It was my privilege to know her, and in my gallery of heroes she has a foremost place. Strong men may do and dare and die. Firemen, colliers, lifeboatmen, may risk their lives to save others; martyrs may face the flames, and prophets may undergo persecutions. Their deeds live, and their stories thrill us. But Hettie Vizer stands on a higher plane still: a slum-girl, but a lady; a foster-mother, with a mother's love; a child enduring poverty, hard work, bereavements, and burning consumption. But, rising triumphantly over them all, she listened to the bells of God as they rang her into that place where sorrows and sighing are no more.
And now her younger sister has succeeded her, for the home is still kept together, and every week their little budget is considered, as it was "when Hettie was alive."
I have elsewhere spoken of the patient courage shown by weak and elderly women, but I must again refer to it, for in my judgment there is no sphere of life wherein greater courage is exhibited. For it must be borne in mind that they are not sustained by hope. It may be said that there is a good deal of fatalism connected with their courage and endurance, and doubtless this is true; but no one can deny their courage, endurance, and magnificent self-reliance. I have in my mind as I write some hundreds of women engaged in London home industries whose lives and struggles are known to me and who compel my veneration, so when courage is spoken of I like to think of them; for though the circumstances under which they live and the wrong they suffer bring a terrible indictment against us, no one can, no one shall, deny their possession of great courage, poor, weak, and elderly though they be.
Ay, it takes some courage to face day after day their life. I do not think that I am short of pluck, but I am quite certain that I should want to lie down and die were I submitted to lives such as theirs. Men with animal courage could not endure it, and I freely grant that even patient women ought not to endure it: perhaps, for the sake of future generations, it might be best for them to die rather than endure it.
But when I see them and know their circumstances, see their persistent endurance and their indomitable perseverance, I marvel! And in spite of the oppression they suffer I know that these women are exhibiting qualities that the world sadly needs, and are showing a type of heroism for which the world is bound to be ultimately the better. Poor brave old women! how I respect you! I venerate you! for the only hope that touches your heart is the hope that you may keep out of the workhouse, and be buried without parochial aid. Poor brave old women! I never enter one of your rooms without at once realizing your brave struggle for existence. I never see you sitting at your everlasting machines without realizing your endless toil, and I never see your Industrial Life Assurance premium-book lying ready for the collector without realizing that the two pennies that are ready also are sorely needed for your food. Poor brave old souls! how many times when your tea-canister has been quite empty, and 4.30 in the afternoon has come, and the collector has not yet called, have you been tempted to spend those pennies and provide yourself with a cup of tea? How many times have you picked up the pennies? how many times have you put them down again? for your horror of a parish funeral was too strong even for your love for a cup of tea! Brave old women! is there a stronger, more tragical, temptation than yours? I know of none. Esau sold his birthright for a tasty morsel, well fed as he was; but you will not surrender your "death right"—nay, not for a cup of tea, for you are made of better stuff than Esau. So you go without your tea; but your burial money is not imperilled. Yes, it takes some moral courage to resist such a temptation; but there is no glamour about it: the world knows not of it; nevertheless, it is an act of stern self-repression, an act of true heroism. Shame upon us that it should be required! glory to us that it is forthcoming! What a life of heroism a poor woman has lived for that ten, twenty, or forty years, who, in spite of semi-starvation, has resisted the temptation to spend her burial money! Those few pounds so hardly saved are as fragrant as the box of costly ointment poured upon the Master's feet, and convey the same sentiment, too, for their brave old souls respect their poor old bodies, and against their day of burial they do it! It may be a mean ambition, but of that I am by no means sure; still, it is better than none, for poor, desolate, and Godforsaken must the old woman be who does not cherish it. Poorer still will the old women be, and more desolate their hearts, when this one ambition disappears, and they are heedless, apathetic, and unconcerned as to how and where their poor old bodies are buried.
So the heroism of the slums is of the passive more than the active kind, of the "to be and to suffer" sort rather than of the "to do and dare." And it must needs be so, for opportunities of developing and exhibiting the courage that needs promptitude, dash, and daring have very largely been denied the people who live in our narrow streets. But their whole lives, circumstances, and environments have been such that patience under suffering, fortitude in poverty, and perseverance to the end could not fail to be developed. In these qualities, despite all their vices and coarseness, poor people, and especially poor women, set a splendid example to the more favoured portions of the community.
CHAPTER XI A PENNYWORTH OF COAL
It was winter-time, and the cold damp fog had fallen like a heavy cloud on East London. The pavements were grimy and greasy; travelling, either on foot or by conveyance, was slow and dangerous. The voices of children were not heard in the streets, but ever and again the hoarse voice of some bewildered driver was heard asking his way, or expostulating with his horse. Occasionally a tell-tale cough came from some foot-passenger of whose proximity I had been unaware, but who, like myself, was slowly groping his way to a desired haven.