary for
young people to 'keep company,' is it not?"
"It is not uncommon," he replied, with much earnestness. "The custom has
even been imitated by the higher classes."
"What I mean is this, that I am not going to keep company with any one;
but, if you please to help me, if I ask your advice, I shall be
grateful."
"Your gratitude," he said with a smile, "ought to make any man happy!"
"Your compliments," she retorted, "will certainly kill my gratitude; and
now, Mr. Goslett, don't you really think that you should try to do some
work? Is it right to lounge away the days among the streets? Are _your_
pockets, I may ask, lined with gold?"
"I am looking for work. I am hunting everywhere for work. My uncle is
going to find me a workshop. Then I shall request the patronage of the
nobility and gentry of Stepney, Whitechapel, and the Mile End Road. H.
G. respectfully solicits a trial." He laughed as if there could be no
doubt at all about the future, and as if a few years of looking around
were of no importance. Then he bowed to Angela in the character of the
Complete Cabinet-maker. "Orders, madame, orders executed with neatness
and despatch. The highest price given for second-hand furniture."
She had got her house, however, though she was going to pay far too much
for it. That was a great thing, and, as the more important schemes could
not be all commenced at a moment's notice, she would begin with the
lesser--her dressmaker's shop.
Here Mr. Goslett could not help her. She applied, therefore, again to
Mr. Bunker, who had a registry office for situations wanted. "My terms,"
he said, "are five shillings on application and five shillings for each
person engaged."
He did not say that he took half a crown from each person who wanted a
place and five shillings on her getting the place. His ways were ways of
pleasantness, and on principle he never spoke of things which might
cause unpleasant remarks. Besides, no one knew the trouble he had to
take in suiting people.
"I knew," he said, "that you would come back to me. People will only
find out my worth when I am gone."
"I hope you will be worth a great deal, Mr. Bunker," said Angela.
"Pretty well, young lady. Pretty well. Ah! my nephews will be the
gainers. But not what I might have been if it had not been for the
meanness, the--the--Hunxiness of that wicked old man."
"Do you think you can find me what I want, Mr. Bunker?"
"_Can_ I?" He turned over the leaves of a great book. "Look at this long
list; all ready to better themselves. Apprentices anxious to get through
their articles, and improvers to be dressmakers, and dressmakers to be
forewomen, and forewomen to be mistresses. That is the way of the world,
young lady. Sweet contentment, where art thou?" The pastoral simplicity
of his words and attitude were inexpressibly comic.
"And how are you going to begin, Miss Kennedy?"
"Quietly at first."
"Then you'll want a matter of one or two dressmakers, and half a dozen
improvers. The apprentices will come later."
"What are the general wages in this part of London?"
"The dressmakers get sixteen shillings a week; the improvers six. They
bring their own dinners, and you give them their tea. But, of course,
you know all that."
"Of course," said Angela, making a note of the fact, notwithstanding.
"As for one of your dressmakers, I can recommend you Rebekah Hermitage,
daughter of the Rev. Percival Hermitage. She cannot get a situation,
because of her father's religious opinions."
"That seems strange. What are they?"
"Why, he's minister of the Seventh-Day Independents. They've got a
chapel in Redman's Row; they have their services on Saturday because,
they say--and it seems true--that the Fourth Commandment has never been
abolished any more than the rest of them. I wonder the bishops don't
take it up. Well, there it is. On Saturdays she won't work, and on
Sundays she don't like to, because the other people don't."
"Has she any religious objection," asked Angela, "to working on Monday
and Tuesday?"
"No; and I'll send her over, Miss Kennedy, this evening, if you will see
her. You'll get her cheap, because no one else will have her. Very good.
Then there is Nelly Sorensen. I know she would like to go out, but her
father is particular. Not that he's any right to be, being a pauper. If
a man like me or the late Mr. Messenger, my friend, chooses to be
particular, it's nothing but right. As for Captain Sorensen--why, it's
the pride after the fall, instead of before it. Which makes it, to a
substantial man, sickenin'."
"Who is Captain Sorensen?"
"He lives in the asylum along the Whitechapel Road, only ten minutes or
so from here. Nelly Sorensen is as clever a work-woman as you will get.
If I were you, Miss Kennedy, I would go and find her at home. Then you
can see her work and talk to her. As for her father, keep him in his
right place. Pride in an almshouse! Why, you'd hardly believe it; but I
wanted to put his girl in a shop where they employ fifty hands, and he
wouldn't have it, because he didn't like the character of the
proprietor. Said he was a grinder and an oppressor. My answer to such
is, and always will be, 'Take it or leave it.' If they won't take it,
there's heaps that must. As old Mr. Messenger used to say, 'Bunker, my
friend,' or 'Bunker, my only friend,' sometimes, 'Your remarks is true
wisdom.' Yes, Miss Kennedy, I will go with you to show you the way." He
looked at his watch. "Half-past four. I dare say it will take half an
hour there and back, which with the last quarter of an hour's talk, we
shall charge as an hour's time, which is half a crown. Thank you. An
hour," he added, with great feeling; "an hour, like a pint of beer,
cannot be divided. And on these easy terms, Miss Kennedy, you will find
me always ready to work for you from sunrise to sunset, thinking of
your interests, even at meals, so as not to split an hour or waste it,
and to save trouble in reckoning up."