Part 18

Some sympathetic and leisured ladies have formed themselves into a guild to give such children as I saw at the florist’s window growing flowers to tend and love. I do not know the ladies. We live in the same city, but in a different world.

And yet we have some things in common, these good ladies and I. Perhaps many things, but chief of all a love for children and flowers. In our different worlds, so little alike, this love flourishes with equal freedom. My wife loves blossoms and babies, too, but she is not a member of the guild. Its meetings are not held in our world.

The guild got together 10,000 little children from the tenements of this great city of New York. To each child a potted plant was given, in the hope that its presence would brighten the home, and its care “refine” and “spiritualize” the child.

Good, generous ladies of the guild!

And from each child was exacted the promise that upon a given date at the end of a full year, the plant should be brought back and placed upon exhibition. Ribbons were promised as prizes to those children whose plants should be in the most flourishing condition.

The year passed. The day of the exhibition arrived. Richly gowned women, calling themselves “patronesses,” were there. They went in luxuriously equipped automobiles to smile and be condescending toward children who went in rags and were hungry.

But not all the children to whom the year before they had given flowers were there. Some of them had drooped during the summer and died like flowers in parched ground.

And many of the plants were withered and dead, too.

What an exhibition, to be sure! Geraniums without fragrance. Geraniums which a year ago bore deep, rich, green leaves and bright scarlet blossoms, were now straggling and wretched, with pale-green—almost white—stems, with poor, sickly-looking little leaves and with no flowers. And many a pot containing only a withered and rotted stick, with maybe a little note, “Please, ma’am, it died because our rooms is dark.”

Some of the richly gowned women wept as they looked at the long rows of pitiful flowers, and at the long rows of withered and dead flowers.

Wept? I wonder why.

I wonder if they wept because they began to appreciate faintly how poverty withers and oppresses all life; or only because the sight of so many dead flowers, and flowers worse than dead, overwhelmed them? Or had they heard the flowers tell their sad little histories?

For every one of the flowers had a story to tell to understanding hearts.

Yes, madam, that tall, withered geranium stick, which made you weep as you remembered how beautiful its scarlet blossoms had looked the year before, when you gave it to little crippled Polly with the flaxen hair, could unfold a story, if you could but understand it. But it is a story of the tenement, not of your world. And you cannot understand.

But little Polly (who doesn’t understand either) can tell you enough to give you cause for tears. Real tears. Human tears.

I could tell you, for I know the tenement. It is in my world. But let Polly tell.

* * * * *

“When youse gived us th’ prutty flow’r, leddy, I put ’er in our winder so’s all th’ kids ’ud see from th’ street. An’ mamma wus so proud! An’ me little baby bruver jes’ went wild, leddy. An’ when mamma wus washin’, he’d stay so good and call out, so pert-like, ‘Putty! putty!’ An’ mamma said ‘twus a blessin’, ’cause she wus able to do th’ washin’ when baby wus playin’.

“But when winter comed, leddy, yer flow’r an’ th’ leaves wus all dead like, an’ comed off. An’ me mamma said ’twus th’ cold. An’ when I put ’er by th’ airshaft she said ’twus too dark. An’ so yer flow’r jes’ died like, an’ mamma wus so cut up washin’ days, for me bruver wus teethin’ an’ there warn’t no flow’r.

“But mamma said yer flow’r ’ud come up in th’ summer. So I jes’ kep’ waterin’, an’ when th’ fine days comed I put ’er in our winder again. An’ it growed a bit, leddy, an’ mamma an’ me wus so glad! But ’twus allus growin’ a bit an’ then dyin’ like, ’cause, mamma said, we didn’t git no sun in our rooms. An’ I used to cry in th’ nights ’bout that flow’r, leddy!

“An’ when summer comed an’ folks wus sleepin’ ’pon their fire-’scapes, I put yer flow’r outside an’ watered ’er ev’ry day. But when me little bruver wus sick, an’ th’ doctor said he mus’ go to th’ country somewheres, yer flow’r jes’ died an’ dried up like a stick, leddy. Me little bruver died, too, an’ th’ doctor said he’d ’a’ lived if he’d gone into th’ country.

“I’m sorry, leddy, fur yer flow’r. P’raps ’twus ’cause it never went to no country place. I tried me best, leddy, but—”

* * * * *

No, don’t reproach yourself, madam. You didn’t know. How could you know, living in another world? It was really good of you to think of the tenement children, and to give them your flowers.

Poor little children of the tenements! It was good of you to think of them. Their homes are squalid, and flowers do make the home brighter. And their little lives do need the refining and spiritualizing influence of flowers.

_But neither the babies nor the blossoms can flourish there. They pine and droop and die together. True, some of them live—babies and blossoms—but how?_

You are a woman and you love children and flowers. Tell me, did not the pale, sickly children and the pale, sickly plants impress you as even more saddening than the dead plants—the constant reminders of dead children?

Their slow, prolonged dying is more terrible than death to me. And I love them both, children and flowers.

I honor your tears. They proclaim you to be possessed of a human heart. But you are a misfit in your sphere. Your place is in our world.

You mean well, but your guild is only a toy. The problem is not to be solved so easily. If you would help solve it, you must give something more than plants. You must give yourself.

And this is the work which calls for your service and sacrifice:—

To bring blossoms and babies together where both can thrive. To restore the child-sense of kinship with Nature, that to every child may come the joy of understanding Nature’s eternal harmonies. To bring the freedom and beauty and companionship of beast and bird, flower and tree, mountain and ocean, stream and star, into the life of every child.

It is a big task, madam; flower shows and ribbons and tears will not fulfil it. If you are serious, you will find more serviceable things to do.

_Some there are, the despised builders of Humanity’s temples, who are laboring to give this vast heritage to the children of all the world. They build patiently, for they have faith in their work._

_And this is their faith—that the power of the world springs from the common labor and strife and conquest of the countless ages of human life and struggle; that not for a few was that labor and that struggle, but for all. And the common labor of the race for the common good and the common joy will give blossoms and babies the fulness of life which sordid greed with its blight makes impossible._

_Are you of the faith of the builders? Are you a builder?_

APPENDIX A HOW FOREIGN MUNICIPALITIES FEED THEIR SCHOOL CHILDREN

The problem of the underfeeding of children and its relation to the many and complex problems of health, education, and morality has long been the subject of careful study and experiment on the part of the most progressive municipalities of several European countries.

At the present time it is one of the most vital issues in English politics. When, in the early eighties, Mr. H. M. Hyndman and his few Social-Democratic colleagues advocated the enactment of legislation compelling the municipal authorities to undertake the feeding of the many thousands of children in the public schools, the proposal was derided as “visionary.” To-day, however, it has the earnest support of some of the ablest and most influential members of the House of Commons. Men like Sir John Gorst, ex-cabinet minister, on the Conservative side, and Mr. Herbert Gladstone, on the Liberal side, are united in the advocacy of the Socialistic proposal.

Inquiries made by a Royal Commission, a Special Inter-Departmental Committee, and several local investigating committees in cities like London, Birmingham, Glasgow, Dundee, and Aberdeen, have revealed a most alarming state of affairs. In London, it has been estimated by the leading authority, Dr. Eichholz, there are over 100,000 children of school age who are chronically underfed. The reports from the other cities named are equally serious. Public sentiment has been aroused to such an extent that there seems to be little room for doubting that in the very near future, Parliament will be compelled to enact some measure providing for the feeding of children in the public schools. In the meantime, many thousands of children are being fed by charitable organizations, working in conjunction with the school authorities. In most cases the meals are sold to the children at one cent per meal, with the understanding that if they are too poor to pay, the meals will be given free of charge. It is astonishing to learn that many thousands of the children are found, after careful investigation, to be too poor to raise even one cent.

The experiment which has for some time been tried in Birmingham has attracted widespread attention in sociological circles, not only in England, but throughout Europe. This charity makes no effort whatever to deal with any but the most destitute children, those that, in the words of the Committee, are “practically starving.” The meals are kept scanty and unattractive in order that no child will accept them unless compelled to by sheer hunger. In addition to this safeguard, careful investigations of the circumstances of the children are from time to time made. The meals are given free of charge to the children, and the cost to the committee is less than one cent per meal,—including the manager’s salary of $500 a year. Yet, despite all the restrictions by which it is surrounded, his charity is to-day feeding 2½ per cent of the total child population of the city.

The results of this feeding, poor and insufficient as it is, have been most beneficial, both from a physical and mental point of view. Educationally, I am informed by experienced teachers, the results have been most inspiring. The children both learn and remember better than before. But it is felt upon all sides, that this charity, admirable as it is in many ways, only touches the fringe of the problem, and the demand is made for definite municipal action, upon a much more generous basis, to take the place of private philanthropy. It is difficult, in fact, practically impossible, to form any idea of the extent of such private philanthropy throughout the country. Almost every industrial centre has its “Free Dinner Association,” and in almost every case the authorities find that private effort is inadequate, and that there are many children who cannot afford to pay even one cent for a meal. If the cent is insisted upon, they must go hungry. This is important to us in America, because it has been the experience wherever similar experiments have been tried here. In Chicago, for instance, at the Oliver Goldsmith School, free dinners have been provided for a large number of children for some time past. Here, as in England, it was found that a number of children could no more afford a penny for a meal than they could afford to dine at the Auditorium Hotel.

In Berlin, and several other German cities, children are fed in the public schools upon a plan which provides that those must pay who can, while those who cannot are given their meals free of charge at the public expense. As a rule, however, these German experiments are confined to schools situated in the poorest districts. As yet, the German authorities have not gone so far as to provide meals for all children, irrespective of their circumstances.

Much the same plan is followed in Reggia Emilia, San Remo, and some other Italian cities, though the movement is more widespread in Italy than in Germany. There is one Italian city, however, which has for some time past gone very much farther than any other city that I know of, though his Excellency, the Italian Ambassador at Washington, informs me that there are other Italian cities which have adopted the same plan. Vercelli is a city of about 25,000 inhabitants in the province of Novara, Piedmont. Its fame chiefly rests upon its fine library, which contains a wonderful collection of ancient manuscripts, some of them of fabulous value. In this little municipality, then, the city fathers have for a long time provided free meals for every child attending the public schools, _and made attendance at the meals absolutely compulsory as to the school itself_! Every child must attend school and partake of the meals, unless provided with a doctor’s certificate to the effect that to attend the classes, or to partake of the school meals, would be injurious to its health. Further, medical inspection is also compulsory, and is accompanied by free medical attendance. The results appear to have been most beneficial physically, and the educational gains resulting from this intelligent, ordered, and regular feeding have been enormous. It is unlikely, however, that such a system will be adopted in the United States for many years to come, notwithstanding its many undoubted advantages.

In Christiania, Trondhjem, and a number of other Norwegian cities, the municipality provides all children who desire to avail themselves of it with a nutritious midday meal, irrespective of their ability to pay. The entire cost of the system is met by taxation. This has been felt by the Norwegian authorities to be the simplest and best method of dealing with a grave problem. It avoids the difficulties which inevitably arise when there is a distinct class of beneficiaries created. “Where all are equally welcome none are paupers,” they say. With its simple, homogeneous population, this direct method is admirably adapted to Norway, however little suited it might be to the needs of a cosmopolitan nation like ours. The free dinner is a part of Norway’s admirable educational system, which abounds with features well worthy of being copied. One of these is an arrangement whereby the school children from the cities are taken, twice a month in winter, and three or four times a month in the summer, on excursions into the country. The children from the country districts are, in the same manner, taken into the cities. The railroads have to carry the children at a purely nominal cost, which is also met out of the public funds.

When I applied to one of the members of the Municipal Council of Trondhjem for information as to the working of the school-meals system, he replied: “You can best judge that, perhaps, from the fact that although the scheme was bitterly opposed when first it was proposed by a small group of radicals and Socialists, it is now unanimously supported by all sections. There is now no demand whatever for its curtailment or abandonment. Educationally, we have found that it pays. It is possible now to educate children who before could not be educated because they were undernourished. The percentage of ‘backward children’ has been greatly reduced, notwithstanding that the test is more severe and searching. Economically, we believe that we can see in the system the gradual conquest of pauperism made possible.”

In Brussels, and other Belgian cities, good midday meals are provided for all children who care to partake of them. A small fee, equal to about two cents, is charged for each meal, but those children who cannot afford to pay are given their meals just the same. There is also an excellent system of medical inspection in connection with the schools. Every child is medically examined at least once every ten days. Its eyes, ears, and general physical condition are overhauled. If it looks weak and puny, they give it doses of cod-liver oil, or some suitable tonic. The greatest care is taken to see that no child goes ill shod, ill clad, or ill fed. There is also a regular dental examination in connection with every school at regular periods.

In several Swiss towns the authorities for a long time granted substantial subsidies to private philanthropic bodies, leaving to them the organization of systems for providing school meals and the whole administration of the funds. But this method proved to be very unsatisfactory. It led to abuses of various kinds, and sectarian jealousies were aroused. Moreover, it proved to be a most extravagant method, the cost being disproportionate to the results. Consequently, the practice has been very generally abandoned, and most of the municipalities have adopted the direct management of the school meals as a distinct part of the school system. The plan generally followed is that of Germany. Those who can must pay, but those who cannot pay must be fed.

But it is to France that we must turn for the most extensive and successful system of school meals. Those who, particularly since the publication of Mr. Robert Hunter’s book, _Poverty_, have advocated the introduction of some system of school dinners in this country, have with practical unanimity pointed to the French _Cantines Scolaires_ as the model to be copied. For that reason, and not less for its own interest, it may be worth while giving a somewhat fuller account of the French system and its history.

The school-canteen idea is a development of an old and interesting custom, borrowed by the French from Switzerland, the little land of so many valuable experiments and ideals. The custom still obtains in Switzerland to some extent, though not so extensively as formerly, of newly married couples giving a small gift of money, immediately after the wedding ceremony, to the school funds as a sort of thanksgiving for their education. These funds are used to provide shoes and clothing for poor scholars who would otherwise be unable to attend school.

In 1849, the time of the Second Republic, the mayor of the second _Arrondissement_ of Paris conceived the idea of introducing this Swiss custom into Paris. Accordingly a fund was created, called the Swiss Benevolent Fund. Before long the name fell into disuse, and we find the _caisse des écoles_, or school funds, spoken of with no reference to their Swiss origin or to their benevolent purpose. In the latter days of the Second Empire, in April, 1867, the Chamber of Deputies passed a Primary Instruction Law, which was drafted by M. Duruy, the Minister of Public Instruction, providing that any municipal council might, subject to the approval of the Prefect, create in the school districts under its jurisdiction a “school fund.” The object of these school funds was to be the encouragement of regular attendance at school, either by a system of rewards to successful students, or material help in the shape of food, clothing, or shoes to necessitous ones. These funds were to be raised by (1) voluntary contributions; (2) subventions by the school authorities, the city, or the state. Where deemed advisable, several school districts might unite in the creation of a joint fund for their common benefit.

But the law of 1867, so far at least as the school funds were concerned, was little more than a pious expression of opinion in favor of an idea. Three years later the Franco-Prussian war broke out with its fury and devastation, and, as war always does, set back all reforms. Not till 1874, three years after the terrible bloodshed of the Paris Commune, was anything done. Then the district of Montmartre and one or two others raised funds. Montmartre is a district of some 200,000 inhabitants, which has always been characterized by a strong radical or socialistic sentiment. From a pamphlet issued by the managers of the school fund in that district, soon after its establishment in 1874, it appears that they paid little attention to the subject of giving prizes, deeming it of more importance to provide good strong shoes and warm clothing for the poorer children. Next, it seems, they undertook to provide outfits for some girls who had won scholarships at the _École Normale_ (Normal School), but were too poor to dress themselves well enough to attend that institution. So, from the very first, the idea of using the school funds to provide children with the necessities of life prevailed. As a result there was soon developed a nucleus of bodies dealing with poverty as it presented itself in the area of educational effort, and, what is equally important, public opinion was being educated and accustomed to the idea. It was, therefore, an easy transition to compulsory provision for the feeding of children. In 1882 a law was passed _compelling_ the establishment of school funds in all parts of France, but leaving the application of such funds still at the discretion of the authorities. So it happens that the _caisse des écoles_ are universal in France, but the _cantines scolaires_ are by no means so. The latter are, however, quite common throughout France, and by no means confined to Paris. There is no official record of the number of districts in which canteens have been established, because the districts are not obliged to make returns showing how their school funds are expended.

Since the state now makes education compulsory, and itself provides the means of enforcing the law, the managers of the school funds do not have to devise schemes to induce a regular attendance at school. They are therefore free to use their funds in such manner as seems to them best calculated to promote the health of the children. This they do mainly by the following means: (1) Free meals, or meals provided at cost; (2) provision of shoes and clothing where necessary; (3) free medical attendance; (4) sending weak, debilitated, and sick children to the sea-side or the country, homes being maintained, or in some cases subsidized for the purpose.