The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1916-08-29
The Elegance of the Useless
BY Or. FRANK CRANE
Copyright. 1915. by Frank Crane)

Always the useless is the most chic.
Always the more Indispensable, neces-
sary and vital mans business, the
meaner his station in life.
The fine lady, pulling the ears of fat
poodle in the parlor, is far in the social
scale above the woman getting dinner in
the kitchen.
To be in the very choicest circle, TO
shine at Newport or Bar Harbor, to get
your name and face on the society page
of the Sabbath newspaper, and to be no.
ticed in the tattling columns of the un-
speakable periodicals and chronicle the
doings of the smart set. you must so
order your life that nothing you do is Of
the least value to mankind better still
If your net influence is subtly noxious.
The crowning grace of kings, mobiles,
and all magnificent ones is to be utterly
of no account,
This trait and craving appears early in
children. Mamma" said the little FIVE
year-old boy, Il don't care what you get
me for Christmas so long as you don't
get me anything useful.
Perhaps the root of the matter is not
evil. We instinctively like play better
than work. because play is exertion for
the pure JOY Of self-expression. while
work is exertion to attain some deferred
benefit. And now tastes better than
after while.
We all want TO escape the drudgery OF
work. But there is true way and
false way Of escape. The true way is
through craftsmanship, art and love.
These transform work, and make it q
kind of divine play.
The false way is to do that which Is
useless.
There is nobility in labor because the
laborer's mind has noble enthusiasm
The abiding JOY Of the race is found
among its workers, who have the fire
and the vision.
The men who love TO build bridges,
bore tunnels. run locomotives. construct
houses make roads, paint pictures, carve
statues, write stories, act plays, cook
food. these are they who have found that
which redeems the sordidness Of exist
ence. Theirs is the halo, the CLEAN.
The idlers who pursue the useless,
whose palate is titilated only by the
septic, they are humanity's rotten men,
bers. wherein breed all manner Of de-
structive microbes.
They still infest. still dominate, the
Imagination of the purblind millions.
Still the grandest of enterprises is to
make war, to kill, torture, and destroy.
Bands play when armed men parade, not
when workers go to the factory. We
still sing and shout when We go out to
murder. and groan when We go to work.
We keep step when we carry gun, and
shuttle along with the dinner pail
Still our imperial figure is the bloody
handed sinking souled war lord. And
we weep over the man with the hoe.
"Lucius Verus," says Walter Pater,
was but highly expressive type of
class. He had that strange capacity for
misusing the adornments Of life with a
mastery grace; as if such misusing were
the quite adequate occupation Of an intel
lgence powerful but distorted. He had
come to love his delicacies best out Of
season. and would have gilded the very
flowers. The people saw him publicly
feeding his favorite horse Fleet with al
monds and sweet grapes, wearing the
animals image in gold, and finally build
ing him a tomb"
Such is the genius that has always
marked the imperial purple
The poison Of a nation comes from Its
uppermost classes, its scum, not It's
dregs
RIFLE OF A HIGHER COURT.