This Mechanical Age

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23145, 17 September 1938, Page 5 (Supplement)

This Mechanical Age

By BART SUTHERLAND

. jiONG all the solutions brought forA* war d for the domestic service proh- . n none seems to me personally more thotic and ineffectual than that which maintains: "Of course, we must rely uore and more on mechanical devices. The straw at which the drowning man clutches, the reed shaken by the wind to these strange metaphors, rather -' than to the reliability of tempered steel) would I for my own part, liken certain sage of old Persia, called unon to make a succinct history of mankind for a busy king reported: "Thev were born; they suffered; they died ••" And all of us know that this terse trinitv is true. No doubt the historian referred to the great links of love and separation and misunderstanding and death that make suffering common to the ages; but there are <omo forms peculiar to each age, and I should like to write a footnote to history and tell the world that, as far as 1 am concerned, the pangs of love fade awav before the trials of trying to use the'mechanical miracles of the twentieth century! Domestic Robots ' Of course, I am willing to admit that I am not mechanically minded. I know many women who aver —and I am sure they speak truthfully—that they can sit down on an armchair, as it were an oasis, find nonchalantly deal with the desert of dust around them by mean* , of a vacuum cleaner. Then, very comfortably, thef transfer themselves to another armchaij*, and so on. I am not sure that they cannot read a novel at the same time. Not so for myself, and, I am sure, > there are others who feel the same. Perspiringly we drag the little instrument that' looks like a cross between a dachshund and a small sea-serpent, erratically over the carpet, pausing at intervals to attach a different gadget . for special tasks. This thoroughness conies not so much from a love of i the task as from an urgent hope that if we/do the job thoroughly we may not have to do the room again for a whole week! Then there are these washing -machines. One gets the chimerical idea that these pick the washing up off the laundry floor.' with octopus but understanding arms; that they soak, ' rinse, blue, wring out; almost that they put out on the line, and take in at the threat of a storm, in order thatone may put oil a pretty frock, leave the machine to it, and indulge in a

round of hitherto only imagined social enjoyments! From my point of view, however, it would seem that the most outstanding aid of all comes from tho heat switch, in a/ saving of wood chopping; and, after all, every woman bows .that can always be accomplished by a gentle nagging at some male member of' the household. It means, then, the death of an age. rhey were very human, these hints of 'he help that one required; such service "as the modern equivalent of chivalry. But now men rush to pay the deposits on these tormenting pieces of mechanical perfection, knowing well that it 'neans the week-ends free for golf. Electric egg-beaters and cake-mixers and vegetable choppers must save time jnd energy in the actual operation, but would as soon wash a rotary hoe. "en the various cooking gadgets are s Peedy that it never does to use J?f. e than one at the same time, for ile orfe is saving the cofFee from oiling over, the toast burns, or vice ■ rsa .' , an d talk consists of staccato jaculations instead of the unhasted moT- came while one was slowly • king tgast by the fireside. The Wrong Telephone Manner there is that supreme instruI , torture, the telephone. We will , i( r° tIIQ bright and promising v. e , B lr ' who really was rather a tpniht r n t last'succumbed to worldly . Ptation; hor girl friend has got a in a factory, and she must go, too. Un _ ,s a Pity, because, when there were iS cted ™itors for lunch she kipvni re ?^- v pleased to get on her !„»■ 0 an( l dasjj down to tho butcher ]fwn? OU ,1 d or so °' cutlets. There is 'ble ei girl in the world availirnM, despondently you pose tho to your friends. "Oh," they I'J"#, "1 can't understand why ►° n , lav " the telephone in. If t r „ an K the -butcher up he'd send \Pp„ n ng immediately." ' P er haps their telephone mariner tVi r e ( )ersi 'asi\e than mine; perhaps Cl?;, ; a . ro ,li^or - If 1 ring up "Qi futile like this happens: Gif,,. ' . no > I'm very sorry, miss, but i S *' lo orders, and he's long ago." • tf &l« l you, just for once, up "°y on a bicycle?" miss, the boy has tho fist f!; V ™ oro Confident days, I would I telihl,,,,' , . manager, but over the I r ,R - llsua "y °ut, too. A spirit j| ,; ,'t |sn ' swoops over me, and, expressions of sorrow, I i a VPI,V f-:u ' ' lno °f poetry, 'f ,q an ?- . 0110 "f tho major afflictions f Uii© a „ ; which says: "Never the Ami anil the loved one n<) Hippant. mood 1 ■ 1 ,0(Ii ' 11 a»ul s«v: "Never the m..: "i

THE LAMENT OF AN OLD-FASHIONED HOUSEWIFE

The Plumtree j j All winter long, upon the ridgctop j : high, : : Aloof and strong, the ancient • • plumtree stands i : With arms flung wide against the ■ • drifting sky, j j Holding intangible mystery in his j I hands. j | Like a calm dreaming Buddha, far j i withdrawn, i j He contemplates the Heavens of i i Delight, \ ■ Leaning against the brilliance of the i j dawn, j ■ Or the bright glory of the frosty : | night. j i Though eager grasses leap around j • his bole, • | And birdsong quickens as the days j j grow clear, \ j Still storing joy within his singing j j soul • ; He dreams more deeply, seeming j | not to hear— • ; Until at last bursts ecstasy lo oiew— • j 7he monkish robe and calm are i j cast aside; j | A thousand cups of incense mist the i j blue; i j He shouts a Gloria to the country- j i side I i j -K. Pegler. j

time and the place and the infernal machine all together." For it seems to me that I should have liked the telephone better if I had lived in Elizabethan times, and [ could have spoken their more down-right language. What a difference if I could retort, on being told that lie about the manager: Odds borlikiiis, thou scurvy little knave That such a lie should soil thy baby lips' Now brine thy liego lord straight to me Or else unhand tno quick a pound of steak Or I will send my Koderick down lo poniard thee. . . . People seemed to get away with that sort of thing in those days, and I'll warrant the stripling would reply: Fair madam, I do beg thy suffrnnco now And I will straightway send a varlot lip With all that thou desirrst, . . . But this age is vague, indeterminate, nothing happens. \\'e wander in a nightmare wood of machines, their octopus arms menacing us, and our idea of heaven is the fairy-tale cottage of our childhood, where a kind old woman, who is straw-brooming the porch, asks us in. Perhaps that is the only solution for those t of us who cannot cope with life on this new and vast scale—that we. should Jive in smaller homes, amid simplicity.