The other morning, while this article was lying half finished on my desk,
I opened the last number of a Paris paper and began reading an account of
the drama, _Les Mauvais Bergers_ (treating of that perilous subject, the
“strikes”), which Sarah Bernhardt had just had the courage to produce
before the Paris public. In the third act, when the owner of the factory
receives the disaffected hands, and listens to their complaints, the
leader of the strike (an intelligent young workman), besides shorter
hours and increased pay, demands that recreation rooms be built where the
toilers, their wives, and their children may pass unoccupied hours in the
enjoyment of attractive surroundings, and cries in conclusion: “We, the
poor, need some poetry and some art in our lives, man does not live by
bread alone. He has a right, like the rich, to things of beauty!”
In commending the use of decoration as a means of bringing pleasure into
dull, cramped lives, one is too often met by the curious argument that
taste is innate. “Either people have it or they haven’t,” like a long
nose or a short one, and it is useless to waste good money in trying to
improve either. “It would be much more to the point to spend your money
in giving the poor children a good roast-beef dinner at Christmas than in
placing the bust of Clytie before them.” That argument has crushed more
attempts to elevate the poor than any other ever advanced. If it were
listened to, there would never be any progress made, because there are
always thousands of people who are hungry.
When we reflect how painfully ill-arranged rooms or ugly colors affect
our senses, and remember that less fortunate neighbors suffer as much as
we do from hideous environments, it seems like keeping sunlight from a
plant, or fresh air out of a sick-room, to refuse glimpses of the
beautiful to the poor when it is in our power to give them this
satisfaction with a slight effort. Nothing can be more encouraging to
those who occasionally despair of human nature than the good results
already obtained by this small attempt in the schools.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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