SEVERAL QUIET FORCES AT WORK.
Precipitous ascents and descents do not constitute the greater part
of life's journey. In the experience of very many they occur more
or less frequently, but they conduct to long intervals where the
way is comparatively level, although it may be flinty, rough, and
hedged with thorns. More often the upward trend or the decline of
our paths is so slight as not to be noticed as we pass on, but at
the end of years we can know well whether we are gaining or losing.
The Jocelyns, in common with thousands of others, had made a swift
descent from a position of comparative affluence to one of real,
though not repulsive, poverty. There was nothing, however, in their
fall that cast a shadow upon them in the eyes of the world except
as the unfortunate are always "under a cloud" to the common herd
that moves together in droves only where the sunlight of prosperity
fails. If Mr. Jocelyn could regain his former position, or a better
one, there had been nothing in his brief obscurity that would
prevent his wife and daughters from stepping back into their old
social place, with all its privileges and opportunities.
The reader knows, however, that his prospects were becoming more
and more dubious--that each day added a rivet to the chain that
an evil habit was forging. His family did not even suspect this,
although the impression was growing upon them that his health was
becoming impaired. They were beginning to accommodate themselves
to life at its present level, and the sense of its strangeness
was passing slowly away. This was especially true of Belle and the
children, upon whom the past had but a comparatively slight hold.
Mildred, from her nature and tastes, felt the change more keenly
than any of the others, and she could never forget that it raised
a most formidable barrier against her dearest hopes. Mrs. Jocelyn
also suffered greatly from the privations of her present lot,
and her delicate organization was scarcely equal to the tasks and
burdens it imposed. As far as possible she sought to perform the
domestic duties that were more suited to the stout, red arms of
those accustomed to such labors. It seemed essential that Mildred
and Belle should give their strength to supplementing their father's
small income, for a time at least, though all were living in hope
that this necessity would soon pass away. The family was American,
and Southern at that, in the idea that bread-winning was not woman's
natural province, but only one of the direful penalties of extreme
poverty. The working-woman of the South belonged to a totally different
class from that in which Mr. and Mrs. Jocelyn had their origin, and
prejudices die hard, even among people who are intelligent, and,
in most respects, admirable. To Mrs. Jocelyn and her daughters work
was infinitely preferable to dependence, but it was nevertheless
menial and undignified because of its almost involuntary and hereditary
association with a race of bond-servants. He is superficial indeed
in his estimate of character who thinks that people can change
their views and feelings in response to a brief demonstration of
the essential dignity of labor, especially after generations of
accumulating pride of caste have been giving the mind a different
bent. Moreover, this family of Southern origin had not seen in
the city of New York very much confirmation of the boasted Northern
ideas of labor. Social status depended too much on the number of
servants that people kept and the style in which they lived. Poverty
had brought them a more sudden and complete loss of recognition than
would have been possible in the South--a loss which they would not
have felt so greatly had they wealthy connections in town through
whom they might have retained, in part at least, their old relations
with people of their own station.
As it was, they found themselves almost wholly isolated. Mrs.
Jocelyn did not regret this so much for herself, since her family
was about all the society she craved; moreover in her girlhood she
had been accustomed to rather remote plantation life, with its long
intervals of absence of society. Mr. Jocelyn's business took him
out among men even more than he relished, for his secret indulgence
predisposed to solitude and quiet. He was living most of the time
in an unreal world, and inevitable contact with his actual life
and surroundings brought him increasing distress.
With Belle and Mildred it was different. At their age society and
recreation were as essential as air and light. Many are exceedingly
uncharitable toward working-girls because they are often found
in places of resort that are, without doubt, objectionable and
dangerous. The fact is ignored that these places are sought from
a natural and entirely wholesome desire for change and enjoyment,
which are as needful to physical and moral health as sunlight to
a plant. They forget that these normal cravings of the young in
their own families find many and safe means of gratification which
are practically denied to the tenement population. If, instead of
harsh judgments, they would provide for the poor places of cheap
and innocent resort; if, instead of sighing over innate depravity,
they would expend thought and effort in bringing sunshine into
the experiences of those whose lives are deeply shadowed by the
inevitable circumstances of their lot, they would do far more to
exemplify the spirit of Him who has done so much to fill the world
with light, flowers, and music.
Mildred began to brood and grow morbid in her monotonous work and
seclusion; and irrepressible Belle, to whom shop life was becoming
an old, weary story, was looking around for "pastures new." Her
nature was much too forceful for anything like stagnation. The
world is full of such natures, and we cannot build a dike of "thou
shalt nots" around them; for sooner or later they will overleap the
barriers, and as likely on the wrong side as on the right. Those
who would save and bless the world can accomplish far more by making
safe channels than by building embankments, since almost as many
are ruined by undue and unwise repression as by equally unwise and
idiotic indulgence.
If Mr. Jocelyn had been himself he might have provided much innocent
and healthful recreation for his family; but usually he was so
dreamy and stupid in the evening that he was left to doze quietly
in his chair. His family ascribed his condition to weariness and
reaction from his long strain of anxiety; and opium had already
so far produced its legitimate results that he connived at their
delusion if he did not confirm it by actual assertion. It is one
of the diabolical qualities of this habit that it soon weakens and
at last destroys all truth and honor in the soul, eating them out
with a corrosive power difficult to explain.
For the first week or two Belle was glad to rest in the evenings
from the intolerable weariness caused by standing all day, but
the adaptability of the human frame is wonderful, and many at last
become accustomed, and, in some sense, inured to that which was
torture at first. Belle was naturally strong and vigorous, and her
compact, healthful organism endured the cruel demand made upon it
far better than the majority of her companions. Nature had endowed
her with a very large appetite for fun. For a time her employment,
with its novelty, new associations, and small excitements,
furnished this, but now her duties were fading into prosaic work,
and the child was looking around for something enlivening. Where in
the great city could she find it? Before their poverty came there
were a score of pretty homes like her own in which she could visit
schoolmates; her church and Sabbath-school ties brought her into
relation with many of her own age; and either in her own home or
in those of her friends she took part in breezy little festivities
that gave full and healthful scope to her buoyant nature. She was
not over-fastidious now, but when occasionally she went home with
some of her companions at the shop, she returned dissatisfied. The
small quarters in which the girls lived rendered little confidential
chats--so dear to girls--impossible, and she was brought at once
into close contact with strange and often repulsive people. It
seemed that the street furnished the only privacy possible, except
as she brought girls to her own abode. Her mother and sister were
very considerate in this respect, and welcomed all of her acquaintances
who appeared like good, well-meaning girls; and Mildred would either
give up her share of their little room for the time, or else take
part in their talk in such a genial way as to make the visitors at
home as far as they could be with one in whom they recognized their
superior. Their light talk and shop gossip were often exceedingly
tiresome to Mildred, but she felt that Belle needed every safeguard
within their power to furnish. And this privilege of welcoming the
best companions her circumstances permitted was of great help to
Belle, and, for a time, prevented her restless spirit from longing
for something more decided in the way of amusement. Of necessity,
however, anything so quiet could not last; but where could the girl
find pleasures more highly colored? Occasionally she would coax or
scold her father into taking her out somewhere, but this occurred
less and less frequently, for she was made to feel that his health
required absolute rest when his business permitted it. If she had
had kind brothers the case would have been greatly simplified, but
thousands of working-girls have no brothers, no male companions
save those acquaintances that it is their good or, more often, their
evil fortune to make. Without a brother, a relative, or a friend
deserving the name, how is a young girl, restricted to a boarding-house
or a tenement, to find safe recreation? Where can she go for it on
the great majority of the evenings of the year? Books and papers
offer a resource to many, and Mildred availed herself of them to
her injury. After sitting still much of the day she needed greater
activity in the evening. Belle was not fond of reading, as multitudes
on the fashionable avenues are not. The well-to-do have many other
resources--what chances had she? To assert that working-girls ought
to crave profitable reading and just the proper amount of hygienic
exercise daring their leisure, and nothing more, is to be like the
engineer who said that a river ought to have been half as wide as
it was, and then he could build a bridge across it. The problem
must be solved as it exists.
To a certain extent this need of change and cheerful recreation
is supplied in connection with some of the mission chapels, and
the effort is good and most commendable as far as it goes; but
as yet the family had formed no church relations. Mildred, Belle,
and occasionally Mrs. Jocelyn had attended Sabbath service in the
neighborhood. They shrank, however, so morbidly from recognition
that they had no acquaintances and had formed no ties. They had
a prejudice against mission chapels, and were not yet willing to
identify themselves openly with their poor neighbors. As yet they
had incurred no hostility on this account, for their kindly ways
and friendliness to poor Clara had won the goodwill and sympathy
of all in the old mansion. But the differences between the Jocelyns
and their neighbors were too great for any real assimilation,
and thus, as we have said, they were thrown mainly on their own
resources. Mrs. Wheaton was their nearest approach to a friend, and
very helpful she was to them in many ways, especially in relieving
Mrs. Jocelyn, for a very small compensation, from her heavier tasks.
The good woman, however, felt even more truly than they that they
had too little in common for intimacy.
There is one amusement always open to working-girls if they are
at all attractive--the street flirtation. To their honor it can be
said that comparatively few of the entire number indulge in this
dangerous pastime from an improper motive, the majority meaning no
more harm or evil than their more fortunate sisters who can enjoy
the society of young men in well-appointed parlors. In most instances
this street acquaintance, although unhedged by safe restrictions,
is by no means indiscriminate. The young men are brothers or friends
of companions, or they are employed in the same establishment,
or else reside in the neighborhood, so that usually something is
known of their characters and antecedents, and the desire to become
friendly is similar to that influencing the young people of country
neighborhoods. As a rule these young people have few opportunities
of meeting save in the streets and places of public resort. The
conditions of life in a great city, however, differ too widely from
those of a village or country town, where every one is well known
and public opinion is quick and powerful in its restraints. Social
circles are too loosely organized in a city; their members from
necessity are generally to little known to each other; there are
too many of both sexes ready to take advantage of the innocent and
unwary, and their opportunities of escape from all penalty invite
the crimes suggested by their evil natures. Belle had been often
warned, and she had so much affection for her mother and so much
pride that she did not fall readily into indiscretions; nor would
she in the future respond, without considerable self-restraint,
to the frequent advances which she never failed to recognize,
however distant she might appear, and she would not have possessed
a woman's nature had she been indifferent to admiring glances and
the overtures of those who would gladly form her acquaintance. Still
it must be admitted that her good resolutions were fast weakening
in this direction.
Mildred's dangers were quite different from those which assailed
Belle, and yet they were very grave ones. Her mind and heart were
preoccupied. She was protected from even the desire of perilous
associations and pleasures by the delicacy and refinement of her
nature and her Christian principle. She shrank from social contact
with the ruder world by which she was now surrounded; she felt and
lived like one in exile, and her hope was to return to her native
land. In the meantime she was growing pale, languid, morbid, and,
occasionally, even irritable, from the lack of proper exercise and
change. She was not discouraged as yet, but the day of deliverance
seemed to grow more distant. Her father apparently was declining in
energy and health, and his income was very small. She worked long
hours over her fancy work, but the prices paid for it at the shops
were so small that she felt with a growing despondency it was but
a precarious means of support. Their first month in the old mansion
was drawing to a close, and they had been compelled to draw slightly
on the small sum of ready money still remaining after paying for
their summer's board. They still had a few articles in storage,
having retained them in hope of moving, at no distant time, into
more commodious quarters.
In their desire for economy they also fell into the very common
error of buying salt fish and meat, and other articles of food that
were cheap and easily prepared rather than nutritious, and Belle
was inclined to make her lunch on pastry and cake instead of food.
In teaching them a better way Mrs. Wheaton proved herself a very
useful friend. "Vat yer vant is sumthink that makes blood an'
stands by von," she had said; "an' this 'ere salt, dry stuff an'
light baker's bread and tea and coffee don't do this hat hall.
They's good henough as relishes an' trimmins an' roundins hoff, but
they hain't got the nourishin' in 'em that vorking people vants.
Buy hoat meal an' corn meal--make good bread of yer hown. Buy
good but cheap chunks of beef an' mutton an' wegetables, an' make
stews an' meat pies an' rich soups, an' say yer prayers hagainst
hall trashy things as hain't vorth the trouble of heatin'. Heggs,
too, ven ther're plenty, hare fust-rate, an' milk is better than
so much tea an' coffee, heven if the milkman do spill it in the
brook an' pick it hout hagain before we get it. Vorkin' hon tea
an' coffee is like keepin' the 'orse hagoin' on a vip hinstead of
hoats."
Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred were sensible enough to take her advice,
and although Belle complained at first over the more simple and
wholesome diet, she soon felt so much the better for it that she
made no further trouble.
As had been the case at the farmhouse, Mildred at last awakened
to the evils of a depressed and sedentary life, and felt that she
must look around for objects of interest. She began to spend more
time with Mrs. Wheaton, and found considerable amusement in her
homely common-sense. The good woman was all the more companionable
for the reason that she never presumed on a coarse familiarity
or indulged in a prying interest. Mildred also aided the Wheaton
children in their lessons, and gave more time to her own little
brother and sister, taking them out to walk in the cool of the day,
and giving much thought, while she plied her needle, to various
little expedients that would keep them content to remain away from
the street and the rude children that often made the old house
resound with boisterous sport. Mrs. Wheaton's children were in
the main well behaved, and there was much visiting back and forth
among the little people of the two families, but here the line was
drawn, and generally with very good reason. After all, perhaps,
the chief horror of tenement life to a family like the Jocelyns
consisted in the fact that just outside their door were hordes of
prowling little savages ignorant in the main of civilization, but
prematurely enlightened as to its vices. To prevent the inevitable
contamination which would result from indiscriminate association,
and to interest Fred and Minnie in their daily lessons, was
the constant effort of both Mildred and Mrs. Jocelyn. And yet, as
at the farmhouse, Mildred's conscience began to reproach her for
keeping too much aloof from the people who dwelt with her in the
old mansion. It was not necessary to make companions of them in
order to do them some good, and in aiding them to bear their burdens
she might in part forget her own. Mrs. Wheaton's hearty kindness
permeated the house like an atmosphere, and from her Mildred learned
the character and circumstances of each family quite correctly. "I
can get hon with 'em hall hexcept a hold daft German on the top
floor, oos a bit crazy hover the 'evens, but don't stand much chance
of hever gettin' hup hinto 'em. You've hoften seen 'im a-lookin'
at the stars an' things on the roof. 'E 'alf starves 'is family to
buy books an' maps an' a telescope. 'E 'ates me cos I tried to talk
religion to 'im vonce ven 'e vas sick, an' cos I told 'im 'e 'ad
no bizness to take his death a'cold on the roof o' vinter nights;
an 'ven 'e vonce gets a grudge hagainst yer 'e never lets hup."
Mildred had already become more interested in this old man than in
any other of her neighbors except Mrs. Wheaton, but had found him
utterly unapproachable. Not infrequently she spent part of the
hot evenings on the platform built over the old hip-roof, and had
invariably seen him there on cloudless nights studying the skies
with a telescope that appeared to be by no means a toy instrument;
but he always took possession of the far end of the platform, and
was so savage when any one approached thyt even Belle was afraid of
him. His wife, for a wonder, was a slattern German, and she spoke
English very imperfectly. With her several small children she lived
in a chaotic way, keeping up a perpetual whining and fault-fnding,
half under her breath from fear of her irascible husband, that was
like a "continual dropping on a very rainy day." Every now and then,
Mrs. Wheaton said, he would suddenly emerge from his abstraction
and break out against her in a volley of harsh, guttural German
oaths that were "henough to make von's 'air riz." Therefore it very
naturally happened that Mildred had become acquainted with all the
other families before she had even spoken to Mr. or Mrs. Ulph. On
the other inmates of the mansion her influence soon began to be
felt; for almost unconsciously she exercised her rare and subtle
power of introducing a finer element into the lives of those who
were growing sordid and material. She had presented several families
with a small house-plant, and suggested that they try to develop
slips from others that she sedulously tended in her own window. In
two or three instances she aided untidy and discouraged women to
make their rooms more attractive. The fact, also, that the Jocelyns
had made their two apartments, that were little if any better than
the others, so very inviting had much weight, and there sprang up
quite an emulation among some of the simple folk in making the most
of their limited resources.
"Instead of scolding your husbands for going out and perhaps taking
a glass too much, try and keep them home by making the living-room
homelike," she had said on several occasions to complaining wives
who had paved the way by their confidential murmurings. "Have some
extra dish that they like for supper--they will spend more if they
go out--then be a little smiling and chatty, and tell them to light
their pipes and stay with you, for you are a bit lonesome. If they
will have their mug of beer, coax them to take it here at home. Try
to put a few shillings in the savings bank every week, and talk
over little plans of saving more. If you can only make your husbands
feel that they are getting ahead a little, it will have a great
influence in steadying them and keeping them out of bad company."
Mildred had a genius for everything relating to domestic life, and
an almost unbounded belief in good home influences. Although she
rarely talked religion directly to the people whom she was trying
to benefit--she was much too diffident and self-depreciative
for this--her regular attendance at some place of worship on the
Sabbath and her course toward poor Mrs. Bute and her daughter had
given the impression that she was a very religious girl, and that
her motives were Christian in character. People's instincts are
quick in discerning the hidden springs of action; and her influence
was all the more effective because she gave them the fruits of
faith rather than stems of exhortation or which they were required
to develop fruit of their own. Much good fruit was eventually
produced, but more through her example, her spring-like influence,
than from any formal instruction.