Boston (Mass.) -- Fiction; Women philanthropists -- Fiction
“It seems to me,” said one speaker, “that we ought to be careful about
talking or even allowing ourselves to think of those whom we call the
‘lower classes’ as being essentially different from ourselves. They are
ignorant, of course, and dreadfully shiftless, some of them, but they
have the same instincts and affections as we, and I for one respect
their individuality and their privacy as I would our own. I shouldn’t
like to ask them to do anything I wouldn’t do myself under similar
circumstances. If _we_ aren’t ready for coöperation, how can we expect
them to be?”
“I ask nothing of any one,” replied Mildred, “which I would not be glad
to do myself under the same conditions, or under better conditions. We
are learning to coöperate in a thousand ways of which our grandfathers
never dreamed. Under the pressure of new duties and interests which our
age has brought with it, we are learning to eliminate useless individual
work where combined work is better. The law of reciprocity is the divine
law. Wasteful individual effort belongs to the age of savagery.
Communism, the mingling of families, and absence of personal privacy can
never I am convinced be tolerated by civilized people; but coöperation
with one’s fellows in harnessing up the forces of nature to subserve our
material interests and leave man more free for the development of his
higher nature, seems to me the only rational thing for rational beings.
Any reluctance to see and accept this seems to me the result of
prejudice.”
“I should put it even a little stronger than that,” said Professor
Adler, gently. “Under every objection which has been presented to me by
the friends with whom I have for years been laboring in this very line
of effort, I have felt that there was not mere prejudice but a real,
unconscious selfishness. All objections like the one you mention are
mere matters of detail which could be properly adjusted, and the freedom
of the wife from all petty details that eat up the greater part of her
life ought to more than compensate for the slight sacrifice of feeling
involved in doing an unaccustomed thing. I believe that we shall
gradually come to it; and meanwhile our boarding-houses and hotels will
shelter larger and larger numbers of women driven from housekeeping by
the weight of domestic cares. They will have lost their home in losing
their cook!”
CHAPTER IX.
FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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