With a heart full of the noblest phantasies, the most lofty aspirations; purified of the last trace of that popular egotism which makes the self-conscious striving for one’s own salvation antecedent to every other aim of life; beating high with an all-embracing affection for earth and the children of earth, bred of a natural ardour of disposition and nurtured upon the sweet and mighty thoughts of all great men; with a heart yearning for action of some kind, weary of a life bounded within the lines of self-study and introspection, desirous of nothing more than to efface the recollection of self in complete devotion to the needs of those million sufferers whose voices had long cried to her with ever-growing pathos, Helen Norman had set foot once more upon the shores of England. Commencing upon that day a new page in her diary, she headed it with the lines of Longfellow, as an appropriate motto:
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
The first few days were spent in walks alone, which she planned each morning by reference to a map of London, choosing in preference those districts which she knew by reputation as mean and poverty-stricken. As yet she had never seen poverty in its worst shapes, and she now for the first time became acquainted with the appearance of a London slum. With a thin veil drawn close over her face, often with a step quickened by involuntary horror, or even fear, she walked in turn through the worst parts of Soho, through Seven Dials, and the thoroughfares which spread themselves around that reeking centre, through Drury Lane and Clare Market, through all the unutterable vileness which is to be found on the other side of the river, then through everything most heart-breaking that the wide extent of the East End has to show. In this way she learnt from actual experience what she had hitherto only been able to see in fancy, and it is but slight reproach to the powers of her imagination to say that never in her most fearful visions had she attained to a just appreciation of the reality. As she walked hurriedly along she would now and then behold sights which made the hot tears of pity or of indignation start to her eyes; but for the most part the ardour of a righteous wrath, to think that such things could be permitted to exist, dried up the fountain of tears, and only left her strengthening herself in firm resolve that what one determined heart and mind could effect towards the alleviation of all this hellish misery, that should be her aim as long as her life lasted.
Before setting to her task she deemed it necessary to procure her guardian’s assent to what she was about to do, and, for the purpose of acquainting him with the designs, requested a quarter of an hour’s conversation with him in the library. This opportunity being obtained, she laid before him all her aims and aspirations in clear, direct language, every word of which seemed to burn and glow, as fresh from the anvil of her thought; and then requested his permission to enter upon this mode of life. Mr. Gresham manifested no surprise, it was part of his philosophy never to be surprised at anything, but he allowed several minutes to elapse before making any reply.
“And how do you purpose setting about such a work, Helen?” he asked, at length, gazing at her with a half-suppressed ironical smile, which, however, could not hold its place upon his lips before the earnest, open gaze of his ward. “I suppose you must have some definite plan for — for getting rid of your money?”
“I beg that you will not think that I am going to be recklessly extravagant, on pretence of charity,” said Helen, in reply to the last phrase. “I shall indeed give money when I see it is needed, but I have already convinced myself that money can by no means be the principal instrument of one who sincerely wishes to benefit these poor people. On this point I have my own ideas.”
“But would it not be better, if you are determined to trouble yourself so much about these tatterdemalions, to give your relief in the form of subscriptions to well-known charities, which have much better opportunities of doing good than any single individual can have?”
“Doubtless they have better opportunities,” returned Helen, “but what I have already seen convinces me that they do not use them. The efforts of. bodies are commendable and excellent — in their proper places. But for the work I see before me, individual effort is alone fitted; of that I am convinced.”
“But, my dear child,” said Mr. Gresham, with a smile of indulgent pity, “you surely have not got the idea into your head that you are going alone the rounds of these pestilence-breeding slums? Have you the remotest notion of the kind of beings by whom they are inhabited?”
“Only too exact a notion. I have spent the last few days in penetrating the worst districts. I know precisely the nature of my task.”
Mr. Gresham looked into his ward’s face, where exquisite beauty was heightened by a flash of generous ardour, and he felt, though he yet would not confess it, that here was a nature for which in his classification of mankind he had left no place.
“But you altogether lack experience in such affairs,” he urged, compelled, in spite of himself, to assume a tone of serious argument very unusual in him. “You will be robbed and pillaged wherever you go.”
“For my lack of experience I must try to find a remedy. It is my present intention to apply to some clergyman in one of these neighbourhoods, and to offer him my services in the capacity I have chosen for myself, asking him to afford me the benefit of the experience he must naturally have obtained in the fulfilment of his duties.”
“Then you will become what they call a Bible-reader.”
“I shall not willingly class myself under that head,” replied Helen, “but if I am convinced that good might in some instances be done by reading the Bible aloud, I shall have no hesitation in doing so.”
Mr. Gresham smiled, with an expression of humorous despair, and began to pace the room.
“May I hope to have your consent, Mr. Gresham, to what I propose?” asked Helen, when some minutes had thus elapsed.
“If you proceed as you suggest,” said her guardian, “and act strictly under the advice of some clergyman, whom, bye-the-by, I must see and have a little talk with, I shall make no further objection, for I am perfectly convinced that a very brief trial will give you a wholesome distaste for these abominations. Would you like to know my opinion of the people you are going to endeavour to benefit?”
“I should, if you please, sir,” replied Helen, calmly.
“Very well. In my opinion, then, they are not to be classed with human beings, but rather with the brutes. Persistent self-brutalisation, through many generations, by all the processes of odious vice which the brain of man has ever invented, has brought them to a condition worse, far worse, than that of the dogs or horses that do their bidding. It is my firm belief that their degeneration is actually and literally physical; that the fine organs of virtue in which we possess all that we have of the intellectual and refined, have absolutely perished from their frames; that you might as well endeavour to teach a pig to understand Euclid as to teach one of these gaol-birds to know and feel what is meant by honesty, virtue, kindness, intellectuality. That they have become such is, I say, the result of their own vices. Unless you can take all the children, one by one, as they are born in these kennels, and remove them to some part of the New World where they shall grow up under the best influences of every kind, so, by degrees, letting the old generations rot away in their foulness, and then, when they are all dead, set fire to the districts they inhabited, totally rebuild them, and fetch back to their renovated homes the young men and women who have grown to maturity, healthy, clean, and educated — unless you can do all that, you need never hope, Helen, to better the condition of the poor of London.”
“That, I fear,” replied Helen, with a sweet smile, “would be beyond my power; and yet I will venture to persevere in the belief that I can better the condition of at least a few. This belief depends upon the view I have formed of their condition, and it is this: Without denying that their vices may have had very much to do with the misery they suffer under, I firmly believe that this misery is in the greatest degree the result of the criminal indifference and the actual cruelty and oppression of the higher ranks of society, those ranks out of which come the leaders of popular fashion and the actual governors of the country. And even those vices are in a very great measure the result of this indifference and oppression; for does it seem credible that not until this very year have the governors of England made any effort to provide adequate education, even of the simplest kind, for the poor of this country? I should not tell the truth if I denied that these wretched creatures excite horror and disgust in me as often as they excite pity, but I am glad to say that my reason outweighs my mere emotions, and the allowances it makes for them forbid me to regard them with absolute contempt. I will grant that they often seem mere beasts, but I cannot, I will not believe that this is more than seeming. The greatest men that the world has known have ever retained to the last a vivid faith in humanity. If ever I feel disposed to fall into doubt and despair I shall seek consolation in their words, and I doubt not I shall find it.”
“Very well, Helen,” replied Mr. Gresham, with a slight shrug, “far he it from me to act the domestic tyrant. Only acquaint me with your exact plans.”
“I will not fail to do so as soon as they are formed,” returned Helen. And so the interview concluded.
After a few more days spent in investigation, in which she had no aid, Helen obtained the names of three clergymen to whom she determined to write, offering her services in their respective parishes for charitable and educational purposes. Two of these were Church of England clergymen, the third was a Dissenter. To the first she wrote as follows: —
“Portland Place, “30th July, 1870.
“Sir,
“Having considerable leisure and some little means at my disposal, it is my desire to employ both in an effort to improve the condition, physical, moral, and intellectual, of at least a few among the multitudes of poverty-stricken people that inhabit. the worst districts of London. But as I am quite without experience in such work, and have no adequate knowledge of London, I should be glad if I could place myself under the direction of some clergyman whose acquaintance with such scenes of misery is extensive, and who would be glad of an earnest volunteer to give him some little assistance in his charitable endeavours. It is in consequence of this wish that I venture to address myself to you.
“I must, however, refer to one point which is of essential importance to me. Though my age is but little more than nineteen, I have for some years devoted myself to serious study, one’ of the results of which has been that I am no longer able to conscientiously consider myself a member of any of the Christian Churches. Nothing is farther from my thoughts than a desire to press upon you the reasons which have led me to this attitude. I must merely say that for the present it is unalterable, and I could not undertake to devote attention to arguments intended for my conversion. Under these circumstances you will think it strange that I make these offers to a clergyman. My reason is, that as I am myself, I trust, quite free from bigotry in my beliefs, I can also hope that a minister of the Church will bear with what he may consider my errors, and not allow them to stand in the way of any usefulness of which I may be capable. I need hardly say that I should confine my attention solely to the bodily and mental condition of the poor, seeing that I believe it is their bodies and minds that most pressingly call for attention.
“I trust, sir, that the earnestness of my motives may prove an excuse for my freedom in thus addressing you, and beg to remain,
“Yours respectfully, “Helen Norman.”
Alas for the na?veté which could lead a high-minded girl to despatch such a letter to a minister of the Church of England! Two days after sending this to the c............