Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1873-10-23
The Poetry Of Work.


generally regarded the curse of the
world Is avery serious misfortune. and
we especially deplore this view because
much of the charm Of really valuable.
wholesome work is diminished by its
influence.
The popular idea that labor is vulgar,
that We must be above and beyond
work il we would be ladies and gentle
men, has led many youth and maiden
10 desplse truly honorable condition,
and 10 accept a life of shame and vice
because to work for living is not
quite contme il .tim in the light Of
worldly vision.
Ii We could be made to see work in
some Of It's poetical aspects, 10 feel
til att has something OF beauty IN il,
We should desplse IL less, and | hope
to say u little to lift the curse from off
It's face, andIo put idleness, which is
Satan ) emissary, under the ban which
has borne SO long.
But how shall We lead people out of
the error! How can people with such
prejudice be made TO feel that th.re
is any beauty in work:
Give better opportunities for culture
TO tue average worker. Let culture
set an example, make it fashion, and
we shall soon find that labor will be-
come reputable, and the good an! the
beauty OF it will soon be found out.
Jean lngelow has written to this
country, asking American women to
discover how domestic work is TO be
combined with high culture. She
says:
80 long as household work is
thought degrading (and nowhere is
this SO much the case as in America)
there never can be anything like
universal education"
Tins is too true; but | think the
prime reason of the American woman's
dislike of domestic work is that Irish
servants have 50 demoralized it.
If We had kept on in the ways of our
grand-mothers, and had not given over
our kitchens to these vandals we should
he more worthy, and better To day
Bridget bending over the wash,tub
with slIp-shod heels, and greasy dress
is not sight to inspire a thought as
TO the poetry Of the occupation but
let some young lady (who would bare
her arms to the shoulder to show them
at an evening party-but would think
it disgrace to be found with them
barred at the wash-tub,) let her give
over this feeling for once, and if she
do not find something attractive in the
foaming white suds, and do not feel
pleasure in contemplating the heaped
basket of white linen refreshed aud
renewed by her own industry. She
had no sense Of the beauty Of order.
and it is time she were taught more of
this and less of the schools.
Briuget kneading the bread does
not kindle in us liking for the work
but when we think how the delicate
Charlotte Bronte moulded the same,
with an open book before her, reading
as she worked, we feel that it might
still be invested with some of the grace
it shared with her
OF the ability to make clear starch
ing and ironing an agreeable employ
ment (as Miss Ingelow says it was in
the days of our grandmothers,) l am
very much doubt, unless other tools
than the present are devised by us.
We confess, if there is any instru-
ment OF labor which we utterly detest
and abominate, it is the thing we call
fat iron; a great hot, ugly, black
creature that lanes ones wrists, and
burns ones fingers, and it is altogether
suggestive of torment. Unless finer
tools, and newer processes are invent
ed, am afraid the most imaginative
will fail to find any poetry in the work.
A friend declares that, for fit of
the blues, she knows no better remedy
than to sweep and duet the chambers
OF her house. The moderate exercise,
the cheerful look that obtains, after
things have been so renovated, revive,
and put heart into her more than any
thing else could do. This may seem
a "Mrs. Joe Gargery" suggestion for
tightening ones spirit but We confess
to sympathy with it; having found
similar relief ourselves, humming
meanwhile some familiar air or repeat
ing some lines conned from the poets.
Miss Ingelow's perhaps, who sings: