THE INDIAN AND THE SUPERFLUITIES OF LIFE
The white race may learn much from the Indian as to the superfluities
of life. There is no question but that we--the white race--are cursed
with the collecting habit; we are vexed by many possessions. And what
is the good of much of what we gather? Mere trash, accumulated for
show; bought without much thought merely to gratify a passing whim, and
half the time we don’t know what to do with our purchases when we have
made them. Our _houses_ are no longer _homes_, they are converted into
bric-a-brac establishments. Our children become a terror to us lest
they should touch this or that or the other, and our nervous systems
are wrecked because of dread lest our fine “Japanese bowl,” or our
elegant “Etruscan vase,” or our exquisite “Italian figurine,” or “that
lovely Hindoo idol,” should be injured.
A year or two ago I was the guest in the home of an eminent scientist,
whose wife is herself a remarkable woman, gifted as a writer and public
speaker, and yet whose home is laden with extraneous material to the
nerve-breaking point. One evening they were entertaining a well-known
author and lecturer, and the hostess had called upon him to tell of
some of his interesting experiences. The guest was a normal, healthy
man and gentle in his movements, but, while speaking, somewhat free
in gesticulation. In one part of his story he made a quick motion and
pushed his chair gently back. In doing so he overturned a Japanese
vase that stood on a slight pedestal near by. With a crash that shocked
the nerves of every one present, the valuable piece of bric-a-brac
fell. Fortunately, it was not broken, but, with blanched face, though
her voice was well under control, the hostess tenderly picked it up.
She endeavored to smooth over the accident, but the author’s interest
in his story was gone. He brought it to a lame conclusion, and gave an
evident sigh of relief,--though quite unconsciously,--when his wife
suggested that “the babies might need her presence at home.” After they
had gone I was witness of the grief and distress of the poor woman who
lamented the injury to her treasure, and who evidently valued it far
more than she did the comfort and welfare of her visitors and guests.
I sometimes go to homes where the furniture is of the elegantly
polished or “enameled” type. To place a book or one’s hand upon such
polish is to mar the surface. The hostess must either keep the table to
be merely looked at, and be in constant terror lest some one outwit her
vigilance and mar its “beauty,” or resign herself to seeing it used and
spoiled.
Now, of all of these things, I constantly ask myself, What’s the use?
For myself I value the health and happiness of my wife and my children
more than all the bric-a-brac that ever was, or ever will be, made. The
nerves of the former, and the healthy, untrammeled movements of the
latter, are worth far more than a few “curios.” And so with my guests.
I want my visitors to feel free to move around and about in my home, as
healthy men and women ought to do, and if there is anything in the way
of such action the sooner it is knocked down and smashed the better I
shall like it. And as for “enameled” furniture: if I found any of it
introduced into my house where I was constantly in danger of marring
it, I fear my “angry passions would rise,” and so would the polished
article, to find itself at the next moment on the woodpile. Human
happiness and comfort are of more value than many pieces of furniture,
and he, and he only, is wise who keeps life as simple as possible, and
free from these needless, labor-creating, nerve-wearing luxuries and
superfluities of life.
[Illustration: THE WIDOW OF MANUELITO, THE LAST GREAT CHIEF OF THE
NAVAHOS. ONE OF THE QUEENLIEST WOMEN IN DIGNITY, GRACE, AND CHARACTER I
HAVE EVER MET.]
In both men’s and women’s dress, too, something may be said on this
line. The tendency of the age is to add and add and add, until we are
burdened by the superfluous. Women want laces, embroideries, tucks,
ruffles, pleats, and ribbons; they quilt, braid, hem, and fell to a
fearful and wonderful extent,--all adding labor, trouble, and care to
life, and depriving them of time that could and should be more wisely
and profitably spent. No one loves to see woman or man neater or better
dressed than I, but there is a point of simplicity and native dignity
beyond which no one can go without getting into the realm of needless,
wasteful luxury and harmful superfluity. Some men are as bad as some
women, what with ties for every function and hour of the day, cuffs,
collars, vests, and creased trousers, all of which must be _a la mode_
and _au fait_. To me these things reveal as much _non compos mentis_
as they do _a la mode_, for mind should be, _and is_, superior to an
excess of such frivolity.
Rose Wood-Allen Chapman in _Good Health_ has sagely written upon this
subject. She well says:
“The one important thing in life is character; your own character,
the character of your husband, your children, your friends. All other
things should be judged by their bearing upon this important matter.
Things may be delightful in themselves; but if they tend to add to
your worries, if they are a barrier between you and your loved ones,
if they interfere with the development of the higher faculties of your
children, they become undesirable, inadvisable, and should be classed
with the superfluities of life.
“The mother who prepares for her baby dainty, hand-made garments,
wonderfully trimmed with lace and embroidery, in the majority of
instances is depriving that child of personal love and care that
rightfully belong to him. What does he care for such finery? He wants
his mother’s companionship, and for himself perfect freedom for
all forms of activity. To so attire him that he must be constantly
cautioned, ‘Now don’t get your dress dirty,' is to interfere with one
of his inalienable rights. The wise mother will make her baby’s clothes
simple, to serve as a background for his infantile charms, instead
of taking the attention away from him to center it upon elaborate
ornamentation.
“Many housekeepers there are who bemoan their inability to keep up the
interests of their girlhood. They have no time now to play the piano,
to read inspiring literature, to join the club, or to enter upon any
philanthropic work. They say they feel their deprivation; have they
ever tried to see how many of their household tasks could be eliminated
as superfluous?
“I have been in homes where there were two and sometimes three pairs of
curtains at each window. The effect was rich, but one whose mind was
awakened to the question of the superfluities could but think of the
extra work such hangings entailed.
“Then there are the ‘cozy corners,’ the Turkish divans smothered in
over-hanging draperies, which the furniture stores are so eager to
urge upon their customers as ‘the very latest style.’ Such corners are
gathering-places for dust, and an unnecessary addition to the work of
the home.
“Heavy carpets on the floors may feel soft under foot, but they are
hard to sweep, are never really clean, save after the annual beating,
and so are both unhygienic and burdensome.
“Think how much less drudgery must be performed by the woman who has
hard-wood or stained floors with a few medium-sized rugs! Her floors
can be wiped up quickly with a damp cloth, and her rugs thoroughly
cleaned with a minimum amount of effort.
“At the windows this same woman will have filmy net curtains, with
ruffled border, it may be, that are ordinarily cleansed by putting them
on the line where the wind can blow the dust out of them; or can easily
be laundered when more thorough cleaning is desired.
“On her walls will be a few artistic pictures, with no overhanging
festoons or ribbons to catch dust and add to the labor. Bric-a-brac
will be conspicuous for its absence; photographs will be put away,
instead of covering her dresser and the walls of her bedroom. In a
word, her aim will be to have her home light, airy, artistically
furnished, but in such a way as to be the least possible burden to her
and to her family. Husbands and children find it hard to be careful of
the things that have been bought for show. Why not dispense with them,
then, and have only that which is necessary and usable?
“Many housekeepers have learned to dispense with unnecessary
furnishings, but are still slaves to elaborate meals, especially when
they entertain.
“It is wise, in the first place, to remember that the health of the
family is conserved by simplicity in the meals. Even though they are
now used to a larger variety at each meal, they can be gradually
accustomed to a simple diet. No soup when there is dessert and no
dessert when there is soup, is a very good rule for dinner. The other
course should consist of a meat substitute and only two vegetables. A
simple breakfast food, with bread and butter and fruit, is enough for
the morning meal; while an equally simple supper should be entirely
satisfactory.
“It is a temptation to leave the paths of simplicity when company is
coming; but if we just remember that our friends come to see us, not to
eat our food, we will find it easier to restrain our inclinations in
this direction. Oftentimes housewives become possessed with a spirit
of emulation which leads Mrs. Smith to feel that she must set forth a
more elaborate meal than Mrs. Jones had served, while Mrs. Robinson
in turn strives to eclipse Mrs. Smith, and as a result meals become
so complicated as to be most burdensome to the hostess and almost
dangerous to the guests. Let us confine our efforts to making our
simple entertainment as attractive as possible, and furnishing such wit
and merriment therewith, such geniality and kindliness, as shall make
our guests feel that they have partaken of a feast.”
I have already, in other chapters, commented upon some of these
things, as revealed in the light of the Indian’s life. Their lives
are, perforce, models of simplicity, devoid of luxuries and also
of superfluities. It is not my intent to suggest that we should
revert to their method of living a simple and unluxurious life, but
I do long with all my heart that we might take lesson from them,
and find the golden mean between their life and our too complex and
superfluity-laden life. If health and happiness are the ends to be
attained in life _they_, with their rude simplicity, have surpassed
us, with our elegant and ornate complexity. And for me and mine I
prefer health and happiness rather than all the superfluities that
a commercially-cursed, bargain-counter, curio-loving, bric-a-brac
adoring, showy, shoddy civilization can give.