Miss Charlotte then told Clara they were to be married in a month, and move into an elegant suite of apartments in the left wing of the Social Palace. She was going to Boston in a day or two, to choose the most charming furniture she could find. Felix was to organize the schools, and she was to have a share of that work. The idea of having something useful to do, seemed to inspire her. “In my old life,” she said, “I used to spend days and days helping to get up articles for fairs for charitable purposes; but there was never the right kind of satisfaction about it.”
“How could there be?” asked Clara. “Charity is an insult to human nature. What we want is to give the poor the conditions for a comfortable, independent life. Now my mother and Mrs. Kendrick have won a reputation for benevolence on about the poorest stock of virtue imaginable; though of course they have acted from good motives. They ride around in their carriages among the poor, and carry food and clothing—cast-off garments of their own children and themselves. My father has been trying for years to get the ladies here to establish a crèche, as they do in foreign cities—a place for poor women to leave their little children when they wish to go out to do work. This would enable them to keep their elder children in school, instead of at home to nurse the little ones. Then he would have them establish some industry by which the poor women could earn money; but he could never get them to do it.”
“No,” said Charlotte; “women’s lives are so narrow, their ambition so dwarfed, that most of them actually enjoy going in their carriages and rich clothing into the homes of the poor and patronizing them. I confess I always felt like a fish out of water, and generally contrived to give money, and let somebody else do the rest. You may palliate wretchedness by charity, but you can never raise the condition of the poor by it.”
“Dependence and degradation are synonymous,” said Clara; “and now you see why this workingmen’s palace is a mighty work. There, for their labor, all the industrious can have comforts and luxuries beyond even the power of the rich to enjoy, while their rents go to pay for their homes.”
“Oh, it is a noble work!” exclaimed Miss Delano. “I am catching, imperceptibly, the great enthusiasm of Paul and Felix. I see what must be the educational influence of these daily baths, these walks in beautiful gardens and groves, with music, and rare green-houses filled with exotics, the splendid schools, the reading-room, the library, the societies. Why, it is enough to inspire the coldest and most selfish heart.”
“And you see clearly, if all this was given to the people as a charity——”
“Why, it would not have a thousandth part of the good effect. The hope of owning all this, will so elevate the honest pride of these people, give them such strength and courage to work. Why, they will not care how much rent they pay.”
“No; the count says the great trouble will be, that these laborers will deny themselves leisure and proper clothing, and put everything into their rents; but he is sure that it would not be well to have them own it too soon. They will be so much better able to appreciate and enjoy the ownership after ten or fifteen years, when the new and better educated generation will come on the stage to help preserve the order and prosperity of the institution. It does my heart good that you are going to live there and help on the education.”
“Oh, you needn’t say anything to inspire or encourage me. I tell you I am a radical, a social reformer of the deepest dye,” replied Miss Charlotte gayly, as she took her leave.
Later in the day Paul came. He walked with Clara and Susie through the green-houses and nurseries, now largely occupied by the stock for the Social Palace. Already thousands of trees had been set out in the new grounds, and were doing well, while the great conservatory in the court of the right wing was being rapidly filled, under Susie’s direction. The great palm, of historical fame, was in its place, having borne its journey in May without the slightest injury. The great pink blossoms of Susie’s banana-trees had long since fallen, and the bunches of young fruit were ripening, while the rich perfume of exotics in great variety filled the air. Passing back to the house, through the old conservatory, the little one first built, and which Susie kept now only for flowers in blossom, the count expressed great admiration for the two quite large orange-trees, laden with blossoms, and he asked her how she managed to make these flower so long after the usual time. “Why, it is very simple,” said Susie; “by keeping them back; that is the technical term for denying them water and plenty of sunlight. Then when you are ready, you bring them right under the glass, in a warm room, and sprinkle them lavishly every day at sunset. They can’t resist; they are powerless, and must send out their blossoms, whether they like it or not.”