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I 


®    .» 


THE   AMERICAN   JOURNAL 
OF  SOCIOLOGY 


THE    AMERICAN    JOURNAL 

SOCIOLOGY 


EDITOR 

ALBION  W.  SMALL 

associate  editors 
Charles  R.  Henderson         Marion  Talbot 
Frederick  Starr  Charles  Zueblin 

George  E.  Vincent  William  L  Thomas 


Vol.  II 

BI-MONTHLY 

JULY,   1905  — MAY,   1906 


CHICAGO 
Ube  TUniverditi?  ot  Cbicago  press 

1906 


kM 


V.  l\ 


CONTENTS. 


ARTICLES 

PACK 

Boyle,  James   E.     American   Drift  toward   Educational   Unity     -         -         -  830 

Bran  FORD,  V.  V.    Sociology  in  Some  of  its  Educational  Aspects     -         -         -  85 

Science   and    Citizenship     -         -         -         -         - 721 

Buckley,  Edmund.    The  Japanese  as  Peers  of  Western  Peoples     -         -         -  326 

Butler,  Amos  W.    A  Decade  of  Official  Poor-Relief  in  Indiana     -         -         -  763 
Castiglione,  G.  E.  Di  Palma.     Italian  Immigration  into  the  United  States, 

1901-4 -------  183 

Cockerell,  T.  D.  a.     Municipal  Activity  in  Britain     -         -         -         -         -  817 

Collier,  James.     The  Theory   of  Colonization     ------  252 

De  Greef,   G.  Introduction  to   Sociology.     XV     ---__-  60 

XVI ...-_----  219 

XVII -         -         .         -         -         .  409 

XVIII         - _.---.  663 

Ellwood,  Charles  A.     A  Psychological   Study  of  Revolutions     -         -         -  49 

Fleming,  Herbert  K    The  Literary  Interests  of  Chicago.     I  and  II     -         -  377 

III  and      IV     -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -  499 

V       --------------  784 

Galton,    Francis.      Studies    in    Eugenics     -         -         -         -         -         -         -11 

Goldmark,  Josephine  C.    The  Necessary  Sequel  of  Child-Labor  Laws     -         -  312 

Hamon,  a.  and  H.    The  Political  Situation  in  France     -         -         -         -         -  107 

Hayes,  Edward  C.     Sociological  Construction  Lines.     Ill     -         -         -         -  26 

IV  --------------  623 

Henderson,  Charles  R.    Social  Solidarity  in  France     -----  168 

HowERTH,  Ira  W.    The  Civic  Problem  from  a  Sociological  Standpoint     -         -  207 

Lloyd,  Alfred  H.     Ethics  and  its  History     -------  229 

O'Shea,  M.  V.     Notes  on  Education  for  Social  Efficiency     -         -         _         -  646 

Parsons,  Elsie  Clews.     The  Religious  Dedication  of  Women     .         .         -  610 

Reid,   G.   Archdall.      Biological    Foundations   of   Sociology     _         .         -         -  532 

Reinsch,  Paul  S.     The  Negro  Race  and  European  Civilization     -         -         -  145 

Riley,  Thomas  J.     Increased  Use  of   Public-School   Property     -         -         -  655 
RowE,  L.   S.     Relation  of  Municipal   Government  to   American    Democratic 

Ideals ----75 

Sim  MEL,  Georg.     A  Contribution  to  the  Sociology  of  Religion     -         -         -  359 

The  Sociology  of  Secrecy  and  of  Secret  Societies     -----  441 

Small,  Albion  W.    A  Decade  of  Sociology     -------  i 

Smith,  Eugene.     Crime  in  Relation  to  the  State  and  to  Municipalities     -  90 

Sociological  Society,  American,  Organization  of     -----         -  SSS 

Sociological  Society,  American,  Circular  of-         -         -         -         -         -         -681 

Veblen,  Thorstein.     The  Place  of  Science  in  Modern  Civilization     -         -  585 

▼ 


vi  CONTENTS 

Vincent,  George  E.     A  Laboratory  Experiment  in  Journalism     -         -         -     297 
Woodruff,  Clinton  Rogers.    The  Municipal  League  of  Philadelphia     -         -     336 


REVIEWS 


AxENGRY,  Franck.  Condorcet. — A.  and  H.  Hatnon  -----  700 
Baemreither,   J.    M.     Jugendfiirsorge   und    Strafrecht    in    den    Veieinigten 

Staaten    von    Amerika. — C.    R.    Henderson     ------  268 

Barker,  John  M.     The  Saloon   Problem  and   Social  Reform. — C.  R.  H.     -  706 

Blackmar,  Frank  W.     Elements  of  Sociology. — Jerome  Dowd     -         -         -  422 

Bonner,  Robert  J.     Evidence  in  Athenian  Courts. — Clarke  B.   Whittier    -  424 

Bryce,  James.    Marriage  and  Divorce. — C.  R.  H.     -        -         -         -        -        -  707 

Charity  Organization  Society  of  the  City  of  New  York.  Twenty-third  Annual 

Report — C.  R.  H. -         -         -         -  705 

Committee  of  Fifty.     The  Liquor  Problem. — C.  R.  Henderson     -         .         -  578 

CuppY,  Hazlitt  a.  Our  Own  Times,  Vol.  L — A.  W.  Small  -  -  -  428 
Davenport,  Frederick  M.     Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Revivals. — W.  I. 

Thomas  .._-_..-_---  272 
Dealey,  James  Q.,  and  Ward,  Lester  F.     A  Text  Book  of  Sociology. — A. 

W.      Small 266 

Deutsch,  Lio.     Seize  ans  en  Siberie. — A.  and  H.  Hamon     -         -         -         -  701 

Devine,  Edward  T.  Efficiency  and  Relief. — C.  R.  H.  -  -  -  -  -  707 
Dopp,  Katharine  E.     The  Place  of  Industries  in  Elementary  Education. — 

W.  I.   Thomas ------272 

Dunning,  William  A.  A  History  of  Political  Theories. — /.  A.  Loos  -  -  575 
DuPRAT,  G.  L.     L'evolution  religieuse  et  les  legendes  du  Christianisme. — A. 

and    H.    Hamon               -._.---,         __  703 

Durkheim,  Emile.  L'ann6e  sociologique. — A.  IV.  Small  .  -  -  -  133 
Dyre,  G.  W.    Democracy  in  the  South  before  the  Civil  War. — J.  W.  Shepard- 

son           -_-_-___.---.  699 

Ely,   Richard   T.      The   Labor  Movement   in   America. — A.    IV.   S.     -         -  431 

Freund,    Ernst.      The   Police    Power. — L.    S.   Rowe     -----  697 

George,   Henry,  Jr.     The   Menace   of   Privilege. — Scott  E.   W.  Bedford     -  851 

Groppali,  Alessandro.    Elementi  di  Sociologia. — /.  W.  Howenh     -         -         -  135 

Hagar,  Frank   N.     The  American   Family. — C.  R.  Henderson     -         -         -  703 

Henderson,  Charles  R.    Modern  Methods  of  Charity. — Ernest  P.  Bicknell     -  426 

Herzfeld,   Esa  G.     Family   Monographs. — C.  R.  H.     -         -        -        -         -  706 

I M BERT,  Paul.     Les  retraites  des  travailleurs. — A.  and  H.  Hamon     -         -  702 

Jenks,  Albert  E.    The  Bontoc  Igorot. — /.  W.  Thomas 27 

Kelly,  Florence.     Some  Ethical  Gains  through  Legislation. — C.  R.  Hender- 
son          ------_.-.._.  846 

KovEN,  John.     Benevolent  Institutions,    1904. — C.  R.  H.     -         -                  -  704 

L'Office  du  Travail  de  1895  to  1905. — C.  R.  H.     - 705 

Marie,  A.  L'assistance  familiale. — C.  R.  H.  -  -  853 
Martinazzoli,  a.  L.     La  Teorica  dell'  Individualismo  secondo  John  Stuart 

MiU.— /.    IV.    H. -         -135 


CONTENTS  vii 

McKiNLEY,  A.  E.    The  Suffrage  Franchise  in  the  Thirteen  English  Colonies 

in  America. — F.  W.  S.     -        -         -         -        -        -        -        -        -        -  134 

Meyer,   Hugo  R.     Government   Regulation  of   Railway   Rates. — Alfred  von 

der   Leyen       ------- 683 

MiLYOUKOv,  Paul.  Russia  and  its  Crisis.  — Ferdinand  Schwill  .  .  -  579 
Monroe,  Paul.     Source  Book  of  the  History  of   Education  for  the  Greek 

and    Roman    Period. — H.    Heath    Bawden     ------  693 

MuNSTERBERG,  Emil.  Generalhcricht  Uber  die  Tdtigkeit  des  deutschen  Vereins 

fur  Armenpflege  und  Wohltatigkeit,   1880-1905. — C.  R.  H.     -         -         -  706 

NiCEFORO,  Alfredo.     Les  classes  pauvres. — C.  R.  H.     -        -         -         -         -  853 

Page,  Thomas  N.     The  Negro. — Charles  A.  Ellwood    -----  698 

Reed,  William  A.     Negritos  of  Zambales. — W.  I.  Thomas     -         -         -         -  273 

Reinsch,  Paul  S.     Colonial  Administration. — Edwin  E.  Sparks     -         -         -  577 

Ross,  E.  A.    Foundations  of  Sociology. — A.  W.  Small     -         -         -         -         -  129 

Saint  Paul,  G.     Souvenirs  de  Tunisie  et  d'Algerie. — A.  and  H.  Hamon     -  702 

Smith,  William  B.  The  Color  Line. — Charles  A.  Elhvood  -  -  -  -  570 
Strauss,  Paul  et  Fillassier,  Alfred.     Loi  sur  la  protection  de  la  sante 

publique. — C.  R.  Henderson     -         -        -         -         -         -         -         -         -271 

Wallis,  Louis.     Egoism. — A.  W.  Small  and  Charles  R.  Brown     -        -        -  848 

Weininger,  Otto.  Sex  and  Character. — W.  I.  Thomas  .  -  -  -  843 
Wells,  H.  G.     A  Modern  Utopia. — A.   W.  S.     -         -         -        -         -        -430 


RECENT  LITERATURE 

July        -- 136 

September       -_--_--_--_--  274 

November        -_---__------  432 

January  --_-_--__----  580 

March     --------------  708 

May        -         .         -         . 8S4 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS 

July        ....--..._-.-.  130 

September       --.--.......-  277 

November       --.---_.-----  435 

January  .-_--._.-...-  583 

March  ......,-..---  7Pa 

May 857 


THE  AMERICAN 

JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


Volume  XI 


JULY,     1905  Number  I 


A  DECADE  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

EDITORIAL 

The  launching  of  this  Journal,  ten  years  ago,  was  a  leap  in 
the  dark.  The  editors  were  well  aware  that  it  was  a  reckless 
experiment.  Disinterested  observers  in  abundance  at  once  gave 
ample  evidence  of  unfaltering  trust  that  the  rash  venture  would 
soon  meet  the  usual  fate  of  attempts  to  supply  a  non-existent 
demand. 

The  most  serious  pitfall  in  the  path  of  the  enterprise  was 
not  the  absence  of  demand,  but  the  presence  of  an  unintelligent 
and  misguided  demand.  A  very  large  constituency  might  be 
gathered  by  a  journal  that  would  cater  to  popular  interest  in 
air-castle  architecture.  A  large  fraction  of  the  earlier  sub- 
scribers to  this  Journal  were  evidently  of  the  genus  rainbow- 
chaser.  They  wanted  a  spring-board  that  would  land  them  in 
Utopia. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  competent  thinkers  among  whom  a 
journal  of  sociology  should  seek  its  constituency  were  mostly 
preoccupied  with  other  interests.  Many  of  them  were  students 
of  social  problems  from  points  of  view  which  could  not  readily 
adjust  themselves  to  a  change  of  perspective.  Philosophers, 
psychologists,  theologians,  historians,  economists,  political  scien- 
tists, moralists,  reformers,  each  for  his  own  type  of  reason, 
regarded  sociology  very  much  as  physicians  and  surgeons  look  at 
"  Christian  Science." 


2  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

More  significant  than  either  of  these  factors  was  the  situa- 
tion of  sociology  itself,  which  no  one  intimately  interested  had 
the  stoicism  frankly  to  admit.  Sociology  was  in  fact  nothing 
more  than  wistful  advertisement  of  a  hiatus  in  knowledge.  It 
was  a  peering  after  an  eighth  color  in  the  spectrum,  or  a  fourth 
dimension  of  space.  Only  here  and  there  a  perverse  spirit 
betrayed  longings  for  such  unattainables,  and  it  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  the  few  irregulars  could  win  over  responsible 
members  of  society  to  patronage  of  their  vagaries.  Although 
wise  books  had  been  written  in  the  interest  of  sociology,  books 
that  will  be  read  for  many  years  to  come,  the  sad  fact  was  that 
no  sociologist  had  quite  found  himself,  or,  if  he  thought  he  had, 
he  could  not  give  a  convincing  account  of  himself  to  others. 
Sociology  was  a  science  without  a  problem,  a  method,  or  a  mes- 
sage. The  many  confident  prophesyings  in  the  name  of  soci- 
ology, but  conflicting  with  each  other,  served  not  to  mitigate 
the  case,  but  to  aggravate  it.  Our  purpose  is  not  to  describe  the 
differences  that  a  decade  has  wrought  from  the  publisher's 
standpoint,  but  to  indicate  some  evident  changes  in  the  status  of 
sociology  itself. 

In  the  first  place,  the  sociologists  understand  themselves  and 
each  other  much  better  than  they  did  ten  years  ago.  It  would 
be  premature  to  say  that  they  have  come  to  an  agreement  about 
their  problems,  and  their  methods,  if  not  about  their  message. 
There  is  at  least  more  ability  among  them  to  act  on  the  assump- 
tion that  "he  who  is  not  against  us  is  on  our  part."  There  is 
more  readiness  to  admit  that  the  man  who  states  sociological 
problems  in  terms  different  from  those  which  we  prefer  is  still 
promoting  the  same  search  for  knowledge  to  which  we  are  com- 
mitted. There  is  more  keenness  to  welcome  good  work,  and  to 
grant  that  it  fits  into  a  vacant  place,  even  if  it  is  not  the  kind  of 
work  that  we  most  value.  Whether  we  have  a  formula  for  it  or 
not,  we  have  a  more  catholic  instinct  of  the  range  that  socio- 
logical research  must  occupy,  and  we  are  more  ready  to  hail 
as  fellow-laborers  types  of  workers  whose  particular  interests 
and  presumptions  and  methods  vary  widely  from  our  own. 

In  the  second  place,  there  is  not  merely  a  sympathetic  gain, 


A  DECADE  OF  SOCIOLOGY  3 

but  there  has  been  a  marked  increase  in  actual  co-operation.  A 
decade  ago  the  isolation  of  sociologists  from  each  other  was  piti- 
fully amateurish.  Comte,  and  LePlay,  and  Lilienfeld,  and  Spen- 
cer, and  Schaffle,  and  Ward  had  been  first  free-lances,  then  stand- 
ard bearers  of  groups  that  were  more  conscious  of  differences 
than  of  common  interests.  Younger  men  had  meanwhile  caught 
the  scent  and  were  following  more  or  less  independent  trails.  In 
the  retrospect,  in  comparison  with  their  present  attitude,  the 
sociologists  of  ten  years  ago  seem  to  have  been  much  more 
engaged  in  getting  their  own  personal  credentials  accepted  than 
in  coming  into  touch  with  their  peers  for  mutual  support  in 
united  effort.  Meanwhile  each  of  them  has  learned  that  others 
besides  himself  have  promising  clues  and  are  reaching  results. 
They  are  less  ready  to  cry  a  piece  of  work  up  or  down  because  it 
makes  for  or  against  their  own  preconception  of  society.  They 
are  more  ready  to  accept  from  any  source,  for  what  it  is  worth, 
any  sort  of  critical  study  of  social  relations.  The  literature  of 
the  subject,  in  whatever  country  produced,  shows  respectful 
attention  to  more  diflferent  types  of  investigation  than  it  did  ten 
years  ago.  There  have  been  notable  additions  to  our  biblio- 
graphical apparatus.  The  Institut  International  de  Sociologie 
has  been  remarkably  successful  in  promoting  interchange  between 
sociologists  of  different  countries.  The  Sociological  Society  of 
London  is  good  evidence  of  like  progress  within  a  narrower  area; 
and  a  promising  movement  is  on  foot  to  form  a  similar  society  in 
the  United  States. 

In  the  third  place,  there  is  evident  increase  of  the  sociological 
public.  We  cannot  tell  whether  there  is  increase  or  decrease  in 
the  number  of  people  who  use  the  term  "  sociology  "  as  the  name 
for  their  belief  in  an  occult  art  of  compounding  social  cure-alls. 
Not  confusing  any  of  these  with  genuine  students  of  society, 
we  have  no  trouble  in  detecting  an  enlargement  of  the  circle  in 
which  there  is  intelligent  interest  in  the  facts  and  the  laws  of 
social  cause  and  effect.  Ten  years  ago  we  spoke  of  the  present 
as  "  the  era  of  sociology."  ^  We  used  the  phrase  with  the  mean- 
ing that  more  people  than  ever  before  are  thinking  about  their 

^American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  I,  p.  i. 


4  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

situation  as  less  satisfactory  than  it  might  be,  and  trying  to  hit 
upon  means  of  changing  it  for  the  better.  It  would  be  extrava- 
gant to  claim  that  the  words  may  now  be  interpreted  in  a  stricter 
sense.  There  is  not  yet  a  body  of  technical  sociologists  large 
enough  to  give  distinctive  character  to  a  period,  as  the  physical 
scientists  have  to  the  past  century,  and  the  biologists  in  particular 
to  the  last  half-century.  More  people  are  in  evidence,  however, 
than  there  were  ten  years  ago,  who  are  willing  to  consider  social 
relations  in  the  light  of  all  that  can  be  discovered  about  them,  by 
comparison  with  similar  relations  under  all  the  other  circum- 
stances in  which  they  can  be  traced.  More  people  believe  that  it 
is  worth  while  to  pursue  these  large  generalizations,  and  to 
organize  them  into  a  fundamental  social  science. 

It  would  be  easy  to  specify  numerous  particulars  in  which 
there  has  been  approach  toward  consensus  among  the  sociolo- 
gists, but  it  would  be  less  easy  to  prove  that  our  judgment  about 
these  items  is  correct.  Without  taking  the  risk  of  mistaking 
individual  opinion  for  general  consent,  we  merely  observe,  first, 
that  the  number  of  details  passing  into  the  rank  of  accepted 
sociological  results  is  as  great  as  could  fairly  be  expected  so  early 
in  the  history  of  a  science;  and,  second,  it  is  safe  to  predict  that 
a  considerable  body  of  principles  will  have  been  provisionally 
accepted  by  the  sociologists  before  the  close  of  another  decade. 

At  all  events,  there  is  no  doubt  worth  mention  that  the  view- 
point from  which  the  technical  sociologists  observe  social  facts  has 
already  become  essentially  one  and  the  same.  Whatever  their  spe- 
cific hypotheses  in  explanation  of  social  phenomena,  they  all  refer 
the  facts  to  the  same  psychic  forces,  operating  in  the  same  physi- 
cal environment.  They  all  regard  human  experience  as  the  evo- 
lution of  human  choices,  conditioned  by  both  the  controllable  and 
the  uncontrollable  factors  of  physical  nature.  In  other  words, 
the  attitude  of  the  sociologists  toward  their  problems  is  precisely 
that  of  chemist,  or  physicist,  or  physiologist  toward  his.  In 
either  case  the  problem  is  to  discover  the  particular  relations  of 
cause  and  effect  involved  in  a  given  situation.  Of  course,  soci- 
ology is  far  behind  the  older  sciences  in  making  out  the  specific 
causal  relations  to  which  it  is  devoted.     On  the  other  hand,  it 


'       A  DECADE  OF  SOCIOLOGY  5 

is  doubtful  if  the  record  of  any  science  contains  a  decade  of 
more  secure  progress  in  formulating  real  problems,  or  in  clearing 
off  the  methodological  dead-work  that  must  in  every  case  be  out 
of  the  way  before  close  investigation  can  begin. 

It  is  an  open  question  whether  the  progress  of  sociology  is 
not  most  conspicuous  in  evident  changes  of  mind  and  heart 
among  representatives  of  the  older  social  sciences.  Many  scholars 
of  the  first  rank,  who  would  deny  that  they  are  so  poor  as  to  do 
reverence  to  sociology,  have  given  ample  unconscious  proof  that 
they  accept  the  sociological  premises,  without  having  followed 
them  out  to  inevitable  conclusions.  The  social  logic  which  the 
sociologists  have  undertaken  to  discover  has  revealed  itself  to 
such  an  extent  to  many  philosophers,  historians,  and  economists, 
that  their  ways  of  stating  their  own  particular  conclusions  betray 
essential  agreement  with  the  fundamental  position  of  the  sociolo- 
gists. Generalizations  upon  which  the  latter  are  working  directly 
have  impressed  other  scholars  indirectly.  These  are  taking  the 
ideas  for  granted,  usually  without  putting  them  into  definite 
terms,  and  without  recognizing  their  necessary  implications. 
The  sociologists,  on  the  contrary,  are  deliberately  analyzing 
these  ideas,  and  following  out  their  pointings,  to  see  what  they 
mean  in  the  way  of  explaining  concrete  social  conditions. 

It  is  easy  therefore  today,  as  it  would  not  have  been  ten  years 
ago,  to  make  the  ad  hominem  argument  convict  these  scholars 
of  stultifying  themselves,  if  they  do  not  concede  that  their  own 
reasoning  leads  to  the  precise  division  of  labor  which  the  sociolo- 
gists have  undertaken.  In  other  words,  a  decade  ago  the  sociolo- 
gists were  at  best  poachers  in  fields  supposed  to  be  fully  occupied 
by  scholars  of  other  types.  Today  the  function  of  sociologists, 
among  the  scholars  in  those  fields,  is  challenged  only  by  those 
who  have  stopped  short  of  thinking  through  the  process  involved 
in  reaching  complete  knowledge  of  human  relations. 

A  single  change  of  perspective  between  sociology  and  other 
divisons  of  social  science  deserves  specific  mention.  Ten  years 
ago  it  was  assumed  that  there  was  peculiar  rivalry  between 
sociology  and  economics.  Today  the  sociologist  or  the  economist 
who  should  betray  belief  that  the  two  disciplines   are   really 


6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

antagonistic  would  be  classed  as  a  survival.  The  relation  between 
sociology  and  economics  is  not  competitive,  but  complementary, 
and  the  fact  is  now  taken  for  granted  by  scholars  in  both  fields, 
with  exceptions  as  rare  as  they  are  unfortunate.  In  the  end 
there  can  be  but  one  political  economy,  just  as  there  can  be  but 
one  calculus  and  chemistry  and  physiology.  Neither  can  there  be 
at  last  more  than  one  sociology.  Political  economy  can  never 
maintain  a  sociology  peculiar  to  itself,  nor  sociology  a  peculiar 
political  economy.  The  economic  and  the  sociological  problems 
are  not  alternatives,  but  part  and  whole.  If  political  economy 
should  become  a  body  of  formulas  as  unalterable  as  the  multiplica- 
tion table,  it  would  still  be,  like  the  multiplication  table,  an 
abstraction.  If  the  last  word  were  said  about  the  economies  of 
wealth,  it  would  still  be  only  a  single  term  in  the  larger  problem 
of  sociology,  viz. :  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  economies  of 
wealth  in  the  total  economy  of  life?  Within  the  past  decade  this 
relation  has  become  common  knowledge,  and  has  thus  dropped 
out  of  the  list  of  questions  for  debate.  The  men  who  do  not 
know  it  have  simply  not  arrived. 

Meanwhile  the  relation  between  sociology  and  history  has 
come  to  be  a  live  issue.  Broadly  speaking,  the  historians  today 
seem  to  be  of  two  types :  first,  those  who  treat  history  as  science ; 
second,  those  who  cultivate  it  as  an  art.  The  latter  are  merely 
phenomena  to  the  sociologists,  not  colaborers.  Between  the 
former  and  the  sociologists  there  are  mutual  and  interdependent 
interests.  Failure  to  define  and  adjust  these  relations  is  the  most 
obvious  reproach  upon  present  social  science.  The  sociologists 
have  no  more  urgent  task  than  that  of  closing  the  gap  between 
themselves  and  the  scientific  historians. 

By  a  law  of  association  which  need  not  be  justified,  we  would 
gjoup  among  favorable  signs  even  the  testimonies  which  many 
scholars  utter  against  sociology.  There  is  internal  evidence  in 
most  of  these  cases  that  the  objections  are  based  on  insufficient 
knowledge  of  the  sociological  argument.  Much  of  the  deprecia- 
tion of  sociology,  and  opposition  to  it,  is  in  itself  conclusive  proof 
that  there  is  need  of  the  precise  type  of  work  which  the  sociol- 
ogists are  trying  to  do. 


A  DECADE  OF  SOCIOLOGY  7 

One  of  the  most  respected  clergymen  in  the  United  States 
wrote  not  long  ago  in  a  private  letter : 

I  am  free  to  say  that  I  do  not  expect  much  from  sociology.  The  moral 
life  of  man  is  old,  and  one  of  the  greatest  books  upon  the  moral  life  of  man- 
kind is  the  Ethics  of  Aristotle,  written  fifty  years  before  Christ.  Thinkers 
make  a  mistake,  in  my  judgment,  in  supposing  that  because  the  cosmos  is 
new,  and  surprising,  therefore,  in  its  revelations  through  modern  science,  the 
moral  and  spiritual  life  of  mankind  is  new ;  and  that  philosophical  interpreta- 
tions of  that  moral  and  spiritual  life  based  upon  history  and  experience  are 
premature.    I  cannot  agree  to  that  position. 

We  would  condemn  ourselves  neither  by  belittling  Aristotle 
nor  by  admitting  that  explanation  of  human  life  stopped  with 
him.  In  order  to  fall  into  either  error,  one  must  misknow  both 
Aristotle  and  modern  positive  philosophy.  There  is  as  much 
difference  between  Aristotle's  static  version  of  the  world  and 
the  modern  process-conception  as  there  is  between  an  eight-day 
clock  and  the  evolution  of  species. 

The  fact  that  a  profound  and  progressive  thinker  can  write 
the  last  part  of  the  paragraph  we  have  quoted,  under  the  impres- 
sion that  it  impeaches  recent  sociology,  is  the  best  sort  of  index 
that  our  field  is  white  for  the  harvest. 

The  time  is  past  for  wasting  effort  in  arguing  that  the  socio- 
logical point  of  view  must  have  cumulative  influence  upon  every 
division  of  social  science  and  social  art.  So  much  progress  has 
been  made  in  preliminary  survey  of  the  social  process  as  a  whole, 
that  it  will  not  be  much  longer  possible  for  ostensible  explana- 
tion of  any  fraction  of  human  affairs  to  obtain  credit,  unless  that 
fraction  is  accounted  for  as  a  part  of  the  whole  social  process. 
There  is  no  such  reality  as  an  abstraction  in  human  experience. 
Everything,  from  the  most  rarefied  image  in  the  mind  of  a  phi- 
losopher to  the  most  weighty  affair  of  state,  is  merely  a  more 
or  less  complex  mesh  in  a  concrete  fabric  of  human  relations. 
We  are  children  playing  with  blocks,  if  we  suppose  we  can 
account  for  parts  of  life  without  giving  due  credit  to  the  rest 
of  life. 

Reduced  to  its  lowest  terms,  the  argument  of  the  sociologists 
is :    We  have  not  been  thinking  things  through  to  the  end.    We 


8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

are  satisfied  with  cutting  human  experience  up  into  little  chunks, 
that  may  be  seen  and  handled  with  ease.  We  are  uttering  wise- 
sounding  saws  about  these  fragments  of  things,  but  we  are  not 
ferreting  out  the  ultimate  connections  of  things  by  which  they 
are  related  as  wholes.  The  entire  range  of  time  and  space  occu- 
pied by  human  beings  is  a  continuum  filled  with  unbroken  per- 
sistence of  human  interests  toward  satisfaction.  Every  occur- 
rence of  human  life  is  a  function,  of  all  the  social  forces  engaged 
in  this  ceaseless  effort  to  express  themselves.  To  explain  society, 
we  must  be  able  to  state  every  type  of  occurrence  that  takes 
place  in  human  association  in  terms  of  the  ultimate  elements, 
namely,  purpose-reactions  in  the  individuals  that  are  factors  in 
the  occurrences.  Only  here  and  there  a  person  has  discovered 
the  difference  between  this  sort  of  explanation  and  mere  photo- 
graphing of  wide  fields  of  unexplained  events  by  means  of  essen- 
tially descriptive  formulation.  In  other  words,  the  work  of 
causal  explanation  in  the  field  of  social  phenomena  has  just 
reached  the  stage  of  discrimination  between  mere  repetition 
of  the  circumstances  in  a  phrase  or  formula  that  is  explanatory 
in  form,  but  in  essence  only  a  descriptive  generalization  of  the 
things  to  be  explained,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  actual  identifica- 
tion and  measurement  of  the  involved  factors. 

Looking  toward  the  future  it  is  easy  to  distinguish  two  lines 
of  development  which  can  hardly  fail  to  characterize  the  social 
sciences  in  general,  and  especially  those  workers  in  pure  or 
applied  social  science  who  fully  adopt  the  sociological  view- 
point. In  the  first  place,  the  work  of  analyzing  social  processes 
will  encounter  subgroups  of  problems,  upon  which  research  must 
become  more  and  more  specialized  beyond  any  limit  that  can  be 
foreseen.  Sociology  as  pure  science  must  necessarily  repeat  in 
a  way  the  experience  of  biology.  On  the  basis  of  a  fundamental 
conception  of  process,  it  must  differentiate  many  groups  of  prob- 
lems relating  to  particular  processes.^  Probably  the  tradition 
of  applying  the  term  "  science  "  to  work  and  results  in  connection 
with  an  abstracted  group  of  problems,  will  remain  in  force.    As 

*  For  illustrations,  vide  the  papers  of  Professors  Thomas  and  Ross,  in  this 
Journal,  Vol.  X,  pp.  445  and  456. 


A  DECADE  OF  SOCIOLOGY  9 

in  the  case  of  biology  the  generic  name  for  the  organic  sciences 
has  lost  all  specific  content,  while  real  work  in  biology  is  dis- 
tinguished by  one  of  the  many  subtitles,  so  it  will  be  in  sociology. 
We  shall  have  an  increasing  number  of  investigators,  all  con- 
tributing toward  the  ultimate  desideratum  —  knowledge  of  the 
whole  social  process  —  but  each  concentrating  attention  upon 
selected  elements  or  phases  or  types  of  social  processes. 

In  the  second  place,  applied  sociology,  or  "  social  technol- 
ogy," will  progressively  accredit  itself  in  functions  that  have 
relations  to  pure  sociology  closely  analogous  with  those  of  public 
hygiene  to  biology.  The  notion  of  an  ideal  social  condition,  in 
the  statical  sense,  can  never  again  secure  even  quasi-scientific 
endorsement.  Progressive  functional  adaptation  to  conditions 
that  change  in  the  course  of  the  functioning  is  human  destiny. 
The  ultimate  art  of  life  will  be  the  utmost  skill  in  adjusting  con- 
duct to  the  evolving  conditions  of  this  process.  There  will  be 
increasing  work  and  demand  for  men  trained  in  knowledge  of 
social  processes  in  general.  There  will  be  a  vocation  for  them 
in  pointing  out  the  particular  failures  of  adaptation  in  given 
situations,  and  in  showing  how  ascertained  means  of  adjustment 
may  be  employed  to  best  advantage. 

The  type  of  constructive  influence  that  genuine  sociologists 
will  exert  in  the  future  will  not  be  that  of  the  ideologist,  but 
rather,  in  the  expressive  German  phrase,  that  of  a  "helper-of- 
births."  Our  present  means  of  studying  society  will  teach  us 
more  and  more  credible  signs  that  ideas,  feelings,  purposes  are 
in  travail,  and  we  shall  learn  more  and  more  skill  in  removing 
obstacles  that  resist  the  forces  of  life.  The  whole  tendency  of 
sociology,  both  pure  and  applied,  is  to  educate  away  from  irra- 
tional dogmatism  toward  rational  opportunism.  Ten  years  ago 
the  sociologists  were  not  quite  sure  how  to  answer  the  men  who 
would  make  an  end  of  the  whole  matter  with  the  dictum,  "  You 
cannot  change  society."  Today  we  know  that  nothing  can 
arrest  the  incessant  change  which  we  call  society.  Our  problem 
—  the  eternal  human  problem —  is  to  understand  as  much  as 
we  may  of  the  change,  while  we  are  factors  of  it,  and  to  do  our 


10  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

part  toward  turning  the  forces  of  reconstruction  in  the  most 
profitable  directions. 

We  shall  neither  boast  of  the  share  of  this  Journal  in  the 
development  of  sociology  during  the  past  ten  years,  nor  shall  we 
profess  to  believe  that  it  has  been  inconsiderable.  Whatever 
may  be  the  due  appraisal  of  its  past,  the  second  decade  of  its 
work  begins  with  confidence  that  the  sociologists  have  a  mission 
among  the  interpreters  of  life,  and  with  a  renewed  pledge  of 
the  utmost  endeavor  to  promote  their  labors,  and  to  enlarge  the 
circle  of  thinkers  who  will  pay  due  attention  to  their  results. 


STUDIES  IN  EUGENICS  1 


FRANCIS    GALTON,    F.R.S.,  D.C.L.,  SC.D. 
London 


I.     RESTRICTIONS  IN  MARRIAGE 

It  is  proposed  in  the  following  remarks  to  meet  an  objection 
that  has  been  repeatedly  urged  against  the  possible  adoption  of 
any  system  of  eugenics,^  namely,  that  human  nature  would  never 
brook  interference  with  the  freedom  of  marriage. 

In  my  reply  I  shall  proceed  on  the  liot  unreasonable  assump- 
tion that,  when  the  subject  of  eugenics  shall  be  well  understood, 
and  when  its  lofty  objects  shall  have  become  generally  appreci- 
ated, they  will  meet  with  some  recognition  both  from  the  reli- 
gious sense  of  the  people  and  from  its  laws.  The  question  to  be 
considered  is :  How  far  have  marriage  restrictions  proved  effec- 
tive, when  sanctified  by  the  religion  of  the  time,  by  custom,  and 
by  law  ?    I  appeal  from  armchair  criticism  to  historical  facts. 

To  this  end,  a  brief  history  will  be  given  of  a  few  widely 
spread  customs  in  successive  paragraphs.  It  will  be  seen  that, 
with  scant  exceptions,  they  are  based  on  social  expediency,  and 
not  on  natural  instincts.  Each  paragraph  might  have  been 
expanded  into  a  long  chapter,  had  that  seemed  necessary.  Those 
who  desire  to  investigate  the  subject  further  can  easily  do  so  by 
referring  to  standard  works  in  anthropology,  among  the  most 
useful  of  which,  for  the  present  purpose,  are  Frazer's  Golden 
Bough,  Westermarck's  History  of  Marriage,  Huth's  Marriage 
of  Near  Kin,  and  Crawley's  Mystic  Rose. 

I.  Monogamy. —  It  is  impossible  to  label  mankind  by  one 
general  term,  either  as  animals  who  instinctively  take  a  plurality 
of  mates,  or  who  consort  with  only  one ;  for  history  suggests  the 
one  condition  as  often  as  the  other.  Probably  different  races, 
like    different    individuals,   vary  considerably   in   their  natural 

•  Read  before  the  Sociological  Society  of  London. 

*  Eugenics  may  be  defined  as  the  science  which  deals  with  those  social 
agencies  that  influence,  mentally  or  physically,  the  racial  qualities  of  future 
generations. 


12  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

instincts.  Polygamy  may  be  understood  either  as  having  a 
pkirality  of  wives,  or  as  having  one  principal  wife  and  many 
secondary  but  still  legitimate  wives,  or  any  other  recognized 
but  less  legitimate  connections;  in  one  or  other  of  these  forms 
it  is  now  permitted — by  religion,  customs,  and  law  —  to  at 
least  one-half  of  the  population  of  the  world,  though  its  practice 
may  be  restricted  to  a  few,  on  account  of  cost,  domestic  peace, 
and  the  insufficiency  of  females.  Polygamy  holds  its  ground 
firmly  throughout  the  Moslem  world.  It  exists  throughout 
India  and  China  in  modified  forms,  and  it  is  entirely  in  accord 
with  the  sentiments  both  of  men  and  women  in  the  larger  part 
of  negro  Africa.  It  was  regarded  as  a  matter  of  course  in  the 
early  biblical  days.  Jacob's  twelve  children  were  born  of  four 
mothers,  all  living  at  the  same  time,  namely,  Leah  and  her  sister 
Rachel,  and  their  respective  handmaids  Billah  and  Zilpah.  Long 
afterward  the  Jewish  kings  emulated  the  luxurious  habits  of 
neighboring  potentates  and  carried  polygamy  to  an  extreme 
degree.  For  Solomon  see  i  Kings  11:3;  for  his  son  Rehoboam 
see  2  Chron.  11  : 2 1 .  The  history  of  the  subsequent  practice  of 
the  custom  among  the  Jews  is  obscure,  but  the  Talmud  contains 
no  law  against  polygamy.  It  must  have  ceased  in  Judea  by  the 
time  of  the  Christian  era.  It  was  not  then  allowed  in  either 
Greece  or  Rome.  Polygamy  was  unchecked  by  law  in  profligate 
Egypt,  but  a  reactionary  and  ascetic  spirit  existed,  and  some 
celibate  communities  were  formed,  in  the  service  of  Isis,  which 
seem  to  have  exercised  a  large,  though  indirect,  influence  in 
introducing  celibacy  into  the  early  Christian  church.  The  restric- 
tion of  marriage  to  one  living  wife  subsequently  became  the 
religion  and  the  law  of  all  Christian  nations,  though  license  has 
been  widely  tolerated  in  royal  and  other  distinguished  families, 
as  in  those  of  some  of  our  English  kings.  Polygamy  was  openly 
introduced  into  Mormonism  by  Brigham  Young,  who  left  seven- 
teen wives  and  fifty-six  children.  He  died  in  1877;  polygamy 
was  suppressed  soon  after.* 

It  is  unnecessary  for  my  present  purpose  to  go  further  into 
the  voluminous  data  connected  with  these  marriages  in  all  parts 

*  Encyclopadia  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  p.  827. 


STUDIES  IN  EUGENICS  1 3 

of  the  world.  Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  the  prohibition 
of  polygamy,  under  severe  penalties  by  civil  and  ecclesiastical 
law,  has  been  due,  not  to  any  natural  instinct  against  the  practice, 
but  to  consideration  of  social  well-being.  I  conclude  that  equally 
strict  limitations  to  freedom  of  marriage  might,  under  the  pres- 
sure of  worthy  motives,  be  hereafter  enacted  for  eugenic  and 
other  purposes. 

2.  Endogamy. —  Endogamy,  or  the  custom  oi  marrying 
exclusively  within  one's  own  tribe  or  caste,  has  been  sanctioned 
by  religion  and  enforced  by  law,  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  but 
chiefly  in  long-settled  nations  where  there  is  wealth  to  bequeath 
and  where  neighboring  communities  profess  different  creeds. 
The  details  of  this  custom,  and  the  severity  of  its  enforcement, 
have  everywhere  varied  from  century  to  century.  It  was  penal 
for  a  Greek  to  marry  a  barbarian,  for  a  Roman  patrician  to 
marry  a  plebeian,  for  a  Hindu  of  one  caste  to  marry  one  of 
another  caste,  etc.  Similar  restrictions  have  been  enforced  in 
multitudes  of  communities,  even  under  the  penalty  of  death. 

A  very  typical  instance  of  the  power  of  law  over  the  freedom 
of  choice  in  marriage,  and  which  was  by  no  means  confined  to 
Judea,  is  that  known  as  the  Levirate.  It  shows  that  family  prop- 
erty and  honor  were  once  held  by  the  Jews  to  dominate  over 
individual  preferences.  The  Mosaic  law  actually  compelled  a 
man  to  marry  the  widow  of  his  brother,  if  he  left  no  male  issue.^ 
Should  the  brother  refuse,  "then  shall  his  brother's  wife  come 
unto  him  in  the  presence  of  the  elders,  and  loose  his  shoe  from 
off  his  foot,  and  spit  in  his  face;  and  she  shall  answer  and  say, 
.So  shall  it  be  done  unto  the  man  that  doth  not  build  up  his 
brother's  house.  And  his  name  shall  be  called  in  Isralel  the  house 
of  him  that  hath  his  shoe  loosed."  The  form  of  this  custom 
survives  to  the  present  day,  and  is  fully  described  and  illustrated 
under  the  article  "Halizah"  (=  "taking  off,"  "untying")  in 
the  Jewish  Cyclopedia.  Jewish  widows  are  now  almost  invari- 
ably remarried  with  this  ceremony.  They  are,  as  we  might 
describe  it,  "given  away"  by  a  kinsman  of  the  deceased  hus- 
band, who  puts  on  a  shoe  of  an  orthodox  shape  which  is  kept  for 

*  Deut.,  chap.  25. 


14  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  purpose,  the  widow  unties  the  shoe,  spits,  but  now  on  the 
ground,  and  repeats  the  specified  words. 

The  duties  attached  to  family  property  led  to  the  history, 
which  is  very  strange  to  the  ideas  of  the  present  day,  of  Ruth's 
advances  to  Boaz  under  the  advice  of  her  mother.  "  It  came  to 
pass  at  midnight"  that  Boaz  "was  startled*^  and  turned  himself, 
and  behold  a  woman  lay  at  his  feet,"  who  had  come  in  "softly 
and  uncovered  his  feet  and  laid  her  down."  He  told  her  to  lie 
still  until  the  early  morning  and  then  to  go  away.  She  returned 
home  and  told  her  mother,  who  said :  "  Sit  still,  my  daughter, 
until  thou  know  how  the  matter  will  fall,  for  the  man  will  not 
rest  until  he  have  finished  the  thing  this  day."  She  was  right. 
Boaz  took  legal  steps  to  disembarrass  himself  of  the  claims  of  a 
still  nearer  kinsman,  who  "drew  off  his  shoe;"  so  Boaz  married 
Ruth.  Nothing  could  be  purer,  from  the  point  of  view  of  those 
days,  than  the  history  of  Ruth.  The  feelings  of  the  modem 
social  world  would  be  shocked,  if  the  same  thing  were  to  take 
place  now  in  England. 

Evidence  from  the  various  customs  relating  to  endogamy 
show  how  choice  in  marriage  may  be  dictated  by  religious  cus- 
tom, that  is,  by  a  custom  founded  on  a  religious  view  of  family 
property  and  family  descent.  Eugenics  deal  with  what  is  more 
valuable  than  money  or  lands,  namely,  the  heritage  of  a  high 
character,  capable  brains,  fine  physique,  and  vigor;  in  short, 
with  all  that  is  most  desirable  for  a  family  to  possess  as  a  birth- 
right. It  aims  at  the  evolution  and  preservation  of  high  races 
of  men,  and  it  as  well  deserves  to  be  strictly  enforced  as  a  reli- 
gious duty,  as  the  Levirate  law  ever  was. 

3.  Exogamy. —  Exogumy  is,  or  has  been,  as  widely  spread 
as  the  opposed  rule  of  endogamy  just  described.  It  is  the  duty, 
enforced  by  custom,  religion,  and  law,  of  marrying  outside  one's 
own  tribe,  and  is  usually  in  force  among  small  and  barbarous 
communities.  Its  former  distribution  is  attested  by  the  survival, 
in  nearly  all  countries,  of  ceremonies  based  on  "marriage  by 
capture."  The  remarkable  monogfraph  on  this  subject  by  the 
late  Mr.  McLennan  is  of  peculiar  interest.     It  was  one  of  the 

*  See  marginal  note  in  the  Revised  Version. 


STUDIES  IN  EUGENICS  I  5 

earliest,  and  perhaps  the  most  successful,  of  all  attempts  to  deci- 
pher prehistoric  customs  by  means  of  those  now  existing  among 
barbarians,  and  by  the  marks  they  have  left  on  the  traditional 
practices  of  civilized  nations,  including  ourselves.  Before  his 
time  those  customs  were  regarded  as  foolish,  and  fitted  only  for 
antiquarian  trifling.  In  small  fighting  communities  of  barbari- 
ans, daughters  are  a  burden ;  they  are  usually  killed  while  infants, 
so  there  are  few  women  to  be  found  in  a  tribe  who  were  born  in 
it.  It  may  sometimes  happen  that  the  community  has  been 
recently  formed  by  warriors  who  have  brought  no  women,  and 
who,  like  the  Romans  in  the  old  story,  can  supply  themselves  only 
by  capturing  those  of  neighboring  tribes.  The  custom  of  capture 
grows;  it  becomes  glorified  because  each  wife  is  a  living  trophy 
of  the  captor's  heroism;  so  marriage  within  the  tribe  comes  to 
be  considered  an  unmanly,  and  at  last  a  shameful,  act.  The 
modern  instances  of  this  among  barbarians  are  very  numerous. 

4,  Australian  marriages. —  The  following  is  a  brief  clue,  and 
apparently  a  true  one,  to  the  complicated  marriage  restrictions 
among  Australian  bushmen,  which  are  enforced  by  the  penalty 
of  death,  and  which  seem  to  be  partly  endogamous  in  origin  and 
partly  otherwise.  The  example  is  typical  of  those  of  many 
otlier  tribes  that  differ  in  detail, 

A  and  B  are  two  tribal  classes;  i  and  2  are  two  other  and 
independent  divisions  of  the  tribe  (which  are  probably  by 
totems).  Any  person  taken  at  random  is  equally  likely  to  have 
either  letter  or  either  numeral,  and  his  or  her  numeral  and  letter 
are  well  known  to  all  the  community.  Hence  the  members  of 
the  tribe  are  subclassed  into  four  subdivisions:  Ai,  A2,  Bi,  B2. 
The  rule  is  that  a  man  may  marry  those  women  only  whose  letter 
and  numeral  are  both  different  from  his  own.  Thus,  Ai  can 
marry  only  B2,  the  other  three  subdivisions,  Ai,  A2,  and  Bi, 
being  absolutely  barred  to  him.  As  to  the  children,  there  is  a 
difference  of  practice  in  different  parts :  in  the  cases  most  often 
described,  the  child  takes  its  father's  letter  and  its  mother's 
numeral,  which  determines  class  by  paternal  descent.  In  other 
cases  the  arrangement  runs  in  the  contrary  way,  or  by  maternal 
descent. 


1 6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  cogency  of  this  rule  is  due  to  custom,  religion,  and  law, 
and  is  so  strong  that  nearly  all  Australians  would  be  horrified  at 
the  idea  of  breaking  it.  If  anyone  dared  to  do  so,  he  would 
probably  be  clubbed  to  death. 

Here,  then,  is  another  restriction  to  the  freedom  of  marriage 
which  might  with  equal  propriety  have  been  applied  to  the  fur- 
therance of  some  forms  of  eugenics. 

5.  Taboo. —  The  survival  of  young  animals  largely  depends 
on  their  inherent  timidity,  their  keen  sensitiveness  to  warnings 
of  danger  by  their  parents  and  others,  and  their  tenacious  recol- 
lection of  them.  It  is  so  with  human  children,  who  are  easily 
terrified  by  nurses'  tales,  and  thereby  receive  more  or  less  durable 
impressions. 

A  vast  complex  of  motives  can  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  naturally  susceptible  minds  of  children,  and  of  uneducated 
adults  who  are  mentally  little  more  than  big  children.  The  con- 
stituents of  this  complex  are  not  sharply  distinguishable,  but  they 
form  a  recognizable  whole  that  has  not  yet  received  an  appropri- 
ate name,  in  which  religion,  superstition,  custom,  tradition,  law, 
and  authority  all  have  part.  This  group  of  motives  will  for  the 
present  purpose  be  entitled  "  immaterial,"  in  contrast  to  material 
ones.  My  contention  is  that  the  experience  of  all  ages  and  all 
nations  shows  that  the  immaterial  motives  are  frequently  far 
stronger  than  the  material  ones,  the  relative  power  of  the  two 
being  well  illustrated  by  the  tyranny  of  taboo  in  many  instances, 
called  as  it  is  by  different  names  in  different  places.  The  facts 
relating  to  taboo  form  a  voluminous  literature,  the  full  effect  of 
which  cannot  be  conveyed  by  brief  summaries.  It  shows  how, 
in  most  parts  of  the  world,  acts  that  are  apparently  insignificant 
have  been  invested  with  ideal  importance,  and  how  the  doing  of 
this  or  that  has  been  followed  by  outlawry  or  death,  and  how  the 
mere  terror  of  having  unwittingly  broken  a  taboo  may  suffice 
to  kill  the  man  who  broke  it.  If  non-eugenic  unions  were  pro- 
hibited by  such  taboos,  none  would  take  place. 

6.  Prohibited  degrees. —  The  institution  of  marriage,  as  now 
sanctified  by  religion  and  safeguarded  by  law  in  the  more  highly 
civilized  nations,  may  not  be  ideally  perfect,  nor  may  it  be  uni- 


STUDIES  IN  EUGENICS  1 7 

versally  accepted  in  future  times,  but  it  is  the  best  that  has  hith- 
erto been  devised  for  the  parties  primarily  concerned,  for  their 
children,  for  home  life  and  for  society.  The  degrees  of  kinship 
within  which  marriage  is  prohibited  is,  with  one  exception,  quite 
in  accordance  with  modem  sentiment,  the  exception  being  the 
disallowal  of  marriage  with  the  sister  of  a  deceased  wife,  the 
propriety  of  which  is  greatly  disputed  and  need  not  be  discussed 
here.  The  marriage  of  a  brother  and  sister  would  excite  a  feeling 
of  loathing  among  us  that  seems  implanted  by  nature,  but  which, 
further  inquiry  will  show,  has  mainly  arisen  from  tradition  and 
custom. 

We  will  begin  by  giving  due  weight  to  certain  assigned 
motives,  (i)  Indifference,  and  even  repugnance,  between  boys 
and  girls,  irrespectively  of  relationship,  who  have  been  reared 
in  the  same  barbarian  home.  (2)  Close  likeness,  as  between 
the  members  of  a  thoroughbred  stock,  causes  some  sexual  indif- 
ference; thus  highly  bred  dogs  lose  much  of  their  sexual  desire 
for  one  another,  but  will  rush  to  the  arms  of  a  mongrel.  (3) 
Contrast  is  an  element  in  sexual  attraction  which  has  not  yet 
been  discussed  quantitatively.  Great  resemblance  creates  indif- 
ference, and  great  dissimilarity  is  repugnant.  The  maximum  of 
attractiveness  must  lie  somewhere  between  the  two,  at  a  point 
not  yet  ascertained.  (4)  The  harm  due  to  continued  interbreed- 
ing has  been  considered,  as  I  think,  without  sufficient  warrant, 
to  cause  a  presumed  strong  natural  and  instinctive  repugnance 
to  the  marriage  of  near  kin.  The  facts  are  that  close  and  con- 
tinued interbreeding  invariably  does  harm  after  a  few  genera- 
tions, but  that  a  single  cross  with  near  kinsfolk  is  practically 
innocuous.  Of  course,  a  sense  of  repugnance  might  become 
correlated  with  any  harmful  practice,  but  there  is  no  evidence 
that  it  is  repugnance  with  which  interbreeding  is  correlated,  but 
only  indifference,  which  is  equally  effective  in  preventing  it,  but 
quite  another  thing.  (  5 )  The  strongest  reason  of  all  in  civilized 
countries  appears  to  be  the  earnest  desire  not  to  infringe  the 
sanctity  and  freedom  of  the  social  relations  of  a  family  group, 
but  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  instinctive  sexual  repugnance. 
Yet  it  is  through  the  latter  motive  alone,  so  far  as  I  can  judge, 


1 8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

that  we  have  acquired  our  apparently  instinctive  horror  of  marry- 
ing within  near  degrees.- 

Next  as  to  facts.  History  shows  that  the  horror  now  felt  so 
strongly  did  not  exist  in  early  times.  Abraham  married  his 
half-sister  Sarah :  "  she  is  indeed  the  sister,  the  daughter  of  my 
father,  but  not  the  daughter  of  my  mother,  and  she  became  my 
wife."®  Amram,  the  father  of  Moses  and  Aaron,  married  his 
aunt,  his  father's  sister  Jochabed.  The  Egyptians  were  accus- 
tomed to  marry  sisters.  It  is  unnecessary  to  go  earlier  back  in 
Egyptian  history  than  to  the  Ptolemies,  who,  being  a  new 
dynasty,  would  not  have  dared  to  make  the  marriages  they  did  in 
a  conservative  country,  unless  popular  opinion  allowed  it.  Their 
dynasty  includes  the  founder,  Ceraunus,  who  is  not  numbered; 
the  numbering  begins  with  his  son  Soter,  and  goes  on  to  Ptolemy 
XIII,  the  second  husband  of  Cleopatra.  Leaving  out  her  first 
husband,  Ptolemy  XII,  as  he  was  a  mere  boy,  and  taking  in 
Ceraunus,  there  are  thirteen  Ptolemies  to  be  considered.  Between 
them,  they  contracted  eleven  incesttious  marriages,  eight  with 
whole  sisters,  one  with  a  half-sister,  and  two  with  nieces.  Of 
course,  the  object  was  to  keep  the  royal  line  pure,  as  was  done  by 
the  ancient  Peruvians.  It  would  be  tedious  to  follow  out  the 
laws  enforced  at  various  times  and  in  the  various  states  of  Greece 
during  the  classical  ages.  Marriage  was  at  one  time  permitted 
in  Athens  between  half-brothers  and  half-sisters,  and  the  mar- 
riage between  uncle  and  niece  was  thought  commendable  in  the 
time  of  Pericles,  when  it  was  prompted  by  family  considera- 
tions. In  Rome  the  practice  varied  much,  but  there  were  always 
severe  restrictions.  Even  in  its  dissolute  period,  public  opinion 
was  shocked  by  the  marriage  of  Claudius  with  his  niece. 

A  great  deal  more  evidence  could  easily  be  adduced,  but  the 
foregoing  suffices  to  prove  that  there  is  no  instinctive  repugnance 
felt  universally  by  man  to  marriage  within  the  prohibited  degrees, 
but  that  its  present  strength  is  mainly  due  to  what  I  called  imma- 
terial considerations.  It  is  quite  conceivable  that  a  non-eugenic 
marriage  should  hereafter  excite  no  less  loathing  than  that  of 
a  brother  and  sister  would  do  now. 

*  Gen.  20  :  12. 


STUDIES  IN  EUGENICS  1 9 

7.  Celibacy. —  The  dictates  of  religion  in  respect  to  the  oppo- 
site duties  of  leading  celibate  lives,  and  of  continuing  families, 
have  been  contradictory.  In  many  nations  it  is  and  has  been 
considered  a  disgrace  to  bear  no  children,  and  in  other  nations 
celibacy  has  been  raised  to  the  rank  of  a  virtue  of  the  highest 
order.  The  ascetic  character  of  the  African  portion  of  the  early 
Christian  church,  as  already  remarked,  introduced  the  merits  of 
celibate  life  into  its  teaching.  During  the  fifty  or  so  generations 
that  have  elapsed  since  the  establishment  of  Christianity,  the 
nunneries  and  monasteries,  and  the  celibate  lives  of  Catholic 
priests,  have  had  vast  social  effects,  how  far  for  good  and  how 
far  for  evil  need  not  be  discussed  here.  The  point  I  wish  to 
enforce  is  not  only  the  potency  of  the  religious  sense  in  aiding 
or  deterring  marriage,  but  more  especially  the  influence  and 
authority  of  ministers  of  religion  in  enforcing  celibacy.  They 
have  notoriously  used  it  when  aid  has  been  invoked  by  members 
of  the  family  on  grounds  that  are  not  religious  at  all,  but  merely 
of  family  expediency.  Thus,  at  some  times  and  in  some 
Christian  nations,  every  girl  who  did  not  marry  while  still 
young  was  practically  compelled  to  enter  a  nunnery,  from  which 
escape  was  afterward  impossible. 

It  is  easy  to  let  the  imagination  run  wild  on  the  supposition 
of  a  whole-hearted  acceptance  of  eugenics  as  a  national  religion ; 
that  is,  of  the  thorough  conviction  by  a  nation  that  no  worthier 
object  exists  for  man  than  the  improvement  of  his  own  race; 
and  when  efforts  as  great  as  those  by  which  nunneries  and 
monasteries  were  endowed  and  maintained  should  be  directed  to 
fulfil  an  opposite  purpose.  I  will  not  enter  further  into  this. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  history  of  conventual  life  affords 
abundant  evidence,  on  a  very  large  scale,  of  the  power  of  reli- 
gious authority  in  directing  and  withstanding  the  tendencies  of 
human  nature  toward  freedom  in  marriage. 

Conclusion. — Seven  different  subjects  have  now  been  touched 
upon.  They  are  monogamy,  endogamy,  exogamy,  Australian 
marriages,  taboo,  prohibited  degrees,  and  celibacy.  It  has  been 
shown  under  each  of  these  heads  how  powerful  are  the  various 
combinations  of  immaterial   motives   upon  marriage  selection; 


20  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

how  they  may  all  become  hallowed  by  religion,  accepted  as  cus- 
tom, and  enforced  by  law.  Persons  who  are  born  under  their 
various  rules  live  under  them  without  any  objection.  They  are 
unconscious  of  their  restrictions,  as  we  are  unaware  of  the  ten- 
sion of  the  atmosphere.  The  subservience  of  civilized  races  to 
their  several  religious  superstitions,  customs,  authority,  and  the 
rest  is  frequently  as  abject  as  that  of  barbarians.  The  same 
classes  of  motives  that  direct  other  races,  direct  ours;  so  a 
knowledge  of  their  customs  helps  us  to  realize  the  wide  range 
of  what  we  may  ourselves  hereafter  adopt,  for  reasons  as  satis- 
factory to  us  in  those  future  times  as  theirs  are  or  were  to  them 
at  the  time  when  they  prevailed. 

Reference  has  frequently  been  made  to  the  probability  of 
eugenics  hereafter  receiving  the  sanction  of  religion.  It  may 
be  asked:  How  can  it  be  shown  that  eugenics  fall  within  the 
purview  of  our  own?  It  cannot,  any  more  than  the  duty  of 
making  provision  for  the  future  needs  of  oneself  and  family, 
which  is  a  cardinal  feature  of  modern  civilization,  can  be  deduced 
form  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  Religious  precepts,  founded 
on  the  ethics  and  practice  of  olden  days,  require  to  be  reinter- 
preted to  make  them  conform  to  the  needs  of  progressive  nations. 
Ours  are  already  so  far  behind  modem  requirements  that  much 
of  our  practice  and  our  profession  cannot  be  reconciled  without 
illegitimate  casuistry.  It  seems  to  me  that  few  things  are  more 
needed  by  us  in  England  than  a  revision  of  our  religion,  to 
adapt  it  to  the  intelligence  and  needs  of  the  present  time.  A 
form  of  it  is  wanted  that  shall  be  founded  on  reasonable  bases, 
and  enforced  by  reasonable  hopes  and  fears,  and  that  preaches 
honest  morals  in  unambiguous  language,  which  good  men  who 
take  their  part  in  the  work  of  the  world,  and  who  know  the 
dangers  of  sentimentalism,  may  pursue  without  reservation. 

II.    STUDIES  IN  NATIONAL  EUGENICS 

It  was  stated  in  the  Times,  January  26,  1905,  that  at  a 
meeting  of  the  Senate  of  the  University  of  London,  Mr.  Edgar 
Schuster,  M.A.,  of  New  College,  Oxford,  was  appointed  to  the 
Francis   Galton   Research    Fellowship    in    National    Eugenics. 


STUDIES  IN  EUGENICS  21 

"  Mr.  Schuster  will  in  particular  carry  out  investigations  into 
the  history  of  classes  and  families,  and  deliver  lectures  and  pub- 
lish memoirs  on  the  subjects  of  his  investigations." 

Now  that  this  appointment  has  been  made,  it  seems  well  to 
publish  a  suitable  list  of  subjects  for  eugenic  inquiry.  It  will  be 
a  program  that  binds  no  one,  not  even  myself;  for  I  have  not 
yet  had  the  advantage  of  discussing  it  with  others,  and  may 
hereafter  wish  largely  to  revise  and  improve  what  is  now  pro- 
visionally sketched.  The  use  of  this  paper  lies  in  its  giving  a 
general  outline  of  what,  according  to  my  present  view,  requires 
careful  investigation,  of  course  not  all  at  once,  but  step  by  step, 
at  possibly  long  intervals. 

I.  Estimation  of  the  average  quality  of  the  offspring  of 
married  couples ^  from  their  personal  and  ancestral  data. —  This 
includes  questions  of  fertility,  and  the  determination  of  the 
"probable  error"  of  the  estimate  for  individuals,  according  to 
the  data  employed. 

o)  "  Biographical  Index  to  Gifted  Families,"  modern  and  recent,  for 
publication.  It  might  be  drawn  up  on  the  same  principle  as  my  "  Index  to 
Achievements  of  Near  Kinsfolk  of  Some  of  the  Fellows  of  the  Royal 
Society."  ^  The  Index  refers  only  to  facts  creditable  to  the  family,  and  to 
such  of  these  as  have  already  appeared  in  publications,  which  are  quoted  as 
authority  for  the  statements.  Other  biographical  facts  that  may  be  collected 
concerning  these  families  are  to  be  preserved  for  statistical  use  only. 

b)  Biographies  of  capable  families,  that  do  not  rank  as  "  gifted,"  are  to 
be  collected,  and  kept  in  manuscript,  for  statistical  use,  but  with  option  of 
publication. 

c)  Biographies  of  families,  which,  as  a  whole,  are  distinctly  below  the 
average  in  health,  mind,  or  physique,  are  to  be  collected.  These  include  the 
families  of  persons  in  asylums  of  all  kinds,  hospitals,  and  prisons.  To  be 
kept  for  statistical  use  only. 

d)  Parentage  and  progeny  of  representatives  of  each  of  the  social  classes 
of  the  community,  to  determine  how  far  each  class  is  derived  from,  and  con- 
tributes to,  its  own  and  the  other  classes.  This  inquiry  must  be  carefully 
planned  beforehand. 

e)  Insurance-office  data.  An  attempt  to  be  made  to  carry  out  the  sug- 
gestions of  Mr.  Palin  Egerton,*  of  obtaining  material  that  the  authorities 
would  not  object  to  give,  and  whose  discussion  might  be  advantageous  to 
themselves  as  well  as  to  eugenics.  The  matter  is  now  under  consideration, 
so  more  cannot  be  said. 

'  See  Sociological  Papers,  Vol.  I,  p.  85.  •  Ibid.,  p.  62. 


22  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

II.  Effects  of  action  by  the  state  and  by  public  institutions. 

f)  Habitual  criminals.  Public  opinion  is  beginning  to  regard  with  favor 
the  project  of  a  prolonged  segregation  of  habitual  criminals,  for  the  purpose 
of  restricting  their  opportunities  for  (i)  continuing  their  depredations,  and 
(2)  producing  low-class  offspring.  The  inquiries  spoken  of  above  (see  c) 
will  measure  the  importance  of  the  latter  object. 

g)  Feeble-minded.  Aid  given  to  institutions  for  the  feeble-minded  are 
open  to  the  suspicions  that  they  may  eventually  promote  their  marriage  and 
the  production  of  offspring  like  themselves.  Inquiries  are  needed  to  test  the 
truth  of  this  suspicion. 

h)  Grants  toward  higher  education.  Money  spent  in  the  higher  educa- 
tion of  those  who  are  intellectually  unable  to  profit  by  it  lessens  the  sum 
available  for  those  who  can  do  so.  It  might  be  expected  that  aid  systemati- 
cally given  on  a  large  scale  to  the  more  capable  would  have  considerable 
eugenic  effect,  but  the  subject  is  complex  and  needs  investigation. 

»)  Indiscriminate  charity,  including  outdoor  relief.  There  is  good  rea- 
son to  believe  that  the  effects  of  indiscriminate  charity  are  notably  non- 
eugenic.     This  topic  affords  a  wide  field  for  inquiry. 

III.  Other  influences  that  further  or  restrain  particular 
classes  of  marriage. —  The  instances  are  numerous  in  recent 
times  in  which  social  influences  have  restrained  or  furthered 
freedom  of  marriage.  A  judicious  selection  of  these  would  be 
useful,  and  might  be  undertaken  as  time  admits.  I  have  myself 
just  communicated  to  the  Sociological  Society  a  memoir  entitled 
"  Restrictions  in  Marriage,"  in  which  remarkable  instances  are 
given  of  the  dominant  power  of  religion,  law,  and  custom.  This 
will  suggest  the  sort  of  work  now  in  view,  where  less  powerful 
influences  have  produced  statistical  effects  of  appreciable  amount. 

IV.  Heredity. —  The  facts,  after  being  collected,  are  to  be 
discussed,  for  improving  our  knowledge  of  the  laws  both  of 
actuarial  and  of  physiological  heredity,  the  recent  methods  of 
advanced  statistics  being  of  course  used.  It  is  possible  that  a 
study  of  the  effect  on  the  offspring  of  differences  in  the  parental 
qualities  may  prove  important. 

It  is  to  be  considered  whether  a  study  of  Eurasians  —  that 
is,  of  the  descendants  of  Hindoo  and  English  parents  —  might 
not  be  advocated  in  proper  quarters,  both  on  its  own  merits  as  a 
topic  of  national  importance  and  as  a  test  of  the  applicability  of 
the  Mendelian  hypotheses  to  men.   Eurasians  have  by  this  time 


STUDIES  IN  EUGENICS  23 

intermarried  during  three  consecutive  generations  in  sufficient 
numbers  to  yield  trustworthy  results. 

V.  Literature. —  A  vast  amount  of  material  that  bears  on 
eugenics  exists  in  print,  much  of  which  is  valuable  and  should  be 
hunted  out  and  catalogued.  Many  scientific  societies,  medical, 
actuarial,  and  others,  publish  such  material  from  time  to  time. 
The  experiences  of  breeders  of  stock  of  all  kinds,  and  those  of 
horticulturists,  fall  within  this  category. 

VI.  Co-operation. —  After  good  work  shall  have  been  done 
and  become  widely  recognized,  the  influence  of  eugenic  students 
in  stimulating  others  to  contribute  to  their  inquiries  may  become 
powerful.  It  is  too  soon  to  speculate  on  this,  but  every  good 
opportunity  should  be  seized  to  further  co-operation,  as  well  as 
the  knowledge  and  application  of  eugenics. 

VII.  Certificates. —  In  some  future  time,  dependent  on  cir- 
cumstances, I  look  forward  to  a  suitable  authority  issuing  eugenic 
certificates  to  candidates  for  them.  They  would  imply  more  than 
an  average  share  of  the  several  qualities  of  at  least  goodness  of 
constitution,  of  physique,  and  of  mental  capacity.  Examina- 
tions upon  which  such  certificates  might  be  granted  are  already 
carried  on,  but  separately;  some  by  the  medical  advisers  of 
insurance  offices ;  some  by  medical  men  as  to  physical  fitness  for 
the  army,  navy,  and  Indian  services;  and  others  in  the  ordinary 
scholastic  examinations.  Supposing  constitution,  physique,  and 
intellect  to  be  three  independent  variables  (which  they  are  not), 
the  men  who  rank  among  the  upper  third  of  each  group  would 
form  only  one  twenty-seventh  part  of  the  population.  Even 
allowing  largely  for  the  correlation  of  those  qualities,  it  follows 
that  a  moderate  severity  of  selection  in  each  of  a  few  particulars 
would  lead  to  a  severe  all-round  selection.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  pursue  this  further. 

The  above  brief  memorandum  does  not  profess  to  deal  with 
more  than  the  pressing  problems  in  eugenics.  As  that  science 
becomes  better  known,  and  the  bases  on  which  it  rests  are  more 
soundly  established,  new  problems  will  arise,  especially  such  as 
relate  to  its  practical  application.  All  this  must  bide  its  time; 
there  is  no  good  reason  to  anticipate  it  now.     Of  course,  useful 


24  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

suggestions  in  the  present  embryonic  condition  of  eugenic  study 
would  be  timely,  and  might  prove  very  helpful  to  students. 

III.     EUGENICS  AS  A  FACTOR  IN  RELIGION" 

Eugenics  strengthens  the  sense  of  social  duty  in  so  many 
important  particulars  that  the  conclusions  derived  from  its  study 
ought  to  find  a  welcome  home  in  every  tolerant  religion.  It 
promotes  a  far-sighted  philanthropy,  the  acceptance  of  parentage 
as  a  serious  responsibility,  and  a  higher  conception  of  patriotism. 
The  creed  of  eugenics  is  founded  upon  the  idea  of  evolution; 
not  on  a  passive  form  of  it,  but  on  one  that  can  to  some  extent 
direct  its  own  course.  Purely  passive,  or  what  may  be  styled 
mechanical,  evolution  displays  the  awe-inspiring  spectacle  of  a 
vast  eddy  of  organic  turmoil,  originating  we  know  not  how,  and 
traveling  we  know  not  whither.  It  forms  a  continuous  whole 
from  first  to  last,  reaching  backward  beyond  our  earliest  knowl- 
edge, and  stretching  forward  as  far  as  we  think  we  can  foresee. 
But  it  is  molded  by  blind  and  wasteful  processes,  namely  by  an 
extravagant  production  of  raw  material  and  the  ruthless  rejec- 
tion of  all  that  is  superfluous,  through  the  blundering  steps  of 
trial  and  error.  The  condition  at  each  successive  moment  of  this 
huge  system,  as  it  issues  from  the  already  quiet  past  and  is  about 
to  invade  the  still  undisturbed  future,  is  one  of  violent  internal 
commotion.  Its  elements  are  in  constant  flux  and  change,  though 
its  general  form  alters  but  slowly.  In  this  respect  it  resembles 
the  curious  stream  of  cloud  that  sometimes  seems  attached  to  a 
mountain  top  during  the  continuance  of  a  strong  breeze;  its 
constituents  are  always  changing,  though  its  shape  as  a  whole 
hardly  varies.  Evolution  is  in  any  case  a  grand  phantasmagoria, 
but  it  assumes  an  infinitely  more  interesting  aspect  under  the 
knowledge  that  the  intelligent  action  of  the  human  will  is  in 
some  small  measure  capable  of  guiding  its  course.  Man  could 
do  this  largely  so  far  as  the  evolution  of  humanity  is  concerned, 
and  he  has  already  aflfected  the  quality  and  distribution  of  organic 

•  This  section  was  communicated  to  the  Sociological  Society  in  supplement 
to  three  papers,  viz. :  "  Eugenics :  Its  Definition,  Scope,  and  Aims "  {vide 
American  Jaumal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  X,  pp.  1-25),  and  the  first  two  sections  of 
this  article. 


STUDIES  IN  EUGENICS  25 

life  so  widely  that  the  changes  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  merely- 
through  his  disforestings  and  agriculture,  would  be  recognizable 
from  a  distance  as  great  as  that  of  the  moon. 

As  regards  the  practical  side  of  eugenics,  we  need  not  linger 
to  reopen  the  unending  argument  whether  man  possesses  any 
creative  power  of  will  at  all,  or  whether  his  will  is  not  also  pre- 
determined by  blind  forces  or  by  intelligent  agencies  behind  the 
veil,  and  whether  the  belief  that  man  can  act  independently  is 
more  than  a  mere  illusion.  This  matters  little  in  practice,  because 
men,  whether  fatalists  or  not,  work  with  equal  vigor  whenever 
they  perceive  they  have  the  power  to  act  effectively. 

Eugenic  belief  extends  the  function  of  philanthropy  to  future 
generations;  it  renders  its  action  more  pervading  than  hitherto, 
by  dealing  with  families  and  societies  in  their  entirety;  and  it 
enforces  the  importance  of  the  marriage  covenant  by  directing 
serious  attention  to  tlie  probable  quality  of  the  future  offspring. 
It  sternly  forbids  all  forms  of  sentimental  charity  that  are  harm- 
ful to  the  race,  while  it  eagerly  seeks  opportunity  for  acts  of 
personal  kindness  as  some  equivalent  to  the  loss  of  what  it  for- 
bids. It  brings  the  tie  of  kinship  into  prominence,  and  strongly 
encourages  love  and  interest  in  family  and  race.  In  brief, 
eugenics  is  a  virile  creed,  full  of  hopefulness,  and  appealing 
to  many  of  the  noblest  feelings  of  our  nature.^* 

'"  Space  does  not  permit  publication  of  the  comments  upon  Mr.  Galton's 
papers.  A  portion  of  the  discussion  at  the  two  sessions  of  the  Sociological 
Society  devoted  to  them  will  appear  in  the  department  "  Notes  and  Abstracts  "  of 
the  September  number. 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES.     Ill 


PROFESSOR  EDWARD  C.  HAYES,  PH.D. 
Miami  University 


SECTION  V.     SOCIOLOGY  A  STUDY  OF   CAUSAL  RELATIONS 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  a  process  may  be  identified : 
by  its  effects  and  by  its  origin.  The  attempt  to  identify,  by  its 
effects,  a  social  process,  distinct  and  unified,  and  requiring  for 
its  investigation  a  separate  science  of  sociology,  may  fail.  It 
may  lead  to  the  perception  that  the  effects  of  social  processes  are 
the  diverse  phenomena  already  studied  by  the  particular  social 
sciences  of  economics,  politics,  etc.,  and  that  with  reference  to 
effects  there  is  discernible  no  unified  social  process  such  as  to 
require  a  general  science,  either  to  combine  or  to  supplement 
these  particular  sciences.  Even  in  that  case,  as  appeared  in  the 
foregoing  section,  the  extension  of  the  dynamic  concept  to  social 
phenomena,  so  as  to  think  them  in  terms  of  process,  may  have 
far-reaching  effects  upon  our  views  and  explanations  of  such 
phenomena.  And  now  it  is  to  be  added  that,  although  a  unified 
social  process,  requiring  a  general  sociology,  may  not  be  identi- 
fied by  its  unified  results,  we  still  may  seek  to  identify  such  a 
process  by  the  other  method,  that  is,  by  reference  to  its  origin. 
Do  social  activities  arise  in  a  particular  way?  Are  they  due  to 
forms  of  causation  that  should  be  comprehended  apart  from  the 
special  content  of  the  activities  that  emerge  —  forms  of  causa- 
tion that  apply  to  social  activities,  whether  the  content  of  these 
activities  be  political  or  economic,  or  otherwise,  and  that  can  be 
understood  more  adequately  by  a  study  that  is  not  confined  to 
the  field  of  any  of  the  special  social  sciences;  and  is  such  study 
a  proper  office  for  a  general  science  of  sociology? 

The  naive  and  common-sense  way  to  identify  processes  by 
their  origin  is  to  regard  them  as  the  expressions  of  different 
forces.  Thus  people  often  refer  to  physical,  chemical,  and  vital 
forces.     But  we  know  absolutely  nothing  of  any  force  in  and 

26 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  27 

of  itself;  we  perceive  only  the  results  of  force.  We  see  results 
issue  into  the  field  of  our  observation,  as  if  spontaneously;  they 
boil  up  out  of  non-being  into  being.  The  power  from  which  they 
issue  may  be  One,  as  a  single  mighty  vein  of  water  feeds  many 
never-failing  springs.  To  that  subterranean  source  we  cannot 
penetrate;  beneath  the  world  of  being  to  the  world  of  causing 
our  science  cannot  reach.  We  speak  freely  of  causation,  but  of 
original  causation  we  are  absolutely  ignorant. 

It  is  not  uncommon  to  suppose  that  there  is  only  one  kind  of 
original  force;  that  all  purely  mechanical  effects  can  be  traced  to 
a  single  power,  the  operation  of  which  we  recognize  in  gravity 
and  every  form  of  attraction  and  repulsion;  and  not  only  that 
all  mechanical  effects  are  operations  of  that  single  power,  but 
also  that  chemistry,  if  fully  understood,  would  be  seen  to  be 
only  a  subtler  mechanics;  and  that  life  itself,  when  thoroughly 
comprehended,  would  prove  to  be  a  yet  subtler  and  more  intricate 
combination  of  chemical  and  mechanical  processes.  If  all  this 
were  proved,  it  would  not  disturb  the  biologist,  the  chemist,  or 
the  physicist,  nor  cause  anyone  to  doubt  that  there  is  a  special 
sphere  for  each  of  these  sciences.  This  view  seems  rather  to 
give  aid  and  comfort  to  promoters  of  these  special  sciences.  If 
there  is  but  one  originating  power  that  continuously  causes  all 
phenomena,  then  explanation  may  go  a  step  farther  in  the  same 
direction  and  add  that  whenever  the  manifestations  of  the  One 
Power,  which  we  have  named  physical,  chemical,  and  vital, 
enter  into  certain  further  combinations,  there  issue  those  other 
manifestations  that  we  call  conscious,  psychic;  and  that  creation 
proceeds  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  stages  without  ever 
the  addition  of  a  new  force  that  had  not  been  operative  at  the 
lowest  levels ;  but  rather  that  out  of  combinations  of  the  simplest 
emerge  the  more  complex,  and  out  of  the  lower  the  highest; 
phenomena  thus  rising  nearer  to  the  level  of  their  source,  and 
disclosing  yet  more  of  the  potentiality  inherent  in  all  existence. 
Then  it  would  remain  to  add  that  a  combination  of  phenomena 
of  all  these  kinds  —  the  physical,  chemical,  physiological,  and 
psychic  —  issues  in  the  most  highly  modified  stream  of  mani- 
festations, which  we  name  social. 


28  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Whether  this  conception  is  ever  proved  or  not,  the  case  at 
present  is  that,  although  we  speak  freely  of  causation,  of  original 
causation,  we  know  nothing,  and  what  we  call  causes  are  only 
occasions.  Particular  combinations  of  phenomena  furnish  the 
occasions  for  the  causal  Power  resident  in  nature  to  manifest 
particular  results.  When  different  streams  of  phenomena  issuing 
from  the  source  of  being  meet,  the  current  of  manifestations 
consequent  upon  their  union  is  often  different  from  either  of  the 
confluents.  Each  "higher"  process  appears  as  a  more  complex 
resultant  of  such  unions  of  simpler  processes.  And,  so  far  as 
we  can  see,  the  primordial  processes  of  nature  are  continuous 
manifestations  of  power  which,  with  their  countless  combina- 
tions and  recombinations,  make  up  the  vast  diversity  of  the 
phenomenal  world.  That  which  we  call  the  study  of  causes, 
which  is  the  soul  of  science,  is  observation  of  the  changes  that 
ensue  when  phenomena  have  met.  Phenomena  that  meet,  and 
from  the  union  of  which  other  phenomena  emerge,  are  what  we 
call  "causes."  They  are  not  forces,  but  conditions  —  conditions 
of  change  in  the  manifestations  that  arise  from  the  operations 
of  the  force  already  present  in  the  phenomena  that  combine.  The 
combining  phenomena  may  be  uninteresting,  and  our  interest 
and  attention  first  be  fixed  by  the  resultant.  When  we  seek  to 
explain  the  resultant  process,  we  do  so  by  discovery  of  those 
conditions  which  we  name  "causes,"  although  to  identify  them 
contributes  no  knowledge  of  the  original  causation  of  the  inter- 
esting phenomenon  which  we  have  thus,  as  we  say,  "  explained." 
The  study  of  causes  that  is  possible  to  science  is  observation  of 
the  phenomena  that  unite  to  form  the  conditions  of  new  phe- 
nomena. When  again  and  again  we  have  observed  phenomena 
of  a  certain  kind,  arising  in  the  presence  of  certain  conditions, 
we  affirm  that  these  conditions  contain  the  causes  of  such  phe- 
nomena. To  know  that  phenomena  of  the  kind  thus  explained 
have  been  observed  countless  times  to  arise  in  presence  of  these 
conditions,  and  never  in  the  absence  of  any  of  them,  that  the 
phenomena  have  varied  as  these  conditions  have  varied,  and  dis- 
appeared with  the  disappearance  of  each  of  these  conditions, 
when  all  the  others  were  present,  is  to  have  established  the  scien- 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  29 

tific  conclusion  that  these  conditions  are  the  "causes"  of  such 
phenomena. 

Description  and  explanation,  so  far  as  explanation  is  possible 
to  science,  are  essentially  alike  as  well  as  essentially  different. 
Each  consists  in  thinking  phenomena  together  in  relations  in 
which  they  exist  together.  The  difference  between  explana- 
tion and  other  description  is  that  in  mere  description  we  may 
think  together  whatever  may  be  observed  together,  and  share 
our  interest  together;  while  in  explaining  a  thing  we  think 
it  together  with  certain  other  things,  namely,  such  things  as 
are  alleged  as  causes.  All  our  knowledge  consists  in  think- 
ing phenomena  together  in  the  relations  in  which  they  exist 
together.  This  is  true  of  the  whole  range  of  understand- 
ing, from  sense-perception  to  philosophy.  The  isolated  sense- 
impression  is  meaningless.  The  splotch  of  variegated  light 
falling  on  the  newborn  baby's  eye  has  no  meaning  for  his  mind. 
That  light  may  be  reflected  from  the  vine  that  clambers  past 
the  window,  but  not  a  leaf  upon  the  vine  can  be  perceived  until 
the  present  sensation  is  put  together  with  a  variety  of  other 
present  or  remembered  sensations  that  combine  to  give  the  notion 
"leaf  out  there."  Our  knowledge  of  a  phenomenon  extends  as 
we  think  more  phenomena  together  with  it;  as  they  exist  or 
have  existed  together  with  it;  as  we  know  more  about  it.  The 
advancement  of  knowledge  consists  a  little  in  seeing  more  things, 
and  a  great  deal  in  becoming  aware  of  more  relations  between 
things  —  relations  of  time,  relations  of  space,  and  especially  the 
relations  which  we  name  causal. 

A  child  in  a  museum,  looking  at  a  chipped  flint  or  a  bit  of 
corroded  bronze,  sees  as  much  of  the  things  as  the  paleontolo- 
gist, but  he  knows  less  about  them,  because  the  vision  of  these 
things  does  not  conjure  up  in  his  mind  the  ideas  of  other  things 
which  are  known  or  believed  to  have  been  related  to  every  object 
of  the  class  represented  by  the  ancient  arrow-head  or  sword. 
There  are  three  phases  of  knowledge.  The  first  and  most 
elementary  is  seeing  things,  present  results,  static  phenomena; 
the  two  other  and  higher  phases  are  the  observation  of  changes, 
differences,  and  resemblances  till,  first,  we  can  think  of  the  resem- 


30  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

blances,  differences  and  changes  together  with  their  conditions  in 
the  relations  that  we  call  causal ;  and,  second,  until  we  are  aware 
of  the  tug  and  trend  toward  change  that  is  present  in  even  the 
seemingly  inert  object,  that  maintains  its  static  equilibrium,  and 
that  again  and  again  bursts  into  change,  and  is  always  ready  and 
waiting  for  its  occasion  —  the  streaming  of  phenomena,  the 
dynamic  essence  of  being. 

If  we  know  nothing  of  forces  in  and  of  themselves,  and 
therefore  nothing  of  original  causation,  so  that  we  cannot  char- 
acterize different  processes  by  declaring  them  to  be  tlie  expres- 
sions of  separate  and  distinct  forces,  how  then  can  we  identify 
processes  on  the  side  of  their  origin?  A  review  of  the  scientific 
meaning  of  causation  has  helped  us  to  this  answer:  A  distinct 
process  is  the  function  of  a  distinct  set  of  conditions.  We  may 
give  the  name  "process  "  to  any  stable  continuation  of  a  phenome- 
non, or  to  the  maintenance  of  phenomena  of  a  given  class.  We  do 
more  obviously  and  universally  give  the  name  "process"  to 
any  temporal  succession  of  phenomena  that  are  sufficiently  con- 
nected with  each  other  and  sufficiently  discrete  from  other  phe- 
nomena. Such  a  continuation  or  succession,  however  discrete 
and  different  from  other  processes,  does  not  imply  a  peculiar  kind 
of  force  as  its  cause,  but  it  does  imply  a  peculiar  combination 
of  conditions  from  which  it  arises.  Where  there  is  a  special 
kind  of  stream  of  results  issuing  from  a  special  confluence  of 
conditions,  there  may  be  sought  the  task  of  a  special  science,  if 
the  results  are  sufficiently  numerous  and  interesting  to  invite 
study,  and  the  conditions  sufficiently  obscure  and  intricate  to 
require  it.  Thus,  for  example,  the  physiological  results  which 
the  biologist  investigates,  and  which  we  call  the  process  of  life, 
while  they  do  not  necessarily  involve  the  presence  of  any  force  that 
is  not  present  in  physical  and  chemical  phenomena,  nevertheless 
do  arise  out  of  a  peculiarly  obscure  and  intricate  combination  of 
physical  and  chemical  conditions;  and  it  is  the  issuance  of  this 
particular  kind  of  process,  from  its  particular  set  of  conditions, 
which  forms  the  object  of  the  biologist's  attention.  And  such  is 
the  task  of  each  one  of  the  established  physical  sciences.  A 
special  kind  of  phenomena,  issuing  from  its  special  concurrence 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  3 1 

of  conditions,  is  the  largest  justification  there  can  be  for  any- 
such  science. 

The  kind  of  phenomena  that  arise  in  society  do  not  arise 
except  in  society.  Society  affords  a  pecuHar  set  of  conditions 
that  distinguish  the  social  process.  And  while  the  issuing  phe- 
nomena, besides  being  numerous  and  interesting,  are  so  different 
among  themselves  as  to  be  subdivided  among  a  number  of  special 
sciences,  yet  the  intricate  causal  complex  from  which  they  issue 
is,  in  an  important  sense,  common  to  them  all.  The  view  just  set 
forth  of  what  constitutes  the  task  of  a  science  seems  to  make 
possible  the  following  solution  of  our  present  problem  :  Explana- 
tion is  thinking  together,  and  society  is  the  togetherness  that 
must  be  thought,  in  order  to  explain  the  phenomena  which  we 
call  social.  This  thinking  society  together  is  not  the  exclusive 
business  of  any  of  the  separate  social  sciences,  for  society  includes 
forms  of  causal  relations  that  are  not  peculiar  to  any  of  the 
particular  social  sciences.  These  forms  of  causal  relations  are 
independent  of  the  differences  of  content  which  characterize  the 
activities  that  emerge  from  them.  They  are  equally  effective 
with  respect  to  religious,  ethical,  economic,  or  political  activities, 
etc.  Therefore  they  do  not  belong  to  either  of  the  special  social 
sciences  that  correspond  to  these  particular  kinds  of  activities, 
and  if  the  investigation  of  these  causal  relations  can  be  elevated 
into  a  science,  then  it  must  be  a  general  sociology  underlying  all 
of  the  special  social  sciences,  as  mathematics  underlies  the  special 
physical  sciences;  or,  at  any  rate,  it  must  constitute  a  portion 
or  phase  of  the  work  of  general  sociology. 

Among  the  general  forms  of  social  causation  which  have  been 
recognized  are  suggestion  and  imitation;  "consciousness  of 
kind;"  coincidence,  opposition,  and  reciprocity  of  interests; 
superiority  and  subordination,  and  other  forms  of  relations,  not 
only  with  associates,  but  also  relations  of  associates  to  a  common 
physical  environment. 

Some  writers  call  "  imitation "  a  process.  But  the  essential 
significance  of  imitation  for  sociology  does  not  appear  until  imita- 
tion is  seen  to  be  a  relation  between  activities  to  be  explained  and 
similar  occasioning  activities.    It  is  not  so  fundamentally  viewed 


32  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

as  a  kind  of  action,  since  any  kind  of  action,  from  saying 
"  Mamma "  to  building  a  ship,  is  imitation,  provided  it  is  occa- 
sioned by  this  particular  type  of  relation  to  an  antecedent 
similar  action.  The  fact  that  all  these  heterogeneous  forms  of 
social  activity  are  spoken  of  as  instances  of  the  "process  of 
imitation"  is  an  illustration  of  the  fact  that  actions  the  most 
heterogeneous  in  outcome  may  have  an  intrinsic  similarity  on 
the  side  of  origin,  and  with  respect  to  origin  are  unified  into  a 
single  class.  The  word  "  association  "  itself,  if  it  is  a  name  of 
activity,  is  a  name  for  all  kinds  of  activity,  however  diverse, 
which,  after  all,  are  unified  by  virtue  of  this  peculiar  relationship 
of  occasioning  or  being  occasioned  by  the  activities  of  associates. 
It  is  its  origin  in  this  peculiar  conditioning  that  all  social  activity 
has  in  common.  With  reference  to  this  mutually  occ^tsioning 
relationship  association  is  unified  and  distinct  from  all  other 
phenomena. 

Even  on  the  side  of  their  outcome,  the  social  activities,  differ- 
ent as  they  are  from  each  other,  are  also  different  from  all 
other  phenomena,  and  thus  set  apart  from  all  other  phenomena 
as  one  general  class  by  themselves;  while  on  the  side  of  their 
origin  they  are  seen  to  be  the  offspring  of  types  of  occasioning 
relations  that  are  common  to  them  all.  At  first,  and  so  long  as 
attention  is  mainly  fixed  upon  their  practical  outcome,  the  greater 
methodological  advantage  may  be  secured  by  emphasizing  their 
differences  and  analyzing  the  study  of  association  into  economics, 
politics,  ethics,  etc.  But  when  we  pass  on  to  the  deeper  genetic 
task,  the  task  of  investigating  their  rise,  and  the  methods  by 
which  they  are  occasioned,  it  may  appear  that  the  same  types 
of  rise  and  of  occasioning  are  common  to  them  all;  that  on  the 
side  of  origins  the  social  activities  constitute  one  unified  field  of 
research ;  and  that  methodological  advantage  is  secured  by  recog- 
nizing that  society  constitutes  one  complex  of  causal  condi- 
tions, and  that  the  same  forms  and  methods  of  causation  are 
effective  throughout  the  whole  range  of  social  phenomena. 
Indeed,  though  it  may  be  impossible  to  identify  by  its  outcome 
any  general  social  process  distinguished  from  the  processes  to 
be  investigated  by  special  social  sciences,  already  considerable 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  33 

achievements  appear  to  have  been  made  by  studying  the  origina- 
tion of  these  various  social  processes  in  the  general  forms  of 
social  causation  which  are  common  to  them  all. 

Professor  Georg  Simmel  defines  sociology  as  a  study  of  the 
forms  of  social  relations.  This  definition  has  seemed  particularly 
barren,  uninteresting,  unpromising,  and  capable  of  eliciting  pro- 
tracted toil  only  from  one  who  is  willing  to  devote  himself  to 
intellectual  gymnastics,  and  it  is  somewhat  startling  to  have 
emerged  from  this  discussion  at  a  point  so  close  to  his  position. 
But  substitute  the  more  particular  concept  "  forms  of  occcp- 
sioning  relations  in  society"  for  the  more  general  "forms  of 
social  relation,"  and  the  appearance  of  academic  barrenness  is 
removed  from  this  definition  of  what  seems  to  be  at  least  a  part 
of  the  task  of  general  sociology.  In  the  view  of  Simmel,  the 
sociologist's  object  of  study  includes  nothing  else  than  the  general 
forms  of  relationship  which  apply  to  all  association,  whatever  its 
purpose,  whether  economic,  ecclesiastical,  political,  or  otherwise, 
to  a  nation,  a  school,  or  a  family.  He  not  only  holds  that  the 
abstract  forms  of  relationship  constitute  the  whole  of  the  sociolo- 
gist's field  of  study,  but  adds  that  these  forms  are  all  varieties  of 
one  most  general  form  of  relationship,  that  of  "  superiority  and 
subordination." 

The  conception  of  Professor  Simmel  has  been  accepted  by 
sociologists  as  meaning  mere  morphological  description.  But 
the  conception  here  proposed  is  causal  explanation,  recognizing 
both  the  resemblance  and  the  difference  between  explanation  and 
mere  description,  and  the  truth  that  the  only  explanation  possible 
to  science  is  identification  of  causal  relationships. 

A  study  of  the  mere  forms  of  social  causation  may  never  yield 
a  quantitative  explanation  of  any  social  phenomenon.  Apparently 
that  must  be  left  to  the  special  sciences  that  study  the  social 
processes  with  reference  to  their  content.  But  it  may  hope  to 
furnish  these  sciences  with  a  list  and  description  of  the*  various 
forms  or  kinds  of  social  causation,  so  that  each  can  be  recognized 
when  it  is  present,  and  missed  when  it  is  absent;  and,  indeed,  it 
may  even  hope  to  furnish  social  practice  with  knowledge  of  the 
conditions  which  must  be  promoted  or  combated.     Too  much 


34  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

currency  has  been  given  to  the  notion  that  there  is  nothing 
deserving  the  name  of  science  without  accurate  quantitative 
knowledge.  Quantitative  knowledge  is  by  no  means  always 
present  where  there  is  science  that  is  both  intellectually  enlighten- 
ing and  practically  applicable.  It  is  something  to  know  that  a 
given  kind  of  disease  is  caused  by  a  given  kind  of  microbe,  and 
that  a  given  treatment  will  destroy  the  microbe.  Sociology  is 
a  science  of  life.  And  while  neither  biology  nor  sociology  ignores 
or  despairs  of  quantitative  results  in  some  connections,  a  science 
of  life  is  already  a  science  when  it  is  discovering  the  nature  and 
method  of  causation,  the  forms  and  kinds  of  conditioning  that 
promote  phenomena  of  given  kinds. 

Sociology  is  a  study  of  social  activities,  and  the  conditions  of 
the  origin,  continuance,  and  change  of  social  activities.  The  high- 
est results  of  such  study,  as  well  as  the  most  important  aids  to  fur- 
ther advance,  are  not  knowledge  of  particular  instances  of  change, 
nor  the  particular  conditions  of  such  particular  changes,  but 
knowledge  of  the  types  of  change  and^  forms  of  causation.  This 
is  for  sociology  what  the  knowledge  of  "natural  laws"  is  to 
physical  science.  Types  of  change  in  social  activity,  and  espe- 
cially forms  of  occasion  or  causation  out  of  which  social  activi- 
ties and  their  changes  emerge,  are  not  peculiar  to  economic  or 
political  activity,  nor  any  other  activities  that  form  the  object  of 
explanation  of  a  special  social  science.  They  belong  to  the  social 
process  as  a  whole,  of  which  political,  economic,  and  ethical  phe- 
nomena, etc.,  are  particular  manifestations.  And,  in  so  far  as 
this  is  true,  investigation  of  the  elicitation  and  change  of  social 
activities  is  a  comparative  study  in  which  each  form  of  elicitation 
must  be  observed  wherever  it  occurs,  not  alone  in  the  field  of  any 
one  special  social  science,  but  throughout  the  whole  range  of 
social  activity.  If  this  is  true,  the  necessity  of  a  general  social 
science  appears  to  be  demonstrated  on  the  side  of  methodological 
theory,  and  only  requires  to  be  emphasized  and  illustrated  by  the 
results  of  research  in  this  wide  field  and  by  this  broadly  compara- 
tive method.  The  results  already  achieved  are  quite  sufficient 
to  encourage  further  devotion  to  this  field  and  method.  The  full 
importance  of  such  results  can  appear  only  when  they  are  taken 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  35 

up  by  the  students  of  particular  social  sciences  and  applied  in 
the  solution  of  their  special  problems.  The  logical  order  of 
progress  must  be,  first,  the  observation  of  particulars  in  many- 
fields;  second,  the  discovery  of  modes  of  activity,  types  of 
change,  and  forms  of  elicitation;  and,  third,  the  explanation  of 
special  phenomena.  Progress  of  the  three  kinds  will  go  on 
simultaneously. 

I  have  not  hastened  to  this  conclusion,  but  in  the  previous 
section,  when  this  conclusion  was  so  near,  it  was  postponed,  to 
allow  full  admission  of  the  fact  that  much  of  the  importance  of 
the  dynamic  concept  of  society  can  be  worked  out  in  the  special 
social  sciences,  and  that,  indispensably  important  as  is  the  exten- 
sion to  social  phenomena  of  the  concept  of  universal  process  in 
its  application,  not  only  to  change,  but  also  to  continuity  of  phe- 
nomena, yet  the  method  of  sociology  is  not  revealed  in  that  con- 
cept, and  has  not  been  discovered  until  a  view  of  what  constitutes 
scientific  explanation  has  been  applied  to  the  explanation  of  social 
activities,  and  we  have  recognized  as  the  final  objects  of  socio- 
logical research  the  forms  of  relationship  in  which  social  activities 
find  their  characteristic  conditions  of  rise,  continuance,  and 
change.  Diversified  as  are  the  social  phenomena,  and  undesirable 
as  it  is  to  confuse  the  fields  of  existing  social  sciences,  and  impos- 
sible as  it  may  be  to  regard  the  social  process,  viewed  only  from 
the  side  of  its  results,  as  affording  the  appropriate  field  for  a  gen- 
eral science  of  sociology ;  still,  so  long  as  the  laws  of  social  causa- 
tion, or,  as  they  may  better  be  called,  the  modes  of  activity,  types 
of  change,  and  forms  of  elicitation,  are  general  to  the  social 
process,  and  not  peculiar  to  the  phenomena  of  the  special  social 
sciences,  the  investigation  of  social  causation  calls  for  a  science 
that  brings  the  whole  range  of  social  activity  and  its  eliciting 
within  one  horizon  and  perspective. 

At  this  point  it  is  opportune  to  reiterate,  in  conspectus,  three 
salient  features  of  the  view  thus  far  set  forth. 

First :  Society  is  associates  associating.  Associating  cer- 
tainly includes  every  kind  of  action  that  is  not  merely  physical, 
or  biological,  but  distinctly  human  and  conscious ;  that  is,  elicited 
by  conditioning  relations  with  associates,  and  that  becomes  overt 


36  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

and  momentously  prevalent  in  its  similar  repetitions,  such  as 
social  valuations,  institutions,  customs,  etc.  This  associating, 
apprehension  of  which  makes  the  word  "society"  appear  to  be 
"virtually  a  verbal  noun,"  is  the  "social  process"  in  the  most 
important  and  fundamental  sense  of  that  phrase;  and  the  vari- 
eties, modes,  or  classes  of  activity  that  become  thus  socially 
momentous  are  the  social  "processes"  or  subdivisions  of  the 
"process."  The  social  phenomena  are  processes  in  the  sense  of 
activities ;  this  is  their  nature  and  essence,  not  alone  when  they  are 
undergoing  change  and  transformation,  but  also  when  most 
established  and  unchanging. 

Second:  With  changing  conditions  these  activities  change, 
and  —  what  is  of  main  importance — there  are  general  types  of 
change  in  social  activities.  These  may  be  referred  to  as  social 
processes,  although  the  more  specific  phrase  "types  of  social 
change  "  contributes  more  to  clearness  and  accuracy.  These  types 
of  change  are  general  in  that  they  apply  to  the  different  varieties 
of  social  activity;  for  example,  the  most  diverse  social  activities 
may  become  either  more  or  less  prevalent,  more  or  less  similar  in 
their  individual  repetitions,  more  or  less  imposing  and  effective 
as  conditions  affecting  other  activities,  etc.  To  identify  and 
describe  these  types  of  change  is  a  second  phase  of  the  task  of 
sociology. 

Third :  Explanation  consists  in  describing  the  conditions  of 
a  phenomenon  with  recognition  of  their  comparative  importance 
as  determinants  of  the  phenomenon  explained;  and  there  are 
recurrent  forms  of  conditioning  which  are  effective  in  eliciting 
the  different  varieties  of  social  activity,  and  which  correspond  to 
the  types  of  social  change.  These  forms  of  conditioning  are 
separable  into  four  groups,  to  be  enumerated  later.  Moreover, 
conditions  are  both  phenomena  and  relations,  and  relations  are 
as  real  as  things,  and  as  necessary  to  describe.  And  among  the 
conditions  of  any  given  social  activities  are  other  social  phe- 
nomena, and  the  direct  products  of  social  activities ;  these  interest 
the  sociologist  both  as  conditions  of  social  phenomena  and  as 
themselves  social  phenomena  to  be  explained  in  their  turn,  while 
non-social  phenomena,  such  as  climate,  etc.,  interest  him  as  con- 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  37 

ditions  of  the  phenomena  which  he  seeks  to  explain,  but  their 
own  explanation  is  left  to  the  antecedent  sciences. 

Among  sociologists  there  has  been  too  little  criticism  and 
assimilation  of  each  other's  work.  In  general,  each  has  spun 
away  in  his  own  corner,  but  little  disturbed  by  other  spiders  in 
other  comers.  Discussion  is  necessary  to  the  development  of 
an  authoritative  and  consistent  body  of  doctrine.  Therefore  one 
may  venture  to  refer,  in  this  connection,  to  the  work  of  one  of 
the  most  eminent  writers  upon  sociology.  Some  time  after  the 
original  presentation  of  the  foregoing  sections,  which  treat  of  the 
social  process,  Professor  Edward  Alsworth  Ross  contributed  to 
the  American  Journal  of  Sociology'^  an  article,  which  recently  has 
been  reprinted,^  the  thesis  of  which  is  that  the  chief  objects  of 
sociological  investigation  are  processes.  Professor  Ross  does  not 
state  either  of  the  three  views  just  summarized.  He  does  not 
hold  that  the  social  phenomena  —  whether  permanent  or  chang- 
ing—  are  in  essence  activities,  but  instead  he  regards  "groups, 
relations,  institutions,  imperatives,  uniformities,"  the  "  products  " 
of  the  "actions  and  interactions"  of  men,  as  the  phenomena 
which  sociology  is  to  explain,  and  turns  to  processes  only  as  the 
means  of  explaining  them. 

From  our  point  of  view,  the  five  "products"  which  he  enu- 
merates do  not  all  belong  to  the  one  category  of  products.  "  Insti- 
tutions and  imperatives"  are  activities,  and  "uniformities"  are 
similar  activities.  All  these  belong  to  the  social  processes,  but 
groups  and  relations  do  not.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  groups 
and  relations,  for  the  chief  meaning  of  "group"  is  a  set  of 
established  relations.  "  Groups  and  relations,"  in  so  far  as  they 
are  incidents  or  "products"  of  the  social  activities,  admit  of 
sociological  explanation;  but  their  explanation  is  only  a  step  in 
the  explanation  of  the  activities  which  such  relations  condition, 
and  which  are  the  ultimate  objects  of  sociological  explanation. 

Since  Professor  Ross  does  not  identify  the  ultimate  objects  of 
sociological  explanation  as  processes,  but  turns  to  processes  only 
as  the  means  of  explaining  "products,"  the  word  "process"  is 
used  by  him  to  designate  whatever  is  necessary  to  explain 
products.    Our  discussion  of  what  constitutes  scientific  explana- 

*  September,   1903.  *  E.  A.  Ross,  Foundations  of  Sociology. 


38  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tion  led  to  the  conclusion  that  "  conditions  "  and  not  "  processes  " 
is  the  word  to  use  for  this  purpose,  since  explanation  is  not  the 
search  for  a  special  force  or  process,  but  for  special  conditions 
out  of  which  special  phenomena  emerge,  and  the  changes  of 
which  are  accompanied  by  changes  in  the  phenomena  emerging. 

The  successive  changes  in  social  phenomena  we  called  social 
processes  in  a  secondary  sense.  But  tracing  a  succession  of 
changes  down  to  its  latest  manifestation  is  not  explanation,  but 
rather  an  important  preliminary  to  explanation;  it  is  more  fully 
stating  the  problem,  and  each  succeeding  change  is  a  part  of  the 
problem  to  be  explained  by  reference  to  the  changing  conditions. 

His  use  of  the  word  "  processes  "  as  a  name  for  whatever  is 
necessary  to  explain  "products,"  leads  Professor  Ross  to  set 
down  a  heterogeneous  list  under  the  head  of  "  processes,"  omitting 
from  it  the  social  activities,  or  social  processes  in  the  primary 
sense,  as  defined  above,  and  tabulating  a  variety  of  other  things. 
First  in  his  list  stands  "  assimilation  "  by  "  environment,  educa- 
tion, occupation,  mode  of  life,  and  dialectic  of  personal  growth." 
All  these  he  surprisingly  designates  as  "preliminary"  processes, 
and  those  following  as  "  social."  For  example,  biological  multi- 
plication is  a  "  social  "  process,  but  "  assimilation  by  environment, 
education,  occupation,  and  mode  of  life"  are  "preliminary." 
Biological  multiplication  of  one  race  may  furnish  all  the  simi- 
larity that  is  the  necessary  preliminary  of  association,  and  "  assim- 
ilation by  environment,  education,  occupation,  and  made  of 
life"  is  preliminary  in  the  same  sense  that  everything  down  to 
yesterday  is  preliminary  to  what  follows,  for  which  it  prepared 
the  way.  Assimilation,  according  to  our  system,  is  a  type  of 
social  change.  Common  occupation,  etc.,  are  forms  of  condition- 
ing relations.  Common  "  environment "  and  "  education  "  are  too 
complex  ideas  to  be  made  co-ordinate  with  the  other  items  in  this 
list.  His  next  group,  and  the  first  of  the  "social  processes,"  is 
"multiplication,  congregation,  and  conjugation."  This  is 
getting  together  a  population,  and  we  should  say  supplies  con- 
ditions for  the  social  process.  It  is  the  setting  up  of  groupings 
and  relations,  the  changing  of  conditions  that  affect  the  social 
process. 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  39 

The  next  group  in  his  hst  is  "communication,  fascination, 
and  intimidation.  And  he  appropriates  the  word  "association" 
as  a  generic  name  for  the  three.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  let  the 
three  stand  together  as  related,  if  necessary  without  a  common 
name,  rather  than  to  assign  this  limited  meaning  to  the  word 
"  association  ?  " 

The  confusion  or  great  overlapping  of  divisions  in  a  tabula- 
tion, though  it  is  much  less  serious  than  absence  of  clear  ruling 
concepts  as  basis  for  classification,  is  nevertheless  commonly 
regarded  as  so  serious  a  defect  that  it  is  fitting  to  raise  a  query 
with  reference  to  placing,  as  co-ordinates  in  the  same  ilst,  "  com- 
munication "  and  "  intercourse ;  "  "  fascination  "  and  "  immita- 
tion;  "assimilation"  and  "amalgamation;"  "multiplication, 
congregation,  conjugation,"  and,  later,  "  increase  of  numbers." 

Imitation,  as  shown  above,  is  not  the  name  of  a  distinct 
process,  but  of  a  form  of  conditioning  relation.  The  like  is  true 
of  "  fascination,"  as  well  as  of  "  division  of  labor,"  "  organiza- 
tion," "subordination,"  etc.  On  p.  91  "exposure  to  similar 
external  influences,  such  as  climate,"  is  given  as  a  select  example 
of  a  social  process! 

Without  further  specification,  does  it  not  appear  that  Profes- 
sor Ross  has  used  the  phrase  "social  process"  merely  as  a  con- 
venient heading  and  symbol,  without  formulating  any  distinct 
concept  of  what  constitutes  the  (or  a)  social  process;  and  has 
tabulated  social  processes  under  the  head  of  "products,"  while 
under  the  head  of  "social  processes"  he  has  tabulated  a  long 
list  of  heterogeneous  and  non-co-ordinate  entries,  some  of  which 
are  varieties  of  activity,  some  types  of  social  change,  some  forms 
of  conditioning  relations,  and  others  changes  in  conditioning 
relations  ?  The  entries  tabulated  under  the  heading  "  processes  " 
divide,  not  far  from  equally,  into  these  four  sorts. 

Changes  in  conditions  with  which,  as  we  have  put  it,  changes 
in  social  activities  (processes)  are  to  be  correlated,  and  by  which 
such  changes  are  to  be  explained,  are  of  great  importance.  And 
these  changes  in  conditions  affecting  social  phenomena  can  be 
thought  together  as  a  distinct  concept.  It  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  a  distinct  concept  underlying  the  formation  of  this  list, 


40  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

since  only  one-fourth  of  the  entries,  scattered  through  the  list, 
can  be  brought  under  this  head.  Such  changes  might  be  called 
social  processes  of  the  third  degree.  Then,  if  it  were  wise  to  con- 
fuse that  phrase  so  far,  we  should  have  named  social  activities, 
as  such,  the  "  social  process  of  the  first  degree ;  "  changes  in  social 
activities,  "  social  processes  of  the  second  degree ; "  and  changes 
in  conditions  affecting  social  activities,  "  social  processes  of  the 
third  degree."  It  appears  simpler  to  refer  to  the  last  as  changes 
in  conditions. 

The  main  substance  of  what  is  now  suggested  is  that  there 
seems  to  be  reason  for  thinking  that  the  absence  of  the  three 
points  of  view  above  formulated  may  be  the  absence  of  principles 
for  classifying  the  aspects  of  reality  which  are  sociologically  im- 
portant, while  by  aid  of  those  points  of  view  the  sociologically 
important  aspects  of  reality  can  be  simply  and  consistently  classi- 
fied, as  forms  of  social  activity,  types  of  social  change,  and  forms 
of  conditioning  relations,  together  with  the  significant  changes  in 
conditioning  relations. 

SECTION  VI.     SOCIAL  PHENOMENA   ARE   PSYCHIC 

All  phenomena  of  consciousness  are  activities.  Those  which 
are  called  "  passive,"  are  so  called  only  in  contrast  with  volition 
and  because  they  do  not  connect  directly  with  overt  deeds ;  in 
them  the  activity  remains  subjective,  and  is  not  immediately 
observable  to  onlookers.  Even  emotion,  and  each  so-called 
"passive"  experience,  is  a  state  of  subjective  activity. 

Social  phenomena  are  activities,  whether  they  be  "deeds" 
or  "  experiences."  The  phenomena  of  human  society  are  human 
activities  —  activities  that  go  on  in  the  consciousness  of  men. 
That  amounts  to  saying  that  social  phenomena  are  psychic  phe- 
nomena. The  social  process  is  a  complex  of  psychic  activities. 
Social  causation  is  the  eliciting  of  psychic  activities,  and  the 
most  efficient  causes  of  these  phenomena  are  expressions  of  the 
psychic  activities  of  associates.  A  society,  in  the  high  and 
important  sense  of  that  word,  is  a  group  of  persons  who  carry 
on  related  psychic  activities  because  they  are  all  exposed  to  simi- 
lar solicitations  to  activity,  each  member  of  the  group  finding 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  4 1 

among  the  solicitations  to  activity  that  most  affect  him,  the  activi- 
ties evinced  by  the  other  members  of  his  group.  In  other  words, 
they  are  a  society  because  their  activities  are  elicited  by  a  similar 
environment,  and  especially  because  the  psychic  activities  of  the 
group  constitute  the  most  important  part  of  the  environment  of 
every  member  of  the  group. 

There  is  a  sense  in  which  the  words  "subjective"  and 
"  psychic  "  are  synomymous,  for  all  psychic  phenomena  are  for 
someone  subjective.  But  in  another  sense,  which  is  quite  as 
accurate,  there  are  for  me  no  subjective  phenomena  but  my  own 
experiences,  my  own  psychic  activities ;  and  those  of  every  other 
man,  if  I  know  them  at  all,  are  to  rrie  objective.  Nothing  is 
subjective  to  me  but  that  which  I  know  directly  in  my  own  con- 
sciousness; everything  of  which  I  become  aware  indirectly,  by 
the  intervention  of  the  senses,  is  objective.  The  thoughts,  deeds, 
and  sentiments  of  others,  in  so  far  as  I  become  aware  of  them, 
are  then  objective  facts.  My  own  patriotism  is  a  subjective 
fact,  but  the  patriotism  of  the  other  eighty  million  Americans 
cannot  be,  to  me,  a  subjective  fact;  the  patriotism  of  eighty 
million  people  cannot  be  a  subjective  fact  to  any  one:  it  is  a 
psychic  fact,  but  it  is  an  objective  fact.  It  is  a  part  of  the  objec- 
tive psychic  world  into  which  the  American  child  is  born  —  a 
vast  objective  fact  as  real  and  pervasive  as  the  climate. 

Society  is  the  objective  psychic  world;  sociology  is  the 
explanation  of  the  objective  psychic  world.  In  the  physical 
world,  some  facts,  like  climate,  are  of  great  extent,  and  others 
are  narrowly  local,  like  the  hillside  on  which  one  was  bom. 
Physical  science  in  the  person  of  the  meteorologist  tries  to 
explain  our  climate,  and  in  the  person  of  the  geologist  it  tries  to 
explain  hillsides.  Likewise,  in  the  objective  psychic,  or  social, 
world  some  facts  are  of  great  extent,  like  patriotism,  language, 
and  religion;  while  others  pertain  to  limited  and  local  groups, 
like  particular  families  and  schools,  each  of  which  may  have  a 
character  of  its  own,  just  as  each  hill  and  valley  and  lake  has  a 
character  of  its  own;  and  social  science  tries  to  explain  the 
being  and  becoming,  both  of  the  great  and  singular  social  facts, 
and  of  those  that  are  local  and  multiple. 


42  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Both  the  vast  pervasive  social  facts,  and  those  that  are  local 
and  personal,  are  psychic  phenomena.  When  your  friend  is 
speaking  to  you,  the  objective  social  fact  is  not  the  noise  he 
makes,  but  the  thoughts  that  are  passing  in  his  mind,  of  which 
you  become  aware  while  listening  to  his  voice,  and  to  which 
your  own  thoughts  respond.  If  he  smiles,  the  objective  social 
fact  is  not  the  wrinkling  of  his  face,  but  the  love  and  cheer  which 
you  read  in  his  smile.  Voice  and  smile  may  be  necessary  to 
enable  us  to  perceive  the  objective  social  facts,  as  the  ether  is 
necessary  to  enable  us  to  perceive  the  stars,  and  as  some  medium 
is  required  to  enable  us  to  see  or  to  hear  anything  in  our 
material  environment.  The  social  environment  is  made  up  of 
the  objective  psychic  facts,  and  the  physical  signs  are  the  media 
that  enable  us  to  become  aware  of  our  psychic  environment.  To 
perceive  the  very  actions  of  the  neurons  in  the  cortex  of  your 
friend,  without  becoming  aware  of  the  conscious  experience  that 
accompanies  the  neuroses,  would  apprise  you  of  no  social  fact; 
for  the  social  fact  is  not  the  sign  which  is  physical,  but  the 
thing  signified,  which  is  psychic. 

It  is  persons  that  are  associates,  and  personal  acts  —  that  is, 
psychic  acts:  thoughts,  feelings,  and  conscious  deeds  —  that  are 
the  social  phenomena.  The  presence  of  other  individuals,  which 
is  the  social  condition,  is  their  psychic  presence ;  and  this  by  no 
means  always  requires  their  bodily  presence.  It  is  necessary  only 
that  they  be  present  to  the  mind,  in  order  to  inspire  us  with  love, 
hate,  envy,  emulation,  ambition;  the  physical  signs  of  their 
psychic  activities  may  be  totally  absent,  or  may  come  to  us 
across  oceans  of  space  and  centuries  of  time. 

The  great  pervasive  social  facts  are  as  essentially  and  com- 
pletely psychic  as  are  the  facts  of  individual  association.  A 
great  ideal  that  modifies  the  character  and  activities  of  a  people, 
like  the  prevalent  notion  of  the  smart,  successful  man,  or  like 
our  forefathers'  ideal  of  liberty,  is  a  purely  psychic  reality,  but 
it  may  be  as  objective  and  imposing  as  a  range  of  mountains, 
and  ten  times  more  causally  significant  of  social  consequences. 
The  vast  objective  social  facts  are  exemplifications  of  the  social 
process  in  both  the  uses  of  that  phrase.    They  exemplify  one  of 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  43 

its  meanings  in  that  they  are  evolved  through  the  process  of  social 
change  and  causation.  Such  an  ideal  has  a  social  history,  and 
that  not  alone  after  it  has  spread  from  man  to  man,  and  become 
the  characteristic  of  a  group,  and  embodied  in  those  settled  and 
approved  methods  of  practice  which  we  denominate  institutions, 
but  also  it  may  be  that  even  when  it  first  looms  up  in  the  mind 
of  the  individual  prophet  or  seer,  it  is  already  in  an  important 
sense  a  social  product.  That  experience  of  the  prophet  would 
have  been  impossible  but  for  a  long  process  of  social  causation. 
How  clearly  this  is  true  will  appear  somewhat  in  a  later  con- 
nection. The  great  pervasive  social  facts  exemplify  the  "social 
process  "  also  in  the  profounder  meaning  of  that  phrase,  since 
.they  exist  in  the  sentiments,  judgments,  and  deeds,  that  is,  in 
the  psychic  activities  of  men. 

We  sometimes  speak  of  certain  buildings  as  "institutions;" 
and  the  usage  may  convey  a  certain  meaning  accurately  enough 
for  colloquial  speech.  But  in  the  sense  in  which  the  sociologist 
employs  the  term,  an  institution  is  no  more  a  thing  of  brick  and 
mortar  than  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  a  thing  of  ink  and 
paper.  If  our  county  courthouse  should  be  burned  down,  would 
the  institution  of  the  courts  be  destroyed  from  our  midst?  No; 
it  would  still  be  here  ready  to  rebuild  the  edifice.  Where  would  it 
be?  In  the  minds  of  the  people.  Similarly,  the  institution  of 
the  public  schools  is  a  conviction  and  a  sentiment  and  a  plan  of 
action,  including  the  readiness  to  use  a  hundred  and  fifty  millions 
of  dollars  a  year  in  ways  approved  for  ends  desired. 

Not  only  institutions,  ideals,  moral  standards,  popular  judg- 
ments and  beliefs  are  psychic  phenomena,  which  stand  forth  as 
commanding  features  of  the  objective  psychic  world,  but  also 
subtler  phases  of  psychic  activity  may  become  pervasive  and 
continental  in  extent.  Similarity  of  sentiments  and  motives  may 
characterize  a  population,  and  emotional  dispositions,  which  are 
due,  not  to  ethnic  temperament  alone,  but  to  other  causes  also, 
since  they  pervade  mixed  populations,  and,  moreover,  prevail 
for  a  period  among  a  given  people  and  then  disappear  and  are 
replaced.  Whole  peoples  may  be  said  to  have  their  moods,  their 
periods  of  exaltation  and  of  depression,  of  courage  and  of  dis- 


44  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

couragement,  their  backslidings  and  regenerations.  An  age  of 
Pericles,  an  Elizabethan  era,  or  the  triumphant  optimism  of 
America,  reveals  the  presence  of  such  pervasive  psychic  phe- 
nomena, the  rise  of  which  the  sociologist  may  investigate,  and  the 
conditions  of  which  he  may  seek  to  point  out. 

Prevalent  modes  of  psychic  activity,  whether  they  charac- 
terize periods  or  groups,  or  an  element  diffused  through  various 
populations,  present  sociological  problems.  Why  is  it  that  John 
Jones,  the  English  farmer,  hitches  his  horse  to  a  cart  so  clumsy 
that  it  is  a  man's  lift  to  raise  the  shafts,  and  the  empty  wain  is 
half  a  load,  packs  in  his  load  of  dressing  as  carefully  as  if  he 
were  going  to  haul  it  around  the  world,  and,  having  reached  the 
field,  does  not  dump  it,  but  forks  it  out  again,  so  that  two  to  four 
loads  a  day  is  the  limit  of  his  speed;  while  Tom  Jones,  his 
brother,  who  emigrated  to  America,  visiting  at  the  old  English 
home,  watches  John's  waste  of  time  and  energy  with  nervous 
pain;  for  Tom  in  Kansas  cuts  his  grain  with  a  fourteen-foot 
cutter  bar  and  reaps  a  hundred  acres  in  a  day?  Why  is  it  that 
the  bricklayer  in  London  lays  seven  hundred  bricks  a  day,  and  the 
bricklayer  in  Chicago  lays  two  thousand?  Why  is  it  that  the 
baggage-smasher  on  the  station  platform  in  Boston  tells  the 
anxious  passenger,  who  has  failed  to  get  his  trunk  onto  the  Fall 
River  boat  train,  that  there  is  no  need  to  be  troubled,  as  there  is 
a  later  train,  and  the  baggage-handler  knows  the  exact  hour  and 
minute  of  its  departure,  and  that  at  a  certain  minute  in  the  night 
the  train  will  reach  a  point  where  the  Fall  River  boat  stops,  and 
that  the  steamer  reaches  the  point  enough  later  than  the  train  so 
that  the  passenger  and  his  baggage  can  connect  with  the  steamer 
there?  Now,  this  baggage-smasher  may  have  immigrated  from 
Germany  a  few  years  before,  and  whoever  heard  of  a  German 
porter  knowing  anything  about  connections  ?  The  American  bag- 
gage man  knows  the  details  of  the  business  that  come  within  the 
range  of  his  observation,  as  if  he  expected  sometime  to  be  general 
superintendent.  Moreover,  he  will  act  upon  his  information  with- 
out orders,  or  even  against  orders,  if  he  is  sure  there  is  sufficient 
reason,  somewhat  as  if  he  were  already  general  superintendent. 

Professor  Miinsterberg,  in  his  book  The  Americans,  avers 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  4  5 

that  the  activities  of  the  people  he  describes  present  a  distinct 
psychological  type;  that  a  characteristic  mode  of  action  deter- 
mines alike  their  economic,  political,  and  cultural  activities;  and 
that  this  mode  of  action  is  the  offspring  of  prevailing  ethical 
ideas  which  have  been  occasioned  by  the  past  and  present  con- 
ditions of  American  social  development.  These  ideals,  he  says, 
are  self -direction,  self-initiation,  self-perfection.  Of  our  political 
activities  he  writes : 

Such  is  the  America  which  receives  the  immigrant  and  so  thoroughly 
transforms  him  that  the  demand  for  self-determination  becomes  the  pro- 
foundest  passion  of  his  soul.     Such  is  the  America  toward  which  he  feels  a 

proud  and  earnest   patriotism A   nation  which   in   every   decade  has 

assimilated  millions  of  aliens,  and  whose  historic  past  everywhere  leads  back 
to  strange  peoples,  cannot,  with  its  racial  variegation,  inspire  a  profound 
feeling  of  indissoluble  unity.  And  yet  that  feeling  is  present  here,  as  it  is 
perhaps  in  no  European  country.  American  patriotism  is  directed  neither  to 
soil  nor  to  citizen,  but  to  a  system  of  ideas  respecting  society,  which  is  com- 
pacted by  the  desire  for  self-direction.  And  to  be  an  American  means  to  be 
a  partisan  of  this  system.  Neither  race  nor  tradition,  nor  yet  the  actual  past, 
binds  him  to  his  countrjmian,  but  rather  the  future  which  together  they  are 
building.     It  is  a  community  of  purpose,  and  it  is  more  effective  than  any 

tradition  because  it  pervades  the  whole  man To  be  an  American  means 

to  co-operate  in  perpetuating  the  spirit  of  self-direction  throughout  the  body 
politic;  and  whoever  does  not  feel  this  duty  and  actively  respond  to  it, 
although  perhaps  a  naturalized  citizen  of  the  land,  remains  an  alien  forever. 

If  this  be  true,  the  American  differs  from  other  peoples,  not  in 
that  the  social  life  is  any  more  psychic  than  elsewhere,  but  that 
it  is  compounded  of  certain  ideals  and  hopes  rather  than  of  vener- 
able traditions.  Of  our  teeming  economic  activity  Professor 
Miinsterberg  writes: 

The  colossal  industrial  successes,  along  with  the  great  evils  and  dangers 
which  have  come  with  them,  must  be  understood  from  the  make-up  of  the 

(acquired)   American  character When  a  short  time  ago  there  was  a 

terrific  crash  in  the  New  York  stock  market,  and  hundreds  of  millions  were 
lost,  a  leading  Parisian  paper  said :  "  If  such  a  financial  crisis  had  happened 
here  in  France,  we  should  have  had  panics,  catastrophies,  a  slump  in  rentes, 
suicides,  street  riots,  a  ministerial  crisis  all  in  one  day;  while  America  is 
perfectly  quiet,  and  the  victims  of  the  battle  are  sitting  down  to  collect  their 
wits.  France  and  the  United  States  are  obviously  two  entirely  different 
worlds  in  their  civilization  and  in  their  way  of  thinking." 


46  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Such  statements  are  the  more  significant  in  the  light  of  the 
fact,  fully  recognized  by  Professor  Miinsterberg,  that  America 
makes  Americans  out  of  Frenchmen,  and  of  other  diverse  races; 
not  perhaps  Americans  of  identical  traits,  but  yet  men  who  con- 
form with  all  their  might  to  the  American  modes  of  activity. 

Lafcadio  Heam,  in  his  "  Interpretation  "  of  Japan,  tells  us  that 
the  Japanese  habits  of  thought,  feeling,  and  action  are  so  differ- 
ent from  ours  that  after  years  of  residence  there  he  "cannot 
claim  to  know  much  about  Japan;"  and  adds: 

The  best  and  dearest  Japanese  friend  I  ever  had  said  to  me  a  little  before 
his  death :  "  When  you  find  in  four  or  five  years  more  that  you  cannot  under- 
stand the  Japanese  at  all,  then  you  will  begin  to  know  something  about  them." 
After  having  realized  the  truth  of  my  friend's  prediction  —  and  having  dis- 
covered that  I  cannot  understand  the  Japanese  at  all  —  I  feel  better  qualified 

to  attempt  this  essay The  underlying  strangeness  of  this  world  —  the 

psychological  strangeness  —  is  much  more  startling  than  the  visible  and  super- 
ficial. You  begin  to  suspect  the  range  of  it  after  having  discovered  that  no 
adult  occidental  can  perfectly  master  the  language.  East  and  West,  the 
fundamental  parts  of  human  nature  —  the  emotional  bases  of  it  —  are  much 
the  same:  the  mental  difference  between  a  Japanese  and  European  child  is 
merely  potential.  But  with  growth  the  difference  rapidly  develops  and 
widens,  till  it  becomes,  in  adult  life,  inexpressible.  The  whole  of  the  Japanese 
mental  superstructure  evolves  into  forms  having  nothing  in  common  with 
western  psychological  development:  the  expression  of  thought  becomes 
regulated,  and  the  expression  of  emotion  inhibited,  in  ways  that  bewilder  and 
astound.  The  ideas  of  this  people  are  not  our  ideas;  their  sentiments  are 
not  our  sentiments ;  their  ethical  life  represents  for  us  regions  of  thought  and 
emotion  yet  unexplored,  or  perhaps  long  forgotten.  Any  one  of  their  ordinary 
phrases,  translated  into  western  speech,  makes  hopeless  nonsense;  and  the 
literal  rendering  into  Japanese  of  the  simplest  English  sentence  would 
scarcely  be  comprehended  by  any  Japanese  who  had  never  studied  a  European 
tongue.  Could  you  learn  all  the  words  in  a  Japanese  dictionary,  your 
acquisition  would  not  help  you  in  the  least  to  make  yourself  understood  in 
speaking,  unless  you  had  learned  also  to  think  like  a  Japanese  —  that  is  to  say, 
to  think  backwards,  to  think  upside  down  and  inside  out,  to  think  in  direc- 
tions totally  foreign  to  Aryan  habit.  Experience  in  the  acquisition  of  Euro- 
pean languages  can  help  you  to  learn  Japanese  about  as  much  as  it  could  help 
you  to  acquire  the  language  spoken  by  the  inhabitants  of  Mars.  To  be  able 
to  use  the  Japanese  tongue  as  a  Japanese  uses  it,  one  would  need  to  be  bom 
again,  and  to  have  one's  mind  completely  reconstructed  from  the  foundation 
upward. 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES  47 

That  is,  he  would  need  to  be  the  product  of  Japanese  social  rela- 
tionships. 

These  quotations  are  intended  merely  to  illustrate  the  exist- 
ence of  psychic  contrasts  due  to  social  causation.  It  is  by  no 
means  necessary  to  look  chiefly  for  psychic  contrasts  that  coin- 
cide with  international  boundaries  —  a  position  that  was  suffi- 
ciently emphasized  in  our  second  section,  while  discussing  the 
question,  "What  is  a  society?"  The  "national"  sociologists 
and  essayists  who  describe  great  populations  as  if  each  citizen 
of  a  country  were  of  the  same  psychic  type,  are  perhaps  tempted 
to  make  interesting  reading  at  the  expense  of  scientific  accuracy. 
The  fact,  however,  remains  that  there  are  contrasting  psychic 
types,  and  the  question  how  nearly  universal  a  single  type  may 
be  throughout  a  whole  population  is  insignificant  at  this  point, 
compared  with  the  fact  that  such  psychic  contrasts  are  not  due 
to  temperamental  dissimilarities  alone,  but  also  to  social  condi- 
tions which  tend  both  to  give  prominence,  leadership,  and  power 
to  set  the  model  for  conformity  to  dominant  persons  of  this  or 
that  type,  but  also  to  elicit  from  given  individuals  moods, 
motives,  and  sentiments,  as  well  as  thoughts  and  ideals,  of  a 
certain  type,  instead  of  another  type,  of  which  in  other  sur- 
roundings the  same  individuals  would  have  proved  capable. 
This  is  the  great  truth  that  calls  sociology  into  being,  for  the 
purpose  of  analyzing  the  social  process  into  modes  of  activity, 
and  giving  account  of  the  types  of  change,  and  especially  of  the 
forms  of  causation,  elicitation,  and  conditioning,  in  accordance 
with  which  it  is  determined  which  modes  of  activity  shall  pre- 
dominate, continue,  or  succeed  each  other. 

The  significance  of  the  view  that  social  phenomena  are 
psychic  phenomena  has  by  no  means  been  made  fully  to  appear, 
and  sociologists  may  see  objections  and  difficulties  involved  in 
the  view  thus  badly  affirmed.  If  sociology  is  thus  psychological 
must  it  therefore  be  semi-metaphysical?  How  can  it  avoid  con- 
fusion between  sociology  and  psychology?    Are  not  the  physical 


48  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

traits  which  reveal  themselves  in  the  temperamental  differences  of 
Chinamen,  Latins,  and  Anglo-Saxons,  social  phenomena?  And 
are  not  tenements,  roads,  and  factories  social  phenomena?  To 
these  difficulties  we  shall  address  ourselves  in  the  following 
section. 

{To  he  continued] 


A  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY  OF  REVOLUTIONS 


PROFESSOR  CHARLES  A.  ELLWOOD,  PH.D. 
The  University  of  Missouri 


Among  the  phenomena  of  social  evolution  there  are  none 
more  striking  to  the  student  of  history  and  sociology  than 
those  commonly  called  revolutions.  I  do  not  use  the  word 
in  a  loose  sense,  to  designate  any  sudden  political  or  social 
change  from  coups  d'etat  or  "palace  revolutions"  to  rever- 
sions in  fashions  and  industrial  changes  due  to  great  inven- 
tions; but  I  refer  to  those  convulsive  movements  in  the  history 
of  societies  in  which  the  form  of  government,  or,  it  may  be,  the 
type  of  the  industrial  and  social  order,  is  suddenly  transformed. 
Such  movements  always  imply  a  shifting  of  the  center  of  social 
control  from  one  class  to  another,  and  inwardly  are  often  marked 
by  a  change  in  the  psychical  basis  of  social  control;  that  is,  a 
change  in  the  leading  ideas,  beliefs,  and  sentiments  upon  which 
the  social  order  rests.  Outwardly  such  movements  are  char- 
acterized by  bloody  struggles  between  the  privileged  and  the 
unprivileged  classes,  which  not  infrequently  issue  in  social  con- 
fusion and  anarchy.  Revolutions  in  this  sense  are  best  typified 
in  modern  history,  perhaps,  by  the  Puritan  Revolution  in 
England  and  by  the  French  Revolution.  Less  typical,  but  still 
in  some  sense  revolutions,  were  our  War  for  Independence  and 
our  Civil  War. 

The  objective  explanations  of  revolutions  which  have  usually 
been  offered  by  historians  and  economists  —  that  is,  explanations 
in  terms  of  economic,  governmental,  and  other  factors  largely 
external  —  have  been  far  from  satisfactory,  inasmuch  as  they 
have  lacked  that  universal  element  which  is  the  essential  of  all 
true  science.  These  explanations  have,  to  be  sure,  pointed  out 
true  causes  operating  in  particular  revolutions,  but  they  have 
failed  to  reveal  the  universal  mechanism  through  which  all  revo- 
lutions must  take  place.     In  the  mind  of  the  sociologist,  there- 

49 


50  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

fore,  there  has  arisen  the  further  question :  Is  there  any  explana- 
tion of  revolutions  in  general  ?  What  is  their  significance  in  the 
social  life-process?  Have  they  any  universal  form  or  method 
of  development,  and  is  that  method  capable  of  scientific  formu- 
lation ? 

To  have  even  asked  these  questions  a  score  of  years  ago 
would  probably  have  called  forth  a  storm  of  ridicule.  But  such 
has  been  the  progress  of  science  that  today  many,  if  not  most, 
social  investigators  would  admit  the  possibility  of  finding  univer- 
sal forms  in  social  occurrences,  and  so  in  revolutions.  If  a 
digression  may  be  permitted,  I  would  say  that  this  change  of 
attitude  on  the  part  of  scientific  students  of  society  is  due  largely 
to  the  progress  of  the  science  of  psychology.  The  new  functional 
psychology  has  proposed  to  interpret  all  mental  life  in  terms  of 
habit  and  adaptation;  and  the  new  psychological  sociology, 
which  is  building  itself  up  on  the  basis  of  the  new  psychology, 
proposes  to  do  the  same  thing  for  the  social  life.  Thus  the  possi- 
bility of  finding  universal  forms  for  social  occurrences  on  the 
subjective  side,  if  not  on  the  side  of  objective,  environmental 
factors,  is  today  more  widely  accepted  than  ever  before.  The 
reasons  for  the  failure  of  the  objective  method  of  explaining 
social  events  are,  indeed,  now  quite  obvious.  It  is  now  seen  that 
nearly  all  social  occurrences  are  in  the  nature  of  responses  to 
external  stimuli.  But  these  responses  are  not  related,  psychology 
tells  us,  to  their  stimuli  as  effects  are  to  causes,  as  sociologists 
have  so  often  assumed.  The  same  response  or  similar  responses 
may  be  called  forth  by  very  different  stimuli,  since  the  stimulus 
is  only  the  opportunity  for  the  discharge  of  energy.  Conse- 
quently, any  explanation  of  social  occurrences  in  terms  of  exter- 
nal causes  or  stimuli  is  in  a  sense  foredoomed  to  failure,  since 
such  an  explanation  will  fall  short  of  that  universality  which 
science  demands.  Hence  the  demands  for  a  subjective  or  psycho- 
logical explanation  of  social  phenomena,  a  demand  which  is  being 
met  today  by  the  new  psychological  sociology.  It  is  in  accord- 
ance with  this  demand  that  I  venture  to  offer  a  psychological 
theory  of  revolutions. 

The  theory  of  revolutions  here  presented  was  first  formulated 


A  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY  OF  REVOLUTIONS  5 1 

by  the  writer  in  1898,  and  first  published  in  brief  outline  in  an 
article  of  this  Journal^  in  May,  1899.  Tlie  purpose  of  this 
paper  is  merely  to  expand  and  restate  the  theory  there  presented. 
It  is  not  an  attempt,  however,  to  give  the  theory  anything  more 
than  a  tentative  form;  its  details  must  necessarily  be  left  to  be 
worked  out  through  the  further  development  of  psychology  and 
sociology.  Moreover,  it  is  not  claimed  that  this  theory  of  revo- 
lutions is  anything  absolutely  new;  foreshadowings  of  it  are  to 
be  found  in  many  historical  and  sociological  writers.^  The 
essence  of  the  theory  is  this :  that  revolutions  are  disturbances 
in  the  social  order  due  to  the  sudden  breakdown  of  social  habits 
under  conditions  which  make  difficult  the  reconstruction  of  those 
habits,  that  is,  the  formation  of  a  new  social  order.  In  other 
words,  revolutions  arise  through  certain  interferences  or  dis- 
turbances in  the  normal  process  of  the  readjustment  of  social 
habits. 

The  merit  which  is  claimed  for  this  theory  is  that  it  is  in 
harmony  with  the  new  psychology  and  attempts  to  explain  revo- 
lutions in  terms  of  habit  and  adaptation.  Habit  and  adaptation 
have  their  social  consequences,  not  less  than  their  individual  men- 
tal consequences.  The  institutions  and  customs  of  society  are 
but  social  expressions  of  habit;  while  the  normal  changes  in  the 
social  order  may  be  looked  upon  as  social  adaptations.  Habit 
and  adaptation  are,  therefore,  fundamental  categories  for  the 
interpretation  of  the  social  life-process  not  less  than  of  the  indi- 
vidual life-process;  and  the  theory  of  revolutions  here  presented 
attempts  to  bring  their  phenomena  within  these  categories. 

Normally  social  habits  are  continually  changing;  old  habits 
are  gradually  replaced  by  new  ones  as  the  life-conditions  change. 
Normally  the  breakdown  of  a  social  habit  is  so  gradual  that  by 
the  time  the  old  habit  disappears  a  new  habit  has  been  con- 
structed to  take  its  place.  Thus  the  process  of  social  change,  of 
continuous  readjustment  in  society,  goes  on  under  normal  condi- 

^  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  817,  818. 

*  Among  historical  writers  Carlyle  might  be  mentioned  (of.  his  French  Revo- 
lution, Vol.  I,  p.  38)  ;  among  sociologists,  Ward  especially  has  approximated  the 
above  views  (cf.  his  Pure  Sociology,  pp.  222-31). 


52  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tions  without  shock  or  disturbance;  new  habits,  or  institutions, 
adapted  to  the  new  life-conditions  replace  the  old  habits  and  insti- 
tutions which  are  no  longer  adapted.  This  transition  from  one 
habit  to  another  is  effected  under  ordinary  conditions  in  society 
by  such  peaceful  means  as  public  criticism,  discussion,  the  forma- 
tion of  a  public  opinion,  and  the  selection  of  individuals  to  carry 
out  the  line  of  action  socially  determined  upon.  But  where  these 
normal  means  of  effecting  readjustments  in  the  social  life  are 
lacking,  social  habits  and  institutions  become  relatively  fixed  and 
immobile,  and  a  conservative  organization  of  society  results. 
Now,  societies,  like  individuals,  are  in  danger  when  their  habits 
for  any  reason  become  inflexible.  In  the  world  of  life,  with  its 
constant  change  and  ceaseless  struggle,  only  tliose  organisms 
can  survive  which  maintain  a  high  degree  of  flexibility  or  adapta- 
bility. It  is  even  so  in  the  world  of  societies.  As  Professor 
Ward  says:  "When  a  society  makes  for  itself  a  procrustean 
bed,  it  is  simply  preparing  the  way  for  its  own  destruction  by 
the  on-moving  agencies  of  social  dynamics."^  It  is  evident,  then, 
that  a  society  whose  habits  become  inflexible  for  any  reason  is 
liable  to  disaster.  That  disaster  may  come  in  two  forms:  it 
may  come  in  the  form  of  conquest  or  subjugation  by  a  foreign 
foe;  or  it  may  come  in  the  form  of  internal  disruption  or  revolu- 
tion, when  the  conditions  of  life  have  sufficiently  changed  to 
make  old  habits  and  institutions  no  longer  workable.  It  is  with 
this  latter  case  that  we  are  concerned. 

The  conditions  under  which  social  habits  become  inflexible, 
hard  and  fast,  are  many,  and  I  shall  attempt  no  specific  enumera- 
tion of  them.  In  a  general  way  they  have  already  been  indicated 
by  saying  that  the  mechanism  by  which  the  transition  from  one 
social  habit  to  another  is  effected  —  namely,  public  criticism,  free 
discussion,  public  opinion  —  has  been  destroyed.  This  has 
occurred  most  frequently  no  doubt,  under  despotic  forms  of  gov- 
ernment; and  hence  the  connection  in  popular  thought  between 
tyranny  and  revolution.  Not  only  absolute  monarchies,  but  aris- 
tocracies and  oligarchies  also,  have  frequently  created  types  of 
social  organization  which  were  relatively  inflexible.     Despotic 

*  Pure  Sociology,  p.  230. 


A  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY  OF  REVOLUTIONS  53 

governments,  however,  are  only  one  of  many  conditions  favor- 
able to  social  immobility.  Authoritative  religions  which  have 
glorified  a  past  and  put  under  ban  all  progress  have  also  had 
much  to  do  with  creating  social  inflexibility.  Again,  the  mental 
character  of  a  race  or  people  has  much  to  do  with  the  adapta- 
bility and  progressiveness  of  the  social  groups  which  it  forms, 
and  some  writers  would  make  this  the  chief  factor.  Finally,  it  is 
well  known  that  in  societies  without  any  of  the  impediments  of 
despotic  government,  authoritative  ecclesiasticism,  or  inferior 
racial  character,  public  sentiment,  prejudice,  fanaticism,  and  class 
interest  can  and  do  suppress  free  thought  and  free  speech,  and 
produce  a  relatively  inflexible  type  of  society. 

Whatever  the  cause  of  their  immobility,  societies  with  inflex- 
ible habits  and  institutions  are  bound  to  have  trouble.  The 
conditions  of  social  life  rapidly  change,  and  opposing  forces 
accumulate  until,  sooner  or  later,  the  old  habit  is  overwhelmed. 
Under  these  conditions  the  breakdown  of  the  old  habit  is  sharp 
and  sudden;  and  the  society,  being  unused  to  the  process  of 
readjustment,  and  largely  lacking  the  machinery  therefor,  is 
unable  for  a  greater  or  less  length  of  time  to  reconstruct  its 
habits.  There  ensues,  in  consequence,  a  period  of  confusion 
and  uncertainty  in  which  competing  interests  in  the  society 
strive  for  the  mastery.  If  the  breakdown  under  these  conditions 
be  that  of  a  habit  which  affects  the  whole  social  life-process,  and 
especially  the  system  of  social  control,  we  have  a  revolution.  It 
is  consequent  upon  such  a  breakdown  of  social  habit,  then,  that 
the  phenomena  of  revolutions  arise. 

But  before  considering  some  of  these  phenomena  in  detail,  let 
us  note  somewhat  more  concretely  how  the  old  habits  and  institu- 
tions are  overthrown.  Of  course,  the  opposing  forces  must 
embody  themselves  in  a  party  of  opposition  or  revolt.  This  party 
is  composed,  on  the  whole,  of  those  individuals  whom  the 
changed  conditions  of  social  life  most  affect,  those  on  whom  the 
old  social  habits  set  least  easily.  The  psychology  of  the  revolt 
of  large  numbers  of  men  to  an  established  social  order  is,  at  bot- 
tom, a  simple  matter.  It  is  simply  a  case  of  the  breakdown  of  a 
social  habit  at  its  weakest  point,  that  is,  among  those  individuals 


54  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

with  whom  the  habit  is  least  workable,  or,  in  other  words,  whose 
interest  lies  in  another  direction.^  From  these  the  attitude  of 
revolt  spreads  by  imitation,  first  among  those  to  whom  the  old 
social  habits  are  ill-adapted,  and  finally  among  all  who  are  sus- 
ceptible to  the  influence  of  suggestion.  Thus  the  party  of  opposi- 
tion grows  until  it  comes  to  embody  all  of  the  influences  and 
interests  which  make  the  old  habits  and  institutions  ill-adapted 
or  even  unworkable.  If  these  forces  continue  to  grow,  it  is 
evident  that  there  is  possible  to  the  ruling  classes  only  two  alter- 
natives: either  they  must  make  concessions,  that  is,  attempt 
themselves  the  readjustment  of  institutions;  or  they  must  face 
actual  conflict  with  the  party  of  opposition.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
historically  the  former  alternative  has  much  more  often  been 
chosen,  thus  open  conflict  avoided,  and  so-called  "  peaceful  revo- 
lutions "  effected.  If,  however,  no  concessions  are  made  by  the 
ruling  classes,  or  only  such  as  are  insufficient  to  bring  about  the 
readjustments  demanded  by  the  life-conditions;  if,  in  other 
words,  the  relative  inflexibility  of  the  social  order  is  maintained, 
then  the  antagonism  between  the  old  social  habits  and  the  new 
life-conditions  can  be  resolved  only  by  open  conflict  between  the 
ruling  classes  and  the  party  of  revolt.  And  when  this  conflict 
results  in  the  success  of  the  party  of  revolt,  we  call  it  a  "  revo- 
lution." 

Thus  the  old  social  order  is  overthrown,  violently,  suddenly, 
and  sometimes  almost  completely.  Now  in  the  transition  from 
one  habit  to  another  in  the  individual  there  is  frequently  to  be 
observed  a  period  of  confusion  and  uncertainty;  and  this  con- 
fusion is  intensified  if  the  breakdown  of  the  old  habit  has  been 
sudden  or  violent.  We  should  expect,  therefore,  an  analogous 
confusion  in  society  upon  the  breakdown  of  social  habits;  and 
this  is  exactly  what  we  find.  The  so-called  anarchy  of  revolu- 
tionary periods  is  not  due  simply  to  the  absence  of  efficient  gov- 
ernmental machinery,  but  to  the  general  breakdown  of  the  social 

*  Of  course,  the  whole  process  of  social  differentiation  and  the  resulting 
antagonism  of  social  interests  are  closely  connected  with  the  phenomena  of  revolu- 
tions ;  but  the  psychology  of  this  process  has  been  so  fully  worked  out  by  Ratzen- 
hofer,  Tarde,  Simmel,  Ward,  and  others,  that  it  is  only  necessary  for  the  details 
of  this  aspect  of  revolutions  to  refer  to  those  writers. 


A  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY  OF  REVOLUTIONS  55 

habits  of  the  population.  The  anarchy  is,  of  course,  proportion- 
ate to  the  violence  and  completeness  with  which  the  old  habits 
and  institutions  are  overthrown.  Again,  in  such  periods  of 
confusion  in  the  individual  consequent  upon  the  entire  break- 
down of  a  habit,  we  observe  a  tendency  to  atavism  or  reversion 
in  his  activities;  that  is,  the  simpler  and  more  animal  activities 
tend  to  come  to  expression.  This  tendency  not  only  manifests 
itself  in  revolutions,  but  is  of  course  greatly  intensified  by  the 
struggle  between  the  classes ;  for  fighting,  as  one  of  the  simplest 
and  most  primitive  activities  of  man  greatly  stimulates  all  the 
lower  centers  of  action.  Hence  the  reversionary  character  of 
many  revolutionary  periods.  They  appear  to  us,  and  truly  are, 
epochs  in  which  the  brute  and  the  savage  in  man  reassert  them- 
selves and  dominate  many  phases  of  the  social  life.  The  methods 
of  acting,  of  attaining  ends,  in  revolutions  are,  indeed,  often 
characteristic  of  much  lower  stages  of  culture.  These  methods, 
as  a  rule,  are  unreflective,  extremely  direct  and  crude.  Thus 
resort  to  brute  force  is  constant,  and  when  attempts  are  made  at 
psychical  control,  it  is  usually  through  appeal  to  the  lower  emo- 
tions, especially  fear.  Hence  the  terrorism  which  is  sometimes 
a  feature  of  revolutions,  and  which  conspicuously  marked  the 
French  Revolution. 

Here  another  striking  phenomenon  of  revolutionary  epochs 
must  be  noted ;  and  that  is  the  part  played  at  such  times  by  mobs 
and  other  crowds.  Le  Bon  has  worked  over  this  matter  so 
thoroughly  that  only  a  word  on  this  phase  of  our  subject  is  neces- 
sary. It  is  evident  that  in  the  confusion  and  excitement  of  revo- 
lutionary times  the  most  favorable  conditions  exist  for  the 
formation  of  crowds  and  the  doing  of  their  work.  There  is  an 
absence,  on  the  one  hand,  of  those  controlling  habits,  ideas,  and 
sentiments  which  secure  order  in  a  population ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  is  the  reversion  to  the  unreflective  type  of  mental 
activities.  Under  such  conditions  crowds  are  easily  formed,  and 
a  suggestion  suffices  to  incite  them  to  the  most  extreme  deeds. 
Thus  much  of  the  bloodiest  work  of  revolutions  is  done  by 
crowds.  But  it  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  true  revolutions  can 
be  initiated  by  mobs,  or  carried  through  by  a  series  of  them. 


56  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Revolutions  simply  afford  opportunities  for  mobs  to  manifest 
themselves  to  a  much  greater  degree  than  they  can  in  normal 
social  life. 

The  duration  of  the  period  of  confusion,  anarchy,  and  mob- 
rule  in  a  revolution  is  dependent  upon  a  number  of  factors.  If 
the  party  of  revolt  is  united  upon  a  program,  and  if  the  popula- 
tion generally  has  not  lost  its  power  of  readjustment,  the  period 
of  confusion  may  be  so  short  as  to  be  practically  negligible. 
Under  such  circumstances  the  reconstruction  of  new  social  habits 
and  institutions  goes  on  rapidly  under  the  guidance  of  the  revo- 
lutionary party.  As  an  illustration  of  this  particular  type  of 
revolution  with  a  happy  outcome  we  may  take  our  War  of 
Independence.  In  this  case  the  relative  unity  of  the  revolutionary 
party,  the  incompleteness  of  the  destruction  of  the  old  social 
order,  the  vigorous  power  of  readjustment  in  a  relatively  free 
population,  all  favored  the  speedy  reconstruction  of  social  insti- 
tutions. 

Unfortunately,  this  speedy  reconstruction  of  social  habits  is 
not  the  outcome  of  all  revolutions.  Too  often  the  revolutionary 
party  is  unified  in  nothing  except  its  opposition  to  the  old  regime. 
It  can  find  no  principle  or  interest  upon  which  a  new  social  order 
can  be  reconstructed.  Moreover,  through  a  long  period  of  social 
immobility  the  population  seems  often  to  have  lost  in  great  degree 
its  power  of  readaptation.  Indeed,  in  rare  cases,  peoples  seem 
to  have  lost  all  power  of  making  stable  readjustments  for  them- 
selves. Under  any  or  all  of  these  conditions  it  is  evident  that 
the  period  of  confusion,  anarchy,  and  mob-rule  in  a  revolution 
must  continue  for  a  relatively  long  time.  During  this  time  fre- 
quent attempts  may  be  made  at  the  reconstruction  of  the  social 
order  without  success.  These  attempts  are  continued  until  some 
adequate  stimulus  is  found,  either  in  an  ideal  principle  or  in  the 
personality  of  some  hero,  to  reconstruct  the  social  habits  of  the 
population.  Or,  if  no  basis  for  the  reconstruction  of  the  social 
order  can  be  found,  revolution  may  become  chronic;  and  the 
period  of  relative  anarchy  and  mob-rule  may  last  for  years,  only 
to  be  ended  perhaps  by  the  subjugation  and  government  of  the 
population  by  an  external  power. 


A  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY  OF  REVOLUTIONS  S7 

A  more  usual  outcome,  however,  to  the  chronic  revolutionary- 
condition  is  the  "dictatorship."  How  this  can  arise  from  the 
conditions  in  revolutionary  times  is  not  difficult  to  understand. 
The  labors  of  ethnologists  have  shown  us  that  democracy  in 
some  shape  is  the  natural  and  primitive  form  of  government 
among  all  races  of  mankind;  that  despotism  has  arisen  every- 
where through  social  stresses  and  strains,  usually  those  accom- 
panying prolonged  war,  when  a  strong  centralized  system  of 
social  control  becomes  necessary,  if  the  group  is  to  survive. 
Now,  in  that  internal  war  which  we  call  a  revolution,  if  it  is 
prolonged,  it  is  evident  that  we  have  all  the  conditions  favorable 
to  the  rise  of  despotism.  When  the  party  of  revolt  are  unable 
to  agree  among  themselves,  and  can  offer  to  the  population  no 
adequate  stimulus  for  the  reconstruction  of  the  social  order, 
nothing  is  more  natural  than  that  that  stimulus  should  be  found 
in  the  personality  of  some  hero ;  for  social  organization  is  primi- 
tively based  upon  sentiments  of  personal  attachment  and  loyalty 
far  more  than  upon  abstract  principles  of  social  justice  and  expe- 
diency. The  personality  of  a  military  hero  affords,  then,  the 
most  natural  stimulus  around  which  a  new  social  order  can, 
so  to  speak,  crystallize  itself,  when  other  means  of  reconstructing 
social  institutions  have  failed,  and  when  continued  social  danger 
demands  a  strong  centralized  social  control.  The  dictatorship, 
in  other  words,  does  not  arise  because  some  superior  man  hypno- 
tizes his  social  group  by  his  brilliant  exploits,  but  because  such 
a  man  is  "  selected  "  by  his  society  to  reconstruct  the  social  order. 
Caesar,  Cromwell,  and  Napoleon,  these  typical  dictators  of  revo- 
lutionary eras,  would  probably  have  had  their  places  filled  by 
other,  though  perhaps  inferior,  men,  had  they  themselves  never 
existed. 

Here  may  be  briefly  explained,  finally,  the  reaction  which 
frequently  follows  revolutions.  No  revolution  is,  of  course, 
complete;  it  is  never  more  than  a  partial  destruction  of  old 
habits  and  institutions.  Now  new  habits,  psychology  tells  us, 
have  to  be  erected  on  the  basis  of  old  habits.  What  remains  of 
the  old  social  habits  after  a  revolution  must  serve,  therefore,  as 
the  foundation  for  the  new  institutions,  since  no  other  foundation 


58  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

is  possible.  After  repeated  attempts  at  reconstruction  of  the 
social  order  which  have  failed,  it  is  the  easiest  thing  to  copy  the 
old  institutions,  and  this  is  often  the  only  successful  means 
of  restoring  social  stability.  Hence  the  reversion  to  pre- 
revolutionary  conditions.  But,  in  the  nature  of  things,  such  a 
reaction  is  usually  only  temporary.  The  population  has  learned 
that  the  social  order  can  be  changed,  and  at  some  later  time  is 
quite  sure  to  attempt  it  again. 

If  the  theory  of  revolutions  here  outlined  is  in  any  degree 
correct,  it  is  evident  that  they  are  regular  phenomena  conform- 
ing to  the  laws  of  the  mental  life.  It  is  possible,  therefore,  to  pre- 
dict their  occurrence  in  the  sense  that  the  conditions  favorable 
to  their  development  can  be  stated.  This  has  already  been  done 
in  the  discussion  of  our  theory,  but  it  may  be  worth  our  while  to 
consider  these  conditions  more  critically,  in  order  to  see  how  far 
social  previsic«i  is  possible  in  this  matter  and  in  social  science  in 
general. 

It  is  evident  that,  according  to  our  theory,  revolution  is 
impossible  in  a  perfectly  flexible  and  adaptable  type  of  social 
organization.  On  the  other  hand,  revolution  is  inevitable,  bar- 
ring foreign  conquest,  in  those  types  of  social  and  political  organ- 
ization which  do  not  change  with  changing  life-conditions.  Thus 
from  a  purely  theoretical  point  of  view  everything  seems  clear. 
But  when  we  apply  these  principles  to  concrete  societies,  we 
experience  difficulties.  It  is  easy  to  predict,  in  the  case  of 
extremely  inflexible  societies  like  China  and  Russia,  that  revo- 
lution is,  sooner  or  later,  inevitable,  unless  conditions  greatly 
change.  Even  in  this  easiest  instance,  however,  our  foresight 
is  qualified  by  a  great  "if."  But  we  cannot  say  with  even  as 
much  assurance  that  our  democratic  societies  are  free  from  the 
danger  of  revolution.  They  may  have  the  forms  of  freedom 
without  the  substance.  Our  own  American  society,  for  example, 
may  be  relatively  inflexible  in  certain  matters  which  are  of  vital 
importance  to  the  life  of  our  group.  A  tyrannical  public  senti- 
ment or  class  interest  may  induce  even  in  a  democracy  such  an 
inflexibility  or  stagnation  in  institutions  that  only  a  revolution 
can  sweep  away  the  obstructing  social  structure.     This  is  what 


A  PSYCHOLOGICAL  THEORY  OF  REVOLUTIONS  59 

actually  occurred  in  the  case  of  slavery  in  our  country,  which 
institution  required  a  war  of  essentially  revolutionary  character 
for  its  overthrow.  This  can  happen  again  in  the  future;  for 
example,  in  the  relations  of  the  capitalistic  and  wage-earning 
classes.  Whenever,  in  fact,  an  institution  or  a  condition  of 
society  is  set  above  public  criticism,  and  freedom  of  discussion 
and  thought  is  suppressed  concerning  it,  we  have  a  condition  of 
social  inflexibility  and  a  loss  of  the  power  of  adaptation  which 
may  breed  revolution.  Thus  the  most  that  can  be  said  in  the  way 
of  predicting  revolutions  must  be  in  very  general  terms.  All 
that  we  can  say  is  that  some  societies  are  more  liable  to  revolu- 
tions than  others,  while  no  society  can  safely  be  judged  to  be 
entirely  free  from  the  danger  of  revolution.  In  other  words, 
no  one  can  say  where  revolutions  will  occur,  and  much  less  when. 

But  this  negative  conclusion  regarding  the  predictability  of 
revolutions  is  not  valueless.  If  the  social  sciences  cannot  foretell 
social  events,  they  nevertheless  can  so  define  the  conditions  under 
which  they  occur  that  social  development  can  be  controlled.  Thus 
it  is  of  value  to  society  to  know  the  general  conditions  under 
which  revolutions  occur ;  for  such  knowledge  points  out  the  way 
by  which  revolutions  can  be  avoided.  Surely  it  cannot  be  value- 
less for  a  society  to  know  that  by  encouraging  intelligent  public 
criticism,  free  discussion,  and  free  thought  about  social  condi- 
tions and  institutions,  by  keeping  itself  adaptable,  flexible,  alert 
for  betterment,  it  is  pursuing  the  surest  way  to  avoid  future 
disaster.  Social  science,  if  it  cannot  foretell  the  future,  can 
nevertheless  indicate  the  way  of  social  health  and  security. 

The  important  practical  truth,  then,  brought  out  by  this  study 
of  revolutions,  is  that  which  has  been  so  well  expressed  by 
Professor  Ward  when  he  says  of  societies : 

Only  the  labile  is  truly  stable,  just  as  in  the  domain  of  living  things  only 
the  plastic  is  enduring.  For  lability  is  not  an  exact  synonym  of  instability, 
but  embodies  besides  the  idea  of  flexibility  and  susceptibility  to  change  with- 
out destruction  or  loss.  It  is  that  quality  in  institutions  which  enables  them 
to  change  and  still  persist,  which  converts  their  equilibrium  into  a  moving 
equilibrium,  and  which  makes  possible  their  adaptation  to  both  internal  and 
external  modification,  to  changes  in  both  individual  character  and  the 
environment.* 

'Pure  Sociology,  p.  230. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY     XV 

PART  III.    GENERAL  STRUCTURE  OF  SOCIETIES 

CHAPTER  VII.      THE  SOCIAL  FRONTIERS    (CONTINUED) 

SECTION    VI.       THE    ROMAN    WORLD     (CONTINUED) 


G.    DE    GREEF 
Rector  of  the  Nouvelle  Universite,  Brussels,  Belgium 


We  have  seen  that  the  Roman  ceremony  relating  to  the 
deHmitation  of  the  city,  a  preHminary  which  is  the  prime  condi- 
tion of  all  social  structure,  was  modeled  upon  Etruscan  cere- 
monies. These  in  their  turn  rested  upon  analogous  beliefs 
derived  from  similar  economic  conditions  antecedent  to  the 
division  oi  lands  among  families  and  the  foundation  of  towns  in 
Greece.  Everywhere  the  reality  is  constantly  the  same.  Accord- 
ing to  times  and  circumstances,  its  interpretation  and  its  forms 
alone  vary.  Always  and  everywhere  also  the  social  fact,  whether 
it  is  military  or  peaceful,  has  an  economic  foundation  at  once 
material  and  psychic. 

With  Greeks  and  Romans  defeat  brought  in  its  train  destruc- 
tion of  the  social  autonomy  of  the  defeated  group.  It  lost  its 
frontier,  with  everything  connected  with  it  —  the  town  with  all 
its  contents,  living  and  dead,  men  and  gods,  goods,  animals,  and 
people.  Thus  the  conquered  city  gave  itself  over  entirely  to  the 
conqueror,  with  its  territory  and  its  population,  including  its 
ancestors.  The  formula  of  surrender  or  deditio,  as  given  by 
Livy  runs :  "  I  give  my  person,  my  town,  my  land,  the  water 
which  runs  there,  my  boundary  gods,  my  temples,  my  furniture, 
all  the  things  that  belong  to  the  gods,  I  give  these  to  the  Roman 
people."^  The  formula  of  surrender  is  also  found  in  the 
Amphitryon  of  Plautus :  "  Urbem,  agrum,  aras,  focos,  seque 
uti  dederent;"^  and  later:  "dedunteque  se  divina  humanaque 
people."^  The  formula  of  surrender  is  also  found  in  the 
"omnia,  urbem  et  liberos."* 

'I,  38;   VII,  31  ;    XXVIII,  34-     See  also  Polybius,  XXXVI,  2. 
'Vs.  71,  'Vs.  loi. 

60 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  6l 

Moreover,  in  the  military  city,  just  as  it  is  the  military  and  at 
the  same  time  religious  chieftain  who  founds  the  city,  by  locat- 
ing its  boundaries,  it  is  in  like  manner  the  chief  who  in  case  of 
defeat  gives  it  up,  and  cedes  the  terminal  gods  and  all  the  con- 
tents of  the  social  group  to  the  preservation  of  which  these  gods 
were  supposed  to  be  devoted.  If  the  limits  of  the  ancestral  land 
were  strict  and  continuous  and  if  the  town  itself  was  guarded 
from  its  neighbors  by  its  inclosure,  nevertheless  the  latter  was 
less  closed  than  the  domestic  territory.  The  town  communi- 
cated with  the  region  beyond  by  gates.  Its  territory,  although 
limited,  had  openings.  It  is  remarkable  that  even  in  our  language 
these  openings  recall  the  partly  pacific  character  of  their  primi- 
tive function.  Thus,  for  example,  in  the  form  of  expression 
"to  make  overtures  of  peace"  (ouvertures). 

The  ancient  town  was,  in  its  normal  situation,  in  harmonious 
relations  with  the  surrounding  agricultural  domains;  accord- 
ingly, with  progress  of  inequality,  the  rural  family  estates  fin- 
ished by  falling  into  the  hands  of  residents  of  the  town,  or  of 
great  proprietors  who  located  in  the  town  and  ceased  to  work 
their  estates  directly.  Moreover,  the  town  with  its  agricultural 
dependencies  was  more  accessible  to  the  stranger  than  the  ances- 
tral estate,  whether  that  of  the  clan  or  of  the  tribe.  If  the  city 
represented  by  the  town  and  the  annexed  agricultural  estates 
thus  formed  virtually  the  embryo  of  the  modern  state,  and  if  it 
developed  by  conquest  of  new  territories  and  of  other  cities,  it 
is  certain  that  it  presented  in  its  very  structure  the  germs  of 
pacific  development.  In  the  sociological  differentiation  resulting 
from  the  distinction  between  town  and  country  there  is  a  compli- 
cation of  structure  which  gives  to  the  internal  organization  an 
importance  almost  as  great  as  that  belonging  to  the  external 
structure.  There  is  an  exterior  frontier  and  a  center.  In  soci- 
eties chiefly  military  this  center  will  be  as  distinct  as  the  frontier, 
but  much  less  significant,  because  it  is  in  pacific  relations  at  least 
with  the  agricultural  territory  and  population  forming  part  of 
the  same  social  aggregate  with  itself.  This  pacific  tendency  of 
urban  centers  cannot  fail  to  increase  in  strength.  For  example, 
when,  as  in  our  day,  they  have  become  commercial  and  Indus- 


62  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

trial,  they  tend  to  break  down  and  even  to  abolish  entirely  econ- 
omic frontiers,  and  indirectly  to  do  away  with  the  whole  military 
structure.  If  the  ancient  city  advanced  its  frontiers  by  war,  it 
developed  equally  within  by  peace.  The  essential  forms  of  the 
state  remained  the  same,  but  the  increase  of  the  social  mass  of 
the  territory  and  of  population  was  paralleled  by  an  increasing 
differentiation  in  the  interior,  with  a  corresponding  co-ordination 
of  all  parts  of  the  society. 

In  Greece  the  Amphyctionic  confederations  succeeded  at  last 
in  controlling  and  organizing  certain  relations  between  the  states, 
and  in  imposing  limitations  even  upon  war.  These  confedera- 
tions were  concluded  and  commemorated  by  a  sacrifice  and  a 
common  meal.  These  international  feasts,  analogous  to  those  of 
the  clan,  and  equally  to  those  which  had  continued  to  be  the  cus- 
tom in  each  city,  although  in  different  degrees  according  to  the 
greater  or  less  force  of  the  ancient  communal  traditions,  were 
in  reality  at  this  moment  the  equivalent  of  the  commercial  and 
other  treaties  which  led  to  the  foundation  of  later  political  federa- 
tions by  basing  them  upon  a  durable  economic  understanding. 
In  Greece,  at  Rome,  and  everywhere  else  the  extension  of  exter- 
nal frontiers,  or  the  abolition  of  them  by  reciprocal  intersocial 
penetration,  corresponded  continually  to  a  reduction  and  to  a 
leveling  of  the  different  classes  in  the  city.  These  classes  dis- 
solved gradually  through  the  weakening  of  economic,  religious, 
moral,  and  legal  conditions;  in  a  word,  through  more  and  more 
complete  participation  of  all  in  the  same  religious  and  legal 
rights.  In  these  cases  the  struggle  was  always  between  the 
democracy  and  the  oligarchy,  as  well  between  the  groups  of  the 
same  society  as  between  different  states.  At  Rome  the  treaty 
between  the  plebs  and  the  patricians  was  concluded  at  a  certain 
moment  in  the  same  forms  as  the  treaties  between  two  different 
states :  "  foedere  icto  cum  plebe,"  says  Tacitus.*  Dionysius  of 
Halicarnassus'^  tells  us  that  the  fetiales  acted  as  intermediaries, 
and  he  gives  extracts  from  the  treaty  called  lex  sacrata. 

All  the  internal  development  of  Roman  civilization  progressed 
pari  passu  with  the  extension  of  its  frontiers.     How  different  in 

*  IV,  6.  » VI,  89. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  63 

everything  that  concerns  these  latter  the  situation  was  from  that 
which  it  had  been  before  the  foundation,  by  a  band  of  adven- 
turers and  of  colonists,  of  a  petty  center  as  jealously  closed  as 
was  primitive  Rome !  Then  the  Etruscans,  separated  from  other 
populations  by  physical  frontiers  and  by  their  ethnic  traits, 
stretched  from  the  Adige  and  the  Alps  to  the  Tiber.  The  center 
and  the  Mediterranean  slope  were  inhabited  by  homogeneous 
tribes — Umbrians,  Sabians,  etc. —  sometimes  united  and  some- 
times at  war  with  each  other.  The  Oscans  formed  a  barrier 
across  the  peninsula  from  one  sea  to  the  other.  The  Oenotrians 
dominated  down  to  the  Sicilian  strait.  On  the  north  of  the  Adige 
there  were,  besides  the  Veneti,  and  on  the  south  of  Mount 
Garganus,  the  lapygi.  an  Illyrian  people. 

What  a  change  if  we  place  ourselves  a  few  years  before  our 
era,  under  the  empire!  All  the  barriers  and  the  ethnic  and 
physical  divisions  are  leveled.  The  whole  peninsula  bears  the 
name  of  Italy,  reserved  in  primitive  times  for  the  populations 
inhabiting  Bruttium  and  Lucania.  In  reality,  then,  the  name 
has  no  longer  any  ethnic  or  geographic  significance. 

Without  speaking  of  Gaul,  to  which  we  shall  later  give  atten- 
tion in  connection  with  the  formation  and  development  of  the 
French  nation,  and  of  its  successive  frontiers  and  the  conquest 
by  Caesar,  Egypt,  and  then  Galatia  and  Paphlagonia,  were 
annexed  about  thirty  years  before  our  era.  Even  these  annexa- 
tions were  brought  about  peacefully,  inasmuch  as  they  were  only 
the  transformation  of  earlier  protectorates.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  first  century  the  empire  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  the 
Rhine,  the  Danube,  and  the  Euxine ;  on  the  east,  by  the  Euphrates 
and  the  mountains  of  Syria  and  Judea ;  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Mediterranean  it  stretched  on  the  south  to  Egypt  and  to  the 
southern  shores  of  the  great  sea.  It  occupied  these  coasts  as  far 
as  Mauritania.  On  the  east  it  reached  the  ocean  and  the  North 
Sea.    The  Mediterranean  had  thus  become  an  internal  waterway. 

The  principal  purpose  of  Augustus  had  been  to  assure  the 
defense  of  Gaul  against  the  Germans,  as  that  of  Caesar  had  been 
to  guarantee  Italy  against  invasions  from  the  Gauls.  Both  were 
agents  of  that  destiny  which  decreed  that  purely  physical  obstacles 


64  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

could  not  serve  as  a  frontier.  A  physical  frontier  consisting  of  a 
river  or  a  mountain  is  not  adequately  defended  except  on  the  con- 
dition of  being  extended.  The  defensive  force  of  these  barriers  is 
insufficient,  even  from  the  military  point  of  view  without  reckon- 
ing that  the  social  forces  tend  in  addition  to  extend  not  merely 
beyond  geographical  divisions,  but  also  military  limits.  Csesar 
conquered  Gaul  to  guarantee  Italy  and  to  assure  Spain.  Augustus 
was  not  content  with  completing  the  subjection  of  the  tribes  of 
the  Alps,  with  establishing  colonies  in  Narbonne,  and  with  com- 
municating regularly  through  them  with  the  left  bank  of  the 
Rhine,  where  he  stationed  his  legions.  The  Rhine  is  only  a 
physical  frontier.  To  make  it  a  social  frontier,  it  was  necessary 
to  prevent  access  to  it.  Accordingly,  Augustus  advanced  upon 
the  right  bank,  where  Varus  met  with  decisive  disaster.  The 
advance  was  pushed  into  regions  which  no  organized  Roman 
social  force  had  penetrated.  The  zone  had  not  been  prepared  for 
conquest  as  a  sphere  of  influence.  Augustus  contented  himself, 
consequently,  with  annexing  Norica,  Pannonia,  Mcesia,  and  the 
interior  of  Dalmatia,  and  with  establishing  secure  continental 
communications  between  the  eastern  and  the  western  parts  of  the 
empire. 

Within  these  limits  interior  peace  is  assured  —  the  fusion  of 
races  and  varieties  of  peoples  is  complete.  Hence  all  the  legions 
are  distributed  in  the  northeast  of  the  empire,  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine  and  of  the  Danube,  in  Syria,  and  in  Egypt.  All  the 
military  forces  are  at  the  extremities  in  proportion  to  the  needs. 
This  is  the  fusion  which  took  place  in  the  interior  as  well  as  in 
Africa  from  the  year  37  of  our  era.  All  the  legions  are  concen- 
trated in  Numidia.  Nowhere  is  the  empire  any  more  in  arms 
except  against  the  barbarians;  that  is  to  say,  against  those  who 
are  outside  the  zone  of  the  influence  of  Roman  civilization,  or  in 
the  zone  still  partially  affected  by  this  influence.  The  emperor, 
supreme  war-lord,  and  thus  the  successor  of  primitive  petty  kings, 
governs  directly  the  frontier  countries.  He  is  the  head,  the  front 
(frons,  frontier),  armed  for  attack  and  defense.  The  frontiers 
called  geographic  are  not  used  except  as  bases.  They  are  worth- 
less unless  they  are  combined  with  a  powerful  human  force  to 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  65 

make  a  social  frontier.  This  military  frontier  has  in  reality  to 
face  in  two  directions.  It  must  oppose  two  hostile  forces :  the 
exterior  enemy,  and  the  more  positive  and  penetrating  social 
forces  of  which  it  is  the  envelope,  on  one  side;  and,  on  the  other, 
its  own  interior  forces,  which  aro  incessantly  developing  them- 
selves, and  which  oblige  the  military  frontier  to  press  forward  in 
order  to  make  place  for  stable,  regular,  and  peaceful  communica- 
tion with  the  regions  over  which  military  protectorate  is  exercised. 
Thus  progressive  civilizations  continually  chase  war  before  them, 
expelling  it  from  their  own  borders  and  relegating  it  to  remote 
frontiers.  This  is  a  constant  law,  applicable  to  petty  states  as  well 
as  to  the  largest  empires. 

All  frontiers  are  social,  even  the  military  frontiers;  and  this 
is  why  they  change  continually.  It  is  also  why  the  military  form 
is  incapable,  as  historical  experience  has  proved  it  to  be,  of 
establishing  a  regular  mode  of  inter-social  equilibrium,  and  why 
other  forms  must  be  substituted.  It  is  a  task  for  the  sociologist 
to  discover  what  is  the  most  advantageous  form  in  a  civilization 
which,  like  ours,  has  Iqng  since  passed  the  frontiers  of  the  Roman 
power  at  the  height  of  its  grandeur;  in  which,  nevertheless, 
narrow  military  frontiers  not  at  all  consistent  with  the  real 
development  of  civilization  continue  to  divide  people  who  for  a 
long  time  have  shared  a  common  life. 

In  his  political  testament  Augustus  advised  contentment  with 
the  limits  which  he  assigned  to  the  empire.  He  was  thus  imbued 
with  the  idea  that  there  are  natural  and  fixed  limits.  On  the  con- 
trary, every  social  frontier  is  variable  as  the  society  itself. 
Indeed,  it  merely  expresses  in  reality  the  limits  of  the  power 
of  the  society  to  penetrate  surrounding  territory  —  limits  them- 
selves variable  and  diverse,  as  we  have  seen,  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  energies  or  social  capacities  and  external  resistances. 
The  advice  of  Augustus  was  wise  in  appearance,  but  impracti- 
cable. To  defend  itself,  a  society  must  be  able  to  attack.  Accord- 
ingly, from  Augustus  to  Trajan,  besides  temporary  acquisitions, 
the  empire  annexed  Armenia  as  far  as  the  Caucasus,  as  well  as 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  Euxine  as  far  as  the  Cimmerian  Bos- 
phorus.     It  also  absorbed   Cappadocia,   Lycia,   and   the  whole 


66  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

basin  of  the  Euphrates  and  the  Tigris.  In  Syria  it  extended  its 
rule  toward  the  interior  beyond  the  mountains.  In  Egypt  it 
approached  the  second  cataract.  In  Europe  it  conquered,  not 
only  Thrace,  but  Dacia  beyond  the  Danube.  Accordingly,  the 
mountains  of  Bastarnia  became  in  this  region  the  strategic  point 
of  its  frontier  against  the  barbarous  Sarmatians.  As  in  the  case 
of  the  Danube,  the  empire  again  crossed  the  Rhine  on  the  east, 
and  it  also  made  the  agri  decumates  a  defense  in  that  quarter. 

After  Trajan  the  empire  consolidates  and  completes  its  Asiatic 
possessions.  In  Europe  it  prolongs  the  holdings  on  the  Euxine 
as  far  as  the  mouth  of  the  Hypanis  and  the  Borysthenes.  The 
Euxine  is  thus,  like  the  Mediterranean,  transformed  into  an 
interior  lake  and  route  of  communication.  On  the  northwest  the 
frontier  is  carried  as  far  as  the  Elbe.  From  the  center  to  the 
extremities  the  great  routes,  whether  military  or  commercial,  run 
together  and  complete  each  other  in  ramifications  that  carry  out 
a  common  internal  system  of  circulation  for  goods,  for  men,  and 
for  ideas.  During  all  the  imperial  period  the  system  of  routes  of 
communication  was  completed,  not  merely  in  Italy,  but  through- 
out the  different  regions  to  the  remotest  extremities.  The 
analogy  of  their  development  with  that  of  our  railroads  is  remark- 
able. Strategic  necessities  exerted  upon  their  direction  an  influ- 
ence at  first  superior  to  that  of  economic  needs.  Of  course,  it 
was  necessary  in  building  them  to  take  account  of  topography  and 
of  the  situation  of  the  large  towns,  but  these  were  neglected  fre- 
quently to  such  an  extent  that  many  very  important  ancient 
centers  found  themselves  left  outside  of  the  great  circulating  sys- 
tem ;  and  it  is  perhaps  more  exact  to  say  that  the  position  of  the 
towns  was  henceforth  determined  by  the  routes  of  communica- 
tion, than  that  the  latter  were  located  by  the  position  of  the 
towns. 

And  still,  as  always,  the  armed  force  is  pursued  by  the  over- 
flowing civilization  toward  the  extremities.  There  were  thirty 
legions  under  Vespasian  in  place  of  twenty-eight  in  the  year  95 
A.  D.,  and  of  twenty-five  earlier;  but  now  Dalmatia  is  stripped  of 
troops.    Anterior  Spain  has  only  two  legions,  Africa  only  one. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  67 

On  the  other  hand,  along  the  Danube  there  are  seven  legions  in 
the  place  of  four,  and  in  the  Orient  eight  in  the  place  of  six. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  second  century  the  emperors  were 
busy  consolidating  the  frontiers.  The  movement  toward  expan- 
sion seems  to  have  attained  its  extreme  limit.  The  vallum 
Hadriani  is  built  between  the  Solway  and  the  Tyne,  the  vallum 
Antonini  between  the  Clyde  and  the  Forth.  The  limes  of  the 
Rhine  is  fortified  like  that  of  Rhsetia.  The  rivers  are  thus 
not  themselves  the  barriers  against  the  barbarians;  it  is  neces- 
sary to  add  to  them  a  human  force.  The  frontier  therefore 
always  presents  the  physical  and  human  combination  which  is 
fundamentally  the  basis  of  every  social  phenomena.  It  is  a  social 
phenomenon,  not  purely  physical  nor  purely  human.  It  is  nothing 
else  than  social. 

If  the  empire  is  from  this  moment  on  the  defensive,  it  is  the 
intermediate  stage  between  full  development  and  decline.  The 
frontiers  are  closed.  Interior  commerce  suffers.  Infiltration  of 
barbarians  takes  place  irresistibly,  in  spite  of  everything,  and  it 
prepares  the  way  for  the  violent  removal  of  the  barriers.  The 
establishments  of  military  colonies,  of  Germanic  or  other  origin, 
becomes  more  common.  The  empire  under  Constantine  (324- 
37)  moves  its  capital  to  Byzantium.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
fifth  century,  in  accordance  with  the  notitia  dignitatum,  it  is 
divided  into  four  prefectures:  that  of  the  East,  of  Illyria,  of 
Italy,  and  of  Gaul ;  with  fourteen  dioceses  and  one  hundred  and 
twenty  provinces.  Duces  and  comites  are  charged  with  command 
at  the  frontiers.  In  the  interior  large  private  proprietorship  is 
developed  and  strengthened  more  and  more  at  the  expense  of 
small  ownership  and  of  the  public  domain.  The  forms  of  dis- 
memberment and  of  the  feudal  hierarchy  begin  to  be  prepared. 
The  dismemberment  and  the  feudal  regime  would  have  occurred 
without  the  invasions  of  the  barbarians.  The  latter,  however, 
everywhere  accentuated  the  military  character  of  the  process. 
If  the  external  frontiers  were  removed,  we  must  attribute  it  in 
large  part  to  the  transformation  of  internal  forces,  but  always  as 
we  have  shown,  in  their  external  equilibration,  which  could  not 
be  sudden,  but  adjusted  itself  slowly  and  gradually,  like  all  the 


68  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

great  natural  transformations.  These  do  not  appear  in  the  form 
of  cataclysms,  except  to  superficial  observers  who  consider  only 
results. 

The  emperors  had  fringed  the  frontiers  with  castles,  strong- 
holds encircled  by  a  fosse,  and  limes,  especially  where  there  was 
no  river  to  serve  as  a  barrier.  The  neighboring  lands  were  the 
collective  property  of  the  bodies  of  troops,  always  accompanied 
by  their  women  and  children,  with  their  counts  and  their  dukes 
as  military  chieftains.  They  were  literally  marches.  Lampridius 
says  that  Alexander  Severus  (222-35),  after  his  wars  in  Mauri- 
tania, Illyria,  and  Armenia,  "gave  the  lands  taken  from  the 
enemy  to  the  chiefs  and  the  soldiers  of  the  frontiers,  on  condition 
that  their  heirs  should  be  soldiers,  and  that  these  lands  should 
never  pass  into  the  possession  of  men  who  were  not  soldiers." 
Likewise  Vopiscus  says  that  Probus  (276-82)  "gave  to  his 
veterans  certain  lands  in  Isauria,  adding  that  their  male  children 
should  be  under  obligation  to  become  soldiers  at  the  age  of 
eighteen  years."  Here  is  evidently  one  of  the  origins  of  the 
feudal  contract,  which  was  destined  to  reorganize  the  law  of 
property  by  putting  it  in  connection  with  military  service  and 
sovereignty. 

Nevertheless,  the  Theodosian  code®  contains  a  law  of  Hono- 
rius  which  justifies  the  supposition  that  the  obligation  of  military 
service,  even  in  his  time,  was  not  always  strictly  observed,  and 
that  chiefs  of  military  colonies  tended  to  make  themselves  inde- 
pendent. Thus  as  the  law  expresses  it,  "the  lands  which  the 
far-seeing  goodness  of  our  early  predecessors  ceded  to  soldiers 
called  gentiles  [genuine  military  clans  and  an  apparent  return  to 
primitive  forms],  to  protect  the  frontiers  of  the  empire,  are 
according  to  reports  that  reach  us,  sometimes  alienated  to  men 
who  are  not  soldiers,  but  care  must  be  taken  that  such  holders  of 
land  shall  perform  their  proper  service  in  protecting  the  frontiers. 
If  they  fail  in  this  duty,  they  must  leave  their  lands  and  make 
them  over  to  the  gentiles  and  to  the  veterans."  Failure  to  per- 
form military  duty  accordingly  resulted,  as  in  later  feudal  times, 
in  breaking  the  contract  which  was  later  a  part  of  the  tenure  in 

•Book  VII,  tide  15. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  69 

the  case  of  all  feudal  lords.  The  consequence  evidently  was  that 
the  feudal  regime  was  a  natural  development  of  property  as 
organized  by  the  law  of  the  quirites,  just  as  in  our  day  commercial 
and  industrial  trusts  are  a  development  of  economic  law  as  it  was 
formulated,  for  instance,  by  the  Code  Napoleon.  The  organiza- 
tion of  the  colonial  system  extended  from  the  frontiers,  where  its 
form  was  military,  to  the  interior,  where  it  was  at  first  entirely 
economic;  but  where  it  ended  by  developing  a  corresponding 
legal  and  political  regime.  Thus  the  colonial  system,  in  extending 
itself  from  the  frontiers  to  the  interior  of  the  empire,  prepared 
the  way  for  the  system  of  serfdom.  Labor  that  was  free,  as  com- 
pared with  ancient  personal  slavery,  began  to  be  considered  more 
profitable  than  that  of  chattels.  The  latter  accordingly  passed 
into  a  species  of  colonists.  Thus  the  whole  society  tended  to 
model  itself  upon  the  combined  economic  and  military  structure 
of  the  frontier  colonies.  The  development  of  large  proprietorship 
could  have  no  other  end  than  a  tremendous  advantage  on  the  part 
of  the  owners,  and  in  proportion  to  their  economic  power  the 
latter  increased  in  military  importance,  in  right  to  administer 
justice,  and  at  length  in  all  the  attributes  of  political  sovereignty, 
according  to  a  hierarchical  scheme  in  accordance  with  the  military 
and  economic  structure  of  the  new  society.  Feudalism  and  the 
whole  Middle  Age  regime  thus  issued  directly  from  the  empire. 
For  two  centuries  the  jurists  had  taught  that  provincial  land 
was  not  susceptible  of  complete  ownership;  the  dominium  over 
it  belonged  by  right  of  conquest  to  the  state.  The  individual 
proprietors  could  have  nothing  more  than  possession  and  usufruct. 
In  the  fourth  century  of  our  era  this  distinction  between  Italian 
and  provincial  land  no  longer  existed  and  for  a  long  time  the 
provincials  were  Roman  citizens.  At  the  same  time,  proprietor- 
ship lost  its  religious  character.  There  was  no  longer  any  wor- 
ship of  the  god  Terminus.  There  came  to  be  cultivators  who 
were  at  the  same  time  judges  and  surveyors,  who  fixed  boundaries 
and  settled  conflicts.  Violation  of  boundaries  is  no  longer  sacri- 
lege, but  crime.  The  military  form  of  social  structure,  with  the 
suppression  of  interior  frontiers  and  their  removal  to  a  great 


70  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

distance,  greatly  modified  the  forms  of  authority  in  the  interior 
of  the  empire,  and  especially  in  Italy. 

Meanwhile,  under  the  empire  from  the  close  of  the  third 
century,  there  had  already  begun  a  modification  of  the  general 
defensive  limits.  The  countries  protected  by  the  limes  of  Ger- 
many and  of  Rhaetia  are  lost.  The  frontier  is  brought  back  to 
the  Rhine  and  the  Danube.  Dacia  is  lost,  and  in  368  a  portion  of 
Mesopotamia.  General  instability,  greatest  in  the  most  distant 
regions,  which  are  the  latest  acquired  and  the  most  exposed,  the 
danger  resulting  from  the  excessive  power  of  the  governors  of 
military  provinces,  the  increasing  multiplicity  of  conflicts  of  all 
kinds,  and  of  problems  to  be  solved  far  from  the  administrative 
centers,  tended  to  increase  the  number  of  the  contractions.  While 
at  the  beginning  of  the  first  century  there  were  only  twenty-nine 
provinces  at  the  end  of  the  same  century  there  were  thirty-six; 
at  the  end  of  the  second,  forty-two;  at  the  end  of  the  third  they 
had  become  ninety-six ;  and  at  the  year  400  the  number  of  prov- 
inces was  one  hundred  and  twenty. 

Augfustus  had  divided  Italy  into  eleven  regions  or  circuits. 
Some  of  these  still  had  mountains  and  rivers  as  boundaries,  but 
none  of  them  any  longer  corresponded  to  earlier  ethnic  conditions. 
Italy  had  now  become  cut  up  into  provinces  scarcely  at  all  corre- 
sponding with  the  physical  characteristics  of  the  older  regions. 
These  natural  physical  and  ethnic  traits  had  become  secondary 
in  importance  and  had  passed  into  neglect.  Thus  there  was  a 
province  of  Liguria,  but  it  was  located  north  of  the  Po,  with 
Milan  as  its  capital. 

While  increasing  differentiation  of  internal  administration 
went  on,  a  hierarchy  established  itself  in  the  administration  itself. 
Aurelian  and  Diocletian  grouped  all  the  provinces  into  twelve 
dioceses,  and  between  the  governors  and  the  central  power  he 
created  vicarii.  The  unity  of  the  empire  is  only  administrative, 
hence  in  reality  very  feeble  in  view  of  the  new  social  situation. 
All  in  all,  the  political  center  has  become  as  fragile  as  the  frontier. 
Rome  for  centuries  is  no  longer  a  military  march  nor  a  frontier 
capital  (caput,  frons).  She  is  at  the  center  of  a  world,  but  an 
already  insufficient  center,  because  the  Orient  is  less  solidly  and 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  7 1 

directly  attached  to  it  than  central  and  occidental  Europe.  In  the 
year  395  the  empire  is  divided,  and  there  are  two  prefects  in  each 
of  its  two  parts.  The  division  of  the  central  power  of  necessity 
increased  parallel  with  the  shifting  of  frontiers  and  the  internal 
social  transformation.  Under  the  later  empire  the  principle  of 
separating  military  and  civic  functions  is  to  prevail.  There  will 
be  masters  of  the  forces,  and  under  them  counts  and  dukes  whose 
prerogatives  extend  over  regions  of  various  size,  sometimes 
including  several  provinces.  Instead  of  being  concentrated,  the 
troops  are  dispersed  in  garrisons  of  various  sizes  along  the  Rhine 
and  the  Danube  from  source  to  mouth.  Danger  threatens  every- 
where from  without,  and  society  is  in  full  transformation  within. 
New  conditions  must  necessarily  have  as  a  result  a  transforma- 
tion of  the  frontiers.  The  dissolution  of  the  empire  goes  on 
parallel  with  the  social  reorganization  of  its  content,  in  connection 
with  the  internal  and  external  conditions  of  the  latter. 

Religious  and  philosophical  beliefs  were  in  continuous  correla- 
tion with  the  evolution  already  passed  through,  and  with  that 
which  was  in  progress. 

Just  as  the  fosse  around  the  primitive  towns  was  the  mundus, 
at  first  the  strictly  inviolable  circle  of  social  life,  so  under  the 
empire  the  "  Roman  world,"  including  its  most  distant  extremi- 
ties, was  such  a  life-circle.  At  its  boundaries  all  social  assimila- 
tion ceased  to  be  possible.  However  great  the  Roman  city  became, 
whatever  was  its  force  of  expansion,  it  was  always  limited.  At 
its  apogee  as  at  the  beginning,  its  limitations  are  very  rigid.  It 
has  a  belt  of  strong  castles  and  of  military  colonies  wherever 
physical  obstacles  do  not  afford  sufficient  means  of  defense.  In 
fact,  there  is  so  little  confidence  in  the  latter  that  at  the  approach 
of  danger  military  posts  are  scattered  all  along  the  frontier,  even 
where  there  are  large  rivers  and  high  mountains. 

In  the  midst  of  this  world,  so  broad  that  to  the  eyes  of  the 
great  mass  of  its  inhabitants  it  might  well  have  seemed  limitless, 
a  homogeneous  social  life  developed  itself  progressively  by  the 
extension  of  the  great  routes  of  commerce ;  by  the  necessity  of  a 
more  and  more  intensive  production,  both  agricultural  and  indus- 
trial; by  the  slow  fusion  of  human  varieties;  by  the  fusion  of 
usages  of  customs,  of  divinities,  and  even  of  philosophies;    by 


^2  THE  AMERICA}^  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  application  of  a  uniform  law,  and  of  a  strongly  centralized 
political  and  administrative  regulation.  The  "great  Roman 
peace  "  was  a  period  unique  in  the  history  of  human  societies,  at 
least  in  a  civilization  on  so  large  a  scale.  The  citizens  of  this 
Roman  world  might  well  have  cherished  the  illusion  that  this 
world  did  not  have  frontiers,  since  they  were  so  distant,  and  any 
conflicts  which  arose  with  the  regions  beyond  made  so  little 
impression  in  the  central  regions.  What  they  could  not  see  was 
that  not  only  at  the  exterior  did  Roman  civilization  have  its 
limits,  not  merely  military  or  political  properly  speaking,  and 
still  others  more  or  less  extended  than  the  military  limits;  but 
that  in  the  interior  of  Roman  society  an  enormous  differentiation 
of  the  functions  of  social  life  was  taking  place  in  correlation  with 
the  development  of  territorial  extension  and  of  the  mass  of  the 
population.  This  differentiation  of  the  functions  of  social  life 
had  necessitated  an  adequate  organic  differentiation,  and  conse- 
quently an  enormous  multiplication  of  structures  and  internal 
delimitations  unknown  and  non-existent  before.  If  Roman 
development  had  been  simply  a  development  in  mass  and  in 
extent,  without  internal  organic  differentiation,  it  would  have  had 
no  interest  for  the  historian  and  the  sociologist.  But  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  frontiers  of  Roman  civilization  was  always  correlated 
with  its  internal  evolution.  The  two  were  in  continuous  and 
variable  equilibration,  and  there  was  at  the  same  time  progressive 
adjustment  with  the  exterior  world. 

Then  as  now  the  political  theorists  and  the  philosophers,  con- 
sidering chiefly  the  most  apparent  external  aspect  —  the  frontier 
in  its  purely  military  and  political  factors,  which  is  like  the  pro- 
tective shell  of  all  the  internal  portions  of  this  great  social  body, 
the  envelope  of  which  they  even  lost  consciousness  in  proportion 
to  its  distance  from  the  superior  centers,  and  also  losing  from 
view  that  this  envelope  is  not  only  an  organ  of  separation  and  of 
defense,  but  also  an  organ  of  relation  and  of  adaptation  with  the 
exterior  world  whose  existence  they  ignored  —  fell  into  complete 
idealism.  They  arrived  at  the  absolute  negation  of  frontiers,  at 
universal  equality  and  fraternity,  as  though  all  barriers,  all 
inequalities,  not  merely  physical  and  ethnical,  but  social,  had  com- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  73 

pletely  disappeared,  or  at  least  were  about  to  vanish.  But,  in 
spite  of  the  increasing  equality  of  purely  civic  and  political  con- 
ditions, under  the  leveling  influence  of  the  same  imperial  system, 
the  real  limits  between  classes  and  interests  had  perhaps  never 
been  more  pronounced.  Nor  had  the  social  organization  been 
more  highly  differentiated,  and  hence  necessarily  limited  in  each 
of  its  functions  by  coexistent  institutions  and  forms.  And  every- 
where, from  the  stage  of  simple  associations,  corporations  of 
laborers,  up  to  the  formation  of  powerful  commercial  and  finan- 
cial societies  and  of  various  colleges,  religious,  political,  and 
others,  the  whole  internal  social  structure  was  in  the  aggregate 
firmly  closed  and  organized  in  elaborate  gradations.  Only  the 
torpid  feudal  and  Catholic  Middle  Age,  and  then  the  later  con- 
stitution of  absolute  monarchies,  could  suffice  to  bring  attention 
back  to  the  stem  reality,  the  appreciation  of  which  Stoicism  and 
then  primitive  Christianity  had  lost,  while  their  moral  ideal, 
although  high,  was  fatally  lacking  in  positive  content. 

Already  with  Diogenes,  when  the  Greek  city  was  founded  in 
the  empire  of  Alexander,  the  school  of  the  Cynics  had  ignored 
patriotism.  The  Epicureans  were  also  uninterested  in  public 
affairs.  Man  was  to  them  a  citizen  of  the  universe.  He  did  not 
cast  his  lot  with  any  definite  social  gproup.  Diogenes  boasted  of 
having  no  rights  of  citizenship.  Crates  extended  this  cosmo- 
politan individualism  to  every  community,  even  that  of  thought. 
His  country  was  in  the  contempt  of  the  vulgar  human  mass.  The 
super-man  is  not  an  invention  of  our  century.  The  theory  is 
formulated  especially  in  the  Stoic  philosophy,  which  thus  became 
a  philosophy  or  general  conception  of  the  social  world.  Man 
supplants  the  citizen.  Seneca,  Plutarch,  Marcus  Aurelius,  Zeno, 
have  for  their  country  the  world.  All  men,  including  slaves, 
descend  from  the  same  god,  all  are  brothers,  according  to  Epic- 
tetus.  It  was  a  general  mollifying  of  the  ancient  law  of  the 
classes.  Christianity  was  the  product  of  this  dissolution  of 
ancient  institutions  and  beliefs.  It  was  communistic,  and  in  this 
sense  it  represents  a  remarkable  effort  to  articulate  the  new  moral 
and  social  conception  with  a  superior  economic  law.  But  its  fra- 
ternal idealism  presently  clothed  itself  with  an  authoritative  form 


74  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

at  first  moral,  then  more  and  more  temporal.  It  had  to  adapt 
itself  to  the  social  environment.  It  submitted  little  by  little  to 
authorities,  up  to  the  day  when,  having  itself  become  powerful,  it 
became  Catholicism.  Then  also  it  proved  not  only  that  the  fron- 
tiers of  a  belief  may  be  more  extended  than  the  bounds  of  the 
temporal  sovereignty  of  the  chief  of  this  faith,  but  that  they  may 
extend  beyond  the  frontiers  of  a  considerable  number  of  separate 
political  sovereignties.  What  was  proved  in  that  case  for  religion 
will  be  proved  later  in  a  universal  measure  for  science,  and  at  last 
for  the  world-economy  which  is  destined  to  be  the  effective  and 
secure  basis  of  that  unity  which  neither  empires  nor  religions  can 
realize — the  principle  of  authority  being  too  feeble  to  serve  as 
bond  of  union  for  the  infinite  variety  of  forms  and  of  functions 
which  the  republic  of  the  human  race  presupposes. 

[To  be  continued] 


THE  RELATION  OF  MUNICIPAL  GOVERNMENT  TO 
AMERICAN  DEMOCRATIC  IDEALS 


L.  S.  ROWE 
Professor  of  Political  Science,  University  of  Pennsylvania 


John  Stuart  Mill  opens  his  discussion  of  Representative  Gov- 
ernment with  the  remark  that  government 

by  some  minds  is  conceived  as  strictly  a  practical. art,  giving  rise  to  no  ques- 
tions but  those  of  means  and  an  end.  Forms  of  government  are  assimilated 
to  any  other  expedients  for  the  attainment  of  human  objects.  They  are 
regarded  as  wholly  an  affair  of  invention  and  contrivance.  Being  made  by 
man,  it  is  assumed  that  man  has  the  choice  either  to  make  them  or  not,  and 
how  or  on  what  pattern  they  shall  be  made.  Government,  according  to  this 
conception,  is  a  problem  to  be  worked  like  any  other  questions  of  business. 

Mill  here  expresses  a  view  which  still  dominates  modern  political 
thought,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  philosophy  of  which  it  is  the 
expression  has  long  been  outgrown  in  the  study  of  institutions 
other  than  political.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that,  while  the  doctrine  of 
evolution,  with  its  leading  principle  of  the  adaptation  of  form  to 
function,  has  profoundly  influenced  our  reasoning  on  all  matters 
pertaining  to  social  relations,  it  has  failed  to  overcome  the  influ- 
ence of  tradition  upon  our  political  thinking.  We  still  deal  with 
political  phenomena  as  if  governmental  organization  could  be 
made,  unmade,  and  remade  without  reference  either  to  industrial 
conditions  or  to  the  special  problems  with  which  government  has 
to  deal.  The  principal  effect  and  the  immediate  danger  of  this 
attitude  toward  questions  of  civil  government  are  that  our  reason- 
ing on  political  affairs  is  usually  "  in  harmony  with  what  we 
want,  rather  than  with  the  conditions  and  problems  which  gov- 
ernment has  to  face."  The  history  of  city  government  in  the 
United  States  presents  a  peculiar  interest  to  the  student  of  politics, 
because  it  illustrates  so  clearly  these  general  principles. 

The  formative  period  in  the  development  of  our  American 
cities  was  dominated  by  an  essentially  negative  view  of  govem- 

75 


76  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ment.  During  the  eighteenth  and  the  greater  part  of  the  nine- 
teenth centuries  American  political  thought  was  concerned 
primarily,  in  fact  almost  exclusively,  with  the  protection  of  indi- 
vidual rights.  A  minimum  of  government  and  a  maximum  of 
individual  liberty  represented  the  primary  standards  of  political 
thought  and  action.  From  our  present  perspective  we  can  appre- 
ciate the  great  service  rendered  by  these  essentially  negative 
political  ideas.  They  strengthened  that  feeling  of  personal 
responsibility  and  initiative  which  has  contributed  so  much 
toward  our  industrial  development  and  served  to  maintain 
that  alertness  to  possible  encroachment  upon  the  domain  of  indi- 
vidual liberty  which  has  been  the  admiration  and  envy  of  the 
people  of  continental  Europe.  Furthermore,  the  restriction  of 
government  activity  to  the  protection  of  person  and  property,  and 
the  care  of  the  dependent,  defective,  and  delinquent  classes, 
enabled  the  country  to  train  the  electorate  at  a  time  when  the  func- 
tions of  government  were  few  and  the  possibilities  of  harm 
due  to  inexperience  reduced  to  a  minimum.  Local  government 
was  then  looked  upon  as  the  cradle  of  American  liberties  and 
as  the  bulwark  against  the  possible  tyranny  of  the  state  and  federal 
governments ;  it  was  expected  to  preserve  and  foster  a  feeling  of 
opposition  toward  ciny  extension  of  the  positive  action  of  govern- 
ment. 

Viewed  in  the  perspective  of  the  last  hundred  years,  the  con- 
trast between  the  conditions  out  of  which  our  ideas  of  local  gov- 
ernment developed  and  the  circumstances  which  now  confront  us, 
is  fraught  with  lessons  which  we  cannot  afiford  to  ignore  if  we 
hope  to  build  up  vigorous  local  institutions.  The  menace  to  indi- 
vidual liberty  from  the  tyranny  of  government  is  no  longer  a 
real  one,  and  to  this  extent,*  therefore,  the  justification  for  the 
essentially  negative  prevailing  views  of  government  has  dis- 
appeared. On  the  other  hand,  the  concentration  of  population 
and  the  growth  of  great  industrial  centers  have  brought  into  the 
foreground  a  mass  of  new  problems  which  the  community  is  com- 
pelled to  face.  Many  of  them  come  directly  within  the  legitimate 
sphere  of  government,  but  so  strong  is  the  hold  of  the  political 
ideas  of  the  eighteenth  century  that  in  most  of  our  cities  we  must 


MUNICIPAL  GOVERNMENT  AND  DEMOCRA  TIC  IDEALS      77 

depend  upon  private  effort  for  their  solution.  The  widening  gap 
between  the  life  of  the  community  and  the  activities  of  our  city- 
governments  is  impressing  itself  on  every  student  of  American 
city  life.  The  first  step  in  the  development  of  greater  civic  vigor 
is  a  method  of  bridging  this  gap  which  shall  include,  primarily, 
such  an  extension  of  municipal  functions  that  the  community  will 
be  enabled  to  grapple  with  the  problems  which  cannot  be  solved 
without  organized  action ;  and,  secondly,  such  a  readjustment  of 
the  machinery  of  government  that  positive  action  will  be  fostered, 
rather  than  being  made  increasingly  difficult,  as  it  is  under  our 
present  system.  The  ideas  of  governmental  organization  which 
we  have  borrowed  from  an  earlier  period,  and  which  have  worked 
great  good  as  applied  to  our  state  and  federal  governments,  are  no 
longer  applicable  to  the  conditions  that  prevail  in  our  cities. 

If  we  examine  the  history  of  city  government  during  the  last 
fifty  years,  we  find  that  slowly  and  with  great  reluctance  we  are 
beginning  to  acknowledge,  in  fact  if  not  in  theory,  that  the 
political  ideas  which  have  dominated  our  political  thinking  for 
more  than  a  century  are  no  longer  adequate  to  meet  the  complex 
conditions  of  modern  city  life.  We  continue  to  reason  as  if  the 
political  principles  of  the  eighteenth  century  had  lost  none  of 
their  force,  but  the  pressure  of  circumstances  has  nevertheless 
forced  us  to  make  certain  compromises,  the  full  import  of  which 
we  have  hardly  begun  to  realize. 

Our  inherited  notions  of  democratic  government  have  dictated 
a  form  of  city  organization  in  which  the  local  representative 
assembly  or  city  council  occupies  an  important  position.  The 
same  political  traditions  dictate  that  the  higher  administrative 
officials  of  the  city,  no  matter  what  their  functions,  shall  be 
chosen  by  popular  election.  It  is  a  significant  fact  that  this  tena- 
cious adherence  to  what  we  regard  as  the  essentials  of  democracy 
has  been  contemporaneous  with  a  totally  different  movement  in 
other  branches  of  administrative  activity.  The  management  of 
great  business  enterprises  is  being  concentrated  in  the  executive 
heads  of  industrial  corporations.  The  responsibility  for  the  con- 
duct of  the  affairs  of  educational  and  charitable  institutions  is 
likewise  drifting  from  the  board  to  the  single  executive  head. 


78  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Even  in  the  management  of  the  affairs  of  the  church  this  tendency 
toward  the  concentration  of  executive  power  is  distinctly  apparent. 
Wherever  the  form  of  board  management  is  still  preserved,  the 
actual  control  and  responsibility  is  vested  in  one  individual, 
whether  he  be  called  the  president  of  the  board  or  the  chairman 
of  the  executive  committee.  However  we  may  regard  this  tend- 
ency, there  is  every  indication  that  it  is  not  merely  a  passing 
phase,  but  that  the  immediate  future  will  witness  a  strengthening 
of  its  influence. 

It  should  not  require  lengthy  argument  to  prove  that  tenden- 
cies which  are  so  clearly  marked  in  American  business  and 
institutional  activity  are  certain  to  exert  an  influence  on  the 
administration  of  public  affairs.  We  cannot  hope  permanently 
to  preserve  the  illusion  that  by  some  occult  force  political  organi- 
zation can  be  kept  free  from  the  influences  which  are  dominant 
in  every  other  department  of  our  national  life. 

If  this  concentration  of  power  in  the  mayor  represents  a  per- 
manent tendency  in  American  administrative  policy,  the  question 
immediately  presents  itself  whether  we  can  reconcile  these  changes 
with  our  views  of  democracy.  No  one  will  deny  that  the  increase 
of  executive  power,  as  well  as  its  concentration,  has  been  accom- 
panied by  a  marked  increase,  in  efiiciency.  The  choice  presented 
to  our  American  communities,  therefore,  takes  the  form  of  an 
apparent  opposition  between  democracy  and  efiiciency.  Thus  pre- 
sented, there  is  little  doubt  as  to  the  ultimate  choice  of  the  Ameri- 
can people.  Above  all  other  peoples  of  western  civilization,  we 
are  worshipers  of  efficiency.  The  establishment,  therefore,  of  a 
harmonious  relation  between  democracy  and  efiiciency,  both  in 
thought  and  in  action,  becomes  a  necessary  requisite  for  the  main- 
tenance of  those  institutions  which  we  are  accustomed  to  regard 
as  the  distinctive  products  of  our  American  civilization. 

If  this  analysis  of  the  present  situation  be  correct,  the  outlook 
for  the  municipal  council  is  anything  but  encouraging.  The 
analogy  between  a  business  and  a  municipal  corporation,  while 
faulty  in  many  respects,  is  of  real  value  when  viewed  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  organization  of  city  departments.  Whether  or 
not  we  agree  with  this  analogy,  we  cannot  disregard  the  fact  that 


MUNICIPAL  GOVERNMENT  AND  DEMOCRATIC  IDEALS      79 

the  popular  view  with  reference  to  the  administration  of  the  city's 
executive  departments  is  moving  toward  the  standards  which  have 
proved  so  successful  in  the  management  of  great  corporate  enter- 
prises. This  means  that  the  people  are  prepared  to  accept  the 
same  administrative  standards  in  municipal  affairs  as  those  which 
prevail  in  the  business  world.  The  recent  proposal  to  give  to  the 
police  commissioner  of  New  York  a  term  of  ten  years,  or  possibly 
a  life  tenure,  would  have  been  received  with  scorn  and  indignation 
fifty  years  ago.  Today  it  is  regarded  by  many  as  the  best  means 
of  securing  an  efficient  administration  of  this  service. 

Similarly,  the  increasing  limitations  on  the  powers  of  the 
municipal  council  are  not  due  to  any  decline  in  the  character  of  its 
membership,  but  rather  to  a  growing  appreciation  of  the  difficulty, 
if  not  the  impossibility,  of  enforcing  responsibility  against  a  large 
assembly.  The  repeated  failure  of  the  effort  to  enforce  such 
responsibility  is  accountable  for  the  steady  decline  of  popular 
interest  in  the  work  of  the  council. 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that,  even  in  those  cities  in  which  years 
of  effort  have  finally  secured  an  improvement  in  the  character  of 
the  men  serving  in  the  local  legislative  body,  the  improvement  in 
the  administrative  service  is  in  no  sense  commensurate  with  the 
amount  of  effort  thus  expended.  The  vital  interest  of  the  citizens 
is  in  strengthening  the  administrative  service  rather  than  the 
legislative  body.  The  gradual  appreciation  of  this  fact  has  led  to 
the  transference  of  what  were  formerly  regarded  as  legislative 
functions  to  administrative  officers.  Although  the  movement  is  by 
no  means  uniform,  the  general  trend  of  institutional  development 
in  this  country  is  to  reduce  the  power  of  the  council  to  a  control 
over  finances,  and  by  means  of  constitutional  and  statutory  limita- 
tions to  set  definite  limits  even  to  this  control.  The  council  is 
gradually  assuming  the  position  of  an  organ  of  government  whose 
function  is  to  prevent  the  extravagant  or  unwise  expenditure  of 
public  funds.  It  is  thus  rapidly  becoming  a  negative  factor  in  our 
municipal  system.  To  an  increasing  extent  the  American  people 
are  looking  to  the  executive,  not  only  for  the  execution,  but  also 
for  the  planning  of  municipal  improvements.  Even  the  freedom 
of  discussion  in  the  council  is  being  subjected  to  statutory  limita- 


8o  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tions  by  provisions  requiring  that  the  vote  on  financial  and  fran- 
chise questions  shall  not  be  delayed  beyond  a  certain  period. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  this  decline  in  the  power  of  the 
council  involves  a  loss  of  popular  control.  In  every  city  in  which 
the  mayor  has  been  given  independent  powers  of  appointment  and 
has  been  made  the  real  head  of  the  administrative  organization 
of  the  city,  the  sensitiveness  of  the  government  to  public  opinion 
has  been  considerably  increased.  When  rightly  viewed,  the 
change  involves  possibilities  of  popular  control  which  we  have 
hardly  begun  to  realize.  Almost  every  city  in  the  country  offers 
a  number  of  instances  in  which  the  mayor,  when  supported  by 
popular  opinion,  has  been  able  to  withstand  the  combined  influ- 
ence of  the  council  and  any  machine  organization  that  attempted 
to  direct  his  action.  The  lessons  of  this  experience  have  left  their 
impress  upon  the  political  thinking  of  the  American  people  and 
explain  the  tendency  to  look  to  the  executive  rather  than  to  the 
legislative  authority  for  the  solution  of  every  difficulty.  Popular 
control  over  the  city  government  will  become  more  effective  as 
public  opinion  becomes  more  thoroughly  organized.  At  present 
we  must  depend  upon  a  great  number  of  voluntary  organizations 
representing  different  elements  in  the  community,  but  which  can- 
not, from  the  nature  of  the  case,  represent  the  opinion  of  the  com- 
munity as  a  whole. 

The  danger  involved  in  this  tendency  toward  the  concentration 
of  executive  power  is  that  the  council  will  be  shorn,  not  only  of  its 
administrative,  but  of  its  legislative  powers,  as  well.  The  desire 
for  greater  administrative  efficiency  may  lead  us  to  a  type  of 
government  in  which  the  determination  of  executive  policy  will 
be  left  exclusively  to  the  mayor  and  his  heads  of  departments. 
This  form  of  organization  is  certain  to  give  us  better  government 
than  our  present  large  and  unwieldy  council.  The  accumulated 
experience  of  American  cities  has  shown  that,  unless  the  council  is 
reduced  to  a  single  chamber  with  a  small  membership,  responsi- 
bility cannot  be  enforced.  The  choice  that  presents  itself  is  clear 
and  simple.  We  must  either  make  the  council  a  small  body  of 
nine  or  eleven  members,  elected  by  the  people,  having  complete 
power  over  the  finances  of  the  city,  or  we  shall  inevitably  drift 


MUNICIPAL  GO  VERNMENT  AND  DEMOCRA TIC  IDEALS      8 1 

toward  a  system  in  which  the  council  will  disappear  and  all  power 
will  be  lodged  in  the  mayor  and  his  heads  of  departments. 

The  reconciliation  of  the  idea  of  popular  government  with  the 
concentration  of  executive  power  represents  the  first  step  toward  a 
better  adjustment  of  our  political  thinking  to  the  conditions  of 
city  life.  A  second  and  no  less  important  step  involves  some  fur- 
ther modifications  in  our  ideas  of  municipal  organization. 
American  cities  are  organized  as  if  they  were  the  small  towns  and 
villages  of  fifty  years  ago.  We  have  proceeded  on  the  assumption 
that  an  aggressive  and  progressive  municipal  policy  can  be 
developed  out  of  the  compromise  of  conflicting  district  interests. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  our  present  plan  of  district  representation 
clogs  positive  action  and  prevents  the  systematic  planning  and 
economical  execution  of  great  public  improvements. 

Placing  the  mayor  as  a  check  upon  the  council,  and  the  coun- 
cil as  a  check  upon  the  mayor,  has  served,  furthermore,  to 
strengthen  that  most  baneful  of  political  superstitions  —  the  belief 
in  a  self-acting  governmental  mechanism  which  will  carry  on  the 
work  of  government  without  the  need  of  watchfulness  and  alert- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  people.  For  every  evil,  no  matter  what  its 
nature,  we  recur  to  the  statute  book.  There  is  a  widespread  belief 
throughout  the  country  that  for  every  abuse  there  is  a  legislative 
remedy.  This  belief  in  the  moralizing  power  of  law  is  one  of  the 
most  insidious  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  corrupting  influences  in 
our  public  life.  It  leads  us  to  place  unenforceable  laws  on  the 
statute  books,  and  the  disregard  of  these  laws  becomes  the  instru- 
ment of  blackmail  and  bribery.  The  same  political  superstition 
pervades  the  organization  of  our  city  governments  —  to  construct 
a  self-acting  mechanism  which  will  secure  honesty  and  guarantee 
efficient  administration.  By  pitting  the  executive  against  the  legis- 
lative authority,  by  electing  one  official  to  exercise  control  over 
another,  and  by  making  official  terms  as  short  as  possible,  we  have 
beguiled  ourselves  with  the  illusion  that  it  is  possible  to  construct 
a  mechanism  of  government  which  only  requires  the  attention  of 
the  citizen  body  at  stated  election  periods.  It  is  not  surprising 
that  this  search  for  a  self-acting  governmental  machine  has  proved 
fruitless,  for  it  represents  an  attempt  to  relieve  ourselves  of  a 


82  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

responsibility  which  we  cannot  throw  off.  The  complexity  of 
organization  that  has  resulted  from  this  attempt  to  secure  effi- 
ciency and  honesty  through  statutes  rather  than  through  men  has 
done  more  than  any  other  influence  to  retard  municipal  progress. 

The  problem  presented  by  city  government  in  the  United 
States  is  not  merely  to  construct  a  well-balanced  mechanism  of 
government,  but  so  to  construct  that  government  that  it  will 
require  the  alertness  and  watchfulness  of  the  people.  The  situa- 
tion in  Philadelphia  is  an  instructive  instance  of  the  effect  of  so 
organizing  the  government  as  to  leave  the  people  under  the 
impression  that  the  officials  are  sufficiently  encompassed  with 
statutory  limitations  to  have  little  power  for  evil.  With  a 
bicameral  council,  a  mayor  whose  appointments  are  subject  to  the 
approval  of  the  upper  branch  of  the  local  legislative  body,  and 
such  important  services  as  the  control  of  education  vested  in  a 
board  appointed  by  the  local  judiciary,  authority  is  split  to  such  an 
extent  that  the  people  believe  that  no  one  official  or  group  of 
officials  enjoys  sufficient  power  to  work  much  harm.  We  fail  to 
appreciate  the  fact  that  this  splitting  of  authority  means  that  har- 
mony can  be  secured  only  by  gathering  these  loose  threads  in  the 
hands  of  some  person  or  group  of  persons  who,  while  not  officially 
recognized  in  the  organization  of  government,  exercise  the  real 
governmental  power. 

If  the  foregoing  discussion  has  served  any  purpose,  it  has 
shown  that  industrial  and  social  organization  in  the  United  States 
is  tending  toward  an  increasing  concentration  of  executive  and 
administrative  power,  and  that  this  movement  has  been  accom- 
panied by  a  corresponding  increase  in  efficiency.  In  the  organiza- 
tion of  our  municipalities  the  fear  of  absolutism  has  led  us  to  offer 
considerable  resistance  to  a  plan  of  organization  whose  value  is  no 
longer  questioned  in  other  departments  of  organized  effort.  The 
partial  and  unwilling  recognition  of  this  principle  has  led  to  a 
series  of  makeshifts  which  have  failed  to  give  satisfactory  results. 
Instead  of  giving  the  mayor  complete  control  over  the  administra- 
tive work  of  the  city,  we  have,  in  most  cases,  hampered  his  powers 
of  appointment,  making  them  subject  to  the  approval  of  the 
council.     The  unfortunate  compromises  which  this  system  has 


MUNICIPAL  GOVERNMENT  AND  DEMOCRA TIC  IDEALS       83 

compelled  the  mayor  to  make,  have  been  laid  at  the  door  of  the 
council,  and  have  served  further  to  weaken  its  hold  on  the 
people.  If  this  feeling  continues  to  increase  in  intensity,  it  is 
likely  to  carry  us  to  a  form  of  city  government  in  which  the  mayor 
and  the  heads  of  executive  departments  will  exercise,  not  only  the 
administrative,  but  also  the  legislative  functions  of  the  munici- 
pality. 

The  council,  if  restricted  to  distinctly  legislative  functions, 
may  continue  to  be  an  important  organ  in  keeping  the  government 
of  the  city  in  close  touch  with  the  people,  and  in  keeping  the  people 
in  close  touch  with  city  affairs.  Under  our  present  plan  of  organi- 
zation this  is  impossible,  because  the  participation  of  the  council 
in  the  exercise  of  executive  functions  leads  it  to  bend  its  energies 
to  control  the  executive  rather  than  to  deal  with  broader  questions 
of  municipal  policy. 

The  alternative  that  presents  itself  to  the  American  people  is 
clear  and  distinct.  If  we  wish  to  preserve  the  council,  we  must  be 
prepared  to  make  three  changes :  first,  to  deprive  it  of  all  partici- 
pation in  the  appointment  of  executive  officials;  secondly,  to 
transform  it  from  a  bicameral  organization  to  a  single  chamber; 
and,  thirdly,  to  reduce  its  membership.  Unless  we  are  prepared 
to  make  these  changes,  it  is  safe  to  predict  that  we  shall  gradually 
move  toward  a  system  in  which  both  executive  and  legislative 
powers  will  be  vested  in  the  mayor  and  the  heads  of  executive 
departments. 

We  need  not  shrink  from  giving  to  the  mayor  greater  execu- 
tive powers,  if  by  so  doing  we  can  save  the  council.  It  is  impor- 
tant for  those  who  are  interested  in  the  betterment  of  city 
government  to  realize  that,  while  in  the  organization  of  govern- 
ment all  kinds  of  compromises  may  be  attempted,  the  actual  opera- 
tion of  any  system  is  determined  by  deep  underlying  forces  over 
which  the  individual  has  but  little  control.  The  compromises  that 
have  been  dictated  by  our  unwillingness  to  accept  the  consequences 
of  certain  fundamental  canons  of  political  organization  have 
placed  our  city  governments  at  the  mercy  of  a  small  gfroup  of  men 
who  understand  these  principles  more  clearly  than  we,  and  who 
are  able  to  manipulate  this  organization  for  their  own  ends. 


84  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  traditional  fear  of  absolutism  need  not  deter  us  from 
making  the  mayor  the  real  executive  head  of  the  city  government. 
Correctly  mterpreted,  this  plan  offers  possibilities  of  popular  con- 
trol which  our  present  system  lacks.  At  all  events,  it  is  well  for 
us  to  understand  that  the  demand  for  efficiency,  which  the  Ameri- 
can people  place  above  their  desire  for  democratic  rule,  will  inevit- 
ably lead  to  this  concentration  of  executive  power.  The  real 
alternative  that  presents  itself  is,  therefore,  whether  this  concen- 
tration of  power  will  be  accompanied  by  the  destruction  of  the  city 
council,  or  whether  the  city  council  will  survive  as  an  organ  of 
government  restricted  to  purely  legislative  functions. 


SOCIOLOGY  IN  SOME  OF  ITS  EDUCATIONAL 
ASPECTS  1 


V.  V.  BRANFORD,  ESQ. 
Secretary  of  the  Sociological  Society,  London 


The  establishment  of  sociological  studies,  especially  in  France, 
Italy,  and  America,  was  one  of  the  outstanding  culture  advances 
of  the  last  two  or  three  decades  of  the  nineteenth  century.  As 
part  of  this  general  movement  toward  a  science  of  social  phe- 
nomena may  be  counted  the  formation  of  the  Sociological  Society 
in  Great  Britain,  in  1903.  This  country,  as  J.  S.  Mill  pointed  out, 
is  habitually  late  in  perception  of,  and  response  to,  general  move- 
ments of  thought.  Sociologically  considered,  British  leadership, 
long  maintained  in  economic  teaching  and  investigation,  has  been 
the  undesigned  cultural  reflex  of  the  contemporary  industrial 
evolution.  British  emphasis  of  economic  science  embodies  and 
expresses  the  speculative  and  educational  aspects  of  the  industrial 
revolution.  National  development  of  coal  fields  and  iron  fields 
has  of  necessity  its  corresponding  points  of  view  and  modes  of 
thought  in  university,  school,  and  press.  Hence  the  belief,  wide- 
spread both  in  popular  and  scientific  circles,  that  economic  science 
may  be  made  to  cover  the  whole  social  field  with  an  elastic  reser- 
vation for  ethics  and  religion.  This  restriction  of  sociological 
science  has  seldom  been  explicit,  but  it  has  to  a  considerable  extent 
limited  the  teaching  of  sociology.  Against  this  national  tendency 
to  narrow  the  sociological  field,  protests  and  counter-movements 
have  ceaselessly  gone  on.  Chief  among  advocates  and  exponents 
of  the  larger  sociological  interests  have  been,  in  science,  Spencer ; 
and  in  literature  and  journalism,  Ruskin.  But  in  respect  of 
corresponding  movements  in  education  only  two  instances  can  be 
noted  here,  as  main  sources  of  impulse  toward  the  formation  of 
the  Sociological  Society.  Needless  to  say  both  are  extra-academic 
initiatives.    In  Edinburgh  a  broad  conception  of  social  science,  as 

*  Written  for  the  forthcoming  Encyclopedia  of  Education. 

85 


86  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

having  not  only  the  dominant  economic  approach,  but  many 
correlative  ones,  survives  from  the  time  of  David  Hume  and 
Adam  Smith,  Ferguson  and  Miller,  Robertson  and  Kames.  Con- 
tinuing this,  and  also  the  Scottish  tradition  of  intercourse  with 
continental  thought,  Professor  Geddes  began  in  Edinburgh,  about 
1880,  sociological  teaching,  which  has  since  grown  into  an  extra- 
mural school  of  sociology.  Its  record  of  publication  is  not  con- 
siderable, but  its  efforts  have  been  rather  directed  to  a  combina- 
tion of  speculative  and  practical  work,  sociological  observation 
and  research  being  considered  as  theoretical  activities,  which  have 
been  given  their  full  cultural  value  only  when  conjoined  with 
practical  efforts  toward  social  progress,  either  urban  or  rural. 
Hence  the  usefulness  and  productivity  of  this  school,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  education  and  hygiene,  housing  and  art;  in  a  word,  by 
civic  rather  than  literary  activities.  Its  aim  in  science,  and  its 
policy  in  education,  are  alike  summed  up  in  Professor  Geddes' 
phrase  "  social  survey  for  social  service."  This  is  well  seen  in  its 
characteristic  achievement  on  the  educational  side  —  the  "Out- 
look Tower,"  a  sociological  station  described  by  Professor 
Zueblin  as  "  The  World's  First  Sociological  Laboratory,"  in  the 
American  Journal  of  Sociology,  March,  1899.  Some  of  the  main 
ideas  inspiring  the  origin  and  designing  of  the  Outlook  Tower 
are: 

1.  Sociology,  like  all  other  sciences,  must  be  based  on  factual 
observations,  methodically  made,  systematically  arranged,  and 
generalized  by  the  aid  of  verifiable  hypotheses. 

2.  The  student's  observations  may  best  begin  with  field 
investigation  of  the  facts  of  his  own  region ;  and  for  this  he  must 
utilize  the  resources  of  the  preliminary  sciences,  commencing  with 
those  of  geography,  passing  on  through  the  physical  and  the 
biological  sciences,  and  finally  calling  in  the  aid  of  the  several 
social  specialisms,  economic  and  other.  From  this  "regional 
survey  "  of  his  immediate  environment  the  student  passes  on  to  a 
comparative  study  of  his  own  and  other  regional  units,  of  city 
and  province,  nation  and  empire,  language  and  civilization,  till 
the  expanding  area  of  observation  and  study  covers  the  globe. 

3.  Observation  of  contemporary  social  phenomena  soon  leads 


EDUCATIONAL  ASPECTS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  87 

to  the  recognition  of  changes  especially  when  based  on  the  com- 
parative study  of  region  by  region.  To  interpret  these  current 
events,  the  resources  of  historical  specialisms  and  the  general 
history  of  civilization  have  alike  to  be  utilized;  contemporary 
social  phenomena  being  largely  survivals  and  recapitulations  of 
past  historical  developments.  But  while  preliminary  studies  in 
geography  begin  with  a  survey  of  a  particular  region,  and  ascend 
to  a  general  view  of  the  world-theater  of  mankind,  the  corre- 
sponding historical  preparation  of  the  sociologist  essentially  pro- 
ceeds in  the  reverse  order,  the  student  using  the  general  history 
of  mankind  to  interpret  the  particular  history  of  his  own  region. 
Its  industry  and  art,  its  politics  and  religion,  its  education  and 
custom,  being  thus  viewed  as  parts  of  a  general  evolutionary 
process,  the  possibilities  of  its  modification  by  conscious  human 
endeavor  next  present  themselves  to  the  student,  who  thus  passes 
by  a  natural  transition  from  pure  to  applied  sociology,  from 
science  to  art,  from  social  survey  to  social  service.  From  this 
point  of  view,  every  individual  type,  every  social  institution, 
industrial  and  political,  educational  and  religious,  is  seen  as  an 
empirical  racial  experiment  toward  a  certain  social  ideal,  though 
this  may  be  but  obscurely  known  to  the  participating  individuals. 
Given,  however,  such  evolutionary  ideals,  the  transition  from 
empirical  to  rational  (i.  e.,  scientific)  experiment  in 'social  evolu- 
tion is  inevitable.  The  history  of  every  branch  of  science  shows, 
at  a  certain  stage  of  its  development,  the  emergence,  not  only  of 
observational,  but  of  experimental  institutes ;  in  fact,  laboratories, 
in  which  the  conditions  of  rational  experiment  are  thought  out 
and  organized.  It  is  thus  the  practical  endeavor  of  the  Outlook 
Tower  to  work  toward  the  beginnings  of  such  departures  in 
sociological  science,  upon  civic  and  even  wider  levels.^ 

The  Lx)ndon  movement  has  a  different  origin,  developing  out 
of  the  unique  environment  of  the  metropolis.  Of  all  cities, 
London  exhibits  the  wealthiest  and  most  luxurious  aggregation 
of  the  leisure  class  and  at  the  same  time  herds  within  itself  what 
is  probably  the  vastest  mass  of  poverty,  disease,  lunacy,  vice,  and 
crime  ever  accumulated  on  a  like  area.    The  social  problems  thus 

*  Geddes,  City  Development  (Edinburgh,   1904). 


88  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

presented  to  an  enlightened  philanthropy  evoked  the  charity- 
organization  movement,  with  its  manifold  ramifications  of  dis- 
trict committees,  and  local  visitors  and  helpers.  Primarily  for 
the  sociological  instruction  of  these,  but  also  for  utilizing  the 
sources  of  social  observation  thus  opened  up,  Professor  C.  S.  Loch 
inaugurated  lectures,  teaching,  and  research  work,  which  have 
grown  into  an  organized  "  School  of  Sociology  and  Social  Eco- 
nomics." This,  under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  E.  J.  Urwick,  has 
specialized  in  aim,  on  problems  of  poverty  and,  in  method,  on 
field  observation  and  tutorial  instruction;  but  at  the  same  time 
the  school  is  organized  for  imparting  a  sociological  training  to 
all  who  are  concerned  with  civic  problems,  whether  in  a  purely 
administrative  way  or  on  the  side  of  scientific  observation,  philan- 
thropic work,  religious  and  educative  effort,  or  political  endeavor. 
Coincidently  with  the  formation  of  the  Sociological  Society,  a 
beginning  was  made  of  specifically  sociological  teaching  inside  the 
universities.  To  inaugurate  this,  a  fund  was  placed  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  London  University  by  Mr.  J.  Martin  White,  one  of 
the  founders  of  the  Sociological  Society.  To  superintend  the 
experiment,  a  Sociological  Committee  of  the  Senate  has  been 
formed,  whose  deliberations  are  assisted  by  representatives  of 
several  extra-mural  sociological  interests.  Under  the  scheme 
thus  set  on  foot,  lectures  are  being  given,  and  postgraduate 
research  is  being  carried  on,  so  that  a  strong  university  school  of 
sociology  promises  to  result.  The  courses  already  given  include 
"  Civics  "  by  Professor  Geddes,  "  Anthropology  "  by  Dr.  Haddon, 
"  Social  Institutions "  by  Dr.  Westermarck,  and  "  Comparative 
Ethics"  by  Mr.  L.  T.  Hobhouse  —  this  last  being  part  of  the 
work  of  the  Sociological  Society.  Following  on  this  initiative, 
there  has  been  inaugfurated  a  further  development  of  sociological 
investigation  by  the  donation  of  funds  to  the  University  of  Lon- 
don, by  Mr.  Francis  Galton,  for  the  establishment  of  a  Research 
Fellowship  in  National  Eugenics.  Mr.  Galton's  long-continued 
researches  toward  the  establishment  of  eugenics  —  in  literal  Eng- 
lish, good  breeding — as  a  branch  of  applied  science,  were  resumed 
in  a  paper  he  read  to  the  Sociological  Society  during  its  first  ses- 
sion now  published  in  the  society's  Sociological  Papers,  Vol.  I 


EDUCATIONAL  ASPECTS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  89 

(Macmillan,  1905).  The  first  president  of  the  society  was  Mr. 
James  Bryce;  and  among  those  who  have  already  contributed 
papers  to  the  society,  or  taken  part  in  its  discussions,  are,  in  addi- 
tion to  Mr.  Galton,  Mr.  Bateson,  Mr.  Charles  Booth,  Professor 
Bosanquet,  Dr.  J.  H.  Bridges,  Dr.  Beattie  Crozier,  Professor 
Durkheim,  Professor  Geddes,  Professor  Hoffding,  Mr.  L.  T. 
Hobhouse,  Mr.  J.  A.  Hobson,  Mr.  T.  C.  Horsfall,  Dr.  E. 
Hutchinson,  Mr.  Benjamin  Kidd,  Professor  Loria,  Dr.  Maudsley, 
Dr.  Mercier,  Professor  Muirhead,  Mr.  J.  M.  Robertson,  Professor 
Karl  Pearson,  Professor  Sadler,  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw,  Professor 
Sorley,  Mr.  H.  G.  Wells  and  Dr.  Westermarck.  It  will  be 
obvious,  from  the  representative  character  of  these  names,  that 
the  society  seeks  to  focus  on  the  social  problems,  knowledge 
derived  from  every  possible  source.  In  other  words,  it  is  the  aim 
of  the  society,  not  to  advocate  a  policy,  but  to  accumulate, 
organize,  and  integrate,  sociological  knowledge.* 

'  Information    about    the    society    may    be    obtained    on    application    to    the 
secretary,  s  Old  Queen  Street,  Westminster. 


CRIME  IN  RELATION  TO  THE  STATE  AND  TO 
MUNICIPALITIES 


EUGENE  SMITH,  ESQ. 
New  York  City 


The  federal  government  has  jurisdiction  in  the  case  of  crimes 
committed  against  the  United  States,  but  this  jurisdiction  is 
wholly  distinct  from  the  criminal  jurisdiction  vested  in  the  sev- 
eral states  of  the  Union,  With  this  federal  exception,  all  crimi- 
nal law  in  this  country  has  its  sole  source  and  authority  in  the 
sovereign  power  of  the  state.  The  state  is  territorially  divided 
into  counties  and  subdivided  into  towns,  cities  and  villages;  but 
all  these  local  subdivisions  are  created  by  the  state.  For  con- 
venience in  the  administration  of  government,  these  localized 
political  units  are  vested  with  certain  powers ;  still,  it  is  true  that 
all  the  powers  they  possess  are  granted  and  delegated  to  them 
by  the  central  sovereignty  of  the  state.  Thus  the  state  is  the 
fons  et  origo  of  all  criminal  as  well  as  of  all  civil  jurisdiction. 

This  supremacy  of  the  state  involves,  for  the  purposes  of 
the  present  discussion,  four  elements:  the  state  has  the  sole 
power  (i)  to  enact  all  criminal  laws;  (2)  to  enforce  those  laws 
by  the  detection  and  arrest  of  offenders;  (3)  to  try  judicially, 
and  to  convict  or  acquit,  persons  accused  of  crime;  and  (4)  to 
inflict  the  penalties  prescribed  by  law. 

All  these  powers  are  delegated  by  the  state,  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent,  to  the  counties  towns,  cities,  and  villages  (all  of 
which  are  comprised  under  the  term  "municipal  corporations," 
and  are  herein  designated  as  "municipalities");  and  it  is  the 
object  of  the  present  paper  to  discuss  the  question  to  what  extent 
such  delegation  of  power  is  necessary  and  proper,  and  to  deter- 
mine in  what  cases  the  power  ought  to  be,  not  delegated,  but 
exercised  by  the  state  itself.  The  four  powers  above  enumerated 
will  be  considered  separately  and  in  the  order  in  which  they  have 
been  stated. 

90 


CRIME  IN  STATE  AND  MUNICIPALITY  9 1 

CRIMINAL  LEGISLATION 

The  power  is  delegated  to  municipal  corporations  to  enact 
ordinances  and  regulations,  and  to  enforce  them  by  fines  and 
penalties.  These  ordinances  and  regulations  have  all  the  force 
of  law  and  as  their  violation  is  a  misdemeanor,  they  form  a  part 
of  the  body  of  criminal  law.  To  delegate  the  power  to  enact 
criminal  laws  may  seem,  prima  facie,  an  improper  and  dangerous 
transference  of  sovereignty.  The  municipal  power  thus  con- 
ferred, however,  is  strictly  limited  and  defined  by  statute.  There 
are  countless  subjects,  affecting  the  public  health  and  orderly 
living,  that  demand  regulation  in  accordance  with  the  varied 
circumstances  and  local  diversities  of  separate  communities ;  these 
subjects  cannot  be  adequately  covered  by  a  general  statute  of 
universal  application,  nor  can  they  be  wisely  treated  by  special 
statutes  relating  to  each  separate  community.  It  is  impossible 
for  the  state  legislature  to  act  with  that  accurate  knowledge  of 
the  local  needs  of  a  municipality  in  its  internal  life  which  the 
municipality  itself  possesses  and  which  is  the  essential  basis  of 
salutary  legislation.  "  Home  rule  "  for  municipalities  is  a  politi- 
cal principle  which  stands  in  no  danger  of  being  carried  to  excess, 
and  sound  government  demands  rather  its  extension  than  its 
repression.  Perhaps  the  strongest  argument  in  favor  of  it  rests 
in  its  tendency  to  increase  the  power  and  dignity  of  citizenship; 
by  intrusting  the  well-being  of  the  municipality  to  the  keeping 
of  its  own  citizens,  it  serves  to  develop  in  them  a  sense  of  indi- 
vidual responsibility  for  good  government,  an  intelligent  interest 
in  public  affairs,  and  a  conviction  of  civic  duty  —  sentiments 
which  a  strictly  paternal  government  by  the  state  tends  to 
deaden. 

DETECTION  AND  ARREST  OF  OFFENDERS 

The  detection  of  crime  and  the  arrest  of  persons  accused  of 
crime  are  delegated  almost  exclusively  to  the  municipalities.  A 
thorough  enforcement  of  the  laws  can  be  secured  only  through 
the  loyal  co-operation  of  the  whole  community.  It  needs,  not 
alone  a  public  opinion  in  favor  of  the  laws,  but  a  public  opinion 
which  imposes  on  every  man  the  personal  duty  of  rendering  aid 
and  co-operation  in  enforcing  the  law,  and  holds  one  guilty  of 


92  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

complicity  who  being  cognizant  of  a  crime,  maintains  silence  or 
shrinks  from  giving  testimony.  The  most  effectual  enforcement 
of  the  laws  will  result  from  laying  upon  each  local  community 
the  responsibility  of  securing  its  own  protection  against  crime. 
Municipal  action  is  likely  to  be  more  drastic  and  effective  than 
any  system  by  which  the  duty  of  detection  and  arrest  is  centered 
in  some  department  of  the  state  government. 

THE  TRIAL  OF  PERSONS  ACCUSED  OF   CRIME 

From  the  delegation  to  the  municipality  of  power  to  enact 
ordinances  the  violation  of  which  is  a  misdemeanor,  it  is  a  nat- 
ural step  to  invest  the  municipal  courts  with  power  to  try,  and 
to  pronounce  sentence  upon,  those  who  disobey  such  ordinances. 
The  culprit  in  such  case  is  an  offender  against  the  municipality, 
which  ought,  logically  to  be  clothed  with  jurisdiction  to  enforce 
its  own  enactments.  The  liberty  of  the  individual  is  sufficiently 
protected  if  in  every  case  an  appeal  lies  from  the  municipal  courts 
to  those  of  the  state. 

But  the  case  of  persons  accused  of  violating  the  penal  laws 
of  the  state  is  widely  different.  Such  a  person,  if  guilty,  is  an 
offender  against  the  state,  and  should  be  dealt  with  solely  by 
the  courts  of  the  state.  The  state  has  no  higher  function  than 
to  guard  the  personal  liberty  of  every  law-abiding  citizen  on  the 
one  hand,  and  on  the  other  to  protect  the  whole  community 
against  crime.  When  a  person  accused  is  brought  to  trial,  he  is 
the  defendant,  with  the  presumption  of  innocence  in  his  favor, 
and  the  people  of  the  state  are  the  plaintiffs;  if  the  accused  be 
innocent,  his  right  of  personal  liberty  is  put  at  jeopardy  by  the 
trial;  if  he  is  guilty,  the  safety  of  the  whole  community  is  at 
stake  in  the  trial.  When  issues  of  such  momentous  importance 
are  involved,  the  state  is  called  upon  to  use  the  highest  powers 
that  pertain  to  its  sovereignty;  it  has  no  right  to  delegate  such 
powers  and  duties  to  any  inferior  tribunal.  The  courts  of  the 
state,  embodying  the  supreme  judicial  power  of  the  state,  are 
alone  competent  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  deciding  whether 
a  person  has  violated  a  penal  law  of  the  state  —  a  responsibility 
equally  gjeat  whether  the  judgment  be  one  of  conviction  or  of 
acquittal. 


CRIME  IN  STATE  AND  MUNICIPALITY  93 

Another  reason  why  the  state  courts  alone  should  be  invested 
with  criminal  jurisdiction  is  found  in  the  fact  that  such  exclusive 
jurisdiction  tends  to  secure  uniformity  in  the  administration  of 
criminal  law.  A  person  now  arraigned  may  secure  acquittal 
through  the  rulings  of  any  court  excluding  certain  evidence, 
while  in  another  court  a  different  ruling  would  result  in  con- 
viction ;  or,  if  found  guilty,  a  prisoner  may  receive  a  sentence  of 
thirty  days  in  one  court,  and  another  prisoner  under  the  same 
circumstances  in  another  court  may  receive  a  sentence  of  three 
years.  These  gross  divergences  between  different  tribunals  in 
the  conduct  of  trials  and  in  the  length  of  sentences  imposed  cast 
disrepute  upon  the  administration  of  justice  and  weaken  the 
force  of  the  criminal  law.  If  all  criminal  trials  were  confined  to 
the  state  courts  such  inequalities  and  inconsistencies  would  in 
great  measure  disappear.  For  the  state  courts,  though  separ- 
ated from  each  other  locally,  have  equal  and  concurrent  juris- 
diction and  collectively  constitute,  practically,  one  court;  in  rec- 
ognition of  this  fact,  their  judges  have  always  aimed  at  a  har- 
monious procedure;  there  is  a  body  of  practice,  of  precedent,  of 
tradition,  which  constantly  tends  to  effect,  and  does  largely  effect, 
a  certain  unity  in  judicial  thought  and  action  among  these 
co-ordinate  courts.  The  beneficial  effect  of  this  unity  is  now 
observable  in  such  criminal  cases  as  come  to  trial  in  the  state 
courts.  Most  of  the  incongruities  and  contradictions  that  mar 
the  administration  of  the  criminal  law  arise  from  the  clashing 
of  the  inferior  municipal  courts. 

IMPRISONMENT 

There  are  two  kinds  of  imprisonment,  widely  different  in 
their  nature  and  object:  imprisonment  after  sentence,  which  is 
punitive,  and  imprisonment  before  sentence  and  while  awaiting 
trial,  which  is  a  mere  continuation  of  the  arrest  having  no  penal 
feature,  but  aiming  simply  at  the  safe  custody  of  the  prisoner. 
These  two  forms  of  imprisonment  require  wholly  different  modes 
of  treatment  and  must  be  considered  separately. 

I.  Imprisonment  after  sentence. —  It  is  now  universally 
admitted  that  the  state  imprisons  the  convict  from  no  motive  of 
vengeance  or  retribution.     He  is  imprisoned  for  precisely  the 


94        •         THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

same  reason  that  demands  the  forcible  confinement  of  persons 
affected  by  violent  insanity  or  contagious  disease,  whom  it  is  dan- 
gerous to  the  community  to  have  at  large ;  so  the  protection  of  the 
community  constitutes  the  sole  motive  and  justification  for  putting 
a  convict  in  prison.  Such  protection  is  secured  so  long  as  the 
incarceration  continues.  But  incarceration  differs  in  its  effect 
from  quarantine  against  contagion,  for  example.  When  the 
quarantine  has  continued  long  enough,  the  danger  of  contagion 
often  becomes  extinct.  Mere  incarceration,  however,  no  matter 
how  long  it  continues,  has  no  tendency  to  produce  any  improve- 
ment in  the  character  of  the  convict ;  on  the  contrary,  experience 
shows  that  its  tendency  is  hardening  and  demoralizing.  Imprison- 
ment without  reformative  training  affords  protection  to  the  pub- 
lic only  so  long  as  it  lasts;  and  when  the  convict  is  discharged, 
he  becomes  the  source  of  greater  danger  to  the  community  than 
ever  before.  Reformation  alone  yields  a  protection  which  is 
both  effective  and  lasting. 

All  this  is  rudimentary  and  not  calculated  to  excite  serious 
discussion.  The  only  difficulty  is  in  a  widespread  incredulity  as 
to  the  possibility  of  reforming  a  convict  by  any  measure  of  prison 
discipline.  The  reformation  of  a  criminal  is  popularly  regarded 
as  a  visionary  delusion,  a  chimera.  This  skepticism  is  suscept- 
ible of  ready  explanation ;  it  rests  upon  the  total  lack  of  popular 
information  regarding  the  reformative  methods  that  have  been 
tested  and  approved,  and  regarding  the  results  that  have  been 
actually  attained.  These  methods  and  their  supposed  operation 
are  generally  viewed  as  a  recondite  subject,  not  easy  of  compre- 
hension, the  fabric  of  fanciful  ideals  by  optimistic  and  unpracti- 
cal philanthropists. 

In  fact,  however,  the  principles  underlying  reformative  meas- 
ures are  quite  simple,  and  the  methods  used  in  their  application 
have  been  developed  by  experiment  and  by  careful  observation 
of  the  tangible  results.  Nothing  can  be  more  practical  than  the 
modern  reformatory  system  of  treating  convicts ;  and  the  evolu- 
tion of  that  system  has  proceeded  along  lines  strictly  scientific  — 
scientific  in  the  sense  that  every  step  in  the  development  of  the 
system  has  been  tested  by  the  practical  effects  of  actual  experi- 


CRIME  IN  STATE  AND  MUNICIPALITY  95 

ment.  The  proof  of  any  system  is  in  its  results;  the  statistics 
of  the  New  York  State  Reformatory  at  Elmira,  where  the  new 
system,  so  far  as  this  country  is  concerned,  had  its  origin,  and 
the  statistics  of  other  reformatories  in  other  states,  show  that 
about  80  per  cent,  of  the  convicts  there  treated  have  been  actually 
reclaimed  and  transformed  from  felons  into  law-abiding  mem- 
bers of  the  free  community.  Results,  the  same  in  kind  if  not  in 
degree,  have  been  reached  at  Mettrai  in  France,  in  Spain  by 
Montesinos,  in  Ireland  by  Sir  Walter  Crofton,  in  Munich  by 
Obermaier,  at  the  Rauhe  Haus  in  Germany  by  Wichern  and  his 
successors;  and  the  Elmira  system  has  now  been  introduced  and 
is  in  operation  in  Japan. 

Without  entering  upon  the  details  of  this  reformatory  sys- 
tem, the  magnitude  and  importance  of  the  results  it  has  accom- 
plished are  indisputable.  They  compel  the  conclusion  that  every 
prisoner  convicted  of  crime  ought  to  be  subjected  to  the  disci- 
plinary treatment  which  has  proved  effective  with  the  large 
majority  of  those  to  whom  it  has  been  applied,  with  the  hope  of 
accomplishing  his  reformation.  This  conclusion  rests  not  on 
philanthropic  reasons  only;  it  is  dictated  by  sound  governmental 
policy;  reformation  is  the  only  possible  protection  of  the  public 
against  the  discharged  convict. 

Here  then,  is  a  vast  responsibility  and  an  imperative  duty 
imposed  upon  the  state:  to  make  all  prisons  within  its  borders 
reformatory  in  character;  to  give  the  public  the  benefit  of  the 
application  of  reformative  treatment  to  every  person  convicted 
of  crime  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment.  Under  the  non- 
reformative  system  of  imprisonment,  which  is  now  the  prevailing 
system,  the  states  turn  loose  upon  the  country  every  year  an 
army  of  desperate  criminals,  thus  replenishing  the  criminal  class 
and  furnishing  it  with  leaders  and  expert  instructors  in  crime; 
the  discharged  convict  is  the  anomaly  and  the  despair  of  modem 
civilization.  In  reformation  lies  the  hope  of  the  future  in  the 
struggle  against  crime. 

The  establishment  of  such  a  reformative  system,  extending 
to  all  convict  prisoners  within  a  state,  is  manifestly  an  enterprise 
which  the  state  alone  is  competent   to   undertake.     From    the 


96  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

nature  of  the  case,  it  cannot  be  delegated  to  the  municipalities. 
A  reformatory  conducted  on  approved  lines  is  a  costly  institu- 
tion ;  it  requires,  for  many  reasons,  an  extensive  equipment.  The 
cornerstone  of  the  reformative  system  is  industrial  training,  and 
a  cardinal  principal  in  its  administration  is  the  individual  treat- 
ment of  convicts.  A  reformatory  can  achieve  success  only  under 
the  management  of  skilled  experts,  who  are  thoroughly  versed 
in  the  approved  modern  systems  of  prison  discipline,  in  the  meth- 
ods employed  and  the  results  attained ;  who  have  tact  in  dealing 
with  prisoners  and  insight  in  observing  their  individual  charac- 
teristics ;  they  must  have  the  power  of  detecting  the  special  weak- 
ness and  the  peculiar  aptitude  of  each  prisoner,  and  must  adapt 
the  treatment  to  the  individual  requirements  of  each  case.  This 
demands  an  extensive  variety  of  industrial  trades  and  employ- 
ments, fitted  to  widely  differing  capabilities  and  each  of  these 
industrial  departments  must  be  manned  with  a  corps  of  compe- 
tent instructors  and  overseers.  Again,  in  many  cases  it  is  found 
that  the  criminal  tendency  can  be  traced  to  some  physical  defect, 
or  to  some  abnormal,  or  arrested,  development  of  the  mind  or  of 
the  moral  sense.  In  treating  such  cases,  some  most  interesting 
experiments  made  at  Elmira  have  demonstrated  that  a  sane  body 
tends  to  develop  a  sane  mind;  strengthening  of  the  body  has 
been  followed  by  brightening  of  the  mind.  To  this  end,  baths, 
massage,  and  athletic  exercises  have  worked  wonders,  and  Elmira 
has  for  some  years  been  equipped  with  Turkish  baths  and  a  large 
gymnasium.  To  effect  a  rounded  development,  intellectual  and 
moral  education  are  an  essential  accompaniment  of  industrial 
training,  and  schools  of  trades  must  be  supplemented  by  schools 
of  letters,  all  under  the  management  of  skilled  instructors. 

Enough,  perhaps,  has  been  said  to  show  that  an  effective 
reformatory  prison  involves  an  expensive  plant  and  a  large  and 
varied  equipment ;  more  than  this,  it  must  be  manned  by  a  corps 
of  experts  who  know  how  to  handle  convicts  with  a  single  view 
to  their  reformation.  This  is  too  large  an  enterprise  for  a  munici- 
pality to  undertake;  it  is  quite  beyond  municipal  resources, 
except  in  the  case  of  a  few  very  large  cities;  it  is  outside  the 
proper  scope  of  a  municipality  which  resembles  a  business  cor- 


CRIME  IN  STATE  AND  MUNICIPALITY  97 

poration  and  deals  mainly  with  the  material  interests  of  the  com- 
munity. The  state  alone  has  the  resources  in  men  and  in  money 
requisite  to  carry  on  an  enterprise  so  broad  in  character  and 
important  in  results  as  the  maintenance  of  a  reformative  prison 
system.  This,  as  a  measure  of  public  protection  affecting  all  the 
inhabitants  of  the  state,  logically  comes  within  the  highest  func- 
tion of  the  state.  The  state  cannot  abdicate  this  supreme  duty 
and  delegate  it  to  the  municipalities  with  any  more  fitness  than 
it  can  commit  to  the  counties  of  the  state  the  control  of  its  mili- 
tary state  guard. 

Uniformity  of  prison  administration,  is  essential  to  the  suc- 
cessful operation  of  a  reformatory  system.  If  one  prison  treats 
its  convicts  with  greater  severity  or  allows  them  fewer  privileges 
than  another  prison  does,  a  sense  of  the  injustice  of  such  inequal- 
ity tends  to  counteract  reformative  influences.  It  is  character- 
istic of  the  criminal  to  regard  himself  an  injured  person;  the 
only  way  in  w^hich  he  tries  to  justify  to  himself  the  depredations 
he  commits  upon  the  public  is  by  the  fancy  that  the  public  has 
not  dealt  justly  by  him;  he  becomes  embittered  against  society 
by  nursing  the  belief  that  he  has  not  had  a  fair  chance  in  life, 
and  he  sets  his  hand  against  every  man  because  he  imagines  that 
every  man's  hand  has  been  set  against  him.  To  cure  this  morbid 
state  of  the  mind,  nothing  is  more  indispensable  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  prisons  than  a  discipline  which  is  inflexible  and  uni- 
form. Such  uniformity  of  administration  can  be  secured  only, 
by  bringing  all  the  prisons  in  a  state  under  the  direction  and 
control  of  a  central  authority.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  a 
reformatory  system  is,  and  always  must  be,  a  growing  and  devel- 
oping system.  It  advances  by  tentative  methods;  new  experi- 
ments will  constantly  be  tried  and  the  results  carefully  tested. 
By  this  scientific  method,  existing  systems  have  reached  their 
present  stage  of  development,  and  by  the  same  method  their 
future  evolution  must  proceed.  In  this  view,  the  advantages  of 
centralization  are  sufficiently  obvious.  All  the  prisons  in  the 
state  are  then  working  in  perfect  harmony  toward  the  same  end ; 
experiments  receive  a  broader  and  more  conclusive  testing;  a 
successful  measure  secures  universal  adoption;   and  every  con- 


98  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

victed  prisoner  within  the  limits  of  the  state  is  subjected  to  the 
reforming  influences  of  the  most  approved  system  of  treatment. 

The  administration  of  prisons,  under  the  system,  or  lack  of 
system,  now  prevailing,  is  of  a  miscellaneous  and  haphazard 
character.  Some  are  under  state  control,  some  under  municipal 
control,  some  under  private  charitable  management  and  others 
are  under  a  mixed  charge,  partly  private  and  partly  public.  In 
the  state  of  New  York,  for  example,  there  are  three  state 
prisons,  five  reformatories,  and  one  industrial  school  under  the 
exclusive  control  of  the  state;  there  are  six  penitentiaries  under 
the  exclusive  control  of  the  counties  where  they  are  severally 
located;  there  is  a  county  jail  in  each  of  the  counties  of  the  state 
under  the  exclusive  control  of  the  county;  and  then  there  are 
numerous  city  prisons,  houses  of  refuge,  juvenile  asylums,  pro- 
tectories and  other  institutions  under  local  control  and  manage- 
ment. And  though  the  state  takes  no  part  in  tlie  administration 
of  these  municipal  and  other  local  prisons,  they  are  crowded  with 
persons  convicted  of  violating  the  laws  of  the  state. 

The  county  jails  afford  the  most  convincing  proof  (were  any 
proof  needed)  of  the  unfitness  of  a  municipal  corporation  to 
operate  a  prison.  Some  forms  of  cruelty  were  expelled  from  the 
modern  prison,  never  to  return,  by  John  Howard  and  Elizabeth 
Fry ;  but  most  of  the  surviving  abuses  that  are  still  found  in  the 
worst  prisons  in  civilized  countries  now  exist  in  our  average 
county  jail.  Unsanitary  conditions  that  are  positively  dangerous 
to  life,  insecurity  against  escapes,  danger  from  fire,  undue  crowd- 
ing from  insufficiency  of  space,  the  absence  of  facilities  needed 
for  personal  cleanliness  and  of  accommodations  required  for  com- 
mon decency,  the  prevalence  of  vermin  and  of  all  filth  and  squalor, 
the  absence  of  sunlight,  and  an  all-pervading  and  nauseating 
stench  —  these  are  some  of  the  features  that  characterize  the 
buildings  which  are  used  for  the  average  county  jail.  The 
administration  of  the  jails  is  even  worse  than  their  physical  con- 
dition ;  the  management  of  the  jail  is  a  perquisite  of  the  sheriff 
of  the  county,  who  derives  a  large  part  of  his  income  from  the 
profits  gained  from  boarding  the  prisoners  and  from  extortions 
levied  on  the  prisoners  and  their  friends.     Thus  the  jails  are 


CRIME  IN  STATE  AND  MUNICIPALITY  99 

made  the  "  spoils  "  of  politics,  and  are  exploited  by  each  succeed- 
ing sheriff  with  the  aim  of  extracting  from  their  management 
for  his  own  personal  profit  as  large  a  pecuniary  return  as  possible. 
The  "plum"  is  too  rich  a  one  to  be  held  by  the  same  person 
longer  than  a  single  official  term,  and  so  the  control  is  apt  to  be 
shifted  to  a  newly  elected  sheriff  at  each  successive  election. 
Considerations  wholly  political  control  the  selection  of  the  suc- 
cessful candidate;  uniformity,  and  even  continuity,  of  adminis- 
tration and  the  establishment  of  reforms  thus  become  practically 
impossible.  Necessary  appropriations  for  improving  or  rebuild- 
ing the  jails  are  obtained  with  greater  difficulty  than  appropria- 
tions for  any  other  public  purpose;  the  rottenness  of  the  county 
jails  seems  to  have  spread  a  taint  of  demoralization  throughout 
the  whole  community  with  reference  to  every  measure  affecting 
them.  And  so  it  is  that  the  county  jails  in  the  United  States, 
except  in  a  very  few  isolated  instances,  remain  in  a  condition  as 
utterly  reprehensible  and  abandoned  now  as  prevailed  a  hundred 
years  ago. 

The  worst  features  of  the  county  jail,  however,  still  remain 
to  be  stated.  In  all  county  jails,  with  a  very  few  possible  excep- 
tions, all  the  prisoners  are  herded  together,  during  the  daytime, 
in  a  common  yard  or  room,  with  unrestrained  freedom  of  inter- 
course and  converse;  in  some  of  the  jails  there  is  even  an  imper- 
fect segregation  between  the  male  and  female  prisoners.  Persons 
awaiting  trial  and  persons  convicted,  the  innocent  and  the 
guilty,  the  old  and  the  young,  the  hardened  criminal  and  the 
novice  in  crime,  all  are  thrown  together  into  enforced  and  promis- 
cuous association.  There  is  no  labor  or  industrial  occupation; 
even  in  states  where  the  laws  require  that  the  prisoners  in  the 
county  jail  shall  be  kept  at  work,  the  counties  fail  to  make  appro- 
priations for  the  introduction  of  labor;  there  is  no  instruction; 
there  is  no  discipline,  except  rough,  and  sometimes  brutal,  meas- 
ures against  insubordination  and  violence.  The  corrupting  effect 
of  these  conditions  upon  the  inmates  is  so  inevitable  and  so 
blighting  as  to  justify  the  estimate,  which  has  often  been 
expressed,  that  the  county  jails  are  a  more  productive  cause  of 
crime  in  the  United  States  than  is  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquor. 


100  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  common  designation  of  these  jails  as  "nurseries  of  vice" 
and  "schools  of  crime"  is  but  a  feeble  characterization  of  their 
atrocities.  To  sentence  any  human  being  to  imprisonment  in  a 
county  jail  is  so  sure  to  effect  his  moral  deterioration  that  every 
such  sentence  is  a  distinct  injury  to  society;  it  is  nothing  less 
than  the  promotion  and  fostering  of  crime  by  public  authority. 

Still,  the  institution  of  the  county  jail  is  firmly  entrenched 
in  the  law  and  the  politics  of  the  country  and  all  efforts  to  reform 
it  have  been,  and  are  likely  to  be,  futile.  Its  abuses  are  so  radical 
and  inveterate  that  there  is  no  hope  that  it  can  ever  be  purged 
and  rehabilitated.  The  only  practicable  remedy  is  to  cease  to  use 
the  jail  at  all  as  a  place  of  confinement  for  persons  convicted  of 
crime.  The  invincible  evils  of  the  county  jails  and  the  urgent 
necessity  of  providing  some  substitute  for  them  have  brought 
into  prominence  the  question,  which  is  now  being  widely  dis- 
cussed, whether  the  state  should  not  withdraw  from  the  munici- 
palities all  power  (heretofore  delegated)  to  deal  with  offenders 
against  state  law,  and  itself  assume  the  charge  and  custody  of 
every  person  sentenced  to  imprisonment  for  crime.  The  reasons 
which  have  been  already  urged  to  show  that  this  is  the  logical 
function  and  duty  of  the  state  gain  added  force  from  the  position 
that  there  is  no  other  practicable  way  of  supplanting  and  sup- 
pressing the  county  jail. 

The  plan  here  advocated  of  bringing  all  convict  prisoners 
under  the  central  control  of  the  state  involves  the  acquisition  of 
additional  prisons  by  the  state.  In  many  cases  the  country  peniten- 
tiaries and  other  local  prisons  could  be  purchased  by  the  state 
and  be  rendered  available  for  reformatory  uses.  The  proposed 
change  would  doubtless  necessitate  in  every  state  the  construction 
and  equipment  of  one  or  more  entirely  new  prisons,  and  would 
unquestionably  entail  upon  the  state  a  largely  increased  initial 
expenditure.  The  municipalities,  on  the  other  hand,  would  be 
relieved  of  the  expenditures  they  now  incur  from  this  cause.  The 
increased  expense  might  be,  in  whole  or  in  part,  apportioned  by 
the  state  and  assessed  upon  the  municipalities  in  proportion  to  the 
number  of  convicts  coming  from  each  locality;  this  would  put 
upon  each  municipality  the  incentive  of  self-interest  to  use  vigi- 


CRIME  IN  STATE  AND  MUNICIPALITY  lOI 

lance  in  the  suppression  of  vice  and  to  purge  itself  of  the  criminal 
class.  Whether  the  large  expense  here  advocated  can  be  justified 
on  the  ground  of  political  economy  depends  upon  the  answers 
to  be  given  to  some  very  complicated  questions:  What  is  the 
direct  and  indirect  cost  of  crime  to  a  community  ?  What  would 
be  the  saving  in  money  to  a  state  if  80  or  even  50  per  cent,  of  its 
convicts  were  rescued  from  a  life  of  crime  and  transformed  into 
industrious  and  law-abiding  citizens  ?  In  the  light  of  experience, 
estimating  the  results  that  have  been  actually  wrought  by  reform- 
atory prisons,  it  is  possible,  by  careful  computation,  to  arrive 
at  but  one  conclusion.  The  establishment  of  a  reformatory 
prison,  and  its  operation  through  skilled  managers  upon  approved 
scientific  methods,  yield  larger  pecuniary  returns  to  the  public 
than  the  investment  of  an  equivalent  amount  in  any  other  public 
work  whatsoever.  It  would  not  be  difficult  to  prove  that  the 
pecuniary  benefit  gained  by  the  people  of  the  state  of  New  York 
from  the  Elmira  Reformatory  has  already  far  exceeded  in 
amount  all  that  the  state  has  expended  both  in  the  erection  and  in 
the  maintenance  of  that  institution.^ 

Another  objection  that  may  be  urged  to  the  exclusive  control 
of  prisons  by  the  state  is  the  danger  that  they  may  be  made  the 
"  spoils  "  of  party  politics.  That  is  precisely  the  evil  which  has 
ruined  the  county  jails,  and  which  must  always  prove  fatal  to 
any  prison  or  prison  system  brought  under  purely  partisan  con- 
trol. There  is  only  one  way  of  meeting  this  evil,  and  that  is  by 
a  system  of  efficient  inspection  and  supervision,  with  power  to 
correct  abuses;  and  such  supervision  can  be  made  efficient  only 
by  the  support  of  an  enlightened  and  alert  public  spirit.  If  all 
the  prisons  in  the  state  were  brought  imder  a  central  and  uniform 
control,  the  system  on  which  they  were  managed  would  command 
a  greatly  increased  importance  and  publicity;  the  obscure  and 
petty  jails  now  existing  would  be  supplanted  by  great  institu- 
tions, avowing  large  aims  and  claiming  to  be  conducted  on  scien- 
tific principles;  the  public  attention  and  interest  would  be 
arrested,  and  abuses  which  pass  unnoticed  and  unknown  in  the 
local  jails  would  become  impossible  under  the  administration  of 

'  Cf.  The  Science  of  Penology,  by  Henry  M.  Boies,  pp.  135,  161. 


102  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  state  and  in  the  full  blaze  of  public  opinion.  The  danger  of 
partisan  control,  now  seen  at  its  worst  in  the  county  jails,  would 
surely  be  greatly  diminished,  and  there  is  ground  to  hope  that  it 
would  entirely  vanish  before  the  increased  publicity  of  a  cen- 
tralized state  system,  and  the  increase  of  public  interest  and 
enlightenment  which  such  a  system  would  inevitably  foster. 

What  would  then  become  of  the  buildings  now  used  as  county 
jails?  Some  of  these  are  of  such  faulty  construction,  or  so  satur- 
ated with  filth,  or  so  impregnated  with  the  germs  of  disease  as  to 
be  wholly  unfitted  for  any  use  and  are  only  meet  for  destruction. 
Very  many  of  the  jail  buildings,  however,  can  be  so  repaired  and 
altered  as  to  make  them  available  for  use  as  places  of  detention 
for  persons  arrested  under  civil  process,  for  witnesses  in  crimi- 
nal cases,  and  for  persons  accused  of  crime  and  awaiting  trial. 
And  this  brings  us  to  the  consideration  of  the  proper  treatment 
of  that  second  class  of  prisoners,  mentioned  above;  those, 
namely,  who  have  been  arrested  on  a  charge  or  on  suspicion  of 
crime  and  are  detained  while  awaiting  trial. 

2,  Imprisonment  before  trial. —  These  prisoners  form  a  class 
entirely  distinct  from  guilty  and  convicted  prisoners,  and  are 
entitled  to  receive  a  wholly  different  kind  of  treatment.  The 
law  presumes  them  to  be  innocent,  and  the  law  should  treat  them 
as  if  they  were  innocent.  Their  imprisonment  has  no  other 
object  than  their  safe  custody  until  the  question  of  their  guilt 
or  innocence  can  be  judicially  determined.  There  is,  in  their 
case,  no  occasion  for  any  disciplinary  or  reformative  training; 
they  may  be,  and  in  many  instances  they  are,  wholly  innocent, 
and,  until  they  are  actually  adjudged  guilty,  they  have  all  the 
rights  of  other  members  of  the  community,  subject  only  to  their 
enforced  detention.  To  treat  them  as  if  they  were  criminals, 
to  confine  them  in  association  with  prisoners  who  are  gxiilty  and 
are  serving  sentence  for  crime,  and  thus  to  subject  them  to 
most  corrupting  influences,  is  much  more  than  a  mere  personal 
outrage;  it  is  a  grievous  wrong  to  the  public  whereby  the  author- 
ity of  law  is  used  to  foster  crime  by  keeping  a  presumably  inno- 
cent person  in  enforced  contact  witli  criminals. 

When  a  youthful  offender  is  for  the  first  time  arrested  for 


CRIME  IN  STATE  AND  MUNICIPALITY  103 

crime,  it  is  the  most  critical  turning-point  in  his  life.  He  ought 
to  be  confined  in  solitude;  then,  if  ever,  his  reflections  will  bring 
him  to  a  realizing  sense  of  his  sin  and  folly,  of  the  downward 
course  he  has  been  following,  and,  if  continued,  its  inevitable 
end ;  he  cannot  but  see  that  he  stands  at  the  parting  of  the  ways ; 
then,  if  ever,  his  better  impulses  will  assert  themselves  and 
awaken  within  him  new  purposes  to  amend  his  life  for  the  future. 
These  beneficent  meditations  and  resolutions,  the  present  system, 
instead  of  promoting,  does  all  that  it  can  to  stifle;  it  hurries 
the  arrested  person  to  the  county  jail,  and  thrusts  him  into  the 
midst  of  the  vile  company  there  congregated.  There  is  no  oppor- 
tunity for  quiet  thought,  no  means  of  withdrawal  into  privacy; 
any  natural  manifestation  of  sorrow  or  depression  is  greeted  with 
ribald  taunts  and  jeers;  the  voice  of  conscience  is  drowned;  the 
talk  is  of  exploits  in  vice  and  crime ;  the  air  reeks  with  blasphemy 
and  obscenity;  the  future  is  the  subject  of  reckless  derision.  How 
is  it  possible  that  repentance  or  self-respect  or  any  worthy  pur- 
pose should  thrive  in  such  an  environment? 

The  bad  policy,  as  well  as  the  grievous  wrong,  of  confining 
an  arrested  person  whether  guilty  or  innocent  (but  in  law  pre- 
sumably innocent),  in  enforced  and  unrestrained  associaition 
with  criminals  is  sufficiently  obvious.  But  there  is  another  con- 
sideration that  should  not  be  overlooked.  Not  only  does  the 
law  presume  innocence,  but  a  very  large  majority  of  persons 
arrested  are  in  fact  not  guilty.  When  a  crime  is  committed,"  it 
often  happens  that  several,  and  sometimes  a  good  many,  persons 
are  arrested  upon  a  suspicion  of  guilt  which  proves  to  be 
unfounded.  Thus  the  number  of  arrests  will  always  be  found 
largely  in  excess  of  the  number  of  convictions.  In  the  city  of 
New  York  there  are  five  times  as  many  arrests  for  felony  as  there 
are  convictions;  that  is,  for  every  person  there  found  guilty  of 
felony  there  are  four  other  persons  arrested  on  charge  of  felony 
who  are  not  found  guilty.^  It  is  a  disgrace  and  an  injury  to 
reputation  to  be  confined  in  a  prison.  The  public  does  not  stop 
to  inquire  whether  the  person  imprisoned  was  really  innocent  or 

*  See  tables  of  statistics  in  appendix  of  The  Science  of  Penology,  by  H.  M. 
Boies. 


104  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

guilty;  the  mere  fact  that  he  has  been  "in  prison"'  places  any 
man  in  an  ambiguous  position  and  creates,  in  the  public  estima- 
tion, a  presumption  against  his  character  which  is  a  distinct,  and 
often  a  very  serious,  injury.  This  is  a  stain  that  ought  not  to 
be  put  upon  any  person  arrested  on  a  mere  charge  or  suspicion 
of  crime.  Until  found  guilty,  he  should  not  be  placed  in  the 
same  category  with  convicts,  and  he  should  be  confined  in  a 
"house  of  detention,"  and  not  in  a  "prison;"  prisons  and  jails, 
penitentiaries  and  reformatories,  should  contain  only  adjudged 
criminals. 

Confinement  while  awaiting  trial  is,  as  has  already  been  said, 
a  mere  continuation  of  the  arrest,  and  may  well  be  committed  to 
the  charge  of  the  municipality  that  made  the  arrest.  None  of 
the  reasons  which  have  been  urged  for  placing  all  convicted 
prisoners  in  the  exclusive  custody  of  the  state,  to  the  end  that 
they  may  be  subjected  to  reformatory  discipline,  apply  to  persons 
under  arrest  while  awaiting  trial.  On  the  contrary,  the  rightful 
distinction  between  the  two  classes  ought  to  be  emphasized,  not 
only  by  confining  them  in  different  buildings  called  by  different 
names  and  under  wholly  different  regimes,  but  by  the  further 
difference  that  no  arrested  person  shall  be  turned  over  to  the 
state  or  be  put  in  prison  until  after  conviction;  before  convic- 
tion, he  shall  be  confined  in  a  house  of  detention  under  the  charge 
of  the  municipality.  Moreover,  the  management  of  a  house  of 
detention  should  be  widely  different  from  that  of  a  prison.  It 
should  never  be  forgotten  that  any  member  of  the  community, 
no  matter  how  upright  and  pure  in  character,  is  liable  to  be 
arrested  at  any  time  on  a  charge  of  serious  crime;  this  may 
happen  through  the  malice  of  enemies,  through  mistaken  iden- 
tity, through  a  fraudulent  conspiracy  of  which  he  is  the  innocent 
victim,  through  false  deductions  from  circumstantial  evidence. 
The  right  of  every  arrested  person  to  receive  decent  treatment 
must  be  recognized  and  enforced,  and  it  is  imperatively  necessary 
that  a  stop  should  be  put  to  the  scandalous  intermingling  of  the 
innocent  and  the  guilty.  Every  person  arrested  should  be  con- 
fined alone  in  a  separate  apartment  and  should  be  treated  in  a 
manner  consistent  with  the  legal  assumption  that  he  is  innocent 


CRIME  IN  STATE  AND  MUNICIPALITY  105 

of  the  crime  of  which  he  is  accused.  The  municipalities  have 
shown  in  so  striking  a  way  their  incapacity  to  conduct  a  prison 
that  one  may  well  hesitate  to  commit  the  custody  of  anyone  to 
their  charge ;  such  a  course  is  here  advocated  only  when  coupled 
with  the  condition  that  the  state  enact  laws  prescribing  with 
definite  precision  the  character  and  appointments  of  the  build- 
ings in  which  arrested  persons  shall  be  confined  and  the  manner 
in  which  they  shall  be  treated.  Nor  is  the  mere  enactment  of 
laws  sufficient;  the  duty  should  be  laid  upon  a  state  board,  or 
officers  of  the  state,  to  keep  these  buildings  under  constant  and 
rigid  inspection,  and  to  enforce  all  statutory  enactments  regard- 
ing their  structure  and  management. 

To  summarize  briefly  the  propositions  here  advocated :  The 
salutary  principle  of  home  rule  demands  that  municipalities 
should  be  invested  with  power  to  enact  such  ordinances  as  they 
may  deem  fitted  to  protect  the  interests  of  their  inhabitants,  with 
imprisonment  as  the  penalty  for  infraction,  subject  to  the  limita- 
tions contained  in  their  charters  and  subject  to  the  general  laws 
of  the  state.  The  municipal  courts  should  have  jurisdiction  to 
try  and  to  sentence  persons  accused  of  violating  such  ordinances, 
and  persons  so  sentenced  should  be  imprisoned  in  prisons  main- 
tained and  operated  by  the  municipality. 

Municipalities  should  also  be  thrown  upon  their  own  respon- 
sibility to  protect  themselves  against  crime;  and  the  duty  of 
maintaining  instrumentalities  for  the  detection  of  crime  and  for 
the  arrest  of  persons  charged  with  any  violation  of  law,  whether 
municipal  or  state  law,  should  rest  upon  the  municipalities.  Per- 
sons so  arrested  should  be  confined  while  awaiting  trial  in  houses 
of  detention  under  the  control  of  the  municipality. 

The  power  of  the  municipality,  however,  to  maintain  prisons 
(for  the  incarceration  of  persons  sentenced  for  violation  of 
municipal  ordinances)  and  houses  of  detention  (for  the  custody 
of  persons  arrested  and  awaiting  trial)  should  be  made  subject 
to  strict  limitations.  Municipal  prisons  and  houses  of  detention 
should  be  required  to  bear  different  names  and  to  be  distinct  and 
separated  in  location  from  each  other.     The  state  should  enact 


I06  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

general  laws  relating  to  the  construction  of  such  buildings  and 
the  system  on  which  they  are  to  be  conducted;  and  the  power 
and  duty  should  be  vested  in  a  state  board  or  officers  of  the  state 
to  maintain  a  constant  and  rigid  inspection  of  such  buildings 
and  of  their  management,  and  to  enforce  their  conformity  to  the 
law. 

All  persons  arrested  upon  a  charge  of  violating  state  law 
should  be  brought  to  trial  before  state  courts  only,  which  should 
have  exclusive  jurisdiction  in  all  such  cases. 

All  persons  found  guilty  of  violating  laws  of  the  state  and 
sentenced  to  imprisonment  should  be  committed  to  the  custody 
of  the  state,  and  sent  to  prisons  under  the  exclusive  control  and 
management  of  the  state. 

All  prisons  should  be  conducted  upon  a  reformatory  basis, 
where  every  person  sentenced  to  imprisonment  shall  be  treated 
in  accordance  with  those  approved  scientific  methods  which  have 
resulted,  and  can  be  made  to  result,  in  the  actual  reformation  of 
a  majority  of  convicted  offenders.  When  this  consummation  is 
reached — and  it  will  only  be  after  long  and  strenuous  effort  — 
the  volume  of  crime  must  steadily  grow  smaller  and  smaller, 
until  it  is  reduced  to  a  minute  residuum  of  incorrigible  and  irre- 
claimable criminals  (if  such  there  are)  who  are  beyond  the  reach 
of  human  effort  and  science.  When  the  existence  of  such  a 
residuum  is  demonstrated,  its  perpetual  imprisonment  seems  the 
only  efficient  and  practical  measure  of  public  defense.^ 

•  For  a  very  important  application  of  the  main  principles  of  this  paper  to  a 
concrete  situation,  see  the  valuable  report  of  the  Prison  Commission  to  the 
governor  of  Indiana,  December  26,  1904. —  Editor. 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE 


A.    AND    H.    HAMON 
College   Libre   des    Sciences    sociales,    Paris,    Universite    Nouvelle   de    Bruxelles. 


Political  opinion  in  France  is  divided  into  a  number  of  groups, 
as  follows :  Royalists  or  Monarchists,  Imperialists,  Bonapartists, 
Catholic  Conservatives,  Progressist  Republicans,  Nationalists, 
Radicals,  Socialist  Radicals,  Reformatory  Socialists  (Socialistes 
reformistes),  Revolutionary  Socialists,  and  Anarchists. 

The  Royalists  or  Monarchists  are  constantly  decreasing  in 
number  and  influence.  For  more  than  half  a  century  France  has 
not  had  a  king.  Since  1830  no  member  of  the  royal  family  of 
Bourbons,  and  since  1848  no  Orleanist,  has  sat  upon  the  throne, 
Tlius  the  average  Frenchman  of  the  present  generation  cannot 
conceive,  or  at  least  can  conceive  only  with  difficulty,  a  king  reign- 
ing over  France.  At  most,  those  who  were  men  before  1870  can 
imagine  France  governed  by  an  emperor,  by  a  Bonaparte.  They 
have  known  an  emperor;  consequently  they  can  imagine  him. 
To  the  younger  generation  the  monarchistic  or  imperialistic  idea 
seems  odd.  Among  the  young  men  the  only  ones  who  are  still 
Royalists  or  Imperialists  are  so  through  family  tradition.  They 
believe  that  they  must  inherit  from  their  fathers  their  political 
opinions  as  well  as  their  revenues  and  their  names. 

At  the  general  election  of  1898  the  number  of  Monarchists 
and  Bonapartists  could  be  estimated  approximately  at  1,300,000; 
that  is,  10.6  per  cent,  of  all  the  electors.  It  is  necessary  to  note 
here  that  all  the  figures  presented  in  this  article  are  roughly 
approximate,  and  must  never  be  considered  as  having  an  absolute 
value.  They  have  been  obtained  by  copying  the  returns  given  by 
the  papers  at  the  time  of  the  elections.  Sometimes  the  papers 
would  give  wrong  figures;  at  other  times  they  would  forget  to 
give  all  the  votes,  or  all  those  registered.  Often  they  would 
report  inaccurately  the  party  affiliations  of  the  candidates,  whom 
they  would  represent  as  being  Socialists  or  Socialist  Radicals, 

107 


I08  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Radicals  or  Progressist  Republicans,  Nationalists  or  Monarchists. 
The  figures  in  themselves  have,  therefore,  only  questionable  value, 
but  as  the  causes  of  error  are  the  same  for  every  shade  of  opinion, 
it  seems  to  us  that  the  proportion  resulting  from  them  gives  a  fair 
idea  of  the  division  of  the  parties. 

In  1902  there  were  new  parliamentary  elections,  in  which  the 
number  of  votes  cast  for  Monarchists  and  Imperialists  was 
reduced  to  970,000;  or  9  per  cent,  of  the  total  number  of  electors, 
which  was  then  10,800,000.  This  is  still  a  high  figure.  It  does 
not,  however,  exactly  represent  the  real  opinion  of  those  included 
in  it.  Indeed,  in  many  electoral  circuits,  especially  in  the  country, 
the  candidate  is  voted  for,  not  because  his  political  opinions  are 
such  and  such,  but  because  he  is  Mr.  So-and-so,  because  he  is  a 
great  landowner  or  manufacturer  in  the  district,  or  because  he  is 
rich  and  spends  money  freely  at  the  time  of  the  elections.  To 
form  a  correct  idea  of  the  political  situation  in  France,  one  must 
take  into  consideration  the  fact  that  political  interest  is  not  at  all 
intense  among  the  peasants.  The  farmer  generally  cares  little 
about  politics,  his  only  concerns  being  of  a  material  nature.  For 
a  long  time  the  rural  population  was  Bonapartistic  and  imperial- 
istic, because  their  economic  condition  was  good  under  the  empire. 
Now,  under  the  republic,  however,  their  prosperity  is  just  as 
gjeat;  and  that  is  why  today  a  majority  of  the  peasants  are 
devoted  to  the  republic.  The  countryman  is  a  republican  even 
when  he  votes  for  the  Royalist  or  the  Bonapartist,  the  rich  man 
of  the  district.  Still  another  cause  which  contributes  toward 
maintaining  a  rural  majority  for  republicanism  is  the  inertia  of 
the  farmers.  They  do  not  like  to  change  the  existing  order  of 
things.  They  have  grown  used  to  the  republic,  and  they  wish  to 
keep  it.  If  the  large  landowner  of  the  region  is  a  Royalist,  they 
will  vote  for  him  because  they  know  him,  and  because  they  voted 
for  his  father,  his  uncle,  and  his  father-in-law.  He  would  be 
elected  as  well  if  he  were  a  Radical. 

These  reservations  must  be  made  if  the  reader  is  to  under- 
stand the  relativity  of  the  figures  quoted  in  this  article,  and  is  to 
get  a  just  appreciation  of  the  division  of  parties  in  France. 

The  Royalists  are  the  partisans  of  a  king,  and  that  king  is  for 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  IO9 

them  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  the  great-grandson  of  Louis  Philippe  I. 
Of  him  it  is  known  that  he  is  married  to  an  archduchess  of 
Austria,  and  that  he  has  no  children.  He  is  immensely  wealthy, 
his  fortune  being  estimated  at  50,000,000  francs.  He  is  banished 
from  France  and  lives  abroad,  by  virtue  of  the  law  of  exile  for  the 
pretenders.  He  has  always  busied  himself  more  with  his  private 
affairs  than  with  politics.  He  maintains,  however,  a  political 
bureau  in  Paris,  which  keeps  him  informed  and  issues  orders  to 
the  Royalist  papers  of  Paris  and  the  provinces.  These  papers 
are  very  few.  Many  which  were  formerly  Royalist  are  now 
Progressist  Republican  or  Nationalist,  and  are  enlisted  for  the 
republic. 

The  Royalist  papers  of  Paris  are  La  Gazette  de  France,  Le 
Gaulois,  Le  Moniteur  universel,  and  Le  Soleil,  though  the  last- 
named  generally  masks  its  royalism.  As  a  rule,  these  papers  have 
no  great  circulation.  La  Gazette  de  France  does  not  issue  more 
than  four  or  five  thousand  copies.  It  is  the  official  organ  of  the 
party,  and  expresses  the  views  of  Charles  Maurras  —  a  man  of 
about  forty,  and  a  writer  of  great  talent.  His  dream  was  to 
regenerate  royalism  with  new  social  ideas,  especially  reforms  in 
the  relations  between  employers  and  employees.  His  efforts  have 
not  been  successful.  The  other  Royalist  papers  did  not  come  to 
the  support  of  his  theories,  which  they  deemed  revolutionary. 
They  held  to  the  purest  conservatism,  being  more  or  less  avowed 
adversaries  of  all  social  reforms  along  democratic  lines,  and  con- 
fining their  program  solely  to  a  propaganda  for  a  monarchical 
form  of  government  which  would  maintain  the  existing  social 
order,  with  its  well-marked  social  hierarchy.  To  this  class 
belongs  Le  Gaulois,  the  official  organ  of  the  nobility.  Its  circu- 
lation amounts  to  some  15,000  copies.  Its  leading  writer  is 
Arthur  Meyer,  an  Israelite,  who  was  born  in  humble  circum- 
stances, but  is  now  rich.  A  few  years  ago  he  abjured  his  religion 
and  was  baptized.  Recently  he  was  married  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Turenne,  who  is  nearly  forty  years  younger  than  himself.  Le 
Moniteur  universel  exists  only  in  name.  As  regards  Le  Soleil,  it 
was  formerly  the  organ  of  liberal  royalism,  but  apparently  tends 
to  g^ve  up  royalism  and  to  label  itself  "  Liberal  Republican."   The 


1 10  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

reason  for  this  change  of  front,  which  has  likewise  been  made  by 
a  number  of  other  papers,  is  the  fact  that  public  opinion  is  felt  to 
be  drifting  away  from  royalism.  Thus  the  paper  has  sacrificed 
the  name  of  "  Royalist "  in  order  to  go  on  defending  conservative 
principles  behind  the  screen  of  a  "  republican  "  label.  The  circula- 
tion of  Le  Moniteur  is  20,000. 

In  short,  the  Royalist  party  is  becoming  weaker  every  day. 
It  tends  to  disappear  and  give  place  to  a  great  Catholic  Conserva- 
tive party,  which,  though  accepting  the  republic,  wants  it  to  be 
conservative.    This  is  styled  the  "  Liberal  Republican  "  party. 

The  Imperialists  and  Bonapartists  are  also  continually  los- 
ing ground,  though  they  are  more  active  than  the  Royalists. 
Their  candidate  is  Victor  Napoleon  —  a  man  about  forty  years  of 
age  and  of  moderate  intelligence.  He  is  living  in  Brussels,  in 
modest  surroundings.  He  is  unmarried,  although  rumor  has 
married  him  morganatically  to  a  countess  who  has  borne  him 
several  children.  It  has  been  said  that  his  brother  Louis,  who  is 
a  general  in  the  Russian  army,  is  likewise  a  pretender.  This  may 
be  true,  although  he  has  always  denied  it.  In  1900  there  was  a 
Bonapartist  plot.  M.  Demagny,  the  secretary  of  Waldeck- 
Rousseau,  then  minister  of  the  interior,  was  bought.  There  was 
no  attempt  at  a  coup  d'etat,  perhaps  because  public  opinion  was 
warned  by  a  few  papers  —  among  them  L'Humanite  nouvelle,  in 
an  article  which  caused  a  great  sensation.  It  is  possible  that  the 
present  disturbance,  the  object  of  which  is  to  prevent  the  army 
and  the  civic  functionaries  from  being  republican,  is  the  work  of 
the  Bonapartists,  who  are  inviting  a  last  assault. 

There  are  in  the  demands  of  the  Imperialists  certain  demo- 
cratic elements  which  would  give  this  party  a  better  chance  than 
the  Royalists  have  of  getting  the  sympathy  of  the  public.  We 
must,  however,  distinguish  between  two  tendencies  among  the 
Bonapartists.  One  is  democratic,  the  other  conservative.  Those 
who  are  influenced  by  the  latter  tend  toward  royalism.  They 
follow  L'Autorite,  the  organ  of  Paul  de  Cassagnac,  who  died 
recently.  Cassagnac  was  a  journalist  of  great  talent  and  an 
energetic  polemic.  He  it  was  who,  with  his  daily  article,  made 
L'Autorite  an  influential  organ,  its  circulation  reaching  40,000 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  1 1 1 

copies.  We  gravely  doubt  that  the  Imperialist  organ  will  long 
survive  its  director.  It  is  certain  that  it  will  lose  the  greater  part 
of  its  readers,  even  if  it  does  not  entirely  disappear. 

At  all  events,  the  Royalist  and  Imperialist  parties  are  both 
dying  out.  Day  by  day  their  power  decreases.  They  have  no 
particular  ideal,  simply  wanting  to  maintain  the  present  social 
order.  This  they  have  in  common  with  the  great  Catholic  Liberal 
Conservative  party,  which  gives  itself  the  name  "  Liberal  Repub- 
lican," This  latter  party  is  ever  growing  stronger,  absorbing 
little  by  little  both  Royalists  and  Imperialists.  It  is  recruited 
especially  from  the  ranks  of  the  nobility — that  nobility  which  did 
not,  in  spite  of  all,  persist  in  its  royalism  and  imperialism  —  and 
also  from  the  higher  and  middle  strata  of  the  bourgeoisie. 
Catiiolics,  Protestants,  and  Jews  alike  make  up  its  rank  and  file. 
They  are  not  all  believers,  but  they  all  agree  in  considering  reli- 
gion a  useful  instrument  in  the  hands  of  the  government.  Reli- 
gion is  necessary  for  the  people. 

The  political  program  of  this  party  in  formation  is  mainte- 
nance of  the  republic,  but  a  conservative  republic,  different  from  a 
parliamentary  monarchy  only  in  that  a  president  is  substituted  for 
the  king.  However,  from  a  social  standpoint  its  program  is 
different  from  that  of  the  Royalists.  It  desires  to  ameliorate  the 
condition  of  the  proletarians;  it  advocates  protective  laws  for 
work  and  wages,  laws  of  insurance,  and  provision  for  old-age 
pensions.  Nevertheless,  it  wants  to  keep  the  working  class  of 
town  and  country  under  obedience  to  the  rich,  to  the  capitalist 
manufacturers  and  the  landowners;  it  wants  to  keep  the  prole- 
tarians in  a  state  of  social  inferiority  to  the  wealthy  classes.  The 
proletarians  must  stand  in  the  same  relation  to  the  latter  as  chil- 
dren to  their  father. 

The  names  commonly  given  to  the  members  of  the  Liberal 
Republican  party  vary  according  to  the  different  factions.  They 
are  called  by  turns  "Rallies,"  "Cccsarians"  "Christian  Democrats," 
"  Social  Catholics,"  "  Liberal  Republicans,"  "  Nationalists," 
"  Anti-Semites,"  "  Catholic  Conservatives  "  (Conservateurs  catho- 
liques),  and  "  Progressist  Republicans,"  etc. 

The  "Rallies"  are  the  Royalists  or  Bonapartists  of  former 


112  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

times  who  accept  the  republic,  being  unable  to  kill  it.  The 
"Caesarians"  are  Imperialists.  Victor  Napoleon  is  their  Caesar, 
but  if  this  Caesar  will  not  come  and  reign  over  them,  they  are 
ready  to  accept  anyone  else,  so  great  is  their  longing  for  an 
emperor.  "  Nationalist "  is  a  name  born  of  the  Dreyfus  afifair, 
which  severed  all  party  ties  and  mixed  men  together  regardless 
of  political  groupings.  They  are,  however,  now  beginning  to 
separate,  and  to  align  themselves  according  to  policies  and  affini- 
ties. The  Nationalists  are  recruited,  in  large  part,  from  the  ele- 
ments which  constituted  Boulangism.  They  have  no  definite 
program,  because  they  are  such  a  miscellaneous  collection.  They 
loudly  proclaim  their  "  love  of  country  and  militarism."  Many  of 
them  were  Anti-Semites ;  some  of  them,  but  a  constantly  decreas- 
ing number,  are  Socialists;  and  all  of  them  were  "Anti- 
Dreyfusards."  Their  principal  organs  in  Paris  are  La  Patrie, 
La  Presse,  L'Rcho  de  Paris,  L'^clair,  L'Intransigeant,  and  Le 
Petit  Journal.  La  Patrie  issues  90,000  copies  daily.  Its  manager, 
;6mile  Massard,  is  at  present  a  member  of  the  Municipal  Council 
of  Paris.  Some  twenty  years  ago  he  was  a  Revolutionary  Social- 
ist, as  were  Jules  Guesde  and  Paul  Lafargue.  M.  Millevoye,  the 
Nationalist  deputy,  who  was  formerly  a  Bonapartist,  is  its  editor- 
in-chief.  La  Presse  has  a  circulation  of  70,000.  These  two 
papers  are  much  read  in  the  evening  in  Paris.  Both  of  them 
belong  to  Jules  Jaluzot,  the  Liberal  Republican  deputy,  who  is 
one  of  the  principal  owners  of  the  great  dry-goods  house  of 
"Le  Printemps."  L'£cho  de  Paris,  managed  by  Henri  Simond, 
who  became  a  millionaire  through  his  marriage  to  the  widow  of 
M.  Recipon,  has  a  circulation  of  100,000  copies.  It  is  a  very 
well-written  paper,  with  an  able  editorial  staff.  L'£.clair,  nomi- 
nally managed  by  M.  Sabatier,  but  now  owned  by  M.  Jubet,  for- 
merly editor  oi  Le  Petit  Journal,  is  in  reality  the  work  of 
Alphonse  Humbert  and  G.  Montorgueil.  The  former  is  editori- 
ally responsible  and  dictates  the  politics  of  the  paper.  He  is  an 
ex-president  of  the  Municipal  Council  of  Paris,  and  an  ex-deputy. 
Upon  the  suppression  of  the  Commune  in  1871,  he  was  con- 
demned and  sent  to  prison,  where  he  remained  ten  years.  L'^clair 
has  a  daily  sale  of  more  than  100,000  copies.    It  is  one  of  the  best 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  1 13 

Parisian  newspapers.  L'hitransigeant  is  managed  by  Henry 
Rochefort.  This  old  war-horse  is  as  full  of  spirit  as  ever,  and  as 
fiery  as  a  youth.  His  peculiar  controversial  style,  which,  though 
witty,  is  not  very  deep,  does,  however,  not  now  please  the  multi- 
tude as  much  as  it  formerly  did,  and  the  number  of  copies  daily 
issued  by  the  paper  does  not  exceed  70,000,  while  fifteen  years  ago 
it  was  double  and  even  sometimes  triple  that  number.  Le  Petit 
Journal  is  read  especially  for  its  miscellaneous  news,  its  general 
information,  and  its  serial  stories.    Its  sale  is  1,000,000  copies. 

The  Anti-Semites  flourished  especially  between  1890  and 
1900.  Now  there  are  very  few  of  them  left — I  mean  of  those 
who  proclaim  themselves  to  be  such ;  because,  in  spite  of  himself, 
every  Frenchman  is  prejudiced  against  a  Jew.  The  Anti-Semitic 
program  was  very  simple :  fight  the  Jews  and  expel  them. 
Beyond  that,  it  varied  with  the  different  individuals.  All  shades 
of  political  opinion  were  represented,  from  Royalism  to  Socialism. 
The  official  organ  of  Anti-Semitism  is  La  Libre  Parole,  the  cir- 
culation of  which  has  now  fallen  to  70,000  copies,  after  having 
exceeded  200,000.  This  paper  was  founded  by  Edouard 
Drumont,  who  is  still  its  manager.  It  is  his  paper,  it  subsists  only 
through  him,  and  it  is  for  him  alone  that  it  is  read.  Edouard 
Drumont  is  a  writer  of  talent,  whose  numerous  political  and 
social  works,  written  between  1880  and  1895,  exercised  a  notable 
influence  upon  the  young  men  of  that  time.  Though  a  deputy 
from  1898  to  1902,  his  influence  has  been  decreasing  ever  since. 

The  "  Christian  Democrats  "  or  "  Social  Catholics  "  are  few 
in  number.  They  advocate  social  reforms  with  socialistic  tend- 
encies, but  they  also  want  the  supremacy  of  the  church  and 
religion.  The  social  program  of  the  French  Christian  Democrats 
is  not  so  well-defined  as  that  of  the  Belgian  party  of  the  same 
name.  They  differ  from  the  Catholic  Conservatives  only  in  that 
they  desire  social  reforms  in  which  more  emphasis  is  laid  upon 
democratic  principles.  They  publish  an  organ  in  Paris,  Le  Peuple 
frangais,  the  editor  of  which  is  the  Abbe  Garnier.  It  is  in  Paris 
and  in  the  North  that  the  Christian  Democrats  are  most  active; 
but  without  a  great  degree  of  success,  especially  in  Paris.  The 
central  part  of  the  country  is  too  far  advanced  for  such  influences. 


1 14  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  Christian  Democracy  would,  however,  find  very  fertile  soil 
for  the  spread  of  its  doctrines  in  the  West,  in  Brittany,  where  the 
clergy  are  still  powerful ;  but  it  has  not  as  yet  extended  its  activity 
to  that  region,  and  if  later  on  it  should  desire  to  do  so,  it  may  be 
too  late,  as  the  ground  will  then  have  been  occupied  by  the 
Socialists. 

Tlie  Catholic  Conservatives  are  old  Monarchists  and  Imperial- 
ists who  care  more  for  the  clerical  than  for  the  royal  power,  and 
would  be  satisfied  if  they  could  be  masters  of  the  republic  and 
govern  it  so  as  to  maintain  the  principles  of  a  social  hierarchy. 
They  are  quite  willing  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  humble, 
but  they  propose  to  do  this  through  charity,  and  not  through  the 
principle  of  equity.  The  church  is  for  them  a  spiritual  as  well  as  a 
temporal  power,  which  must  govern  souls  from  all  points  of  view. 
This  pre-eminence  belongs  to  her  by  right.  These  Catholic  Con- 
servatives have  numerous  points  of  contact  with  the  Christian 
Democrats  or  Social  Catholics.  The  leaders  of  the  movement 
are  generally  members  of  religious  orders  —  Jesuits,  Franciscans, 
and  Dominicans  —  or  laymen  belonging  to  the  "Third  Order"  of 
the  Franciscans  or  Jesuits. 

This  "  Third  Order "  possesses  a  very  strong  organization. 
Its  membership  is  composed  of  women  as  well  as  men.  It  has 
local  groups,  with  a  president,  a  secretary,  and  a  treasurer.  The 
president  merely  communicates  with  a  sort  of  directing  committee, 
which  works  on  the  mass  of  the  initiated  through  him.  It  is 
therefore  difficult  to  know  the  leaders,  who  are  generally  Jesuit 
or  Franciscan  friars.  Nor  are  the  lay  members,  as  a  rule,  known. 
It  was  said  —  and  it  is  probably  true  —  that  the  Comte  de  Mun, 
a  deputy,  and  Admiral  de  Cuverville,  among  others,  are  members 
of  the  Third  Order.  Among  the  vanguard  of  Jesuits  who  are 
supposed  to  have  a  leading  influence  we  may  mention  Fathers 
Dulac  and  de  Pascal ;  and  among  the  Dominican  friars.  Fathers 
Maumus  and  Olivier.  The  religious  congregations  having  a 
secret  organization,  there  is  no  proof  that  those  whose  names  are 
given  to  the  public  are  the  real  leaders  of  Catholic  politics.  These 
may  very  well  be  persons  quite  unknown  to  the  public.  One  fact 
is  certain  —  that  in  a  great  number  of  the  departments  of  France, 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  1 1 5 

ever  since  the  dispersion  of  the  religious  orders,  there  has  been  a 
Jesuit  father  who  is  closely  mixed  up  in  politics  and  seems  to  give 
the  keynote  in  the  Conservative  concert.  Besides,  the  Jesuits  have 
divested  themselves  of  their  former  frocks  to  become  secular 
priests.  Such  men  are,  in  two  of  the  departments  of  Brittany, 
the  Jesuits  de  Sesmaisons  and  Le  Mareschal.  Another  thing  that 
is  certain  is  that  in  the  general  conduct  of  Catholic  politics  the 
secular  clergy  —  archbishops,  bishops,  and  rectors  —  have  a  very 
small  share.  The  power  is  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  regular 
clergy  and  laymen. 

The  Catholic  Conservatives  possess  several  papers  in  Paris. 
These  are  L'Univers  et  le  Fonde,  La  Verite  frangaise,  and  La 
Croix.  The  latter  is  represented  in  the  provinces  by  numerous 
other  Croix,  as  the  principal  town  of  nearly  every  department  has 
a  Croix  of  its  own,  which  often  bears  the  name  of  the  depart- 
ment; ior  instsince,  La  Croix  des  cotes  du  Nord.  The  circulation 
of  La  Croix  is  considerable,  both  in  Paris  and  in  the  provinces, 
and  is  said  to  exceed  1,500,000  copies.  The  price  of  all  these 
papers  —  Imperialist,  Royalist,  Nationalist,  and  Social  Catholic  — 
is  generally  one  cent  (five  centimes).  Le  Gaulois  and  La  Gazette 
de  France  are  sold  at  three  cents. 

Besides  their  daily  in  Paris,  the  political  parties  have  a  num- 
ber of  papers  in  the  provinces  which  are  published  one,  two,  or 
three  times  a  week.  These  provincial  papers  are  read  by  only  a 
narrow  circle.  They  often  reproduce  the  leading  articles  of 
Drumont,  Paul  de  Cassagnac,  Rochefort,  and  other  leading 
journalists.  Thus,  some  Parisian  papers  with  a  small  circulation 
have  more  influence  than  those  with  a  large  issue.  The  Parisian 
paper  penetrates  relatively  little  into  the  country,  because  the 
peasant,  as  a  rule,  does  not  read  much,  partly  through  economy 
and  partly  because  he  has  not  acquired  an  interest  in  reading. 

In  addition  to  their  daily  press,  the  political  parties  control 
several  periodicals.  The  Nationalists  have  Les  Annates  de  la 
Patrie  frangaise  and  V Action  frangaise,  in  which  latter  Charles 
Maurras  and  Vaugeois,  both  Royalists,  write.  The  Catholic  Con- 
servatives and  Social  Catholics  have  Les  £tudes,  published  by  the 
Jesuits;   La  Revue  thomiste,  published  by  the  Dominicans;   La 


1 1 6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Quinzaine,  edited  by  M.  Fonssagrive;  Le  Correspondant,  the 
beautiful  Liberal  Catholic  review;  and  La  Reforme  sociale  and 
La  Science  sociale,  two  periodicals  which  defend  the  sociological 
theories  of  Le  Play.  Some  of  these  periodicals  have  a  large  circu- 
lation; Le  Correspondant,  for  instance,  prints  15,000  copies,  and 
La  Quinzaine  8,000.  The  last  two  of  the  above-mentioned  have  a 
very  small  circulation.  Les  £tudes  and  La  Revue  thomiste  are 
rather  abstruse  in  their  treatment  of  political  subjects,  and  philos- 
ophy occupies  a  large  share  of  their  space.  Le  Correspondant 
and  La  Quinzaine  are  periodicals  of  general  interest  which  devote 
much  attention  to  the  politics  of  the  day. 

The  shades  of  opinion  of  the  parties  are  sometimes  so  little 
differentiated  and  so  numerous  that  it  is  difficult  to  estimate  the 
number  of  their  adherents.  The  total  number  of  Catholic  Con- 
servatives, Social  Catholics,  Nationalists,  Anti-Semites,  and 
"Rallies"  may  be  roughly  given  as  2,325,000. 

The  Liberal  Republican  or  Progressist  Republican  party  is 
wealthy,  composed,  as  it  is,  principally  of  rich  manufacturers, 
merchants,  financiers,  and  big  landowners,  who  for  traditional  or 
other  reasons  cannot  belong  to  any  of  the  other  factions  of  the 
great  Liberal  party  in  formation.  Naturally  enough,  all  those 
depending  upon  the  great  capitalists  follow  them  in  their  political 
opinions.  The  membership  of  this  party  may  be  estimated  at 
1,675,000.  It  is,  above  all,  conservative.  It  is  quite  willing  to 
improve  the  conditions  of  the  workingmen  and  the  peasants 
through  protective  labor  laws  or  a  tariff,  but  it  has  no  wish  what- 
ever to  undertake  any  of  the  great  social  reforms  which  the 
Socialist  Radical  and  Socialist  parties  demand.  One  may  say 
that  the  only  difference  between  the  Progressist  Republicans  and 
the  Catholic  Conservatives  or  "  Rallies  "  is  that  republicanism  is 
of  older  date  with  the  former  than  with  the  latter. 

The  Progressist  Republicans  possess  a  number  of  influential 
papers,  such  as  Le  Figaro,  Le  Journal  des  Debats,  La  Liberte,  Le 
Soir,  and  La  Republique  frangaise.  Le  Figaro,  edited  by  Gaston 
Calmette,  has  now  lost  the  importance  it  formerly  had.  Its 
political  influence  would  be  a  negligible  quantity,  were  it  not  for 
its  numerous  foreign  readers,  who  still  see  in  it  what  it  once  was. 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  1 17 

but  is  no  longer  —  namely,  the  great  organ  of  France,  we  may 
even  say  of  Paris,  par  excellence.  Its  sale  is  32,000  copies,  at 
three  cents  each.  Le  Journal  des  Debats,  edited  by  M.  de  Naleche, 
is  always  admirably  written,  but  its  circulation  is  very  small  — 
only  four  or  five  thousand  copies.  It  is  more  serious  and  less 
worldly  than  Le  Figaro,  and  sells  at  two  cents.  La  Liberie  is 
edited  by  M.  Berthoulat,  a  Progressist  Republican  deputy,  and  its 
chief  contributor  is  Maurice  Spronck,  another  Nationalist  deputy. 
The  number  of  copies  published  is  22,000,  sold  at  one  cent.  It  is 
an  evening  paper,  very  seriously  written,  with  a  good  news 
service  and  a  capable  editorial  staff.  La  Republique  frangaise  was 
formerly  edited  by  Jules  Meline.  the  well-known  Progressist 
Republican  deputy.  M.  Latapie  is  now  filling  his  place.  The 
political  shade  of  this  paper  is  always  the  same.  Its  circulation  is 
seven  or  eight  thousand.  Of  Le  Soir  we  shall  say  nothing,  as  it 
is  read  only  in  Paris,  by  financiers  and  politicians. 

L^  Temps,  the  daily  sale  of  which  amounts  to  33,000  copies, 
sold  at  three  cents,  has  M.  Hement,  a  Jew,  for  its  editor-in-chief. 
Its  position  is  somewhat  different  from  that  of  the  other  Pro- 
gressist newspapers.  Although  it  is  not  Radical,  its  opposition 
to  the  Combes  cabinet  was  only  intermittent,  though  the  latter 
showed  decidedly  Radical  proclivities.  It  was  even  often 
employed  as  the  semi-official  organ  of  the  cabinet.  It  is  an  even- 
ing paper,  with  a  good  domestic  and  foreign  news  service,  and 
is  the  great  source  from  which  the  other  Parisian  and  provincial 
papers  borrow,  thus  reducing  their  expenses  for  news  to  a 
minimum. 

Conservative  Republicanism  is  defended  by  numerous  peri- 
odicals: La  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  La  Revue  politique  et 
parlementaire,  and  sometimes  also  La  Revue  de  Paris,  which  is 
open  to  Radical  doctrine.  The  old  and  celebrated  Revue  des 
Deux  Mondes  is  managed  by  M.  Brunetiere,  whose  Catholic 
tendencies  are  well  known.  It  has  tended,  and  is  still  tending, 
toward  the  Catholic  Conservative  party  —  a  fact  which  has  served 
to  prejudice  many  readers  against  it.  The  number  of  its  sub- 
scribers probably  does  not  now  reach  20,000,  while  formerly  it 
had  a  large  circulation.     Le  Bulletin  politique,  which  is  con- 


1 18  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

sistently  Conservative  Republican,  is  edited  by  Francis  Charmes, 
a  politician  of  great  ability.  La  Revue  politique  et  parlementaire, 
edited  by  M.  Fournier,  has  a  much  smaller  circulation.  It  som.e- 
times  accepts  articles  v^ritten  by  Radicals,  but  it  clearly  prefers 
the  ideas  of  Republican  Conservatism  represented  in  Parliament 
by  M.  Meline  and  M.  Ribot.  La  Revue  de  Paris  contains  few 
studies  in  French  home  politics,  and  those  published  are  usually 
of  a  Progressist  Republican  color. 

All  the  political  groups  last  mentioned  tend  to  merge  into  a 
single  party,  a  great  Republican  Conservative  party.  The  num- 
ber of  their  adherents  aggregates  approximately  4,970,000.  They 
do  not  call  for  any  thoroughgoing  social  transformation :  neither 
the  separation  of  church  and  state,  nor  an  income  tax,  nor  the 
socialization  of  industries  and  means  of  transportation.  Though 
they  accept  the  principle  of  protective  laws  for  the  working  class, 
they  want  to  frame  the  laws  so  that  the  workman  will  always 
remain  under  the  guardianship  of  the  state.  Above  all  they  are 
conservative.  In  the  country  they  organize  lectures  and  various 
associations  of  men  and  women,  such  as  "  L' Action  liberale,"  "  La 
Ligue  de  la  Patrie  frangaise,"  "La  Ligue  anti-semitique,"  and 
"  Le  Grand  Occident  de  France."  The  two  last-named  are  wast- 
ing away  and  retain  only  nominal  existence.  It  was  the  Grand 
Occident  of  France  which  was  responsible  for  the  famous  siege  in 
Paris  during  the  ministry  of  Waldeck-Rousseau.  Its  instigator 
was  Jules  Guerin,  who  was  convicted  by  the  Supreme  Court  in 
1899,  and  is  now  living  in  Brussels.  The  women  make  house-to- 
house  canvasses,  especially  in  the  small  towns  and  in  the  country, 
among  botli  the  poor  and  the  rich,  to  collect  funds  for  the  political, 
and  particularly  for  the  electoral,  campaigns.  The  Republican 
Conservative  party  is  notably  richer,  and  disposes  of  much  more 
money,  than  its  opponents.  This  may  be  easily  understood  when 
it  is  remembered  that  the  majority  of  the  capitalists  —  manu- 
facturers, merchants,  financiers,  landowners  —  belong  to  this 
party. 

Opposed  to  the  Conservative  party  stands  the  great  party,  also 
in  formation,  of  political  and  social  reform.  This  party  is  com- 
posed of  the  Radicals,  the  Socialist  Radicals,  the  Reformatory 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  1 1 9 

Socialists,  and  the  Revolutionary  Socialists.  Besides  these,  there 
are  the  Communistic  Anarchists, 

The  Communistic  Anarchists  are  few  in  number,  but  include 
several  eminent  personalities,  and  through  their  propaganda 
wield  a  great  influence  among  the  trades-unionists  of  the  labor 
exchanges  (bourses  de  travail).  They  spread  their  doctrine  by 
means  of  weekly  papers  and  lectures.  Les  Temps  nouveaux, 
UEnnemi  du  Peuple,  and  Le  Lihertaire,  with  Jean  Grave,  P. 
Delesale,  Charles  Albert,  and  Giraud  as  the  leading  writers,  are 
the  principal  Anarchist  organs.  Besides,  there  spring  up  from 
time  to  time  ephemeral  papers  which  disappear  soon  after  seeing 
the  light.  The  principal  lecturers  are  Sebastien  Faure  and  Giraud. 
Lately  the  Anarchists  are  often  called  "Libertarians."  The 
anarchistic  movement  is  no  longer  talked  about  as  it  used  to  be, 
and  the  intellectual  class  does  not  follow  it  as  it  formerly  did. 
Some  of  its  most  active  agitators,  like  fimile  Fouget,  who  was 
creator  and  editor  of  the  famous  Pere  Peinard,  have  gone  over  to 
trades-unionism.  M.  Pouget  is  now  one  of  the  editors  of  La  Voix 
du  Peuple,  the  organ  of  the  General  Federation  of  Labor  at  the 
Labor  Exchange  of  Paris.  Here  exists  an  active  center  of 
"Libertarian  Socialism."  Its  influence  is  felt  by  all  trades- 
unionists,  who  are  thus  kept  away  from  the  electoral  strife,  and 
from  the  political  parties  of  the  Reformatory  and  the  Revolution- 
ary Socialists.  In  short,  except  for  a  few  scattered  individuals 
among  the  intellectuals,  one  may  say  that  there  are  not  now  any 
Communistic  Anarchists.  But  the  doctrines  of  liberty,  of  liberta- 
rian organizations,  have  pervaded  the  labor  and  socialistic  circles  ; 
and  thus  we  are  in  the  presence  of  a  strong  libertarian  movement 
toward  a  freely  organized  society. 

The  Radical  Republicans,  or  simply  Radicals,  are  the  strong- 
est group  of  the  Reform  party  now  in  formation.  Their  number 
may  be  estimated  at  2,780,000.  The  Socialist  Radicals  do  not 
number  more  than  1,890,000.  It  is  especially  from  the  southern, 
eastern,  and  central  parts  of  France  that  the  ranks  of  the  Radicals 
and  Socialist  Radicals  are  recruited.  In  the  West,  the  North,  and 
the  Northwest  the  people  are  prevailingly  conservative.  There 
are,  however,  a  few  centers  of  Socialists,  both  Reformatory  and 


1 20  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Revolutionary,  in  some  regions  of  Normandy,  Brittany,  and 
Picardy.  The  Socialist  groups  are  many,  well  disciplined,  and 
active  in  French  Flanders,  the  Artois,  the  central  provinces 
(Berry,  etc.),  the  East  (Bourgogne,  Ardennes),  Provence,  and 
also  in  Bordelais  and  Languedoc. 

The  Radical  newspapers  are  Le  Gil  Bias,  with  a  sale  of  10,000 
copies,  edited  by  MM.  Perivier  and  Ollendorf,  and  with  Ernest 
Charles  as  editorial  writer;  Le  Matin,  with  a  sale  of  600,000 
copies,  and  with  Charles  Laurent,  Harduin,  and  ex-Captain 
Humbert  as  its  chief  contributors;  Le  Petit  Parisien,  which 
belongs  to  Pierre  Dupuis,  a  deputy  and  former  minister,  1,500,- 
000  copies  of  which  are  issued  daily ;  and  Le  Radical,  which  pub- 
lishes 48,000  copies.  Le  Radical  is  edited  by  M.  Maujan,  a 
deputy,  and  belongs  to  Victor  Simond,  the  owner  of  L'Aurore, 
the  Socialist  Radical  paper  of  M.  Clemenceau.  It  was  formerly 
edited  by  Henry  Maret,  a  deputy,  who  is  now  a  contributor  to 
Le  Rappel.  The  circulation  of  the  latter  is  20,000  copies;  its 
manager  is  Charles  Bos;  it  is  Radical,  though  in  practice  dis- 
senting from  the  politics  of  the  Radical  party,  as  it  was  opposed  to 
the  Combes  ministry.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Le  Siecle,  edited 
by  M.  de  Lanessan,  the  minister  of  marine  in  the  cabinet  of 
Waldeck-Rousseau.  The  chief  contributor  to  this  paper  is  M. 
Cornely,  who  ten  years  ago  was  still  a  Royalist  and  a  Catholic. 
We  may  add  to  this  list  of  Radical  papers  Le  Signal,  the  organ  of 
the  Protestant  church,  and  consequently  very  clerical. 

The  Socialist  Radical  newspapers  are  La  Lanterne,  which  is 
first  and  foremost  an  anti-clerical  paper,  and  has  a  circulation  of 
42,000;  and  L'Aurore,  the  sale  of  which  does  not  exceed  28,000 
copies,  though  its  editor,  Georges  Clemenceau,  is  perhaps  the 
most  remarkable  politician  of  France. 

We  have  been  talking  so  far  only  of  the  Parisian  press.  In 
the  provinces  there  is  a  veritable  swarm  of  papers.  Each  depart- 
mental capital,  each  big  town,  possesses  several  daily,  bi-weekly, 
or  tri-weekly  papers,  of  the  most  diverse  opinions.  We  have  seen 
that  there  exist  a  whole  provincial  series  of  Croix,  the  organs  of 
the  Catholics.  We  might  also  have  mentioned  a  similar  series  of 
Nouvellistes,  found  in  many  cities,  and  affiliated  with  the  Con- 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  121 

servative  party ;  also  a  number  of  papers,  of  rather  small  circula- 
tion, but  of  considerable  influence  in  their  respective  regfions. 
Most  of  these  dailies  are  Progressist  Republican.  Sometimes, 
however,  they  show  tendencies  toward  a  more  advanced  position. 

The  organs  of  Radicalism  in  the  provinces  are  many  and  diffi- 
cult to  enumerate.  They  include  one  or  two  monthly  and  weekly 
reviews,  but  have  much  difficulty  in  maintaining  themselves,  as 
their  circulation  is  limited.  Radicalism  has  also  smaller  organs 
of  propaganda,  such  as  Les  Annales  de  le  Jeunesse  la'ique,  with  a 
circulation  of  nearly  10,000  —  a  small  monthly  review  appealing 
especially  to  a  public  of  school-teachers;  Pages  litres,  edited  by 
Charles  Guieysse,  whose  Socialistic  and  even  Anarchistic  tend- 
encies are  much  marked;  and  Les  Cahiers  de  la  Quinzaine, 
which,  like  the  preceding,  is  more  Socialistic  than  Radical,  and  is 
edited  by  M.  Peguy. 

Every  year  the  Radical  and  Socialist  Radical  parties  hold  a 
general  congress,  where  all  the  delegates  of  the  groups  that  follow 
Radicalism  meet.  Frequently  these  groups  are  electoral  com- 
mittees which  live  only  during  the  period  of  the  election.  They 
have  but  a  small  number  of  members,  and  sometimes  the  delegate 
appoints  himself.  The  Radical  party  has  no  such  organization  as 
the  Socialist  party.  The  Radical  and  Socialist  Radical  congress 
appoints  from  among  its  members  an  executive  committee. 
Recently  the  president  of  this  committee  was  M.  Berteaux,  a 
deputy  who  served  as  minister  of  war  in  the  Combes  cabinet.  Its 
president  is  now  Jean  Bourrat,  a  deputy.  The  difference  between 
the  Socialist  Radicals  and  the  Radicals  lies  in  the  varying  degree 
of  emphasis  which  they  place  upon  democratic  reform. 

As  we  have  already  seen,  French  conservatism  has  a  live 
organ  in  the  "Third  Order."  Radicalism  possesses  a  similar 
organ  in  Freemasonry,  represented  especially  by  the  "Grand 
Orient  of  France."  It  is  difficult  to  ascertain  the  numbers  in  this 
secret  association.  It  is  known  that  they  are  divided  into  lodges, 
each  of  which  has  a  president,  who  is  styled  "Venerable,"  and 
several  other  officers.  There  may  be  several  lodges  in  the  same 
town,  according  to  its  importance.  The  Freemasons  of  the  Grand 
Orient  of  France  hold  an  annual  convention.    Though  secret,  this 


122  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

convention  was  freely  discussed  in  the  press  this  year.  It  appoints 
a  permanent  council,  which  is  charged  with  the  direction  of 
French  Masonic  affairs.  This  council  is  called  the  "Council  of 
Order."  Its  president  is  M.  Lafferre,  a  deputy  and  a  barrister. 
Besides  the  Grand  Orient  of  France,  and  in  friendly  relations 
with  it,  there  are  the  "  Grand  Lodge  of  France "  and  the 
"  Supreme  Council "  for  France  and  its  dependencies.  These 
constitute  what  is  commonly  called  the  "  Scottish  Rite."  It 
appears  that  the  influence  of  the  Scottish  Rite  Masons  is  less  than 
that  of  the  Grand  Orient,  whose  lodges  cover  the  whole  country. 

Republicans  of  all  shades  of  opinion  live  harmoniously  side  by 
side  in  these  Masonic  lodges.  M.  Bonnet,  the  orator  of  the  last 
convention,  said  in  his  speech,  as  reported  by  the  newspapers : 
"We  are  the  only  association  —  and  we  are  proud  and  happy  to 
say  so — where  moderate  but  true  Republicans,  Radicals,  Social- 
ist Radicals,  Socialists,  and  Libertarians  discuss  together  all  the 
political,  economic,  and  social  problems."  It  seems,  however, 
from  what  is  known  of  the  lodges,  that  the  great  majority  of  Free- 
masons are  Radicals,  with  a  Socialist  minority  in  Paris,  Mar- 
seilles, and  other  large  cities.  As  for  Libertarians  and  Anarchists, 
their  number  is  very  small. 

The  tendencies  and  program  of  Freemasonry  may  be  con- 
sidered as  those  of  the  Radical  and  Socialist  Radical  parties.  The 
Grand  Orient  of  France  is  unanimously  anti-clerical.  Its  members 
one  and  all  demand  the  separation  of  church  and  state.  Once  this 
goal  has  been  attained  —  and  it  has  the  first  place  upon  its 
program  —  it  will  work  for  the  political  "  purification "  of  the 
state  functionaries;  that  is,  the  appointment  to  government 
positions  of  such  persons  only  as  have  proved  themselves  to  be 
good  republicans.  It  desires  a  state  monopoly  of  all  elementary 
instruction,  thus  completely  debarring  the  clergy  from  teaching. 
It  favors  laws  increasing  the  liberty  of  citizens  with  respect  to 
divorce,  the  press,  etc.  It  advocates  democratic  legislation, 
improving  the  condition  of  the  working  classes  in  city  and  coun- 
try, making  taxes  weigh  more  heavily  upon  the  rich  than  upon 
the  poor,  providing  for  old-age  pensions,  introducing  an  inheri- 
tance and  an  income  tax,  fixing  a  weekly  holiday,  etc.     Aside 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  123 

from  the  question  of  the  separation  of  church  and  state,  and  the 
destruction  of  the  last  remnant  of  the  political  power  of  the 
church,  the  Freemasons  are,  however,  not  entirely  agreed  on  all  of 
these  points,  some  favoring  a  more  thoroughgoing  scheme  of 
democratic  reform  than  others. 

We  must  also  mention  the  National  Association  of  Free- 
thinkers of  France,  with  Ferdinand  Buisson,  a  deputy,  as  its 
president.  In  this  association  we  find  Radicals,  Socialists,  and 
Anarchists  of  both  sexes.  The  Grand  Orient  of  France  is  not 
open  to  women.  The  Association  of  Freethinkers  has  members 
scattered  all  over  the  country.  Some  of  these  have  organized  local 
groups.  Their  number  is  still  restricted  —  4,500 — the  associa- 
tion being  quite  young.  Its  purpose  is  to  search  for  truth,  the 
liberation  of  minds  from  all  confessional  practices,  and  the  laiciza- 
tion  of  education  and  morals. 

Socialism  is  divided  into  two  great  factions — the  Revolu- 
tionary Socialists  and  the  Reformatory  Socialists.  The  official 
name  of  the  former  is  the  "  Socialist  Party  of  France ; "  the  latter 
is  called  the  "  French  Socialist  Party."  The  former  is  known  by 
the  initials  of  the  French  title,  P.  S.  D.  F. ;  the  latter,  as  P.  S.  F. 
Each  of  these  parties  holds  an  annual  congress,  and  is  managed 
by  a  committee  of  delegates  appointed  by  this  congress  or  by  the 
district  federations  of  the  group.  The  groups  are  many,  and  those 
of  the  P.  S.  D.  F.  are  well  organized  and  strong.  The  member- 
ship of  the  P.  S.  D.  F.  is  recruited  chiefly  from  the  northern, 
central,  and  southeastern  parts  of  France,  and  from  Paris;  that 
of  the  P.  S.  F.  is  scattered  all  over  the  country.  Independent  of 
these  two  organized  factions,  there  are  the  "  Revolutionary 
Socialist  Labor  Party"  (Parti  Ouvrier  socialiste  revolutionnaire, 
P.  O.  S.  R.),  and  the  "Breton  Socialist  Federation"  {Federation 
socialiste  hretonne,  F.  S.  B.).  All  these  groups  together  comprise 
about  1,200,000  members,  of  whom  nearly  425,000  are  in  the 
P.  S.  D.  F.  Their  ideal  is  the  same :  the  transformation  of  the 
present  capitalistic  division  of  property  into  a  social  division ;  that 
is,  into  collective  or  common  ownership.  The  difference  is  in  their 
tactics.  And  yet,  when  one  examines  the  policies  carefully,  they 
are  more  different  in  form  than  in  substance. 


124  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  Reformatory  Socialists  propose  to  transform  society 
through  slow  and  successive  steps,  gaining  incessantly  on  the 
capitalistic  state.  They  are  inclined  toward  an  alliance  with  the 
Radical  and  Socialist  Radical  parties,  so  as  to  secure  a  govern- 
mental majority,  and  lead  the  government  on  a  more  and  more 
democratic  and  socialistic  road.  They  therefore  accept  com- 
promises and  somewhat  modify  their  ideal.  The  Revolutionary 
Socialists,  on  the  other  hand,  are  opposed  to  any  form  of  alliance 
or  union.  They  want  a  party  independent  of  all  others,  preach 
incessantly  the  socialistic  ideal,  and  concern  themselves  about 
reform  only  to  the  extent  of  accepting  them  when  they  emanate 
from  the  bourgeois  groups,  using  them  as  a  means  for  exacting 
more.  They  depend  on  the  revolution  to  transform  society,  and 
that  transformation  must  be  complete  as  well  as  sudden. 

The  truth  is  that  this  difference  in  tactics  is  more  apparent 
than  real,  as  all  the  Socialist  members  of  Parliament  support  the 
present  government.  Ever  since  the  International  Congress  at 
Amsterdam,  each  faction  is  doing  its  utmost  to  effect  a  union  with 
the  other.  If  they  succeed  —  which  we  rather  doubt  —  there  will 
be  but  one  Socialist  party  in  France. 

The  leaders  of  the  P.  S.  D.  F.  are  Jules  Guesdes,  Paul 
Lafargue,  and  Dubreuilh,  without  mentioning  those  who  sit  in 
Parliament.  The  leaders  of  the  P.  S.  F.  are  nearly  all  deputies, 
^cept  Foumiere  and  Paul  Brousse,  who  is  a  member  of  the 
Municipal  Council  of  Paris. 

The  Socialists  draw  their  recruits  chiefly  from  the  ranks  of  the 
workingmen  of  the  cities,  and  from  the  young  professors  and 
school-teachers.  There  are  also  a  few  Socialist  groups  among  the 
peasants  and  the  vine-dressers  of  the  Southwest,  and  in  Bretagne- 
Vendee. 

There  are  in  Paris  three  Socialistic  dailies :  U Action,  edited 
by  Henry  Berenger,  which  has  a  circulation  of  60,000,  is  inti- 
mately associated  with  Freemasonry,  and  consequently  has 
Radical  tendencies;  La  Petite  Republique,  edited  by  Gerault 
Richard,  9.  deputy,  which  has  a  sale  of  72,000  copies;  and 
L'Humanite,  the  organ  of  Jean  Jaures,  which  has  a  circulation  of 
15,000.     There  are  no  dailies  belonging  to  the  Revolutionary 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  125 

Socialist  parties.  The  official  organ  of  the  P.  S.  D.  F.  is  Le 
Socialiste,  a  weekly  newspaper  which  attacks,  at  times  quite 
vehemently,  the  Reformatory  Socialists,  whom  it  calls  "  Confu- 
sionary  Socialists."  In  the  provinces  there  are  many  daily  and 
weekly  papers,  such  as  Le  Reveil  du  Nord  (Lille),  Le  Breton 
socialiste  (Morlaix),  etc.  There  are  three  Socialistic  periodicals : 
Le  Mouvement  socialiste,  edited  by  Hubert  Lagardelle,  which 
leans  toward  the  P.  S.  D.  F. ;  La  Vie  sociale,  edited  by  F.  de 
Pressense,  a  deputy;  and  La  Revue  socialiste,  the  manager  of 
which  is  Gustave  Rouanet,  a  deputy.  The  two  latter  have  close 
relations  with  the  P.  S.  F. 

Such  is  the  present  situation  of  the  political  parties  in  France. 
The  means  of  propaganda  of  which  they  all  make  use,  aside  from 
the  newspapers,  are  lectures  and  public  meetings.  The  Catholics 
and  Socialists  add  to  this  pamphlets  sold  for  one  or  two  cents 
apiece. 

The  political  situation  of  the  country  is  reflected  in  the  Cham- 
ber of  Deputies.  The  majority  that  supported  the  Combes 
ministry  from  1902  to  1905  was  composed  of  different  groups, 
namely:  the  "Democratic  Union,"  led  by  M.  fitienne;  the 
"  Radical  Left,"  led  by  M.  Sarrien ;  the  "  Socialist  Radical  Left," 
led  by  Bienvenu  Martin ;  the  "  Group  of  Independent  Socialists," 
with  Jean  Jaures,  Aristide  Briand,  and  F.  de  Pressense  as  leaders ; 
and  the  "  Group  of  Revolutionary  Socialists,"  with  fidouard 
Vaillant  and  Marcel  Sembat  as  leaders.  The  majority  was  about 
thirty  votes.  Besides  these  groups  there  were  the  so-called  "  Dis- 
senting Radicals,"  who  were  anxious  to  hold  the  portfolios  in  the 
new  cabinet,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  form  an  alliance  with  the  Con- 
servatives of  all  shades  in  order  to  fight  the  ministry  of  M. 
Combes. 

M.  Combes,  who  is  seventy-two  years  old,  was  appointed 
president  of  the  council  in  1902,  after  the  resignation  of  the 
ministry  of  Waldeck-Rousseau.  He  thus  held  office  nearly  three 
years.  His  cabinet  was  not  very  homogeneous,  as  it  contained 
Moderate  Republicans,  such  as  Rouvier  (finance),  Chaumie 
(public  instruction),  and  Valle   (justice),  as  well  as  Socialist 


126  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Radicals,  like  Pelletan  (marine)  and  Berteaux  (war).  In  spite 
of  this  lack  of  homogeneity,  the  Combes  cabinet  resisted  all  the 
combined  attacks  of  the  Right  (Liberal  Catholic  Republicans)  and 
the  Left  (Dissenting  Radicals).  These  were  sometimes  very 
violent. 

The  policy  of  M.  Combes's  cabinet  was  above  all  anti-clerical. 
He  enforced  the  law  of  Waldeck-Rousseau  against  the  religious 
congregations  and  the  law  forbidding  these  to  teach.  He  broke 
off  all  diplomatic  relations  with  the  Holy  See.  He  also  paved  the 
way  for  the  separation  of  church  and  state,  which  will  probably  be 
passed  by  the  Chamber  before  July,  so  that  it  may  pass  the  Senate 
this  year.  We  may  therefore  presume  that  the  year  1906  will 
see  the  separation  as  an  accomplished  fact.  There  are  some  who 
doubt  that  there  will  be  a  majority  for  it  in  the  Chamber,  but  we 
do  not  share  this  doubt.  Parliament  will  pass  the  bill,  because  it 
realizes  that  public  opinion  demands  it.  Besides,  the  Radical 
papers,  the  Freemasons,  and  the  groups  of  free  thought  are  mak- 
ing an  active  propaganda  to  that  end.  The  fight  is  carried  on  with 
eagerness  on  the  part  of  the  Radicals.  On  the  Catholic  side  many 
wish  the  separation,  hoping  to  use  the  liberty  which  will  result  to 
regain  their  lost  power.  M,  Combes  was  in  the  habit  of  taking 
the  hints  given  by  these  groups  in  the  Chamber  or  in  the  country 
at  large.  The  feature  which  most  distinguished  his  regime  from 
that  of  his  predecessor  was  the  fact  that  he  did  not  have  a  personal 
policy,  but  that  he  took  pains  to  find  out  in  what  direction  lay  the 
preference  of  the  parliamentary  majority  and  of  the  country,  thus 
following  the  opinion  of  the  nation  instead  of  leading  it.  He  did 
not  oppose  the  forward  march,  nor  did  he  promote  it.  During  the 
thirty  years  or  more  that  France  has  been  a  republic,  his  was  the 
first  really  republican  cabinet.  The  merit  of  M.  Combes  consists 
in  realizing  the  aspirations  of  the  majority  and  in  executing  its 
will. 

The  result  of  this  policy  was  that  great  influence  came  to  be 
vested  in  a  few  individuals  and  a  few  groups.  It  is  certain  that 
the  Grand  Orient  of  France  had  considerable  influence  over  M. 
Combes  personally,  and  consequently  over  the  whole  ministry.  The 
committee  composed  of  the  delegates  of  the  parliamentary  groups 


THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  IN  FRANCE  127 

of  the  majority,  of  whom  we  have  spoken  above,  exercised  a 
powerful  influence.  It  may  perhaps  be  said  that  it  was  M.  Jaures 
alone  who,  thanks  to  the  authority  which  he  derived  from  his  fame 
as  an  orator,  directed  the  policy  of  M.  Combes.  One  fact  is  cer- 
tain, namely,  that  he  saved  the  cabinet  from  defeat  three  or  four 
times.  Another  source  from  which  he  draws  his  power  springs 
from  the  fact  that  he  represents  the  Socialist  party  —  the  only 
party  which  has  an  ideal,  as  was  said  by  M.  Ripert,  a  Conserva- 
tive deputy,  who  added :  "  The  Socialist  Party  is  really  the  leader 
and  master  of  our  parliamentary  policy."  Thus  expressed,  it  is 
an  exaggeration;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Socialist 
party  is  a  very  influential  factor  in  the  guidance  of  the  politics  of 
France. 

This  is  why  the  social  reforms,  such  as  laws  for  the  protection 
of  the  working  classes  and  the  transformation  of  the  present  taxes 
into  an  income  tax,  are  studied  so  zealously  in  Parliament,  To  be 
sure,  this  zeal  is  only  relative,  and  does  not  satisfy  many  Social- 
ists ;  which  fact  is  easily  explained  when  it  is  remembered  that  the 
complete  understanding  regarding  the  religious  policy  which  pre- 
vails between  the  Radicals,  Socialist  Radicals,  and  Socialists  does 
not  extend  to  social  reforms,  with  respect  to  which  there  are 
different,  and  even  contrary,  opinions.  The  result  is  that,  while 
these  reforms  may  be  accomplished,  it  will  be  but  slowly  and 
gradually.  Indeed,  some  of  them,  too  socialistic  in  their  tenden- 
cies, did  not  win  a  majority  in  Parliament.  It  seems  probable, 
however,  that  the  social  laws  will  soon  be  passed :  the  reduction 
of  the  term  of  military  service  from  three  to  two  years,  old-age 
pensions  for  workingmen,  the  law  of  weekly  rest,  the  income  tax, 
etc.  Perhaps  the  present  Chamber  will  not  see  these  reforms 
carried  through,  its  term  expiring  in  May,  1906;  but  the  next  one 
will  certainly  carry  out  these  measures. 

In  its  religious  policy  the  cabinet  of  M.  Combes  advanced  with 
the  Left  toward  emancipation  from  all  state  religion.  In  this  it 
was  clearly  Radical.  It  was  in  accord  with  the  country;  for,  in 
spite  of  the  furious  assaults  of  the  opposition  and  the  money  used 
for  propaganda,  the  by-elections  nearly  always  gave  the  victory 
to  the  Radicals.    The  country  is  becoming  Radical,  and  is  gradu- 


128  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ally  drifting  toward  Socialism.  Already  in  1898,  writing  of  the 
parliamentary  elections,  we  commented  upon  this  fact  in 
L'Humanite  nouvelle.  Even  since  then  the  fact  has  become  more 
and  more  accentuated.  Frequently,  in  the  elections,  the  Royalist 
or  Bonapartist  gives  place  to  a  "  Rallie  "  or  a  Catholic  Republican, 
who  himself  makes  room  for  a  Progressist  Republican,  who  in  his 
turn  is  supplanted  by  a  Radical.  The  Radical  next  sees  his  votes 
given  to  a  Socialist  Radical,  who  in  turn  has  to  give  his  seat  to  a 
Socialist.  The  Radical  majority  is  gradually  increasing,  and  little 
by  little  it  is  becoming  impregnated  with  socialism.  It  may  there- 
fore be  predicted  that  the  future  ministries,  called  to  direct  the 
affairs  of  France,  will  have  a  long  life.  They  will  find  themselves 
in  the  presence  of  an  opposition  of  the  Right  which  will  go  on 
decreasing,  and  a  majority  in  which  the  extreme  Left,  with  its 
most  advanced  ideas,  will  continually  increase  in  number.  It  may 
be  presumed  with  a  fair  degree  of  certainty  that  the  policy  of 
France  will  tend  more  and  more  in  a  democratic  and  socialistic 
direction.  Gradually  it  will  give  to  the  nation  laws  improving  the 
condition  of  the  working  classes  of  city  and  country,  increasing 
the  civic  liberties,  reducing  the  burdens  of  the  proletarians  to 
shift  them  to  the  shoulders  of  the  capitalists,  and  even  socializing 
a  few  industries,  such  as  railways,  navigation,  etc. 

One  may  say,  without  fear  of  contradiction,  that  France,  after 
thirty  years  as  a  nominal  republic,  has  at  last  begyn  to  realize  the 
true  republic,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  majority  of  her 
people. 


REVIEWS 


Foundations  of  Sociology.  By  Edward  Alsworth  Ross.  New 
York:    The  Macmillan  Company.     Pp.  xiv-l-410. 

It  would  have  been  a  miracle  if  the  author  of  Social  Control  had 
been  able  to  follow  it  up  so  soon  with  another  equally  original  book. 
The  volume  before  us  traverses  ground  much  of  which  has  been 
often,  if  not  well,  surveyed  before.  The  unity  of  impression  made  by 
the  earlier  book  is  lacking  here,  although  the  studies  of  which  it  is 
composed  are  organized  to  serve  a  definite  purpose.  In  spite  of  these 
obvious  qualifications,  one  can  hardly  read  Foundations  of  Sociology 
without  a  sense  of  closing  the  Antean  circuit  with  reality. 

In  my  judgment,  Professor  Ross  is  as  hot  on  the  scent  of  the 
next  important  results  in  sociology  as  any  of  the  men  to  whom  we 
are  looking  for  additions  to  knowledge.  This  book  is,  on  the  whole, 
devoted  to  the  method,  rather  than  to  the  content,  of  knowledge.  It 
does  much  in  the  way  of  clearing  the  cobwebs  out  of  the  sociological 
skies.  It  is,  however,  a  general  survey  rather  than  a  treatise.  It  will 
be  profitable  reading  for  sufficiently  mature  students  who  are  making 
their  first  approach  to  sociology.  It  will  be  not  less  useful  to  older 
students  for  review  and  recapitulation.  At  the  same  time,  I  predict 
that  the  author  will  very  soon  think  beyond  certain  of  the  forms  in 
which  this  summary  leaves  mooted  questions.  Indeed,  it  seems  to 
me  that  he  has  not  quite  done  justice  to  the  full  results  of  his  own 
analysis  up  to  date.  He  has  left  some  things  in  less  satisfactory 
shape  than  other  parts  of  his  work  seem  to  dictate. 

For  instance  (p.  6)  he  defines  sociology  by  implication  as  the 
science  of  "  social  phenomena."  As  a  way  of  putting  it,  this  seems 
to  me  inadequate  and  unfortunate.  No  one  has  better  thought  out 
the  reasons  why  than  Professor  Ross  himself.  If  we  stickle  for  the 
strict  meaning  of  phrases,  there  is  almost  a  contradiction  of  terms  in 
the  expression  "  science  of  phenomena."  Considering  phenomena 
simply  as  such,  we  exclude  the  relations  which  are  the  conditions  of 
science.  Every  science  must  deal  with  some  sort  of  relations  between 
phenomena.  In  chap,  i,  therefore,  we  have,  so  far  as  mere  words  go, 
a  much  less  mature  conception  of  the  scope  of  sociology  than  the  one 
contained  in  chap.  4.    On  p.  91  the  author  virtually  reaches  the  con- 

129 


130  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

elusion  that  sociology  is  the  seienee  of  the  social  process,  that  is,  of 
the  whole  system  of  relations  between  social  phenomena.  The  dis- 
cussion of  the  difference  between  history  and  sociology  (pp.  8i  f.) 
expresses  the  substance  of  my  reasons  for  preferring  the  later  to  the 
earlier  formula. 

Again,  the  author  sometimes  says  very  severe  things,  which  are 
not  quite  consistent  with  his  own  professions  of  faith  in  a  slightly 
different  connection.    For  instance,  he  says  (p.  71)  : 

That  bizarre  forerunner  of  sociology,  the  philosophy  of  history,  assumed 
that  the  experiences  of  a  particular  society  —  Sicily  or  Poland,  for  example  — 
are  but  parts  of  a  single  mighty  process}  The  life  of  humanity  —  or  at  least 
of  occidental  humanity  —  can  be  brought  under  a  single  formula,  etc.,  etc. 

But  on  p.  14  Professor  Ross  had  summed  up  the  superiority  of 
sociology  to  older  social  philosophy  in  the  assertion  that  institutions 
are  now  "studied  rather  as  different  aspects  of  one  social  evolu- 
tion/" If  it  is  a  virtue  for  the  sociologists  to  think  of  all  social 
phenomena  as  a  part  of  one  process,  why  was  it  a  vice  for  the 
philosophers  of  history  to  do  the  same  thing  ?  Is  not  the  difference 
in  the  nature  of  the  processes  posited  in  the  two  cases,  rather  than 
in  a  contrast  between  assuming  and  not  assuming  one  process  ? 

It  seems  to  me  that  Professor  Ross  has  not  fully  considered  the 
case  in  the  short  passage  on  the  science  of  religion  (pp.  16,  17). 
The  argument  of  the  book  as  a  whole  tends  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  science  of  religion  must  ultimately  become  a  chapter  in  sociology. 
But  in  this  passage  the  author  distinctly  disavows  this  conclusion. 
Was  it  not  in  the  interest  of  religion,  rather  than  the  science  of  reli- 
gion, that  he  was  moved  to  make  the  disclaimer?  No  division  of 
conduct  can  be  merely  a  chapter  of  a  pure  science ;  but  I  see  no 
escape  from  the  conclusion  that  sciences  of  abstracted  portions  of 
conduct  must  correlate  themselves  at  last  with  the  science  of  conduct 
in  general. 

One  of  the  most  searching  chapters  in  the  book  is  that  on  "  Social 
Laws."  It  provokes  a  great  many  questions  which  must  be  threshed 
out  in  due  time;  but  they  cannot  be  referred  to  with  advantage 
within  our  present  limits.  Has  the  author  been  happy,  however,  in 
formulating  his  first  count  against  the  philosophers  (p.  42)  ?  Have 
they  taught  us  to  be  too  "objective,"  or  not  objective  enough?  Is 
not  the  proper  indictment  brought  in  the  later  term  "  exteriority  " 

*  Italics  mine. 


REVIEWS  1 3 1 

(p.  54),  and  should  we  not  guard  the  former  term  against  com- 
promising associations? 

I  am  disposed  to  question  Professor  Ross's  appHcation  of  the 
terms  *Maw"  and  "generalization"  (p.  66);  and  it  seems  to  me 
that  in  the  last  two  paragraphs  of  the  chapter  (p.  69)  he  has  said 
"  social  law  "  when  he  meant  "  sociological  law." 

The  "  Map  of  the  Sociological  Field  "  (p.  98)  contains  so  many 
points  of  departure,  and  the  lines  of  connection  between  them  are  so 
complicated,  that  comment  must  be  reserved.  At  all  events,  the 
alterations  that  have  been  made  since  the  scheme  was  first  published  ^ 
show  that  the  author's  plan  of  campaign  is  developing,  and  that  in 
his  mind  there  is  a  large  tentative  element  in  the  whole  perspective. 
On  the  other  hand,  even  if  our  point  of  view  brings  out  a  very 
diflFerent  correlation  of  social  processes,  we  can  have  no  doubt  that 
the  frontier  of  discovery  will  be  securely  advanced  by  using  this 
plan  as  a  base  of  operations. 

Chap.  6,  "  The  Properties  of  Group  Units,"  fails  to  convince  me 
at  points  which  might  not  have  been  left  equally  questionable  if  the 
actual  working  approach  to  them  had  begun  with  p.  138,  thus  invert- 
ing the  order  of  argument.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  would  have  led 
to  something  more  than  mere  transposition  of  paragraphs.  Some 
closer  criticism  of  the  contents  would  have  been  suggested.  My 
contention  would  be  that  we  are  at  present  disposing  all  too  sum- 
marily of  the  perceptive  and  purposive  element  in  the  phenomena  of 
group-action,  and  crediting  to  the  purely  affective  element  a  ratio  of 
influence  which  final  analysis  will  considerably  reduce. 

In  the  beginning  of  chap.  7  Professor  Ross  has  wisely  qualified 
the  language  in  which  his  dissent  from  Professor  Giddings  was 
originally  expressed.'  The  change  is  merely  verbal,  however,  and 
the  chapter  aims  to  weaken  the  prestige  of  the  idea  that  "social  facts 
admit  of  a  double  interpretation,  the  objective  and  the  subjective." 
After  all,  are  the  two  views  as  far  apart  as  they  are  made  to  appear? 
Is  not  the  gist  of  the  matter  that  men  are  in  part  phenomena  of 
physical  nature,  as  really  as  the  winds  and  the  waves  and  the  trees, 
while  they  are  also  in  part  virtually  as  distinct  superimpositions  upon 
nature  as  though  they  were  shot  upon  the  planet  from  another 
cosmic  system?  Do  Giddings  and  Ross  really  differ  here,  or  is  the 
apparent  difference  merely  in  ways  of  getting  at  analysis  and  expres- 
sion of  the  different  species  of  factors  which  they  equally  recognize  ? 

'^American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  IX,  p.  206.  'Ibid.,  p.  526. 


132  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

There  is  an  issue  between  Professor  Ross  and  myself  about  my 
classification  of  human  interests  (p.  165).  One's  self-satisfaction 
can  certainly  not  be  inflated  by  failure  to  convince  so  acute  a 
thinker,  yet  in  a  case  about  which  one  feels  somewhat  secure,  the 
failure  may  be  accounted  for  as  due  to  faulty  expression,  rather  than 
to  essential  error.  Professor  Ross's  reason  for  rejecting  the  classifi- 
cation seems  to  me  like  refusal  to  group  the  states  of  our  Union  as 
"  eastern  and  western,"  on  the  ground  that  some  of  them  are 
Democratic  and  others  Republican. 

Our  queries  have  by  no  means  referred  to  the  most  important 
questions  raised  by  the  book.  These  could  hardly  be  treated  fairly 
without  entering  upon  more  extended  discussion  than  our  present 
limits  permit.  From  the  very  fact  that  the  author  is  on  the  skirmish 
line  of  method  and  theory,  his  positions  are  exposed,  but  not  neces- 
sarily weak.  As  we  intimated  above,  he  is  gaining  ground  as  surely 
as  any  scholar  in  our  field.  The  present  volume  can  hardly  fail  to 
serve,  for  some  time  to  come,  as  one  of  the  most  effective  path- 
breakers  in  sociological  inquiry. 

Albion  W.  Small. 


VAnnec  sociologique.    Publiee  sous  la  direction  d'^MiLE  Durk- 
HEiM.     Huitieme  annee   (1903-4).     Paris:     Alcan.     Pp. 
663. 
This  annual  occupies  an  important  place  in  our  literature,  and  it 
has  from  the  beginning  performed  a  useful  service.     We  have  to 
confess,  however,  that  we  have  never  been  quite  able  to  calculate  its 
personal  equation.     Its  judgments  about  sociological  work  do  not 
place  themselves  in  easily  definable  relations  with  those  of  any  other 
group  of  scholars  in  the  same  field.    The  point  of  view  occupied  by 
the  contributors  gives  an  outlook  that  can  hardly  seem  clear  to  any- 
body else. 

For  instance,  the  first  of  the  two  Memoires  originaux  in  the 
present  number  is  by  M.  H.  Bourgin,  and  is  entitled  "  Essai  sur  une 
forme  d'industrie:  I'industrie  de  la  boucherie  a  Paris  au  XIX« 
siecle."  The  writer  says  of  his  own  work  that  its  positive  results  are 
of  three  kinds :  first,  a  certain  number  of  facts ;  second,  certain 
causal  explanations;  third,  certain  hypothetical  indications  (p.  112). 
We  will  not  deny  that  the  results  exhibited  in  the  monograph  may 
have  each  of  those  values  in  a  degree  that  justifies  the  amount  of 
skilled  labor  evidently  expended  in  the  study.    From  all  that  appears 


REVIEWS  133 

in  the  monograph  itself,  however,  its  outcome  has  no  more  value  for 
a  general  explanation  of  society  than  an  equally  critical  study  of  the 
number,  kind,  and  location  of  buttons  on  the  costume  that  Henry 
VIII  wore  when  he  married  Anne  Boleyn.  The  meaning  of  tech- 
nique and  output  all  turns  upon  its  place  in  a  complete  methodo- 
logical system ;  and  in  the  absence  of  definite  instruction  about  the 
correlation  assumed,  we  cannot  decide  whether  the  author  has  a 
correct  or  an  incorrect  appraisal  of  the  place  of  his  work  in  the  scale 
of  sociological  values.  We  feel  this  same  uncertainty  about  the 
standard  of  judgment  which  the  reviewers  apply  when  they  pro- 
nounce upon  the  work  of  others. 

Of  course,  the  views  of  Professor  Durkheim  himself  are  familiar, 
and  in  reading  his  monograph  — "  Sur  I'organisation  matrimoniale 
des  societes  australiennes "  —  we  are  able  to  connect  it  with  his 
general  methodology.  The  position  of  no  other  contributor  is 
equally  well  known,  and  the  consequence  is  that  we  are  often  at  a 
loss  to  decide  how  much  or  how  little  the  opinions  imply. 

For  example,  an  estimate  of  Simmel's  "  Sociology  of  Conflict,"  ^ 
signed  "H.  H.,"  concludes  that  "des  tentatives  amhitieuses  comme 
celle  de  M.  Simmel  n'ajouteront  rien  a  notre  connaissance."  If 
Simmel's  method  of  analyzing  social  forms  purported  to  be  com- 
plete in  itself,  and  to  have  no  connections  with  other  ways  of  inquir- 
ing into  the  social  forms,  its  author  would  be  as  emphatic  as 
anybody  in  pronouncing  it  abortive.  A  writer  who  gives  no  evi- 
dence of  insight  into  the  relation  between  Simmel's  inquiries  into 
social  forms  and  his  whole  scheme  of  knowledge,  cannot  be  accepted 
as  a  competent  appraiser  of  his  work. 

A  brief  notice  of  Ross's  "  Moot  Points  in  Sociology  "  ^  concludes 
with  these  words :  "  Malgre  son  eclecticisme  et  ses  laborieuses  dis- 
tinctions de  conceptes,  M.  Ross  ne  semble  pas  avoir  eclairci  les 
questions  controverses  qu'il  agite:  ces  controverses  sont  d'aUleurs 
d'un  autre  temps."  We  would  not  imply  that  ambiguity  in  the  mind 
of  the  writer  as  to  the  trifling  accident  of  tense  clouds  his  title  to 
credit  for  a  first-rate  perception.  We  cordially  recommend  to  our 
worthy  friends  of  L'Annee  sociologique,  however,  that  they  atten- 
tively watch  "  M.  Ross,"  for  it  is  not  impossible  that  degrees  of 
othertimeliness  may  presently  be  measured  from  his  meridian. 

^American  Journal  of  Sociology,  VoL  IX,  pp.  490,  672,  798. 

*  Ibid.,  Vol.  IX ;  incorporated  into  The  Foundations  of  Sociology,  noticed 
above. 

A.  W.  S. 


134  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  Suffrage  Franchise  in  the  Thirteen  English   Colonies  in 
America.    By  Albert  Edward  McKinley.     (Publications 
of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  Series  in  History,  No.  2. ) 
Published  for  the  University.     Ginn  &  Co.,  selling  agents. 
Pp.  518. 
In  a  bulky  monograph  of  more  than  five  hundred  pages,  Mr. 
Albert  Edward  McKinley,  of  Philadelphia,  presents  the  results  of 
exhaustive  study  in  colonial  archives  to  determine  the  conditions  of 
the  suffrage  franchise.     After  an  appropriate  introductory  chapter 
on  "  Parliamentary  Suffrage  in  England  "  follow  thirteen  chapters, 
each  devoted  to  a  single  colony.    The  author  indicates  his  purpose  to 
have  been  "  to  present  the  dynamic  or  developmental  aspect  of  the 
subject,  rather  than  the  analytic;   he  has  not  been  content  with  a 
mere  summary  of  the  suffrage  qualifications  in  the  several  colonies, 
but  has  endeavored  to  trace  the  growth  of  the  colonial  ideals  and 
practices  respecting  the  elective  franchise."     What  seems  to  have 
been  a  most  thorough  examination  of  colonial  archives,  covering  a 
wide  range,  indicated  by  a  wealth  of  footnotes,  reveals  certain  con- 
clusions of  interest: 

1.  Political  rights  everywhere  were  restricted  to  males,  only  two 
cases  appearing  in  the  records  of  women  seeking  the  franchise. 

2.  The  legal  age,  twenty-one,  was  a  requirement  in  eleven  of  the 
colonies,  and  by  implication  in  the  other  two.  There  were  cases 
where  a  greater  age  was  required  under  certain  conditions. 

3.  There  were  limitations  regarding  race  and  nationality,  provi- 
sion being  made  for  naturalization,  limitations  of  religion  and  char- 
acter, restrictions  as  to  residence;  and  property  qualifications  of 
/arying  character  were  important  factors. 

4.  Some  special  features  of  interest  were  connected  with  free- 
manship  in  corporations ;  in  some  places  there  were  prerequisite 
qualifications  similar  to  the  English  borough  franchise ;  in  one  case, 
that  of  the  College  of  William  and  Mary,  the  president  and  six  mas- 
ters could  elect  a  member  of  the  house  of  burgesses. 

Mr.  McKinley's  volume  is  full  of  interest.  In  connection  with 
each  colony  the  narrative  style  is  followed,  and  the  text,  therefore, 
is  free  from  the  dulness  which  might  be  supposed  to  attend  a  dis- 
cussion of  details  of  so  dry  a  subject  as  electoral  qualifications. 
Taken  in  connection  with  Mr.  Bishop's  History  of  Elections  in  the 
Colonies,  the  whole  ground  seems  thoroughly  covered. 

F.  W.  S. 


REVIEWS  135 

La  Teorica  dell'  Individualismo  secondo  John  Stuart  Mill.     By 
A.  L.  Martinazzoli.     Milan:    Ulrico  Hoepli,  1905.     Pp. 
viii  +  352.    L.  4.50. 
There  is  likely  to  be  a  renewal  of  interest  in  the  social  philosophy 
of  John  Stuart  Mill  as  the  struggle  between  the  two  opposite  prin- 
ciples   of    individualism    and    collectivism    becomes    more    severe. 
Weapons  for  both  sides  may  be  forged  from  his  thought     The 
individualism  of  Liberty  and  the  socialism  of  his  Autobiography  and 
other  writing  have  doubtless  been  more  or  less  of  a  puzzle  to  his 
casual  readers.    We  have  in  this  volume  a  clearing  up  of  the  apparent 
inconsistency.    The  profound  and  original  ideas  of  Mill  in  regard  to 
social   life  are   set   forth   with   lucid   clearness.     The   criticism   is 
objective  and  penetrating,  though  genial.     The  book  is  edited  with 
the  usual  elegance  of  works  issued  by  I'Editore  Hoepli. 

I.  W.  H. 

Elementi  di  Sociologia.  By  Alessandro  Groppali.  Gerwa: 
Libreria  Moderna,  1905.  Pp.  xv  +  383.  L.  4. 
This  book  is  an  excellent  text  for  beginners  in  sociology,  and  may 
be  recommended  to  all  the  uninitiated  who  wish  to  acquaint  them- 
selves with  the  results  of  sociology  thus  far  attained.  It  comprises 
eleven  chapters  (lessons),  each  chapter  containing  at  its  close  a 
brief  bibliography.  The  author  presents  impartially  the  principal 
views  of  the  leading  sociologists,  European  and  American,  and 
treats  with  great  clearness  the  origin  and  evolution  of  economic, 
juridical,  political,  moral,  religious,  artistic,  and  scientific  phe- 
nomena. Nothing  equally  serviceable  for  the  purpose  avowed  has 
yet  appeared  in  English.    The  book  is  in  its  second  Italian  edition. 

I.    W.    HOWERTH. 


RECExNfT  LITERATURE 


BOOKS 


Abbot,  H.  L.  Problems  of  the  Panama 
canal ;  including  climatology  of  the 
isthmus,  physics  and  hydraulics  of 
the  river  Chagres,  cut  at  the  Con- 
tinental Divide,  and  discussions  of 
plans  for  the  waterway.  Macmillan. 
$1.50  net. 

Abraham,  W.  H.  Church  and  state  in 
England.     Longmans.     $1.40  net. 

Bain,  R.  N.  Scandinavia :  a  political 
history  of  Denmark,  Norway  and 
Sweden  from  1513  to  1900.  Mac- 
millan.    $2  net. 

Bourget,  E.  Considerations  sur  quel- 
ques  affections  pulmonaires  des 
ouvriers  Louilleurs.  Montpelier : 
Firmin,  Montane  et  Sicardi. 

Carman,  A.  R.  The  ethics  of  imperial- 
ism :  an  inquiry  whether  Christian 
ethics  and  imperialism  are  antago- 
nistic. Boston:  Turner  &  Co.  $1 
net. 

Castellane,  Comte  de.  Discours  sur  la 
separation  des  eglises  et  de  I'etat, 
prononce  a  la  Chambre  des  deputes. 
Paris :    Dupont. 

Cosentini,  F.  La  sociologie  gen6tique : 
essai  sur  la  pensee  et  la  vie  sociale 
prehistorique.  Paris :  Alcan.  Fr.  3. 
75. 

Davenport,  F.  M.  Primitive  traits  in 
religious  revivals.  Macmillan.  6s.  6d. 
net. 

Degrave,  J.  De  I'intervention  de  I'etat 
dans  la  fixation  des  tarifs  des  chemins 
de  fer  d'interet  general.  Toulouse : 
Riviere. 

Donisthorpe,  W.  Fiscal  reform.  Son- 
nenschein.     6d. 

Ghent,  W.  J.  Mass  and  class :  a  sur- 
vey of  social  divisions.  Macmillan. 
$0.25  net. 

Goyet,  L.  Le  domicile  de  secours  des 
enfants   assistes.      Lyon :     Schneider. 

Henderson,  G.  F.  R.  Science  of  war: 
essays  and  lectures.  Memoir  of 
author  by  Field-Marshall  Earl 
Roberts,  V.  C.     Longmans.     14s.  net. 

Home,  G.  Evolution  of  an  English 
town :  story  of  ancient  town  of 
Pickering    in    Yorkshire,    from    pre- 


historic times  to  1905.  Dent.  los. 
6d.  net. 

Industrial  problem :  William  L.  Bull 
lectures   for   1905.     Jacobs.     $1    net. 

Ireland,  A.  The  far  eastern  tropics : 
studies  in  the  administration  of  tropi- 
cal dependencies.     Houghton.  $2  net. 

Isambert,  G.  Les  idees  socialistes  en 
France  de  1815  a  1848.  Paris:  Al- 
can.    Fr.   7.50. 

Jebb,  R.  Studies  in  colonial  national- 
ism.     Longmans.      $3.50    net. 

Judson,  F.  N.  The  law  of  interstate 
commerce  and  its  federal  regulation. 
Chicago :    Flood  &  Co.     $5. 

Le  CourFois  et  Surville.  Regimes 
matrimoniaux :  pro  jets  de  reformes 
et  leurs  principales  consequences. 
Paris  :    Larose  et  Tenin. 

London,  J.  War  of  the  classes.  Mac- 
millan.     $1.50    net. 

Lord,  E.  T.,  and  Barrows,  S.  J.  The 
Italian  in  America :  aims  to  present 
clearly  the  contribution  of  Italy  to 
American  development  and  citizen- 
ship.    Buck  &  Co.     $1.50. 

Marks,  W.  D.  An  equal  opportunity : 
plea  for  individualism.  Patterson  & 
W.      $1    net. 

Mason,  L.  D.  Relation  of  the  pauper 
inebriate  to  the  municipality  and  the 
state,  from  the  economic  point  of 
view.     D.   C.   Crothers.     $0.10. 

Mundy,  F.  W.,  ed.  Earning  power  of 
railroads,  1905  ;  facts  as  to  earning 
power,  capitalization,  etc.,  of  120 
railroads  in  the  United  States  and 
Canada.     Metropolitan  Adv.     $1   net. 

McClain,  E.  Constitutional  law  in  the 
United  States.     Longmans.     52. 

Sanborn,  A.  F.  Paris  and  the  social 
revolution.     Small.   $3.50   net. 

Schools,  reformatory  and  industrial,  of 
Great  Britain :  report,  list,  details. 
Wyman.     is.   iid. 

Smith,  J.  Organization  of  ocean  com- 
merce. Univ.  of  Penn.  (Ginn).  bds. 
$1.75,  pap.  $1.25. 

Turland,  A.  La  socialisme  en  action : 
petite  histoire  populaire  de  la  Com- 
mune,  precedee   d'un   historique   des 


136 


RECENT  LITERATURE 


137 


mouvements,     communistes     sous    la  Wells,  H.  G.    A  modem  Utopia.    Scrib- 

feodalite     et     sous     la     Revolution.  ner.     $1.50  net. 

Saint-Etienne :      L'Union     typograf.  Wilde,  O.  Soul  of  man  under  socialism. 

Fr.  0.40.  T.  B.  Mosher.     $0.75  net. 

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NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS 


An  Open  Letter  from  John  K.  Ingram,  formerly  professor  of  political  econ- 
omy, Trinity  College,  Dublin,  to  the  secretary  of  the  Sociological  Society  of 
London,  on  the  papers  of  Professor  Durkheim  and  Mr.  Branford,  entitled  "  On  the 
Relation  of  Sociology  to  the  Social  Sciences  and  to  Philosophy  "  (published  in 
this  Journal,  Vol.  X,  p.  134)  : 

Dear  Sir  :  I  have  carefully  read  more  than  once  the  two  papers  you  have 
been  good  enough  to  send  me,  and  in  accordance  with  your  desire,  I  proceed  to 
state,  as  fully  as  my  other  occupations  will  permit,  my  views  on  the  subject  of 
which  they  treat. 

I  do  not  recognize  the  multiple  "  social  sciences  "  spoken  of  in  the  papers. 
There  is,  in  my  view,  only  one  abstract  sociology,  which  deals  with  the  constitu- 
tion, the  working,  and  the  evolution  of  society  in  all  their  aspects.  (There  are,  of 
course,  studies  of  different  actual  societies,  but  these  are  foreign  to  the  present 
question.)  The  only  philosophical  division  of  abstract  sociology,  as  distinguished 
from  those  dictated  merely  by  convenience,  is  into  social  statics  and  social 
dynamics.  The  "  social  sciences  "  enumerated  in  the  papers  are,  for  the  most  part, 
in  reality  only  chapters  of  general  sociology.  Thus,  the  abstract  study  of  economics 
is  a  part  of  sociology.  Anthropology  is  only  the  first  section  of  dynamical 
sociology.  The  study  of  the  nature  and  development  of  religion  is  an  element  — 
the  most  important  element  —  of  general  sociology.  Statistics  is  not  a  branch  of 
science  at  all ;  it  is  a  congeries  of  observations  ancillary  to  several  sciences. 
Education  is  not  a  science,  but  an  art,  borrowing  materials  from  several  sciences. 
So  also  is  jurisprudence.  "  Social  geography "  must,  from  the  nature  of  it,  be 
concrete.  Morals,  indeed,  is  a  true  science  —  one  of  the  seven  rightly  enumerated 
by  Comte  —  distinct  from  sociology,  though  closely  akin  to  it,  being  the  theory 
of  individual  human  nature.  The  attempt  to  set  up  a  number  of  "  social  sciences  " 
can  only  tend  to  encourage  pedantry  and  idle  research,  in  a  province  where  broad 
principles  are  not  only  the  one  thing  needful,  but  are  alone  accessible. 

Sociology  cannot  be  built  up  out  of  the  "  several  sciences ;  "  like  biology,  it  is 
radically  synthetic ;  and  as  in  the  latter  we  start  from  the  general  notion  of  the 
organism  and  analyze  it  afterwards,  still  referring  everything  to  its  unity,  so  we 
must  in  sociology  set  out  from  collective  humanity  and  its  fundamental  attributes, 
and  study  all  sociological  phenomena  in  the  light  of  the  social  consensus. 

To  me  this  endless  trituration  of  social  inquiry,  and  separation  of  the  workers 
into  distinct  specialisms,  appear  to  overlook  the  real  meaning  and  end  of  sociology, 
which  is  to  establish  on  scientific  bases  a  non-theological  religion.  It  is  positivism, 
as  a  foundation,  first  of  social  renovation,  and  then  of  permanent  social  guidance, 
that  seems  to  me  to  supply  the  explanation  of  historical  tendencies  in  the  past, 
and  to  point  to  the  goal  of  future  effort.  The  notion  of  the  construction  or 
development  of  sociology  by  the  joint  work  of  theologists  and  positivists  I  regard 
as  chimerical.  We  cannot  shirk  the  previous  decision  as  to  the  reality  or  non- 
existence of  a  supernatural  interference  in  human  affairs.  The  attempt  to  do  so 
will  break  down.  The  world  has  come  up  to  this  question  and  must  face  it,  while, 
if  I  understand  the  case  aright,  the  Sociological  Society  proposes  to  evade  it. 

What  is  now,  in  my  judgment,  most  wanted  is  a  real  study  of  Comte,  who, 
though  his  fame  has  been  irresistibly  rising  and  spreading,  is  more  talked  of  than 
understood,  and  is  not  as  yet  at  all  adequately  appreciated.  Some  would,  sett  him 
aside  as  pre-evolutionary,  the  fact  being  that,  so  far  as  social  evolution  is  con- 
cerned, he  has  done  immensely  more  than  anyone  else,  and  at  an  earlier  date. 
I  have  endeavored  to  expound  his  principles,  with  which  my  own  essentially 
coincide,   in   several   publications,   to   which  —  especially    to   Human   Nature   and 

139 


140  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Morals  and  Practical  Morals  —  I  would  refer  anyone  who  cares  to  know  my 
opinions  more  in  detail  than  they  could  be  presented  in  these  few  sentences. — 
John  K.  Ingram. 

Discipline  in  Industry. — The  bloody  strike  at  Limoges  has  caused  justi- 
fiable apprehension  throughout  France.  Not  only  on  account  of  the  violence  which 
accompanied  it,  and  the  blaraable  weakness  of  the  local  authorities  in  dealing  with 
it,  but  much  more  by  reason  of  the  cause  of  the  strike  itself,  it  has  afforded 
occasion  for  a  serious  inspection  of  industrial  tendencies. 

Limoges  has  always  been  a  radical  city ;  its  mayor  is  a  socialist,  and  it  is 
hardly  to  be  expected  that  socialist  leaders  —  creatures  of  the  crowd  whose  every 
passion  they  flatter  servilely  —  should  be  able  to  restrain  the  crowd  in  times  of 
crisis.  But,  however  deplorable  the  incidents  which  have  occurred,  we  repeat 
that  they  do  not  constitute  the  most  disturbing  element  in  the  situation  at 
Limoges.  The  question  is  rather  one  of  the  very  organization  of  industry  itself : 
Shall  that  discipline  which  is  indispensable  in  any  long  series  of  operations 
involving  the  co-operation  of  large  numbers  of  workmen,  be  left  in  the  hands  of 
the  employer,  whether  he  be  an  individual  or  a  company ;  or  shall  the  manage- 
ment of  the  shop,  the  hiring  and  discharge  of  foremen  and  superintendents  as 
well  as  laborers,  the  general  administration  of  industry,  be  made  dependent  upon 
the  choice,  or  at  least  the  ratification,  of  the  employees? 

This  was  the  principle  at  stake  at  Limoges.  Here,  as  in  many  other  quar- 
ters, these  anarchistic  claims  were  advanced  that  the  employees  had  the  right  to 
pass  upon  the  superintendents  and  foremen  chosen  by  the  employer  to  guide  their 
work.  Of  course,  it  is  desirable  that  these  agents  of  the  employer  should  be  men 
possessing  in  a  high  degree  the  sense  of  justice  and  of  humanity,  as  well  as 
technical  and  executive  ability ;  but  it  is  true,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  firmness 
and  energy  which  are  after  all  indispensable  in  the  industrial  superintendent,  will 
always  be  offensive  to  a  portion  of  the  personnel  of  the  factory,  notably  the 
thoughtless,  the  idle,  and  the  insubordinate ;  and  to  sacrifice  the  superintendent 
or  the  foreman  or  other  agents  to  the  susceptibilities  or  the  rancor  of  this 
portion  of  the  employees  could  have  no  other  effect  than  to  put  an  end  to  all 
industrial  discipline.  The  delicate  organism  of  industry  would  speedily  fall  into 
the  most  fatal  slackness  and  laxity  of  management ;  production  would  become 
insufficient,  poor,  and  expensive,  and  certain  decadence  would  follow. 

Unskilled  labor,  as  M.  Tarde  shows,  is  only  the  repetition  of  an  example  set 
by  some  inventor,  ancient  or  modern,  and  it  is  clear  that  it  is  not  entitled  to  the 
choice  of  the  agents  of  direction,  of  oversight,  or  of  control  of  industry. 

The  socialists,  while  waiting  to  confiscate  capital,  are  seeking  to  propagate 
the  idea  that  it  ought  to  be  merely  the  sleeping  partner  of  labor.  Kantsky,  the 
leader  of  pure  Marxian  socialism  in  Germany,  writes  that  it  is  necessary  that  labor 
should  become  the  master  of  the  factory :  These  last  words  are  characteristic ; 
that  the  proletariat  should  be  master  of  the  factory  is  the  end  agreed  upon  by 
socialists  of  all  shades  of  belief.  Kantsky  continues :  If  the  workman  has  his 
maintenance  assured  even  in  times  of  the  stoppage  of  production  (and  it  is  to  this 
end  that  municipal  grants  during  strikes  are  tending),  nothing  will  be  easier  for 
him  to  do  than  to  put  a  check  to  capital.  Then  he  will  have  no  need  of  the 
capitalist,  while  the  latter  without  the  workman  will  be  unable  to  continue  his 
exploitation.  When  this  shall  be  the  case,  the  entrepreneur  will  be  under  a  dis- 
advantage in  all  conflicts  with  his  workmen,  and  will  be  forced  to  yield.  Capital- 
ists will  still  continue  to  direct  their  factories,  but  they  will  no  longer  be  the 
masters  and  exploiters.  But  if  the  capitalists  recognize  that  there  remain  for 
them  only  risks  to  be  run  and  charges  to  be  borne,  they  will  be  the  first  to 
renounce  capitalistic  production,  and  to  insist  that  their  enterprises  which  yield 
them  no  profit  should  be  purchased  and  taken  off  their  hands  (that  is,  by  the  state 
or  the  municipality).  This  is  the  socialist  program  according  to  Kantsky,  and 
he  is  doubtless  correct  in  maintaining  that  entrepreneurs  would  renounce  capital- 
istic production  under  such  conditions  ;  but  will  collectivism  take  their  place  ? 
Here  Kantsky  may  deceive  himself ;  what  will  result  from  this  situation  will  be 
simply  the  discouragement  of  the  capitalists,  the  gradual  closing  of  the  factories, 
general  impoverishment,  and  the  return  of  society  to  primitive  poverty. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  141 

Thus  it  is  necessary  to  turn  from  the  incidents  of  the  strike,  painful  as  they 
are,  to  the  contention  that  lies  at  its  foundation,  that  the  proletariat  ought  to 
become  master  of  the  shop,  and  to  recognize  the  gravity  of  this  pretention,  as  well 
as  the  consequences  which  will  follow  if  it  is  allowed  to  spread  and  triumph. — 
Paul  Leroy-Beaulieu,  in  £conomiste  frangais,  April  22,  1903. 

E.  B.  W. 

Midsummer  Customs  in  Morocco. —  The  present  article  is  based  on  infor- 
mation which  I  have  obtained  in  the  course  of  three  years  and  a  half  devoted  to 
anthropological  research  in  Morocco,  chiefly  among  its  peasantry. 

The  population  of  Morocco  consists  of  two  groups  of  Arabic-speaking  tribes, 
inhabiting  the  plains  and  the  northern  mountains  respectively,  and  some  four 
different  groups  of  Berbers.  Among  these  various  groups  of  natives  certain  cere- 
monies are  performed  on  June  24  (old  style),  the  so-called  l-'ansara  day;  or  on 
the  eve  of  that  day.  In  certain  mountain  villages,  upon  this  day,  after  sunset, 
the  villagers  kindle  large  fires  in  open  places,  and  men,  women,  and  children  leap 
over  them,  believing  that  by  so  doing  they  rid  themselves  of  all  misfortune  which 
may  be  clinging  to  them  ;  the  sick  will  be  cured,  and  childless  couples  will  have 
offspring.  The  smoke  possesses  benign  virtue  and  prevents  injury  from  the  fire. 
Fig  trees,  grain  fields,  and  beehives  are  made  more  fruitful  in  many  localities  by 
the  kindling  of  fires  near  them,  pennyroyal,  and  other  herbs  being  sometimes 
thrown  into  the  fire.  The  smoke  from  these  midsummer  fires  is  also  thought  to 
be  beneficial  to  the  domestic  animals. 

In  some  places  fire  ceremonies  of  another  type  are  practiced  at  the  same 
season,  namely,  ceremonies  which  are  supposed  to  destroy  misfortune  by  the 
flame  rather  than  the  smoke.  For  this  purpose  three  sheaves  of  unthreshed  wheat 
Of  barley  are  burned,  "  one  for  the  children,  one  for  the  crops,  and  one  for  the 
animals." 

Beside  smoke  and  fire  customs,  water  ceremonies  are  very  commonly  prac- 
ticed at  midsummer.  On  l-'dnsara  day  the  people  bathe  in  the  sea  or  in  the 
rivers  ;  they  also  bathe  their  animals,  sometimes  maintaining  that  persons  thus 
bathing  will  be  free  from  sickness  for  a  whole  year.  Rain  which  falls  on  April  27 
(old  style)  is  also  supposed  to  be  endowed  with  magic  energy  in  a  special  degree, 
and  it  is  carefully  collected  and  afterward  used  for  a  variety  of  beneficent  pur- 
poses. Sprinkling  fruit  trees,  domestic  animals,  and  bees  with  fine  earth  or  dust 
alternates  with  the  smoke  custom  referred  to  above. 

Oleander  branches  and  marjoram  are  held  to  possess  magic  charms.  The 
stones  which  are  used  as  weights  in  the  market-place  are  held  to  possess  efficacy 
as  charms,  due  in  part  to  the  fact  that  many  eyes  have  been  gazing  on  them  at 
the  market.  By  catching  so  many  glances  of  the  eye,  these  stones  have  them- 
selves become  like  eyes ;  and  as  the  eye  serves  as  a  transmitter  of  baneful 
energy,  it  also,  naturally,  is  capable  of  throwing  back  such  energy  on  the  person 
from  whom  it  emanates ;  hence  the  image  of  the  eye  is  often  used  as  a  charm 
against  the  evil  eye. 

Eating  ceremonies,  in  which  a  portion  of  the  grain  or  other  food  of  which 
an  abundant  harvest  is  wished  is  consumed,  take  place  on  Midsummer  Day.  In 
this  custom  there  is  evident  the  rule  of  pars  pro  toto,  so  commonly  applied  in 
magic. 

In  some  localities  ceremonies  similar  to  those  described  above  occur,  not  in 
midsummer,  but  at  the  Muhammedan  New  Year,  or  asur.  These  two  sets  of 
ceremonies  largely  supplement  each  other,  for  where  no  fire  or  water  ceremonies 
are  practiced  at  l-'&nsara,  we  may  be  sure  of  landing  them  at  'asuz.  In  view  of  the 
fact  that  I  have  been  unable  to  find  a  single  trace  of  midsummer  ceremonies 
among  Arabs  who  have  not  come  in  contact  with  the  Berber  race,  I  venture  to 
suppose  that  such  ceremonies  prevailed  among  the  indigenous  Berbers.  Although 
not  found  among  pure  Arabs,  such  customs,  as  is  well  known,  are  or  have  been 
universally  practiced  in  Europe,  and  for  a  similar  purificatory  purpose.  Con- 
sidering that  such  purification  ceremonies  at  midsummer,  so  far  as  I  know,  occur 
only  in  Europe  and  northern  Africa,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  this  coincidence 


142  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

gives  some  additional  strength  to  the  hypothesis  of  a  racial  affinity  between  the 
Berbers  and  most  European  nations  of  the  present  day. —  Edward  Westermarck, 
in  Folk-Lore,  March,  1905.  E.  B.  W. 

Social  Life  in  the  United  States. — M.  Paul  Ghio  opened  the  discussion  of 
this  subject  before  the  Paris  Society  of  Sociology  by  affirming  that  the  essential 
character  of  American  life  is  furnished  by  the  Economic  struggle.  In  the  United 
States  the  mania  for  acquiring  wealth  absorbs  both  intelligence  and  initiative. 
The  American  democracy,  which  is  free  from  mixture  with  the  institutions  of  the 
old  regime,  has  not  proved  that  democratic  institutions  assure  true  equality 
among  citizens.  This  is  due  to  the  principle  of  authority  which  flows  from 
economic  oppression. 

Sentiments  of  revolt  against  untoward  industrial  conditions  manifest  them- 
selves less  in  a  militant  socialism  than  in  an  individualistic  anarchism,  which 
finds  in  America  a  field  favorable  to  its  development. 

M.  Louis  Vigouroux,  in  continuing  the  discussion,  called  attention  to  the  need 
of  prudence  in  carefully  defining  the  subject  which  one  intends  to  treat,  when 
speaking  of  America,  in  view  of  the  vast  differences  in  the  social  characteristics  of 
the  population  in  different  and  remote  sections  of  the  country.  He  agreed  with 
the  preceding  speaker  that  in  the  United  States  the  possession  of  wealth  confers 
a  more  irresistible  power  than  in  other  societies  either  past  or  present. 

While  there  are  legally  no  decorations  in  the  United  States,  yet  the  insignia 
of  fraternal  organizations,  and  the  magnificence  of  gold  lace  and  towering  plumes 
with  which  their  leaders  adorn  themselves,  form  a  social  equivalent. 

It  is  just  to  observe  that  in  the  midst  of  thisi  active  practical  society,  eager 
for  riches  and  material  satisfactions,  an  intellectual  and  artistic  movement  traces 
itself  very  distinctly.  All  who  have  resorted  to  American  universities  have 
cherished  very  favorable  impressions  of  them.  The  instruction  is  very  broad  and 
very  independent,  and  every  worthy  source  is  freely  drawn  upon  without  bias  ; 
close  touch  is  kept  with  the  work  done  in  Europe,  and  one  feels  that  from  this 
society,  already  in  a  state  of  fermentation,  there  will  proceed  some  day,  and  that 
not  a  distant  one,  a  rich  intellectual,  scientific,  and  artistic  production.  Morover, 
this  will  be  a  normal  phenomenon.  M.  Vigouroux  recollects  that  the  Greek  civili- 
zation followed  the  development  of  the  wealth  and  commerce  of  Athens,  and  it  is 
not  to  be  expected  that  art  and  letters  will  flourish  in  a  country  without  resources. 
The  prestige  of  the  artist,  the  author,  or  the  savant  in  America  is  as  yet  not  to  be 
compared  with  that  enjoyed  by  these  classes  among  us. 

Many  of  the  immigrants  in  America  who  have  come  from  repressive  and 
tyrannical  states,  find  themselves  ill-prepared  for  life  in  a  land  where  so  large  a 
part  is  still  left  to  individual  initiative  and  to  personal  merit.  The  result  is  that 
in  New  York  and  Chicago  there  are  quarters  where  poverty  reaches  a  degree 
never  met  with  in  France. 

In  connection  with  the  labor  problem,  the  efforts  of  the  skilled  workmen  to 
effect  organizations  among  the  unskilled  is  worthy  of  note,  as  well  as  the  ingenious 
invention  of  the  union  label  to  designate  products  turned  out  by  union  workmen. 
In  regard  to  the  effect  of  American  trade  unions  upon  the  laborer,  it  is  evident 
that  the  organization  has  benefited  those  within  it,  and  consequently,  in  spite  of 
assertions  to  the  contrary,  has  contributed  toward  the  amelioration  of  the  lot  of 
unorganized  laborers,  whether  by  causing  a  direct  rise  of  wages  for  the  same 
duration  of  labor  in  certain  occupations,  or  in  others  by  a  mitigation  of  the 
lowering  of  wages  resulting  from  the  development  of  machinery  and  of 
immigration. 

Of  the  political  customs  of  the  United  States  M.  Vigouroux  has  a  few  words 
to  say.  To  his  mind  two  principal  causes  favor  corruption:  (i)  the  multiplicity 
of  elections  (municipal,  school,  judicial,  state,  national)  has  given  rise  to  a  class 
of  professional  politicians,  for  the  mass  of  the  citizens  are  not  able  to  leave  their 
occupations  every  moment  to  go  and  intrigue,  harangue,  and  vote  from  one  end  of 
the  year  to  the  other;  (2)  immigrants  are  allowed  to  vote  before  they  are  able 
to  become  assimilated  with  the  political  institutions  of  democracy. —  Paul  Ohio 
et  Louis  Vigouroux,  "  La  vie  sociale  aux  £tats-Unis,"  Revue  intemationale  de 
sociologie,    April,    1905.  E.  B.  W. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  1 43 

The  Reform  of  Trade-Union  Law. —  On  July  22,  1901,  the  House  of  Lords 
delivered  the  famous  Taff  Vale  judgment.  For  over  three  years  trade-unionists 
have  been  up  in  arms  against  the  law.  Driven  to  its  last  trench,  "  orthodox  " 
political  economy  has  grappled  in  the  law  courts  with  the  encroaching  forces  of 
modern  collectivism  ;  now  the  smoke  of  battle  clears,  and  over  a  holocaust  of 
reversed  decisions  and  dissenting  judgments  the  unmoved  champions  of  indi- 
vidual competition  look  out,  in  splendid  solitude,  upon  a  world  whose  face  has 
changed. 

Without  further  digression  upon  this  fascinating  theme,  it  should  be  said 
that  the  present  article  is  limited  to  a  proposal  for  reforming  the  law  which  now 
governs  the  civil  liability  of  trade  unions  to  be  sued  for  wrongs  committed  by 
their  servants.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  decision  of  Quinn  vs.  Leathern 
has  put  into  the  hands  of  the  judges  a  principle  of  law  which,  applied  to  trade 
unions,  amounts  to  a  denial  of  their  right  to  exist. 

The  Taff  Vale  case,  in  the  first  place,  constitutes  trade  unions  as  "  persons  " 
in  the  law.  In  the  second  place,  there  has  been  established  by  the  Quinn  vs. 
Leathem  cases  a  new  right,  giving  rise  to  a  whole  fresh  series  of  possible  wrongs ; 
this  is  the  right  of  every  man  to  earn  his  living  in  his  own  way.  This  is  a  right 
entirely  inconsistent  with  trade-unionism,  inasmuch  as  it  is  unlimited  competi- 
tion over  again.  For  trade-unionism  is  at  bottom  a  denial,  on  behalf  both  of  the 
individual  and  of  the  whole  trade,  of  the  right  of  the  individual  to  consider 
nothing  but  his  own  immediate  circumstances  in  deciding  how  he  shall  work. 

An  effective  limitation  of  this  right  to  earn  one's  living  in  one's  own  way, 
which  forms  the  substratum  of  the  modern  law  of  trade  unions,  results  in  practice 
from  the  nature  and  from  the  universality  of  the  right  itself.  Its  equal  existence 
in  everyone  must  put  practical  limits  to  its  full  enjoyment  by  anyone.  Is  a 
refusal,  for  instance,  to  work  with  another  interference  with  his  right  of  earning 
his  living  in  his  own  way,  or  is  it  a  mere  assertion  of  one's  own  right? 

There  are,  it  may  be  noted,  two  things  which  make  it  very  hard  for  unionists, 
harassed  by  another's  right  to  earn  his  living  in  his  own  way,  to  set  up  an 
equivalent  claim  of  their  own  as  a  defense.  First,  the  right  is  the  right  to  earn 
one's  own  living  in  one's  own  way.  It  can  only  be  used  to  justify  action  directly 
concerning  one's  own  wages,  hours,  and  conditions  of  labor ;  the  individualism 
of  the  law  will  not  allow  it  to  place  among  the  things  directly  concerning  a  man's 
own  labor,  the  wages,  hours,  and  conditions  of  his  fellow-workers,  or  the 
description  of  those  fellow-workers.  Second,  the  right  of  earning  one's  living  in 
one's  own  way  can  be  claimed  only  by  a  worker.  It  cannot  be  claimed  by  a  trade 
union  itself,  which,  though  a  separate  person,  has  no  living  to  earn. 

Trade-unionism  and  the  law  are  in  conflict  all  along  the  line,  just  because 
they  are  developments  of  two  contradictory  principles.  The  rule  that  in  certain 
respects  every  man  should  work,  not  as  seems  best  to  himself,  but  as  is  best  for 
the  whole  trade  (represented  in  the  union),  cannot  live  with  the  individualist 
denial  of  any  conceivable  opposition  between  "  what  seems  best  to  the  indi- 
vidual "  and  "  what  is  best  for  the  trade."  The  law  of  civil  liability  for  trade 
interference  is  the  recent  creation  of  judges  who  learned  their  political  science, 
in  briefless  and  impressionable  youth,  from  the  apostles  of  unlimited  individualism. 
It  is  a  pleasing  generalization,  not  too  remote  from  truth,  that  in  England  legis- 
lation is  always  twenty-five,  and  judicial  decision  forty  or  fifty,  years  behind  the 
times. 

In  the  teeth  of  reiterated  demonstration  that  individual  bargaining  between 
employer  and  workman  is  no  bargain  at  all ;  with  the  revelations  of  the  Sweating 
Committee  and  the  horrors  of  unorganized  trades  before  them  ;  with  the  com- 
panion picture  at  hand  of  the  great  industries  dominated  by  vast  associations, 
wise  according  to  the  measure  of  their  strength  ;  after  a  century  of  factory  laws, 
the  House  of  Lords  had  full  power  to  decide  that  among  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples upon  which  our  prosperity  rests  is  the  absolute  right  of  every  man  to  earn 
his  own  living  in  his  own  individual  way.  The  effects  of  this  decision  must  be 
corrected  by  express  legislation. 

The  trade-union  program  which  the  opposition  to  these  judgments  has 
developed,  involves  three  points:    (i)  protection  of  the  union  funds  from  liability 


144  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

for  the  acts  of  the  union  or  its  executive ;  (2)  abolition  of  the  law  of  conspiracy 
in  relation  to  trade  disputes;  (3)  amendment  of  the  law  of  "picketing"  laid 
down  in  Lyons  vs.  Wilkins.  It  is  the  first  of  these  proposals  upon  which  the 
unions  have  particularly  set  their  hearts.  This  is,  however,  open  to  serious 
criticism.  It  is  evident  that  trade-union  management  must  be  vested  in  a  com- 
paratively small  executive  upon  whom  the  constitution  of  the  union  confers  certain 
powers.  It  is  also  evident  that  no  union  can  at  present  be  absolutely  secure  against 
reckless  action  on  the  part  of  its  officers.  No  more  can  any  employer.  But  will 
any  candid  trade-unionist  assert  that  what  he  wants  to  be  protected  against  is  the 
possible  imprudence  of  his  officials?  The  unions  are  not  really  much  concerned 
to  avoid  responsibility  for  actions  which  they  would  repudiate ;  they  object  rather 
to  being  penalized  for  actions  which  have  their  cordial  approval. 

The  reform  of  trade-union  law  should  not  proceed  in  the  direction  of  a 
reversal  of  the  Taff  Vale  decision  so  as  to  render  the  unions  financially  irrespon- 
sible, but  rather  of  an  extension  of  the  rights  of  the  unions  so  as  to  sanction  them 
as  legally  created  artificial  persons,  in  performing  the  functions  for  which  they 
exist,  namely,  the  limitation  of  the  extreme  individual  liberty,  which,  though  fifty 
years  out  of  date,  still  stands  as  the  economic  norm,  upon  the  statute-books. — 
W.  H.  Beveridge,  in  Economic  Review,  April,  1905. 

E.  B.  W. 

Hygienic  and  Moral  Education  of  the  Child. —  Before  the  ordinary  work  of 
the  school  curriculum  can  be  undertaken  by  the  pupil  with  any  prospect  of  satis- 
factory progress,  it  is  quite  essential  that  careful  and  expert  attention  be  turned 
to  the  cure  of  physical  defects,  such  as  those  of  eye  and  ear,  and  to  the  pro- 
tection of  healthy  children  from  those  affections  of  eye,  ear,  nose,  and  throat 
which  are  more  widespread  among  our  school  population  than  is  supposed,  and 
which  for  many  years  have  paralyzed  the  best  efforts  of  our  educators. 

To  this  end  there  must  be  the  closest  of  affiliation  between  parents,  teachers, 
and  physicians,  in  order  that  the  instruction  of  every  child  may  be  entirely  adapted 
addition  to  that  of  securing  for  children  the  benefits  of  an  adequate  physical 
training  and  hygienic  education  to  procure  for  each  a  full  measure  of  bodily 
vigor. 

In  a  certain  number  of  cities  a  league  of  physicians  and  parents  has  been 
established  in  connection  with  the  secondary  schools.  Heads  of  families  ought  to 
give  their  hearty  support  to  this  work  so  eminently  patriotic,  and  calculated  to 
regenerate  our  race  impaired  by  excess  of  every  kind.  Is  there  any  reason  why 
this  league  should  not  extend  its  roots  down  into  the  department  of  primary 
instruction,  and  even  into  the  maternal  school  ? 

There  is  a  further  aim  cherished  by  the  National  University  League,  in 
addition  to  that  of  securing  for  children  the  benefits  of  an  adequate  physical, 
moral,  and  intellectual  education,  and  that  is  the  securing  of  greater  assiduity  on 
the  part  of  scholars.  That  there  is  abundant  opportunity  for  improvement  in  the 
regularity  and  continuity  of  school  attendance  is  evident  when  we  consider  that 
a  quarter  of  a  century  after  the  promulgation  of  compulsory  education  there  still 
exist  departments  where  the  children  have  scarcely  120  to  150  days  per  year  of 
actual  school  attendance. —  F.  BARTHis,  "Education  sanitaire  et  morale  de 
I'enfant,"   Revue  philanthropique,   May    15,    1905.  E.  B.  W. 


THE  AMERICAN 

JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


Volume  XI  SEPTEMBER,     I905  Numbers 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION 


PAUL    S.    REINSCH 
The  University  of  Wisconsin 


While  in  the  past  century  populations  and  racial  elements 
which  had  formerly  been  far  distant  from  each  other  have  been 
brought  into  intimate  contact,  the  twentieth  century  will  witness 
the  formation  of  new  mixed  races  and  the  attempt  to  adjust  the 
mutual  relations  of  all  the  various  peoples  that  inhabit  the  globe. 
The  recent  great  advance  in  the  safeness  and  rapidity  of  com- 
munication has  made  the  whole  world  into  a  community  whose 
solidarity  of  interests  becomes  more  apparent  day  by  day.  Closer 
contact  with  the  more  advanced  nations  of  the  Orient  will  have 
a  profound  influence  upon  European  civilization,  because  these 
nations,  though  ready  to  adopt  our  industrial  methods,  are  deter- 
mined to  maintain  their  national  beliefs  and  customs.  Though 
from  the  races  that  stand  on  a  lower  level  of  civilization  no  such 
deep-going  influence  upon  European  and  American  life  is  to  be 
expected,  their  relations  to  the  peoples  of  more  advanced  culture 
will  nevertheless  be  a  matter  of  great  moment.  Some  of  them, 
the  weakest  and  lowest  in  organization,  may  indeed  continue  to 
fade  away  before  the  advance  of  European  power;  but  this  is  not 
likely  to  be  the  fate  of  the  negro  race.  The  negroes  have  come  in 
contact  with  the  worst  side  of  European  civilization;  yet  their 
buoyant,  vigorous  constitution  and  their  fundamental  common- 

145 


146  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

sense  carry  them  safely  through  dangers  which  have  proved  fatal 
to  other  races.  They  are  therefore  destined  to  be  a  permanent 
element  in  the  composite  population  of  the  future,  and  when  we 
consider  the  extent  and  fertility  of  the  regions  which  they  hold, 
the  necessity  of  their  ever-increasing  co-operation  in  the  economic 
life  of  the  world  becomes  apparent. 

The  negro  race  may  be  studied  in  four  different  sets  of  con- 
ditions: in  their  original  state  in  the  forests  of  central  Africa; 
as  a  mixed  race  under  the  control  of  the  Arab  and  Hamite  races 
of  the  northern  Sudan ;  living  side  by  side  with  a  white  population 
in  respect  to  which  they  occupy  a  socially  inferior  position,  as  in 
South  Africa  and  North  America;  and  in  a  few  isolated  com- 
munities which  enjoy  rights  of  self-government  based  upon 
European  models,  as  in  Hayti  and  in  the  French  Antilles.  A  cor- 
rect understanding  of  any  part  of  the  negro  question  demands  a 
review  of  the  situation  of  the  negro  under  all  these  varying  con- 
ditions, because  only  through  a  comparison  of  the  aboriginal 
characteristics  of  the  negro  with  the  qualities  acquired  through 
contact  with  other  races  and  civilizations  can  we  form  a  just 
estimate  of  his  relative  capacity  for  progress. 

We  need  not  here  enter  into  the  controversy  between 
polygenists  and  unigenists,  since  it  has  a  purely  ethnological 
interest,  whereas  we  intend  to  approach  the  question  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  political  activities  of  the  present.  No  matter 
what  may  be  the  origin  of  the  diversity  which  the  human  races  at 
present  exhibit  —  whether  the  result  of  the  amalgamation  of  an 
almost  infinite  number  of  disparate  groups,  or  the  consequence  of 
continued  diversification  of  an  original  type — the  negro  race 
today  exhibits  such  characteristic  features  and  such  distinct  traits 
as  to  induce  many  observers  to  consider  it  as  entirely  incommen- 
surate with  the  white  race;  yfet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  physio- 
logically connected  with  the  Aryans  through  a  long  series  of 
mixed  races.  As  we  pass  from  Morocco  or  from  Cairo  toward  the 
center  of  the  Sudan,  the  color  of  the  population  gradually  grows 
darker,  and  their  features,  from  the  regular  and  often  beautiful 
type  of  the  Hamite,  merge  off  into  the  coarser  characteristics  of 
the  negro  race.    From  the  pure  white  skin  of  the  Berber  to  the 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       147 

yellow  of  the  Tuareg,  the  copper  tint  of  the  Somali  or  the  Fulbe, 
the  chocolate  of  the  Mombuttu,  and  the  ebony  of  the  Jolof,  the 
color  gradations  are  imperceptible;  and  no  conception  is  more 
utterly  mistaken  than  that  which  would  people  all  of  central 
Africa  with  a  black-skinned  race. 

The  physiological  aspects  of  race-mixture  have  lately  attracted 
much  attention.  Mr.  James  Bryce,  in  his  recent  lecture  on  "  The 
Relations  of  the  Advanced  and  Backward  Races,"  carefully 
reviews  the  experience  of  mankind  in  this  matter,  and  adds  his 
support  to  the  current  assumption  that  mixed  breeds  are  morally 
and  physically  weak  when  the  parents  belong  to  widely  disparate 
races  and  civilizations.  However,  it  would  seem  that  this  assump- 
tion is  true  only  in  cases  where  the  two  societies  to  which  the 
parents  respectively  belong  maintain  a  repugnant  attitude  to  each 
other,  so  that  the  mestizos  form  an  outcast  class  and  suffer  a 
total  loss  of  morale.  Where  friendly  relations  exist,  the  mixed 
races  produced  by  Europeans  and  negroes  exhibit  some  very  fine 
qualities.  The  rich  yet  delicate  beauty  of  the  mulatto  women  in 
Martinique,  their  sweetness  of  temper  and  kindness  of  heart,  so 
excited  the  admiration  of  visitors  that  they  all,  lay  and  clerical, 
French  and  British,  join  in  the  chorus  of  admiration  and  declare 
the  women  of  Martinique  the  most  charming  in  the  world. 
Intellectually,  the  mulatto  race  has  produced  a  number  of  remark- 
able men,  and  the  liberality  of  mind  among  the  leaders  of  tliis 
class  in  Martinique  is  certainly  most  noteworthy.  Still  it  is 
generally  true  that  the  men  of  a  mixed  race  will  exhibit  fewer 
pleasing  qualities  of  character  than  the  women :  they  must  make 
themselves  useful  often  by  activities  not  conducive  to  sweetness 
of  temper  or  honesty  of  mind ;  while  the  women  naturally  develop 
more  gentle  and  attractive  characteristics. 

The  question  of  race-mixture  between  Europeans  and  negroes 
is,  however,  at  present  of  little  practical  importance.  In  the 
regions  where  large  numbers  of  Europeans  and  negroes  live  side 
by  side  the  social  laws  more  and  more  stringently  forbid  a  mixture 
of  the  two  elements;  moreover,  the  number  of  Europeans  who 
settle  in  central  Africa  will  probably  always  be  exceedingly  small. 
But  there  is  another  racial  element  which  will  in  the  future  have 


148  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

a  very  prominent  part  in  the  physiological  modification  of  the 
African  race.  All  along  the  east  coast  of  Africa  immigration 
from  India  is  taking  place.  Both  coast  and  inland  regions  are 
very  well  adapted  to  settlement  by  the  Hindus,  and  no  race- 
antipathy  exists  between  them  and  the  negroes.  We  may  in  the 
near  future  look  for  a  great  inpouring  of  Indian  coolies,  trades- 
men, and  settlers,  who,  together  with  the  Arab  and  Hamite  ele- 
ments coming  from  the  north,  will  leaven  the  mass  of  the  African 
population. 

While  physiologically  the  transition  from  the  negro  to  the 
white  race  is  a  gradual  one,  the  distinctive  type  of  negro  civiliza- 
tion is  yet  very  different  from  that  which  we  call  European.  The 
last  few  years  have  witnessed  a  great  change  of  mind  in  matters 
of  humanitarianism ;  the  absolute  unity  of  human  life  in  all  parts 
of  the  globe,  as  well  as  the  idea  of  the  practical  equality  of  human 
individuals  wherever  they  may  be  found,  has  been  quite  generally 
abandoned.  Without  going  into  the  question  of  origins,  it  is  clear 
that  conditions  of  environment  and  historical  forces  have  com- 
bined in  producing  certain  great  types  of  humanity  which  are 
essentially  different  in  their  characteristics.  To  treat  these  as  if 
they  were  all  alike,  to  subject  them  to  the  same  methods  of  gov- 
ernment, to  force  them  into  the  same  institutions,  was  a  mistake 
of  the  nineteenth  century  which  has  not  been  carried  over  into 
our  own.  But,  after  all,  it  is  difficult  to  say  which  is  tlie  more 
surprising  —  whether  the  remarkable  recurrence  of  similar  cus- 
toms and  ideas,  similar  ways  of  looking  at  things,  in  the  remotest 
parts  of  the  world,  and  in  most  distant  epochs,^  or  whether  it  is 
the  existence  of  clearly  marked,  almost  unchangeable  psycho- 
logical types  differing  radically  from  each  other.  Thus  when  we 
study  the  negro  race  we  encounter  many  characteristics  and  cus- 
toms which  bear  witness  to  the  common  unity  of  mankind,  and 
which  can  be  accounted  for  only  by  assuming  the  same  funda- 
mental instincts,  or  the  transmission  of  ideas  and  institutions 
through  tradition ;  on  the  other  hand,  we  find  many  psychological 
characteristics   which  distinguish   the  negro   race   sharply   and 

*  E.  g.,  the  almost  universal  recurrence  among  the  aboriginal  peoples  of  the 
ordeal,  animistic  beliefs,  marriage  by  purchase,  etc. 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       149 

clearly  from  the  European,  the  Hamite,  or  the  oriental  world. 
Whether  these  differences  are  irreducible  is  a  question  which 
further  development  alone  can  solve. 

Low  social  organization,  and  consequent  lack  of  efficient  social 
action,  form  the  most  striking  characteristic  of  the  negro  race. 
Among  the  Africans  of  the  western  Sudan  the  matriarchal  organi- 
zation of  the  family,  combined  with  the  practice  of  polygamy, 
makes  the  mother  the  real  center  of  the  family-group  and  renders 
impossible  the  upbuilding  of  strong  families  through  the  inheri- 
tance of  power  and  property  combined  from  father  to  son.  The 
father's  property  goes,  not  to  his  children,  but  to  those  of  his 
eldest  sister.  He  can,  therefore,  not  supplement,  by  his  accumu- 
lated wealth,  the  physical  and  mental  endowment  bestowed  upon 
his  son.  The  redeeming  social  trait  of  the  African  race  is  the  love 
of  sons  for  their  mothers,  which  is  often  very  deep  and  touching. 
But  no  great  families,  and  therefore  no  truly  great  men  or  leaders 
to  the  manor  bom,  exist  among  Africans. 

Among  most  of  the  tribes,  although  there  are  notable  excep- 
tions, the  duties  of  the  marriage  relation  are  strictly  observed. 
This  is  due  primarily  to  the  fact  that  the  husband  has  paid  a 
respectable  sum  to  acquire  his  spouse,  and  his  strongly  developed 
sense  of  private  property  would  brook  no  interference.  Her  per- 
son, her  labor,  her  attentions,  belong  exclusively  to  him.  In  fact, 
there  is  but  a  difference  in  degree  between  the  position  of  the  wife 
and  that  of  the  slave.  The  reasons  for  entering  into  marriage  are 
almost  always  prudential :  among  the  poorer  people,  the  working 
power  of  the  wife ;  among  the  wealthier,  the  influence  of  her  rela- 
tives, form  the  main  consideration.  The  African  bush  traders 
have  a  wife  in  every  important  village  on  their  route,  not  only  on 
account  of  the  business  advantage  accruing  from  her  connections, 
but  also  for  the  reason  that  traders  are  in  constant  danger  of  hav- 
ing their  food  poisoned  unless  the  kitchen  is  managed  by  a 
friendly  spirit. 

Slavery  among  the  African  negroes  is  an  institution  which 
does  not  at  all  correspond  to  what  we  understand  by  that  term. 
No  special  social  disgrace  attaches  to  it,  nor  is  a  slave  a  mere 
chattel;    on  the  contrary,  his  property  rights  are  scrupulously 


ISO  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

respected.  He  is  merely  a  more  dependent  member  of  the  com- 
munity. Thus  a  "  trade  boy  "  slave  on  the  west  coast  is  obliged 
only  to  pay  a  fixed  amount  to  his  master,  and  he  may  in  prosper- 
ous times  acquire  a  good  deal  of  wealth  for  himself.  He  may 
then  purchase  other  slaves,  and  when  he  has  become  powerful 
even  free  men  will  place  themselves  under  his  protection,  and  he 
will  thus  become  a  "  king."  Even  during  the  last  decade,  of  the 
three  most  powerful  chieftains  in  the  Oil  River  region,  two  were 
slaves.  The  fact  that  a  man  may  be  "king"  and  slave  at  the 
same  time  is  certainly  unprecedented  in  any  other  civilization, 
which  of  itself  shows  that  the  African  institution  of  slavery  can 
in  no  way  be  classed  with  that  of  Rome  or  of  the  southern  states. 
We  shall  revert  to  this  matter  later  on  in  our  discussion  of  the 
slave-trade — the  dark  and  terrible  side  of  the  institution  in 
Africa. 

A  lack  of  social  fellow-feeling,  an  absence  of  every  vestige  of 
patriotism,  is  shown  by  the  readiness  with  which  negroes  allow 
themselves  to  be  used  to  fight  against  their  neighbors.  The  Arab 
slave-raiders  never  lack  men  to  fight  their  battles;  for,  though 
their  Hamite  troops  may  refuse  to  attack  the  bands  of  another 
trader,  the  negroes  are  always  ready  for  a  savage  onset,  even  upon 
men  of  very  nearly  their  own  flesh  and  blood.  The  terrible  cus- 
tom of  cannibalism,  too,  can  be  explained  only  by  taking  into 
account  this  absence  of  a  feeling  of  common  humanity.  Canni- 
balistic feasts  are  usually  accompanied  by  religious  frenzy  or  the 
fury  of  war;  but  this  is  not  always  the  case.  There  are  thrifty 
tribes  which,  in  the  words  of  De  Cardi,  "tap  their  older  people 
on  the  head,  smoke-dry  them,  then  break  them  up  into  small  bits, 
which  are  rolled  into  balls  and  laid  away  for  future  use  in  the 
family  stew."  It  is  remarkable  that  some  tribes,  like  the  Mom- 
buttu,  which  are  distinctly  advanced  in  industrial  civilization,  are 
the  most  voracious  among  the  cannibals;  thus  the  greediness  of 
the  Sandeh  has  earned  them,  among  their  neighbors,  the  sug- 
gestive nickname  of  Niam-niam.  In  the  presence  of  whites  these 
cannibals  are,  however,  generally  anxious  to  conceal  their  peculiar 
practice,   and   when   Schweinfurth   visited   the   realm   of   King 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       1 5 1 

Munza,  the  monarch  had  forbidden  all  open  cannibalism  in  order 
to  keep  offense  from  the  eyes  of  his  guest. 

The  greatest  deficiency  of  the  negro  race  lies  on  the  side  of 
the  mechanical  arts.  While  they  practice  the  smelting  and  forg- 
ing of  iron,  and  while  some  of  the  tribes  have  advanced  con- 
siderably in  the  art  of  weaving,  the  negroes  nevertheless  show 
little  originality,  and  have  acquired  most  of  these  arts  from  the 
Hamites.  They  are  far  more  ready  to  engage  in  trade;  in  fact, 
the  trend  of  the  African  negro  mind  is  primarily  commercial. 
Living  in  a  country  endowed  with  abundant  natural  resources,  the 
negro  tribes  have  found  it  far  easier  to  procure  the  few  things 
tliey  need,  in  addition  to  what  nature  furnishes  them,  by  trading 
with  Arabs  and  later  with  the  Europeans,  than  by  developing 
industries  among  themselves.  This  is,  of  course,  especially  true 
of  the  coast  tribes,  and  in  general  it  may  be  observed  that  indus- 
trial civilization  is  higher  in  the  interior  regions  of  Africa  than  on 
the  coast,  the  negro  race  reversing  in  this  particular  the  historical 
experience  of  Europe  and  America.  No  shrewder  merchants  can 
be  imagined  than  the  bush  traders  of  the  forest  belt  and  the 
"trade  boys"  of  the  coast.  The  subtlest  tricks  for  practicing 
deception  are  known  to  these  simple-minded  forest-dwellers. 
Women  who  have  learned  the  art  of  mixing  with  the  rubber  balls 
sold  to  merchants  the  largest  amount  of  dirt  that  can  escape 
detection,  are  said  to  be  especially  sought  after  in  the  marriage- 
market. 

When  we  pass  on  to  the  specific  psychological  traits  of  the 
African  race,  we  enter  a  field  of  darkness  and  uncertainty.  "  Race 
psychology"  has  of  late  become  a  fashionable  term;  but  with 
most  writers  it  stands  merely  for  a  more  or  less  interesting 
description  of  racial  characteristics,  without  that  close  study  of 
origins  and  causal  relations  which  constitute  the  science  of  psy- 
chology. Even  when  employed  with  great  care  and  scientific 
precision,  as  in  the  works  of  Herbert  Spencer,  the  psychological 
method  does  not  always  produce  convincing  results ;  and  often  the 
material  it  deals  with  becomes  so  unmanageable  as  to  furnish  no 
clear  generalization,  as  in  the  painstaking  and  ponderous 
Afrikanische  Juruprudens  of  Post.    Yet,  from  the  point  of  view 


r 


152  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  political  activities  and  social  reform,  the  psychic  phenomena 
of  primitive  races  are  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance,  deserv- 
ing the  most  careful  attention  of  the  colonial  administrator. 

The  art-sense  of  the  negro  is  rudimentary.  Unlike  the  Bush- 
man, he  has  no  pictorial  or  plastic  art.  His  chief  pleasure  is  the 
dance  and  the  entrancing  sound  of  the  tom-tom.  Of  the  mar- 
velous sense  for  melody  that  the  negro  has  developed  in  the 
Antilles  and  the  plantation  states  of  America  hardly  a  trace  is 
found  in  the  African.  But  the  sense  of  rhythm  exists,  and  the 
rhythmic  drumming  on  the  tom-tom  has  an  almost  hypnotic  effect 
upon  the  blacks.  They  sit  as  in  a  trance^  listening  to  the  mar\'el- 
ous  sound  for  hours ;  or,  should  the  tom-tom  player  move  about 
the  village,  they  will  follow  him  in  utter  abstraction,  so  that  they 
will  often  tumble  headlong  into  ditches.  On  the  occasion  of 
great  military  displays,  given  in  the  honor  of  European  commis- 
sioners, the  various  chieftains  will  each  bring  forward  a  band  of 
musicians,  who  at  the  height  of  the  festivities  all  play  their 
instruments  with  the  greatest  vigor  and  totally  regardless  of  their 
fellow-artists.  The  tremendous  discord  and  strident  volley  of 
sound  thus  produced  give  rise  to  the  greatest  popular  satisfaction. 
Toutee,  however,  reports  that  if  a  simple  tune,  like  "  Casquette  du 
pere  Bugeaud,"  is  played  to  the  negroes,  they  will  listen  to  it  with 
rapt  attention,  and  will  gladly  abandon  for  a  time  their  accus- 
tomed instruments. 

The  art  of  oratory  is  much  cultivated  in  Africa.  As  most  of 
the  tribes  have  no  written  language,  their  rich  folk-lore  is  handed 
down  by  word  of  mouth,  and  whenever  men  come  together  they 
listen  to  the  expert  story-teller  and  orator.  The  capacity  of 
the  American  negro  for  oratory,  which  has  again  and  again 
placed  young  negroes  and  mulattoes  in  the  position  of  class 
orators  at  leading  universities,  is  therefore  an  inheritance  from 
customs  practised  in  the  primitive  villages  of  Africa.  The  great 
occasion  for  the  display  of  oratorical  talent  is  the  palaver  —  a 
meeting  for  the  discussion  of  questions  of  public  interest  among 
prominent  persons,  or  for  the  trial  of  cases  at  law.  The  African 
negro  shows  great  ability  in  the  development  of  systems  of  law 
and  in  the  enforcement  of  rights;   this  is  especially  true  of  the 


I 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       I  53 

rules  of  private  property,  which  are  strictly  defined  and  scrupu- 
lously observed.  Palaver,  however,  is  costly,  so  that  persons  who 
cause  much  litigation  are  looked  upon  as  undesirable  citizens. 
Thus,  Miss  Kingsley  saw  on  a  stake  before  a  village  the  head  of  a 
woman  whose  offense  had  been  that  she  had  "caused  too  much 
palaver."  In  order  to  prevent  the  stringing-out  of  actions,  each 
party  has  to  present  the  judge  with  a  calabash  of  palm  wine  for 
every  day  of  the  sessions. 

The  intellectual  life  of  the  African  negro  is  taken  up  chiefly 
with  fetishism ;  that  is,  with  the  construction  of  a  spirit-world  by 
which  he  feels  himself  surrounded  and  which  he  believes  is  influ- 
encing his  every  act.  Fetishism  is  not  unlike  the  animism  of  the 
Brahmin,  but  it  is  without  the  latter's  belief  in  the  duality  of  spirit 
and  matter,  and  looks  upon  visible  existence  as  only  a  grosser 
form  of  spirit.  Acording  to  the  belief  of  the  negro,  the  world  was 
created  by  potent  divinities,  who  now  hold  aloof  and  allow  the 
brutal  forces  of  nature  to  fight  out  their  battles  among  themselves. 
Man,  himself  a  spirit,  is  caught  in  the  midst  of  this  struggle  of 
forces  superior  to  his  own  and  entirely  regardless  of  his  welfare ; 
his  only  salvation,  therefore,  lies  in  escaping  as  much  as  possible 
the  attention  of  these  sinister  beings.  The  Africans  have  neither 
hero-  nor  ancestor-worship,  and  with  them,  therefore,  the  idea  of 
divinity  is  not  a  development  of  ancestor-cult.  It  is  true  that  the 
spirits  of  their  ancestors  are  supposed  to  continue  in  a  sentient 
existence ;  they  are  consulted,  but  they  are  not  worshiped.  Thus, 
a  man  will  often  turn  aside,  when  in  company  with  other  men,  to 
say  a  few  words  to  the  spirit  of  his  departed  mother,  or  to  ask 
her  advice  on  the  matter  in  hand.  These  spirits  are  called  the 
"  friendly  ones ; "  they  need  not  be  worshiped ;  their  good-will  is 
already  enlisted  on  account  of  their  natural  regard  for  their  mortal 
relatives.  Some  of  the  most  cruel  customs  of  Africa  result  from 
this  conception.  Lest  the  spirit  of  the  husband  suffer  from  soli- 
tude, the  wives  of  a  deceased  man  are  killed  at  the  time  of  his 
funeral.  In  order  that  a  powerful  chieftain  may  have  the  proper 
service  and  be  able  to  support  his  dignity  in  the  other  world, 
scores  of  slaves  are  beheaded  in  order  to  form  his  spirit  retinue. 
Often  the  successor  of  a  dead  chieftain  will  send  news  to  him  by 


154  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

a  slave,  to  whom  the  message  is  given,  and  who,  after  being 
treated  to  liberal  drafts  of  palm-wine,  is  then  dispatched  as  mes- 
senger to  the  other  world  in  the  most  blissful  of  moods. 

In  view  of  the  barbarous  customs  which  continue  to  exist 
among  the  negro  population,  many  investigators  have  entirely- 
denied  the  capacity  of  the  negro  to  advance  in  the  scale  of  civiliza- 
ton.  The  physical  reason  assigned  for  this  inability  is  the 
fact  that  the  cranial  sutures  of  the  negro  close  at  a  very  early  age. 
Negro  children,  it  is  admitted,  are  exceedingly  bright  and  quick 
to  learn;  remarkable  instances  of  precocious  intelligence  among 
them  are  frequently  observed.  Thus,  the  young  son  of  Behanzin, 
the  exiled  king  of  Dahomey,  carried  off  all  the  honors  at  the 
Parisian  lycee  to  which  he  had  been  sent  from  Martinique.  But 
after  the  age  of  puberty  development  soon  ceases,  the  expecta- 
tions raised  by  the  earlier  achievements  are  disappointed,  and  no 
further  intellectual  progress  is  to  be  looked  for.  It  is  true,  many 
investigators  claim  that  the  negro  continues  his  mental  growth 
in  adult  life,  although  the  sutures  of  his  brain  have  closed;  but 
the  proofs  given  in  support  of  this  favorable  view  relate  rather  to 
increased  cunning  and  craftiness  in  trade  than  to  the  growth  of 
the  general  intellectual  capacities ;  no  one  would  deny  that  negroes 
accumulate  experience  in  later  life,  but  organic  development  of 
the  faculties  seems  to  cease  at  an  early  stage.  Even  if  we  accept 
this  unfavorable  view,  however,  it  does  not  necessarily  follow 
that  the  negro  race  is  permanently  uncivilizable.  When  we  look 
at  the  low  stage  of  civilization  among  the  African  negroes,  we 
can  hardly  avoid  the  conclusion  that  it  is  due  rather  to  social, 
political,  and  climatic  conditions  than  to  the  physiological,  per- 
sonal incapacity  of  the  negro.  The  difference  between  the  average 
negro  and  the  average  European  does  not  explain,  nor  is  it  at  all 
commensurate  to,  the  difference  between  their  respective  civiliza- 
tions. The  social  conditions  that  have  kept  the  negro  from 
acquiring  a  higher  organization  lie  in  the  fact  of  the  constant 
shifting  of  the  African  populations,  which  are  not  held  in  place 
by  the  physical  conformation  of  territory  such  as  that  of  Greece 
and  Italy.  The  African  societies  were  thus  not  given  time  to 
strike  roots  and  to  acquire  a  national  tradition  and  history  —  the 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       155 

memory  of  races  —  which  is  one  of  the  chief  ingredients  of 
civilization. 

We  have  already  seen  how  utterly  all  social  or  national  self- 
consciousness  is  lacking  in  the  negroes,  and  how  localized  their 
interests  are.  It  is  a  noteworthy  fact,  in  this  connection,  that  as 
the  negroes  have  no  experience  of  social  or  political  unity,  so  their 
languages  can  express  very  few  general  conceptions.  In  con- 
versing with  negroes,  Europeans  constantly  note  that  the  mind  of 
the  individual  seems  far  stronger  and  more  apt  than  the  language 
which  he  must  use  to  express  his  thoughts.  Can  we  not  here 
surmise  a  subtle  connection  between  the  realization  of  true  social 
and  national  unity  and  the  existence  in  the  psychology  of  a  race 
of  those  general  conceptions  upon  which  all  higher  intellectual 
civilization  is  founded?  No  more  striking  proof  could  be  found 
of  the  truth  that  we  are  what  we  are  through  society,  than  the 
fact  that  the  negro  race,  powerful  in  physique,  strong  and  normal 
in  intellect,  has  not  achieved  a  higher  social  and  intellectual 
civilization.  Should  favorable  conditions  for  the  existence  and 
development  of  permanent  societies  in  Africa  be  brought  about,  it 
then  would  admit  of  little  doubt  that  the  negro  race  would 
develop  in  civilization  —  a  civilization  proper  to  it,  rather  than 
an  imitation  of  the  European  type.  In  view  of  the  fact  that  the 
physiological  characteristics  of  the  white  race  have  been  pro- 
foundly modified  in  the  course  of  its  development,  it  may  not  seem 
altogether  extravagant  to  say  that  even  the  cranial  structure  of 
the  negro  race  may  be  affected  by  a  change  in  its  social,  political, 
and  economic  conditions;  or,  if  we  should  decide  that  cranial 
structure  lacks  all  demonstrable  importance  in  this  matter,  it 
might  at  least  be  asserted  that,  if  certain  conditions  inimical  to 
intellectual  development  after  puberty  are  removed,  the  negro 
race  may,  notwithstanding  its  unpromising  characteristics,  develop 
in  civilization.  Now,  perhaps  the  circumstance  most  unfavorable 
to  progress  is  the  powerful  strain  of  sensuality  in  negro  nature, 
which  swallows  up  all  the  best  energies  after  puberty  has  been 
reached.  The  deadly  climate  of  parts  of  Africa,  and  the  horrid 
conditions  of  internecine  warfare  and  cannibalism,  have  hereto- 
fore rendered  a  high  birth-rate  necessary.     With  more  peaceful 


156  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

and  settled  conditions,  a  gradual  moderation  of  the  powerful 
sexual  impulses  could  reasonably  be  expected,  and  we  might  then 
hope  for  the  growth  of  intellectual  capacity  even  after  the  age 
of  maturity. 

In  the  past  the  negro  race  has  shown  no  tendency  toward 
higher  development,  except  under  the  tutelage  of  other  races; 
and,  among  the  alien  civilizations  that  have  exerted  a  profound 
influence  upon  the  African  race,  that  of  the  Moslem  Hamites  and 
Arabs  is  the  most  important.  Penetrating  into  Africa  from  tlie 
north  by  way  of  the  Sahara,  the  cavalry  hordes  of  the  Hamites  of 
north  Africa  succeeded  in  forming  reasonably  permanent  states 
throughout  the  northern  Sudan,  and  in  influencing  the  native 
negro  societies  both  physiologically  and  intellectually.  The  great 
principalities  founded  by  the  Fulbe  in  the  Niger  country,  and  by 
the  Tuaregs  in  the  region  about  Timbuctoo,  are  the  most  striking 
examples  of  this  activity.  The  states  thus  founded  belong  to  the 
feudal  type;  the  agricultural  negroes  form  the  subject  peasant 
class;  while  the  Moslem  invaders  constitute  a  nobility  of  armed 
cavaliers.  It  admits  of  no  doubt  that  the  civilization  of  Africa 
has  been  improved  by  this  conquest.  The  conquering  tribes 
brought  with  them  a  written  literature,  and  many  industrial  and 
domestic  arts,  which  they  imparted  to  the  conquered  races.  Of 
course,  this  form  of  conquest  was  possible  only  in  the  regions 
where  cavalry  could  penetrate;  the  dense  primeval  forests  of 
Africa,  where  the  tzetze  fly  renders  the  raising  and  keeping  of 
horses  impossible,  set  limits  to  the  out-and-out  conquest  by  Berber 
and  Arab  tribes. 

This  great  forest  region,  however,  the  Arabs  entered  from  the 
north  and  east  as  traders,  and  in  so*  doing  they  gave  an  entirely 
new  and  sinister  meaning  to  African  slavery.  As  beasts  of  bur- 
den cannot  survive  in  these  parts  of  Africa,  the  traders  needed 
human  carriers  to  convey  their  freight.  Starting  from  some 
commercial  town  on  the  upper  Nile,  they  would  purchase  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  slaves  to  carry  their  wares  into  the  interior.  But 
the  goods  transported  back,  the  rubber  and  ivory,  necessitated  a 
much  larger  number  of  carriers,  so  that  a  great  demand  for 
slaves  arose  wherever  the  traders  penetrated.    The  chieftains  of 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       1 57 

the  interior  were  naturally  anxious  to  obtain  the  goods  which 
added  to  the  not  very  extreme  luxury  of  their  existence.  They 
gave  up  their  slaves  in  payment,  and  reimbursed  themselves  by 
making  slave-raids  into  neighboring  territories.  The  mutual  hos- 
tility of  the  African  populations  was  thus  increased  a  hundred 
fold.  Negroes  themselves,  converted  to  Islam,  or  negro  and  Arab 
half-breeds,  often  became  the  most  cruel  slave-hunters.  One  of 
the  most  notorious  of  these  —  Tippu  Tib  —  had  an  escort  of  ten 
thousand  armed  slaves  when  he  made  his  raids  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Nyangwe  on  the  upper  Congo.  Whole  countries  were  in  this 
way  depopulated,  among  them  the  fertile  and  prosperous  region 
of  the  upper  Congo,  whose  entire  population  was  driven  from  its 
villages,  murdered,  or  carried  off  into  slavery.  The  entire  Mako- 
lolo  tribe,  which  Stanley  had  visited,  was  in  this  way  annihilated, 
with  the  exception  of  the  women  and  children,  who  were  carried 
to  the  slave-markets.  The  cruelty  of  this  traffic  and  the  suffering 
inflicted  upon  the  captives  pass  description  and  comprehension. 
It  is  therefore  clear  that  the  Moslems  acted  as  a  civilizing  influ- 
ence only  in  the  countries  where  they  settled  down  permanently, 
and  that  they  brought  only  woe  and  destruction  to  the  regions 
invaded  by  their  slave-trade. 

The  religion  of  Islam  has  been  adopted  by  most  of  the  negro 
tribes  that  are  subject  to  Mohammedan  rule.  But  the  conversions 
are  usually  superficial;  a  few  ceremonious  observances  are 
adopted,  but  for  the  rest  the  old  customs  and  practices  of  fetish 
continue.  Many  observers  believe  that  Islam  is  destined  to  con- 
quer all  of  tropical  Africa,  and  that  Christianity  will  not  there 
make  any  progress.  It  seems,  however,  that  in  the  forest  region, 
where  the  negro  race  exists  in  its  original  form,  the  rule  of 
fetish  is  not  as  yet  seriously  threatened  by  either  of  the  two  great 
Aryan  religions.  Christianity  has  one  advantage  over  Islam :  it 
can  use  images  to  typify  noble  qualities  and  characteristics,  and 
thus  can  make  its  teachings  more  comprehensible  to  the  mind  of 
the  African,  who  is  not  trained  to  deal  with  abstract  ideas.  This 
Islam  cannot  do  because  of  its  iconomachy;  on  the  other  hand, 
the  latter  cult  has  a  great  advantage  in  the  fact  that  it  demands 
only  a  few  concrete  observances  of  prayer  and  fasting,  whereas 


158  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  code  of  morals  of  the  Christian  religion  is  so  loftily  ideal,  and 
is,  moreover,  so  frequently  disregarded  by  most  of  the  whites 
themselves,  that  the  negroes,  in  their  matter-of-fact  way  of  judg- 
ing actions  and  men,  lose  confidence  in  Christianity,  and  fail  to 
understand  its  true  greatness  and  strength.  The  idea  of  a  per- 
sonal, sympathizing  divinity  has  a  great  attractiveness  to  the 
negro  mind,  haunted  as  it  is  by  terrible  fears  of  a  hostile  spirit- 
world;  but  the  converted  negroes  are  inclined  to  make  very 
definite  demands  upon  the  benevolence  of  God.  Converted  to 
either  religion  in  form,  they  usually  remain  fetishists  in  sub- 
stance; and  when,  on  an  evil  day,  a  prayer  for  help  is  not 
answered,  strong  doubts  spring  up,  and  the  negro  convert  decides 
that,  after  all,  he  had  better  conciliate  the  cruel  spirits  who  would 
make  a  plaything  of  him,  than  trust  to  help  from  the  great 
divinity,  mighty,  but  far  off,  and  perhaps,  after  all,  indifferent  to 
his  fate.  Great  social  transformations  will  have  to  take  place  in 
Africa  before  either  Islam  or  Christianity  can  truly  become  the 
religion  of  the  central  African  populations. 

Having  already  briefly  touched  upon  the  influence  of  European 
civilization  in  Africa,  it  still  remains  for  us  to  investigate  more 
closely  the  momentous  problems  summoned  up  by  the  meeting  of 
white  and  black  races  in  the  Dark  Continent.  The  basis  of  Euro- 
pean intervention  in  Africa  was  from  the  first  the  clear  and  well- 
defined  interest  of  commerce  —  both  the  need  of  depots  of  trade 
close  to  the  great  reservoirs  of  the  natural  wealth  of  Africa,  and 
the  fact  that  the  native  tribes  of  the  coast  levied  excessive  transit 
dues  upon  the  commerce  of  Europeans  and  of  natives.  As  this 
has  been  the  primary  cause .  of  European  interference,  so  the 
methods  employed  in  African  administration  must  have  in  view 
first  of  all  the  creation  of  a  sound  economic  basis  for  African  life. 
A  civilizing  policy  must  begin  at  this  point.  The  African  negro 
cannot  be  civilized  by  the  destruction  of  his  native  institutions  or 
by  pouring  into  his  mind  the  sum  of  European  education.  The 
entire  economic  basis  of  negro  society  must  first  be  changed.  With 
the  social  growth  consequent  upon  this  development  the  indi- 
vidual, too,  will  become  more  highly  civilized,  and  the  gravest 
abuses  that  now  bind  the  negro  race  will  be  overcome. 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       1 59 

With  almost  mathematical  precision  it  can  be  demonstrated 
that  the  reform  of  the  most  vicious  characteristics  of  African  life 
will  be  the  certain  consequence  of  a  few  simple  changes  in 
economic  organization ;  and  we  may,  indeed,  anticipate  an  unfold- 
ing of  new  and  better  social  energies,  when  the  ground  has  thus 
been  cleared  of  the  worst  impediments  to  progress. 

As  the  African  natives  are  specially  deficient  on  the  side  of 
the  mechanical  arts,  the  development  of  industrial  education  is  of 
great  importance.  The  African  missions,  especially  those  of  the 
English  Protestant  church,  have  been  much  criticised  for  their 
methods  of  education.  Thus,  Archdeacon  Farler,  in  his  report  on 
eastern  Africa,  says  that  the  instruction  given  by  these  missions 
is  too  scholastic;  other  travelers  and  explorers  are  most  severe 
in  their  judgment  of  the  characteristics  and  behavior  of  the 
"missionary-made  man."  Dressed  in  European  frock-coat  and 
top-hat,  and  displaying  with  pride  a  smattering  of  English  educa- 
tion, the  "civilized"  natives  love  to  swagger  about  in  the  coast 
towns,  despising  manual  work  and  the  customs  of  their  race. 
They  have  stripped  off  the  restraints  of  their  native  religion  and 
are  far  from  having  adopted  the  morals  of  Christianity.  In 
order  to  avoid  the  continuance  of  conditions  like  these,  the  mis- 
sions are  being  urged  to  educate  the  natives  to  an  appreciation  of 
the  dignity  of  labor  in  the  handicrafts,  to  instruct  them  in  their 
native  language,  and  to  encourage  the  maintenance  of  all  local 
customs  that  are  not  barbarous.  Some  of  the  missions  have 
already  achieved  much  in  industrial  education  and  in  the  manual 
training  of  natives.  State  industrial  schools  are  also  being  estab- 
lished, both  in  the  French,  the  German,  and  the  British  colonies. 
By  nature,  the  African  negro  is  averse  to  labor,  which  he  thinks 
ought  to  be  performed  by  women  and  slaves.  He  is  only  too 
ready  to  apply  to  himself  the  English  definition  of  "  gentleman." 
To  many  colonial  publicists  the  gradual  methods  of  education 
appear  too  slow  and  uncertain  in  their  results ;  in  order  to  develop 
the  great  natural  resources  of  Africa  and  to  teach  the  mass  of  the 
natives  proper  industrial  methods,  they  believe  that  some  system 
of  forced  labor  will  have  to  be  introduced;  and  withal  the 
agitation  for  the  abolition  of  the  native  system  of  slavery  in 


l6o  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Africa  continues.  All  these  considerations  render  the  labor  ques- 
tion in  Africa  exceedingly  intricate  and  difficult. 

In  all  discussions  of  African  slavery  it  is  very  important  to 
distinguish  between  the  slave-trade  and  domestic  serfdom.  We 
have  already  described  the  suffering  and  desolation  wrought  in 
large  parts  of  Africa  by  slave-raids  and  transportation.  Through 
the  efforts  of  a  number  of  humanitarian  spirits,  like  Cardinal 
Lavigerie,  the  public  opinion  of  Europe  has  been  directed  toward 
the  extirpation  of  the  slave-trade,  and  by  international  agreement 
the  traffic  is  now  forbidden  throughout  the  European  dominions 
in  Africa.  It  has  not,  however,  been  possible  as  yet  entirely  to 
suppress  it;  in  fact,  such  a  radical  cure  could  be  hoped  for  only 
after  a  total  revolution  in  the  methods  of  African  trade  has  been 
accomplished.  Today  the  slave-trade  is  carried  on  covertly,  under 
the  name  of  "contract  labor,"  even  by  Europeans  in  their  own 
colonies,  especially  in  the  Congo  Free  State  and  in  the  Portuguese 
possessions. 

When  we  consider  the  real  nature  of  the  African  slave-trade, 
we  shall  see  how  completely  its  existence  is  conditioned  by  the 
general  character  of  African  economic  life.  As  slaves  are  the  only 
beasts  of  burden  that  can  be  used  in  the  interior,  so  they  are  also 
the  most  universal  and  satisfactory  currency.  At  present,  when 
the  slave-trade  cannot  be  openly  carried  on  in  the  coast  towns, 
the  trader  will  start  with  a  consignment  of  powder  and  guns, 
which  are  comparatively  easy  to  transport.  When  he  reaches  the 
confines  of  the  slave-holding  regions,  he  will  begin  to  purchase 
slaves,  whom  he  carries  with  him  on  his  journey,  and  uses  partly 
to  pay  for  the  ivory  and  rubber  which  he  buys,  partly  to  convey 
these  purchased  goods  back  to  the  trading-stations.  An  example 
of  the  status  of  African  currency  is  given  by  Miss  Kingsley,  when 
she  describes  the  fine  paid  by  a  local  chieftain  to  a  British  com- 
missioner for  having  killed  and  eaten  several  converts.  It  con- 
sisted of  one  hundred  balls  of  rubber,  six  ivory  teeth,  four  bundles 
of  fiber,  three  cheeses,  a  canoe,  two  china  basins,  and  five  "  ladies 
in  rather  bad  repair."  The  commissioner,  being  a  newcomer,  was 
much  astonished,  especially  at  the  last  item,  but  Miss  Kingsley 
assured  him  that  they  were  perfectly  "correct"  and  could  be 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       l6l 

traded  off  for  ivory.  This  combination  of  servant,  carrier,  and 
currency  makes  the  slave  almost  indispensable  as  long  as  no  rail- 
ways, roads,  and  metal  money  exist.  In  the  remoter  regions  of 
Africa  this  abuse  will  therefore  continue  to  thrive  in  some  more 
or  less  veiled  form  until  the  industrial  conditions  of  the  country 
have  been  changed  radically.  One  result  of  the  long-continued 
slave-trade  is  that  the  population  of  Africa  is  far  below  the 
natural  limit,  and  large  districts  of  fertile  land  are  almost  entirely 
deserted;  an  opportunity  is  thus  afforded  for  bringing  in  large 
bodies  of  alien  settlers,  from  India  or  other  regions,  without  any 
displacement  of  native  tribes. 

When  we  turn  to  consider  domestic  slavery  among  the  Arabs 
and  negroes  in  Africa,  we  encounter  far  fewer  abuses.  The 
African  slave  is  not  looked  down  upon,  nor  is  the  door  of  hope 
forever  closed  to  him.  Slaves  who  have  survived  the  sufferings  of 
transport,  when  exhibited  in  the  market-places  of  such  towns  as 
Kano  in  Nigeria,  were  often  apparently  in  the  happiest  of  moods. 
Being  an  object  now  of  considerable  value,  they  were  cared  for 
more  properly  and  groomed  up  so  as  to  present  the  best  appear- 
ance to  intending  purchasers.  The  slave  women  know  that  they 
may,  through  gaining  the  favor  of  their  masters,  become  power- 
ful and  even  be  the  mothers  of  kings.  The  male  slaves  also  may 
rise  to  importance  and  wealth,  if  luck  favors  them;  of  course, 
there  is  still  a  good  deal  of  suffering  in  domestic  slavery,  and  the 
separation  from  home  and  dear  ones  is  most  cruel;  but  it  does 
not  mean  absolute  and  abject  degradation  forever,  and  often  it 
even  opens  the  door  to  new  opportunities  and  to  a  welcome  change 
of  experiences. 

The  slave-trade  is  throughout  European  colonies  and  depend- 
encies made  a  criminal  offense ;  a  man  so  influential  as  the  cousin 
of  the  sultan  of  Zanzibar  was  imprisoned  for  six  months  and  lost 
all  his  slaves,  by  sentence  of  his  sovereign  relative,  for  being 
mixed  up  with  the  slave-trade.  Domestic  slavery,  however,  can- 
not be  dealt  with  so  harshly.  The  experience  in  Zanzibar  and 
Pemba  in  this  respect  is  most  instructive.  By  the  decree  of  the 
sultan  of  Zanzibar,  any  slave  in  the  protectorate  may  demand  his 
freedom  by  simply  applying  to  the  so-called  "  Court  of  Slavery." 


1 62  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Comparatively  few,  however,  make  use  of  this  opportunity ;  thus, 
in  the  year  1899,  the  total  number  was  only  3,757.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  the  slaves  in  Zanzibar  have  little  to  gain  by  seeking  eman- 
cipation. They  are  usually  bound  to  work  for  only  three  days  on 
the  lands  of  their  masters ;  in  return  for  this  they  receive  a  house 
and  a  land-allotment.  The  word  mtumwa,  unlike  our  "slave," 
carries  no  stigma,  and  is  simply  a  class  designation.  In  fact,  the 
relation  is  generally  a  mild  kind  of  serfdom.  The  slaves  often 
say:  "Why  should  we  seek  freedom?  We  have  a  good  home, 
plenty  of  food,  and  no  hard  work.  Our  master  is  kind,  and  we 
are  fond  of  the  children.  What  should  we  gain  by  being  freed  ?  " 
The  serfs  live  in  small  communities  around  the  master's  house, 
where  they  enjoy  fellowship  and  protection ;  emancipation,  there- 
fore, means  a  loss  of  caste  and  home  to  them.  When  freed,  they 
find  life  dull  and  monotonous,  and  have  to  work  too  hard  for  a 
living.  They  often  come  before  the  court,  asking  to  be  returned  to 
slavery,  and  are  deeply  disappointed  because  this  cannot  be  done. 
Among  those  who  are  liberated,  a  large  number  become  vagrants 
and  a  public  charge.  For  a  time  it  was  attempted  to  enforce 
Article  VI  of  the  sultan's  decree,  which  provides  that  "  any  per- 
son who  applies  for  emancipation  shall  show  that  he  will  have  a 
regular  domicile  and  means  of  subsistence."  The  usual  method 
of  showing  this  was  by  bringing  in  a  labor  contractor  who  was 
ready  to  hire  the  emancipated  slave  and  give  him  shelter.  While 
the  two  senior  missions  approved  of  this  method  as  preventing 
vagrancy,  the  junior  mission,  less  experienced  in  African  affairs, 
objected  on  the  ground  that  it  was  merely  a  way  of  transferring 
the  slave  from  one  master  to  another,  and  its  view  was  adopted 
in  England.  Article  VI  is  therefore  no  longer  enforced,  and 
vagrancy  has  again  increased.  This  example  is  a  typical  one,  and 
shows  that  domestic  slavery  does  not  press  very  heavily  upon  the 
serfs,  and  that  those  who  seek  freedom  generally  become  a  public 
charge. 

The  true  and  complete  abolition  of  slavery  can  come  only  with 
a  structural  change  in  African  economic  life,  and  can  only  gradu- 
ally be  brought  about.  The  economic  ruin  of  the  large  Arab 
plantations  on  the  east  coast,  which  is  already  beginning,  as  a 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       1 63 

result  of  the  changed  economic  conditions,  will  throw  a  larger 
population  into  the  towns,  and  will  lead  to  a  parceling-out  of  the 
estates  among  peasant  holders.  Among  the  negroes  in  central 
and  west  Africa  the  increased  opportunity  of  the  slaves  for  gain- 
ing wealth  is  also  tending  to  break  down  the  system. 

With  the  gradual  disappearance  of  slavery,  the  question  arises 
what  system  of  labor  organization  is  to  take  its  place.  The 
importation  of  contract  labor  from  China  and  India  is  far  too 
costly  in  most  parts  of  Africa  to  become  a  general  system.  In 
western  Africa  it  is  made  well-nigh  impossible  on  account  of  the 
unfavorable  climatic  conditions.  When  it  was  attempted  to  use 
coolie  labor  in  the  French  Congo,  the  mortality  among  the 
laborers  ran  as  high  as  70  per  cent.  In  east  Africa  alone  has 
Hindu  contract  labor  been  used  successfully.  Another  method  of 
gaining  an  adequate  labor  supply  is  to  sanction  labor  contracts 
with  the  natives,  or  force  them  to  work  by  imposing  heavy  taxes 
upon  them.  The  high  hut-taxes  of  southern  Africa  are  levied  for 
this  purpose,  as  the  only  way  in  which  the  native  can  get  the  cur- 
rency for  paying  his  taxes  is  by  working  for  white  men  in  the 
mines  or  on  the  farms.  In  more  direct  fashion,  the  Glen  Grey  Act 
levies  a  tax  of  ten  shillings  upon  every  native  who  has  not  worked 
outside  of  his  district  for  three  months  in  the  year.  The  extension 
of  this  peculiar  use  of  fiscal  methods  to  central  and  west  Africa 
is  often  advocated,  and  a  moderate  hut-tax  has  already  been  intro- 
duced in  many  colonies  on  the  west  coast;  but,  as  the  conditions 
in  these  regions  are  so  utterly  different  from  those  which  prevail 
in  white  man's  Africa,  the  initiation  of  methods  which  do  not  pass 
without  challenge  even  in  the  Rhodesian  sphere  would  certainly 
be  unwise,  and  would  probably  invite  disastrous  consequences. 

While  it  is  true  that  the  natives  of  the  tropical  regions  of 
Africa  are  at  present  not  much  inclined  to  labor,  there  are  still 
certain  tribes,  like  the  Krumen  and  the  Hausas,  and  the  agricul- 
tural populations  under  Mohammedan  rule,  that  prove  the  capa- 
city of  the  African  for  toil  under  proper  economic  conditions. 
Before  all,  there  is  one  prominent  fact  which  must  not  be  over- 
looked in  this  matter :  with  the  establishment  of  peace  throughout 
Africa,  with  the  stoppage  of  tlie  murderous  slave-raids  and  of 


1 64  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

cannibalism,  with  the  introduction  of  sanitary  measures,  such  as 
vaccination,  the  population  of  Africa,  which  has  a  great  natural 
fecundity,  will  rise  rapidly  toward  the  limits  of  subsistence. 
While  the  natives  are  now  surrounded  with  an  abundance  of 
natural  fruits,  methods  of  intensive  agriculture  and  of  careful 
industrial  work  will  soon  become  necessary  in  order  to  support  the 
growing  population.  Thus  far  the  African  has  made  his  life  pos- 
sible by  killing  his  neighbor ;  this  resource  being  cut  off,  the  only 
alternative  will  be  to  work.  No  legislation,  no  contract-labor 
system,  will  be  necessary  to  induce  the  natives  to  work  more 
steadily.  Moreover,  it  should  not  be  believed  that  they  are  with- 
out economic  wants.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  already  require 
large  amounts  of  European  manufactured  goods,  and  their 
demands  are  constantly  expanding ;  a  corroding  climate  and  care- 
less habits  make  them  far  more  frequent  purchasers  of  textiles 
than  are  the  thrifty  Chinese.  A  policy  that  would  attempt  unduly 
to  accelerate  the  operation  of  these  natural  causes,  and  would  not 
shrink  from  breaking  down  native  societies  and  employing  force, 
in  order  to  gain  a  quick  supply  of  labor  for  the  exploitation  of 
African  natural  wealth,  must  be  qualified  as  distinctly  opposed 
to  the  purposes  of  civilizing  activity  in  Africa.  The  general 
enslavement  of  the  negro  race  does  not  offer  a  proper  solution  of 
the  problems  of  African  development. 

It  will  be  seen  that,  throughout,  the  foundation  of  a  civilizing 
policy  in  Africa  must  be  an  economic  one.  The  prevention  of 
wasteful  exploitation,  and  construction  of  roads  and  railways,  the 
introduction  of  a  metallic  currency,  will  do  away  with  the  most 
inhuman  abuses  in  African  life.  It  will  change  the  constitution 
of  African  society  so  as  to  prevent  the  exploitation  of  the  depend- 
ent classes,  while  the  establishment  of  universal  peace  will  turn 
the  energies  of  the  people  toward  economic  development.  The 
negro  population  in  Africa  has  thus  far  lived  in  the  presence  of 
overwhelming  natural  phenomena,  and  in  a  constant  state  of 
fluidity  which  has  allowed  but  very  little  of  settled  civilization  and 
of  national  self-consciousness  to  grow  up.  The  negroes  have, 
however,  developed  a  strong  sense  of  individual  justice,  and  it  is 
justice  that  they  require,  rather  than  the  rarer  gifts  of  benevolence 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       1 65 

and  the  blessings  of  civilization.  Now,  if  justice  has  any  definite 
meaning,  it  implies  respect  for  the  sphere  of  an  individual  exist- 
ence. We  certainly  cannot  be  just  to  the  African  if  we  demolish 
all  his  native  institutions,  simply  because  we  will  not  take  the 
trouble  to  understand  them.  No  cruelty  of  war,  no  suffering,  will 
be  resented  by  the  African  so  much  as  an  attack  upon  his  private 
property ;  and  unless  the  system  of  concessions  to  European  com- 
panies is  to  prove  a  curse  to  Africa,  it  must  respect  scrupulously 
the  native  property  rights.  The  European  must  also  have  a  care 
not  to  break  up  further  such  tribal  and  social  unity  as  exists 
among  the  African  populations.  The  basest  forms  of  social  life 
exist  among  the  jetsam  and  flotsam  of  tribal  populations  along  the 
African  coast  and  in  south  Africa,  where  the  original  unity  has 
been  dissolved  by  European  interference.  It  is  here  that  the  mis- 
sions have  their  greatest  work  to  do,  by  creating  a  new  social  unity 
and  morality  for  those  which  have  been  so  recklessly  destroyed. 

We  have  seen  that  European  interference  may  succeed  in 
creating  a  new  economic  basis  for  African  life.  Whether  it  can 
do  more,  whether  it  can  deeply  and  permanently  influence  African 
life  in  the  direction  of  specifically  European  civilization  in  its 
intellectual  and  moral  aspects,  is  more  doubtful.  The  most  potent 
civilizing  agency  at  all  times  has  been  example,  and  in  this  respect 
the  relations  of  the  white  to  the  negro  race  have  be«i  particularly 
unfortunate.  The  white  men  who  have  come  to  Africa  have 
either  been  colonial  officials,  impatiently  waiting  for  their  next 
leave  of  absence,  with  little  insight  into  the  true  needs  of  native 
society;  or  traders  whose  sole  purpose  was  to  get  the  wealth  of 
the  natives  rapidly  and  for  the  cheapest  possible  return.  The 
missionaries,  men  often  of  single-hearted  devotion,  have  been  too 
few  to  act  as  a  leavening  force  upon  the  entire  mass  of  the  African 
negroes.  Moreover,  many  of  them  have  found  it  difficult  to  put 
their  message  into  the  form  of  greatest  helpfulness  to  the  African. 
Their  example,  too,  holds  up  the  ideal  of  an  intellectual  and 
spiritual  life,  rather  than  that  of  mechanical  and  industrial  effi- 
ciency which  the  Africans  so  much  need.  In  these  respects  the 
Islamitic  races  have  the  advantage.  They  come  in  contact  with 
the  Africans  in  large  numbers,  as  merchants,  industrials,  and 


1 66  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

rulers ;  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  they  will  continue  to  exert  a  far 
greater  personal  influence  upon  the  African  race  than  will  the 
Europeans.  This  is  true  also  of  the  Hindus,  who  are  settling  in 
large  numbers  along  the  east  coast.  The  French  seem  of  all 
European  nations  to  be  most  successful  in  charming  the  African 
natives  into  civilization.  Their  missionaries  work  in  large  com- 
munities, and  are  thus  assisted  by  the  experience  of  many  societies 
operating  for  a  long  time.  Moreover,  the  French  do  not  exhibit 
an  excessive  sense  of  race-superiority  over  the  negroes.  They 
have  therefore  already  exercised  a  distinctive  civilizing  influence 
in  northern  Africa.  The  classical  example  of  a  relation  of  mutual 
friendliness  between  the  white  race  and  the  black  is  the  life  of  the 
unhappy  island  of  Martinique  —  unhappy  not  only  on  account  of 
cruel  natural  catastrophes,  but  on  account  of  the  terrible  force  of 
atavism  which,  with  the  gradual  departure  of  the  white  popula- 
tion, is  dragging  the  charming  race  of  the  island  back  toward  the 
dark  superstitions  of  African  life.  It  is  remarkable  that  in  coun- 
tries like  Martinique,  Hayti,  and  the  southern  states  of  the  Union, 
the  vices  of  the  negro  populations  assume  more  repulsive  aspects 
than  they  bear  in  the  African  home.  This  is  due  no  doubt  to  the 
fact  that  the  original  social  unity  has  in  these  cases  been  destroyed. 
An  African  society,  although  it  may  have  barbarous  customs, 
still  has  a  certain  moral  character  which  preserves  individual 
morality  and  dignity  of  life.  This  social  check  is  very  much 
impaired,  and  often  totally  absent,  among  the  American  negroes. 
The  two  things  which  the  negro  race  needs  most  are  a  feeling 
of  social  cohesion  and  responsibility,  and  the  presence  of  true 
models  in  the  person  of  leaders.  The  mass  of  the  negroes  cannot 
pattern  primarily  upon  the  whites  with  whom  they  come  in  con- 
tact, but  should  have  leaders  of  their  own  race  to  look  up  to.  It 
is  only  by  showing  consideration  to  negroes  of  high  character  and 
intelligence  that  the  whites  can  assist  in  setting  up  the  best  models 
for  social  imitation  among  the  negro  race.  No  more  statesman- 
like and  far-seeing  principle,  both  for  Africa  and  for  America, 
can  be  imagined  in  this  matter  than  that  of  President  Roosevelt, 
when  he  says  that  "  the  door  of  hope  must  not  be  closed  upon  the 
neg^o  race."    This  does  not  mean,  even  in  its  most  distant  impli- 


THE  NEGRO  RACE  AND  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION       1 67 

cation,  political  power  over  the  whites,  nor  does  it  demand  general 
social  equality;  it  simply  means  that  the  men  who  are  natural 
leaders  among  the  negroes,  on  account  of  high  qualities  of  mind 
and  soul,  shall  not  be  degraded  by  being  excluded  from  all  chance 
of  preferment  on  account  of  their  color,  and  that  no  better  service 
can  be  done  the  negro  race  than  a  generous  recognition  of  the 
worth  of  its  best  men.  Applied  to  Africa,  it  means  that  any  policy 
which  would  treat  the  native  negro  race  as  destined  to  permanent 
bondage  in  favor  of  the  whites,  that  would  destroy  African  social 
life  and  degrade  its  leaders,  is  taking  the  straight  road  away  from 
the  salvation  of  the  African  race,  and  from  rendering  it  a  truly 
useful  member  of  the  family  of  nations. 


SOCIAL  SOLIDARITY  IN  FRANCE* 


CHARLES    R.    HENDERSON 
The  University  of  Chicago 


After  prolonged  discussion  both  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies 
and  in  the  Senate,  the  national  legislature  of  France  has  prac- 
tically approved  a  measure  which  commits  the  people  to  a  prin- 
ciple of  far-reaching  consequences.  While  the  final  action  has  not 
yet  been  taken,  there  is  general  agreement  that  the  two  chambers 
will  adopt  a  law  at  the  opening  of  the  next  session  which  will 
embody  the  conclusions  already  reached  by  separate  votes.  The 
student  of  administrative  law,  or  of  social  psychology,  or  of 
public  finance,  or  of  public  assistance,  will  find  in  the  bills  and  the 
discussion  instructive  illustrations  of  his  special  studies.^ 

I.  The  principle  of  national  obligation  is  formulated  in  the 
bills  now  before  the  French  legislature  in  the  phrase  "social 
solidarity."  The  opponents  of  the  bill  do  not  like  to  give  up  the 
word  "  charity."  There  may  be  some  hairsplitting  in  the  dialectic 
of  debate,  but  the  essential  issue  is  the  question  whether  the  nation 
will  adopt  an  efficacious  measure  to  meet  adequately  and  earnestly 
a  moral  obligation  which  all  parties  admit.     The  conservatives 

*  The  minister  of  the  interior,  in  August,  1905,  issued  a  circular  addressed  to 
the  prefects,  giving  them  an  analysis  of  the  essential  changes  which  will  be  made 
by  the  new  law  of  July  14,  1905.  Since  many  preliminary  arrangements  must  be 
made,  this  law  will  not  go  into  effect  until  January  i,  1907.  The  points  to  which  he 
calls  attention  are  fully  stated  in  the  text  of  the  article.  One  statement  found  in 
the  circular  illustrates  the  tactful  skill  required  in  making  the  law  acceptable  to  the 
rural  communes,  where  distrust  is  most  liable  to  be  awakened.  The  law  lays 
the  heavier  part  of  the  burden  on  the  state  at  large  when  the  commune  is  poor. 
Thus,  if  the  pension  accorded  is  100  francs,  in  a  poor  commune  belonging  to  a 
department  with  limited  resources,  the  ratios  would  be :  payment  by  the  state, 
Fr.  85.50;   the  department,  Fr.  4.50;   and  the  commune,  Fr.  10. 

*  Official  sources  for  this  study  are  found  in :  "  Rapport  fait  au  nom  de  la 
commission  d'assurance  et  de  prevoyance  sociales,"  etc.,  by  M.  Bienvenu  Martin, 
member  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  Annexe  au  Proces-verbal  de  la  seance  du 
4  avril  1903,  No.  889;  "Rapport  fait,"  etc.,  by  M.  Paul  Strauss,  Senator,  Annexe 
au  Proces-verbal  de  la  seance  du  23  fevrier  1904,  No.  43  ;  discussions  in  the  Senate, 
June  and  July,  1905,  Journal  ofRciel. 

168 


SOCIAL  SOLIDARITY  IN  FRANCE  1 69 

assert  that  relief  of  all  indigent  i>ersons  is  a  duty  of  all  the  strong ; 
but  they  are  not  ready  to  modify  the  method  on  which  reliance  has 
been  placed  for  centuries,  the  method  of  voluntary  charity,  nor  to 
recognize  in  the  government  the  proper  organ  for  performing  the 
duty.  In  the  minds  of  many  of  the  conservatives  still  under 
church  influence,  the  very  word  "  charity  "  is  almost  sacramental ; 
it  has  for  them  a  supernatural  significance;  it  is  above  common 
humanity;  and  they  are  in  revolt  against  the  phrase  "social 
solidarity."  Perhaps  those  with  a  strong  clerical  or  ecclesiastical 
bias  instinctively  feel  that  a  certain  kind  of  social  power,  surely 
an  important  social  function,  is  slipping  away  from  them;  for 
charity  in  the  ancient  regime  was  administered  chiefly  by  the 
church,  while  the  obvious  tendency  now  is  to  increase  the  activity 
of  the  commune,  the  department,  and  the  state  in  all  this  field. 
These  feelings,  which  are  entirely  natural  in  a  people  whose  his- 
tory and  traditions  are  those  of  France,  have  injected  an  element 
of  pathos,  of  regret,  and  of  bitterness  into  the  debate.  The  con- 
troversy over  the  separation  of  church  and  state  is  going  on  in  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies,  while  the  Senate  is  considering  the  exten- 
sion of  obligatory  relief.  To  the  conservative  theological  senti- 
ment is  joined  the  economic  and  political  prejudice  against  the 
enlargement  of  the  functions  of  the  local  and  general  govern- 
ments. 

The  advocates  of  the  new  measure  do  not  think  it  necessary 
to  base  action  on  individual  motives  and  sentiments.  "  Charity  " 
as  a  religious  motive  and  benevolent  disposition  is  beautiful  and 
worthy  when  it  is  sincere,  but  it  is  intangible,  impossible  to  verify 
by  objective  signs,  and  cannot  be  made  the  foundation  of  the 
action  of  a  democratic  people.  They  think  that  many  of  the 
works  which  are  done  in  the  name  of  this  "  supernatural  grace  " 
are  often  the  result  of  mixed  motives,  in  which  pride,  ambition, 
selfish  hope  and  fear  may  make  large  contributions.  The  English 
and  American  student  of  private  charity  will  add  with  regret  that 
the  vice  of  gambling  is  sanctioned  by  private  charities,  and  that 
much  money  is  raised  by  lotteries,  which  are  legally  authorized, 
and  which  are  favored  by  some  of  the  best  people  in  the  nation. 
It  is  less  pretentious  and  more  practical  to  act  upon  the  prin- 


170  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ciple  of  "solidarity,"  which  includes  enlightened  self-interest, 
national  duty,  and  the  sentiment  of  charity.  Individual  motives 
are  left  to  the  conscience  of  citizens  and  to  expert  psychologists. 
In  1902  the  "  Commission  d' assurance  et  de  prevoyance 
sociales,"  appointed  by  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  formulated  the 
principle  in  these  resolutions : 

The  commission  believes  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  republic  to  establish  a 
public  service  of  social  solidarity;  that  social  solidarity  differs  essentially  from 
charity  in  the  fact  that  it  recognizes  the  right  of  persons  designated  by  the 
law  and  gives  them  a  legal  means  of  enforcing  their  right;  that  the  principle 
of  social  solidarity  inspires  and  commands  two  distinct  forms  of  realization, 
insurance  and  assistance.  In  so  far  as  insurance  is  concerned,  its  purpose  is  to 
furnish  for  all  the  members  of  the  nation  the  means  of  assuring,  by  their  own 
personal  efforts,  a  pension  for  old  age  and  incapacity  for  labor.  In  relation 
to  assistance:  in  view  of  the  duty  of  the  nation  to  aid  an  old  person  or 
invalid  who  from  any  cause  is  deprived  of  resources,  and  believing  it  to  be  a 
necessary  deduction  from  the  premises  that  all  the  members  of  the  nation  are 
bound  to  share  the  burden  of  social  solidarity,  it  is  resolved  to  create,  upon 
these  principles,  a  service  of  social  solidarity,  and  to  take  for  the  basis  of 
study  the  two  reports  of  MM.  Guieysse  and  Bienvenu-Martin,  and  their 
propositions  for  a  law.* 

2.  History. —  The  principle  of  solidarity  is  not  a  recent  dis- 
covery. Even  in  mediaeval  times  church  and  state  co-operated  in 
measures  of  relief,  though  the  church  generally  acted  as  almoner 
of  charity,  and  the  intervention  of  the  government  was  for  a  long 
time  chiefly  repressive  and  primitive.  At  the  Revolution  the 
national  obligation  to  the  poor  was  distinctly  recognized  and 
embodied  in  legislation,  although  the  measures  adopted  were  not 
fitted  to  the  conditions,  and  came  to  grief  in  the  reactionary  move- 
ment which  has  not  yet  spent  its  force.  The  law  of  March  19, 
1793,  declared  in  its  preamble  that  relief  of  the  poor  is  a  national 

'  When  Senator  Strauss  was  challenged  (June  8,  1905)  for  favoring  the 
expression  "  solidarity  "  rather  than  "  charity,"  he  replied :  "  Whether  you  call 
beneficence  by  the  name  of  charity  or  solidarity,  and  whatever  be  the  motive 
followed  by  each  individual,  we  agree  in  striving  for  the  same  end.  But  when  I 
speak  of  private  charity,  it  is  almsgiving  that  I  have  in  view  ;  I  do  not  bring  into 
question  the  charitable  spirit  which  is  one  of  the  manifestations  of  fraternity  and  of 
solidarity.     We  are  establishing  here  something  more  and  better  than  a  charity 

which  is  voluntary,  capricious,  and   intermittent something  better  than   a 

charity  which  is  inadequate  and  humiliating." 


SOCIAL  SOLIDARITY  IN  FRANCE  1 71 

debt.  Early  in  the  nineteenth  century  the  principle  of  obligatory 
relief  of  dependent  children  found  expression  in  the  law  which 
gave  to  foundlings  the  protection  of  government.^  More  recent 
legislation  has  developed  and  applied  the  principle  in  various  laws 
and  decrees  relating  to  dependent  and  neglected  children.^ 

In  1838  the  support  of  insane  indigents  was  made  legally 
obligatory  in  the  course  of  administration;  but  this  may  have 
been  brought  about  by  the  exigencies  of  public  protection. 

The  creation  of  the  Superior  Council  of  Public  Relief  in  1889 
marked  a  new  stage  of  development  in  poor-relief  legislation.  A 
body  of  competent  persons  in  a  position  of  influence,  charged  with 
the  duty  of  studying  the  problem,  has  constantly  pressed  upon 
Parliament  the  necessity  of  improvement  in  the  treatment  of  the 
helpless  citizen. 

Gratuitous  medical  relief  was  provided  by  the  law  of  1893.'* 
When  it  was  discovered  by  the  competent  that  private  charity  was 
unable  or  unwilling  to  provide  for  the  dependent  sick  of  the 
nation,  and  when  the  legislation  finally  decreed  the  organization 
of  a  system  which  should  guarantee  every  French  citizen  neces- 
sary relief  in  the  hour  when  sickness  renders  him  incapable  of 
labor,  the  principle  of  national  obligation  was  formally  and  dis- 
tinctly expressed  in  a  statute.  More  than  a  decade  of  experience 
with  the  administration  of  this  law  has  furnished  arguments  and 
instruction  for  the  new  measures.  Since  1893  no  such  important 
proposition  directly  affecting  the  people  at  poverty  line  has  been 
brought  before  the  law-making  bodies.    Theories  of  the  functions 

'"  Loi  du  15  pluviose  au  XIII  (4  fevrier  1805)  relative  a  la  tutelle  des  enfants 
admis  dans  les  hospices;"  "  Decret  du  19  Janvier  181 1  concernant  les  enfavits 
trouves  ou  abandonnes  et  les  orphelins  pauvres." 

*  "  Loi  du  5  mai  1 869  sur  les  depenses  du  service  des  enfants  assistes  ;  "  "  Loi 
du  23  decembre  1874  (loi  Roussel)  sur  la  protection  des  enfants  du  premier  age;" 
"Loi  du  24  juillet  1889  sur  la  protection  des  enfants  maltraites  ou  moralement 
abandonnes;"  "Loi  du  19  avril  1898  pour  la  repression  des  violences,  voies  de 
fait,  actes  de  cruaute  et  attentats  commis  envers  les  enfants ;  "  "  Loi  du  27  juin 
1904  sur  le  service  des  enfants  assistes ;  "  "  Loi  de  finances  du  22  avril  1905." 
The  texts  of  these  laws  are  published  by  M.  G.  Rondel,  for  the  Societe  Inter- 
nationale pour  I'etude  des  questions  d'assistance,  in  Legislation  frangaise  en 
vigueur  sur  1' assistance  et  la  bienfaisance  (Paris,  16  rue  de  Miromesnil). 

'"Loi  du  15  juillet  1893  instituant  I'assistance  medical  obligatoire." 


172  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  government,  of  political  economy,  of  the  relation  of  public  to 
private  assistance,  and  of  administrative  law  are  involved,  and 
the  debate  is  a  battle  of  opposing  tendencies  and  schools  of 
thought.  The  objections  to  public  poor-relief  familiar  to  Malthus 
and  Chalmers  were  urged  to  prevent  the  passage  of  the  law  of 
1893,  and  they  are  repeated  in  1905;  but  in  vain.  Both  friends 
and  foes  of  this  particular  bill  agree  that  its  success  will  lead  to 
further  extension  of  state  action,  and  that  some  form  of  com- 
pulsory workingmen's  insurance  will  logically  follow.  Probably 
many  conservatives  would  be  willing  to  accept  this  measure  for 
relief  of  the  poor,  if  they  did  not  fear  that  similar  laws  will  push 
in  while  the  door  stands  ajar.  The  time  to  call  a  halt  was  in 
1 893 ;  for  the  obligation  to  afford  medical  relief  necessarily 
involved  some  degree  of  aid  for  the  aged,  the  incurable,  and  the 
infirm.  It  has  been  found  in  practice  simply  impossible  to  dis- 
tinguish dependent  persons  of  these  categories.  Old  age  is  liable 
to  disease,  and  to  diseases  which  place  the  person  in  a  condition 
where  he  is  unable  to  work  for  his  own  support.  The  Superior 
Council  of  Public  Assistance  stated  the  result  of  experience  in  this 
language :  "  Public  assistance  is  due  to  those  who,  temporarily 
or  permanently,  find  themselves  in  a  situation  where  they  cannot 
provide  for  themselves  the  necessities  of  life."  The  International 
Congress  of  Public  and  Private  Assistance  in  1889  passed  a 
resolution  to  the  same  effect. 

Since  1893  some  tentative  steps  have  been  taken  to  provide 
for  the  aged  who  are  indigent.®  In  the  law  of  March  27,  1897, 
the  state  bound  itself  to  give  subsidies  wherever  the  communes 
and  departments  voluntarily  took  the  initiative  in  providing  pen- 
sions for  the  indigent  aged  and  infirm.  This  law  was  not 
altogether  a  failure.  In  1897  the  number  of  departments  which 
acted  on  the  law  was  fourteen ;  in  190 1  this  number  had  increased 
to  fifty-two.  The  subsidy  contributed  by  the  state  rose  from 
13,041  francs  in  1897  to  273,181.47  francs  in  1902.  This  shows 
a  certain  degree  of  progress,  and  the  opponents  of  obligatory 

•"Articles  des  lois  de  finances  de  1897  et  1902  sur  la  participation  de  I'Etat 
aux  pensions  constituees  en  faveur  des  vieillards,  des  iniirmes  et  des  incurables 
pauvres." 


SOCIAL  SOLIDARITY  IN  FRANCE  173 

relief  took  the  ground  that  this  optional  law  should  remain.  M. 
Guyot,  senator  of  the  Rhone,  brought  in  a  counter-bill  in  which 
this  idea  was  embodied.  But  the  advocates  of  obligatory,  com- 
pulsory assistance  declare  that  the  optional  laws  are  inadequate. 
They  refer  to  the  fact  that  during  the  experimental  period,  when 
gratuitous  medical  relief  was  optional  with  local  administrations, 
its  action  was  irregular,  unequal,  and  uncertain.  There  were 
some  departments  which  introduced  it  with  vigor  and  afterward 
refused  to  continue  free  medical  relief,  and  within  departments 
there  were  communes  which  refused  to  co-operate. 

Nothing  short  of  a  uniform  and  compulsory  law,  under 
which  the  central  administration  is  actually  required  to  exercise 
initiative  and  control,  will  prove  adequate.  Many  local  bodies  are 
reluctant  to  introduce  a  new  tax  unless  constrained  by  supreme 
authority.  Other  municipalities  would  be  quite  willing  to  accept 
the  new  burden,  but  they  refuse  to  pay  the  debts  of  their 
neighbors;  they  are  aware  that,  unless  there  is  a  universal  law 
requiring  uniform  relief  in  all  communes,  the  liberal  communes 
would  attract  to  themselves  the  infirm,  incurable,  and  aged  from 
surrounding  places  where  the  burden  is  declined.  As  poor  persons 
feel  age  and  infirmity  coming  on,  they  would  move  into  places 
where  pensions  are  assured,  and  gain  a  legal  settlement  in  time  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  bounty.  The  inadequacy  of  the  optional 
method  was  argued  by  M.  Henri  Monod,  a  man  of  high  authority : 

If  relief  of  the  aged  and  infirm  exists  in  an  optional  form  and  has  some 
degree  of  efficacy  in  the  large  cities,  it  is  almost  nothing  in  the  rural  com- 
munities. In  the  presence  of  extreme  cases  the  only  means  left  to  the  adminis- 
trators of  relief  to  spare  these  unfortunates  the  tortures  of  hunger  and  cold  is 
to  class  them  with  vagabonds  and  mendicants  and  place  them  in  a  depot  de 
mendicite. 

The  authority  of  M,  Sabrau,  president  of  the  general  council  of 
the  asylums  of  Lyons,  is  invoked  as  a  witness  of  the  insufficiency 
of  optional  legislation.  Commenting  on  the  results  of  an  investi- 
gation made  by  the  minister  of  the  interior  in  1898,  he  said : 

The  impression  produced  by  this  investigation  is  that  the  relief  of  aged 
and  incurable  indigents  is  imperfect,  and  that  the  conseils  gcneraux  would 
favor  a  complete  system.  We  sum  up  this  part  of  our  report  by  saying: 
Under  our  laws  relief  of  the  aged  and  incurable  is  purely  optional ;   it  is  prac- 


174  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tically  confined  to  cities  of  the  larger  size;  it  is  often  administered  in  a  way 
to  injure  the  patients  of  Certain  hospitals;  it  is  alAiOst  always  administered  to 
the  disadvantage  of  the  depots  de  mendicite;  in  all  circumstances  it  is  insuffi- 
cient, and  we  should  be  in  a  position  much  more  miserable  if  private  charity 
did  not  support  a  great  number  of  aged  people. 

The  effects  of  the  optional  law  on  hospitals  are  very  grave. 
It  is  claimed  that  many  old,  infirm,  and  incurable  persons  are 
retained  in  hospitals  designed  for  the  treatment  of  curable 
maladies  —  persons  who  could  be  more  economically  supported  in 
their  homes,  or  boarded  in  families  and  asylums;  while  many 
persons  suffering  from  acute  disease  are  denied  the  help  of  hospi- 
tals because  the  wards  are  already  crowded  with  the  feeble  and 
incurable.  The  law  of  1893  (gratuitous  medical  relief)  does  not 
provide  for  chronic  cases;  but  the  local  authorities,  when  they 
see  that  an  invalid  has  no  sheltering  asylum,  will  retain  him  in  the 
hospital  in  spite  of  the  law,  rather  than  turn  him  out  to  perish. 
But  this  act  of  humanity  deprives  many  curable  cases  of  the  relief 
which  the  law  intends  to  give  them.  In  the  hospitals  for  the 
insane,  also,  many  senile  demented  are  kept  who  should  be  placed 
in  colonies  or  asylums,  or  boarded  out.  The  depots  de  metidicite 
were  designed  for  places  of  correction,  but  they  have  often  become 
mere  asylums  for  the  decrepit.  Even  prisons  and  houses  of  cor- 
rection are  crowded  with  the  helpless  and  incurable  for  whom  the 
law  provides  no  means  of  support. 

The  present  incomplete  system  involves  much  financial  waste. 
In  the  case  of  hospitals  the  need  of  central  control  and  direction 
is  obvious.  Under  optional  relief,  with  local  initiative,  there  were, 
in  1886,  39,248  beds  in  hospitals,  of  which  15,709  were  not  used; 
and  in  hospices  (asylums)  10,772  beds  out  of  67,964  were 
unoccupied.  In  1892,  a  census  taken  in  summer  showed  that  out 
of  a  total  of  165,694  beds,  only  125,534  were  occupied  on  June 
30,  or  75.76  per  cent.  On  February  28,  1901,  a  census  showed 
that  out  of  a  total  of  183,883  beds,  144,743  (78.81  per  cent.) 
were  occupied.  The  figures  indicate  that  after  medical  relief  was 
made  obligatory,  national  in  scope,  and  placed  under  central  con- 
trol, the  resources  were  more  fully  and  economically  used. 

The  extent  of  private  relief  of  the  aged  and  infirm  is  shown 


SOCIAL  SOLIDARITY  IN  FRANCE  1/5 

by  the  fact  that  93,438  persons  were  cared  for  in  asylums,  of 
whom  40,000  were  old  or  incurable.  In  these  institutions  30,000 
were  under  ecclesiastical  and  7,000  under  laic  care. 

3.  The  essential  factors  in  the  new  law. —  An  analysis  of  the 
Senate  bill,  as  compared  with  the  bill  previously  adopted  by  an 
almost  unanimous  vote  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  will  give 
concrete  expression  of  the  principle  of  social  solidarity  as  now 
accepted  by  French  public  opinion.  The  two  bills  are  almost 
identical  in  language,  and  they  are  in  entire  agreement  in  matters 
of  principle,  although  there  are  minor  variations  in  details,  and 
various  amendments  will  be  required  before  agreement  has  been 
reached. 

There  are  six  titles :  the  organization  of  assistance,  admission 
to  relief,  modes  of  relief,  ways  and  means,  jurisdiction,  and  mis- 
cellaneous provisions. 

TITLE  I.      ORGANIZATION  OF  ASSISTANCE 

The  vital  principle  of  social  legislation  is  expressed  in  the  first 
article :  "  Every  Frenchman  who  is  deprived  of  resources,  is  of 
the  age  of  seventy  years,  is  afflicted  and  sick  of  an  incurable  dis- 
ease, and  is  thus  unable  to  provide  for  his  own  wants  by  labor,  is 
to  receive,  under  the  conditions  here  recited,  the  relief  provided 
by  the  present  law."  This  solemn  declaration  of  the  law-making 
representatives  of  the  nation  assures  to  every  citizen,  when  he  is 
indigent  and  helpless,  the  friendly  aid  of  the  whole  people.  The 
law  explicitly  requires  that  no  citizen  shall  be  left  to  the  chance  of 
being  discovered  and  aided  by  some  charitable  agency.  Caprice 
is  excluded,  and  the  local  authorities  are  legally  required  to  act 
so  as  to  make  relief  certain.'^  An  alien  is  to  be  guaranteed  the 
same  relief  as  a  citizen,  if,  by  treaty  or  other  legal  arrangement, 
the  government  to  which  the  alien  belongs  has  bound  itself  to 
treat  indigent  Frenchmen  within  its  territory  in  the  same  way. 

^  One  difference  in  phrase  is  significant.  The  Chamber  of  Deputies  had  said : 
"  Tout  Fran<;ais  ....  a  droit  .  .  .  .  au  service  de  solidarite  sociale  institu6 
sous  forme  d'assistance  obligatoire  par  la  presente  loi."  The  Senate  document 
says :  "  Tout  Frangais  ....  regoit  ....  I'assistance  institue  par  la  presente 
loi."  The  idea  of  the  legal  right  to  relief  and  the  rather  vague  phrase  "  solidarity  " 
are  avoided  in  the  Senate  bill. 


176  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  civil  organization  which  is  required  to  administer  relief  is 
the  commune. —  If  the  person  has  no  legal  settlement  (domicile  de 
secoiirs)  in  the  commune  where  he  is  found  dependent,  then  his 
department  is  responsible.  If  he  has  no  legal  settlement  in  any 
commune  or  department,  then  the  state  is  to  give  relief.  If  he  is 
residing  away  from  his  own  commune,  he  must  be  relieved  where 
he  happens  to  be,  and  the  cost  is  recovered  from  the  administra- 
tion legally  liable.  The  time  required  for  the  acquisition  of  a 
new  settlement  is  made  five  years;  and  after  his  sixty-fifth  year 
a  citizen  cannot  lose  his  former  settlement  nor  acquire  a  new  one. 
When  children,  infirm  or  incurable,  reach  their  majority,  they 
retain  the  settlement  of  the  department  to  whose  service  they  have 
belonged,  until  they  acquire  a  new  settlement.  The  commune, 
department,  or  state  which  gives  relief  to  an  aged,  infirm,  or 
incurable  dependent  who  has  no  settlement  when  he  is  aided,  has 
right  to  be  reimbursed  for  the  sums  advanced,  within  a  limit  of 
five  years.  Relatives  who  have  means  may  be  required  to  pay  for 
relief  advanced.*    This  recourse -is  limited  to  five  years. 

The  conseil  general  in  each  department  is  required  to  organize 
the  service  of  relief  provided  for  in  the  law.  If  the  conseil  general 
refuses  or  neglects  to  perform  this  duty,  then  a  decree  in  the  form 
of  public  administration  provides  an  organization.  The  central 
government  is  given  full  power  to  see  that  local  avarice  or  ineffi- 
ciency does  not  defeat  the  purpose  of  the  law  of  the  land. 

TITLE  II.      ADMISSION   TO  RELIEF 

The  basis  of  procedure  is  the  official  list  of  the  aged,  infirm, 
and  incurable  dependents  in  the  commune.  The  bureau  of  assist- 
ance, one  month  before  the  first  ordinary  session  of  the  conseil 
municipal,  makes  a  list  of  all  persons  entitled  to  relief  under  the 
law;  it  also  proposes  the  method  of  relief  suitable  in  each  case, 
and,  if  this  method  is  to  be  relief  at  home,  the  monthly  allowance 
is  to  be  stated.  The  list  shows  whether  the  person  has  a  legal 
settlement  in  the  commune  or  elsewhere.  One  copy  of  this  list  is 
sent  to  the  municipal  council,  another  copy  to  the  prefect.  The 
list  must  be  revised  from  time  to  time,  so  that  improper  pensioners 

*  Code  civil,  Arts.  205,  206,  207,  212. 


SOCIAL  SOLIDARITY  IN  FRANCE  177 

may  be  removed.  The  municipal  council,  deliberating  as  a  com- 
mittee in  secret  session,  decides  on  the  admission  of  indigents  to 
relief,  and  determines  whether  the  person  shall  be  aided  at  home 
or  in  an  institution.  This  is  a  critical  point.  Friends  of  the  law 
insist  that  the  local  councils,  having  a  strong  interest  in  economy 
of  taxation,  will  scrutinize  the  lists  very  carefully;  and  as  neigh- 
bors they  will  understand  the  needs  of  the  poor,  especially  in 
rural  communities,  and  the  best  ways  of  giving  them  the  right 
kind  and  amount  of  relief. 

The  list  of  dependents  is  deposited  in  the  office  of  the  mayor, 
and  the  public  is  informed  by  posted  notices  of  the  place  where  it 
may  be  examined.  This  publicity  will  act  as  a  check  on  improper 
applications ;  it  will  deter  professional  mendicants,  but  it  will  also 
make  relief  painful  and  humiliating  to  "the  poor  who  are 
ashamed."  The  prefect,  being  furnished  with  a  copy  of  the  list, 
is  in  a  position  to  represent  the  views  of  the  central  authority. 
Within  a  period  of  twenty  days  rejected  applicants  can  appeal 
from  the  decision  of  the  council,  and  the  same  right  is  given  to 
any  taxpayer  who  finds  on  the  list  the  name  of  a  person  who,  in 
his  belief,  should  not  receive  public  relief.  The  prefect  also  may 
file  objections.  The  amounts  of  the  allowances  are  open  to  criti- 
cism in  the  same  way. 

A  cantonal  commission  is  provided  to  consider  all  these  objec- 
tions, and  its  president  reports  the  decisions  to  the  prefect  and 
mayor.  Within  the  following  twenty  days  appeal  may  be  made 
to  the  minister  of  the  interior,  who  receives  advice  from  a  central 
commission,  but  who,  under  the  French  system  of  executive 
responsibility,  is  not  required  to  follow  the  advice.  During  the 
litigation  the  relief  is  not  suspended. 

If  the  municipal  council  refuses  or  neglects  to  act  as  required 
by  the  law,  the  prefect  calls  the  attention  of  the  cantonal  com- 
mission to  the  matter;  and  if  the  cantonal  commission  fails  to 
perform  its  duty,  the  minister  takes  the  necessary  steps,  after 
hearing  the  central  commission.  No  part  of  the  administrative 
machinery  is  missing;  the  law  is  made  to  be  enforced. 

It  is  the  prefect  who  invites  the  municipal  councils  to  act  upon 
the  lists  in  the  communes,  the  departmental  commission  to  act 


1 78  THE  AMERICAN  JO URNAL  OP^  SOCIOLOGY 

upon  the  cases  of  those  having  settlement  in  the  departments,  and 
who  sends  to  the  minister  the  names  of  those  who,  having  no 
domicile,  are  state  charges.  The  departmental  commission 
decides  provisionally  as  to  the  relief  of  the  aged,  infirm,  and 
incurable,  although  the  conseil  general  may  reverse  their  action 
later.  The  rejected  applicant  or  the  prefect  may  take  an  appeal 
to  the  minister  of  the  interior.  All  these  provisions  for  appeal 
show  the  tendency,  evident  in  all  recent  administrative  legislation, 
to  enlarge  central  control. 

Relief  is  to  cease  when  the  reasons  which  prompted  it  have 
ceased  to  have  force ;  and  suspension  of  allowance  is  declared  by 
the  municipal  council,  the  departmental  commission,  or  by  the 
minister,  in  accordance  with  principles  already  recited. 

TITLE  III.      MODES  OF  RELIEF 

It  is  provided  that  relief  may  be  given  in  the  home  or  in  an 
asylum.  The  law  does  not  attempt  to  fix  this  matter,  but  leaves 
administrators  free  to  employ  the  method  best  suited  to  the  indi- 
vidual case.  The  plan  of  boarding  dependents  in  families  at  public 
cost  is  admissible  under  this  article.  The  two  bills  ag^ee  in  pro- 
viding that  relief  at  home  shall  be  in  the  form  of  a  monthly 
allowance ;  the  rate  to  be  fixed  by  the  municipal  council,  with  the 
approval  of  the  general  council.  The  minimum  and  maximum 
rates  are  different  in  the  proposed  laws.  The  Chamber  of 
Deputies  placed  the  minimum  at  8  francs  and  the  maximum  at 
30  francs;  in  the  Senate  bill  the  rates  proposed  are  5  and  20 
francs,  save  in  exceptional  circumstances.  At  this  point  two 
considerations  enter  to  complicate  the  problem  of  a  proper  rate: 
the  relation  of  relief  to  habits  of  thrift  and  the  factor  of  private 
charity.  The  discussions  and  the  drafts  of  law  show  that  the 
lawmakers  are  seeking,  though  thus  far  by  somewhat  different 
devices,  to  encourage  thrift,  in  the  form  of  savings-bank  deposits, 
societies  of  mutual  benefit,  etc. ;  and  also  to  leave  a  legitimate 
field  for  individual  and  associated  charity  wherever  it  is  able  and 
willing  to  carry  a  share  of  the  burden.  It  has  already  been  found 
in  the  working  of  the  law  of  obligatory  medical  relief  that  these 
objects  can  be  fostered. 


SOCIAL  SOLIDARITY  IN  FRANCE  179 

The  Chamber  of  Deputies  voted  in  favor  of  payments  exclu- 
sively in  money,  while  the  Senate  bill  favors  the  payment  of 
allowances  in  rent  or  commodities  for  consumption  in  exceptional 
cases,  as  drunkenness.  The  argument  of  M.  Bienvenu-Martin, 
leader  of  the  discussion  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  in  favor  of 
exclusively  cash  payments,  is  a  significant  indication  of  the  spirit 
of  recent  legislation  and  of  the  tendency  to  revive  expressions 
used  at  the  period  of  the  Revolution : 

The  commission  rejects  in  the  most  formal  manner  the  payment  of  relief 
in  kind  to  old  people,  and  this  for  several  reasons,  the  first  of  which  is  that 
relief  in  kind  too  strongly  reminds  us  of  "charity."  We  think  this  method 
does  not  treat  with  sufficient  respect  the  dignity  of  the  person  assisted.  We 
reject  it  also  because  it  would  give  rise  to  great  complications  and  abuses. 
How  can  we  tell  whether  the  relief  in  kind  is  an  equivalent  in  value  of  the 
money  voted?  ....  It  is  true  the  bureaux  de  bienfaisance  do  this,  but  they 
have  not  before  them  persons  who  have  a  right  to  a  definite  sum.  The  grant 
provided  by  our  law  is  of  quite  a  different  character ;  it  represents  a  real  debt 
due  to  the  person  assisted.  The  system  of  grants  in  money  is  not  novel  in 
public  relief.  At  Paris,  the  aid  given  in  lieu  of  indoor  relief  in  hospices  is 
paid  in  money,  not  in  kind.  The  temporary  aid  given  to  unmarried  mothers  is 
of  the  same  order,  and  you  know  this  works  perfectly  in  all  the  departments. 

The  commission  of  the  Senate  admits  the  force  of  the  argument, 
but  urges  that  payment  in  kind  should  be  permitted  local  authori- 
ties when  all  interests  can  be  better  served.  Local  relieving  offi- 
cers, as  experience  shows,  can  often  give  the  allowance  a  higher 
value  in  the  form  of  rent,  fuel,  and  food,  than  the  person  assisted 
can  do,  so  that  many  indigents  prefer  this  method  of  receiving 
their  allowance.  In  the  case  of  habitual  drunkards  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  furnish  relief  in  kind,  because  money  would  be  wasted 
in  drink.  It  is  also  urged  that  gratuitous  medical  assistance  is  in 
kind,  and  that  it  does  not  thereby  lose  its  quality  as  an  expression 
of  "  social  solidarity." 

The  law  protects  the  allowance  against  claims  of  creditors. 

When  a  commune  has  insufficient  asylum  facilities,  the  muni- 
cipal council  may  place  the  infirm,  incurable,  or  aged  in  private 
asylums  or  with  families  to  board.  The  general  council  designates 
the  institutions  which  may  be  used  for  this  purpose.  The  num- 
ber of  beds  is  fixed  by  the  prefect,  on  the  advice  of  the  adminis- 


l80  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

trative  commission,  and  the  price  per  day  is  regulated  in  the  same 
manner,  the  general  council  also  giving  its  opinion.  All  estab- 
lishments where  the  assisted  persons  are  kept  are  subject  to  the 
supervision  of  public  inspectors.  The  minister  of  the  interior 
designates  the  place  of  relief  for  persons  who  have  no  legal  settle- 
ment. If  the  person  assisted  by  a  community  has  a  settlement 
elsewhere,  the  amount  forwarded  is  reimbursed  by  the  place  of 
settlement 

TITLE  IV.      WAYS  AND  MEANS 

The  law  lays  the  primary  obligation  of  relief  on  the  commune 
of  residence.  The  resources  of  the  communes  are  ( i )  the  income 
of  funds  devoted  to  the  purpose  of  the  law;  (2)  contributions  of 
the  bureau  de  hienfaisance  and  of  the  hospice;  (3)  ordinary 
receipts;  (4)  subventions  of  the  department  and  of  the  state. 
In  certain  conditions  the  department  is  required  to  furnish  relief.® 
If  the  ordinary  funds  are  insufficient,  a  special  tax  may  be  author- 
ized, or  a  subsidy  may  be  paid  by  the  state.  The  state  bears  the 
cost  of  relief  of  persons  who  have  no  legal  settlement,  and  of 
general  expenses  of  administration.  The  bureaux  de  hienfaisance, 
the  hospices,  and  the  hospitals  arc  required  to  assist  with  any 
income  from  funds  intrusted  to  them  for  the  aged,  infirm,  or 
incurable.  The  communal  hospices  are  required  to  receive  with- 
out payment,  so  far  as  their  resources  extend,  all  aged,  infirm, 
and  incurable  persons  who  have  legal  settlement  in  the  same  com- 
mune. The  intercommunal  and  cantonal  asylums  arc  under  a 
similar  obligation.  The  intention  is  to  utilize  all  resources  so  as 
to  make  the  new  burden  as  light  as  possible  and  avoid  duplication 
of  agencies  and  of  expences.  The  state  is  required  to  contribute 
to  the  expenses  of  construction  or  rent  of  asylums.  Plans  for 
building  must  be  approved  in  advance  by  the  minister  of  the 
interior;  that  is  to  say,  by  the  corps  of  experts  in  the  bureau 
which  supervises  and  directs  public  assistance. 

TITLE  V.     JURISDICTION 

Disputes  in  relation  to  matters  of  settlement  are  considered 
by  the  council  of  the  prefecture  of  the  department  where  the  aged, 
infirm,  or  incurable  person  has  his  residence.     In  case  of  dis- 

*Law  of  August  lo,  1871,  Arts.  60,  61. 


SOCIAL  SOLIDARITY  IN  FRANCE  l8l 

agreement  between  the  administrative  commissions  of  asylums 
and  the  prefects,  or  between  the  bureaux  de  bienfaisance  or  asy- 
lums and  the  municipal  councils,  the  decision  is  made  by  the 
council  of  the  prefecture  of  the  department  where  the  establish- 
ment is  situated.  The  decisions  of  the  coimcil  of  the  prefecture 
are  subject  to  revision  by  the  council  of  state. 

TITLE  VI.      MISCELLANEOUS  PROVISIONS 

In  all  legislation  the  city  of  Paris  must  have  an  exceptional 
place  on  account  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  administrative  prob- 
lems of  the  metropolis.  The  adaptations  called  for  are  adjusted 
by  regulations  of  public  administration ;  it  would  be  impossible  to 
arrange  all  details  in  a  general  law.  , 

The  necessary  legal  papers  are  exempted  from  stamp  duties 
and  fees  of  registration.  Special  clauses  cover  the  cases  of 
vagrants  and  of  the  insane.  The  proposed  law  is  to  take  effect  six 
months  after  publication.  A  regulation  of  public  administration, 
made  within  three  months  after  publication,  is  to  determine  the 
measures  necessary  for  carrying  it  into  effect. 

ESTIMATES  OF  COST 

It  is  easy  to  learn  the  approximate  number  of  aged  and  incur- 
able persons  in  France.  There  are  about  1,900,000  persons  over 
seventy  years  of  age,  or  about  5  per  cent,  of  the  population.  The 
number  of  infirm  and  incurable  persons  under  seventy  years  is 
somewhat  less.  But  no  exact  statement  of  the  number  who  are 
really  indigent  can  be  made.  The  Senate  report  estimates  that 
the  number  of  aged  persons  who  will  need  relief  will  be  about 
114,000,  and  of  incurables  about  76,000,  or  190,000  in  all.  A 
basis  for  further  calculations  is  found  in  the  statistics  of  the 
bureaux  de  bienfaisance  and  of  other  forms  of  public  charity. 
The  total  expenditures  of  the  bureau  de  bienfaisance  are  now 
35,553,491  francs;  those  of  beds  of  hospices,  about  30,000,000 
francs.  The  expenditures  under  the  law  of  obligatory  medical 
relief  were  in  1899  about  8,500,000  francs  in  the  departmental 
services,  and  7,864,999.66  francs  in  the  autonomous  communes. 
Senator  Strauss  estimates  that  the  additional  expense  involved  in 
the  new  law  will  be  about  43,000,000  francs : 


1 82  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Endowments  and  special  resources 7,000,000 

Contribution   of   communes 15,250,000 

Contribution    of    departments 12,650,000 

Contribution  of  the  state 8,250,000 

Total    43,250,000 

Experience  alone  can  supply  exact  data,  and  the  policy  of 
administrators  will  affect  the  final  result.  But  the  bill  is  careful 
to  restrict  the  sum  which  can  be  expended,  so  there  will  be  no  blind 
leap  into  the  dark.  The  only  question  is  whether  the  provision 
made  will  be  adequate.  It  will  at  least  be  an  improvement  on  the 
present  methods,  and  it  will  furnish  a  foundation  for  further 
experience.  It  is  hoped  that  the  complementary  bills  relating  to 
workingmen's  insurance,  now  imder  discussion,  will  complete  a 
system  of  social  legislation,  and  place  France,  along  with  Ger- 
many, in  the  first  rank  of  nations  which  not  only  tax  all  citizens, 
and  require  of  them  in  times  of  war  their  surrender  of  life,  but 
which  offer  to  the  humblest  citizen  the  assurance  of  support  in 
the  emergencies  of  existence. 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES 

1901-4 


G.    E.    DI    PALMA    CASTIGLIONE 
New  York 


At  this  time  Italian  immigration  has  reached  the  highest 
point  yet  attained,  and  perhaps  to  be  attained  in  the  future. 

The  ItaHans,  who  until  1879  had  contributed  but  a  meager 
part  to  the  mass  of  energy  which  immigration  represents,  since 
that  year,  have  gone  on  giving  an  element  more  and  more  relevant 
to  the  general  body  of  immigration.  In  the  last  three  years  they 
have  taken  the  lead  among  the  diverse  nationalities  of  the  Old 
World  which  furnished  men  to  this,  the  younger  nation  of  the 
New  World.  This  is  shown  in  the  following  table,  which  indi- 
cates, by  decades,  the  proportion  of  the  Italian  element  to  the 
entire  immigration  into  the  United  States : 

TABLE  I 


Decades 

Total 

Yearly  Average 

Percentaee 

1821—30  

408 
2,258 
1,870 

9,231 
11,728 

5.5,759 
307.309 
655.668 
741,986 

41 

226 

167 

923 

1,173 

5,576 

30,731 

65,567 

185,496 

0.25 

0.37 
0.09 
0.17 

1811-40  

184I— SO  

1851-60  

1861—70  

0.50 
1.08 

1871-80  

1881-90  

5.85 
17.05 
27.86 

189I-I9OO  

1001-4  

182I-I904  

1,786,217 

The  increase  of  Italian  immigration  into  the  United  States, 
rather  than  depending  upon  the  general  increase  of  the  emigra- 
tion from  Italy,  is  the  effect  of  a  change  of  direction  of  the  mass 
of  Italian  immigrants,  as  is  shown  in  the  next  table,  which  gives 
the  percentage  represented  by  the  Italian  emigration  to  the 
United  States  as  compared  with  the  entire  emigration  from  Italy : 

183 


1 84  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

TABLE  II 

Year                                                                             Per  Cent. 
189I 23.46 

1892 37.00 

1893 35.25 

1894 28.34 

1895 20.56 

1896 27.28 

1897 27.01 

1898 40.74 

1899 44- 14 

1900 48.73 

1901 40. 12 

1902 61 .20 

1903 6i  .91 

1904 67.28 

As  is  clearly  seen  from  these  figures,  it  is  only  during  the  last 
few  years  that  the  Italians  represent  a  large  percentage  of  general 
immigration  into  the  United  States.  This  fact  is  accounted  for, 
in  part  if  not  entirely,  by  the  diminution  of  prosperity  in  the 
South  American  republics,  where,  because  of  the  greater  simi- 
larity of  climate,  and  race,  customs,  and  language,  the  Italians 
have  always  preferred  to  emigrate.^  For  some  time,  however,  the 
South  American  labor  markets  have  been  traversing  periods  of 
depression,  which  at  present  show  no  sig^s  of  disappearing ;  and 
consequently  they  have  had,  and  still  have,  an  immediate  and 
strong  repercussion  upon  the  human  current  which  flows  in  that 
direction.  Moreover,  the  Italian  emigration,  which  was  formerly 
subventioned  and  encouraged  by  the  Brazilian  government,  has 
been  restrained  by  the  Italian  authorities  because  of  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  legislation  in  Brazil  for  the  protection  of  the  Italian 
laborers,  who  were  unable  to  exact  the  payment  of  their  wages 
from  the  masters  of  the  haciendas,  to  the  plowing  and  cultivation 
of  which  they  devoted  their  labor.  Recently,  however,  a 
remedial  law  has  been  approved  by  the  Brazilian  parliament,  and 

*  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  in  the  Argentine  Republic  and  contiguous  states, 
and  to  a  certain  extent  in  Brazil,  the  Italians  represent  the  predominating  factor 
of  the  foreign  population,  and  in  these  countries,  especially  the  first-named,  they 
have  succeeded  in  imprinting  their  own  national  character  upon  many  of  the  social 
manifestations  of  these  communities. 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      1 85 


it  is  probable  that  in  a  short  time  the  Italian  government  will 
withdraw  its  opposition,  and  that  Brazil  will  again  take  up  the 
work  of  encouraging  Italian  immigration.  In  such  event,  the 
immigratory  current  toward  the  United  States  will  undergo  a 
certain  change,  and  necessarily  diminish.  It  may  be  foreseen, 
therefore,  that  the  succeeding  years  will  bring  into  the  United 
States  a  progressively  decreasing  number  of  Italians.  Neverthe- 
less, even  in  view  of  these  facts,  it  will  be  of  interest  to  study  in 
detail  the  present  immigration  into  the  United  States.  The  anal- 
ysis of  this  immigratory  current  will  form  a  basis  for  a  true 
conception  by  American  public  opinion  of  its  gfreater  or  less 
desirability,  and,  by  showing  its  component  parts  and  its  distribu- 
tion over  the  areas  of  the  United  States,  will  indicate  what  is 
necessary  to  be  done,  either  by  private  enterprise  or  by  the  gov- 
ernment, to  utilize  the  qualities  and  energies  which  it  brings  into 
the  country. 

For  the  sake  of  brevity,  and  also  because  it  is  only  in  recent 
years  that  Italian  immigratiori  has  assumed  important  propor- 
tions, the  four  years  1 901-4  have  been  selected  for  the  purposes 
of  this  study.  It  is  thought  that  this  limitation  will  not  be 
prejudicial  to  a  general  conception  of  the  entire  Italian  immigra- 
tion, as  in  the  preceding  years  it  was  composed  of  similar  elements. 

According  to  the  statistics  compiled  by  the  Bureau  of  Immi- 
gration, the  entire  Italian  immigration,  from  the  point  of  view  of 
its  derivation,  has  been  divided,  in  the  last  three  years,  as  follows : 

TABLE  III 


Year 

Northern  Italy 

Southern  Italy 

Total 

Per  Cent,  of 
Southern  Italians 

I90I    

1902 

1903 

1904 

22,103 
27,620 
37.429 
36,699 

115,704 

152,915 
196,117 
159.329 

137,807 
180,53s 
233.546 
196.028 

83 .23 

84.70 
83.97 
81.28 

It  is  southern  Italy,  then,  which  furnishes  the  greater  number 
of  immigrants.  The  southern  element  represents  more  than 
80  per  cent,  of  the  total.  This  fact  is  explained  by  the  geograph- 
ical position  of  Italy.     While  the  exuberance  of  the  northern 


1 86  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Italian  population  can  overflow  toward  the  north  of  Europe,  in 
Switzerland,  Germany,  and  Austria,  the  overplus  of  southern 
Italians  has  only  the  North  African  coast  and  the  Americas,  To 
Africa,  and  especially  Tripoli,  where  they  have  founded  flourish- 
ing agricultural  colonies,  the  Sicilians  from  the  southern  and 
eastern  part  of  their  island  direct  their  steps,  while  to  America, 
North  and  South,  turn  those  who  come  from  the  territory  south 
of  Tuscany,  to  the  extreme  point  of  Calabria  and  the  northern 
part  of  Sicily.  In  this  portion  of  Italy  clusters  a  closely  packed 
population  which  presents  an  average  density  to  the  square  kilo- 
meter sometimes  superior  to  the  average  density  of  the  whole  of 
Italy  (113).  This  mass  of  people,  generally  very  prolific,  has  no 
industries,  its  only  source  of  production  being  agriculture,  which 
in  these  last  decades  has  suffered  severe  crises,  one  more  violent 
than  the  other,  principally  those  which  have  affected  the  sale  of 
wine  and  oranges. 

Submerged  in  their  prolification,  impoverished  by  the  decline 
of  agriculture,  and  discouraged  by  the  unjust  distribution  of  taxes 
between  the  north  and  the  south,  to  these  people  emigration  offers 
the  only  relief,  and  they  desert  the  land  which  produces  in  abund- 
ance the  good  things  of  the  earth,  for  which  there  is  little  demand, 
and  at  first  temporarily,  but  afterward  permanently,  abandon 
their  native  country  to  establish  themselves  in  others  where  they 
find  conditions  sufficient  for  their  maintenance. 

The  emigration  from  the  southern  provinces  of  Italy  is 
destined  to  continue  until  the  general  conditions  are  changed,  or 
until  a  diminution  of  the  birth-rate  establishes  equilibrium  between 
production  and  population.  As  neither  of  these  solutions  is 
probable  before  a  period  yet  remote,  emigration  must  necessarily 
remain  a  permanent  feature  for  a  long  time  to  come,  and,  what  is 
more  important  —  a  point  which  the  reader  should  note  particu- 
larly—  it  must  assume  more  and  more  the  character  of  definitive 
emigration  to  the  countries  where  these  people  have  found  means 
to  live  and  prosper.  From  this  it  will  readily  be  seen  that  the  cry 
of  danger,  which  many  Americans  still  repeat,  is  without  founda- 
tion in  fact.  That  the  accusation,  so  readily  made  against  the 
Italians,  that  they  come  here  only  for  a  time,  and  return  to  their 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      1 87 


home  country  with  their  accumulated  gains,  has  no  substantial 
basis,  is  well  established  by  the  American  consul  at  Naples  in  his 
reports,  which  state  that,  if  the  southern  Italian  emigrant  returns 
once,  or  even  a  second  time,  to  Italy,  he  finally  gives  up  repatria- 
tion, and,  together  with  his  wife  and  family,  goes  back  to  the 
United  States  with  the  firm  idea  of  remaining  there  permanently. 
Such  conclusion  is  favored  also  by  the  consideration  of  two 
other  series  of  data,  which  indirectly  re-confirm  it :  ( i )  the  num- 
ber of  immigrants  who  have  been  in  the  United  States  before,  and 
(2)  the  number  of  those  leaving  to  return  to  Mediterranean 
ports.  The  following  table  is  an  extract  from  the  figures  gathered 
by  the  Bureau  of  Immigration : 

TABLE  IV 
Immigrants  Who  Have  Been  in  the  United  States  Before 


Year 

Northern  Italians 

Southern  Italians 

Total 

lOOI 

3,017 

3,475 
4,452 
5,163 

11,524 
11,829 
12,619 
14,870 

14,524 
15.304 
17,071 
20,033 

ig02 

iqo^ 

1 004 

Of  741,986  who  came  to  the  United  States  during  the  four 
years,  66,932  had  been  here  before.  They  had  therefore  decided 
not  to  repeat  the  experiment  of  repatriation. 

Before  giving  the  figures  collected  for  (2)  it  must  be  noted 
that  they  were  furnished  by  the  reports  of  the  conferences  of  the 
different  transportation  companies  which  serve  between  the  ports 
of  the  United  States  and  the  Mediterranean,  from  the  agents  of 
the  Compafiia  Transatlantica  of  Barcelona  and  the  Compagnie 
Transatlantique  Frangaise ;  and,  also,  that  these  data  include  not 
only  Italians,  but  all  third-class  passengers  for  Mediterranean 
ports  and  Havre.  How  many  among  these  may  be  Italians  is 
difficult  to  determine,  but,  considering  that  these  companies  touch 
not  only  at  Italian  ports,  but  also  at  French  and  Spanish,  and 
remembering  that  eastern  and  southern  Europeans  return  gener- 
ally by  way  of  Italy,  and  Belgians  by  way  of  Havre,  it  cannot  be 
far  from  the  truth,  after  deducting  15  per  cent,  from  the  com- 


i88 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


panics'  figures,  to  consider  the  balance  as  the  approximate  num- 
ber of  Italians  who  during  the  three  years  have  left  the  United 
States.  Proceeding  in  such  manner,  we  have  the  following  table, 
in  which  the  calendar  and  not  the  fiscal  year  is  used :  ^ 

TABLE  V 


Year 

Italians  Sailed  from 
the  United  States 

Italians  Arrived 

I9OI 

32,266 
48,684 
83.333 

143.071 
201,260 

1002 

1001 

235,088 

Total 

164,283 

579.419 

The  number  of  Italians,  then,  who  left  the  United  States  in 
the  three  years  represents,  as  the  largest  approximate  number,  a 
little  more  than  one-fourth  of  the  total  number  arrived  in  the 
same  period. 

Uniting  the  data  derived  from  the  last  two  tables  with  the 
general  considerations,  it  may  be  seen  that  Italian  immigration 
is  not  temporary  in  character,  but  a  permanent  contribution  to  the 
American  population.  Observation  and  knowledge  of  general 
conditions  in  those  regions  of  Italy  whence  flows  the  stream  of 
immigration  into  the  United  States,  as  well  as  into  the  other 
parts  of  the  globe  toward  which  the  Italians  direct  their  emigra- 
tion, strengthen  the  opinion  already  expressed.  It  is  certain  that 
among  the  enormous  mass  of  Italians  arrived  and  arriving  in  this 

'  From  the  official  publications  of  the  Italian  government  for  the  calendar 
years  1902  and  1903  we  have  the  following  data  in  regard  to  the  passengers  arrived 
at  the  ports  of  Naples  and  Genoa  from  the  United  States : 


1903 

1903 

7.859 
44.357 

73,663 

Arrived  at  Naples 

53,ai6 

78.333 

These  figures  include  all  passengers  landed  in  Italy,  either  Italians  or  for- 
eigners. The  totals  are  different  from  those  derived  from  the  calculation  made 
upon  the  figures  supplied  by  the  navigation  companies,  but  they  only  tend  to 
confirm  our  conclusion  in  regard  to  the  small  number  of  Italian  immigrants  in  the 
United  States  who  go  back  to  Italy. 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      1 89 

land  there  are  some  who,  temperamentally  unadapted  to  struggle 
in  new  climatic  and  social  conditions,  or  already  too  advanced  in 
life  to  take  root  in  a  new  soil,  prefer  to  finish  their  life  where  it 
began,  and  decide  to  return  to  Italy.  Apart  from  the  fact  that 
this  phenomenon  is  common  to  all  immigratory  currents,  it 
should  be  considered  a  fortunate  circumstance,  and  not  a  cause  of 
contempt  for  Italians,  since  of  all  who  come  here,  only  those 
remain  permanently  who  are  more  adapted  to  be  absorbed  in  the 
new  environment,  and  such  represent  the  very  large  majority  of 
Italian  immigrants. 

An  analysis  of  Italian  immigration  in  respect  to  sex  gives  the 
following  results: 

TABLE  VI 


Ykar 

NoKTHBRN  Italians 

SouTHRRN  Italians 

Total 

Male 

Female 

Male 

Female 

Male 

Female 

I901 

1902 

1903 

1904 

17,852 
22,425 

30,477 
28,784 

4,251 
5,195 
6,952 
7,915 

90,395 
124.536 
158.939 
122,770 

25.309 
28,379 
37.178 
36,559 

108,247 
146,961 
189,416 
155.554 

29.560 
33.574 

44.130 

44.474 

A  glance  at  these  figures  is  sufficient  to  perceive  the  large  pre- 
ponderance of  males.  To  bring  out  this  fact  more  clearly,  a  table 
showing  the  percentage  of  females  in  the  total  number  of  immi- 
grants coming  from  the  north  and  south  is  here  appended : 


TABLE  VII 


Year 

North 

South 

Total 

I901 

1902 

1903 

1904 

19.23 
18.20 

18.57 
21.56 

21.87 
18.5s 
18.95 
23.00 

21.44 

18.59 
18.03 
22.68 

Among  immigrants  from  the  north  as  well  as  among  those 
from  the  south  we  find  the  males  in  the  same  large  proportion, 
which  proves  the  strength  of  the  Italian  immigration,  in  that  it 
consists  almost  entirely  of  individuals  who  must  work  for  their 
living,  and  not  of  women,  who,  to  a  certain  extent,  must  depend 


1 90 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


upon  others.  This  is  explained  by  the  work  they  are  called  to 
perform  —  a  kind  of  work  where  the  presence  of  women  would  be 
a  hindrance  and  not  an  aid.  The  Italian  women  belonging  to  this 
class,  should  they  come  in  large  numbers,  would  be  unable  to  find 
work,  and  would  be  obliged  to  depend  upon  the  men,  who, 
employed  as  day  laborers  and  paid  small  wages,  would  find  it 
difficult  to  maintain  families,  which  in  America  requires  large 
means. 

The  vigor  of  Italian  immigration  is  further  demonstrated  by 
the  abundance  of  individuals  between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and 
forty-five.    The  figures  are  given  in  the  table  below : 

TABLE  VIII 


Northern  Italians 

SotrrHBRN  Italians 

Total 

Years 

Under  14 
Years 

45  Years 
and  Over 

Under  14 
Years 

45  Years 
and  Over 

Under  14 
Years 

45  Years 
and  Over 

1901 

1902 

1903 

1904 

1,830 
2,215 
3.404 
3,633 

1,117 
1,376 
1,419 

1,537 

14.794 
16,954 
21,619 
20,895 

9,593 
12,216 

9,837 
9.443 

17,624 
19,169 
25,023 
24,528 

10,710 
13,692 
11,256 
10,980 

Percentage 

1901 

1902 

1903 

1904 

8.22 

8.01 

9.09 
9.89 

5.05 
4.98 
3-79 
4.18 

13.64 
11.08 
11.02 

I3-" 

8.29 
7.98 
5.00 
5-92 

12.79 
10.61 
10.71 
12.51 

7.71 
7.52 
4.00 
5.60 

Referring  to  the  above  tables,  it  can  be  seen  that  the  number 
of  boys  and  old  men  does  not  surpass  20  per  cent,  of  the  entire 
immigration,  except  in  the  year  1901,  and  then  but  slightly.  The 
great  majority,  then,  is  composed  not  only  of  individuals  who  can 
procure  directly  the  means  of  subsistence,  but  of  young  men  who 
are  physically  capable  of  working  immediately  upon  landing. 

The  physical  integrity  of  Italian  immigration  is  also  shown  by 
the  negligible  number  refused  access  to  the  United  States  by  the 
immigration  authorities  at  the  ports.  The  small  number  deported, 
besides  proving  the  florid  health  of  the  Italian  immigrants,  shows 
also  the  infinitely  few  excluded  for  political,  economical,  or  moral 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      19I 


reasons.     The  figures  below  demonstrate  the  exactness  of  these 
observations : 

TABLE  IX 

Number  of  Debarked 


Cause  of  Rejection 

1901 

X903 

1903 

1904 

North 

South 

Total 

North 

South 

Total 

North 

South 

Toul 

North 

South 

Total 

Idiots 

Insane 

51 
10 

67 

2 

4 
1292 

30 

2 

125 

2 

4 

1343 

40 

2 

192 

51 
II 

5 

2049 

7 

100 

5 
2100 

7 
III 

160 
9 
3 

71 

8 

2164 

147 

46. 

I 
447 

8 

2324 
156 

49 

I 
518 

I 

I 

141 

35 

83 

3 

8 

1396 

235 

25 

425 

4 

9 

1537 

270 

25 

508 

Paupers 

Dangerously  ill. . 

Convicts 

Prostitutes 

Contract  laborers 

Total 

128 

1455 

1583 

78 

2235 

2313 

243 

2813 

3056 

261 

2092 

2353 

To  bring  out  more  clearly  the  extremely  small  number  refused 
access,  the  percentage  of  the  total  number  of  immigrants  is  here 
given : 

TABLE  X 

Percentage  of  the  Debarred  in  Total  Italian  Immigration 


Year 

Northern 
Italians 

Southern 
Italians 

Total 

I90I 

1902 

1903 

1904 

0.57 
0.28 
0.60 
0.71 

1.25 
1.36 
1.43 

I-3I 

1. 14 
1.28 
1.30 

1.20 

As  is  shown,  the  number  of  deported  does  not  exceed  1.3  per 
cent,  of  the  total  number  of  immigrants.  This  is  the  result  of 
severe  legislative  action  in  Italy,  which  forbids  emigration  to  all 
persons  comprised  in  the  categories  excluded  by  the  American 
laws.  The  Italian  government  has  established  special  offices  at 
every  port  of  departure  to  enforce  the  laws  of  emigration. 
Another  safeguard  is  the  inspection  by  the  salaried  physicians 
attached  to  the  American  consulates  in  Italy.  These  physicians, 
with  the  acquiescence  of  the  Italian  authorities,  and  furnished 
with  the  permission  of  the  navigation  companies,  inspect  one  by 
one  all  the  departing  emigrants,  and  prevent  those  from  leaving 


192 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


who,  according  to  their  opinion,  would  not  be  allowed  to  land  in 
America.  Thus  it  is  seen  that,  by  the  Italian  government's  work, 
all  elements  which  could  menace  law  and  order  in  the  United 
States  are  removed  from  the  emigratory  stream,  while  the  con- 
sular physicians  see  to  it  that  it  is  freed  from  those  individuals 
who  might  imperil  the  public  health.  The  insignificant  number 
refused  access  by  the  United  States  authorities  is  composed  of  the 
few  who  at  times  succeed,  owing  to  the  enormous  number  embark- 
ing, in  eluding  the  vigilance  of  the  Italian  authorities  and  the 
inspection  of  the  consular  physicians. 

The  preceding  data  therefore  authorize  the  statement  that  the 
Italian  immigration  into  the  United  States  is  vigorous  and  desir- 
able from  the  physical  point  of  view,  and  pure  and  healthy  from 
the  moral  point  of  view. 

The  question  of  education  now  presents  itself.  Analytical 
investigation  of  the  Italian  immigration  from  this  point  of  view 
gives  the  following  results : 


TABLE  XI 


Year 

Illiterates  over  Fourteek  Years 

Percentage 

OF  Illiterates  in  Total 
Immigration 

Northern 
Italians 

Southern 
Italians 

Total 

Northern 

Southern 

Total 

I901 

1992 

1903 

X904 

3.122 
3.556 
4,283 
4,150 

58,493 
76,529 
84.512 
74,889 

61,615 
80,085 
88.795 
75.039 

14.12 
12.87 
11-45 
II. 31 

50.55 
50.00 

43.09 
47.00 

45-44 
44-35 
38.01 
40.32 

The  progressive  improvement  in  regard  to  primary  instruc- 
tion is  evident.  The  year  1901  shows  a  proportion  of  over  45  per 
cent,  of  illiteracy;  the  year  1904,  about  40  per  cent.  Neverthe- 
less, illiteracy  remains  a  characteristic  disadvantage  of  the  Italian 
immigrants,  especially  those  from  southern  Italy.  The  difference 
of  intellectual  conditions  between  the  north  and  south  of  Italy 
is  the  result  of  long  years  of  misgovernment  and  neglect  in  the 
provinces  of  southern  Italy.  Although  in  these  provinces,  as  well 
as  in  the  whole  of  Italy,  the  law  of  compulsory  elementary  educa- 
tion is  now  in  force,  yet  complex  circumstances,  among  which 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      1 93 

may  be  named  low  financial  conditions  and  lack  of  administration 
in  the  communes,  have  hindered  the  southern  populations  from 
enjoying  the  fruit  of  legislative  action  in  the  same  proportion  as 
the  northern  populations  have  been  able  to  do.  Healthier  eco- 
nomic conditions,  the  communes  administered  by  more  modem 
classes  than  the  governing  officials  in  the  south,  have,  in  a  little 
more  than  forty  years  of  national  life,  almost  obliterated  the 
plague  spot  of  illiteracy  in  the  northern  parts  of  Italy.  Illiteracy 
must  diminish,  as  in  fact  it  has  always  diminished,  among  the 
immigrants ;  but  it  remains  in  relatively  large  proportion  because 
improvement  in  this  respect  is  necessarily  slow.  The  question 
arises  then :  Is  the  illiteracy  of  the  Italian  immigrants  a  menace 
to  those  countries  —  especially  the  United  States  —  to  which  they 
betake  themselves? 

Many  writers  upon  immigration  have  given  this  question  first 
place  when  speaking  of  the  greater  or  less  desirability  of  the  same, 
but  a  closer  view  of  the  subject  cannot  but  disclose  the  exaggera- 
tion of  those  who  maintain  that  a  heavy  percentage  of  illiteracy 
is  a  grave  peril  for  the  United  States.  In  the  first  place,  illiteracy 
is  not  a  new  fact,  nor  can  it  be  affirmed  to  be  a  characteristic  of 
Italian  immigration  alone,  because  we  ignore  the  number  of  illit- 
erates in  the  great  immigratory  currents  which  in  the  past  fifty 
years  have  inundated  this  country.  Only  during  the  last  few 
years  has  it  become  a  feature  of  immigration  statistics  to  take  note 
of  illiteracy.  Given  the  relative  recency  of  the  acceptance  of  the 
principle  of  compulsory  popular  education  in  European  states, 
and  keeping  in  mind  the  origin  of  the  Irish  and  German  immi- 
grants (who  formed  the  bulk  of  the  immigration  into  the  United 
States  in  the  past),  coming,  as  they  did,  from  the  least  developed 
regions  of  their  respective  countries,  it  is  not  difficult  to  believe 
that  the  proportion  of  illiterates  was,  if  not  equal,  at  least  little 
inferior,  to  that  which  the  Italian  immigration  actually  presents. 
As  is  well  known,  the  Irish  and  Germans  become  elements  of 
force  and  prosperity  in  the  new  country  in  which  they  settled. 
What,  then,  are  the  criteria  for  judging  the  desirability  of  immi- 
grants ?    First,  the  possibility  of  utilizing  the  qualities  of  the  new- 


194  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

comers,  and,  second,  the  facility  of  absorption,  with  the  loss  of 
the  distinctive  character  of  their  national  origin. 

When  the  Italian  may  be  utilized  in  the  development  of  the 
country's  mines,  the  culture  of  its  lands,  and  the  embellishment 
of  its  cities,  his  grammatical  attainments  in  his  own  language 
may  well  be  a  negligible  quantity.  A  country  in  its  period  of 
development  has  need  of  brawn  as  well  as  brain,  and  the  vigor  of 
the  Italian  as  a  laborer  cannot  be  placed  in  doubt ;  and,  therefore, 
considered  in  the  light  of  the  first  criterion  for  judgment,  the 
Italian  immigration  cannot  be  held  to  be  undesirable. 

In  regard  to  the  facility  of  absorption,  illiteracy  should  be  an 
advantage  in  the  work  of  Americanizing  newcomers.  The  indi- 
vidual who  cannot  read  brings  fewer  impressions  and  ideas  from 
his  native  country  than  one  who  has  been  able  through  education 
to  observe  the  movements  in  which  he  was  born  and  bred.  The 
illiterate  man,  in  some  respects,  and  especially  if  he  comes  from 
the  rural  regions,  is  more  like  a  child.  While  deficient  in  past 
impressions,  he  has  an  intellectual  freshness  and  curiosity.  His 
adaptability  to  a  new  environment,  therefore,  will  be  accomplished 
more  rapidly  and  with  greater  ease,  like  that  of  a  child's.  More- 
over, instruction  does  not  necessarily  include  the  idea  of  intelli- 
gence, and  when  the  observations  made  upon  the  physical  force 
and  vigor  of  the  Italians  are  joined  to  those  made  upon  their 
intellectual  brightness  (Italians  of  southern  Italy  are  noted  for 
their  quickness  of  perception  and  other  strong  mental  qualities), 
one  is  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  percentage  of  illiteracy 
among  the  Italians  cannot  constitute  a  peril  for  the  United  States, 
and,  further,  that  this  defect  may  even  become  an  aid  to  the  work 
of  assimilation. 

Instead  of  meditating  exclusion  for  the  illiterate  immigrant, 
it  would  be  much  more  logical  and  just  to  add  to  the  conditions 
demanded  for  obtaining  citizenship  the  obligation,  not  only  of 
stammering  a  few  English  words,  but  of  speaking  and  writing 
English.  In  such  manner  the  intellectual  youth  of  the  illiterate 
immigrant  would  come  to  be  exploited  effectively  for  the  advance- 
ment of  his  Americz^nization.  Apart  from  this,  however,  it  is  use- 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      195 

ful  to  note  that  the  illiteracy  existing  among  the  immigrants  is 
reduced  only  in  small  proportion  among  their  children.  The  cen- 
sus of  I9(X)  establishes  this  fact.  On  the  other  hand,  the  same 
census  shows  that  the  children  of  new  immigrants  manifest 
greater  diligence  in  study,  and  greater  profit  from  it,  than  do  the 
children  of  parents  born  in  America.  Seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the 
first-mentioned  class,  and  65  per  cent,  of  the  second,  frequented 
the  schools.  Of  30,404,762  persons  of  ten  years  and  over,  born  of 
American  parents,  1,737,803,  or  5.7  per  cent.,  were  illiterates; 
while  of  10,958,803  persons  bom  of  foreign  parents,  only  179,- 
384,  or  1 :  67  per  cent.,  were  in  the  same  condition.  It  is  necessary 
only  to  cite,  in  regard  to  Italian  immigration,  the  deductions 
made  by  Mr.  R.  P.  Falkner  with  respect  to  all  immigration  from 
southern  Italy :  "  From  the  foregoing  analysis  it  should,  I  think, 
be  clear  that  the  evidence  of  a  declining  average  of  intelligence 
and  capacity,  which  has  been  alleged  to  characterize  recent  immi- 
gration, is  just  as  inconclusive  as  that  brought  forward  to  show 
an  increasing  volume." 

The  usefulness  of  a  body  of  immigration,  as  has  been  pointed 
out  before,  can  be  judged  only  by  the  mass  of  capacities  it  brings 
into  countries,  and  the  relation  of  the  same  to  the  work  demanded 
by  the  country's  needs.  As  an  immigration  of  learned  people  into 
an  undeveloped  country  could  be  a  detriment  rather  than  an 
advantage  to  its  interests,  so  an  immigration  of  laborers  into  a 
country  already  well  provided  in  that  respect  might  be  held  to  be 
perilous  for  its  economic  and  social  order. 

Taking  up  this  part  of  the  subject,  it  is  necessary  to  ascertain 
what  kind  of  work  the  Italians  know  how  to  do,  and  what  produc- 
tive capacities  they  possess;  and  from  this  can  be  seen  in  what 
numbers  they  may  be  utilized  in  the  United  States. 

The  following  table  shows  the  three  larger  categories  of 
Italian  immigration  constituted  of  farmers,  farm  laborers,  and 
laborers : 


196  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

TABLE  XII 


1 901 

1903 

North 

South 

Total 

North 

South 

Total 

Fanners  

23 
3" 

8,735 

7 
26,566 
43.210 

30 
29,877 
51.945 

9 

6,455 

10,143 

140 
39,128 
38,396 

149 
45,583 
68,539 

Fann  laborers 

Laborers 

Total 

12,069 

69,783 

81,852 

16,607 

97,664 

114,271 

1903 

1904 

North 

South 

Total 

North 

■  South 

Total 

Farmers 

200 

6,462 

15,622 

678 
32,391 
85,682 

878 

38,853 
101,304 

260 
5.154 

i3.';26 

269 

42,471 
42,502 

529 
47,625 
56,028 

Farm  laborers 

Laborers 

Total 

22,284 

118,751 

141,035 

19,940 

85.242 

104,102 

All  of  this  part  of  the  immigration  originates  in  the  rural 
districts  of  Italy;  even  those  classified  by  the  Bureau  of  Immi- 
gration as  laborers  are  in  fact  peasants.  The  enormous  majority 
comes  from  the  south,  and,  as  is  shown  by  the  statistics  published 
by  the  Italian  government,  the  urban  population  in  general,  and 
that  of  the  south  in  particular,  does  not  emigrate  except  in  very 
small  proportion.  It  is  misleading  to  consider  the  laborers  as 
distinct  from  the  farm  laborers ;  actually  they  form  but  one  class, 
and,  with  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  represent  the  total  agricultural 
element.  They  constitute  more  than  one-half  of  the  entire  immi- 
gration, and,  as  the  gross  figures  do  not  bring  out  clearly  the 
characteristic  note  of  the  observation,  it  can  be  seen  by  the  per- 
centage table  below : 

TABLE  XIII 
Percentage  of  the  Agricultural  Elements  in  Total  Italian  Immigration 


Year 

Northern 
Italians 

Southern 
Italians 

Total 

1901 

1902 

1903 

1904 

54.60 
60.12 
61.14 
51.60 

60.21 
63.86 
60.55 
53.50 

59.39 
63.29 
60.38 
53.14 

ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      197 


In  the  three  years  under  consideration  —  except  the  first  —  the 
urban  population,  made  up  of  skilled  workmen  and  professionals, 
represents  less  than  40  per  cent. ;  the  remainder  consists  of  farm 
laborers  more  or  less  skilled  in  the  art  of  agriculture.  Thus  it  is 
readily  seen  that  the  Italians  in  large  majority  should  find  their 
way  to  the  fields  of  agriculture,  the  ground  adapted  to  the  develop- 
ment of  their  activites.  There  they  would  find  the  greatest  advan- 
tage with  the  least  proportionate  sacrifice,  and  at  the  same  time 
would  be  able  to  contribute  most  effectively  to  the  increasing 
productivity  and  wealth  of  the  United  States. 

Before  observing  the  actual  direction  taken  by  the  Italians 
once  disembarked,  it  is  well  to  note  what  capital,  in  addition  to 
their  personnel,  they  bring  with  them.  This  investigation  gives 
the  following  results: 

TABLE  XIV 


Year 

Amount  of  Money 

Shown  by  the 
Italian  Immigrants 

Average  per  Capita 

lOOI 

51,523,284 
3,018,641 
2,123,625 
3,100,664 

512.67 
14.47 
13.09 
20.00 

IQ02 

1001 

IQ04 

The  figures  reported  show  a  progressive  improvement  in  the 
amount  of  money  brought  by  the  Italians.  These  figures,  it  must 
be  observed,  cannot  be  considered  exact,  because  the  Italian  peas- 
ant in  general,  and  the  southern  Italian  in  particular,  is  diffident 
toward  strangers  and  obstinate  in  refusing  to  make  known  his 
personal  affairs,  and  still  more  so  when  it  is  a  question  of  money 
in  his  possession.  It  can  well  be  imagined,  then,  that  a  large 
number  of  immigrants  have  kept  hidden  the  exact  amount  of 
money  they  possessed ;  so  much  the  more  so  owing  to  the  wide- 
spread opinion  among  them  that  $10  is  a  sufficient  sum  to  own 
up  to  at  the  port  in  order  to  obtain  admittance  into  the  country. 

Allowing  for  this,  however,  it  is  but  just  to  say  that  the  Italian 
immigration  is  composed  principally  of  poor  people  in  the  strictest 
sense  of  the  word  —  people  who  have  not  enough  money  to  pay 
transportation  expenses  from  the  ports  of  disembarkation,  and 
who  must  find  work  immediately  upon  disembarking. 


198 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


Having  examined  in  detail  the  ethnic  and  demographic  com- 
position of  the  Italian  immigration,  and  having  seen  the  condi- 
tions, physical,  economic,  social,  and  financial,  which  it  presents, 
it  remains  to  study  the  direction  taken  by  the  immigrants  toward 
the  different  parts  of  the  country.  The  figures  below  indicate  the 
percentage  of  Italian  immigrants  who  have  directed  their  steps 
toward  the  different  geographic  divisions  of  the  United  States, 
according  to  the  origin  of  the  immigrants,  during  the  four  years 
under  consideration : 

TABLE  XV 


NoirrHKRh 

Italians 

Southern  Italians 

Total 

190X 

1903 

1903 

1904 

1901 

1903 

1903 

1904 

190X 

1903 

1903 

i8&. 

North  Allan.  Div. 

61 

28 

SQ 

S6 

88 

86 

86 

8S 

83 

82 

82 

80 

North  Centr.  Div. 

16 

18 

18 

17 

6 

8 

8 

8 

7 

9 

10 

10 

South  Atlan.  Div. 

I 

I 

I 

2 

I 

I 

2 

^ 

2 

I 

2 

2 

South  Centr.  Div. 

2 

2 

2 

.3 

3 

^ 

3 

3 

^ 

,1 

2 

.3 

Western  Division 

20 

21 

20 

20 

2 

2 

I 

I 

5 

5 

4 

5 

100 

100 

100 

100 

100 

100 

100 

100 

100 

100 

100 

100 

The  percentages  are  referred  to  as  approximative,  exact  fig- 
ures not  being  necessary  to  show  the  objective  points. 

By  these  data  it  is  seen  that  the  northern  states  of  the  Union 
absorb  more  than  90  per  cent,  of  the  Italian  immigration,  less  a 
small  fraction  from  the  north  of  Italy,  which  goes  to  the  western 
states.  The  great  majority  of  the  Italians  remain  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  ports  of  disembarkation ;  and  even  those  who  travel  west, 
instead  of  dispersing  in  the  eleven  states  and  territories  which 
form  that  division,  concentrate  mostly  in  California,  which  fact  is 
set  forth  in  the  following  figures : 

TABLE  XVI 

Percentage  of  Northern  Italians  Directed  to  California  of  All 
Northern  Italians  West-Bound 


1901. 
1902. 
1903. 
1904. 


.63.14 
•64.9s 
.70.76 
.72.61 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      1 99 


Neglecting  to  consider  this  tendency  of  a  part  of  the  northern 
Italian  immigrants  to  concentrate  in  California,  precisely  the  most 
populous  point  of  the  Western  Division,  it  is  well  to  return  to  the 
principal  deductions  to  be  made  from  Table  XV ;  i.  e.,  the 
enormous  prevalence  of  Italians  in  the  states  of  the  North  Atlantic 
and  North  Central  Divisions.  The  figures  below  set  forth  that  in 
these  divisions  the  great  majority  of  the  Italians  are  concentrated 
in  a  few  states : 

TABLE  XVII 

North  Atlantic  Division 


New  York.... 
Pennsylvania 
New  Jersey. .. 
Massachusetts 
Connecticut  . . 

Illinois 

Michigan  . . . . 
Ohio   


50-44 

30.87 

S.oo 

8.64 

3» 


46.17 
30.15 
6.84 
9-43 
6.13 


1903      1904      190X 


42.91  44.38  6o.s7 

33.87  31.96  20.58 

5.22  5.17  S.79 

10.13  10.46  7.25 

5.63  6.46  3.67 


60.68 
24.79 

3-47 
9.00 
3.38 


S3.8» 
25.31 
5.91 
7.41 
3-34 


56.1 » 
23.29 
7.76 
8.03 
3-47 


59.37 
21.78 
5.70 
7.41 
3-34 


59.10 

21.37 

5.70 

7.41 

3-34 


53.09 
26.30 
5.83 
8.32 
3.95 


5,445 

».350 

744 

861 

386 


North  Central  Division 


39.53 

47-56 

47-75 

43.20 

50.16 

45.99 

41.61 

39-89 

42.69 

46.48 

43-41 

25.62 

21.14 

18.25 

12.51 

8.33 

7.16 

9-85 

7.26 

14.36 

11.50 

12.27 

6.0s 

7-49 

7-57 

9.93 

36.74 

34-50 

33.67 

35-47 

»9-52 

26.11 

36' 06 

4i099 

895 

2,646 


The  data  are  wanting  for  showing  what  centers  of  population 
in  the  states  considered  become  the  final  destination  of  the  immi- 
grants, or  in  what  proportions  they  are  scattered  in  the  different 
parts  of  these  states.  It  can  be  assumed,  however,  that  the  mass 
of  Italians  cannot  spread  in  the  farming  lands,  since  these  farms 
are  already  occupied,  and  it  may  be  affirmed  that  the  immigrants 
go  to  augment  the  population  of  the  cities,  and  principally  the 
large  cities.  This  idea  is  favored  by  common  observation,  by  the 
census  of  1900,  and  by  the  conclusions  of  Dr.  Tosti  in  his  study 
of  the  Italian  population  of  New  York  state.  According  to  the 
census  of  1900,  62.4  per  cent,  of  the  Italians  established  in  the 
United  States  were  settled  in  centers  whose  population  was 
greater  than  25,000.  According  to  Dr.  Tosti,  who  secured  data 
up  to  December,  1903,  of  486,175  Italians  resident  in  New  York 
state,  382,775,  or  78.7  per  cent.,  were  established  in  New  York 
city. 

The  conclusion,  then,  from  the  figures  reported  is  that  more 


200  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

than  8a  per  cent,  of  the  Italians  settle  in  the  states  of  the  northern 
divisions,  and  that  from  75  per  cent,  to  85  per  cent,  of  these 
concentrate  in  the  large  cities.  Remembering  now  the  arts  and 
trades  of  the  Italians,  as  established  by  the  data  given  previously, 
it  is  seen  that,  while  more  than  60  per  cent,  of  them  are  peasants 
and  farmers,  instead  of  going  to  the  agricultural  districts,  they 
come  to  increase  the  urban  populations  of  the  United  States. 

The  concentration  of  the  Italians  in  the  large  cities  is  as  detri- 
mental to  themselves  as  it  is  to  the  United  States.  The  peasant 
who  establishes  himself  in  a  large  American  city  cannot  be  any- 
thing but  a  laborer ;  all  of  his  technical  qualities  are  lost  both  to 
himself  and  to  the  country  which  harbors  him.  The  Italian  peas- 
ant, who  has  had  centuries  of  experience  in  tilling  the  land,  who 
understands  all  kinds  of  cultivation,  who  is  not  only  expert  in 
viniculture,  but  also  in  the  culture  of  all  the  vegetables  and  fruits 
of  his  new  country,  is  giving  but  the  minimum  part  of  his  pro- 
ductive habits,  i.  e.,  his  physical  force. 

The  evils  of  concentration  do  not  consist  only  in  this  disper- 
sion of  energy,  or  rather  this  mistaken  employment  of  forces ;  they 
are  not  only  economic  evils,  but  they  extend  also  to  the  moral 
and  political  fields.  In  fact,  the  Italian  immigrant  as  a  laborer, 
alternating  only  between  stone-breaking  and  ditching,  remains 
an  alien  to  the  country.  The  immigrant,  to  whatever  nationality 
he  may  belong,  does  not  feel  himself  a  part  of  the  collectivity  as 
long  as  no  ties,  first  economic,  then  moral,  are  formed  to  attach 
him  to  the  new  soil.  The  laborer  cannot  form  these  ties  while 
he  remains  a  machine,  pure  and  simple,  furnishing  only  brute 
force,  and  no  special  interest  can  be  felt  in  the  work  he  accom- 
plishes. Thus  the  Italian  immigrant,  thrust  into  the  large  cities, 
surrounded  and  outclassed  by  those  who  do  not  understand  him 
and  whom  he  does  not  understand,  shuts  himself  in  with  his 
fellow-countrymen  and  remains  indiflferent  to  all  that  happens 
outside  of  the  quarters  inhabitated  by  them.  Although  renoun- 
cing the  idea  of  repatriation,  because  he  knows  the  economic 
conditions  in  his  own  country  forbid,  and  becoming  an  American 
citizen,  he  remains  always  a  stranger  to  the  new  country. 

The  crowding  into  the  large  American  cities  brings  other 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      201 

harmful  effects.  The  cost  of  living  in  the  northern  states,  and 
especially  in  the  large  centers,  is  very  high,  while  the  wages,  on 
account  of  the  greater  competition,  are  relatively  low.  This  lack 
of  equilibrium  imposes  upon  the  Italian  large  material  sacrifices 
which  deplete  him  physically  and  lower  him  socially.  The  high 
rents  force  him  to  live  in  the  worst  quarters  and  in  restricted 
space.  In  the  Italian  quarters  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia 
can  be  seen  the  alleged  lodging-houses,  with  seven  or  eight  or 
even  ten  persons  occupying  one  bedroom.  Families  of  seven  or 
more  members  crowd  into  houses  containing  only  two  rooms,  one 
of  which  is  the  kitchen.  This  mode  of  existence,  apart  from  the 
fact  that  it  is  fruitful  in  the  development  and  extension  of  infec- 
tious diseases,  renders  the  people  vile  in  their  personal  habits, 
and,  as  has  been  alluded  to  before,  makes  them  appear  repulsive 
to  the  Americans.  If  these  material  conditions  influence  the 
Italians  to  feel  no  sincere  or  profound  attachment  to  the  adopted 
country,  on  the  other  hand  they  influence  the  native  American 
to  disdain  the  newcomers,  thus  causing  a  reciprocal  psychologic 
state  of  mind  which  is  a  powerful  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
assimilation. 

But  the  influence  of  this  agglomeration  of  the  Italians  goes 
still  farther,  for,  besides  the  evils  already  spoken  of,  it  furnishes 
an  effective  stimulus  for  the  development  and  deei)ening  of  moral 
corruption.  Among  Italian  immigrants,  as  among  all  others, 
there  are  certain  elements  which  belong  to  no  class,  having  lived 
the  life  of  all,  with  no  trade  or  capacity  for  honest  work  of  any 
kind.  Such  people  have  no  moral  curb  or  scruple,  and  prey  upon 
the  others.  They  find  in  the  swarming  Italian  quarters  of  the  large 
American  cities  fruitful  fields  in  which  to  exercise  their  baneful 
powers  for  the  despoliation  of  their  countrymen,  who,  ignorant 
and  ingenuous,  become  their  ready  victims.  In  the  guise  of 
agents,  solicitors,  or  journalists,  they  extort  money.  As  found- 
ers of  gambling  dens  and  houses  of  ill-fame,  they  organize 
schemes  of  blackmail  and  other  crimes.  It  is  among  these  people 
that  the  ward  politicians  find  their  agents.  The  existence  of 
people  like  these  depends  upon  the  crowded  conditions  referred 
to.     The  number  of  such  individuals  is  not  large,  but  they  are 


202  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

indefatigable  propagators  of  corruption  among  the  immigrants. 

Thus  are  conditions  formed  which,  while  placing  obstacles  in 
the  way  of  reciprocal  advantage,  ruin  the  Italian  immigrant 
morally,  materially,  and  physically. 

It  is  not  the  large  number  of  Italian  immigrants  which  con- 
stitutes a  peril  for  the  United  States.  The  immigrants  are  young, 
honest,  strong,  and  overflowing  with  energy ;  they  possess  poten- 
tially all  the  factors  to  represent  an  increase  of  development  of 
the  American  people.  The  real  danger  is  their  concentration  in 
the  large  cities,  their  defective  distribution  in  the  territory  of  the 
republic,  which  renders  impossible  their  proper  utilization,  and 
forms  an  ever-increasing  plethora  of  labor  in  the  more  populous 
states,  while  at  other  points  there  is  a  large  and  unsatisfied  need 
of  laboring-men. 

The  problem  is  not,  as  some  are  inclined  to  think,  to  find 
means  for  limiting  or  stopping  the  immigratory  current,  but  to 
avoid  the  evils  of  concentration,  and  to  find  a  way  effectually  to 
distribute  the  mass  of  immigration. 

What  causes  provoke  the  concentration  of  Italians  in  the  large 
cities?  Why  is  it  that  these  peasants  prefer  to  live  in  crowded 
centers,  rather  than  to  scatter  over  the  country,  where  they  would 
be  able  to  continue  the  art  of  agriculture  and  find  the  most  appro- 
priate outlet  for  their  energies?  Looking  for  the  causes  of  this 
phenomenon  will  aid  powerfully  to  solve  the  problem,  and  a 
brief  survey  of  present  and  former  conditions  reveals  the  two 
principal  causes :  (a)  the  poverty  of  the  Italian  immigrants ; 
(h)  their  previous  mode  of  existence. 

As  has  been  demonstrated,  the  average  amount  of  capital  of 
the  newcomer  is  a  sum  which,  at  the  most,  enables  him  to  live 
without  work  ten  or  twelve  days.  If  work  be  not  found  in  that 
limited  period,  he  must  turn  for  help  to  his  countrymen  or  to 
public  charity.  He  has  no  time  —  aside  from  all  other  difficulties 
encountered,  such  as  ignorance  of  the  language,  difference  in  all 
the  conditions  of  life,  etc.,  etc. —  to  study  the  advantage  or  dis- 
advantage of  points  in  the  United  States  where  he  might  be  able 
to  develop  his  activities.  Even  if  he  knew  before  landing  that  the 
South  or  West  was  adapted  to  his  needs,  his  lack  of  funds  would 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      203 

prevent  his  using  that  knowledge.  Furthermore,  the  same  lack 
of  money  forbids  him  to  choose  work  in  the  fields,  for,  although 
better  paid,  it  depends  upon  circumstances,  which  he  has  neither 
time  nor  money  to  command,  and  the  fact  that  the  land  can  be 
bought  at  a  low  price  must  be  neglected,  while  he  is  glad  to  secure 
any  kind  of  work  which  will  provide  for  his  present  needs. 

In  addition  to  the  economic  causes,  there  is  another,  far  more 
complex,  because  derived  from  habits  of  life  which  have  obtained 
for  centuries.  The  population  of  southern  Italy  is  composed  in 
great  part  of  peasant  farm  laborers  massed  in  large  boroughs, 
which  might  be  called  cities,  not  for  the  perfection  and  complexity 
of  their  municipal  and  social  life,  but  for  their  number  of  inhabit- 
ants. In  order  to  live  in  these  crowded  haunts  and  mix  with 
their  fellows,  the  peasants  walk  morning  and  night  several  miles 
to  and  from  the  fields.  They  leave  their  homes  long  before  dawn 
and  return  after  sunset.  This  custom  arose  in  feudal  days,  when 
the  organization  for  public  safety  was  deficient,  and  existed  in 
those  communities  until  the  foundation  of  Italian  unity,  thus 
forming  tendencies  and  psychological  conditions  in  the  peasant 
peculiar  to  him. 

A  study  of  the  character  of  the  southern  Italians  shows  that 
they  cannot  live  isolated;  the  conditions  indicated  above  have 
formed  in  them  the  necessity  of  living  in  homogeneous  groups, 
to  reunite  with  their  own  kind.  At  the  same  time,  they  have 
acquired  great  diffidence  toward  the  outside  world  of  all  who  do 
not  belong  to  the  nucleus  in  which  they  were  bom  and  bred.  Such 
tendencies,  however,  with  the  conditions  which  created  them, 
are  slowly  passing  away,  but  are  yet  strong  enough  to  influence 
the  deliberations  of  the  individual,  and  especially  in  his  choice  of 
a  mode  of  life. 

This  fear  of  isolation  and  this  distrust  of  strangers  become 
stronger  and  deepyer  in  a  new,  strange  country,  and  the  peasant, 
although  provided  with  money  enough  to  buy  and  stock  a  small 
farm,  finds  in  his  own  social  needs  a  powerful  obstacle  to  the 
realization  of  such  a  plan;  but,  joined  with  a  sufficient  number 
of  his  own  countrymen  in  similar  financial  conditions,  he  does  not 
hesitate  to  choose  the  farm. 


204  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

These,  then,  are  the  principal  reasons  which  account  for  the 
agglomeration  of  Italians  in  large  cities.  Suppressing  them,  the 
resulting  evil  will  necssarily  cease  to  exist. 

The  means  best  adapted  to  solving  this  problem  would  appear 
to  be  the  formation  of  colonizing  societies  which  should  propose 
to  found  agricultural  colonies  composed  of  Italian  peasants.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  greater  part  of  the  good  arable  land,  once 
the  property  of  the  government,  has  been  pre-empted,  and  has 
become  the  property  of  railroad  companies  and  private  indi- 
viduals ;  but  we  are  still  far  from  the  time  in  which  all  the  good 
land  will  be  under  cultivation.  Large  areas  await  the  hard  and 
continued  work  of  the  laborer  to  be  productive.  As  stated  above, 
most  of  these  lands  belong  to  private  corporations  or  individuals, 
and  these  should,  in  their  own  interests,  favor  the  colonizing  idea 
and  aid  in  realizing  it. 

The  work  of  the  society  would  consist  in  locating  the  land, 
and  in  providing  transportation,  and  other  expenses  incident  to 
the  placing  of  the  laborer  in  working  contact  with  the  land.  A 
fixed  wage-rate  might  be  advanced,  or  the  peasant  guaranteed  the 
living  of  himself  and  family  until  such  time  as  the  land  became 
productive.  The  ultimate  aim  of  the  colonizing  society  would  be 
(a)  to  render  the  peasant  proprietor  of  the  land  he  has  put  under 
cultivation,  or  (h)  to  remain  proprietor  of  the  land  and  administer 
the  agricultural  plant  it  has  established.  In  the  second  case,  the 
society  would  pay  the  laborer  wages,  or  rent  the  land,  exacting  a 
part  of  the  harvest.  The  choice  of  either  of  these  two  plans 
should  not  prejudice  the  practicability  of  success.  However,  the 
first  would  appear  to  be  better  adapted  to  invoke  the  ready  forma- 
tion of  colonies.  Should  the  second  plan  be  preferred,  and  the 
obligation  to  provide  for  the  needs  of  the  laborers  and  the  land 
remain  for  a  time,  the  peasants  could  be  treated  as  tenants,  and 
tenants  with  long  leases,  rather  than  as  wage-earners;  for  only 
in  this  way  could  they  be  permanently  established  and  attached 
to  the  land. 

It  is  certain  that  such  a  society,  organized  to  place  Italian 
immigrants  to  the  best  advantage,  would  be  able  to  reap  large 
profits  upon  the  capital  invested.    The  Italian  peasant,  if  not  the 


ITALIAN  IMMIGRATION  INTO  THE  UNITED  STATES      20 5 

best,  is  one  of  the  best  cultivators  of  land  in  Europe.  Despite  the 
drawbacks  existing  for  ages  in  his  own  country,  he  has  shown 
heroic  resistance,  and  has  confronted  misfortunes  and  persecu- 
tions before  which  many  others  would  have  sustained  ultimate 
defeat.  In  spite  of  all  the  disadvantages  of  climatic  conditions, 
and  the  varying  qualities  of  land,  lack  of  capital,  and  wise  admin- 
istration, ignorance  of  modern  agricultural  science  and  its  inven- 
tions, he  has  known  how  to  produce  cultures  of  every  kind.  But 
in  agricultural  industry  —  different  from  many  other  forms  of 
work  —  the  most  important  factor  of  production  is  always  the 
man.  It  is  the  capacity,  the  force,  of  the  man  that  assures  the 
success  of  a  colonizing  enterprise.  In  America,  where  he  would 
find  all  the  help  he  could  not  find  in  his  own  country,  the  Italian 
peasant  would  yield  marvelous  and  remunerative  results,  if  placed 
where  he  could  prove  his  ability. 

Now,  as  never  before,  the  conditions  are  propitious  for  an 
experiment  of  this  nature.  After  many  trials  the  cultivation  of 
the  mulberry  tree  in  the  United  States  —  without  which  the  rais- 
ing of  the  silk-worm  would  be  impossible  —  is  an  assured  fact. 
There  are  numerous  plantations  flourishing  in  several  states,  and 
it  can  be  predicted  that  its  culture  will  be  universal  in  the  South 
and  West.  Every  Italian  peasant  understands  the  mulberry,  and 
knows  how  to  foster  the  silk-worm  with  its  cocoon.  In  Italy, 
anywhere  except  in  a  very  few  provinces,  the  silk  culture  is  under- 
taken, at  some  points  being  the  only  culture  made,  at  others  sub- 
sidiary. In  the  United  States  the  Italian  colonies  could  propose 
the  extension  and  exploitation  of  this  new  fountain  of  riches, 
certain  that  it  would  repay  largely,  especially  those  who  would 
initiate  it.  The  United  States  imports  all  raw  silk  needed  for 
its  manufactories,  which  consume  immense  quantities.  Such 
culture,  aided  by  the  experience  of  the  Italians,  would  absolutely 
assure  success. 

The  establishment  of  an  Italian  colonization  society  in  the 
United  States  would  be  looked  upon  favorably  in  both  countries. 
Every  report  of  the  commissioner  of  immigration  exposes  the 
perils  of  concentration  and  exhorts  Congress  to  adopt  special 


206  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

precautions  for  a  right  distribution  of  the  new  immig-ration.^ 
It  is  certain  that  the  government  would  give  moral,  if  not  mate- 
rial, support  to  such  an  undertaking.  In  Italy,  attached  to  the 
ministry  of  foreign  affairs,  is  a  special  bureau  created  for  the 
purpose  of  protecting  and  advising  emigrants  to  seek  the  countries 
most  adapted  to  their  needs.  This  bureau  is  more  than  ever  con- 
vinced of  the  necessity  of  aiding  the  formation  of  agricultural 
colonies  where  the  Italian  emigrant  would  be  able  to  secure  condi- 
tions more  favorable  to  his  development  and  assimilation. 

The  two  governments,  therefore,  the  one  indirectly  and  mor- 
ally, the  other  directly  and  materially,  would  contribute  to  spur 
on  the  Italian  immigrant  toward  the  destination  best  adapted  to 
him  by  his  previous  mode  of  living  and  by  his  special  aptitude  for 
tilling  the  soil. 

*  See  reports  of  the  general  commissioner  of  immigration  for  the  years  190 1-3 
(Washington,  D.  C). 


THE  CIVIC  PROBLEM  FROM  A  SOCIOLOGICAL 
STANDPOINT.! 


PROFESSOR  IRA  W.  HOWERTH 
The  University  of  Chicago 


The  discussion  of  the  civic  problem  from  a  sociological  stand- 
point demands  an  explanation  of  what  the  sociological  standpoint 
is.  There  are  not  a  few  who  deny  the  existence  of  sociology,  to 
say  nothing  of  granting  it  the  development  and  independence 
which  the  possession  of  a  standpoint  would  imply.  And,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  such  a  denial  is  deemed  unworthy  of  special  atten- 
tion, it  must  be  admitted  that  sociology  is  not  yet  sufficiently 
advanced  to  speak  on  any  subject  with  convincing  authority.  Still 
there  is  a  sociological  standpoint,  and  much  of  the  confusion  of 
thought  in  regard  to  civic  and  social  questions  might  be  avoided 
if  this  standpoint  were  always  taken  by  those  who  discuss  them. 

Sociology  is  commonly  defined  as  the  science  of  association. 
As  such  it  may  limit  itself  to  the  description  of  social  phenomena 
and  their  causal  explanation.  It  may  be  as  indifferent  to  human 
progress,  as  contemptuous  of  the  utilitarian  purpose  which  its 
conclusions  may  serve,  as  ethically  colorless,  as  "pure,"  as  the 
science  of  mathematics.  This  conception  of  sociology  is,  I  think, 
as  far  as  it  goes,  legitimate.  But  every  science  has  its  application, 
and  few  scientists  are  able  to  preserve  the  neutrality  they  claim 
for  their  science.  As  Arnold  Toynbee  said  of  political  econo- 
mists :  "  While  affecting  the  reserved  and  serious  air  of  students, 
[they]  have  all  the  time  been  found  brawling  in  the  market- 
place." So,  if  sociology  were  merely  a  pure  or  abstract  science, 
we  should  still  undoubtedly  have  at  least  the  standpoint  of  the 
sociologist,  if  not  of  sociology. 

*  An  address  delirered  on  Civic  Day,  Thursday,  October  6,  1904,  in  the 
Louisiana  Purchase  Exposition,  at  a  meeting  arranged  by  the  National  Municipal 
League,  the  League  of  American  Municipalities,  and  the  American  Civic  Associa- 
tion. 

207 


208  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Sociology,  however,  is  something  more  than  a  descriptive  and 
explanatory  science.  It  does  not  limit  itself  to  a  study  of  the 
past  and  the  present,  of  things  as  they  are  and  have  been,  but  asks 
of  every  "  is  "  what  it  ought  to  be.  It  is  constructive,  it  is  teleo- 
logical,  it  is  a  science  of  social  values.  It  recognizes  the  unity  and 
organic  nature  of  a  city  or  nation,  and  frankly  proposes  the 
improvement  of  the  collective  life  as  its  end.  Municipal  soci- 
ology, if  I  may  use  that  expression,  projects  from  the  best  dis- 
coverable elements  in  municipal  life  a  civic  ideal  which  serves  as 
a  criterion  and  standard  of  judgment.  It  proves  all  things,  and 
holds  fast  to  that  which  is  good;  the  good  being  that,  and  that 
only,  which  enhances  the  municipal  life.  Its  measure  of  the 
good  and  evil  consequences  of  facts  and  conditions  is  always  in 
terms  of  general  civic  well-being. 

The  sociological  standpoint  is,  therefore,  the  standpoint  of 
absolute  impartiality  with  respect  to  the  interests  of  a  social 
group.  It  is  the  standpoint  of  the  life  of  the  people  as  a  whole. 
From  this  standpoint  all  the  elements  of  human  well-being  are 
duly  regarded-  From  it  we  observe  the  actual  or  probable  effects 
of  a  measure,  not  only  upon  the  industrial,  political,  religious, 
or  social  interests  of  the  municipality,  but  also  upon  its  physical, 
moral,  and  intellectual  life.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  political 
economist,  for  instance,  that  form  of  municipal  government  is 
best  which  best  promotes  the  economic  prosperity  of  the  city; 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  physician,  that  which  best  promotes 
the  health  of  the  people;  but  from  the  sociological  standpoint, 
that  form  of  government  alone  is  best  which  best  promotes  the 
general  welfare.  The  standpoint  of  sociology  is,  in  a  word,  the 
standpoint  from  which  we  see  all  around  the  circle  of  human 
interests. 

What,  then,  from  this  standpoint,  is  the  civic  problem  ?  The 
civic  problem,  as  ordinarily  understood,  is,  I  suppose,  the  prob- 
lem of  good  government.  Perhaps  it  might  be  stated  in  this 
form :  Given  the  conditions  of  a  municipality,  what  form  of 
government  is  best  applicable  to  it,  and  how  may  the  adoption  of 
that  form  be  secured?  But  from  the  sociological  standpoint  the 
civic  problem  is  something  more  than  the  problem  of  municipal 


THE  CIVIC  PROBLEM  209 

government.  It  is  the  problem  of  municipal  life.  The  good  and 
evil  of  a  municipal  administration  are  usually  measured  in  terms 
of  the  dominant  interest  of  the  municipality.  If  these  interests 
were  religious,  that  form  of  government  would  be  pronounced 
good  which  best  subserved  the  interests  of  the  church ;  if  indus- 
trial, that  form  which  best  promoted  the  economic  activities  of 
the  people.  Now,  the  dominant  interests  of  the  average  American 
municipality  are  industrial  and  commercial.  It  is  a  complimen- 
tary remark  to  say  of  a  city  that  it  is  on  a  "  boom."  The  demand 
is,  therefore,  for  a  business  administration,  and  in  more  senses 
than  one.  Any  form  of  administration  of  municipal  government 
that  would  drive  away  business  would  be,  I  suspect,  per  ipso 
facto  condemned  as  bad.  But  the  business  interests  of  a  city  are 
not  its  only,  nor  indeed  its  chief,  interests.  They  are  important, 
they  are  fundamental;  and  certainly  no  thinking  person  would 
propose  or  advocate  a  system  of  government  which  would  wan- 
tonly disturb  them.  But  still  business  is  not  sacred ;  or,  if  so,  it  is 
not  as  sacred  as  human  life.  Therefore,  the  business  which 
does  not  contribute  to  the  health  and  happiness  of  the  people 
ought  not  to  be  continued.  The  problem  with  respect  to  certain 
forms  of  business  is  not  how  to  promote  them,  but  how  to  render 
them  unnecessary.  Life  is  the  test  of  all  things  —  of  conduct,  of 
government,  of  institutions,  of  all  human  activity,  individual  or 
collective.  Whatever  contributes  to  the  quantity  or  quality  of 
life,  no  matter  how  apparently  insignificant,  is  dignified  and 
noble,  is  sacred,  is  divine.  On  the  other  hand,  whatever  detracts 
from,  or  is  injurious  to,  life;  whatever  abates  one  jot  or  one 
tittle  from  true  living,  no  matter  how  ancient  and  respectable  it 
may  be,  is  undignified,  unworthy,  ignoble.  The  true  object  of  a 
city's  consideration,  and  of  all  its  agencies,  is  the  life  of  its  citi- 
zens. The  civic  problem,  from  the  sociological  standpoint,  is 
therefore  the  problem  of  promoting,  improving,  enlarging,  the 
life  of  the  people.  It  is  the  problem  of  general  civic  well-being; 
not  a  problem  of  wealth,  but  of  weal.  It  is  the  problem  of  utiliz- 
ing all  the  powers  of  man  and  nature  for  the  good  of  all  the 
inhabitants  of  the  city.  It  may  be  stated,  perhaps,  as  follows: 
Given  a  municipal  population  with  its  physical,  mental,  and  moral 


210  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

development,  its  wealth  and  its  natural  resources,  how  can  it  best 
utilize  these  powers  for  the  attainment  of  the  most  complete  well- 
being  of  all  its  citizens  ?  The  civic  problem  so  stated  may  indeed 
be  considered  a  problem  of  government,  providing  we  under- 
stand by  government,  not  an  external,  and  more  or  less  independ- 
ent factor  of  control,  but  a  ready  servant  of  the  people,  the 
active  agency  through  which  the  collective  will  of  the  munici- 
pality finds  expression.  But  the  problem  will  be  more  clearly 
grasped,  I  suspect,  if  it  is  conceived  as  a  problem  of  the  develop- 
ment and  economy  of  force.  This  is  the  character,  indeed,  of 
every  civic  or  social  problem.  The  negative  phase  of  the  civic 
problem  is  how  to  deal  with  municipal  waste  of  wealth  and  life. 

The  thought  of  municipal  waste  is  usually  limited,  I  suppose, 
to  the  extravagances  and  corruption  of  municipal  authorities; 
and  this  in  itself  constitutes  an  enormous  leakage  and  a  grave 
problem.  The  rapidly  accumulating  indebtedness  of  our  cities, 
the  increasing  annual  cost  of  such  government  as  we  have,  have 
been  noted  with  alarm  by  all  students  of  municipal  administra- 
tion. There  is  not  a  city  in  the  country,  perhaps,  which  does  not 
pay  more  for  its  government  than  the  service  is  worth ;  which  does 
not  support  supernumerary  or  superannuated  politicians  —  public 
functionaries  which  are  either  barnacles  pure  and  simple,  or  rudi- 
mentary municipal  organs  as  useless,  if  not  as  dangerous,  in  the 
municipal  anatomy  as  the  appendix  vermiformis  is  in  the  human. 
The  removal  of  this  latter  organ  is  said  to  be  in  the  way  of 
becoming  a  fad.    Let  us  hope  it  will  extend  to  municipal  surgery. 

Examples  of  official  waste  crowd  upon  the  student  of  the 
civic  problem.  I  shall  present  only  a  single  illustration  from 
Chicago.  A  couple  of  years  ago  an  investigation  of  the  accounts 
of  the  West  Town  Board  and  the  West  Park  Board  showed  that 
the  tax-payers  of  our  city  had  been  for  years  systematically 
robbed  by  the  wasteful  and  extravagant  practices  of  these  boards. 
On  one  original  bond  issue  of  $667,000  interest  amounting  to 
$1,160,400  had  been  paid,  and  the  issue  once  refunded  was  half 
outstanding.  The  spyecial  taxes  paid  by  the  people  year  by  year 
to  meet  interest  and  principal  had  gone  chiefly  into  the  pockets 
of  officials,  and  the  estimated  waste  was  about  a  half  million 


THE  CIVIC  PROBLEM  21 1 

of  dollars.  That  this  is  a  mild  illustration  of  graft  could  be 
shown  by  other  experiences  of  Chicago,  and  by  that  of  other 
cities ;  but  it  is  a  typical  illustration.  Now,  graft  is,  of  course, 
a  crime,  according  to  any  legitimate  definition  of  that  word ;  but 
until  it  is  recognized  as  such,  and  its  punishment  is  as  swift  and 
as  severe  as  that  of  other  crimes  of  equal  enormity,  a  problem 
which  might  well  absorb  the  whole  attention  of  a  body  like  this 
is  how  to  abolish  it. 

Official  waste,  however,  great  as  it  is,  is  only  one  phase  of 
the  civic  problem,  as  it  appears  from  our  present  standpoint. 
Wealth  and  energy  not  utilized  for  the  public  good ;  unemployed 
labor  power,  whether  in  the  slums  or  on  the  boulevard ;  the  per- 
formance of  labor  socially  unnecessary;  the  premature  exhaus- 
tion of  labor  power  by  too  early,  too  long,  or  too  strenuous 
employment,  or  by  the  unsanitary,  dangerous,  or  degrading  con- 
ditions imposed  upon  it,  are  all  forms  of  municipal  waste.  All 
the  money  and  energy  put  into  the  art  of  industrial  competition; 
in  puffing  articles,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent;  in  pushing  trade, 
is  an  expenditure  for  which  there  is  no  adequate  return.  The 
lives  enfeebled  and  shortened  by  preventable  diseases,  and  by 
the  conditions  of  the  slimis  and  the  sweat-shops,  the  needlessly 
dangerous  and  brutalizing  conditions  under  which  many  are 
compelled  to  w;ork,  represent  an  incalculable  economic  loss.  The 
employment  of  women  and  children  in  hours  and  conditions 
which  injure  their  vitality,  however  profitable  it  may  be  to  the 
individual  employer,  is  plainly  municipal  folly.  The  civic  ideal 
is  an  ideal  of  humanity  and  economy. 

In  view  of  all  the  waste  of  our  municipalities,  and  the  nar- 
row conception  of  government  commonly  accepted,  Mr.  Bryce's 
oft-quoted  statement,  that  the  government  of  cities  is  the  one 
conspicuous  failure  of  the  United  States,  is  extremely  charitable. 
From  the  standpoint  of  wholesome  and  happy  human  life,  the 
city  itself  is  a  failure.  Who  can  contemplate  the  dirt  and  dis- 
order, the  ugliness  and  filth,  the  smoke  and  noise,  of  a  great 
city,  the  tenements  and  flats,  and  the  fact  that  human  beings 
live  in  them,  without  pitying  the  necessities  of  the  people,  or 
questioning  their  sanity?     Ruskin  has  doubtless  uttered  many 


212  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

extravagances,  but  what  he  has  said  of  a  modern  city  is  true. 
It  is,  indeed,  a  place  "  where  summer  and  winter  are  only  alterna- 
tives of  heat  and  cold ;  where  snow  never  fell  white,  nor  sunshine 
clear ;  where  the  ground  is  only  a  pavement,  and  the  sky  no  more 
than  a  glass  roof  of  an  arcade;  where  the  utmost  power  of  a 
storm  is  to  choke  the  gutters,  and  the  finest  magic  of  spring  to 
change  mud  into  dust."  We  read  of  the  "  downward  draft "  in 
the  cities;  that  they  must  be  recruited  from  the  country;  that 
their  mortality  is  at  least  20  per  cent,  greater  than  in  the  rural 
districts.  This  is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  life  in  a  city 
tends  to  physical  and  moral  degeneration.  Now,  the  relative 
population  of  our  cities  is  rapidly  growing  larger.  How  much 
greater  will  be  the  effect  on  the  nation  when  we  are  practically 
an  urban  people?  Obviously,  if  the  conditions  of  the  cities 
remain  the  same,  there  will  be  a  distinct  degeneration  of  the 
people,  as  a  royal  commission  recently  reported  of  Scotland.  In 
England  three-fourths  of  the  population  live  in  cities.  The 
vitalizing  current  from  the  country  grows  less  and  less,  and,  in 
spite  of  improvements  in  municipal  administration,  the  people  of 
England  are  declining  in  strength  and  vigor.  This  was  shown 
at  the  recruiting  offices  for  the  recent  war  in  South  Africa.  Only 
about  a  third  of  those  applying  for  service  were  physically  fit. 
It  is  a  plain  inference,  too,  from  the  appearance  and  condition 
of  the  English  working-people.  The  average  life  of  the  English 
laborer,  who,  of  course,  suffers  most  from  the  evils  of  city  life, 
is  only  twenty-two  years.  An  English  city  is  not  very  different 
from  an  American  city.  The  effects  upon  human  life  are  essen- 
tially the  same.  In  Massachussetts  cities,  for  instance,  the  aver- 
age life  of  a  common  factory  operative  is  thirty-six  and  three- 
tenths  years,  while  that  of  a  farmer  is  sixty-five  and  three-tenths 
years. 

Obviously,  then,  there  is  a  great  opportunity  for  the  city  to 
promote  the  economy  of  one  of  its  best  assets,  namely,  the  physi- 
cal life  of  its  people.  Perhaps  half  the  deaths  of  cities  are  due 
to  diseases  that  are  preventable.  If  our  municipal  authorities 
should  devote  half  as  much  time  and  thought  to  the  physical  wel- 
fare of  the  people  as  they  ordinarily  do  to  politics,  mortality 


THE  CIVIC  PROBLEM  2 1 3 

might  be  reduced  one-half,  and  thus  the  real  wealth  of  the  city 
be  enormously  increased. 

Take,  for  instance,  the  economic  loss  due  to  the  familiar 
disease  known  as  consumption.  The  number  of  deaths  annually 
in  the  United  States  from  this  disease  is  estimated  at  from 
145,000  to  160,000.  A  recent  writer  declares  that  "one  in  three 
of  all  the  deaths  between  the  ages  of  twenty-five  and  thirty-four 
years  is  due  to  consumption;  one  in  four,  between  the  ages  of 
thirty-five  and  forty- four."    And  he  continues : 

These  are  the  years  wherein  a  worker  is  at  his  best,  when  he  repays  to 
the  community  what  it  has  spent  upon  him  in  his  nurture  and  upbringing. 
....  The  average  man's  earnings  in  the  working  period  of  his  life  are  about 
$12,600.  The  average  earnings  of  a  consumptive,  taking  into  the  calculation 
the  short  period  which  he  earns  full  wages,  the  period  when  he  can  work 
only  part  of  the  time  at  what  light  tasks  he  can  find,  and  the  still  longer 
period  when  all  that  he  can  do  is  to  gasp  for  breath,  a  burden  to  his  family,  and 
more  than  a  burden,  a  menace  —  the  average  earnings  of  a  man  that  dies  of 

consumption  are  no  more  than  $4,075,  a  loss  of  $8,525  on  every  man 

Leaving  out  of  the  calculation  all  that  it  costs  for  medicines  and  nursing, 
counting  only  the  loss  of  wages,  we  are  out  more  than  a  billion  and  a  third 
of  dollars  every  year  by  the  Great  White  Plague.  It  is  as  if  every  year  the 
city  of  Columbus,  Ohio,  were  utterly  depopulated  and  not  a  living  soul  left 
in  it.  It  is  as  if  ten  times  what  it  costs  us  for  the  postal  system  of  the  United 
States  every  year  were  absolutely  thrown  away,  and  we  got  nothing  for  it. 
For  this  loss  of  wages  by  consumptives  is  a  needless  loss.  They  have  to  die 
some  time,  it  is  true,  but  they  need  not  thus  die  before  their  time. 

So  much  for  a  single  preventable  disease.  As  a  further  illus- 
tration, consider  the  loss  from  typhoid  fever.  Thirty-five  thous- 
and deaths  a  year  in  this  country  are  due  to  it;  and  yet  medical 
authorities  assure  us  it  is  one  of  the  most  readily  controlled  and 
preventable  diseases.  An  epidemic  of  typhoid  in  a  city,  town, 
or  village  is  an  evidence  of  culpable  ignorance  on  the  part  of  the 
people  or  criminal  negligence  on  the  part  of  the  authorities. 

Now  consider  what  could  be  don^,  if  the  municipality  gave 
the  same  attention  to  health  as  to  wealth.  New  York,  with 
attention  to  the  matter  by  no  means  ideal,  has  reduced  its  mor- 
tality from  consumption  40  per  cent.  Chicago,  by  such  care  as 
she  has  given  to  the  promotion  of  health,  has  reduced  her  death- 
rate  from  73  per  1,000  in  1854  to  15.43  in  1904.     London  has 


214  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

decreased  its  mortality  from  29  per  1,000  in  1835  to  from  17  to 
19  at  present.  The  armies  of  the  leading  nations  of  the  world, 
by  the  enforcement  of  simple  sanitary  measures,  have  greatly 
decreased  their  mortality  from  disease.  In  our  own  army  since 
1872  there  has  been  a  decrease  of  nearly  40  per  cent.,  and  officers 
and  men  of  that  army,  with  their  superior  knowledge  of  sanita- 
tion, have  stamped  out  the  yellow  fever  in  Havana.  Does  it 
not  seem,  then,  that  the  wisest  expenditure  of  money  that  a  city 
can  make  is  in  the  endeavor  to  approach  the  sanitary  ideal, 
namely,  the  absolute  prevention  of  all  parasitic  diseases  ?  In  view 
of  the  possibilities  in  this  direction,  how  childish  and  foolish  are 
some  of  the  expenditures  of  municipal  funds  —  in  the  entertain- 
ment of  a  foreign  figure-head,  for  instance,  or  in  the  jubilee  cele- 
Brations  at  the  close  of  the  Spanish  War ! 

What  has  just  been  said  of  the  economic  loss  due  to  munici- 
pal neglect  of  health  might  also  be  said  of  education.  No  one 
can  estimate  the  loss  of  a  municipality  from  suppressed  or  unde- 
veloped capacities.  True  economy  practiced  here  would  take 
every  child  out  of  the  factory  and  off  the  streets,  and  put  it  into 
the  school,  and  keep  it  there  for  whole-day  sessions  until  it  is 
sixteen  years  old.  It  would  more  than  double  the  expenditure 
for  teachers  and  equipment.  As  a  nation,  we  boast  of  our  educa- 
tional system  and  the  money  we  expend  upon  it;  and  it  seems 
a  pity  to  say  anything  derogatory  of  it  now  while  we  are  busy 
appropriating  the  flattering  comments  of  the  Moseley  Commis- 
sion. But  I  venture  the  assertion  that,  while  in  comparison  with 
other  countries  we  may  have  some  reason  to  boast,  this  educa- 
tional system  upon  which  we  pride  ourselves,  when  considered 
in  the  light  of  what  it  ought  to  be,  is  pitiably  defective  and  ineffi- 
cient. As  a  nation,  we  spend  $225,000,000  a  year  for  common 
schools;  but  the  sum  is  small  compared  with  what  some  nations 
spend  on  their  armies.  Our  own  military  appropriations  for 
1903  were  $220,000,000,  and  there  are  loud  complaints  of  the 
comparative  insignificance  of  our  army  and  our  navy.  We  pay 
four  or  five  millions  for  a  warship,  and  begrudge  a  slender 
appropriation  for  schools.  We  do  not  recognize  how  much 
more  economical  it  is  to  invest  money  in  men  than  in  men-of- 


THE  CIVIC  PROBLEM  2 1  5 

war ;  how  much  more  important  to  a  nation  is  brain-power  than 
sea-power. 

But  I  cannot  point  out,  much  less  consider,  all  the  problems 
involved  in  the  civic  problem  as  it  appears  from  the  sociological 
standpoint.  I  must  content  myself  by  offering,  in  conclusion,  a 
suggestion  or  two  in  regard  to  its  solution. 

From  the  sociological  standpoint,  the  civic  problem,  embra- 
cing as  it  does  a  whole  cluster  of  problems,  is  primarily  educa- 
tional. But  the  problem  of  education  is,  from  one  point  of  view, 
a  problem  of  government.  A  municipal  government  truly  repre- 
sentative of  the  people  is,  as  I  have  said,  the  active  agent  for 
promoting  all  their  interests.  This  implies  a  liberal  theory  of  the 
functions  of  government.  Theories  of  government,  however, 
are  relative,  not  absolute.  When  the  government  of  a  nation  or 
a  city  is  from  without — of  a  nation  by  a  king  or  a  privileged 
class,  or  of  a  city  by  a  state  legislature,  a  ring,  or  a  boss  —  the 
laissez  faire  theory  of  government  has  much  to  commend  it.  For 
if  history  teaches  anything  at  all,  it  is  that^  as  a  rule,  the  business 
of  governing  will  be  run  in  the  interest  of  the  governors.  It 
is  not  strange,  then,  that  with  the  ignorance,  selfishness,  and  cor- 
ruption of  the  governments  of  the  world  before  their  eyes,  men 
like  Mr.  Spencer  should  conclude  that  government  should  keep 
hands  off;  that  in  its  attempts  to  mitigate  human  suffering  it 
continually  increases  it.  All  governments  have  been  in  the  past, 
and  are  now,  more  or  less  external,  and  consequently  more  or 
less  paternal.  They  should,  therefore,  be  restrained.  But 
restraint  is  not  the  end;  they  should  be  popularized.  When  the 
government  of  a  city  becomes  popular  in  reality  as  well  as  in 
name;  when  it  is  a  government  of,  by,  and  for  the  people,  then 
selfish  and  corrupt  aims  are  no  longer  to  be  feared  —  because  a 
city  could  hardly  be  said  to  be  corrupt  and  selfish  with  regard 
to  itself — and  the  only  danger  is  ignorance.  Then  the  positive 
theory  of  government  applies.  Then  a  municipal  government, 
no  matter  how  extensive  its  functions,  is  but  the  self-directed 
activity  of  the  mimicipality,  which  is  as  wholesome  for  a  city 
as  that  sort  of  activity  is  for  an  individual.  The  dangers  of  popu- 
lar ignorance  will  remain  to  be  feared,  blunders  will  be  made. 


2l6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

and  perhaps  the  economy  will  be  less  than  under  government 
by  an  external  agency.  Self-government  is  by  no  means  neces- 
sarily the  best  in  point  of  immediate  achievement.  It  is  only  in 
the  light  of  its  final  results  that  it  is  superior.  Its  end  is  the 
interests  of  all,  and  all  public  action,  no  matter  how  mistaken, 
is  disciplinary.  It  learns  to  do  by  doing.  The  action  of  such  a 
government  is  not  paternalism.  What  the  government  as  an 
outside  agency  does  for  the  i)eople  may  be  so  called;  but  what 
the  people  consciously  do  for  themselves  through  the  govern- 
ment acting  as  their  agent  is  not  paternalism,  but  democracy. 
Democracy  and  paternalism  is  a  contradiction  in  terms. 

The  first  step,  then,  toward  the  solution  of  the  civic  problem 
is  to  popularize  the  government;  to  take  it  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  politicians,  and  put  it  into  the  hands  of  the  people.  Obviously, 
the  principle  of  home  rule  is  a  sound  one.  But  home  rule  alone 
is  not  sufficient.  Home  rule  may  still  be  the  rule  of  the  boss  or 
the  ring.  The  end  is  not  attained  when  the  government  of  a  city 
is  located  within  its  limits.  It  must  be  brought  into  right  rela- 
tions to  the  people.  Not  home  rule,  but  self-rule,  is  the  object 
to  be  attained.  Hence,  direct  legislation,  popular  initiative,  the 
referendum,  and  popular  veto  are  measures  which  should  be 
approved.  These  reforms  will  not  remove  all  the  evils  of  munici- 
pal life;  but  we  shall  not  be  on  the  direct  path  to  a  correct  solu- 
tion of  the  civic  problem  until  these  measures  are  enacted.  There 
are  evils  of  democracy;  but  the  only  cure  for  them  is  more 
democracy.  All  proposals,  therefore,  for  lessening  the  activity 
and  the  influence  of  the  people  of  a  city  in  their  own  govern- 
ment should  be  frowned  upon.  The  proposal  of  a  restriction  of 
the  suffrage,  whether  by  an  educational  or  by  a  property  qualifi- 
cation, is,  I  think,  reactionary.  Such  restriction  would  deprive 
those  who  need  it  most  of  the  experience  and  discipline  without 
which  they  never  would  become  good  citizens.  The  immediate 
results  might  be  better;  but  to  prefer  an  immediate  advantage 
to  a  deferred  but  greater  good  is  not  the  mark  of  intelligence  in 
a  man  or  in  a  municipality. 

Now,  the  problem  of  popularizing  the  government  of  a  city 
is  largely  a  problem  of  developing  the  civic  consciousness,  which, 


THE  CIVIC  PROBLEM  2 1 7 

in  turn,  is  a  problem  of  education.  Hence,  education  in  the 
school  and  in  adult  life  should  be  consciously  turned  toward  that 
end.  The  evils  of  city  government  are  due  in  part  to  defective 
teaching  in  the  schools.  If  the  sociological  standpoint  were 
there  taken;  if  relative  social  values  were  there  always  consid- 
ered, and  the  habit  of  estimating  them  were  there  formed,  there 
would  be  a  readjustment  of  the  curriculum  and  an  improved 
quality  of  citizenship.  If  the  voters  of  this  generation  had  been 
taught  in  the  schools  the  economic  value  of  health  and  life,  and 
the  social  effects  of  individual  ignorance  and  action,  the  passage 
of  a  health  ordinance  —  as,  for  instance,  against  spitting  in  public 
places  —  would  never  have  been  described  as  "four-flushing." 
As  the  school,  however,  is  not  the  only  educational  agency,  we 
need  not  rely  altogether  upon  it  for  civic  education.  There 
should  be  the  widest  diffusion  possible  of  civic  knowledge  among 
adults.  General  publicity  of  the  work  of  all  departments  of  the 
municipal  service  should  be  secured,  not  merely  by  publications 
of  interest  to  scholars  only,  but  in  a  form  that  will  appeal  to  the 
understanding  and  the  interest  of  every  voter. 

Formal  education,  however,  is  not  the  only  method  of  devel- 
oping the  collective  will.  It  should  be  supplemented  by  experi- 
ence. For  this  reason  the  public  ownership  of  public  utilities  is 
to  be  encouraged,  not  only  upon  economic  grounds  narrowly  con- 
ceived, but  upon  the  highest  civic  grounds.  Until  the  govern- 
ment of  a  city  is  lifted  into  the  high  prominence  and  command- 
ing dignity  which  the  performance  of  great  functions,  which 
touch  closely  the  daily  life  of  every  citizen,  gives  it,  the  exercise 
of  the  right  of  suffrage  will  not  be  in  the  highest  degree  educa- 
tional. From  the  sociological  standpoint,  then,  municipal  owner- 
ship is  not  merely  an  ideal  to  be  striven  for,  it  is  an  educational 
necessity. 

By  this  general  view  of  the  civic  problem  I  am  led,  then,  to 
the  conclusion  that  education  and  municipalization  should  be 
the  watchwords  of  municipal  reform.  Of  the  details  of  legisla- 
tion and  governmental  machinery  I  have  not  spoken;  for  time 
would  not  permit,  even  if  I  were  competent  to  do  so.  But  the 
things  to  which  I  have  referred  are  fundamental.     The  socio- 


2l8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

logical  standpoint,  the  standpoint  of  life,  should  be  taken  in  the 
study  of  all  civic  and  social  questions.  From  this  standpoint 
the  civic  problem  is  the  problem  of  all-round  civic  well-being. 
The  primary  conditions  of  its  solution  are  a  purified  and  devel- 
oped democracy,  and  an  integrated  and  intelligent  civic  con- 
sciousness. There  is  no  immediate  and  final  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem, to  be  sure;  but  that  is  no  excuse  for  inaction.  Everything 
that  leads  to  life  should  be  desired  and  striven  for,  and  the  things 
which  lead  to  destruction  should  be  scorned  and  destroyed. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY.    XVI 

PART   III.     GENERAL  STRUCTURE  OF  SOCIETY 

CHAPTER  VII.      THE  SOCIAL  FRONTIERS    (CONTINUED) 

SECTION   VII.      GAUL   AND  GERMANY  —  THE   CHRISTIAN   CHURCH 


G,    DE    GREEF 
Rector  of  the  Nouvelle  Universite,  Brussels,  Belgium 


In  his  Atlas  of  Historical  Geography  M.  F.  Schrader  says: 

The  limits  of  Italy  often  changed  in  antiquity We  see  that  the 

Romans  never  regarded  the  Alps  as  the  natural  and  necessary  frontier  of 
Italy.  In  their  eyes  the  Alps  were  only  the  geographical  boundary  of  that 
country;  the  political  limits  were  always  traced  either  to  the  south  or  to  the 
north  of  the  range. 

This  observation  is  perfectly  correct,  although  vague;  after  all 
that  we  have  already  pointed  out,  it  would  have  been  more  exact 
if  the  author  had  concluded  that  there  are  no  natural  frontiers, 
but  only  social  frontiers;  then  only  are  explained  the  continuous 
changes  of  frontiers,  not  only  of  ancient  Italy,  but  of  the  Italy  of 
the  Middle  Ages  and  of  modern  times  as  well,  and  even  of  those 
of  all  other  societies,  whether  political  or  not. 

In  order  to  protect  Italy  and  communicate  with  Spain,  it  was 
necessary  to  conquer  Gaul.  Likewise  in  order  to  make  sure  of 
Gaul,  it  would  have  been  necessary  to  advance  beyond  the  Rhine 
into  Germany.  There  was,  moreover,  a  further  necessity  imposed 
upon  society,  which  was  to  procure  through  conquest  the  possi- 
bility of  the  continuous  economic  exploitation  of  the  population  of 
new  territories.  It  was  not  exactly  commercial  outlets  which 
Rome  sought  to  create  as  do  modern  states,  but  rather  to  draw 
upon  the  labor  and  wealth  of  other  peoples.  The  rigid  law  of 
property  which  she  had  established  for  the  interior  extended  in  a 
vaster  form,  through  her  domination,  to  the  exterior. 

We  have  here,  however,  to  concern  ourselves  only  with  the 

219 


220  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

frontiers,  and  to  seek  the  facts  which  may  serve  as  the  basis  of  a 
positive  theory  in  regard  to  this  main  problem. 

If  we  consult  the  works  especially  of  G.  de  Mortillat  upon  pre- 
historic France  and  the  formation  of  the  French  nation,  and 
other  works  not  less  remarkable,  and  put  them  in  relation  with 
geographical  facts,  we  observe,  in  the  age  of  reindeer  and  of 
caves,  the  well-established  existence  of  more  than  five  hundred 
caverns  scattered  through  half  a  hundred  of  the  present  depart- 
ments of  France.  These  caverns  are  in  general  distributed  along, 
and  on  either  side  of,  water-courses,  streams,  or  rivers.  There- 
fore, even  at  this  remote  period,  water-courses,  which  were 
doubtless  followed  imperceptibly  from  source  to  mouth,  no  longer 
constituted,  if  they  had  ever  done  so,  natural  barriers  or  frontiers. 

The  same  observation  is  applicable  to  the  age  of  polished 
stone,  characterized  by  megalithic  monuments,  dolmens,  etc.  The 
area  of  the  megalithic  monuments  extends  almost  without  inter- 
ruption from  the  beaches  of  Norway  and  Sweden  along  the  coast 
of  western  Europe  to  the  shores  of  Morocco,  Algeria,  and  Tunis ; 
it  follows  the  Rhone  and  the  Saone  upon  either  side,  thence  turns 
toward  the  east,  through  Chalons  to  Berlin.  Outside  of  this 
extensive  zone,  embracing  a  uniform  civilization,  one  does  not 
find  a  trace  of  it ;  but,  whatever  its  inner  subdivision  into  distinct 
groups,  one  perceives  that  this  civilization  was  already  both  fluvial 
and  littoral.  According  to  Alexander  Bertrand,  it  reappeared  on 
the  one  side  as  far  away  as  the  foot  of  the  Caucasus,  and  on  the 
other,  in  Lencoran  in  Transcaucasia. 

All  these  cave  and  megalithic  populations  were  subdued  by 
the  Celts,  and  they  were,  moreover,  distinct  from  the  Ligurians, 
whose  area  of  expansion  was  almost  entirely  outside  of  the  limit 
of  the  regions  occupied  by  the  megalithic  populations. 

Another  Indo-European  current  was  oriental.  Starting  from 
the  Black  Sea  and  the  valleys  of  the  Caucasus,  or  the  great  plains 
of  the  Don  and  the  Volga,  it  followed  the  banks  of  the  Danube 
and  the  Dneiper.  It  established  the  lacustrine  cities  in  the  Swiss 
lakes,  and  as  far  as  Lake  Bourget  in  Savoy,  as  well  as  in  those  of 
the  valleys  of  the  Danube,  always  indifferently  upon  both  banks ; 
and  also  in  northern  Italy. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  221 

According  to  d'Arbois  de  Jubanville,  the  oldest  Celtic  settle- 
ments were  to  the  East  of  the  middle  Rhine  in  the  basin  of  the 
Main  and  upon  both  banks  of  the  upper  Danube.  Toward  the 
end  of  the  seventh  century  before  our  era,  too  cramped  for  room, 
or  driven  back  by  other  tribes,  they  divided  into  two  groups. 
The  one,  turning  toward  the  North  Sea,  occupied  the  northern 
plains  of  Germany  and  the  British  Isles;  the  other  crossed  the 
Rhine  and  established  itself  between  the  Atlantic  Ocean  and  the 
Alps,  spreading  later  into  Spain,  where  it  dominated  from  the 
sixth  century  until  the  Carthaginian  conquest  effected  between  the 
years  236  and  218.  All  of  these  Celtic  populations  thus  spread 
by  following  river  basins  and  natural  highways,  and,  when  neces- 
sary, by  crossing  mountains.  It  was  impossible  to  confine  them 
between  rivers  or  mountains ;  they  even  crossed  the  sea. 

The  Alps  even  were  surmounted ;  the  Celtic  invasion  of  Italy 
was  quickly  followed  by  the  taking  of  Rome  by  the  Gauls  in  390. 
Some  established  themselves  in  the  valley  of  the  Po;  the  others, 
toward  the  southeast  in  the  region  between  the  Appennines  and 
the  Adriatic.  At  the  same  time,  other  tribes  occupied  Pannonia 
and  northern  Thrace.  The  Celtic  race  touched  the  Black  Sea, 
and  thence  spread  into  Galatia  in  Asia  Minor.  In  Europe,  just 
as  in  Asia,  this  civilization  was  essentially  fluvial  and  continental, 
and  in  reality  interfluvial.  Other  movements,  of  settlements,  of 
repulse,  and  of  replacement,  were  produced  in  succession  at  the 
same  time  with  regional  differentiations.  Thus  the  Belgae,  driven 
out  of  Germany,  settled  from  the  Rhine  to  the  Seine ;  others  estab- 
lished themselves  in  the  center  of  Gaul.  The  Belgae  also  crossed 
the  Channel  and  colonized  Britain.  As  to  the  Ligurians,  who 
occupied  the  whole  basin  of  the  Rhone  and  the  upper  portions  of 
the  Garonne  and  of  the  Seine,  they  were  forced  back  toward  the 
Mediterranean,  All  the  divisions  and  subdivisions  which  were  pro- 
duced in  the  mass  of  the  Celtic  populations  were  social  combina- 
tions, of  which  the  mountains  and  the  rivers  were  only  accessory 
elements  and  by  no  means  decisive. 

At  the  coming  of  Caesar,  Gaul  extended  on  the  south  to  the 
middle  and  lower  basin  of  the  Garonne  (it  should  be  observed 
that  it  occupied  both  banks).     On  the  east  it  touched  and  pene- 


222  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

trated  the  Cevennes,  and  extended  as  far  as  the  upper  course  of 
the  Rhone;  and,  if  it  stopped  at  this  river,  it  was  because  behind 
it  was  the  Roman  province,  which  was  a  social  force.  It  included 
a  part  of  Switzerland  with  its  mountains  and  the  upper  course  of 
the  Rhine.  From  this  point  the  Rhine  served  as  its  boundary,  but 
was  continually  crossed  in  both  directions.  Gaul  thus  embraced 
a  great  number  of  fluvial  basins:  the  Garonne,  the  Loire,  the 
Seine,  the  Scheldt,  the  Meuse;  and  many  orographic  systems 
besides.  It  touched  upon  the  Atlantic  and  the  North  Sea,  and  it 
crossed  the  Channel. 

It  would,  however,  be  an  error  to  consider  Gaul  as  forming 
what  we  call  a  nationality.  It  was  divided  into  tribes,  which 
formed  alliances  and  federations,  following  circumstances  in  a 
more  or  less  permanent  fashion,  and  which  were  divided  among 
themselves  by  divergent  social  interests  exploited  by  the  ambition 
of  the  chiefs. 

It  is  here  necessary  only  to  keep  in  mind  that  all  the  tribes 
occupied  portions  of  basins ;  they  were  thus  geographically  inter- 
dependent; they  were  separated  neither  by  rivers  nor  by  moun- 
tains.   This  will  prove  to  be  a  factor  favorable  to  their  fusion. 

A  number  of  years  before  our  era,  under  Augustus,  we  find 
Gaul  divided  into  three  provinces  —  Belgic  Gaul,  Celtic  Gaul,  and 
Aquitaine.  All  the  old  territorial  limits  of  the  tribes  or  groups 
of  tribes,  already  so  slightly  geographic,  were  overthrown.  The 
Celtic  province  had  henceforth  only  half  of  its  old  territory ;  that 
of  Aquitaine  was  quintupled,  including  all  the  country  between 
the  Loire  and  the  Garonne.  In  return,  two  Belgian  civitates  were 
annexed  to  the  Celtic  province,  and  three  Celtic  civitates  to  the 
Belgic.  Even  the  number  of  civitates  changed;  from  the  year 
lo  B.  C.  to  20  A.  D.  the  number  increased  from  60  to  64.  Toward 
the  year  400,  Gaul  included  not  less  than  17  provinces  and  113 
cities.  Both  had  become  simple  administrative,  financial,  and 
military  divisions.  As  to  the  two  parts  of  Germany,  they  were 
both  independent  of  the  Belgic  province  from  a  military  point  of 
view,  and  dependent  from  a  civil  and  financial  point  of  view. 
There  can  therefore  be  no  question  in  regard  to  the  natural  fron- 
tiers of  the  tribes ;  for,  supposing  that  there  had  been  such,  they 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  223 

had  disappeared,  and  there  can  no  longer  be  any  question  regard- 
ing the  supposed  natural  frontiers  of  Gaul,  since  it  was  included 
within  the  Roman  Empire.  What,  then,  are  these  pretended 
natural  frontiers  which  never  are  frontiers  ? 

In  Gaul  all  the  traditional  forms  of  the  tribes  were  overthrown 
at  the  point  where  we  see  the  name  of  the  chief  generally  substi- 
tuted for  that  of  the  civitas.  On  the  contrary,  in  the  three  Gauls 
we  see  the  principal  place  take  the  name  of  the  civitas;  thus  Lute- 
teia  was  called  Parish.  , 

Gaul  was  only  a  geographical  expression;  Galates  and  Gauls 
are  Celts ;  they  are  the  successive  names  of  the  same  population. 
They  crossed  over  the  Pyrenees,  and  toward  the  northeast  ex- 
tended, by  way  of  the  valley  of  the  Danube,  as  far  as  the  Scythi- 
ans, with  whom  they  mixed  at  their  extremities,  and  formed  the 
Celtoscythians.  All  the  consecutive  divisions  and  differentiations 
of  the  Celts  are  purely  sociological  divisions  and  differentiations ; 
that  is  to  say,  they  are  more  complex  than  those  which  are  only 
physical.  The  Germans  themselves  appear  to  have  been  only  Celts 
or  Gauls  whose  type  was  preserved  in  its  purity  for  a  longer  time. 

Less  advanced  in  civilization  than  their  brothers  in  Gaul 
proper,  the  Germans,  according  to  Tacitus,  still  lived  separately 
and  dispersed,  in  discontiguous  village  settlements,  surrounded 
by  unoccupied  territory.  The  lands  were  occupied  by  all  the 
tribes  successively,  and  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  cultivators ; 
they  were  distributed  according  to  the  rank  of  each.  The  vast 
extent  of  their  plains  facilitated  these  divisions.  They  changed 
their  pieces  of  ground  each  year,  and  there  was  always  free  land ; 
they  did  not,  therefore,  need  to  take  account  of  the  fertility  and 
the  extent  of  their  lands.  They  raised  only  wheat;  they  seem 
neither  to  have  planted  vineyards  nor  to  have  inclosed  meadows. 
They  were  at  once  hunting,  pastoral,  and  agricultural  tribes, 
partly  sedentary  and  partly  migratory.  According  to  Tacitus,^ 
these  populations  were  held  within  natural  —  that  is  to  say,  physi- 
cal —  limits :  the  Rhine,  the  Danube,  the  mountains,  the  ocean. 
But  Tacitus  recognized  that  the  Cimbri,  having  set  out  from  Jut- 
land, encamped  simultaneously  upon  both  banks  of  the  Rhine, 

^  Germania,  I,  xvi,  xx. 


224  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

where  they  left  "  vast  remains  of  their  camps  and  their  inclosures." 
As  to  the  Teutons  and  the  Suevi,  Marius  and  Caesar  were  obliged 
to  drive  them  out  of  Gaul,  whither  they  had  penetrated.  Belgic 
Gaul  included  also  populations  considered  Germanic. 

Among  the  ancient  Germans  the  tribe  was  still  the  funda- 
mental force  of  society.  Each  of  them  dwelt  within  limits  which 
were  not  physical,  but  fixed  by  agreement  either  previous  to  or 
after  conflict.  The  German  mark  was  a  territory  held  in  posses- 
sion by  a  colony  formed  in  primitive  times  of  a  family,  or  a  larger 
or  smaller  related  group.  German  colonization  was  effected 
through  the  creation  of  successive  marches,  which,  even  when 
German  expansion  had  been  carried  very  far,  long  preserved  the 
character  which  we  have  already  met  with  in  the  case  of  all 
marches  whatsoever.  In  the  mark  each  free  member  of  the  com- 
munity had  a  right  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  forests,  pastures,  and 
arable  land;  this  was  only  a  right  of  usufruct  or  of  possession. 
After  each  harvest,  the  plot  of  ground  returned  to  the  common 
holdings,  and  the  German  remained  the  permanent  possessor  of 
only  the  land  upon  which  he  dwelt,  with  its  immediate  surround- 
ings. The  Germans  were  also  unacquainted  with  wills,  although 
they  permitted  inheritance,  in  so  far  as  the  holding  was  considered 
the  property  of  each  head  of  a  family.  Inheritance  took  place  in 
the  following  order:  first,  children;  second,  brothers;  third, 
paternal  and  maternal  uncles. 

When  the  population  of  the  mark  became  excessive,  emigra- 
tion and  the  formation  of  a  new  mark  occurred.  The  same  phe- 
nomenon was  produced  almost  simultaneously  in  all  the  ancient 
marks,  the  emigrants  forming  enormous  bands  which  searched 
for  lands  and  wealth  in  the  most  distant  countries  beyond  rivers 
and  mountains.  All  the  German  marks  adhered  to  this  social 
organization.  The  Teutonic  Mark  was  formed  by  a  primitive 
establishment  of  a  group  of  related  persons  among  whom,  as 
Csesar  said  of  the  Suevi,  the  land  was  distributed  inter  gentes  et 
cognationes  hominum. 

The  marks  most  recently  formed,  those  which  were  the  most 
distant  from  the  primitive  marks  and  which  found  themselves  at 
the  extremities  of  the  German  possessions,  upon  the  frontiers, 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  22$ 

were  naturally  the  most  warlike ;  and  still  more  was  this  true  of 
the  bands  which  set  out  en  masse  at  random.  We  also  see  that 
always,  or  almost  always,  the  military  marches  became  the  cen- 
ters for  the  formation  of  great  military  states,  and  indeed  of  the 
greater  part  of  those  which  constitute  the  great  powers  of  modern 
Europe. 

Such  are  the  general  laws  of  development  of  societies  whose 
type  is,  in  whole  or  in  part,  the  Mark-Genossenschaft,  and  the 
allmend  or  ordinary  mark  of  the  Germans.  This  presents  the 
strongest  analogies  with  the  primitive  forms  of  populations  which 
have  not  been  in  relation  with  Germany;  for  example,  those 
found  among  the  American  tribes.  However,  these  latter  have  in 
general  a  less  evolved  economic  structure.  Thus,  while  the  Ger- 
mans pastured  their  cattle  in  the  mark,  and  had  even  established 
certain  rules  for  the  exploitation  of  the  forests,  and  had  dis- 
tinguished a  sort  of  private  property  from  the  common  ownership, 
the  Indian  tribes,  still  in  the  hunting  stage,  recognized  only  com- 
mon property,  with  the  exception  of  certain  movable  objects. 
Already  the  German  custom  approached  more  nearly  the  Greek 
stage,  where  the  free  man  was  proprietor  of  his  piece  of  ground, 
with  a  right  of  inheritance  in  favor  of  his  family.  But  in  Greece 
and  among  the  American  Indians,  as  well  as  among  the  Gauls 
and  the  Germans,  the  communistic  forms  reappeared  regularly 
with  greater  or  less  distinctiveness  in  military  colonization.  The 
military,  hunting,  pastoral,  or  agricultural  colony  tended  every- 
where and  always  to.  reproduce  the  communistic  type  with  its 
military  accessories.  The  mark,  whenever  it  has  an  economic 
form  in  military  societies,  is  the  most  characteristic  in  the  military 
marches,  upon  the  extreme  frontiers,  while  in  the  original  centers 
this  character  tends  to  become  more  complex  and  to  give  birth  to 
a  peaceful  development.  In  the  interior  the  social  development 
tends  to  become  more  and  more  differentiated  from  the  military 
structure,  whose  force,  on  the  other  hand,  increases  in  proportion 
as  we  approach  the  frontier. 

The  evolution,  for  example,  of  the  possession  of  the  soil,  in 
spite  of  accessory  variations,  has  followed  almost  everywhere  an 
identical   direction;    namely:     (i)    right  of  possession   of   the 


226  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

horde;  (2)  right  of  possession  of  the  tribe ;  (3)  right  of  posses- 
sion of  the  clan;  (4)  right  of  possession  of  a  family  of  tlie  clan. 
Now,  it  is  always  on  the  frontiers  of  each  civilization  that  the 
most  simple  forms  are  found ;  they  are  at  the  limits  of  the  social 
space  as  they  are  at  those  of  time. 

When  one  observes  that  the  lex  Salica  and  the  Saxenspiegel  of 
the  Germans  reveal  a  customary  right  corresponding  to  the  tradi- 
tional usages  of  the  American  tribes,  it  is  evident  that  these 
fundamental  resemblances  cannot  be  explained  by  imitation;  and 
as  it  is  true  of  possession  and  ownership,  it  is  equally  so  in  the 
case  of  the  frontiers  which  are  the  external  form  of  the  combina- 
tion of  a  population  and  a  fixed  territory  —  a  combination  out  of 
which  a  society  results. 

Everywhere  for  genetic  social  structures  with  their  corre- 
sponding frontiers  we  see  substituted,  under  similar  conditions, 
divisions  whose  bases  are  no  longer  natural,  in  the  sense  of  physi- 
cal or  genetic.  The  same  evolution  occurs  at  the  same  stages, 
with  the  same  essential  characters,  as  well  in  Asia,  in  America, 
and  in  Africa  as  in  Europe,  and  as  well  among  the  Aryans  as 
among  the  Semites,  the  yellow,  black,  or  red-skinned  races.  It  is 
no  more  astonishing  to  see  the  ancient  Peruvian  capital  divided 
into  separate  and  unalterable  quarters,  according  to  the  places 
of  origin  of  the  population,  than  to  learn  that  the  military  forces 
were  actually  stationed  in  general  in  distinct  districts  and  build- 
ings, and  even  that  each  arm  had  its  special  quarters.  In  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  even  later,  there  were  such  quarters  for  every 
occupation,  and  also  for  inhabitants  of  different  origins,  as  even 
today  the  names  of  a  great  number  of  our  streets  recall. 

As  the  regional  and  genetic  divisions  tend  to  disappear,  we 
see  appearing  simply  numerical  divisions,  which  recall  only  re- 
motely the  structure  of  the  clan  and  of  the  family.  Thus,  the 
Hebrews  were  grouped  in  tens,  fifties,  hundreds,  and  thousands. 
These  same  subdivisions  are  met  with  everywhere  under  analo- 
gous conditions.  Thus  in  Japan,  according  to  Alcock,^  in  certain 
parts  of  the  country  there  exists  a  sort  of  hierarchial  system  of 
chiefs  of  tens  and  of  hundreds,  the  otonos  of  the  towns  and  vil- 

*  The  Capital  of  the  Tycoon. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  22/ 

lages.  They  are  responsible  individually  and  collectively  for  the 
good  conduct  of  their  groups.  The  fact  is  that  these  Japanese 
towns  and  villages  had  a  structure  which  was  no  longer  that  of 
the  tribe  or  the  clan.  Japan,  at  the  time  when  the  above- 
mentioned  author  wrote,  was  in  a  situation  analogous  to  that  of 
our  states  of  the  Middle  Ages,  where  we  find  the  same  kinds  of 
division.  Will  anyone  claim  that  Japan  has  imitated  Europe  of 
the  Middle  Ages?  The  most  general  conditions  of  the  life  of 
societies  being  everywhere  the  same,  and  the  number  of  social 
combinations  possible  in  view  of  adaptation  to  these  conditions 
being  limited,  what  wonder  that  the  same  forms  are  met  with 
everywhere  at  the  same  stages?  This  is  no  more  extraordinary 
than  the  homogeneity  of  the  human  species,  or  than  the  homo- 
geneity of  the  evolution  of  each  individual  of  this  species.  It  is 
necessary  to  bear  well  in  mind  this  leading  sociological  concep- 
tion, that  not  only  are  all  men  of  the  same  species,  but  that 
human  societies  are  also  all  of  the  same  species,  in  spite  of  their 
possible,  but  always  limited  and  accessory,  variations. 

E.  de  Laveleye  confirms  the  preceding  observations  relative  to 
the  simply  arithmetical  divisions  which,  at  a  certain  moment, 
replace  the  genetic  groupings,  when  he  recalls,  in  La  propriete  et 
ses  formes  primitives,  that  in  former  times  in  Russia 
every  member  of  the  society  must  enter  a  group  of  ten  (decanie),  which  had 
as  its  mission  the  defense  or  the  guarantee  of  all  in  general  and  of  each  in 
particular;  that  is  to  say,  it  was  the  function  of  the  group  of  ten  to  avenge 
the  citizen  who  belonged  to  it,  and  to  exact  the  wehrgeld,  if  he  had  been 
killed;   but  at  the  same  time  it  went  security  for  all  its  members. 

If  the  division  into  groups  of  ten  took  the  place  of  that  into  com- 
munities of  clans  or  of  tribes,  it  was  evidently  because  the  social 
frontiers  had  passed  beyond  those  of  the  tribes  and  the  clans 
whose  structure  was  broken  down.  The  inner  social  divisions  are 
always  correlated  with  the  general  structure  of  the  society  or  of 
the  state,  and  notably  with  that  of  its  frontiers. 

As  to  the  Russian  mir,  it  still  exists,  as  in  France  before  the 
Revolution  of  1789,  and  it  still  preserves  certain  village  communi- 
ties. The  mir  is  in  fact  the  village  commune,  formed  by  the 
descendants  of  the  same  family  group  of  nomads   who  have 


228  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

become  sedentary.  It  has  a  judicial  existence;  it  is  proprietor  of 
the  soil ;  its  members  enjoy  only  usufruct  or  temporary  possession ; 
it  is  governed  by  the  heads  of  families  assembled  in  council  under 
the  presidency  of  the  starosta,  or  mayor,  chosen  by  them. 

•  The  same  groupings,  with  the  same  delimitations,  are  met 
with  in  all  civilizations  at  the  same  stage  —  in  Egypt,  in  China,  in 
India,  in  Persia,  among  the  Semites,  and  the  Aryans,  Celtic, 
German,  and  Slavic.  This  internal  organization,  in  connection 
with  the  technique  and  the  modes  of  economic  circulation  and 
production,  always  corresponds  to  an  organization  adequate  to  the 
general  structure  of  the  societies,  and  notably  to  the  frontiers  which 
separate  them  from  other  societies. 

In  England,  in  the  early  centuries,  the  hundred  moot  was  the 
basis  of  the  social  organization,  as  the  assembly  for  local  govern- 
ment. Every  free  man  under  Canute  II  and  Edward  the  Confes- 
sor must  be  a  member  of  a  hundred  and  of  a  tything.  Ten 
similar  gylds  formed  a  hundred  (Stubbs).  Under  the  Prankish 
law  there  was  the  decanus  and  the  centenarius.  Under  the  Mero- 
vingians it  was  likewise  obligatory  that  every  free  man  should 
be  present  at  the  assemblies,  especially  of  centuries;  fines  were 
imposed  for  absence.  In  time  of  war  the  Germanic  peoples,  when 
no  other  bond  united  them,  formed  in  families,  and  in  companies 
under  chiefs.    These  German  chiefs  had  their  comites. 

Thus,  when  new  groupings  are  formed  no  longer  tending  to 
be  genetic,  these  new  internal  divisions  correspond  naturally  to  a 
larger  extension  of  the  frontiers. 

[To  be  continued] 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY 

THE  DEPENDENCE  OF  ETHICS  ON  NATURAL  SCIENCE,  AND  THE 
IMPORTANT  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  ETHICS  AS  PERSONAL 
EXPERIENCE    AND    ETHICS    AS    A    SOCIAL    PROFESSION 


PROFESSOR  ALFRED  H.  LLOYD 
The  University  of  Michigan 


It  is  a  very  commonplace  remark  that  with  each  new  event, 
or  at  least  with  each  new  important  event,  in  the  unfolding  of 
human  life  and  human  experience,  history  needs  to  be  rewritten. 
This  remark,  moreover,  however  commonplace,  applies  very 
forcibly  to  the  history  of  ethics.  Perhaps  in  the  case  of  ethics 
the  disturbing  event  is  psychology;  perhaps  it  is  biology;  per- 
haps it  is  sociology  or  anthropology;  perhaps  it  is  in  practical 
instead  of  theoretical  life,  if  the  two  may  ever  be  divorced ;  but, 
whatever  or  wherever  it  be,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  science 
of  ethics,  which  studies  the  phenomena  of  the  moral  life,  is  no 
longer  commonly  viewed,  or  even  commonly  defined  in  the 
books,  as  it  used  to  be,  and  that  the  standards  of  morality  in 
many  quarters  have  changed  in  significant  ways.  A  change  in 
the  definition  would  be  enough  to  call  for  a  new  history. 

And  so,  as  my  subject,  "Ethics  and  its  History,"  will  now 
suggest,  in  this  paper  it  is  my  purpose  to  indicate  what  I  con- 
ceive to  be  the  most  timely  definition  of  "ethics,"  and  then,  by 
use  of  an  important  distinction  between  ethics  as  real  personal 
experience  and  ethics  as  a  social  profession,  to  show,  through 
an  illustration  or  two,  how  in  the  history  of  ethics  the  definition 
has  been  exemplified.  To  use  history  as  an  illustration  in  this 
way  will  be  also  to  indicate  how  the  history  itself  should  be 
rewritten. 

If,  then,  after  the  manner  of  certain  mystics,  we  should  begin 
our  present  task  by  seeking  a  symbol  of  this  wonderful  thing 
which  so  glibly  we  are  wont  to  call  "  human  life,"  we  could  find 

229 


230  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

nothing  so  adequate  as  the  question-mark.  Stars,  crosses,  tri- 
angles, circles,  would  stand  for  something,  but  the  question- 
mark  would  tell  most;  nay,  it  seems  as  if  the  question-mark 
would  tell  all.  Since  life  began,  life  has  had  its  fundamental 
questions.  Moreover,  these  questions,  the  typically  philosophical 
questions  —  What  is  the  world?  What  am  I?  What  is  God? 
or,  How  do  I  have  knowledge  ?  What  ought  I  to  do  ?  and.  What 
may  I  hope  for?  —  these  questions,  in  spite  of  occasional  varia- 
tions in  form,  have  been,  on  the  whole,  as  constant  as  they  have 
been  perennial;  they  have,  indeed,  been  so  constant,  and  have 
so  truly  been  perennial,  in  their  nature  that  some  men,  through 
losing  sight  of  what  the  question  really  is,  have  even  denied  that 
philosophy  has  ever  had  or  ever  could  have  a  real  history.  Still, 
on  such  a  view  the  question-mark  could  hardly  be  a  suitable 
symbol  of  life;  and  as  for  the  nature  of  the  question  itself, 
instead  of  being  a  mere  collocation  of  words  followed  by  a  little 
curve,  snakelike  in  appearance  and  peculiarly  depressing  to  the 
dot  below  called  a  period,  it  is  a  real,  living  experience,  in  which 
all  the  interests  and  relations  of  the  inquirer  or  inquirers  are 
moving  with  power.  A  grammatical  form  is  always  dead;  it 
is  only  a  mummy,  revived  in  imagination  for  dramatic  or  rhetori- 
cal purposes;  and,  in  view  of  this  fact,  men  should  not  let  it 
or  its  constant  form  determine  their  ideas  of  history.  Who  sees 
only  the  formal  questions  or  the  equally  formal  answers  that 
have  been  deposited  through  the  centuries  by  the  course  of 
events,  should  hardly  expect  to  find  a  real  history  of  philosophy 
in  general,  or  of  any  of  its  special  branches. 

Of  the  question  in  general  still  more  needs  to  be  said  before 
we  can  turn  to  the  ethical  question,  which  is,  of  course,  our 
special  interest.  Thus,  it  seems  worth  remarking — though 
there  will  be  little  difference  of  opinion  in  the  matter  —  that 
life's  questions,  like  life's  experiences  at  large,  are  not  strictly 
departmental,  are  not  independent  of  each  other.  To  ask  any 
one  of  them  is  to  involve  all  the  others;  and,  equally,  to  an- 
swer any  one  is  to  involve  answers  to  all  the  others.  This  is, 
of  course,  a  familiar  fact  of  positive  history,  not  to  say  also  of 
general  personal  experience;  but  perhaps  it  has  not  always  been 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  23 1 

reflected  upon  to  the  appreciation  of  its  full  meaning;  to  the 
appreciation,  for  example,  of  the  intimacy  between,  What  ought 
to  be?  and.  What  really  is?  If,  however,  it  serves  here  only  to 
strengthen  the  idea  that  every  question  is  more  than  its  manifest, 
articulated  form,  enough  has  been  said.  Of  much  more  impor- 
tance is  the  following.  If  the  real  question  be  indeed  a  living 
experience,  in  which,  as  was  said,  all  the  interests  of  the  inquirer 
are  moving  with  power,  then,  in  a  certain  very  significant  way, 
every  question  must  determine  its  answer.  An  answer  cannot 
be  external  to  a  real  question  or,  more  fully,  to  the  condi- 
tions under  which  the  real  question  has  been  asked.  In  short, 
the  real  question  is  necessarily  what  is  known  as  a  "leading" 
question;  for  the  conditions  of  its  putting  determine  its  reply. 
Two  and  two  equal  what?  Given  certain  equations  containing 
X  and  y,  what  are  the  values  of  x  and  y  ?  Here,  very  obviously, 
we  have  leading  questions ;  they  are  leading  "  to  a  degree ;"  but 
they  are  not  different  in  kind  from  all  others.  I  was  once  in  the 
class  of  a  good  old  German  pedagogue,  whose  questions  were 
often  only  German  sentences  with  the  rising  inflection  at  the 
end  in  place  of  the  auxiliary  verb.  The  pupil  was  allowed  to 
reply  by  supplying  the  verb ;  in  German  not  a  very  difficult  mat- 
ter. Sunday-school  instruction  is  often  as  childlike.  Still,  except 
for  the  needlessly  light  exercise  required  of  the  pupils  in  these 
cases,  the  method  is  pedagog^cally  and  psychologically  sound. 
In  our  modem  laboratories  those  who  put  questions  to  nature  do 
so  only  by  arranging  their  experiments  in  such  a  way  that  the 
answer  is  bound  to  come  out  of  the  conditions  of  the  inquisitive 
experimentation,  not  out  of  the  proverbial  clear  sky.  Neither 
the  worst  of  pedagogues  nor  the  feeblest  of  investigators  makes 
inquiries  about  the  price  of  wheat,  given  the  cost  per  dozen  of 
Florida  oranges;  nor  about  the  effect  of  gravity  on  a  pound  of 
feathers,  granted  the  logical  correctness  of  Descartes'  famous 
argument  for  the  existence  of  God.  Even  their  questions  are 
leading  questions,  having  in  themselves,  as  they  are  formulated, 
the  answers  always  determined,  although,  of  course,  not  fully 
worked  out.  Answers  spring  from  questions  very  much  as  oaks 
from  acorns.     Who  is  not  enough  of  a  poet  to  hear  the  buried 


232  THE  AMERICAN  rOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

seed  ask  of  nature  what  it  really  is?  Who  is  not  enough  of  a 
psychologist  to  detect  in  every  formulated  question  a  movement 
toward  its  own  answer? 

And  in  another  way  every  real  question  is  a  leading  ques- 
tion. Thus  it  can  never  have  more  than  a  tentative  reply.  A 
reply  that  claimed  more  than  tentative  value,  than  the  value  of 
a  working  hypothesis,  would  betray  its  origin  most  shamefully. 
Nowhere  so  fully  as  in  modern  science  is  this  principle  recog- 
nized; it  belongs  to  scientific  etiquette  or  morality  —  which 
should  I  say  ?  Yet  not  in  science  alone  does  it  impose  its  responsi- 
bilities on  human  thinking.  Throughout  the  length  and  the 
breadth  of  human  experience,  answers  take  form  only  to  aid  in 
re-defining  the  old,  old  questions.  Like  oaks,  answers  are  valu- 
able only  because  they  are  not  final,  but  useful,  being  the  means  to 
further  life,  the  instruments  of  continued  inquiry.  So  is  the  peren- 
nial question  evidence  of  real  history,  not  evidence  against  it. 

These  three  things,  then,  I  have  wished  to  bring  to  mind  at 
the  beginning  of  this  paper :  ( i )  the  only  tentative  nature, 
which  is  also  to  say  the  really  historical  value,  of  the  answer  to 
any  question;  (2)  the  seedlike  character  of  every  question;  and 
(3)  the  intimate  dependence  at  once  of  all  questions,  and  all 
answers  —  especially  of,  What  ought  to  be?  and.  What  is?  — 
upon  each  other.  These  three  things  have  an  important  bearing 
upon  the  true  nature  of  ethics,  and  upon  the  proper  way  of  read- 
ing or  writing  the  history  of  ethics. 

Turning  now  to  the  consideration  of  the  ethical  question, 
the  question  which  ethical  theory  has  always  sought  to  answer, 
from  among  the  philosophical  questions  already  given  here  our 
selection  is  easy.  Thus,  personally,  what  ought  I  to  do?  Or, 
more  objectively,  man  being  what  he  is,  what  ought  man  to  do? 
What  is  the  ideal  life  of  a  human  being?  Such  is  the  ethical 
question,  and  it  sounds,  and  often  it  has  been  interpreted,  as  an 
inquiry  for  something  quite  apart  from  what  is,  from  what  is 
manifest  and  actual.  With  a  meaning  that  to  me  has  never  been 
altogether  intelligible,  although  I  remember  for  a  time  to  have 
received  it  as  somehow  highly  edifying,  ethics  is  often  called  a 
"normative"  science.    It  is  not  an  "objective"  science,  the  con- 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  233 

tention  runs ;  it  is  not  a  truly  "  scientific  "  science.  Ethics  would 
grasp  the  ideal  of  another  world,  not  the  real  of  this;  it  has  a 
causation  all  its  own;  a  living  creature  that  is  absolutely  sui 
generis;  even  a  validity  that  rests  ultimately  on  emotion  rather 
than  on  reason,  perhaps  on  spiritual  emotion,  perhaps  —  if  there 
be  any  difference,  and  this  if  is  a  point  frequently  in  controversy 
—  on  the  emotions  of  sense;  and,  besides  all  these,  ethics  has 
had  other  peculiarities  too  numerous  to  mention.  But,  after  all 
has  been  said,  the  fact  stands  out,  I  think,  that  the  real  appeal 
of  all  ethical  inquiry  has  been  sooner  or  later  to  the  world  of  the 
actual ;  or  say,  rather,  to  the  sciences  giving  report  of  that  world 
and  of  its  laws,  chiefly,  no  doubt,  to  the  anthropological  sciences, 
notably  psychology,  yet  in  some  measure  to  all  the  sciences,  even 
to  physics  and  astronomy;  and  for  my  part  it  is  hard  to  see 
where  else  ethical  inquiry  should  go  or  could  go.  Surely,  if 
life's  questions  are  dependent  on  each  other,  What  is?  and.  What 
ought  to  be?  among  the  rest;  and  if,  again,  any  real  question  is 
a  leading  one,  having  its  answer  in  the  actual  conditions  that 
have  given  it  rise,  any  other  appeal  would  be  unnatural.  And 
on  most  general  principles  it  simply  passes  my  comprehension 
how  what  is  ideal  can  ever  be  known  except  through  the  evidence 
of  what  is  actual.  Can  one's  moral  life  be  anything  more  than 
one's  real  life?  Can  there  be  any  ought  in  life  that  is  not  true 
to  the  conditions  of  life,  to  what  is  in  life?  If  so,  then,  among 
other  things,  the  use  that  ethical  inquirers  in  the  past  have 
undoubtedly  made,  although  often  with  much  parade  of  conde- 
scension, of  the  objective  sciences  is  only  one  more  sign  —  in 
quarters  where,  if  anywhere,  it  would  and  should  be  least 
expected  —  of  man's  remarkable  capacity  for  going  wrong. 

Yet  here  somebody  objects  vigorously  that,  in  spite  of  ethics' 
tise  of  the  objective  sciences,  its  history  in  general  is  far  from 
warranting  the  assertion  of  its  real  dependence  on  them.  Ethics 
in  history  has  always  been,  the  objector  declares,  a  search  after 
the  summum  bonum,  a  discussion  of  such  things  —  save  the 
mark!  —  as  duty,  pleasure,  happiness,  freedom,  and  the  like; 
and  its  occasional  use  of  the  objective  sciences  has  been  only  like 
the  Mad  Hatter's  use  of  figures  to  show  what  was  to  be  proved, 


234  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

not  to  prove  anything;  or  like  the  dogmatic  theologian's  dis- 
covery and  use  of  analogies  in  nature  to  establish  his  doctrines 
of  the  supernatural.  All  this  may  perhaps  for  a  time  save  the 
face  of  ethics  as  a  "normative"  science,  although  its  unhappy, 
yet  inevitable,  association  with  the  Mad  Hatter  or  the  analogy- 
of-religion-to-nature  theologian  must  bring  some  immediate  dis- 
comfiture; but  the  true  evidence  of  history  is  just  one  of  the 
questions  of  fact  that  have  been  raised  in  this  paper,  so  that  the 
case  of  our  vigorous  advocate  of  a  "  normative  "  ethics  in  history 
must  await  the  further  development  of  our  present  argument. 

Without  more  ado,  therefore,  I  am  constrained  to  define 
ethics,  not  as  the  science  of  what  ought  to  be,  nor  as  a  normative 
science  in  any  way  dealing  with  a  life  of  conformity  to  what  is 
ideal  as  opposed  to  the  real  or  actual,  nor  even  as  the  science  of 
moral  conduct;  for  these  are  all  misleading  definitions,  the  best 
of  them  too  much  hampered  by  certain  traditional  meanings  and 
sentiments;  but  almost  pragmatically  as  "science  of  practical 
life"^ — in  the  hope  perhaps  of  deepening  the  ideas  both  of 
science  and  of  what  is  truly  practical  —  or,  more  fully  and  with 
some  change  of  emphasis,  as  the  science  which  studies  and  inter- 
prets the  conditions  of  action  with  a  view  to  action.  So  defined, 
ethics  is  made,  to  the  satisfaction  of  everybody  I  think,  as  much 
art  as  science.  Also,  at  the  height  of  its  theoretical  or  scientific 
enthusiasm  it  may  appeal  to  a  complete  account  of  nature,  nature 
being — is  it  not?  —  only  the  totality  of  the  conditions  of  man's 
activity ;  or  —  more  practically,  at  least  in  the  opinion  of  most  — 
it  may  appeal  to  the  distinctly  anthropological  sciences,  such  as 
psychology,  sociology,  and  anthropology  in  the  narrower  sense; 
but  whichever  of  these  appeals  it  makes,  the  more  theoretical  or 
the  more  practical,  it  is  plainly  and  properly  depending  on  some- 
thing as  sound  and  basal  as  reality  for  its  determination  of  what 
ought  to  be.  A  demand,  in  short,  for  well-informed,  nay  for 
always  better-informed,  conduct,  and  a  conviction  that  conduct  is 
moral  or  ideal,  not  to  say  also  effective  or  practical,  only  as  it  is 
consciously  loyal  to  reality  —  such  is  ethics  now;  and  such  in 
effect,  if  not  always  clearly  in  its  own  conceit,  or  unwittingly,  if 

'  Vide  Fite,  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Ethics,  pp.  6  f. 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  235 

not  always  openly  and  consciously,  ethics  has  been  throughout 
history. 

As  study  of  the  conditions  of  action  with  a  view  to  action, 
ethics  is  plainly  in  accord  with  what  was  said  of  all  questions 
properly  being  leading  questions;  for  to  define  ethics  so  is  only 
to  say  in  a  special  way  that  the  answer  to  a  question  must  be 
found  in  just  those  things  which  have  given  the  question  its  rise 
and  determined  the  manner  of  its  putting.  Two  and  two  are 
what?  Two  and  two  are  four.  Man  ought  to  do  what?  Man 
ought  to  do,  only  more  simply  and  directly,  more  wisely  and 
more  effectively,  more  as  if  in  a  single  sum,  what  he  has  always 
been  doing.  Still,  let  us  now  turn  to  ethical  inquiry  in  history, 
and  see  how  there  our  present  view  of  ethics  has  been  exem- 
plified. 

Without  going  into  any  of  the  details  of  history,  whether  of 
the  history  of  the  Greeks  or  of  the  history  of  the  English,  by 
both  of  whom  peculiarly  significant  contributions  to  ethical  theory 
have  been  made,  it  is  safe  to  say,  without  fear  of  being  charged 
with  dogmatism,  that  the  inquiry.  What  ought  man  to  do?  has 
always  arisen  as  a  most  natural  incident  of  a  changing  life.  Has 
conduct  ever  become  problematic,  either  in  isolated  personal 
experience,  or  in  experience  involving  a  whole  class  or  a  whole 
people,  then  there  has  been  change  of  a  more  or  less  violent  and 
radical  sort ;  and  this  is  merely  to  say  that  the  ethical  question  — 
not  to  mention  what  may  be  true  of  the  other  questions  also — 
is  simply  an  incident  of  that  conflict,  typical  in  all  life,  between 
the  old  and  the  new ;  the  old  as  something  that,  because  most  cer- 
tainly having  a  part  in  what  is  real,  is  bound  to  survive,  and  the 
new  as  something  that,  because  with  equal  certainty  having  a 
I>art  in  what  is  real,  is  bound  in  its  turn  to  be  bom.  The  old  and 
the  new,  what  is  conservative  and  what  is  radical,  what  is 
formed  and  what  is  unformed,  law  and  license,  the  institution 
and  the  free  life,  reason  and  sense,  or  finally  man,  that  is,  civi- 
lized man,  and  nature — these,  in  their  natural  conflict,  each 
having  some  claim  to  recognition  —  else  there  would  be  no  real 
conflict  —  have  ever  given  rise  to  ethics;  and  these,  being  the 
formative  conditions  of  ethical  inquiry,  have  determined  also — 


236  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  question  itself,  remember,  being  a  leading  one  —  the  peculiar 
answers,  so  familiar  to  all  students  of  history,  of  duty  and  pleas- 
ure, or  loyalty  and  personal  desire,  given,  as  constantly  and  as 
perennially  as  the  question  has  been  asked,  by  idealism,  some- 
times more  characteristically  called  rigorism,  and  hedonism. 

That  duty  and  pleasure,  as  moral  ideals  given  in  apparent 
answers  to  the  question  of  ethics,  correspond  to  the  two  conflict- 
ing interests,  the  old  and  the  new,  which  have  aroused  the  ques- 
tion itself,  can  hardly  need  any  special  explanation;  but  the  fact 
itself  is  full  of  significance,  as  will  very  speedily  appear.  First, 
however,  finding  in  duty  the  appropriate  ideal  of  conservatism, 
we  must  observe  several  things,  and  among  them  that  conserva- 
tism cannot  assert  itself  without  becoming  at  once  supernatural- 
istic.  Man  cannot,  after  the  manner  of  the  conservative,  treat 
his  institutions,  the  established  forms  and  tenets  of  his  life,  as 
having  intrinsic  worth,  without  in  just  so  far  ascribing  to  them 
a  more  than  natural  authority.  No  doubt,  too,  there  is  a  peculiar 
justice,  intensely  interesting  to  anyone  studying  the  logic  of  his- 
tory, in  the  fact  that,  with  important  changes  and  the  ensuing 
assertion  of  conservativism,  the  idea  of  sanctions  from  another 
world,  always  darkly  suggestive  of  something  new,  of  something 
to  come,  should  get  possession  of  the  minds  and  hearts  of  men; 
but,  the  justice  and  the  logic  of  it  aside,  certainly  nothing  is 
more  pertinent  to  the  conflict  of  the  time.  Think  but  a  moment 
how  the  doctrine  of  the  divine  right  of  kings  did  not  precede, 
but  grew  out  of,  the  conflict  between  monarchy  and  democracy 
in  early  modem  times,  and  you  will  have  an  excellent  illustration 
of  the  point  here  under  discussion.  Conservatism  in  any  form 
must  be  dogmatic,  and  its  necessary  dogmatism  makes  it  super- 
naturalistic.  Hence  its  ideal,  duty,  has  always  been  as  if  imposed 
from  without,  as  if  having  power  and  right  from  another  world. 
Moreover,  on  the  other  hand,  if  duty  is  thus  a  supernatural  visitor, 
pleasure,  the  appropriate  ideal  of  radicalism,  is  infra-natural, 
carrying  its  devotee  below  the  bounds  of  what  can  be  natural  to 
any  living  creature.  Most  surely  mere  pleasure  is  quite  as  far 
from  what  is  natural  as  abstract  duty.  "  Seek  pleasure,"  as  the 
principle  of  conduct,  is  neither  more  nor  less  practical  than,  "Do 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  237 

what  you  do  only  for  duty's  sake."  Both  are  unworldly;  both, 
to  devise  a  word  free  from  any  invidious  distinctions,  are  extra- 
natural.^ 

Nor  is  the  extra-naturalism  the  only  thing  to  be  said  here  of 
rigorism  and  hedonism.  Their  ideals,  besides  being  other-world 
visitors,  are  also  bound  to  be  formal  and  empty.  Perhajys  other- 
world  visitors  must  always  have  this  ghostly  character;  but  duty 
and  pleasure  as  ideals  are  unavoidably  possessed  with  it.  Duty 
may,  indeed,  be  the  appropriate  exhortation  of  the  conservative, 
but  just  in  being  made  an  ideal  it  becomes  generalized.  Can  a 
man  teach  or  preach  patriotism  to  the  American  people  without 
making  patriotism  apparent  to  them  as  something  broader  and 
deeper  than  devotion  to  their  own  country;  without,  perhaps, 
illustrating  his  theme  by  the  history  of  other  peoples;  in  short, 
without  making  the  Americans  cosmopolitan  even  while  he  would 
make  them  patriotic?  Can  a  man  urge  loyalty  to  a  particular 
creed  without  raising  loyalty  itself,  say  loyalty  to  any  creed  what- 
soever, higher  than  the  creed  in  question  ?  Can  a  man,  then,  bid 
his  fellows  to  do  their  duty,  even  though  he  has  in  mind  very 
definite  things  that  he  wishes  done,  without  extolling  duty  in  the 
abstract  above  the  particular  things?  Again,  pleasure  may  be 
the  appropriate  ideal  of  radicalism;  but  just  in  being  made 
an  ideal  it,  too,  becomes  generalized.  A  man  may  be  a  con- 
stant devotee  of  pleasure,  as  reckless  and  lawless  and  unconven- 
tional as  you  please;  but  let  someone  come  to  him  and  say: 
"Now  be  just  what  you  are;  make  this  pleasure-life  your  ideal 
life;  raise  your  very  appropriate  standard  where  it  can  be  seen 
of  men  and  live  under  it;"  and  at  once,  if  he  takes  heed,  he  is 
thrown  quite  off  his  feet.  From  having  the  form  of  something 
good  to  eat,  or  an  interesting  novel,  or  a  visit  to  the  theater,  his 
pleasure  has  suddenly  flown  from  the  present  things  of  this 
world  and  become  an  ideal  without  any  determinable  character. 

'  Thus  "  extra-natural  "  is  a  generic  term  intended  to  include  "  supernatural  " 
and  "  infra-natural."  As  to  the  invidious  distinction  involved  in  the  application 
of  these  opposed  terms,  for  my  part  I  do  not  care  whether  duty  or  pleasure  is 
called  supernatural.  According  to  Paley,  Christianity  would  view  pleasure  so ; 
and,  in  any  case,  the  opposition  of  the  two,  of  the  super-  and  the  infra-natural, 
is  the  only  significant  factor. 


238  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

To  seek  it,  just  as  to  do  only  what  is  duty,  is  to  try  to  shake 
hands  with  an  intangible,  invisible,  wholly  insensible  spirit. 
Pleasure,  then,  and  duty,  although  the  pertinent  ideals  of  radi- 
calism and  conservatism,  are  evidently  only  pure  principles  or 
spirits  of  life;  they  are  not,  and  as  ideals  they  cannot  be,  pro- 
grams for  life.  The  hedonism  and  the  rigorism,  which  advocate 
them,  have  no  choice  but  to  say,  as  they  defend  their  standpoints : 
"We  mean  not  the  program,  but  the  principle;  not  the  letter, 
which  is  apparently  associated  with  our  life,  but  the  spirit."  "Not 
the  letter,  but  the  spirit,"  has  ever  been  the  last  fortress,  the  inner 
citadel,  of  extra-naturalism  in  any  form. 

And  not  only  do  we  need  here  to  observe  that  duty  and 
pleasure  are  extra-natural,  and  that  they  both  have  the  merely 
formal  character  of  abstract  principles;  but  also  we  need  to 
remind  ourselves  that  they  are  opposed,  and  that  accordingly 
they  do  but  repeat  or  continue  the  conflict  out  of  which  the  ethi- 
cal question,  that  one  or  the  other  of  them  is  supposed  to  answer, 
has  sprung.  We  need  to  remind  ourselves  of  this  fact  of  their 
opposition,  because,  taken  in  connection  with  their  extra- 
naturalism  and  their  purely  formal  character,  it  shows,  as  per- 
haps nothing  else  could,  the  real  significance  of  their  relation  to 
the  interests  of  the  conflicting  old  and  new.  It  shows,  in  a  word, 
that  they  afford  no  real  settlement  of  the  ethical  problem.  Can 
what  is  extra-natural,  formal,  and  never  without  an  opponent 
having  equal  demands,  ever  really  answer  such  a  practical  ques- 
tion as  that  of  ethics?  What  ought  man  to  do?  Can  the  con- 
clusive solution  of  any  problem  come  from  either  one  of  the 
parties  to  the  conflict  that  is,  or  that  makes,  the  problem  ? 

Evidently,  in  the  genesis  of  ethical  theory,  rigorism  and 
hedonism  alike  belong  to  the  class  of  doctrines,  or  intellectual 
formulations,  commonly  known  as  apologetics.  They  are  char- 
acteristically e,r  parte ;  they  are  one-sided,  then,  and  so  dogmatic ; 
they  are  extra-naturalistic.  Their  opposition,  too,  makes  them 
apologetic  or  on  the  defensive.  Perhaps  all  formulations  of 
doctrine,  particularly  of  philosophical  doctrine,  arising  no  doubt 
under  similar  or  even  under  the  same  conditions,  are  apologetic 
on  all  these  counts;     but,  be  this  as  it  may,  with  the  general 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  239 

principle  we  are  not  now  concerned.  Sufficient  unto  the  moment 
is  the  conclusion  that  rigorism  and  hedonism  are  apologetic  in 
character,  and  are  in  consequence,  just  as  much  of  what  has 
been  said  already  has  suggested,  necessarily  abstract  and  artifi- 
cial, impractical  and,  so  far  as  satisfying  ethical  interest,  alto- 
gether inadequate,  being  in  themselves,  whether  singly  or 
collectively,  no  intelligible  indication  of  zvhat  man  ought  to  do. 
Perhaps  their  formal  abstract  character,  their  common  innocence 
of  any  positive  applicability,  reduces  to  a  minimum,  or  even  to 
zero,  the  opprobrium  of  their  partisanship  and  opposition;  but 
they  are  not  on  that  account  answers  to  the  important  question, 
although,  as  will  hereafter  appear,  taken  together  they  may  make 
a  sort  of  mold,  into  which  the  desired  answer  can  be  put.  They 
may  make  a  mold ;  but  as  yet  we  must  see  this  mold  as  quite  with- 
out content,  save  for  the  opposition  or  tension  between  the  two 
parts. 

And  the  opposition  or  tension  between  the  two  parts  is  only 
the  ethical  question  over  again,  but  defined  in  terms  of  the 
demands  which  the  conditions  of  its  rise  and  articulation  have  put 
upon  the  answer.  The  questioner  finds  himself  standing  between 
two  principles,  whose  opposition  has  made  his  question ;  and  we 
may  imagine  him  to  say  first  to  the  rigorist :  "  Yes,  there  is  that 
I  ought  to  do;"  and  then  to  the  hedonist:  "Life  must,  indeed, 
bring  pleasure,  else  it  is  surely  not  for  me;  but  how  does  either 
of  these  things  satisfy  my  hunger  for  what  is  concrete?  Your 
duty  and  your  pleasure  are  only  the  formal  demands  that  must 
be  met  together  and  equally  before  my  hunger  can  be  appeased. 
You  say  they  may  not  be  mingled ;  but"  I  know  their  mingling  is 
just  what  my  problem  is;  and  if  you  have  nothing  more  to  ofifer 
except  a  choice  of  the  two  things,  both  of  which  I  must  have  to 
really  solve  my  difficulty,  then  I  must  simply  thank  you  for  telling 
me  so  well  what  my  problem  is,  and  loc4c  elsewhere  for  its 
answer." 

With  this  speech  from  the  ethical  inquirer  for  a  minute  or 
two  let  us  leave  the  field  of  ethics,  and,  for  the  sake  of  an  illustra- 
tion, turn  to  that  of  natural  science,  which  for  the  time  being 
we  may  assume  to  be  quite  independent.    The  scientific  question 


240  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

is  this :  What  is  nature  ?  Now,  I  can  hardly  say  between  its 
Hnes,  but  behind  its  three  words,  this  question,  just  because  of  the 
circumstances  in  experience  that  have  brought  it  into  expression, 
involves  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  problem  of  finding  some- 
thing that  is  both  a  thing  and  a  law,  both  substantial  and  ideal. 
The  question  raises  the  issue  of  nature's  law,  presupposing  her 
abstract  lawfulness ;  and  of  her  substance,  presupposing  from  the 
start  her  substantiality ;  so  that,  as  was  said,  the  real  difficulty  to 
be  met  is  to  determine  what  nature  is  as  both  law  and  substance. 
In  other  words,  the  distinction  between  law  and  substance,  or 
mind  and  matter,  is  exactly  like  that  between  duty  and  pleasure; 
a  distinction,  in  the  first  place,  arising  with,  or  involved  in,  the 
putting  of  the  question;  and,  in  the  second  place,  both  showing 
the  question  to  be  a  very  real  one,  and  marking  the  demands  neces- 
sarily imposed  upon  the  answer.  Can  a  mere  theory  or  a  mere 
formula,  however  high  or  strong  mathematically,  answer  the 
question?  Or  can  a  brute  force  answer  the  question?  No; 
the  only  acceptable  answer  lies  in  something  concrete  that 
is  both  law  and  force;  say,  for  example,  in  a  machine, 
in  an  effective  application  of  the  theoretical  to  the  physical  and 
substantial.  The  method  of  science  today  —  so  dependent  on 
experimentation  and  on  the  mechanical  devices  of  experimenta- 
tion, and  in  this  dependence  so  incapable  of  confining  itself  within 
its  laboratories,  its  successful  applications  there  passing  out  into 
practical  life  —  shows  this  very  clearly.  Once  more,  then,  like 
the  case  of  science  is  the  case  of  ethics.  As  the  real  solution  of 
the  scientific  problem  must  lie  in  something  concrete  that  is  both 
law  and  substance,  so  the  real  solution  of  the  ethical  problem  must 
lie  and  in  the  past  always  has  lain,  in  something  concrete  uniting 
both  duty  and  pleasure,  satisfying  the  demand  of  one  for  order 
in  life,  and  of  the  other  for  vital  interest  and  delight. 

Now,  what  may  this  something  concrete,  this  veritable 
summuni  bonum  of  the  ethical  consciousness,  be?  How  may 
inquiring  man  attain  to  it?  How  in  the  past  has  he  attained  to 
it  ?  These  are  now  our  queries.  Rigorism  and  hedonism  having 
been  weighed  in  the  balance  and,  except  for  their  part  in  formu- 
lating the  ethical  problem,  found  wanting,  we  must  ourselves 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  24I 

search  for  what  they  have  proved  unable  to  provide.  By  reply- 
ing to  an  objection,  moreover,  that  has  for  some  time  been  press- 
ing for  attention,  we  shall  find  ourselves  well  on  our  way  in  this 
search. 

The  objection,  strangely  enough,  is  again  in  the  form  of  an 
appeal  to  history.  Thus  the  objector  asserts  that  history  shows 
unmistakably  how  the  ideals  of  duty  and  pleasure  have  been 
more  than  the  pure  abstractions  with  which  they  have  been  iden- 
tified here;  how  they  have  been,  not  merely  the  inspiration  of 
philosophical  systems,  positively  and  concretely  interesting  to 
scores  of  thinkers,  but  also  the  avowed  standards  and  programs 
.of  whole  classes  of  society  in  practical  life.  Also,  apart  from 
the  evidence  of  history,  we  are  told  that  both  have  their  devotees 
now.  History,  however,  is  much  too  easily  read  by  many  people, 
the  present  objector  among  them.  Whether  in  reading  history 
or  in  reading  the  life  of  the  present  time,  it  is  a  very  serious 
error  to  take  any  character  that  determines  a  distinct  social 
class  for  evidence  of  a  well-rounded,  self-sufficient  experience,  or. 
say,  for  a  true  unity  of  experience.  From  the  social  distinction 
between  conservatives  and  radicals,  and  again  between  those 
who  follow  duty  and  those  who  follow  pleasure;  between  the 
rigorists,  whether  in  practice  or  in  theory,  and  the  hedonists,  the 
historian  has  no  right  to  deduce  two  separate,  self-sufficient 
modes  of  life,  or  two  independent,  and  accordingly  satisfactory, 
solutions  of  the  problem  of  ethics.  The  conditions  of  the  rise 
of  that  problem,  and  their  demands  upon  the  solution  of  it,  hold 
quite  as  forcibly  for  social  as  for  personal  experience.  Conserva- 
tives and  radicals,  rigorists  and  hedonists,  as  forever  at  war 
with  each  other,  exhibit,  not  distinct  wholes  or  unities  of  experi- 
ence, but  only  the  social  or  phylogenetic  expression  of  the  very 
conflict  that  dwells  within  the  fact  of  their  being  in  any  form, 
personal  or  social,  ontogenetic  of  phylogenetic.  such  a  thing  as 
ethical  inquiry.  It  is  true  that  distinct  social  characters  have  so 
commonly  been  regarded  as  meaning  wholly  distinct  things  — 
wholly  distinct  sorts  of  people,  for  example,  or  modes  of  life  or 
views  of  conduct  —  that  the  present  view,  while  not  at  all  novel 
in  some  quarters,  is  sure  to  meet  with  considerable  resistance; 


242  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

but  the  arguments  which  have  brought  us  where  we  are,  and 
which  would  make  us  read  both  the  past  and  the  present  in  our 
own  way,  seem  unassailable.  Whether  we  have  been  thinking 
of  inquiry  or  of  the  answer  to  inquiry,  or  of  any  other  incident 
in  experience,  we  have  been  dealing  with  something  that  may  be 
said  to  be  superior  to  the  distinction  between  what  is  personal 
and  what  is  social.  There  can  be  no  personal  experience  with- 
out its  large-written  expression  in  society.  There  can  be  no  social 
divisions  or  distinctions  that  are  not  within  every  individual 
person.  In  short,  for  all  the  incidents  of  human  experience  the 
personal  and  the  social  are  so  intimate  with  each  other  that, 
though  the  distinguishing  characters  which  determine  social 
classes  may  make  professions,  they  cannot  make,  and  should  not 
be  interpreted  as  making,  such  wholes  of  experience  as  belong  to 
personality.  Society,  the  social  environment,  is  only  the  writing 
on  the  wall  of  personal  life.  The  social  professions  —  conserva- 
tism and  radicalism,  rigorism  and  hedonism  among  the  rest  — 
only  show  society  as  a  whole  dividing  the  labor  of  maintaining 
socially  the  same  unity  of  human  experience  that  belongs  to  the 
life  of  every  individual  person. 

This  distinction  between  the  profession,  as  the  basis  of  class 
distinctions  in  society,  and  the  unity  of  experience  as  to  be  found 
only  in  either  society  as  a  whole  or  the  personal  individual,  is  a 
very  important  one.^  It  suggests  what  the  real  function  of  society 
may  be.  Thus  the  professions  of  the  many  social  classes,  by  the 
specialism  which  their  division  of  the  labor  of  experience  makes 
possible,  are  of  incalculable  value  to  the  individual.  I  have  called 
society  the  writing  on  the  wall.  It  is  also,  through  the  specialism 
of  its  different  professional  classes,  the  individual  as  seen  under 
a  microscope,  each  phase  of  his  life  being  professionally  sepa- 
rated from  the  rest,  and  exaggerated  or  magnified  for  public 
scrutiny  many  diameters.  Every  individual,  too,  is  bound  to 
have  his  professional  associations,  so  that  he  is  sure  in  some 

'  For  other  discussions  of  this  distinction  see  two  articles,  "  History  and 
Materialism,"  American  Historical  Review,  July,  1905,  and  "The  Personal  and 
the  Factional  in  Social  Life,"  Journal  of  Philosophy,  Psychology  and  Scientific 
Method,  July  6,  1905.  These  articles  were  written  some  months  later  than  this 
present  one,  which  the  accidents  of  publication  have  delayed. 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  243 

measure  to  reap  the  advantages  of  the  peculiar  labor  of  the  social 
life,  of  the  writing  on  the  wall,  of  the  microscopic  exposure ;  but 
—  and  this  brings  us  back  to  our  special  interest  —  no  profession, 
no  social  affiliation,  has  ever,  in  and  of  itself  made  a  well- 
rounded  experience,  a  unity  of  experience  for  any  personal  indi- 
vidual. The  individual's  profession  is  more  safely  viewed  as  his 
environment,  or  at  least  as  a  part,  of  course  the  less  remote  part, 
of  his  environment,  with  reference  to  which  he  has  his  truly 
personal  experience.  Thus,  society  may  be  divided  professionally 
into  honest  men  and  thieves;  and  however  dishonest  the  thieves 
may  be  professionally,  it  is  proverbially  true  that  personally 
honor  dwells  among  thieves;  and  however  honest  the  honest 
men  may  be  professionally,  it  is  true,  though  perhaps  not  pro- 
verbial, that  thieving  has  as  often  used  the  laws  as  broken  them. 
Think,  too,  of  the  intense  party  fealty  among  radicals,  of  the  arbi- 
trariness of  conservatism,  of  the  current  leisure  of  labor  and  the 
labor  of  capital,  and  you  will  get  the  meaning  here.  No  profes- 
sion settles  personal  life  one  way  or  the  other.  No  profession 
relieves  the  individual  of  that  from  which  it  seems  itself  to  stand 
aloof.  In  short,  all  the  differences  and  conflicts  of  life  belong 
within  the  unity  of  experience,  so  that  no  mere  class  affiliation 
can  ever  solve  any  problem  —  be  it  ethical,  religious,  political, 
or  what  you  will  —  in  human  experience. 

Accordingly,  the  evidence  of  history,  or  of  the  social  life  at 
the  present  time,  can  really  give  no  support  to  the  objection  that 
was  raised.  Conservatives  and  radicals,  rigorists  and  hedonists, 
in  human  society  only  show  the  professional  development  of  the 
ethical  question  as  still  a  question.  They  emphasize,  by  their 
natural  magnification,  the  demands  that  the  conditions  under 
which  the  question  arises  make  upon  the  answer;  they  do  not 
give  an  answer  themselves.  They  only  tempt  the  ethical  inquirer 
to  say  again :  "  If  you  have  nothing  more  to  offer  except  a 
choice  of  two  things,  both  of  which  I  must  have  really  to 
solve  my  difficulty,  then  I  must  simply  thank  you  for  telling  me 
so  well  what  my  problem  is,  and  look  elsewhere  for  its  answer." 

Looking  elsewhere  for  the  answer,  for  that  something  con- 
crete which,   by  uniting  both  duty  and  pleasure,   will  be  the 


244  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

veritable  summum  bonum  of  the  ethical  consciousness,  means, 
socially,  as  what  has  just  been  said  above  would  indicate,  and  as 
the  historian  should  make  a  point  of  remembering,  to  appeal 
for  help  from  the  professional  rigorists  and  hedonists  to  the 
profession  of  natural  science;  and  it  means,  personally,  to  sup- 
plement sentiment  about  duty  or  pleasure  with  a  careful  study  of 
the  situation.  After  all  that  has  been  said  above,  it  may  not  be 
necessary  to  say  here  that  science  as  a  profession  is  to  be  distin- 
guished from  science  as  a  personal  experience;  but,  whether 
professional  or  personal,  it  is  study  of  the  conditions  of  action. 
Its  professional  expression  may  search  life  more  broadly  and 
more  deeply;  it  may  be  protected  by  the  esprit  de  corps  of  the 
class  that  has  assumed  its  special  labor;  and,  just  because  of  its 
greater  breadth  and  depth,  and  because  of  its  being  the  standard 
of  a  distinct  class,  it  may  be  slow  to  get  application  in  real  life; 
but  none  of  these  things  affects  its  ultimate  use  in  life  or  its 
real  relation  to  life.  Personal  or  socially  professional,  as  was 
said,  it  is  always  scrutiny  of  the  situation;  it  is  study  of  environ- 
ment as  comprising  the  conditions  of  action ;  and  it  has  an  impor- 
tant part  in  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  conduct. 

So  are  we  once  more  reminded  of  our  definition  of  ethics : 
study  of  the  conditions  of  action  with  a  view  to  action.  If  class 
characters  could  be  taken  for  wholes  of  experience,  ethics  might 
still  keep  itself  aloof  from  such  study,  or  resort  to  such  study  only 
in  the  Mad  Hatter's  or  the  analogy-of-religion-to-nature  theo- 
logian's condescending  way;  it  might  be  self-contained  and  self- 
sufficient  in  its  devotion  to  its  abstract  extra-naturalistic  ideals, 
depending  for  the  zest  of  its  pursuits  only  on  the  brilliant  con- 
tests between  its  two  great  parties ;  it  might  boast  itself  literally 
a  science  of  the  ideal,  a  "  normative  "  science,  a  science  with  its 
own  peculiar  methods  and  criteria;  and  its  historian  might  busy 
himself  only  with  the  rigorists  here  and  the  hedonists  there,  as 
they  play  at  their  unending  logomachies,  in  his  historical  explana- 
tions turning  to  science  and  to  other  factors  in  the  contemporary 
life  of  society,  very  much  as  a  would-be  poet  sometimes  uses 
metaphors,  only  for  their  ornamental  and  hit-or-miss  illustrative 
value;   but  the  class-character  never  is  a  whole  of  experience, 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  245 

and  before  this  simple  fact  the  entire  fabric  of  a  self-sufficient, 
"normative,"  ideal-bartering  ethics,  with  its  peculiar  history, 
and  its  many  other  conceits  about  causation,  a  living  creature 
sui  generis,  and  the  rest,  goes  hopelessly  to  pieces.  Professional 
ethics  has  its  place,  and  its  important  place,  in  the  life  of  society ; 
its  more  or  less  technical  doctrines  of  duty  and  pleasure  have 
very  naturally  aided  society;  yet,  with  all  due  allowance  for  pro- 
fessional etiquette  and  privilege,  for  the  value  of  professional 
jealousy  and  exclusiveness,  it  is,  after  all,  like  any  other  pro- 
fession, in  constant  need  of  remembering  that  its  conceits  do  not 
justify  dogmas,  and  that,  in  spite  of  its  name  and  good  inten- 
tions, even  morally  it  is  not  —  with  apologies  for  the  phrase  — 
the  whole  thing. 

But  somebody  now  reminds  me  that  the  argument  of  this 
paper  is  still  defective,  and  defective  in  a  very  important  point. 
How  science  as  study  of  the  conditions  of  action  really  meets  the 
natural  demands  of  the  ethical  question  by  supplying  that  "  some- 
thing concrete  uniting  both  duty  and  pleasure,"  has  not  yet  been 
made  evident.  To  this  special  point,  then,  I  must  turn  in  con- 
clusion. Thus,  science,  whether  personal  or  professional,  meets 
the  demands  of  ethics,  first,  through  what  it  reveals;  second, 
through  the  methods  it  employs ;  and,  third,  through  the  attitude 
it  inculcates;  or  let  me  say  through  its  message,  through  its 
institutions,  and  through  its  spirit. 

As  to  the  message  of  science,  its  peculiar  ethical  worth,  its 
reconciliation  of  duty  and  pleasure,  lies  in  the  fact  that,  whatever 
restraints  it  imposes,  it  assumes  from  beginning  to  end  that  the 
ideal  dwells  in  the  real.  Is  life  so  simple  a  thing  as  a  race? 
Very  well;  you  are  racing,  with  all  the  zest  of  the  life  that  is 
within  you,  across  the  hills  and  fields.  Suddenly,  as  you  break 
through  a  thicket,  a  brook  confronts  you,  and  you  stop  abruptly. 
What  are  you  to  do?  You  only  half  articulate  the  question  to 
yourself ;  you  run  up  and  down,  partly  from  mere  force  of  habit, 
partly  to  vary  your  view;  with  a  careful  eye  you  measure  this 
distance  and  that,  the  position  of  a  stump  or  a  stone,  the  depth 
of  the  water,  perhaps  even  the  force  of  the  current;  and  then, 
the  looking  and  trying  over,  you  almost  surprise  even  yourself 


246  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

with  a  leap,  let  me  believe  a  successful  leap;  and  on  you  go, 
living  as  before,  only  more  alive  than  ever  for  the  success.  In 
that  moment  of  the  looking  and  trying  before  leaping  you  were 
a  scientist;  not  professionally,  it  is  true,  for  you  were  in  no 
laboratory,  and  had  no  carefully  selected  material,  and  were 
without  instruments  of  precise  measurement;  but  nevertheless 
personally  and  vitally.  Out  of  just  such  looking  and  trying 
before  leaping,  moreover,  the  social  profession  of  science,  with 
all  its  instruments  and  its  methods,  has  been  developed.  You 
were  a  scientist,  then;  and  what  your  science  taught  you  was 
just  what,  runner  that  you  were,  you  both  ought  to  do  and  most 
decidedly  would  do.  The  study  of  the  conditions  of  action  mani- 
fested in  the  course  of  action  —  which  is  exactly  what  science 
is  when  stripped  of  its  professional  disguises  —  always  reveals 
at  once  an  ought  and  a  would,  a  duty  and  a  pleasure;  and  it 
reveals  these,  moreover,  in  a  thoroughly  concrete  way,  finding 
the  ideal  only  in  what  is  real  and  manifest. 

The  methods  and  instruments  of  science,  secondly,  show  how 
science  meets  the  inquiry  of  ethics  with  something  concrete 
uniting  both  duty  and  pleasure.  Science  is,  above  all  else,  experi- 
mentation ;  it  is  trying  as  well  as  looking  before  leaping ;  and  in 
the  methods  and  instruments  it  employs,  be  they  the  rules  of 
thumb  and  the  crude  tools  of  ordinary  experience,  or  the  care- 
ful methods  and  precise  instruments  of  professionally  trained 
investigation,  he  who  runs  can  read  loyalty  without  bondage  to 
the  old,  and  regard  without  abandon  to  the  new.  Experimenta- 
tion, whether  in  the  science  of  direct  personal  interest  or  in  pro- 
fessional science,  deals,  of  course,  with  the  concrete,  and  this 
besides;  it  is  plainly  as  conservative  as  it  is  radical,  relying  on 
its  past  for  the  methods  and  instruments  with  which  it  achieves 
its  future,  and  even  taking  these  very  methods  and  instruments 
up  into  the  achievement  and  making  them  vitally  a  part  of  it.  Is 
not  every  experiment  as  much  a  test  of  the  means  employed  as 
of  the  particular  objects  experimented  upon?* 

Earlier  in  the  course  of  this  paper  the  demand  of  natural 

*  On  the  conservatism  of  pure  science,  see  an  article,  "  Some  Unscientific 
Reflections  upon  Science,"  Science,  July  2,  1902. 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY         '  247 

science  for  something  that  is  both  substantial  and  ideal,  both  a 
thing  and  a  law,  was  referred  to,  and  the  suggestion  was  then 
made  that  this  demand  was  always  answered  in  a  machine,  that 
is,  in  an  efficient  application  of  the  theoretical  —  the  looking  — 
to  the  physical  and  substantial  —  the  leaping.  Now,  such  a 
machine  has  many  names  in  human  life,  depending  on  the  par- 
ticular relations  it  may  assume.  Such  a  machine  is  anything 
that  is  practically  serviceable  or  useful  to  the  maintenance  of 
life's  activities.  Allowing  a  certain  amount  of  abstraction,  which 
any  particular  relation,  indeed,  always  implies,  we  may  see  it  in 
some  subjective  or  in  some  objective  form,  or  again  we  may  see 
it  as  directly  a  utility  of  a  personal  life  or  as  a  social  utility. 
Thus,  socially,  when  viewed  subjectively  —  that  is,  with  reference 
to  the  standpoint  of  science,  or  of  any  other  profession  for  that 
matter  —  it  is  an  established  method,  or  the  accepted  instruments, 
of  observation  and  expression;  and  when  viewed  objectively, 
it  is  the  instituted  life  as  a  whole,  as  the  total  social  environ- 
ment of  the  different  professional  activities;  while,  personally, 
when  viewed  subjectively,  itjs  a  developed  habit,  even  what  we 
sometimes  call  a  character,  or  the  immediate  conditions  and 
instruments  of  personal  life,  including  peculiarities  of  dress,  lan- 
guage, and  the  like,  which  are  so  much  more  truly  subjective  than 
objective;  and,  when  viewed  objectively,  it  is,  first,  the  profes- 
sional life,  in  which  as  member  of  a  class  the  individual  has  his 
more  or  less  mechanical  part,  and  then  the  outer  environment  as 
a  whole.  Under  whatever  name  or  form  it  appears,  however,  it 
certainly  stands  for  something  concrete,  for  something  that  is 
as  concrete  as  life  and  the  conditions  of  life;  and  in  bringing 
both  order  and  freedom  into  natural  human  activity  it,  in  just 
so  far,  meets  the  two  demands  of  the  question  of  ethics.  It 
both  is  satisfying  and,  because  experimental  or  mediative,  is  an 
earnest  of  something  yet  more  satisfying.  Since  life  began, 
thanks  to  its  habit  of  both  looking  and  trying  before  leaping,  no 
one  of  the  instruments  of  its  activity  has  failed  to  lead  to  a 
worthier,  more  efficient  exemplar  of  itself;  and  a  life  with  instru- 
ments that  have  thus  had  part  in  their  own  making,  and  that 


248  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

must  continue  to  make  improvements  upon  themselves,  is  both 
dutiful  and  pleasant. 

My  point,  possibly  not  yet  clear,  is  just  this.  Science  has  its 
message,  its  doctrinal  formulae,  its  discovered  knowledge  about 
the  world  in  which  we  live,  and  through  this  message  it  serves 
ethical  inquiry  in  a  practical  way,  supplying  something  actual 
and  concrete,  imparting  realistic  information,  but  it  has  also 
more  than  this  and  serves  life  in  another  way.  Indeed,  knowledge 
itself,  or  information,  or  consciousness  generally,  is  not  some- 
thing we  simply  have  about  us,  as  we  have  money  in  our  pockets 
or  treasures  on  a  shelf ;  it  is  functional,  or  organic,  to  our  whole 
nature.  Thus,  besides  standing  for  intellectual  discoveries  it 
stands  also  for  the  development  of  acquired  activities  into  appre- 
ciated powers  or  instruments,  the  aforesaid  "  instruments  of  sci- 
ence." These  instruments,  too,  are  not  merely  those  to  be  found 
in  a  laboratory;  they  comprise  also  the  various  developed  condi- 
tions of  social  and  personal  life.  Thus,  there  is  psychological  or 
sociological  as  well  as  historical  significance  in  the  fact  that  an 
age  of  scientific  investigation  is  always  an  age  of  conventionalism 
and  utilitarianism,  an  age,  then,  in  which  forms,  rites,  conditions 
of  personal  and  social  organization,  are  becoming  mere  utilities, 
just  as  there  is  psychological,  not  merely  biographical  significance 
in  the  fact  that  any  individual,  turned  reflective  and  studious, 
leads  a  life  in  the  world  of  things  and  aflFairs,  a  practical  life,  that 
is  perfunctory  and  mechanical,  or,  in  other  words,  only  instru- 
mental. An  age  of  science,  then,  is  one  in  which  life's  developed 
activities,  or  modes  of  special  organization,  are  getting  into  use. 
To  begin  with,  these  activities  are  used  for  exploration,  in  investi- 
gation, and  the  like,  but  in  the  end,  their  development  into  utilities 
becoming  even  more  complete,  they  are  the  appropriated  means 
to  a  new  mode  of  life,  perhaps  a  new  civilization.  History  seems 
to  move  by  the  institutes  of  one  era  becoming  the  instruments  of 
the  next,  and  the  changes  thus  indicated  are  an  important  part  of 
the  reply  to  the  problem  of  conduct. 

It  would  be  interesting  at  this  point  to  discuss  in  detail  some, 
or  even  all,  of  the  different  forms  of  life's  machines  that  have 
just  been  brought  to  mind.     The  methods  and  instruments  of 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  249 

precision,  for  example,  which  belong  peculiarly  to  professional 
science,  are  interesting  as  showing  how  a  lawful,  responsible 
nature  has  been  made,  so  to  speak,  to  observe  and  measure  her- 
self;  and  in  personal  life  the  experimental  nature  of  habit,  or  the 
one  habit  of  treating  all  other  habits  as  experiments,  also  invites 
attention.  But  I  can  speak  now  only  of  the  social  institution. 
The  institution  is  not  infrequently  described  as  crystallized 
experience,  and  certainly  in  social  evolution  it  takes  form  during 
a  period  of  intellectual  fermentation.  The  rise  of  the  Roman 
state  or  of  the  Roman  church  will  occur  to  many  as  an  illustration, 
for  Rome  shows  the  treasures  or  attainments  of  the  previous 
civilizations  become  utilities.  Rome,  the  Roman  law,  and  the 
Roman  institutions  generally  took  form  out  of  the  intellectual 
activities  that  had  accompanied  the  decline  and  the  leveling  con- 
flicts of  the  earlier  civilizations  in  Greece  and  in  the  east  and  the 
south;  and  if  that  intellectual  activity  was  an  effort  on  man's 
part  to  determine  what  his  life  really  was,  and  what  its  proper 
ideals  were,  it  is  to  be  added  at  once  that  the  great  professionally 
ethical  systems  of  Stoicism,  which  represented  the  standpoint  of 
rigorism,  and  Epicureanism,  representing  the  standpoint  of 
hedonism,  served  together  as  a  solvent  for  the  entrance  of 
Rome,  concrete  something  that  she  was,  into  the  life  of  the 
Mediterranean  peoples.  Also  the  skepticism  of  the  time,  which 
of  course  was  not  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  the  ethical  teachings, 
although  professionally  it  found  independent  formulation,  is 
seriously  misunderstood  if  taken  to  mean  that  men  relinquished 
absolutely  the  fruits  of  their  past.  They  relinquished  only  their 
personal  and  racial  conceits;  the  fruits  of  the  past  remained, 
but  as  impersonal  or  non-human  products,  and  so  as  quite  avail- 
able resources;  and  the  skepticism  served  only  to  bring  those 
available  resources  into  positive  use.  Free  use  is  always  of 
material  things,  not  of  personal,  national,  or  racial  treasures; 
and  the  skepticism  made  things  of  all  that  the  past  had  to  give; 
it  made  the  things  which  Rome  used  —  whether  for  her  law  or 
for  her  games.  Moreover,  no  sooner  was  Rome  well  established 
than  her  conflict  with  Christianity  set  in;  a  conflict  in  which 
she  took  a  losing  part;  and  her  final  conversion  to  Christianity 


I 


2  50  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

meant,  above  all  else,  that  the  life  of  her  people  could  receive 
the  form,  which  she  had  so  skilfully  developed,  only  as  a  means 
to  an  end,  not  as  an  end  in  itself ;  only  as  a  great  experiment,  not 
as  a  finish  to  all  things. 

And  every  institution  is  like  Rome.  Every  institution  is  a 
product  of  the  skepticism  that  makes  material  things  out  of 
human  conceits  or  personal  effects;  every  institution  enters  life 
through  the  solvent  of  Stoicism  and  Epicureanism;  and  every 
institution  is  bound  to  be  converted  to  Christianity.  However 
large  the  scale,  then,  or  however  small,  the  institution  shows 
society  answering  its  question  about  human  life,  not  dogmati- 
cally, but  experimentally;  and,  in  giving  form  to  its  answer, 
depending,  as  Rome  depended,  on  the  double  sanction  of  duty 
and  pleasure.  Habits,  methods,  characters,  tools,  as  well  as 
laws  and  governments,  are  institutions. 

But,  thirdly  and  lastly,  the  attitude  or  spirit  of  science  is 
also  satisfying  to  the  ethical  question.  The  "  study  of  the  condi- 
tions of  action  manifested  in  the  course  of  action  "  is  not  a  mere 
way  to  morality;  it  is  itself  a  part  of  morality.  The  treatment, 
too,  of  all  the  developed  forms  of  experience  as  means,  not  ends ; 
as  instruments  of  experimentation,  not  completed  and  intrinsi- 
cally valuable  products,  is  also  positively  moral;  it  is  not  more 
and  not  less  moral  than  the  ethical  question  itself,  to  which  the 
experimental  forms  are  given  in  reply.  The  question  is  a  leading 
question,  first,  because  its  answer  must  spring  from  the  conditions 
under  which  it  has  been  formulated;  and,  second,  because  as  a 
question  it  can  receive  only  a  tentative  answer.  It  calls  for  hon- 
esty as  well  as  for  an  answer,  and  any  answer,  as  was  indeed 
asserted  almost  at  the  beginning  of  the  present  paper,  would 
grossly  betray  this  call,  if  more  than  tentative.  Can  life  even 
court  finality?  Its  ever-rising  conflict  between  the  old  and  the 
new  may  make  it  ask  and  seek,  but  it  can  find  only  to  ask  and 
seek  again.  Some  is  often  much ;  yet,  much  or  little,  some  satis- 
fies not  only  for  what  it  is,  but  also  because  it  always  calls  for 
more.  If  you  do  not  believe  this,  read  your  Dickens  or  the 
much-abused  book  of  Grenesis.  The  living  spirit  of  science,  then, 
is  an  important  factor  in  the  reply  to  ethical  inquiry. 


ETHICS  AND  ITS  HISTORY  25 1 

So,  in  a  rapid  summary,  through  the  message,  through  the 
institutions,  and  through  the  spirit  of  science,  ethics,  which  is 
the  study  of  the  conditions  of  action  with  a  view  to  action,  has  a 
definite,  pertinent  reply  to  its  leading  question:  What  ought  I 
to  do?  or,  What  ought  man  to  do?  As  only  professional,  how- 
ever, as  standing  aloof  from  science,  as  finding  an  answer  now 
solely  in  the  extra-natural  ideal  of  duty,  and  now  solely  in  the 
equally  extra-natural  ideal  of  pleasure,  ethics  only  formulates  the 
question  in  terms  of  its  natural  demands  upon  the  answer,  and 
so  reveals  the  conflict  that  has  made  the  question  from  the 
start  and  that  has  made  necessary  the  resort  to  science;  it  does 
not  definitely  and  serviceably  give  any  answer  at  all.  And  in 
the  history  of  ethics,  as  indeed  in  the  history  of  human  life 
from  any  standpoint,  one  needs  especially  to  remember  that 
class  characters  make  only  professions,  not  wholes  of  experi- 
ence, and  that  history,  accordingly,  can  never  be  adequate  and 
well-rounded,  can  never  be  living,  human  history,  if  it  confines 
itself  narrowly  to  a  single  class  or  profession,  as  if  this  were 
a  whole  by  itself.  Such  confinement,  such  abstraction,  by  making 
all  that  it  excludes  seem  really  external,  and  so,  when  in  any  way 
active  upon  the  objects  of  direct  interest,  also  arbitrary,  has  in 
my  opinion  done  more  to  give  color  to  the  charge  of  materialism 
against  history  than  any  other  one  cause.  Indeed,  just  such 
abstraction  is  the  very  essence  of  materialism;  and  as  a  last 
word,  broadening  the  view  perhaps  beyond  the  ordinary  con- 
sciousness of  the  historian,  and  seeing  history  with  the  eyes  of 
an  evolutionist,  I  would  suggest  that  even  the  material  world 
can  stand  only  for  a  special  labor,  say  even  a  special  profession  — 
the  very  important  labor  or  profession  of  maintaining,  relatively 
to  any  one  side  of  life,  all  other  sides  of  life,  within  the  real  unity 
of  experience. 


THE  THEORY  OF  COLONIZATION  ^ 


JAMES    COLLIER,    ESQ, 
Sidney,  Australia 


Two  opposite  notions  of  colonies  are  widely  prevalent.  Per- 
haps the  commoner  opinion  is,  or  used  to  be,  that  colonists  walk 
about  everywhere  in  their  shirt  sleeves,  get  from  one  place  to 
another  in  open  boats,  and,  when  the  humor  seizes  them,  promis- 
cuously fire  off  pistols  on  the  streets.  "There  will  be  none  of 
your  kind  out  there,"  said  an  old  Scotch  lady  to  a  disabled  literary 
worker  who  was  about  to  emigrate  to  the  Antipodes.  That  there 
could  be  colleges  or  universities  in  such  countries  was  incredible. 
A  German  scholar  wrote  to  a  friend  in  New  Zealand,  asking  him 
to  give  an  account  of  life  in  that  colony;  and  a  celebrated  English 
philosopher  suggested  to  his  former  assistant  that  he  should 
contribute  to  a  London  morning  journal  a  series  of  papers  on 
Australian  life.  Both  evidently  believed  that  the  way  people 
lived  in  the  British  colonies  under  the  Southern  Cross  was  radi- 
cally unlike  the  life  led  by  people  in  Europe.  The  thoughtful 
inquirer  might  rather  swing  to  the  opposite  extreme.  He  might 
naturally  assume  that  a  colony  hiving  off  from  an  old  country, 
on  being  planted  in  a  new  country,  would  merely  continue  the 
civilization  it  had  left  behind.  What  else  could  it  do?  Civiliza- 
tion is  not  a  thing,  but  a  cerebral  state,  which  the  colonists  carry 
with  them  in  their  brains.  Once  they  have  settled  in  their  new 
environment  and  overcome  the  inevitable  initial  obstacles,  it  might 
seem,  the  ways  of  life,  the  institutions,  the  arts  and  literature, 

^  It  is  of  the  writer  of  this  paper  that  Herbert  Spencer  wrote  (Autobiography, 
VoL  II,  p.  308)  :  "  It  was  not  until  after  many  months  had  passed  that  I  suc- 
ceeded in  finding,  in  the  person  of  Mr.  James  Collier,  a  capable  successor  to 
Mr.  Duncan.  Educated  partly  at  St.  Andrews  and  partly  at  Edinburgh,  Mr. 
Collier,  though  he  had  not  taken  his  degree,  possessed  in  full  measure  the  qualifica- 
tions requisite  for  the  compilation  and  tabulation  of  the  Descriptive  Sociology ; 
and  the  third  division  of  the  work,  dealing  with  the  existing  civilized  races,  pro- 
gressed satisfactorily  in  his  hands."  —  Ed. 

252 


i 


THE  THEORY  CF  COLONIZATION  253 

and  all  that  is  characteristic  of  the  old  community,  would  spring 
up  in  the  new  as  a  transplanted  flower  or  tree  blossoms  or  fruits 
in  new  soil. 

There  is  no  little  truth  in  both  views.  Under  the  mask  of 
twentieth-century  civilization,  which  plunges  gaily  into  state 
socialism,  produces  Utopian  romances  of  the  highest  quality,  idol- 
izes Paderewski,  and  is  pround  of  its  agnosticism,  there  is  much 
in  contemporary  colonies  that  is  primitive  in  the  conditions  of  life, 
the  pursuits  and  occupations,  the  passions  of  the  soul,  and  even 
the  religious  views.  On  the  other  hand,  the  earlier  stages  of  col- 
onization are  sometimes  more  truly  reproductive  of  the  mental 
level  of  the  motherland  at  the  time  when  the  colony  was  founded 
than  later  generations  always  witness.  The  earlier  legislatures 
and  ministries  in  New  England,  Australia,  and  New  Zealand 
far  surpassed,  in  the  quality  of  their  members,  their  degenerate 
successors.  Picked  men  when  they  emigrated,  sometimes  gradu- 
ates and  savants,  enthusiasts  and  philanthropists,  the  first  colon- 
ists often  carried  with  them  a  degree  of  culture  to  which  their 
sons  and  grandsons  are  strangers. 

The  truth  lies  in  a  blending  of  the  two  views.  An  emigrant 
community  that  settles  in  a  new  country,  where  it  has  to  battle 
with  adverse  physical  conditions  and  hostile  indigenes,  undergoes 
an  inevitable  degeneration.  It  has  to  begin  life  afresh  and  pass 
through  all  the  stages  of  collective  infancy,  childhood,  and  youth, 
with  all  their  imperfections.  But  it  also  starts  with  new  oppor- 
tunities and  new  hopes.  Usually  a  variant  on  the  motherland, 
formed  of  progressive  elements  that  were  too  rebellious  to  be 
successfully  reared  in  the  old  soil,  the  colony  enters  on  a  new 
career,  with  potentialities  of  development  that  could  hardly  have 
been  realized  in  the  old  land.  It  is  a  new  and  improved  social 
organism  that  has  been  generated. 

Agassiz  was  among  the  first  to  discover  the  resemblance  be- 
tween ancient  or  extinct  members  of  certain  species  and  the 
embryonic  forms  of  recent  or  contemporary  members  of  similar 
species ;  and  he  generalized  the  luminous  conception  by  suggest- 
ing that  the  chain  of  extinct  forms  runs  parallel  with  the  succes- 
sive phases  of  the  embryo  in  existing  forms.     With  the  instinct 


2  54  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  a  discoverer,  Darwin  perceived  the  accordance  between  this 
view  and  his  own  notions  of  organic  development.  The  growth  of 
the  embryo  thus  became  a  picture  of  forms  now  extinct,  or  a 
map  of  the  stages  a  species  had  traversed.  After  the  pioneer 
came  the  toiler,  to  reap  gloriously  where  he  had  not  sown. 
Guided  by  a  few  lines  in  the  Origin  of  Species,  Hackel  saw  wider 
horizons  open  before  him,  and  he  proved  the  Columbus  of  a  new 
biological  continent.  By  investigating  the  evolution  of  the 
embryo,  he  was  able  for  the  first  time  to  establish  the  pedigree  of 
man. 

The  discovery  furnishes  the  key  to  colonial  evolution.  A  col- 
ony rehearses  not  only  the  main  historical  stages  of  the  mother- 
land, but  also  those  stages  that  precede  history.  In  the  move- 
ments of  unrest  and  discontent*  that  issue  in  emigration,  the 
political  rebellions,  the  rise  of  new  religious  sects,  the  agitations 
and  organizations  that  prepare  it,  colonial  emigration  recapitu- 
lates, and  first  makes  visible  and  vivid,  the  embryonic  prelimina- 
ries of  the  birth  of  European  states,  of  which  no  record  remains. 
The  landing  of  the  immigrants,  we  can  hardly  doubt,  reproduces 
the  colonization  of  the  various  motherlands,  which  myth  and 
legend  still  appropriate.  The  relations  they  form  with  the  natives, 
their  collisions,  associations,  and  intermarriages  with  them,  their 
absorption  or  destruction  of  them,  re-create  the  facts  of  the  same 
order  that  marked  in  older  countries  the  advent  of  an  invading 
race.  The  foundation  of  the  new  states  will  often,  as  we  shall 
find,  bear  witness  to  the  formation  of  that  derided  social  compact 
which  the  imagination  of  the  elder  philosophers  perceived  at  the 
beginnings  of  all  societies.  Just  as  often  will  it  witness  to  the 
formation  of  societies  on  the  Filmerian  principle  of  the  expan- 
sion of  the  patriarchal  family,  or  the  Carlylean  principle  of  mixed 
force  and  persuasion  that  constitutes  hero-worship.  We  shall  see 
the  rudiments  of  political  institutions,  and  will  thus  revive  almost 
the  earliest  age  of  social  man.  A  but  slightly  more  recent  epoch  will 
be  seen  to  live  again  in  the  patriarchal  life  that  spread  itself  over 
the  vast  pampas  of  South  America  and  the  wide  plains  of  Aus- 
tralia. Those  political  institutions  that  arise  from  coercion  will 
again  spring  up  from  the  relations  of  the  immigrants  with  the 


THE  THEORY  OF  COLONIZATION  255 

indigenes,  and  the  more  beneficent  institutions  that  grow  out  of 
the  forms  of  co-operation  will  also  repeat  themselves.  Colonial 
governorship,  sometimes  in  half  a  century,  will  recapitulate  the 
history  of  the  monarchy  for  more  than  a  thousand  years,  and  the 
legislature  and  the  judicature  will  pass  as  rapidly  through  similar 
phases.  Colonial  slavery  in  its  darkest  shape  will  make  ancient 
slavery  seem  bright;  convict  labor  will  recall  the  slave  of  the 
Roman  ergastiiliun ;  and  mediaeval  serfage  will  live  again  in 
modern  times.  In  industry  we  shall  find  the  primitive  undiffer- 
entiated state  repeat  itself,  and  the  division  of  labor  rapidly  grows 
up  in  the  daughter-land  as  it  had  slowly  grown  up  in  the  mother- 
land. We  shall  see  the  first  colonists  take  shelter  in  burrows, 
like  animals,  and  in  caves,  like  savages.  The  strongest  moral 
sentiment  of  savage  peoples  —  the  thirst  for  revenge  —  shows 
itself  unslaked  and  predominant  even  in  advanced  colonies,  and 
the  highest  public  sentiment  —  that  which  forbids  wanton  aggres- 
sion upon  others,  whether  individuals  or  peoples  —  is  hardly  to 
be  found  in  colonies,  as  indeed  it  is  of  slow  growth  and  precarious 
existence  in  older  peoples.  Colonial  religion  seems  completely  to 
overlap  the  alleged  earliest  stage,  at  least  if  that  stage  be  ancestor- 
worship,  but  it  often  sinks  into,  and  starts  afresh  from  a  stage 
that  seems  to  be  still  earlier  —  that  of  virtual  agnosticism.  Liter- 
ature in  the  colony,  as  in  the  motherland,  is  at  first  imitative  of 
an  older  literature,  and  it  continues  to  repeat  the  literary  evolu- 
tion of  the  mother-country  long  after  the  colony  has  become  inde- 
pendent. Colonial  art  passes  through  only  a  few  of  the  phases  it 
describes  in  old  countries. 

A  social  state  may  reproduce  itself.  In  several  European 
countries  the  church  before  the  Reformation  possessed  one-third 
of  the  land ;  and  shortly  after  independence,  as  presumably  before 
it,  the  church  in  Mexico  possessed  fully  one-third  of  the  real  and 
personal  wealth  of  the  republic.  There,  too,  as  in  mediaeval 
Europe,  the  clergy  played  a  disturbing  part  in  public  life. 

Mere  events  may  strangely  repeat  themselves.  Spain  held  the 
silver  mines  whence  its  Carthaginian  rulers  sent  the  tribute  which 
left  them  free  to  pursue  a  career  of  conquest,  and  in  these  mines 
they  compelled  the  native  Spaniards  to  labor.     Seventeen  or 


256  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

eighteen  centuries  later  Spain  recapitulated  this  feature  in  her 
history  by  drawing  still  larger  sums  from  the  silver  mines  of 
Peru  and  the  gold  mines  of  Mexico,  and  the  Spaniards  were  still 
more  merciless  in  forcing  the  natives  to  work  in  the  South  Ameri- 
can mines.  In  1676  Bacon's  rebellion  in  Virginia  repeated  the 
English  rebellion  of  the  forties;  and  in  1686  James  Colleton, 
a  governor  of  South  Carolina,  imitated  Cromwell  by  expelling 
refractory  members  from  the  legislature.  The  English  revolution 
of  1688  was  repeated  on  the  banks  of  the  Ashley  and  the  Cooper, 
as  in  New  England.  Even  in  the  details  of  a  colonial  loan  the 
repetition  may  be  observed.  A  loan  of  two  millions  sterling  was 
contracted  in  1894  by  the  Bank  of  New  Zealand  and  guaranteed 
by  the  government,  and  of  this  sum  one  million  was  appropriated 
by  the  government;  just  as  in  1857  the  Bank  of  France  was 
allowed  to  add  one  hundred  million  francs  to  its  capital  on  condi- 
tion of  handing  it  over  to  the  government. 

Forgotten  or  obscure  stages  in  the  development  of  the  mother- 
country  have  already  been  recovered  in  the  records  of  colonial 
evolution.  A  few  examples  may  be  cited.  The  close  connection 
between  the  constitutional  history  of  a  country  and  the  develop- 
ment of  landed  property  in  mediaeval  times  has  been  shown  by 
von  Maurer  and  Maine.  It  was  doubtless  no  less  true  of  the 
ancient  than  of  the  modern  world,  but  the  materials  for  exhibiting 
the  relationship  were  scanty  and  imperfect.  Two  inscriptions 
not  long  since  discovered  in  Tunisia  reveal  the  gradual  develop- 
ment of  serfage  in  the  Roman  Empire,  and  prove  that,  so  far 
from  having  been  created  all  of  a  piece  by  a  law  of  Constantine, 
it  was  almost  in  existence  in  the  time  of  Commodus,  was  already 
in  germ  in  a  statute  of  Hadrian,  and  probably  goes  back  to  a 
custom  that  dates  from  the  origin  of  Rome.  The  heredity  of  the 
military  profession  was  enacted  by  the  emperors ;  African  inscrip- 
tions found  at  Lambese  prove  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  soldiering 
was  already  hereditary,  and  that  the  law  merely  confirmed  a  prac- 
tice that  had  insensibly  grown  up.  The  same  and  contiguous 
inscriptions  throw  fresh  light  on  the  Roman  army,  and  enable 
us  to  reconstruct  its  organization  and  ranks.  They  also  show  us 
more  clearly  than  before  the  oppressive  incidence  of  the  require- 


THE  THEORY  OF  COLONIZATION  257 

ments  that  the  decurions  should  themselves  bear  the  heavy  burden 
of  the  cost  of  the  municipal  administration  —  the  cause  to  which 
Guizot  chiefly  ascribes  the  fall  of  the  empire.  They  also  newly 
illustrate  the  rise  and  growth  of  towns.  And  it  is  largely  such 
inscriptions,  discovered  lately  in  Africa  or  less  recently  in  Gaul, 
that  permit  us  to  realize  the  character,  the  reality,  and  the  wide 
prevalence  of  that  strange  worship  of  the  emperors  which  had 
killed  all  other  native  cults  to  such  an  extent  that  the  emperors 
at  one  time  dreamt  of  making  it  the  center  of  resistance  to  the 
advance  of  Christianity. 

Modem  colonies,  their  histories  once  ransacked,  will  have 
other  tracts  to  light  up.  The  obscure  problem  of  the  disappear- 
ance or  absorption  of  the  Britons  by  the  invading  English,  on 
which  authoritative  history  is,  or  was,  at  variance  with  anthro- 
pology, will  perhaps  take  on  a  new  complexion,  as  the  nature  of 
the  absorption  or  suppression  of  indigenous  races  in  former  or 
contemporary  colonies  is  thoroughly  understood.  Are  we  not 
reading,  in  its  main  outlines,  the  story  of  the  German  conquest 
of  England,  and  its  expulsion  or  assimilation  of  the  Britons, 
when  we  witness  the  advance  of  British  colonization  in  New 
Zealand?  Early  linguistic  stages,  which  have  passed  away  in 
England  and  left  no  record  of  their  passage,  are  still  to  be  found 
in  Kentucky  and  Tennessee.  The  township,  which  long  ago  dis- 
appeared from  among  English  institutions,  experienced  a  vigor- 
ous resurrection  in  the  New  England  colonies,  and  became  the 
unit  and  center  of  their  political  activity.  Doubtless,  it  had 
undergone  a  sea-change  in  its  transit  across  the  Atlantic.  Social 
protoplasm  does  not  remain  constant,  but,  as  Weismann  believes 
of  vital  protoplasm,  it  receives  a  historical  modification. 

But  when  we  have  recounted  the  parallel  between  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  mother-country  and  the  evolution  of  its  colonies,  we 
have  told  only  one-half  of  the  story  of  colonial  evolution.  Evolu- 
tionists of  the  new  school  would  say  that  it  is  not  even  the  more 
significant  half.  The  final  cause  of  colonies,  they  would  allege, 
is  not  merely  to  recapitulate  the  evolution  of  the  parent  state. 
That  is  but  their  embryology  and  their  infancy.  Their  chief  end 
is  to  supply  a  field  for  variations  already  in  germ  in  the  mother- 


258  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

land,  to  let  them  run  there  a  new  course,  and  to  develop  a  new 
social  type. 

The  new  point  of  view  was,  in  reality,  as  familiar  to  Darwin 
as  to  his  critics.  To  him  the  struggle  for  existence  is  a  struggle 
"for  the  production  of  new  and  modified  descendants."  When  one 
group  conquers  another  and  reduces  its  numbers,  it  thus  lessens 
"  its  chance  of  further  variation  and  improvement."  It  will  at  the 
same  time  lessen  the  power  of  that  group,  and  increase  its  own 
power,  to  fill  unoccupied  places  in  nature,  to  create  new  places,  and 
thus  to  generate  an  improved  species.  Could  a  biological  philoso-  . 
phy  be  less  egotist  ?  And  the  philosophy  of  a  colonization  legiti- 
mately founded  on  it  bears  the  same  stamp  of  idealism.  When 
a  community  colonizes  a  new  country,  it  is  not  for  gold,  or  glory, 
or  territory,  or  even  for  freedom  and  justice  to  its  own,  that  the 
work  is  undertaken.  These  may  be  the  lures  or  the  pretexts ;  one 
or  another  of  them  may  be  the  motive.  The  infant  colony  is 
striving  to  produce  future  new  generations  of  a  higher  type  and 
with  a  grander  civilization.  Schopenhauer  would  have  said  that 
it  was  the  unborn  generation  that  was  struggling  to  come  into 
existence.  Colonization  is  thus  raised  to  being  an  expression  of 
high  altruism  —  the  higher  that  it  often  means,  like  parturition 
generally,  the  sacrifice  of  the  present  generation  to  the  future  one. 

For  it  is  in  the  new  peoples  formed  by  colonization  that  new 
institutions,  new  arts,  new  ethical  sentiments,  new  religions  and 
philosophies,  and  new  literary  forms  are  found  to  arise.  Under 
brighter  or  it  may  be,  still  sterner  skies,  but  at  all  events  in  a 
changed  social  environment,  the  germs  of  variation  whose  growth 
would  have  been  checked  in  the  old  country  have  free  scope  for 
expansion.  The  Greek  colonies  are  in  this  respect  by  far  the  most 
notable.  Picturesque  and  inspiring  as  is  the  history  of  ancient 
Greece,  even  it  might  pale  before  the  splendors  of  Hellenic  colo- 
nial history  in  Asia  Minor,  Magna  Grgecia,  and  Sicily,  did  we 
know  it  better.  Of  Greater  Greece  the  grander  part  lay  outside 
of  Greece  proper.  Hellenic  civilization  there  spread  its  wings 
for  a  freer  flight,  and  in  these  favored  lands  it  produced  forms 
more  dazzling  than  even  in  Athens  or  Corinth.  Perhaps  no  city 
in  Greece  could  vie  with  Ephesus  or  Miletus,  Agrigentum  or 


THE  THEORY  OF  COLONIZATION  259 

Syracuse,  Croton,  Sybaris,  or  Tarentum.  From  the  dimensions, 
magnificence,  and  opulence  of  the  temples  we  may  infer  that 
religious  worship  received  a  large  expansion.  The  Diana  of  the 
Ephesians  must  have  ceased  to  be  the  chaste  huntress  of  the 
Acroceraunian  Mountains.  No  temple  in  the  motherland  can 
have  possessed  the  wealth  of  that  of  Juno  Lacinia  at  Croton.  A 
Greek  colony  at  Thurium,  in  Italy,  anticipated  all  the  world  in 
establishing  free,  universal,  and  compulsory  education.  But  in 
no  field  did  Greater  Greece  shine  more  resplendently  than  in  its 
production  of  a  long  series  of  scientific  and  philosophical  ideas. 
Early  Greek  philosophy  and  science  are  almost  exclusively  col- 
onial. That  transcendental  physics  of  which  Herbert  Spencer 
is  the  latest  and  most  illustrious  representative,  was  founded  by 
four  Greek  colonials  —  Thales,  Anaximenes,  and  Heraclitus,  all 
of  Miletus,  and  Empedocles  of  Agrigentum.  The  founder  of  the 
atomic  philosophy,  Leucippus,  was  probably  also  a  Milesian. 
Another  Milesian,  Anaximander,  initiated  that  philosophy  of  the 
unconditioned  whose  last  phasis  appeared  in  the  encounter  be- 
tween Mill  and  Mansel  in  1867.  Pythagoras  founded  at  Croton 
that  philosophy  of  numbers  of  which  Boole  and  Jevons,  Edge- 
worth  and  Pierce,  are  the  modern  spokesmen.  Xenophanes, 
Parmenides,  and  Zeno  laid  at  Elea  the  bases  of  that  absolute 
idealism  which  culminated  in  Hegel.  Porphyry,  a  Syrian  colon- 
ist, continued  the  tradition  of  neo-Platonism  that  found  its  last 
expression  in  Schelling.  Aristippus,  of  the  African  colony  of 
Cyrene,  was  perhaps  the  originator  of  that  hedonism  in  ethics 
whose  latest  advocate  was  Henry  Sidgwick.  Another  Cyrensean, 
Carneades,  who  was  not,  however,  a  Cyrenaic,  led  a  reaction  to 
Plato,  as  Thomas  Hill  Green,  in  our  own  days,  headed  a  return  to 
Kant.  In  pure  science,  Euclid  himself  was  hardly  a  greater  dis- 
coverer than  the  Sicilian  Archimedes,  who  also  ranks  among  the 
many  martyrs  of  science,  Epicharmus  was  the  colonial  parallel 
to  Menander;  Theocritus  created  the  idyl;  and  the  Lost  Tales 
of  Miletus  were  probably  also  a  new  literary  departure.  Asia 
Minor,  Magna  Graecia,  and  Sicily  were  the  America,  Australia, 
and  New  Zealand  of  Hellas. 

No  radiance  of  idealism  tinged  the  foundation  of  Roman 


260  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

colonies,  but  if  we  remember  that  African  theologians  —  Cyprian 
and  Tertullian,  Augustine  and,  it  seems,  the  author  or  authors 
of  the  Athanasian  Creed  —  shaped  the  religion  that  was  to  mold 
barbarous  Europe,  we  may  consider  that  no  colonies,  ancient  or 
modern,  ever  lived  for  more  idealist  ends,  or  produced  a  set  of 
more  important  variations,  than  the  Roman  colony  of  Africa. 

Not  only  greed  of  gold,  but  a  passion  for  adventure,  lay  at  the 
beginnings  of  most  of  the  colonies  in  South  America.  The 
dream  of  a  golden  age  and  a  fountain  of  youth  gilded,  and  some- 
times tarnished,  the  romance  of  Spanish  colonization.  A  new 
type  of  individual,  if  hardly  a  new  social  type,  was  for  a  time 
generated  among  the  conquistadores.  Blended  patriotism  and 
religious  enthusiasm  inspired  the  short-lived  Calvinist  colony  in 
Brazil  and  the  assassinated  Huguenot  colony  in  Florida.  A  new 
social  form  was  the  object  of  their  founders.  Religious  zeal  like- 
wise gave  rise  to  the  first  Spanish  settlement  in  the  same  country, 
and  it  almost  founded,  as  it  almost  discovered,  French  North 
America. 

A  sober  idealism  gave  birth,  a  century  later,  to  the  largest  and 
most  durable  political  variations  that  any  modern  colony  has  pre- 
sented. The  social  structure  of  Virginia  was,  of  all  the  North 
American  colonies,  the  most  continuous  with  England;  yet  it 
was  the  first  state  in  the  world  where  manhood  suffrage  was 
conceded.  The  representative  assembly  thus  elected  was  supreme 
and  posesssed  all  the  rights  of  an  independent  state :  it  levied  war 
and  concluded  peace,  acquired  territory,  and  framed  treaties.  It 
elected  its  governor  and  deposed  him.  The  sovereignty  of  the 
people  was  declared.  The  governor  acknowledged  himself  the 
"  servant  of  the  assembly,"  and  could  not  dissolve  it.  It  asserted 
unlimited  liberty  of  conscience  and  opposed  arbitrary  taxation. 
A  love  of  liberty  was  a  passion.  With  a  single  exception,  reli- 
gious tolerance  was  complete;  and  the  colony  was  almost  an 
independent  commonwealth.  All  unconsciously,  Bancroft  be- 
lieves, the  Virginians  obeyed  the  impulses  that  were  controlling 
the  advancement  of  humanity,  but  the  movement  was  in  part 
conscious  as  well.    In  1659  the  Virginian  Assembly  claimed  the 


THE  THEORY  OF  COLONIZATION  26 1 

confirmation  of  its  independence  on  the  ground  that  "  what  was 
their  privilege  now  might  be  the  privilege  of  their  posterity." 

If  conservative  and  English  Virginia  proved  so  democratic 
and  progressive,  we  need  not  be  surprised  that  the  New  England 
colonies  were  revolutionary.  Massachusetts  founded  a  kind  of 
theocracy,  with  the  important  variant  that  the  clergy,  while 
exerting  no  small  political  influence,  were  absolutely  denied  the 
possession  of  political  power.  The  ecclesiastical  leaders  remained 
clergymen  of  the  Church  of  England,  as  the  two  Wesleys  did; 
but  it  was  a  new  ecclesiastical  polity  they  founded,  as  did  John 
Wesley.  The  church  was  separated  from  the  state;  the  congre- 
gational system  was  established;  ministers  were  elected;  the 
ceremonies  were  simple,  and  liturgies  were  abolished.  While 
the  Church  of  England  drifted  into  the  Arminianism  natural  to 
easy-going  people,  the  church  in  New  England  became  sternly 
Calvinist.  The  Puritans  expelled  the  Anglicans,  as  the  Angli- 
cans had  expelled  the  Puritans,    Tolerance  was  still  repudiated. 

The  advance  was  as  great  in  constitutional  law.  While  the 
Massachusetts  charter,  strictly  interpreted,  granted  limited  pow- 
ers, circumstances  gave  it  a  wider  significance.  All  the  freemen 
were  electors ;  possessing  absolute  power,  they  elected  the  gover- 
nor; and  the  principle  of  electing  all  officers  was  established. 
Hereditary  dignities  were  refused.  The  ballot-box  was  intro- 
duced. Arbitrary  taxation  was  made  unconstitutional.  A  written 
constitution  was  drafted.  Almost  unconsciously,  a  colonizing 
company  was  transformed  into  a  representative  democracy. 

The  dynamic  was  spiritual.  Not  less  than  early  Virginia  — 
far  more  than  later  Virginia  —  the  Puritans  lived  under  the 
shadow  of  the  invisible.  "  Their  thoughts,"  says  Bancroft,  "  were 
always  fixed  on  posterity,"  and  a  solicitude  for  future  generations 
was  manifest  in  all  their  legislation.  It  was  a  prime  motive  for 
fleeing  from  persecution,  since  persecution  "might  lead  their 
posterity  to  abjure  the  truth."  Like  the  leader  of  the  migration 
to  Connecticut,  they  were  true  to  the  "  cause  of  advancing  civil- 
ization ....  even  while  it  remained  a  mystery  "  to  them.  More 
than  any  other  living  people,  they  and  their  successors  have  acted 
on  the  injunction  of  the  real  founder  of  the  Plymouth  settle- 


262  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ment,  who  charged  the  Pilgrims  that  "you  be  ready  to  receive 
whatever  truth  shall  be  made  known  to  you  from  the  written 
word  of  God."  It  was  a  new  sociological  species  that  had  been 
planted  on  the  historic  capes  of  New  England. 

A  still  greater  advance  was  made  in  a  colony  that  hived  off 
from  New  England.  Like  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island  realized 
the  philosophical  ideal  by  being  founded  on  the  social  compact  of 
equal  freemen.  It  came  nearer  than  any  other  state  to  Hum- 
boldt's and  Spencer's  "administrative  nihilism."  It  repeated  the 
Swiss,  and  anticipated  the  Australian,  referendum.  It  initiated 
the  payment  of  members.  It  enjoyed  the  memorable  distinction 
of  setting  the  first  example  the  world  has  seen  of  universal  toler- 
ance combined  with  an  intense  and  deep-seated  religious  faith. 
Its  animating  principle  was  benevolence  and  its  bond  a  mutual 
affection.  There  has  been  but  one  Rhode  Island,  even  in  a 
country  that  has  "  a  city  of  brotherly  love." 

No  less  visibly  are  the  British  colonies  at  the  Antipodes  the 
seat  of  a  new  social  system.  Though  there  was  much  enthusiasm 
and  no  little  idealism  at  the  inception  of  certain  of  these  colonies, 
especially  of  the  southern  New  Zealand  settlements,  no  design 
was  consciously  entertained  by  their  founders  of  making  them 
other  than  continuations  of  English  society.  Circumstances  have 
proved  too  strong  for  them.  With  an  obviously  English  exterior, 
which  differentiates  them  from  the  United  States  and  from  Can- 
ada, some  of  their  distinctive  principles  either  are  un-English 
or  are  anticipative  of  future  English  developments.  While  the 
motherland  remains  largely  aristocratic  in  its  Parliament  and 
administration,  its  state  church  and  the  spirit  of  its  social  life, 
the  Australian  colonies  are  irrevocably  pledged  to  a  straight-out 
democracy.  Title-grabbers  and  title-worshipers  still  fleck  their 
surface,  as  they  do  that  of  the  United  States,  but  these  either  lie 
outside  of  its  active  potencies  or  are  soon  expelled  from  them. 
Equality  of  station  is  the  rule.  Equality  of  opportunity  is  the 
claim.  New  Zealand  and  South  Australia  were  among  the  first 
states,  and  Australia  was  the  first  commonwealth,  to  admit  women 
to  the  suffrage,  now  universal ;  and  they  are  following  the  United 
States  in  admitting  them  to  the  professions.    All  careers  are  open 


THE  THEORY  OF  COLONIZATION  263 

to  all.  Four  successive  premiers  of  New  Zealand  were,  respec- 
tively, butcher,  schoolmaster,  commercial  traveler,  and  engine- 
driver.  Two  farm-laborers  have  risen  to  the  still  higher  position 
of  premier  of  the  mother-state  of  New  South  Wales,  and  many 
of  the  cabinet  ministers  are  illiterate  men.  The  Commonwealth 
and  also  Western  Australia  have  witnessed  the  original  phenom- 
enon of  a  labor  ministry;  Queensland  has  a  mixed  liberal  and 
labor  ministry ;  and  New  South  Wales  rejoices  in  a  parliamentary 
opposition  that  consists  mainly  of  labor  members  and  is  led  by 
their  leader.  Tolerance  is  unlimited,  and  avowed  freethinkers 
are  premiers  and  ministers,  chief  justices  and  judges.  But  it 
is  in  their  governmental  socialism  that  the  lineaments  of  a  new 
social  type  are  most  palpable.  Hardly  had  they  been  planted 
when  the  young  colonies  varied  in  this  direction.  Governments 
began  to  do  for  them  what  had  been  done  in  the  motherland  by 
private  enterprise.  They  built  the  railways,  and  this  has  led  to 
the  establishment  of  state  manufactures  and  the  purchase  of  state 
coal-mines.  They  owned  the  waste  lands,  and  their  ownership  of 
them  has  grown  into  laws  for  the  nationalization  of  the  land. 
They  pensioned  their  employees,  and  out  of  this  have  come  gov- 
ernment fire-  and  life-insurance  departments.  Nowhere  else  have 
the  workmen  more  completely  succeeded  in  asserting  for  them- 
selves a  position  of  equality  with  the  masters  by  means  of  state 
courts  of  arbitration.  Old-age  pensions  secure  them  against  want 
in  the  sunset  of  their  days.  The  artisan  and  the  laborer  are  being 
raised  as  much  above  the  oppressed  workman  of  last  generation 
as  he  was  above  the  serf  and  the  serf  above  the  slave.  A  pro- 
tected laboring  class  in  a  semi-socialist  state  is  doubtless  the  new 
social  type  that  is  being  generated  in  Australia  and  New  Zealand. 
The  new  departures  taken  in  colonies  are  often  projected  in 
the  mother-country  or  in  older  countries.  The  political  constitu- 
tions of  the  American  colonies  sprang  in  part  from  the  Puritan 
ideals  of  the  English  commonwealth.  "The  Agreement  of  the 
People"  drawn  up  in  1648-49  contains  all  that  is  distinctive  of 
the  earlier  phases  of  American  public  life.  The  sovereignty  of 
"the  people "  (the  term  is  notable)  is  clearly  stated.  A  represen- 
tative assembly  (the  word  became  American  and  is  now  Aus- 


264  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tralian)  is  to  be  elected  by  all  taxpayers,  residing  in  equal  electoral 
districts.  Parliaments  are  to  be  biennial.  The  representatives 
(again  note  the  word)  have  "the  supreme  trust"  and,  as  the 
United  States  and  the  Australian  Commonwealth  have  done,  will 
establish  courts  of  justice  and  other  institutions.  The  power  of 
the  assembly  is  for  the  first  time  limited  by  means  of  a  distinction 
between  the  fundamental  and  the  changeable  articles  of  the  con- 
stitution. The  legislature  is  divorced  from  the  executive.  There 
is  to  be  no  compulsion  in  religion,  and  liberals  are  to  be  protected 
in  the  profession  of  their  faith.  Such  details  as  the  appointment 
of  a  commission  for  rearranging  electoral  districts  and  the  hold- 
ing of  all  elections  on  one  fiaced  day,  anticipate  usages  now  in 
force  in  Australia  as  well  as  the  United  States. 

The  ideas  embodied  in  the  socialist  legislation  of  New  Zealand 
and  Australia  are  also  derivative  and  have  been  drawn  from 
German  systems  of  state  socialism,  as  expounded  by  English  and 
American  writers  —  chiefly  Gronlund  and  Bellamy  and  the  Fabian 
socialists.  The  nationalization  of  the  land  had  been  advocated 
by  Spence,  Godwin,  and  Herbert  Spencer  (who  became  a  rene- 
gade to  the  cause)  before  it  was  made  a  war-cry  by  Henry  George. 
Old-age  pensions  had  been  proposed  by  Canon  Blackley  in  Eng- 
land, and  were  in  force  in  Germany  and  Denmark.  Courts  of 
industrial  arbitration  and  the  minimum  wage  had  been  incorpor- 
ated in  a  measure  laid  before  the  Reichstag,  In  their  most  auda- 
cious innovations  colonies  therefore  still  repeat  the  development, 
even  if  only  speculative,  of  older  countries.  They  rear  and  foster 
ideas  they  could  not  have  originated,  and  which  could  less  readily 
have  germinated  in  the  impoverished  soil  and  harsh  climate  of 
the  motherland  or  its  congeners. 

Such  is  the  theory  of  colonization.  Rapidly  passing  through 
the  embryonic  stages  that  repeat  the  prehistoric  era  in  the  history 
of  the  mother-country,  or  those  it  has  in  common  with  other 
nationalities  of  the  same  race,  or  even  with  other  races,  a  colony 
cuts  the  umbilical  cord,  and  then,  in  the  few  generations  con- 
sumed by  infancy  and  youth,  it  swiftly  recapitulates  the  stages 
the  motherland  had  slowly  traversed  till  the  time  when  the  colony 
had  come  to  the  birth.     Some  colonies  are  arrested  at  this  point 


THE  THEORY  OF  COLONIZATION  265 

from  sheer  inability  to  develop  further;  others,  weighted  by 
incompatible  racial  elements,  are  checked  at  a  still  earlier  point. 
Those  that  carry  in  their  womb  the  new-births  of  time  shoot  on 
an  original  course,  and  first  then  fulfil  their  true  mission.  Their 
dominant  characters,  the  nature  of  their  institutions,  and  the 
spirit  of  their  civilization  are  radically  different  from  those  of  the 
mother-country.  The  ethos  even  of  colonies  living  in  adjacent 
latitudes  may  be  mutually  incongruous.  Temperate  New  Zea- 
land has  refused  to  federate  with  tropical  and  subtropical  Aus- 
tralia because  the  genius  of  the  two  countries  is  dissimilar.  Each 
must  pursue  its  own  path,  as  Scotland  refused  to  unite  with 
England  till  it  had  shaped  an  individuality  of  its  own.  A  still 
higher  mission  will  then  be  found  to  be  inherent  in  the  new  organ- 
ism, and  the  community  that  was  great  in  independence  will 
become  still  greater  as  an  organ  of  a  composite  commonwealth. 


REVIEWS 


A  Text  Book  of  Sociology.  By  James  Quayle  Dealey^  Pro- 
fessor of  Social  and  Political  Science  in  Brown  University, 
and  Lester  F.  Ward^  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution.  New 
York  :   The  Macmillan  Co.     Pp.  xxxv  +  326. 

To  say  that  this  book  comes  nearer  than  any  predecessor  to 
satisfying  reasonable  demands  for  an  elementary  textbook  in  general 
sociology,  may  seem  to  those  acquainted  with  the  possible  range  of 
comparison  a  deliberate  attempt  to  damn  with  faint  praise.  The 
estimate  expresses  my  judgment,  however,  and  the  opinion  is  in  no 
sense  or  degree  a  "  tainted  "  tribute.  I  welcome  the  book,  and  both 
hope  and  predict  that  it  will  prove  an  important  factor  in  securing  for 
sociology  the  academic  attention  which  it  deserves.  The  mere  fact 
that  it  is  a  collaboration,  instead  of  the  work  of  a  single  writer,  is  in 
itself  a  guarantee  that  it  will  have  certain  availabilities  which  no 
author  of  a  sociological  system  could  achieve  alone,  if  he  attempted 
to  recast  his  theories  for  classroom  use.  The  reasons  for  this  are 
implied  clearly  enough  in  the  book  itself,  in  its  statement  of  the  way 
in  which  sciences  grow  (pp.  4-6). 

At  the  same  time,  the  great  need  in  sociology  just  now  is  not  a 
textbook,  but  teachers  qualified  to  win  due  respect  for  the  subject, 
whether  they  have  a  textbook  or  not.  The  only  teachers  of  this  type 
are  sure  to  have  a  plan  of  instruction  of  their  own,  which  might  be 
made  into  a  textbook,  and  they  are  likely  to  find  anyone's  else  book 
a  sort  of  Saul's  armor  at  best.  Less  qualified  teachers  have  already 
queered  the  subject  in  numerous  unfortunate  instances,  and  no  book 
can  be  good  enough  to  enable  the  unfit  to  make  sociology  reputable. 

A  textbook  cannot  be  held  responsible,  however,  for  supplying 
either  brains  or  training,  and  we  must  judge  it  upon  the  presumption 
that  it  will  be  used  by  competent  men.  Taking  so  much  for  granted, 
the  present  text  can  hardly  fail  to  be  serviceable  in  popularizing  the 
system  which  has  earned  for  Dr.  Ward  a  permanent  place  in  social 
science. 

As  I  review  his  philosophy  in  this  epitome,  however,  an  impres- 
sion already  derived  from  study  of  Dr.  Ward's  more  elaborate  books 

266 


I 


REVIEWS  267 

is  confirmed.  Although  he  must  always  rank  as  a  prince  of  the 
apostles  of  psychic  influence  in  society,  Dr.  Ward  does  not  succeed, 
in  spite  of  himself,  in  giving  to  his  rendering  of  society  an  unmis- 
takably human  tone.  He  carries  from  his  work  in  physical  science  a 
certain  abstractness  of  statement  which  is  partly  inseparable  from  all 
generalization,  but  which  has  the  effect  of  holding  the  interpretation 
farther  aloof  from  actual  life  than  is  desirable  or  necessary.  In 
reducing  social  factors  to  the  least  common  denominator,  "  force," 
Ward  does  not  retain  such  control  of  the  denominator  that  it  always 
suggests,  when  it  should,  the  qualities  of  psychic  force.  Beginning 
with  "  synergy "  and  ending  with  "  social  appropriation,"  I  have  a 
feeling  that  the  medium  of  expressing  the  thought  retains  a  foreign 
element  that  needlessly  veils  the  thought.  The  language  itself  sug- 
gests to  my  mind  images  of  conjunctions  of  impersonal  forces,  rather 
than  flesh-and-blood  men  working  together.  Everybody  who  values 
Ward's  work  in  sociology,  as  I  certainly  do,  ought  to  be  aware  that 
it  needs  to  be  personalized  far  beyond  the  letter  of  its  formulas, 
before  its  essential  truth  can  be  made  impressive.  It  is  one  thing  to 
get  our  theory  of  life  firmly  grounded  upon  the  basis  of  cosmic 
forces ;  it  is  quite  another  thing  to  reduce  our  theory  of  life  to  an 
algebra  of  cosmic  forces  among  which  live  individuals  do  not  appear. 
If  there  must  be  an  exclusion  of  one  extreme  or  the  other,  we  should 
be  nearer  the  truth  in  expressing  our  sociology  in  terms  of  people 
than  in  terms  of  forces.  Neither  extreme  need  be  adopted,  but  in 
following  Ward  there  should  always  be  an  addition  of  human  terms 
to  the  equations. 

Speaking  with  the  bias  of  a  teacher  who  has  a  method  of  his 
own,  I  cannot  agree  with  the  judgment  of  the  authors  in  distribut- 
ing the  material  of  the  book.  Perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to 
say  that  a  fair  digest  of  Dr.  Ward's  system  calls  for  a  plan  of  treat- 
ment which  does  not  seem  to  me  to  provide  for  the  wisest  allotment 
of  the  time  of  students.  We  are  in  the  middle  of  the  book  (p.  169), 
before  we  reach  the  topic  "  The  Social  Order."  Assuming  that  the 
book  is  to  be  used  with  college  seniors,  I  should  say  that  every  day 
spent  on  preliminaries,  before  introducing  them  to  the  social  order, 
is  relatively  a  day  lost.  Few  colleges  have  so  far  relaxed  their  step- 
motherly attitude  toward  sociology  as  to  afford  room  at  best  for  more 
than  a  glimpse  at  it  in  undergraduate  courses.  This  glimpse  ought 
to  go  as  near  to  the  heart  of  the  matter  as  possible.  Prying  into  the 
metaphysics  of  the  plan  of  salvation  may  well  be  reserved  for  the 


268  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

rare  few  brands  plucked  from  the  burning  who  are  elected  to  a 
graduate  career. 

But  the  volume  is  more  than  a  textbook  in  the  pedagogical  sense. 
It  is  an  interpretation  of  a  system  of  thought  which  comparatively 
few  people  have  had  the  enterprise  to  master  in  its  original  form.  It 
ought  to  influence  many  readers  to  correct  their  mistake  of  omitting 
to  find  out  what  Ward  has  been  teaching  for  a  quarter-century. 
Even  those  who  have  studied  Ward's  books  from  the  beginning  will 
find  ample  reason  for  acknowledging  the  service  which  Professor 
Dealey  has  rendered  both  as  editor  and  commentator. 

Between  adoption  of  the  elective  system,  and  rejection  of  the 
old-fashioned  "mental  and  moral  philosophy,"  which  until  recently 
served  at  all  events  to  give  a  certain  coherence  to  the  college  course, 
the  colleges  have  gone  farther  than  most  of  them  are  aware  toward 
forfeiting  one  of  their  chief  claims  to  respect.  They  are  putting  stu- 
dents off  with  a  list  of  uncorrelated  courses  instead  of  giving  them  a 
unified  view  of  life.  The  stronger  the  college,  the  greater  the  proba- 
bility that  the  proposition  is  literally  true.  If  the  average  student 
of  the  larger  colleges  has  at  graduation  a  definite  conception  of  his 
relation  to  society,  it  is  very  seldom  traceable  to  the  direct  influence 
of  the  college.  The  opposite  was  once  the  case,  and  doubtless  will  be 
again.  A  college  course  that  leaves  the  knowledge  imparted  in  a 
state  of  uncorrelated  chaos  is  lamentably  defective.  The  only  think- 
able substitute,  in  the  near  future,  for  the  speculative  philosophy 
which  used  to  shape  the  general  world-view  taught  in  American  col- 
leges must  be  some  version  of  sociology.  Whether  the  merits  of  the 
sociologists  in  particular,  or  the  logic  of  events  in  general,  will  most 
directly  fulfil  this  prophecy,  we  need  not  predict.  In  either  case,  such 
books  as  this  will  play  an  important  part  in  preparing  the  way  for  a 
needed  reform  in  college  programs. 

Albion  W.  Small. 


Jugendfiirsorge  und  Strafrecht  in  den  Vereinigten  Staaten  von 
Amerika:    Ein  Beitrag  sur  Erziehungspolitik  unserer  Zeit. 
Von  J.  M.  Baemreither.     Leipzig:   Duncker  &  Humblot, 
1905.     Pp.  Ixviii  -f  305. 
The  author  is  already  well  known  in  the  English-speaking  world 
and  has  taken  pains  to  study  the  problems  of  the  social  care  of  youth- 
ful citizens  in  all  civilized  states.    The  introduction  is  devoted  to  a 


REVIEWS  269 

comparison  of  methods  in  France,  England,  Germany,  Austria,  and 
America.  While  this  part  is  brief,  it  gives  the  essential  and  charac- 
teristic elements  in  the  new  legislative  and  philanthropic  movements 
of  those  countries,  and  furnishes  the  perspective  for  the  special  study 
of  educational  philanthropy  in  the  Union.  The  course  of  thought 
deserves  the  attention  of  American  students  and  practical  adminis- 
trators, for  the  author's  warm  sympathy  and  intelligent  appreciation 
of  our  achievements  have  not  prevented  his  making  critical  observa- 
tions and  offering  warnings  which  we  can  profitably  consider. 

The  people  of  the  United  States  vary  much,  not  only  as  indi- 
viduals, but  also  as  groups ;  and  yet  they  have  a  sense  of  unity  and 
many  common  characteristics,  economic  interests,  laws,  customs,  and 
impulses.  Everywhere  there  is  united  with  vast  industrial  energy  an 
enthusiasm  for  education. 

The  description  of  methods  begins  with  a  chapter  on  our  volun- 
tary associations  for  preserving  the  morality  of  imperiled  children 
and  youth :  the  Children's  Aid  Societies  founded  or  inspired  by 
Charles  Loring  Bruce ;  the  societies  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to 
children ;  Girard  College ;  the  Catholic  Protectory  of  New  York ; 
and  the  laws  which  have  been  enacted  for  the  benefit  of  their 
activities. 

The  author  then  passes  to  the  systems  of  care  administered  by 
several  states,  and  he  describes  the  systems  of  Massachusetts,  New 
York,  Ohio,  and  Michigan  as  types  of  varying  methods  with  one 
common  ideal.  These  accounts  of  the  treatment  of  children  lay  the 
foundation  for  a  discussion  of  the  methods  of  dealing  with  delinquent 
youth.  The  institutions  especially  studied  by  the  author  were  the 
Lyman  School  in  Massachusetts,  the  House  of  Refuge  in  New  York, 
the  Rochester  School,  Glens  Mills  in  Pennsylvania,  Whittier  in  Cali- 
fornia. In  all  these  forms  of  action  there  are  certain  common  prin- 
ciples :  that  education  must  be  substituted  for  punishment ;  that 
transformation  of  character  is  the  decisive  consideration ;  that  courts 
cannot  carry  out  an  educational  policy  without  a  system  of  probation 
and  the  aid  of  competent  probation  officers ;  that  police  supervision  is 
fatal ;  that  the  court  must  take  time  for  the  fruition  of  the  educative 
process,  and  must  employ  the  "  indeterminate  sentence  "  in  order  to 
make  sure  that  its  reformatory  work  is  thoroughly  done;  and  that 
the  judge  must  be  given  large  freedom  in  adapting  his  measures  to 
his  purpose  according  to  the  needs  of  the  individual. 

It  is  when  the  author  comes  to  persons  in  later  youth  and  early 


270  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

manhood  that  he  finds  the  American  ideas  of  reformatory  treatment 
clash  with  the  ancient  legal  notions  of  Europe,  and  we  can  easily 
imagine  that  the  conservative  jurists  of  his  own  land  will  give  him 
uneasy  hours,  if  he  is  very  sensitive  to  criticism.  First  of  all  he  tells 
them  roundly  that  they  are  in  the  habit  of  misrepresenting  the 
American  idea ;  that  they  falsely  picture  our  reformatories  as  luxuri- 
ous abodes  of  criminals  made  attractive  by  sentimentalism  and  blind 
philanthropy.  In  clear,  vivid  outline  Baemreither  sets  forth  the 
pioneer  conceptions  of  Edward  Livingstone,  Z.  R.  Brockway,  and 
the  leaders  of  reform  in  Massachusetts  and  elsewhere,  as  E.  C. 
Wines,  Dwight,  and  Sanborn.  Selecting  Concord  and  Elmira 
reformatories  as  typical  institutions,  the  author  describes,  praises,  and 
critically  estimates  the  procedure  employed  in  the  practical  working 
of  the  "  indeterminate  sentence." 

A  valuable  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  meaning  and  method  of 
"  probation "  under  friendly  supervision,  which  is  rightly  regarded 
as  an  essential  factor  in  the  successful  administration  of  the  educa- 
tional principle  in  dealing  with  offenders.  Young  men  cannot  be 
trained  for  liberty  while  confined  in  prison  and  constrained  by  mili- 
tary drill ;  and  yet  they  cannot  be  trusted  to  live  in  society  without 
some  degree  of  direction  and  counsel,  supported  by  the  authority  of 
the  court. 

Another  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  juvenile  court,  its  law,  pro- 
cedure, administration,  and  results.  On  this  last  point  a  note  of 
general  criticism  is  gently  introduced :  "  The  Americans  are  fond  of 
showing  oflf  statistics,  especially  if  the  figures  are  l^rge,  and  they 
repeat  them  very  many  times ;  but  they  take  less  pains  to  test  them 
and  sift  the  results.  All  this  belongs  to  the  American  optimism,  but 
it  renders  it  difficult  to  secure  unbiased  conclusions."  The  work  con- 
cludes with  discussions  of  the  union  of  science  and  practice,  and  an 
analysis  of  the  law  of  domestic  relations.  "  Science,  public  adminis- 
tration, and  private  enterprise  are  united  in  spirit  and  practice,  work 
together,  learn  from  each  other,  and  so  increase  the  store  of  experi- 
ence and  knowledge.  The  teachers  of  science  in  colleges  and  uni- 
versities draw  from  the  experiments  of  practical  men,  but  they  in 
return  enrich  the  ideas  of  the  workers  and  keep  the  members  of 
boards,  the  directors  of  institutions,  and  the  laborers  in  fields  of  pri- 
vate philanthropy  from  the  danger  of  falling  into  routine."  Very 
interesting  observations  are  made  on  the  practical  applications  of  psy- 
chology in  the  study  of  motives  which  influence  juvenile  offenders 


i 


REVIEWS  271 

both  for  evil  and  good.  "  Science  is  made  democratic ;  practice  is 
elevated."  Altogether  this  book  of  Dr.  Baemreither  is  full  of  interest 
as  a  criticism  of  American  ideals  and  a  special  study  of  one  important 
field  of  social  effort. 

C.  R.  Henderson, 


Loi  sur  la  protection  de  la  sante  puhlique  (Loi  du  15  Fevrier 
1902),  travaux  legislatifs,  guide  pratique  est  commentaire. 
Par  Paul  Strauss,  Senateur  de  la  Seine,  et  Alfred  Fil- 
LASSiER,  Docteur  en  Droit.  Deuxieme  edition  revue  et  tres 
augmentee.    Paris:  Jules  Rousset,  1905.    Pp.  504. 

The  law  which  went  into  effect  on  February  15,  1903,  is  the 
present  expression  of  the  conclusion  reached  by  the  administrative 
genius  of  a  great  nation  after  more  than  a  century  of  experiments  in 
all  directions.  The  philosophy  of  the  law  is  summarized  by  the 
authors  in  the  introduction.  It  is  the  purpose  of  the  code  to  secure 
the  establishment  of  sanitary  regulations  in  every  commune  in  the 
country ;  to  introduce  regulations  looking  to  the  prevention  of  dis- 
ease and  securing  conditions  of  health ;  to  provide  for  exceptional 
measures  in  times  of  epidemics ;  the  protection  of  sources  of  water 
supply ;  the  regulation  of  buildings  in  the  interest  of  health. 

An  important  step  in  advance,  marked  by  the  usual  increase  of 
central  administrative  control,  is  the  transfer  of  authority  over 
unhealthy  dwellings  from  local  commissions  to  commissions  of  dis- 
tricts, whose  members  are  nearly  all  appointed  by  the  prefect.  The 
consulting  committee  of  public  hygiene  in  France  is  given  consider- 
able control  over  drinking-water  in  certain  situations.  The  state, 
the  departments,  and  the  communes  share  the  necessary  expenses. 

The  details  of  the  law  and  of  the  administrative  regulations  issued 
to  give  it  full  effect  offer  valuable  suggestions  for  our  boards  of 
health  and  legislators  who  are  beginning  to  meet  the  problems  of  city 
residence  and  more  compact  rural  population.  The  topics  of  the  law 
indicate  the  scope  of  the  discussion :  sanitary  regulations  of  com- 
munes ;  models  of  sanitary  codes  for  cities  and  towns ;  public  ways ; 
houses  and  lodgings  ;  management  of  contagious  diseases  ;  vaccina- 
tion ;  disinfection ;  care  of  drinking-water ;  construction  of  build- 
ings ;  organization  of  local  and  general  administrative  bodies ;  and 
penal  sanctions  of  the  law.  The  name  of  Senator  Strauss  gives  to 
the  volume  the  authority  of  one  of  the  principal  leaders  of  philan- 


272  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

thropy  in  France,  one  who  today  represents  in  the  national  legislature 
the  most  progressive  modern  measures  in  respect  to  public  relief. 

C.  R.  Henderson. 


Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Revivals.  By  Frederick  Morgan 
Davenport.    New  York :  The  Macmillan  Co.    Pp.  x  -j-  323. 

After  a  sketch  of  the  mental  traits  of  primitive  man,  a  brief  study 
of  the  psychological  traits  of  a  "  crowd,"  and  a  presentation  of  the 
suggestive  elements  in  the  ghost  dances  of  the  American  Indian  and 
the  religious  revivals  of  the  American  negro,  the  author  devotes  the 
larger  part  of  his  treatise  to  a  detailed  description  of  the  great  reli- 
gious revivals  of  England  and  the  United  States.  His  collection  of 
materials  in  this  field  is  highly  interesting,  and  a  valuable  supplement 
to  Stoll's  Suggestion  und  Hypnotismus  in  der  V olkerpsychologie. 

While  not  unsympathetic  with  religious  revivals.  Professor 
Davenport  points  out  that  areas  of  greatest  religious  excitability  in 
the  South  are  also  areas  of  most  frequent  lynchings,  and  that  the 
prevalence  of  rational  over  emotional  mental  processes  is  finally  fatal 
to  religious  revivals,  lynching,  and  political  oratory.  "  The  influence 
upon  the  world  of  growing  men  in  our  time  is  to  be  more  and  more 
the  indefinable  and  the  unobtrusive  influence  of  personal  character." 

W.  I.  Thomas. 


The  Place  of  Industries  in  Elementary  Education.     By  Katha- 
rine Elizabeth  Dopp.     Chicago:   University  of  Chicago 
Press.    Third  edition,  1905.    Pp.  270. 
Dr.  Dopp  had  the  fortunate  conception  of  presenting  for  teachers 
a  most  important  element  in  education  —  the  manual  element  —  in 
the   light  of  modern   psychological,   race-psychological,   and   peda- 
gogical results,  and  the  third  edition  remains,  perhaps,  the  most  sug- 
gestive single  work  which  can  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  teachers. 
It  is,  indeed,  of  more  importance  just  now  that  teachers  should  be  in 
possession  of  this  volume  than  that  improved  textbooks  should  be 
in  the  hands  of  the  pupils.     The  third  edition  is  improved  by  the 
addition  of  numerous  illustrations,  and  an  important  chapter  on  the 
ways  of  procuring  a  material  equipment,  and  the  ways  of  using  it  so 
as  to  enhance  the  value  of  colonial  history. 

W.  I.  Thomas. 


REVIEWS  273 

The  Bontoc  Igorot.    By  Albert  Ernest  Jenks,    Manila,  1905. 

Pp.  266. 
Negritos  of  Zambales.  By  William  Allan  Reed,  Manila, 
1904.  Pp.  89. 
No  government  as  such  has  done  so  much  for  the  promotion  of 
the  study  of  early  forms  of  society  and  the  non-civilized  races  as  the 
government  of  the  United  States,  and  these  two  volumes  (Vol.  I, 
and  Vol.  II,  Part  i)  of  the  publications  of  the  Ethnological  Survey 
of  the  Philippines,  we  may  hope,  are  the  beginning  of  a  series  which 
will  be  of  as  much  significance  to  science  as  the  Reports  of  the 
Bureau  of  American  Ethnology.  Dr.  Jenks  and  Mr.  Reed  have 
made  a  most  creditable  beginning.  Their  profuse  use  of  photographs 
is  fortunate,  and  their  tendency  to  give  a  description  of  the  whole 
life  of  the  people,  and  to  disclose  the  intimate  and  personal  side  of 
the  life  of  the  natives,  is  most  welcome  to  those  of  us  who  are  more 
immediately  interested  in  problems  of  mental  and  social  development 
than  in  physical  statistics. 

W.  I.  Thomas. 


RECENT  LITERATURE 


BOOKS 


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in  the  United  States.  Winston.  $2 
net. 

Bryce,  J.  Marriage  and  divorce.  Ox- 
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Cormes,  J.  Modern  housing  in  town 
and  country.  Illustrated  by  examples 
of  municipal  and  other  schemes  of 
block  dwellings,  tenement  houses, 
model  cottages  and  villages.  Lon- 
don :    Batsford.     7s.  6d.  net. 

Creasey,  C.  H.  Technical  education  in 
evening  schools.  Swan,  Sonnen- 
schein  &  Co. 

Cutler,  J.  E.  An  investigation  into 
the  history  of  lynching  in  the  United 
States.      Longmans.     6s.   net. 

Daranyi,  L  State  and  agriculture  in 
Hungary :  report  of  the  Minister  of 
Agriculture,  1896-1903 ;  trans>  by 
A.    Gyorgy.      Macmillan.      $1.60    net. 

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textbook  of  sociology.  Macmillan. 
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Deherain,  H.  L'expansion  des  Boers 
au  xixe  siecle.  Paris :  Hachette. 
Fr.  3-6. 

Eastman,  F.  M.  The  taxation  of  pub- 
lic service  corporations  in  Pennsyl- 
vania. Philadelphia :  G.  T.  Bisel 
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nominational teaching.  London :  G. 
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Hollis,  A.  C.  The  Masai :  their  lan- 
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Ireland,  A.  The  far  eastern  tropics : 
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nial administration  and  policy  in 
Hong  Kong,  Burma.  French  Indo- 
China,  Java,  the  Philippines,  and 
elsewhere. 

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in  connection  with  bills  to  establish 
laboratories  under  federal  and  state 
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inal, pauper,  and  defective  classes ; 
with  bibliography.     Gov.    Pr.     $0.40. 

Montferrat  (Marquis  de  Barrat).  De 
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face de  M.  le  Comte  d'Haussonville. 
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Murray,  S.  L.  The  peace  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  :  to  the  workingmen  and 
their  representatives.  Preface  by 
Field-Marshall  Earl  Roberts.  Lon- 
don :     Watts.     2s.   6d.   net. 

O'Riordan,  Rev.  M.  Catholicity  and 
progress  in  Ireland.  London :  Paul, 
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Peddar,  H.  C.  The  shadow  of  Rome; 
or,  the  relations  of  the  papal  system 
to  progress  and  national  life.  Lon- 
don :    E.  Stock,  3s.  6d.  net. 

Poor  Law  Annual  (The)  :  the  guar- 
dians' and  officers'  companion  for 
1905-6.  London :  Poor  Law  Pub. 
Co.     3S. 

Pullen-Bury,  B.  Ethiopia  in  exile ; 
or,  Jamaica  revisited.  "  How  to  deal 
with  the  Jamaican  Negro  is  the  most 
pressing  and  prominent  topic  dealt 
with." 

Ross,  E.  A.  Foundations  of  sociology. 
Macmillan.     5s.  net. 

Santayana,  G.  The  life  of  reason ;  or, 
the  phases  of  human  progress.  Vol. 
I.  Introduction  and  Reason  in  com- 
mon sense.  Vol.  II.  Reason  in 
society. 

Sebillot,  Paul.  Le  folk-lore  de  France. 
Tome  deuxieme.  La  mer  et  les  eaux 
douces.      Paris:     Guilmoto.      Fr.    16. 

Stow,  G.  W.  The  nature  races  of 
South  Africa :  a  history  of  the  in- 
trusion of  the  Hottentots  and  Bantu 
into  the  hunting  grounds  of  the 
Bushmen,  the  aborigines  of  the  coun- 
try.    Illus.     Macmillan.     $6.50  net. 

Suyematsu,  Baron  Kencho.  The  Ja- 
panese" character  :  a  lecture  delivered 
before  the  Ethnological  Society. 
London :    Siegle.     6d.  net. 


274 


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275 


Thwaites,  R.  G.  Early  western  travels, 
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and  economic  conditions  in  the 
middle  and  far  west  during  the 
period  of  early  American  settlement. 
31  vols.  Vols.  XV-XVIII.  Cleve- 
land :  Arthur  H.  Clark  Co.  Per  vol., 
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Underfed  Children :  Report  of  Joint 
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Wallace,  Sir  Donald  Mackenzie.  Rus- 
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Wemyss,  Rt.  Hon.,  the  Earl  of.  Tem- 
perance legislation  and  human  lib- 
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of  Lords,  May  29,  1905.  Liberty  and 
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Woodruff,  C.  E.  Effects  of  tropical 
light  on  white  men.     Rebman.     $2.50. 


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NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS 


FRANCIS  GALTON  ON  EUGENICS 
DISCUSSION    IN    THE    SOCIOLOGICAL    SOCIETY,    LONDON* 

Dr.  Haddon  '  said :  We  have  been  greatly  favored  this  afternoon  in 
listening  to  one  who  has  devoted  his  life  to  science  and  has  just  presented  us, 
in  so  able  a  paper,  with  the  conclusions  of  his  mature  age.  Future  generations 
will  hold  the  name  of  Dr.  Galton  in  high  reverence  for  the  work  he  has  done 
in  so  firmly  establishing  the  theory  of  evolution,  and  I  consider  that  we  have 
listened  to  a  memorable  paper,  which  will  mark  a  definite  stage  in  the  history 
of  the  subject  with  which  Dr.  Galton's  name  will  remain  imperishably  asso- 
ciated. It  is  refreshing,  if  Dr.  Galton  will  allow  me  to  say  so,  to  find  a  man 
of  his  years  formulating  such  a  progressive  policy ;  for  this  is  generally  sup- 
posed to  be  a  characteristic  of  younger  men :  but  he  has  done  so  because  all 
his  life  he  has  been  studying  evolution.  He  has  seen  what  evolution  has 
accomplished  among  the  lower  animals ;  he  has  seen  what  man  can  do  to 
improve  strains  of  animals  and  plants  by  means  of  careful  selection  ;  and  he 
foresees  what  man  may  do  in  the  future  to  improve  his  own  species  by  more 
careful  selection.  It  is  possible  for  people  to  change  their  customs,  ideas,  and 
ideals.  We  are  always  accustomed  to  regard  the  savages  as  conservative,  and 
so  they  are ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  savages  do  change  their  views.  In 
Australia  we  find  that  different  tribes  have  different  marriage  customs  and 
different  social  regulations,  and  it  will  be  generally  found  that  the  change  in 
marriage  custom  or  social  control  is  nearly  always  due  to  betterment  in  their 
physical  conditions.  The  tribes  which,  as  some  of  us  believe,  have  the  more 
primitive  marital  arrangements,  are  those  which  live  in  the  least  favored 
countries  :  and  the  tribes  which  have  adopted  father-right  are  those  which  live 
under  more  favorable  conditions.  In  Melenesia,  Africa,  and  in  India  social 
customs  vary  a  very  great  deal,  and  this  proves  that  even  their  marriage  cus- 
toms are  not  in  any  way  hide-bound,  and  that  social  evolution  is  taking  place. 
When  circumstances  demand  a  change,  then  a  change  takes  place,  perhaps  more 
or  less  automatically,  being  due  to  a  sort  of  natural  selection.  There  arc 
thinking  people  among  savages,  and  we  have  evidence  that  they  do  consider 
and  discuss  social  customs,  and  even  definitely  modify  them  ;  but,  on  the  whole, 
there  appears  to  be  a  general  trend  of  social  factors  that  cause  this  evolution. 
There  is  no  reason  why  social  evolution  should  continue  to  take  place  among 
ourselves  in  a  blind  sort  of  way ;  for  we  are  intelligent  creatures,  and  we 
ought  to  use  rational  means  to  direct  our  own  evolution.  Further,  with  the 
resources  of  modern  civilization,  we  are  in  a  favorable  position  to  accelerate 
this  evolution.  The  world  is  gradually  becoming  self-conscious,  and  I  think 
Dr.  Galton  has  made  a  very  strong  plea  for  a  determined  effort  to  attempt  a 
conscious  evolution  of  the  race. 

Dr.  Mott  °  said :  I  have  to  say  that  I  think  it  is  of  very  great  importance 
to  the  nation  to  consider  this  subject  of  eugenics  very  seriously.  Being  engaged 
as  pathologist  to  the  London  County  Council  Asylums,  I  see  the  effect  of 
heredity    markedly    on    the    people    admitted    into    the    asylums.      The    improve- 

'  This  Journal,  Vol.   XI,   p.    ii. 

'  F.R.S. ;  lecturer  on  anthropology,  Cambridge  University ;  ex-president 
of  the  Anthropological   Institute. 

*  F.R.S. ;  Croonian  lecturer,  etc. ;  pathologist  to  the  London  County  Coun- 
cil  Asylums,  etc. 

277 


278 


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ment  of  the  stock  can  in  my  opinion  be  brought  about  in  two  ways:  (i)  by 
segregation,  to  some  extent  carried  on  at  present,  which  in  some  measure 
checks  the  reproduction  of  the  unfit;  and  (2)  by  encouraging  the  reproduction 
of  the  fit.  Checking  the  reproduction  of  the  unfit  is  quite  as  important  as 
encouraging  the  reproduction  of  the  fit.  This,  in  my  opinion,  could  be  effected, 
to  some  extent,  by  taking  the  defective  children  and  keeping  them  under  con- 
trol, at  least  a  certain  number  that  are  at  present  allowed  to  have  social 
privileges.  It  would  be  for  their  own  welfare  and  the  welfare  of  the  com- 
munity ;  and  they  would  suffer  no  hardship,  if  taken  when  quite  young.  This 
is  included  in  the  question  of  eugenics  which  Dr.  Galton  has  brought  forward, 
and  has  shown  his  practical  sympathy  with,  by  establishing  a  fellowship,  which 
will,  no  doubt,  do  great  good  in  placing  the  subject  on  a  firm  basis,  and  also 
in  getting  a  wide  intellectual  acceptance  of  the  principle.  It  seems  to  me 
the  first  thing  required  is  that  it  should  become  generally  known  that  it  is 
to  the  advantage  of  the  individual  and  of  the  race  to  have  a  healthy  heritage. 
Whether  any  practical  steps  could  be  taken  to  forward  this  principle,  when 
it  has  a  widespread  acceptance,  is  a  question ;  and  I  consider  that  any  state 
interference  would  be  harmful  at  first,  but  it  would  be  proper  for  the  state 
to  encourage  setting  up  registry  offices  where  not  only  a  form  would  be  griven, 
with  particulars  as  to  marriage,  but  also  a  form  that  would  give  a  bill  of  health 
to  the  contracting  parties ;  and  that  bill  of  health  should  be  of  some  value, 
not  only  to  the  possessors,  but  to  their  children.  If  children  had  a  good 
heritage,  there  is  no  doubt  it  would  have  actuarial  value,  in  the  matter,  for 
instance,  of  obtaining  life-insurance  policies  at  a  more  reasonable  rate ;  also 
in  obtaining  municipal  and  government  employment,  because  the  chances  of 
paying  pensions  to  people  who  have  a  good  heritage  is  very  much  less.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  subject  is  one  of  national  importance,  and  this  society, 
by  spreading  the  views  of  Dr.  Galton,  will  do  a  very  gTt&t  work,  not  only 
for  individuals,  but   for  the   race  as  a  whole. 

Mr.  a.  E.  Crawley  *  said :  Dr.  Galton's  remarkable  and  suggestive  paper 
shows  how  anthropological  studies  can  be  made  fruitful  in  practical  politics. 
Sociology  should  be  founding  its  science  of  eugenics  upon  anthropology,  psy- 
chology, and  physiology.  I  hope  that  it  will  avoid  socialistic  dreams  and  that, 
while  chiefly  considering  the  normal  individual,  it  will  not  forget  the  special 
claims  of  those  abnormal  persons  whom  we  call  geniuses.  In  a  well-ordered 
state  they  should  be  considered  before  the  degenerate   and   the  diseased. 

With  regard  to  one  or  two  minor  matters :  I  should  like  to  ask  the 
author  if  he  has  examined  the  evidence  for  McLennan's  examples  of  marriage 
by  capture.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  a  very  important  point,  but  anthropological 
theories  are  often  houses  of  cards,  and  I  doubt  the  existence  of  a  single  real 
case  of  capture  as  an  institution.  As  to  exogamy,  it  is  important  to  under- 
stand that  in  the  great  majority  of  cases  it  is  really  endogamous,  that  is  to 
say,  the  favorite  marriage  in  exogamy  is  between  first  cousins,  and  the  only 
constant  prohibition  is  that  against  the  marriage  of  brothers  and  sisters. 
Exogamy,  in  fact,  as  Dr.  Howitt,  Dr.  Frazer,  and  myself  agree,  reduces  to 
this  one  principle.  McLennan,  the  inventor  of  exogamy,  never  understood  the 
facts,  and  the  term  is  meaningless.  If,  as  I  have  suggested  in  Nature,  the 
normal  type  of  primitive  marriage  was  the  bisectional  exogamy  seen  in 
Australia,  which  amounts  to  cross-cousin  marriage,  two  families,  A  and  B, 
intermarrying  for  generation  after  generation  —  we  have  found  a  theory  of 
the  origin  of  the  tribe,  an  enlarged  dual  family,  and  we  have  also  worked 
out  a  factor  which  may  have  done  much  to  fix  racial  types.  Lewis  Morgan 
suggested  something  of  the  latter  notion  as  a  result  of  his  consanguine  family. 

I  am  still  persuaded  that  one  or  two  forms  of  union  are  mere  "  sports ;" 
group-marriage,  for  instance,  which  is  as  rare  as  the  marriage  of  brother  and 
sister.  Neither  of  these  can  be  regarded  as  the  primal  type  of  union,  though 
anthropologists   have    actually    so    regarded    them.      I    think    we    may   take    it    as 

*  Author  of  The  Mystic  Rose;  one  of  the  ablest  of  the  younger  anthro- 
pologists. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  279 

certain  that  there  are  two  permanent  polar  tendencies  in  human  nature : 
first,  against  union  within  the  same  home,  and,  secondly,  against  too  pro- 
miscuous   marriage. 

In  questions  like  this  I  think  it  is  most  important  to  avoid  confusing 
sexual  with  matrimonial  concerns.  It  seems  to  me,  on  the  evidence  of  history 
and  anthropology,  that  polygamy  is  the  result  of  such  a  confusion.  For 
efficiency  and  individuality  monogamy  is  the  best  foundation  of  the  family. 
Dr.  Galton  has  not,  I  think,  shown  any  cause  for  concluding  that  the  prohibi- 
tion of  polygamy  is  due  to  social  considerations.  Schopenhauer  indeed  sug- 
gested the  adoption  of  polygamy  as  a  solution  of  the  problem  created  by  the 
preponderance  of  females,  and  as  likely  to  do  away  with  what  he  thought  to 
be  a  false  position,  that  of  the  lady  —  a  position  due  to  Christian  and  chival- 
rous sentimentalism.  His  suggestion,  by  the  way,  shows  the  same  confusion 
between  sexual  and  domestic  matters,  but  it  certainly  would  solve  many 
social  difficulties.  The  sexual  impulse  in  men  seems  to  have  several  normal 
outlets.  In  spite  of  defects,  the  ancient  Greeks  in  their  best  period  seem  to 
show  the  results  of  an  unconscious  eugenic  tradition ;  and  I  believe  the  same 
is  true  of  the   Japanese. 

Dr.  Galton's  suggestions  as  to  the  part  religion  may  play  in  these  matters 
seem  to  me  to  be  excellent.  Religion  can  have  no  higher  duty  than  to  insist 
upon  the  sacredness  of  marriage,  but,  just  as  the  meaning  and  content  of  that 
sacredness  were  the  result  of  primitive  science,  so  modern  science  must  advise 
as  to  what  this  sacredness  involves  for  us  in  our  vastly  changed  conditions, 
complicated    needs,    and    increased    responsibilities. 

Dr.  Alice  Drysdale  Vickery  said  that  there  appeared  to  her  to  be  three 
essentials  to  success  in  any  attempt  to  improve  the  standard  of  health  and 
development  of  the  human  race.  These  were  (i)  the  economic  independence 
of  women,  so  as  to  render  possible  the  exercise  of  selection,  on  the  lines  of 
natural  attraction,  founded  on  mental,  moral,  social,  physical,  and  artistic 
sympathies,  both  on  the  feminine  and  masculine  side;  (2)  the  education  of 
the  rising  generation,  both  girls  and  boys,  so  as  to  impress  them  with  a  sense 
of  their  future  responsibilities  as  citizens  of  the  world,  as  co-partners  in  the 
regulation  of  its  institutions,  and  as  progenitors  of  the  future  race ;  (3)  an 
intelligent  restriction  of  the  birth-rate  so  that  children  should  be  bom  only 
in  due  proportion  to  the  requirements  of  the  community,  and  under  conditions 
which  afforded  a  reasonable  prospect  of  the  efficient  development  of  the 
future  citizens. 

The  present  economic  dependence  of  women  upon  men  was  detrimental 
to  the  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  growth  of  woman,  as  an  individual. 
It  falsified  and  distorted  her  views  of  life,  and,  as  a  consequence,  her  sense 
of  duty.  It  was  above  all  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of  the  coming  genera- 
tion, for  it  tended  to  diminish  the  free  play  and  adequate  development  of  those 
maternal  instincts  on  which  the  rearing  and  education  of  children  mainly 
depended.  The  economic  independence  of  women  was  desirable  in  the  inter- 
ests of  a  true  monogamic  marriage,  for,  without  this  economic  independence, 
the  individuality  of  woman  could  not  exercise  that  natural  selective  power 
in  the  choice  of  a  mate  which  was  probably  a  main  factor  in  the  spiritual 
evolution  of  the  race.  Where  the  sympathetic  attraction  between  those  con- 
cerned was  only  superficial,  instead  of  being  deeply  interwoven  in  all  their 
mutual  interests  and  tastes,  the  apparent  monogamic  relation  only  too  fre- 
quently masked  an  unavowed  polygamy,  or  polyandry,  or  perhaps  both.  There- 
fore it  would  forward  truly  monogamic  marriage  if  greater  facilities  should  be 
afforded  for  the  coming  together  of  those  who  were  spontaneously  and  pre- 
eminently  attracted   to   each   other. 

In  respect  of  limitations  of  offspring,  we  had  to  consider  both  organic 
and  social  criteria.  For  the  determination  of  these,  physiologist  must  com- 
bine with  sociologist.  From  the  individual  and  family  point  of  view,  we 
wanted  guidance  in  determining  the  size  of  family  adapted  to  griven  conditions, 
and    from    the    social    point    of    view    we    wanted    guidance    in    determining   the 


L 


28o  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

numbers  of  population  adapted  to  a  given  region  at  a  given  time.  Incidentally 
it  was  here  worth  noting  that  in  the  case  of  Great  Britain,  the  present  birth- 
rate of  28  per  1,000,  with  a  death-rate  of  15  per  1,000,  giving  an  excess  of 
13  per  1,000,  compared  with  a  birth-rate  of  36  per  1,000,  and  death-rate  of  23 
per  1,000,  shown  by  the  vital  statistics  of  1877 ;  but  yet  the  lower  contem- 
porary birth-rate  gave  the  same,  or  a  rather  higher,  yearly  increase,  i.  e., 
rather  over  400,000  per  annum,  and  with  this  annual  increment  of  between  400,000 
and  500,000,  we  had  to  remember  that  there  fell  upon  the  nation  the  burden  of 
supporting  over  a  million  paupers,  and  a  great  number  of  able-bodied  unemployed. 
It  seemed,  therefore,  desirable  that  sociologists  should  investigate  the  conditions 
and  criteria  of  an  optimum  increase  of  population.  The  remarkable  local  and 
class  differences  in  the  birth-rate  were  well  known.  If  the  birth-rate  of  18  per 
1,000  and  death-rate  of  15  per  1,000  which  prevailed  in  Kensington  could  be  made 
universal  throughout  the  United  Kingdom,  it  would  give,  from  our  total  popula- 
tion of  42,000,000,  a  yearly  increment  beginning  at  130,000.  Incidentally  she 
wished  to  call  attention  to  a  paper  by  M.  Gabriel  Giroud  which  went  to  show 
that  the  food-supplies  of  the  human  race  are  insufficient,  and  that  one-third  of  the 
world's  inhabitants  exist  habitually  in  a  condition  of  semi-starvation. 

The  propositions  which  she  desired  to  submit  were  (i)  that  sexual  selection, 
as  determined  by  the  individuality  of  the  natural  woman,  embodies  eugenic  ten- 
dencies, but  that  these  tendencies  are  more  or  less  countered  and  even  reversed 
by  a  process  of  matrimonial  social  selection  determined  by  the  economic  depend- 
ence of  woman  in  contemporary  occidental  society  —  in  short,  that  eugenics  may 
be  promoted  by  assuring  an  income  to  young  women ;  (2)  that  artificial  control 
of  the  birth-rate  is  a  condition  of  eugenics. 

Mr.  Skrine  said :  Dr.  Galton,  in  treating  of  monogamy,  says  that  polygamy 
is  now  permitted  to  at  least  one-half  of  the  human  race.  I  have  lived  for  twenty- 
one  years  among  polygamists,  and,  having  come  home  to  Europe,  I  seem  to  see 
conditions  prevailing  which  are  not  in  essence  dissimilar.  The  conclusion  I  have 
arrived  at  is  that  monogamy  is  purely  a  question  of  social  sanction,  a  question,  as 
it  were,  of  police.  In  regard  to  endogamy,  we  may  trace  back  its  origin  to  periods 
before  the  dawn  of  history.  The  origin  of  caste  and  endogamous  marriage  is  due, 
I  believe,  to  the  rise  of  powerful  or  intellectual  families,  which  everywhere  tend 
to  draw  to  themselves  less  powerful  families.  The  higher  family  was  looked  up  to, 
and  it  was  thought  an  honor  to  marry  within  it.  And  thus  a  small  group  was 
formed  by  a  combined  process  of  social  and  sexual  election.  The  history  of  cer- 
tain group  formations  determined  by  this  sort  of  marriage  selection  might  be 
compiled  from  that  royal  stud-book,  the  Almanac  de  Gotha.  There  is,  it  is  true, 
the  method  of  evading  the  selective  process  by  the  custom  of  morganatic  marriage, 
but  that  only  proves  the  rule.  Dr.  Galton  has  not  touched  on  polyandry ;  that,  I 
think,  may  be  interpreted  as  one  of  the  devices  for  limiting  population,  and  can  be 
accounted  for,  I  believe,  by  scarcity  of  land. 

Dr.  Westermarck,  speaking  from  the  chair,  said :  Ladies  and  Gentlemen : 
The  members  of  the  Society  have  today  had  an  opportunity  to  listen  to  a  most 
important  and  suggestive  paper,  followed  by  a  discussion  in  which,  I  am  sure,  all 
of  us  have  taken  a  lively  interest.  For  my  own  part,  I  beg  to  express  my  pro- 
found sympathy  and  regard  for  Mr.  Galton's  ardent  endeavors  to  draw  public 
attention  to  one  of  the  most  important  problems  with  which  social  beings,  like 
ourselves,  could  be  concerned.  Mr.  Galton  has  today  appealed  to  historical  facts 
to  prove  that  restrictions  in  marriage  have  occurred  and  do  occur,  and  that  there 
is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  such  restrictions  might  not  be  extended  far  beyond 
the  limits  drawn  up  by  the  laws  of  any  existing  civilized  nation.  I  wish  to 
emphasize  one  restriction  not  yet  touched  upon.  The  husband's  and  father's 
function  in  the  family  is  generally  recognized  to  be  to  protect  and  support  his 
wife  and  children,  and  many  savages  take  this  duty  so  seriously  that  they  do  not 
allow  any  man  to  marry  who  has  not  previously  given  some  proof  of  his  ability 
to  fulfil  it.  Among  various  Bechuana  and  Kafir  tribes  the  youth  is  not  allowed 
to  take  a  wife  until  he  has  killed  a  rhinoceros.  Among  the  Dyaks  of  Borneo,  and 
other  peoples  in  the  Malay  Archipelago,  no  one  can  marry  unless  he  has  acquired 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  281 

a  certain  number  of  human  heads  by  killing  members  of  foreign  tribes.  Among 
the  Arabs  of  Upper  Egypt  the  man  must  undergo  an  ordeal  of  whipping  by  the 
relations  of  his  bride,  and  if  he  wishes  to  be  considered  worth  having,  he  must 
receive  the  chastisement,  which  is  sometimes  exceedingly  severe,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  enjoyment.  [Laughter.]  I  do  not  say  that  these  methods  are  to  be 
recommended,  but  the  idea  underlying  them  is  certainly  worthy  of  imitation. 
Indeed,  we  find  in  Germany  and  Austria,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  laws  for- 
bidding persons  in  actual  receipt  of  poor-law  relief  to  contract  marriages,  and  in 
many  cases  the  legislators  went  farther  still  and  prohibited  all  marriages  until  the 
contracting  parties  could  prove  that  they  possessed  the  means  of  supporting  a 
family.  Why  could  not  some  such  laws  become  universal,  and  why  could  not  the 
restrictions  in  marriage  be  extended  also  to  persons  who,  in  all  probability,  would 
become  parents  of  diseased  and  feeble  offspring?  I  say,  "in  all  probability," 
because  I  do  not  consider  certainty  to  be  required.  We  cannot  wait  till  biology 
has  said  its  last  word  about  the  laws  of  heredity.  We  do  not  allow  lunatics  to 
walk  freely  about,  even  though  there  be  merely  a  suspicion  that  they  may  be 
dangerous.  I  think  that  the  doctor  ought  to  have  a  voice  in  every  marriage  which 
is  contracted.  It  is  argued,  of  course,  that  to  interfere  here  would  be  to  intrude 
upon  the  individual's  right  of  freedom.  But  men  are  not  generally  allowed  to  do 
mischief  simply  in  order  to  gratify  their  own  appetites.  It  will  be  argued  that 
they  will  do  mischief  even  though  the  law  prevent  them.  Well,  this  holds  true  of 
every  law,  but  we  do  not  maintain  that  laws  are  useless  because  there  are  persons 
who  break  them.  There  will  always  in  this  world  be  offspring  of  diseased  and 
degenerated  parents,  but  the  law  may  certainly  in  a  very  considerable  degree 
restrict  their  number  by  preventing  such  persons  from  marrying.  I  think  that 
moral  education  also  might  help  to  promote  the  object  of  eugenics.  It  seems 
that  the  prevalent  opinion,  that  almost  anybody  is  good  enough  to  marry,  is 
chiefly  due  to  the  fact  that  in  this  case  the  cause  and  effect,  marriage  and  the 
feebleness  of  the  offspring,  are  so  distant  from  each  other  that  the  nearsighted  eye 
does  not  distinctly  perceive  the  connection  between  them.  Hence  no  censure  is 
passed  on  him  who  marries  from  want  of  foresight,  or  want  of  self-restraint,  and 
by  so  doing  is  productive  of  offspring  doomed  to  misery.  But  this  can  never  be 
right.  Indeed,  there  is  hardly  any  other  point  in  which  the  moral  consciousness 
of  civilized  men  still  stands  in  greater  need  of  intellectual  training  than  in  its 
judgments  on  cases  which  display  want  of  care  or  foresight.  Much  progress  has 
in  this  respect  been  made  in  the  course  of  evolution,  and  it  would  be  absurd  to 
believe  that  we  have  yet  reached  the  end  of  this  process.  It  would  be  absurd  to 
believe  that  men  would  forever  leave  to  individual  caprice  the  performance  of  the 
most  important  and,  in  its  consequences,  the  most  far-reaching  function  which  has 
fallen  to  the  lot  of  mankind. 

Dr.  Drysdale  said  he  would  like  to  ask  the  chairman  if  he  was  aware  that 
some  of  the  restrictions  he  had  referred  to  were  actually  in  force  in  England. 
In  some  of  the  great  English  banks,  for  instance,  clerks  are  not  allowed  to  marry 
until  their  salary  has  reached  a  certain  level.  But  for  his  part  he  thought  the 
principle  unsound.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  say  to  these  young  men  that  they 
might  marry,  but  that  they  must  restrict  the  number  of  their  children? 

WRITTEN    COMMUNICATIONS 

From  Professor  B.  Altamira  ° :  The  subjects  of  Mr.  Galton's  communica- 
tions are  very  interesting,  and  there  should  be  some  very  valuable  information 
forthcoming  on  the  forms  of  marriage  (endogamy,  exogamy,  etc.)  to  be  unearthed 
from  the  actual  juridical  manners  and  customs  of  Spain.  It  is  a  great  source  of 
regret  to  me  that  pressure  of  other  duties  prevents  me  at  present  from  making 
any  contribution  to  the  subject. 

From  Dr.  Havelock  Ellis  :  The  significance  of  Mr.  Galton's  paper  lies  less 
in  what  is  said  than  in  what  is  implied.  The  title,  "  Restrictions  in  Marriage," 
bristles  with  questions.     We  need  to  know  precisely  what  is  meant  by  "  marriage." 

*  Professor  of  the  history  of  law  in  the  University  of  Oviedo. 


282  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Among  us  today  marriage  is  a  sexual  union  recognized  by  law,  which  is  not 
necessarily  entered  into  for  the  procreation  of  children,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
frequently  remains  childless.  Mr.  Galton  seems,  however,  to  mean  a  sexual  union 
in  which  the  offspring  are  the  essential  feature.  The  distinction  is  important,  for 
the  statements  made  about  one  kind  of  marriage  would  not  hold  good  for  the 
other.  Then,  again,  by  "  restrictions  "  do  we  mean  legal  enactments  or  voluntary 
self-control  ? 

Mr.  Galton  summarizes  some  of  the  well-known  facts  which  show  the 
remarkable  elasticity  of  the  institution  of  marriage.  By  implication  he  asks 
whether  it  would  not  be  wise  further  to  modify  marriage  by  limiting  or  regulating 
procreation,  thus  introducing  a  partial  or  half  monogamy,  which  may  perhaps  be 
called  —  borrowing  a  term  from  botany  —  hemigamy.  I  may  point  out  that  a 
fallacy  seems  to  underlie  Mr.  Galton's  implied  belief  that  the  hemigamy  of  the 
future,  resting  on  scientific  principles,  can  be  upheld  by  a  force  similar  to  that 
which  upheld  the  sexual  taboos  of  primitive  peoples.  These  had  a  religious  sanc- 
tion which  we  can  never  again  hope  to  attain.  No  beliefs  about  benefits  to 
posterity  can  have  the  powerful  sanction  of  savage  taboos.  Primitive  marriage 
customs  are  not  conventions  which  everyone  may  preach  for  the  benefit  of  others, 
and  anyone  dispense  with  for  himself. 

There  is  one  point  in  Mr.  Galton's  paper  which  I  am  definitely  unable  to 
accept.  It  seems  to  be  implicitly  assumed  that  there  is  an  analogy  between 
human  eugenics  and  the  breeding  of  domestic  animals.  I  deny  that  analogy. 
Animals  are  bred  for  points,  and  they  are  bred  by  a  superior  race  of  animals,  not 
by  themselves.  These  differences  seem  fundamental.  It  is  important  to  breed, 
let  us  say,  good  sociologists  ;  that,  indeed,  goes  without  saying.  But  can  we  be 
sure  that,  when  bred,  they  will  rise  up  and  bless  us?  Can  we  be  sure  that  they 
will  be  equally  good  in  the  other  relations  of  life,  or  that  they  may  not  break  into 
fields  for  which  they  were  not  bred,  and  spread  devastation?  Only  a  race  of 
supermen,  it  seems  to  me,  could  successfully  breed  human  varieties  and  keep  them 
strictly  chained  up  in  their  several  stalls. 

And  if  it  is  asserted  that  we  need  not  breed  for  points,  but  for  a  sort  of 
general  all-round  improvement,  then  we  are  very  much  in  the  air.  If  we  cannot 
even  breed  fowls  which  are  both  good  layers  and  good  table  birds,  is  it  likely  that 
we  can  breed  men  who  will  not  lose  at  other  points  what  they  gain  at  one? 
(Moreover,  the  defects  of  a  quality  seem  sometimes  scarcely  less  valuable  than  the 
quality  itself.)  We  know,  indeed,  that  there  are  good  stocks  and  bad  stocks,  and 
my  own  small  observations  have  suggested  to  me  that  we  have  scarcely  yet 
realized  how  subtle  and  far-reaching  hereditary  influences  are.  But  the  artificial 
manipulation  of  human  stocks,  or  the  conversion  of  bad  into  good,  is  still  all  very 
dubious. 

It  would  be  something,  however,  if  we  could  put  a  drag  on  the  propagation 
of  definitely  bad  stocks,  by  educating  public  opinion  and  so  helping  forward  the 
hemigamy,  or  whatever  it  is  to  be  called,  that  Mr.  Galton  foresees.  When  two 
stocks  are  heavily  tainted,  and  both  tainted  in  the  same  direction,  it  ought  to  be 
generally  felt  that  union,  for  the  purposes  of  procreation,  is  out  of  the  question. 
There  ought  to  be  a  social  conscience  in  such  matters.  When,  as  in  a  case  known 
to  me,  an  epileptic  woman  conceals  her  condition  from  the  man  she  marries,  it 
ought  to  be  felt  that  an  offense  has  been  committed  serious  enough  to  annul  the 
marriage  contract.  At  the  same  time,  we  must  avoid  an  extreme  scrupulosity.  It 
19  highly  probable  that  a  very  slight  taint  may  benefit  rather  than  injure  a  good 
stock.  There  are  many  people  whose  intellectual  ability,  and  even  virtues  as 
good  citizens,  seem  to  be  intimately  bound  up  with  the  stimulating  presence  of 
some  obscure  "thorn  in  the  flesh,"  some  slight  congenital  taint.  To  sum  up:  (i) 
let  us  always  carefully  define  our  terms  ;  (2)  let  us,  individually  and  as  a  nation, 
do  our  best  to  accumulate  data  on  this  matter,  following,  so  far  as  we  can,  the 
example  so  nobly  set  us  by  Mr.  Galton  ;  (3)  let  us  educate  public  opinion  as  to  the 
immense  gravity  of  the  issues  at  stake  ;  (4),  in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge, 
let  us  be  cautious  about  laying  down  practical  regulations  which  may  perhaps 
prove  undesirable,  and  in  any  case  are  impossible  to  enforce. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  283 

From  Mrs.  Fawcett  :  Mr.  Galton  evidently  realizes  that  he  has  a  gigantic 
task  before  him,  that  of  raising  up  a  new  standard  of  conduct  on  one  of  the  most 
fundamental  of  human  relations.  At  present,  the  great  majority  of  men  and 
women,  otherwise  conscientious,  seem  to  have  no  conscience  about  their  responsi- 
bility for  the  improvement  or  deterioration  of  the  race.  One  frequently  observes 
cases  of  men  suffering  from  mortal  and  incurable  disease  who  apparently  have  no 
idea  that  it  is  wrong  to  have  children  who  will  probably  enter  life  heavily  handi- 
capped by  inherited  infirmity. 

Two-thirds  of  what  is  called  the  social  evil  would  disappear  of  itself,  if 
responsibility  for  the  welfare  of  the  coming  generation  found  its  fitting  place  in  the 
conscience  of  the  average  man. 

I  wish  all  success  to  Mr.  Francis  Galton's  efforts. 

From  Mr.  A.  H.  Huth  ° :  Everyone  will  sympathize  with  Mr.  Galton  in  his 
desire  to  raise  the  human  race.  He  is  not  the  first,  and  he  wil  not  be  the  last. 
Long  ago  the  Spartans  practiced  what  Mr.  Galton  has  christened  "  eugenics ; " 
and  in  more  modern  times  Frederick  I  of  Prussia  tried  something  of  the  sort. 
I  have  often  thought  that  if  the  human  race  knew  what  was  good  for  them,  they 
would  appoint  some  great  man  as  dictator  with  absolute  power  for  a  time.  At 
the  expense  of  some  pain  to  individuals,  some  loss  of  liberty  for,  say,  one 
generation,  what  might  not  be  done !  Preferably,  they  should  choose  me ;  not 
because  I  think  myself  superior  to  others,  but  I  would  rather  make  the  laws  than 
submit  myself  to  them ! 

Mr.  Galton  shows  very  clearly,  and,  I  think,  indisputably,  that  people  do 
submit  to  restrictions  on  marriage  of  very  different  kinds,  much  as  if  they  were 
laws  of  nature.  Hence  the  deduction  is  drawn  that,  since  people  submit,  without, 
in  most  cases,  a  murmur,  to  restrictions  which  do  not  benefit  the  race,  why  not 
artificially  produce  the  same  thing  in  a  manner  that  will  benefit  the  race? 

There  are,  however,  two  difficulties :  One,  the  smaller,  is  that,  in  our  present 
state  of  civilization,  people  will  not  accept,  as  they  did  in  the  childhood  of  their 
race,  the  doctrine  of  authority.  The  other  is  that  all  the  restrictions  on  marriage 
cited  by  Mr.  Galton,  with  the  one  exception  of  celibacy,  to  which  I  shall  come 
later,  only  impeded,  but  did  not  prevent,  marriage.  Every  man  could  marry  under 
any  of  the  restrictions,  and  only  very  few  women  could  not  lawfully  be  joined  to 
him  in  matrimony. 

Now,  what  is  Mr.  Galton's  contention  ?  He  wishes  to  hasten  the  action  of  the 
natural  law  of  improvement  of  the  race  which  works  by  selection.  He  wishes  to 
do  as  breeders  have  done  in  creating  superior  races  by  the  selection  of  mates.  He 
recognizes  that,  unhappily,  we  cannot  compel  people  to  mate  as  the  scientist 
directs :  they  must  be  persuaded  to  do  so  by  some  sort  of  creed,  which,  however, 
he  does  not  (at  least  in  this  paper)  expressly  define.  You  could  not  make  a  creed 
that  your  choice  of  a  wife  should  be  submitted  to  the  approval  of  a  high-priest  or 
of  a  jury.  You  would  not,  again,  submit  the  question  from  a  quasi-religious  point 
of  view  to  the  like  authorities,  as  to  whether  you  are  to  marry  at  all  or  not.  Mr. 
Galton  does  indeed  point  out  that  people  were  doomed  to  celibacy  in  religious 
communities :  but  here  you  have  either  a  superior  authority  forcing  you  to  take 
the  vows,  or  you  have  the  voluntary  taking  of  the  vows.  Would  the  undesirable, 
the  weak,  the  wicked,  the  frivolous  —  any  of  those  beings  who  ought  not  to 
propagate  their  species  —  take  these  vows  ?  I  fear  not.  Only  the  best,  those 
who  have  strength  of  mind,  the  unselfish  —  in  short,  only  those  who  should 
propagate  their  species  —  would  take  the  vows  with  any  prospect  of  respecting 
them. 

I  have  said  that  Mr.  Galton  is  seeking  to  hasten  a  natural  process.  We  all 
know  the  Darwinian  law  of  the  selection  of  the  fittest ;  and  also  that  other  law  of 
sexual  selection  which  is  constantly  going  on.  I  think  that  even  within  historical 
times  they  have  told.  I  think  that  if  you  study  the  portraits  which  have  come 
down  to  us  (excluding,  of  course,  the  idealistic  productions  of  the  Greeks  and 
some  others),  if  you  study  even  the  prints  of  the  grosser  multitude,  and  then 
walk  down  any  of  the  more  populous  streets  of  London,  you  will  find  that  you  have 

"  Author  of  The  Marriage  of  Near  Kin. 


284  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

reason  to  congratulate  the  race  on  a  decided  general  improvement  in  looks  and 
figure.  We  have  also  undoubtedly  improved  in  health  and  longevity  ;  but  this  may 
be  due,  as  also  the  improvement  in  looks  may  be  partly  due,  to  improvement  in  the 
conditions  of  life.  But  with  all  this,  with  all  these  natural  forces  working 
untiringly,  effectively,  and  imperceptibly  for  the  improvement  of  the  race,  our 
whole  aims  as  a  social  body,  all  our  efforts,  are  directed  to  thwart  this  natural 
improvement,  to  reverse  its  action,  and  cause  the  race,  not  to  endeavor  to  better 
its  best,  but  to  multiply  its  worst. 

The  whole  tendency  of  the  organized  world  has  been  to  develop  from  the 
system  of  the  production  of  a  very  numerous  offspring  ill  fitted  to  survive,  to  the 
production  of  much  fewer  offspring  better  fitted  to  survive,  and  guarded  at  the 
expense  of  the  parents  until  they  were  started  in  life.  This  law  so  permeates  the 
world,  and  is  so  general,  that  it  is  even  true  of  the  higher  and,  lower  planes  of 
humanity.  The  better  classes,  the  more  educated,  and  those  capable  of  greater 
self-denial,  will  not  marry  till  they  see  their  way  to  bring  up  children  in  health 
and  comfort  and  give  them  a  start  in  life.  The  lower  class,  without  a  thought  for 
the  morrow,  the  wastrels,  the  ignorant,  the  selfish  and  thoughtless,  marry  and 
produce  children.  Under  the  ordinary  law  of  nature,  of  course,  the  natural 
result  would  follow :  the  children  of  the  more  desirable  class,  though  fewer,  would 
survive  in  greater  proportion  than  the  more  numerous  progeny  of  the  less 
desirable  class,  and  the  race  would  not  deteriorate.  But  here  legislation,  and,  still 
worse,  the  so-called  philanthropist,  step  in.  Burdens  are  heaped  upon  the  prudent ; 
they  are  taxed  and  bullied  ;  the  means  which  they  have  denied  themselves  to  save 
for  their  own  children  are  taken  from  them  and  given  to  idle  wastrels  in  order  that 
their  children  may  be  preserved  to  grow  up  and  reproduce  their  like.  Not  only 
are  these  children  carefully  maintained  at  the  costs  of  the  more  prudent,  but  their 
wretched  parents  are  fed  and  coddled  also  at  the  expense  of  the  more  worthy, 
and  saved  against  themselves  to  produce  more  of  the  —  shall  I  call  them  kako- 
genetics.  Not  content  with  this,  we  freely  import  from  the  sweepings  of  Europe, 
and  add  them  to  our  breeding-stock. 

In  the  days  when  England  made  her  greatness,  she  did  not  suffer  from  the 
cankers  of  wild  philanthropy  and  a  promiscuous  alien  immigration. 

From  Professor  J.  G.  McKendrick  :  I  am  sorry  that,  owing  to  university 
work,  I  am  not  able  at  present  to  contribute  to  the  discussion  of  Mr.  Galton's  very 
suggestive  papers.  He  is  opening  up  a  subject  of  great  interest  and  importance  — 
more  especially  in  its  relation  to  improving  the  physical,  mental,  and  pure 
qualities  of  the  race.  At  present  much  is  carried  on  by  haphazard,  and  I  fear  the 
consequence  is  that  we  see  indications  of  degeneration  in  various  directions. 

I  heartily  wish  much  success  to  those  who  are  carrying  on  investigations  of 
these  important  problems.  We  are  all  indebted  to  Mr.  Galton  for  his  valuable  and 
deeply  suggestive  papers. 

From  Mr.  C.  A.  Witchell  ' :  There  is  one  factor  operating  in  the  selection 
of  husbands  and  wives  which  will  be  extremely  difficult  to  bring  within  the  purview 
of  eugenics,  and  which  is  yet  supreme  in  its  influence.  The  union  of  the  sexes,  in 
its  higher  form,  is  not  a  matter  of  passion,  but  of  the  more  powerful  and  enduring 
sentiment  which  we  call  love.  The  capturing  of  mates  is  not  confined  to  mankind ; 
the  polygamous  birds  exhibit  it.  But  there  are  birds  that  sing  to  win  a  mate  — 
these  have  a  delayed  courtship ;   and  in  man  this  is  developed  to  still  nobler  ideals. 

Let  a  man  look  around  him  at  a  public  ball.  Would  he  choose  for  mother  of 
his  children  the  woman  who  of  all  present  has  the  greatest  physical  attractions? 
Nothing  of  the  kind.  The  one  he  chooses  (by  instinct)  is  the  one  who  inspires 
him  with  a  certain  elevation  of  spiritual  sentiment,  who,  indeed,  freezes  his 
physical  nature  out  of  his  thought  —  whom  he  could  hardly  pay  a  compliment  to, 
and  yet  whom  he  knows  he  would  select  from  among  them  all.  Why  does  he 
choose  her  ?  Has  he  not  made  selection  through  the  assessors  chosen  by  nature  — 
certain  subtle  and  undefinable  perceptions  received  through  the  senses  of  sight 
and   bearing.     These   perceptions,   fleet   and   instant   messengers,   have   not   been 

*  Author  of  The  Cultivation  of  Man. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  285' 

delayed  by  social  distances.  They  have  pierced  all  the  flimsy  armour  of  fashion, 
they  have  penetrated  the  shams  of  culture,  and  have  told  his  inmost  sense  of 
consciousness  —  his  soul  —  what  hers  is  like.  By  that  knowledge  his  soul  has 
chosen  hers ;  and  tinless  science  can  analyze  this  subtle  process  of  spiritual  selec- 
tion, it  must  stand  aside. 

By  all  means  let  eugenics  advance !  But  let  its  exponents  pause  to  analyze 
first  what  is  now  the  most  powerful  factor  governing  the  selection  of  the  sexes, 
and  seek  to  take  advantage  of  it  rather  than  to  stifle  it  with  mere  physical 
agencies.  To  sterilize  defective  types  is  one  thing ;  to  eliminate  the  criminally 
weak  and  diseased  is  another  —  equally  reasonable.  But  let  us  beware  lest  we  do 
anything  that  may  tend  to  obliterate  by  physical  means  the  higher  instructive 
teachings  of  sexual  selection. 

From  Professor  J.  H.  Muirhead  :  I  think  Mr.  Galton's  suggestions  for  the 
advance  of  the  study  and  practice  of  eugenics  most  important,  and  hope  our 
Society  may  do  something  to  forward  the  subject. 

From  Dr.  Max  Nord.\u  :  The  shortness  of  the  time  at  my  disposal,  and  the 
vastness  of  the  subject  treated  by  Mr.  Galton,  do  not  permit  me  to  deal  with  the 
paper  as  it  deserves.  I  must  limit  myself  to  a  few  obiter  dicta,  for  the  somewhat 
dogmatic  form  of  which  I  crave  the  indulgence  of  the  Sociological  Society. 

Theoretically,  everybody  must  hail  eugenics.  It  is  a  fine  and  obviously 
desirable  ideal,  to  direct  the  evolution  of  the  individual  and  the  race  toward  the 
highest  possible  type  of  humanity.  Practically,  however,  the  matter  is  so  obscure 
and  complicated  that  it  can  be  approached  only  with  hesitation  and  misgivings. 

We  hear  often  people,  even  scientists,  say :  "  We  breed  our  domestic  animals 
and  useful  plants  with  the  greatest  care,  while  no  selection  and  foresight  is  exer- 
cised in  the  case  of  the  noblest  creature  —  man."  This  allusion  to  the  methods 
of  breeding  choice  cattle  implies  a  biological  fallacy.  The  breeder  knows  exactly 
what  he  wants  to  develop  in  his  stock ;  now  it  is  swiftness,  now  it  is  staying 
power ;  here  it  is  flesh,  there  it  is  wool ;  in  this  case  it  is  abundance  of  milk,  in 
that  a  capacity  for  transforming,  quickly  and  completely,  food  into  muscle  and 
fat  of  a  high  market  value.  The  breeder  is  working  out  the  one  quality  he  is 
aiming  at,  at  the  cost  of  other  qualities  which  would  be  of  value  to  the  animal, 
if  not  to  its  owner.  The  selection  practised  by  the  breeder  in  view  of  a  certain 
aim  creates  new  types  that  may  be  economically  superior,  but  are  biologically 
inferior.  To  put  it  flatly :  our  vaunted  thoroughbreds,  the  triumph  of  selection 
exercised  for  many  generations,  may  be  wonderfully  adapted  to  the  one  particular 
end  they  are  destined  for ;  they  may  flatter  our  utilitarianism  and  fetch  high 
prices ;  but  their  general  vital  power  is  diminished ;  they  are  less  resistant  to  the 
injuries  of  life ;  they  are  subject  to  diseases  far  less  frequently,  or  not  at  all, 
met  with  in  non-selected  animals  of  their  kind,  and  if  not  constantly  fostered  and 
protected  by  man,  they  would  be  unable  to  hold  their  own  in  the  struggle  for  life. 

It  is  clear  that  we  cannot  apply  the  principles  of  artificial  breeding  to  man. 
Which  quality  of  his  are  we  to  develop  by  selection?  Of  course,  there  is  the 
ready  answer :  "  Mens  sana  in  corpore  sano."  But  this  is  so  general  and  vague 
a  rule  that  it  means  nothing  when  it  comes  to  practical  application.  There  is  no 
recognized  standard  of  physical  and  intellectual  perfection.  Do  you  want  inches? 
In  that  case,  you  have  to  shut  out  from  your  selection  Frederick  the  Great  and 
Napoleon  I,  who  were  undersized,  Thiers,  who  was  almost  a  dwarf,  and  the 
Japanese  as  a  nation,  as  they  are  considerably  below  the  average  of  some 
European  races.  Yet  in  all  other  respects  than  tallness  they  are  very  recom- 
mendable  specimens  of  our  species.  What  is  your  ideal  of  beauty?  Is  it  a  white 
skin,  clear  eyes,  and  fair  hair?  Then  you  must  favor  the  northern  type  and 
exclude  the  Italian,  Spaniard,  Greek,  etc.,  from  your  selection,  which  would  not 
be  to  the  taste  of  these  nations. 

If  from  somatic  we  turn  to  intellectual  perfection,  we  encounter  the  same 
difficulties.  Some  highly  gifted  individuals  have  inductive,  others  deductive 
talents.  You  cannot  easily  have  in  the  same  man  a  great  mathematician  and  a 
great  poet,  an  inventor  and  a  statesman.  You  must  make  up  your  mind  whether 
yot<  wish  to  breed  artists  or  scientists,  warriors  or  speculative  philosophers.     If 


286  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

you  say  you  will  breed  each  of  these  intellectual  categories,  each  of  those  physical 
types,  then  it  amounts  to  confessing  that  you  will  let  things  pretty  much  have  their 
own  way,  and  that  you  renounce  guiding  nature  and  directing  consciously  the 
species  toward  an  ideal  type.  If  you  admit  that  you  have  no  fixed  standard  of 
beauty  and  mental  attainment,  of  physical  and  intellectual  perfection,  to  propose  as 
the  aim  of  eugenic  selection  ;  if  your  artificial  man-breading  is  not  destined  to 
develop  certain  well-defined  organic  qualities  to  the  detriment  of  others,  then 
eugenics  means  simply  that  people  about  to  marry  should  choose  handsome, 
healthy  young  individuals  ;  and  this,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  a  mere  triviality,  as 
already,  without  any  scientific  consciousness  or  intervention,  people  are  attracted 
by  beauty,  health,  and  youth,  and  repulsed  by  the  visible  absence  of  these  qualities. 

The  principle  of  sexual  selection  is  the  natural  promoter  of  eugenics  ;  it  is  a 
constant  factor  in  biology,  and  undoubtedly  at  work  in  mankind.  The  immense 
majority  of  men  and  women  marry  the  best  individual  among  those  that  come 
within  their  reach.  Only  a  small  minority  is  guided  in  its  choice  by  considerations 
of  a  social  and  economical  order,  which  may  determine  selections  to  which  the 
natural  instinct  would  object.  But  even  such  a  choice,  contrary  as  it  seems  to  the 
principle  of  eugenics,  might  be  justified  to  a  certain  extent.  The  noble  Ernest 
Renan  would  never  have  been  chosen  for  his  physical  apparance  by  any  young 
woman  of  natural  taste ;  nor  would  Darmesteter,  the  great  philologist,  who  was 
afflicted  with  gibbosity.  Yet  these  men  had  high  qualities  that  were  well  worth 
being  perpetuated  in  the  species.  A  young  and  beautiful  woman  could  put  in  a 
plausible  plea  for  her  marrying  an  elderly  rich  financier  or  nobleman  of  not  very 
pleasing  appearance.  In  both  cases  her  proper  organic  qualities  may  vouchsafe 
fair  offspring  which  will  better  develop  in  economically  and  socially  favorable 
surroundings  than  it  would  have  done  in  poverty  and  obscurity,  even  if  the 
father  had  been  a  much  finer  specimen  of  man. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  problem  must  be  approached  from  another  side. 
There  have  been  pure  human  races  in  prehistorical  times.  Actually  every  Euro- 
pean nation  represents  a  mixture,  different  in  its  proportion  only,  of  all  the  races 
of  Europe,  and  probably  some  of  Asia  and  northern  Africa.  Probably  every 
European  has  in  his  ancestry  representatives  of  a  great  number  of  human  types, 
good  and  indifferent  ones.  He  is  the  bearer  of  all  the  potentialities  of  the  species. 
By  atavism,  any  one  of  the  ancestral  types  may  revive  in  him.  Place  him  in 
favorable  conditions,  and  there  is  a  fair  chance  of  his  developing  his  potentialities 
and  of  his  growing  into  resemblance  with  the  best  of  his  ancestors.  The  essential 
thing,  therefore,  is  not  so  much  the  selection  of  particular  individuals  —  every 
individual  having  probably  latent  qualities  of  the  best  kind  —  as  the  creating  of 
favorable  conditions  for  the  development  of  the  good  qualities.  Marry  Hercules 
with  Juno,  and  Apollo  with  Venus,  and  put  them  in  slums.  Their  children  will 
be  stunted  in  growth,  rickety  and  consumptive.  On  the  other  hand,  take  the 
miserable  slum-dwellers  out  of  their  noxious  surroundings,  house,  feed,  clothe 
them  well,  give  them  plenty  of  light,  air,  and  leisure,  and  their  grandchildren, 
perhaps  already  their  children,  will  reproduce  the  type  of  the  fine,  tall  Saxons  and 
Danes  of  whom  they  are  the  offspring. 

If  eugenics  is  only  to  produce  a  few  Grecian  gods  and  goddesses  in  the  sacred 
circle  of  the  privileged  few,  it  has  a  merely  artistico-aesthetical,  but  no  politico- 
ethnological,  interest.  Eugenics,  in  order  to  modify  the  aspect  and  value  of  the 
nation,  must  ameliorate,  not  some  select  groups,  but  the  bulk  of  the  people  ;  and 
this  aim  is  not  to  be  attained  by  trying  to  influence  the  love-life  of  the  masses.  It 
can  be  approached  only  by  elevating  their  standard  of  life.  Redeem  the  millions 
of  their  harrowing  care,  give  them  plenty  of  food  and  rational  hygienics,  and 
allow  their  natural  sympathies  to  work  out  their  matrimonial  choice,  and  you  will 
have  done  all  the  eugenics  that  is  likely  to  strengthen,  embellish,  and  ennoble  the 
race.  In  one  word :  Eugenics,  to  be  largely  efficient,  must  be  considered,  not  as 
a  biological,  but  as  an  economic  question. 

One  word  more  as  to  the  restriction  of  marriage.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
laws  and  customs  have  had,  at  all  times  and  in  all  places,  the  effect  of  narrowing 
the  circle  within  which  the  matrimonial  selection  could  take  place.  But  I  believe 
it  would  be  an  error  to  conclude  that  therefore  it  would  be  within  the  power 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  287 

of  the  legislator  to  modify  these  laws  and  customs,  and  to  create  new  restrictions 
unknown  before  our  own  time.  The  old  marriage  laws  and  customs  had  the 
undisputed  authority  of  religion,  they  were  considered  as  divine  institutions,  and 
superstitious  fears  prevented  transgression.  This  religious  sanction  would  be 
absent  from  modern  restricted  laws,  and,  in  the  case  of  a  conflict  between  passion 
or  desire  and  legal  prohibition,  this  would  weigh  as  a  feather  against  that.  In  a 
low  state  of  civilization  the  masses  obey  traditional  laws  without  questioning 
their  authority.  Highly  differentiated  cultured  persons  have  a  strong  critical 
sense ;  they  ask  of  everything  the  reason  why,  and  they  have  an  irrepressible 
tendency  to  be  their  own  law-givers.  These  persons  would  not  submit  to  laws 
restricting  marriage  for  the  sake  of  vague  eugenics,  and  if  they  could  not  marry 
under  such  laws  in  England,  they  would  marry  abroad ;  unless  you  dream  of  a 
uniform  legislation  in  all  countries  of  the  globe,  which  would  indeed  be  a  bold 
dream. 

From  Professor  A.  Posada  :  Without  entering  into  a  discussion  of  the  bases 
on  which  Mr.  Galton  has  raised  eugenics  as  a  science,  I  find  many  very  acceptable 
points  of  view  in  all  that  is  proposed  by  this  eminent  sociologist. 

The  history  of  matrimonial  relationship  in  itself  discloses  most  interesting 
results.  The  relative  character  of  its  forms,  the  transitory  condition  of  its  laws, 
the  very  history  of  these  would  seem  to  show  that  the  reflex  action  of  opinion 
influences  the  being  and  constitution  of  the  human  family. 

Granting  this,  and  assuming  that  the  actual  conditions  of  the  matrimonial 
regime  —  especially  those  that  bear  upon  the  manner  of  contract  —  must  not  be 
considered  as  the  final  term  of  evolution  (since  they  are  far  from  being  ideal), 
one  cannot  do  less  than  encourage  all  that  is  being  done  to  elucidate  the  positive 
nature  of  matrimonial  union,  and  the  positive  effects  resultant  from  whether  such 
union  was  effected  with  regard,  or  disregard,  to  the  exigencies  of  generation  and 
its  influence  on  descendants. 

Marriage  is  actually  contracted  either  for  love  or  for  gain ;  more  often  than 
not  the  woman  marries  because  she  does  not  enjoy  economic  independence.  In 
such  circumstances  physiological  considerations,  the  influence  of  heredity,  both 
physiological  and  moral,  have  little  or  no  weight  —  perhaps  because  they  are 
neither  sufficiently  known  or  demonstrated  in  such  a  manner  that  the  disastrous 
effects  of  their  disregard  can  induce  direct  motives  of  conduct. 

On  this  account  I  think  that  (.1)  we  should  work  to  elucidate,  in  as  scientific 
a  manner  as  possible,  the  requirements  of  progressive  selection  in  marriage,  and 
we  should  rigorously  demonstrate  the  consequences  of  such  unions  as  are 
decidedly  prejudicial  to  vigorous  and  healthy  offspring ;  (2)  we  should  disseminate 
a  knowledge  of  the  conclusions  ascertained  by  scientific  investigation  and  rational 
statistics,  so  that  these  could  be  gradually  assimilated  by  public  opinion  and  con- 
verted into  legal  and  moral  obligations,  into  determinative  motives  of  conduct. 
But  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  one  cannot  expect  a  transformation  of  actual 
criteria  of  sexual  relationship  from  the  mere  establishment  of  a  science  of 
eugenics,  nor  even  from  the  propagation  of  its  conclusions  ;  the  problem  is  thus 
seen  to  be  very  complex. 

The  actual  criteria  applied  to  sexual  relationships  —  especially  to  those  here 
alluded  to  —  depend  on  general  economic  conditions,  by  virtue  of  which  marriage 
is  contracted  under  the  influence  of  a  multitude  of  secondary  social  predispositions, 
that  have  no  regard  to  the  future  of  the  race ;  and  it  is  useless  to  think  that  any 
propaganda  would  be  sufficient  to  overcome  the  exigencies  of  economic  conditions. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  actual  education  of  both  the  woman  and  the  man  leaves 
much  to  be  desired,  and  more  particularly  in  regard  to  sexual  relationship.  And 
it  would  be  futile  to  think  of  any  effectual  transformation  in  family  life  while 
both  the  man  and  woman  do  not  each  of  them  equally  exact,  by  virtue  of  an 
invulnerable  repugnance  to  all  that  injures  morality,  a  purity  of  morals  in  the 
future  spouse. 

The  day  that  the  woman  will  refuse  as  husband  the  man  of  impure  life,  with  a 
repugnance  equal  to  that  usually  felt  by  man  toward  impure  womanhood,  we  shall 
have  made  a  great  step  toward  the  transformation  of  actual  marriage  —  to  the  gain 
of  future  generations. 


288  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

From  Professor  E.  B.  Poulton  :  I  entirely  agree  with  the  aims  Mr.  Galton 
has  in  view,  and  profoundly  admire  his  papers  on  this  subject.  I  think  they  unfold 
great  possibilities  for  the  human  race. 

From  Hon.  Bertrand  Russell  :  I  have  read  Mr.  Galton's  two  papers  in 
abstract  with  much  interest,  and  agree  entirely  with  the  view  that  marriage  cus- 
toms might  be  modified  in  a  eugenic  direction.  But  I  have  no  views  of  my  own 
worth  expressing  in  a  written  communication  such  as  is  asked  for. 

From  Professor  Sergi  * :  As  an  abstract  proposition  I  believe  Mr.  Galton's 
proposal  is  entirely  right  and  has  many  attractions.  But,  nevertheless,  it  seems  to 
me  to  be  not  easily  practicable,  and  perhaps  even  impossible. 

The  sexual  relations  are  vital  in  the  life  of  all  animal  species.  Any  restric- 
tions, to  be  at  all  tolerable,  must  irrefutably  demonstrate  a  great  and  conspicuous 
gain.  But,  unfortunately,  we  are  ignorant  of  the  consequences  of  restrictions  in 
marriage  relations. 

It  is  important  in  this  connection  to  bear  in  mind  that  in  modern  societies 
there  are  certain  unmistakable  new  tendencies  at  work.  These  tendencies  are  all 
in  the  direction  of  dissolving  the  old  restrictions,  both  religious  and  social.  They 
constitute,  in  fact,  a  movement  toward  what  is  called  "  free  love."  Now,  this 
tendency  runs,  it  seems  to  me,  counter  to  Mr.  Galton's  proposals  and  makes  it 
particularly  difficult  to  initiate  any  retsrictions  of  a  new  form  and  character. 

It  is,  I  believe,  an  illusion  to  expect  that  from  any  intellectual  convictions 
there  may  arise  a  conscious  inhibition  of  sex-relations  in  the  population  generally. 
Instances  are  not  wanting  of  men  of  high  culture  marrying  women  who  are  the 
daughters  of  insane  and  epileptic  parents. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  objections,  which  I  hold  to  be  a  most  serious 
obstacle,  and  even  perhaps  fatal  to  the  practical  application  of  Mr.  Galton's 
eugenic  principles,  nevertheless  I  believe  the  studies  which,  in  the  second  of  his 
two  papers  to  the  Sociological  Society,  he  proposes  to  institute  will  be  both  inter- 
esting and  useful. 

From  Dr.  R.  Steinmetz*:  I  quite  agree  with  Mr.  Galton  and  others  (e.  g.. 
Dr.  Schallmeyer,  of  Munich,  author  of  Vererbung  und  Auslese  im  Lebenslauf  der 
Volker,  1903)  that  one  of  the  highest  objects  of  applied  sociology  is  the  promotion 
of  eugenic  marriages.  I  think  there  is  no  worthier  object  of  discussion  for  a 
sociological  society  than  that  of  the  means  of  this  promotion.  To  be  sure,  the 
thorough  and  real  knowledge  of  the  true,  not  the  expressed  and  the  reputed, 
motives  for  introducing  restrictions  on  marriage  might  be  a  means  to  this  end. 
What  we  want  to  know  is  the  real  objective  cause  of  these  restrictions ;  there  need 
not,  of  course,  have  been  any  conscious  motive  at  all. 

Coming  to  detailed  examination  of  some  points  in  Mr.  Galton's  paper  on 
"  Restrictions  in  Marriage,"  I  would  ask :  Is  it  certain  that  prohibition  of 
polygamy  in  Christian  nations  was  due  "  to  considerations  of  social  well-being," 
as  Mr.  Galton  has  it?  Surely  other  causes  were  also  at  work.  I  think,  where  the 
number  of  adult  men  and  women  is  nearly  equal,  monogamy  is  the  natural  result ; 
polygamy  is  possible  only  when,  by  wars  and  other  causes,  this  proportion  is 
reversed,  and  when  other  circumstances,  as  social  inequality,  allow  some  men  to 
take  more  women  than  one. 

A  special  distribution  of  labor  between  men  and  women  may  contribute  to 
this  result,  but  cannot  be  the  cause  of  it,  as  every  man  wants  the  assistance  of 
more  women  when  he  may  get  them.  And  in  respect  of  sexual  relations  it  has  to 
be  observed  that  many  are  polygamous  in  intention,  and  are  only  deterred  by 
practical  difficulties. 

Social  inequality,  poverty,  successful  wars  are  the  condition  of  polygamy. 
Economical  or  sexual  wants  drive  men  to  it. 

When  these  conditions  are  no  longer  fulfilled,  monogamy  will  replace  it.  This 
is  furthered  by  any  rise  in  the  position  of  women,  by  the  freer  play  of  the  purer 

•  Director  of  the  Museum  and  Laboratory  of  Anthropology,  University  of 
Rome. 

•  Lecturer  on  sociology  in  the  University  of  Leyden. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  289 

sentiments  between  the  sexes,  and  by  at  least  official  or  public  chastity.  I  believe 
I  am  so  far  in  agreement  with  Westermarck's  views  on  the  question.  Christianity 
was  very  ascetic,  as  is  attested  by  Paul's  expressions  in  the  epistle  to  the  Cor- 
inthians. By  these  ascetic  tendencies  Christian  morals  were  opposed  to  polygamy. 
This  tendency  was  enforced  by  the  Christian  ebionistic  sympathies,  by  which  all 
the  fathers  of  the  church  were  governed.  Asceticism  and  social  equality  can  both 
make  for  monogamy.  Monogamy  is  certainly  in  accordance  with  one  very  mighty 
human  instinct,  that  of  jealousy ;  therefore  it  is  the  only  democratic  form  of 
marriage.  And  I  think  it  is  the  only  one  in  harmony  with  the  higher  sentiments 
between  the  sexes,  and  with  a  right  moral  relation  between  offspring  and  parents. 

But,  in  considering  it,  we  should  never  forget  that  it  is  largely  traversed  by 
irregular  love,  whether  this  be  sentimental  or  more  sensual,  and  also  by  very 
general  prostitution  in  all  ages  and  classes. 

So  we  must  be  very  cautious  in  deducing  from  the  fact  of  monogamy  any 
conclusions  as  to  new  and  rational  marriage  regulations,  desirable  as  they  may  be. 

Generally,  the  term  "  endogamy  "  is  employed  in  a  narrower  sense  than  the 
prohibition  of  Greeks  to  marry  barbarian  women  (concubinage  with  them  was 
allowed,  so  the  restriction  was  not  severe). 

I  do  not  consider  that  Mr.  Galton's  view  of  the  causes  and  conditions  of 
endogamy  and  exogamy  is  in  strict  accordance  with  the  results  of  "  anthropology  " 
(the  continental  term  is  "  ethnology  ")  ;  Mr.  Galton  thinks  exogamy  is  usually  to 
be  found  in  "  small  and  barbarous  communities  ;  "  but  combined  with  the  marriage 
restrictions  by  blood-ties,  and  the  very  general  horror  of  incest,  which  are  only  its 
expression,  exogamy  is  by  far  the  commonest  rule  of  the  Chinese  ;  and  the  Hindus 
are  exogamous  in  the  strict  sense,  and  in  the  other  sense  all  civilized  nations  are 
exogamous,  marriage  between  close  kindred  being  prohibited  (Post,  Grundriss  der 
ethnischen  Jurisprudenz,  1897,  pp.  37-42). 

The  possibility  of  the  complicated  Australian  marriage  system,  of  which  we 
know  not  yet  the  real  motives  and  causes,  does  not  at  all  warrant  the  conclusion 
that  "  with  equal  propriety "  it  might  be  applied  "  to  the  furtherance  of  some 
form  of  eugenics  "  among  the  Australians  or  among  us.  The  conclusion  from  the 
Australians  to  us  stands  in  need  of  demonstration  ;  it  cannot  be  assumed.  Is  it 
certain  that  motives  of  the  same  strength  as  those  unknown  may  be  found? 

The  motives  for  the  horror  of  incest  we  do  not  yet  know  quite  certainly. 
Perhaps  they  are  the  result  of  very  deep-seated  and  fundamental  causes,  which 
suggest  the  gravest  caution  in  postulating  their  analogies. 

As  yet  we  are  even  incapable  of  restraining  the  very  deplorable  neo-Malthusian 
tendencies  in  the  higher  classes  and  some  others  in  all  civilized  nations,  nor 
those  very  generally  and  strongly  operating  in  the  eastern  United  States,  in 
France,  in  English  Australia.  We  are  powerless  against  the  dangers  in  this 
direction  with  which  we  are  threatened  by  the  widely  spread  feministic  movement. 

The  race-love  of  civilized  men  and  women  is  regretfully  feeble.  The  real 
problem  is  first  to  enforce  it.  At  present  the  care  for  future  man,  the  love  and 
respect  of  the  race,  are  quite  beyond  the  pale  of  the  morals  of  even  the  best. 

The  nobility  of  old,  yea,  the  patriarchial  family  generally,  entertained  a  real 
love  and  care  for  the  qualities  of  their  offspring.  So,  perhaps,  the  turn  for  this 
feeling  may  come  again.  The  intensification  of  economic  and  social  life  will  raise 
the  demands  on  everybody's  mental  and  bodily  capabilities ;  the  better  knowledge 
of  the  hereditary  qualities  and  their  signification  in  attaining  the  highest  degree  of 
capacity  will  perhaps,  and  I  think  should,  in  some  degree  inevitably  waken  the 
care  for  the  qualities  of  one's  own  offspring. 

I  put  much  more  hope  on  this  resultant  of  intensified  social  demands,  of 
increase  and  spreading  of  pathological  knowledge,  and  of  evermore  enlightened 
egoism,  than  on  public  morals  embracing  the  future  of  the  race.  Improved  care 
for  one's  own  offspring  according  to  science  may  possibly  come.  The  result  will 
be  a  change  in  our  ideas,  morals,  and  morality. 

The  next  measures  that  then  could  be  taken  by  the  legislator  seem  to  be  that 


290  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

formulated  by   Dr.    Schallmeyer   in   his   excellent   paper,   "  Infection   als   Morgen- 
gabe."  " 

From  Sir  Richard  Temple  : 

note  i.    studies  in  national  eugenics 

Topic  I. —  It  seems  to  me  that  definitions  of  "  gifted  "  and  "  capable  "  are 
required.  Are  the  "  gifted  "  to  be  those  who  perform  the  initiative  reasoning,  out 
of  which  the  practical  results  arise  ?  Are  the  "  capable  "  to  be  those  who  bring 
into  effect  the  reasoning  of  the  "  gifted  "  ?  It  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  the 
work  accomplished  in  the  world  is  due  to  both  classes  in  an  equal  degree.  Neither 
can  be  effective  without  the  other.  Both  are  equally  important.  The  success  of 
either  demands  mental  powers  of  a  very  high  order ;  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  it  is 
going  too  far  to  soy,  of  an  equally  high  order.  Then  there  are  those  who  combine 
in  themselves  both  the  capacities,  the  initiative  reasoning  and  the  bringing  into 
effect.  Where  are  these  to  be  placed  ?  Many  who  possess  the  one  in  an  eminent 
degree  also  possess  the  other ;  but,  as  reasoning  and  giving  effect  each  requires 
so  much  thought  and  absorbs  so  much  energy  and  time,  the  majority  have  not  the 
opportunity  to  perform  both.  I  suggest  that,  as  regards  family  eugenics,  both  the 
"  gifted  "  and  the  "  capable  "  be,  if  the  above  definitions  are  to  stand,  taken  as 
divisions  of  one  class  of  mankind.  This  should  be  the  safest  method  of  bringing 
the  inquiry  to  a  practical  result,  because  of  the  tendency,  so  strong  in  human 
beings,  to  look  on  their  own  description  of  work  as  that  which  is  of  the  most 
importance  to  their  kind.  The  great  practical  difficulty  in  the  inquiry  on  the  lines 
indicated,  that  impresses  itself  on  me  is  that,  especially  among  women  —  owing  to 
their  place  in  the  world's  work  —  qualities  essential  to  usefulness  are  frequently 
present  in  individuals  who  are  otherwise  possessed  of  no  spcially  high  mental 
qualities,  and  are  therefore  "  unknown,"  and  in  no  way  remarkable  ;  such  qualities 
as  initiative,  discretion,  "  common-sense,"  perseverance,  patience,  even  temper, 
energy,  courage,  and  so  on,  without  which  the  "  gifted  "  and  "  capable  "  are  apt 
to  be  of  no  practical  value  to  the  world.  I  suggest  that  progress  represents  the 
sum  of  individual  capacities,  past  and  present,  at  any  given  period  among  any 
given  population  in  any  given  environment.  Then  again,  in  the  prosecution  of 
eugenics  by  statistics  of  achievement  there  is  another  great  difficulty,  which  may 
be  best  expressed  in  the  words  of  the  preacher  in  Ecclesiastes :  "  I  returned,  and 
saw  under  the  sun,  that  the  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong, 
neither  yet  bread  to  the  wise,  nor  yet  riches  to  men  of  understanding,  nor  yet 
favour  to  men  of  skill :  but  time  and  chance  happeneth  to  them  all."  Existing 
social  conditions  and  prejudices,  all  the  world  over,  will  force  eugenical  philosophy 
to  take  root  very  slowly.  This  is,  perhaps,  as  it  should  be,  in  view  of  the  above 
practical  reflection. 

Topic  II. —  It  would  appear  that  a  beginning  has  been  made,  as  regards  men, 
in  the  Rhodes  Scholarships. 

NOTE     II.       RESTRICTIONS    IN     MARRIAGE 

In  one  sense,  eugenics  is  the  oldest  and  most  universal  philosophy  in  the 
world,  of  which  the  convention  called  marriage  is  the  outward  and  visible  sign. 
Everywhere,  among  all  peoples  in  all  times,  marriage  was  originated  for  the 
enforcement  and  maintenance  of  real  or  supposed  eugenics.  The  object  of  the 
convention  has  been  fundamentally  always  the  same,  the  direct  personal  advantage 
in  some  tangible  form  of  a  group  in  its  environment.  All  that  can  be  done  by 
individual  philosophers  is  to  give  marriage  a  definite  turn  in  a  direction  deemed 
beneficial,  because  human  beings  in  a  ma.ss,  in  a  matter  affecting  every  individual, 
act  upon  instinct  —  defining  instinct  as  unconscious  reasoning.  In  human  affairs 
the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  instinct  is  custom.  By  reasoning,  instinct  can  be 
given  a  definite  direction,  and  hence  a  definite  form  can  be  g^ven  to  a  custom. 

""  For  my  own  opinions  on  this  vide  "  Die  neuern  Forschungen  zur  Geschichte 
der  menschlichen  Familie,"  Zeitschrift  fur  Socialwissenschaft,  1899;  cf.  my 
"  Die  Wachswuth  der  Feminismus  und  Rasse,"  ibid.,  1904. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  291 

This  has  often  been  accomplished,  but,  so  far  as  I  can  apprehend  history,  reasoning 
has  succeeded  only  in  creating  instinct,  and  thus  custom,  when  the  masses  sub- 
jected to  its  pressure  have  been  able  to  see  the  direct  personal  advantage  to  be 
gained  by  the  line  taken.  This  is  the  practical  point  that  the  eugenical  philosopher 
has  to  keep  ever  before  him.  A  custom  can  be  created.  The  questions  for  the 
philosopher  are  what  should  be  created  and  how  it  should  be  created. 

All  forms  of  marriage  are  due  fundamentally  to  considerations  of  well-being. 
Exogamy  exists  where  it  is  thought  important  abnormally  to  increase  the  num- 
bers of  a  group.  Endogamy  exists  where  it  is  thought  important  in  a  settled  com- 
munity to  reserve  property  and  social  standing  or  power  for  a  limited  group. 
Monogamy,  polygamy,  polyandry,  are  all  attempts  to  maintain  social  well-being 
in  a  form  that  has  seemed  obviously  advantageous  to  different  groups  of  human 
beings.  Religion,  taboo,  and  the  prohibited  degrees  are  all  methods  of  enforcing 
custom  by  moral  force.  The  Australian  marriage  system  is  merely  a  primitive, 
and  therefore  complicated,  method  of  enforcing  custom.  But  the  human  instinct 
as  to  incest  is  something  going  very  deep  down,  as  there  is  the  same  kind  of 
instinct  in  some  of  the  "  higher  "  animals  of  the  two  sexes  when  stabled  together, 
e.  g.,  horses,  elephants.  Celibacy  seems  to  be  due  to  different  causes  in  different 
circumstances,  according  as  to  whether  it  is  enforced  or  voluntary.  In  the  former 
case  it  is  a  method  of  enforcing  marriage  customs  maintained  for  the  supposed 
common  good.  In  the  latter  it  is  due  to  asceticism,  itself  a  universal  instinct  based 
on  a  philosophy  of  personal  advantage. 

The  restrictions  enforced  by  marriage  customs  have  led  to  hypergamy,  a 
mariage  de  convenance  exchanging  position  and  property,  but  really  an  unreason- 
ing form  of  eugenics  adopted  because  of  the  supposed  personal  advantage  ;  and 
this  has  led,  in  one  disastrous  form,  to  female  infanticide  in  a  distinctly  harmful 
degree.  All  the  restrictions  of  marriage  are  modified  in  uncivilized  communities 
by  promiscuity  before  marriage  and  in  civilized  communities  by  hetairism.  The 
greater  the  restrictions,  the  more  systematic  has  hetairism  become.  Illegitimacy 
has  taken  on  many  almost  unrecognizable  forms  in  various  parts  of  the  world.  It 
really  represents  the  result  of  rebellion  against  convention.  Every  one  of  these 
considerations  materially  affects  any  proposition  for  a  reform  of  eugenics.  Caste 
is  the  outward  manifestation  of  an  endogamic  marriage  system  by  the  "  intel- 
lectuals "  of  a  people  for  the  personal  advantage  of  their  own  group  within  the 
nation,  and  imitated  without  reasoning  by  other  groups.  This  system  of  endogamic 
marriage,  adopted  for  the  real  or  supposed  advantage  of  a  group,  has  brought 
about  national  disaster,  for  it  has  made  impossible  the  instinct  of  nationality,  or 
the  larger  group,  and  has  brought  the  peoples  adopting  it  into  perpetual  subjection 
to  others  possessing  the  instinct  of  nationality.  Its  existence  and  practical  effect 
are  a  standing  warning  to  the  eugenical  philosopher,  which  should  point  out  to  him 
the  extreme  care  that  is  necessary  in  consciously  directing  eugenics  into  any 
g^ven  channel. 

From  Professor  Tonnies  " :  I  fully  agree  with  the  scope  and  aims  of  Mr. 
Galton's  "  eugenics,"  and  consequently  with  the  essence  of  the  two  papers  pro- 
posed. But  with  respect  to  details  I  have  certain  objections  and  illustrations  which 
I  now  try  to  explain. 

1.  There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  three  kinds  of  accomplishments  are 
desirable  in  mankind  :  physical,  mental,  and  moral  ability.  Surely  the  three  —  or, 
as  Mr.  Galton  classifies  them,  constitution  (which  I  understand  to  imply  moral 
character)  physique,  and  intellect  —  are  not  independent  variables,  but  if  they  to 
a  large  extent  are  correlate,  on  the  other  hand  they  also  tend  to  exclude  each 
other,  strong  intellect  being  very  often  connected  with  a  delicate  health  as  well 
as  with  poor  moral  qualities,  and  vice  versa.  Now,  the  great  question,  as  it 
appears  to  me,  will  be,  whether  eugenics  is  to  favor  one  kind  of  these  excellencies 
at  the  cost  of  another  one  or  of  both  the  other,  and  which  should  be  preferred 
upder  any  circumstances. 

2.  Under  existing  social  conditions,  it  would  mean  a  cruelty  to  raise  the 
average  intellectual  capacity  of  a  nation  to  that  of  its  better  moiety  of  the  present 

"  Profesor  of  philosophy  in  the  University  of  Kiel. 


292  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

day.  For  it  would  render  people  so  much  more  conscious  of  the  dissonance 
between  the  hopeless  monotony  of  their  toil  and  the  lack  of  recreation,  poorness 
of  comfort,  narrowness  of  prospects,  under  which  they  are  even  now  suffering 
severely,  notwithstanding  the  dulness  of  the  great  multitude. 

3.  The  rise  of  intellectual  qualities  also  involves,  under  given  conditions,  a 
danger  of  further  decay  of  moral  feeling,  nay,  of  sympathetic  affections  generally. 
Town  life  already  produces  a  race  of  cunning  rascals.  Temptations  are  very 
strong  indeed,  to  outrun  competitors  by  reckless  astuteness  and  remorseless  tricks. 
Intelligence  promotes  egotism  and  pleasure-seeking,  very  much  in  contradiction  to 
the  interests  of  the  race. 

4.  A  strong  physique  seems  to  be  correlate  with  some  portions  of  our  moral 
nature,  but  not  with  all.  Refinement  of  moral  feeling  and  tact  are  more  of  an 
intellectual  nature,  and  again  combine  more  easily  with  a  weak  frame  and  less 
bodily  power. 

5.  I  indorse  what  Mr.  Galton  shows,  that  marriage  selection  is  very  largely 
conditioned  by  motives  based  on  religious  and  social  connection  ;  and  I  accept,  as 
a  grand  principle,  the  conclusion  that  the  same  class  of  motives  may,  in  time  to 
come,  direct  mankind  to  disfavor  unsuitable  marriages,  so  as  to  make  at  least 
some  kinds  of  them  impossible  or  highly  improbable ;  and  this  would  mean  an 
enormous  benefit  to  all  concerned,  and  to  the  race  in  general.  But  I  very  much 
doubt  if  a  sufficient  unanimity  may  be  produced  upon  the  question :  Which  mar- 
riages are  unsuitable? 

6.  Of  course,  this  unanimity  may  be  promoted  by  a  sufficient  study  of  the 
effects  of  heredity.  This  is  the  proper  and  most  prominent  task  of  eugenics,  as 
Mr.  Galton  luminously  points  out  by  his  six  topics  to  be  taken  in  hand  under  the 
Research  Fellowship.  Highly  though  I  appreciate  the  importance  of  this  kind  of 
investigations,  to  which  my  own  attention  has  been  directed  at  a  very  early  date, 
I  am  apt  to  believe,  however,  that  the  practical  outcome  of  them  will  not  be  con- 
siderable. Our  present  knowledge,  scanty  and  incoherent  as  it  is,  still  suffices 
already  to  make  certain  marriages,  which  are  especially  favored  by  social  conven- 
tion, by  religion,  and  by  custom,  appear  to  sober-thinking  men  highly  unsuitable. 
Science  is  not  likely  to  gain  an  influence  equivalent  to,  or  even  outweighing,  those 
influences  that  further  or  restrain  particular  classes  of  marriage.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  voice  of  reason,  notably  with  respect  to  hygienic  as  well  as  moral  con- 
siderations, is  often  represented  by  parents  in  contradiction  to  inclinations  or  even 
passions  of  their  offspring  (especially  daughters),  and  the  prevailing  individualistic 
tendencies  of  the  present  age,  greatly  in  favor  of  individual  choice  and  of  the 
natural  right  of  love,  mostly,  or  at  least  very  often,  dumb  that  voice  of  reason  and 
render  it  more  and  more  powerless.  Eugenics  has  to  contend  against  the  two 
fronts :  against  the  mariage  de  convenance  on  the  one  side,  and  the  mariage  de 
passion  on  the  other. 

7.  But  this  applies  chiefly  to  the  upper  strata  of  society,  where  a  certain 
influence  of  scientific  results  may  be  presumed  on  principle  with  greater  likelihood 
than  among  the  multitude.  Mr.  Galton  wishes  the  national  importance  of 
eugenics  to  be  introduced  into  the  national  conscience  like  a  new  religion.  I  do 
not  believe  that  this  will  be  possible,  unless  the  conditions  of  everyday  existence 
were  entirely  revolutionized  beforehand.  The  function  of  religion  has  always 
been  to  give  immediate  relief  to  pressing  discomforts,  and  to  connect  it  with  hopeful 
prospects  of  an  individual  life  to  come.  The  life  of  the  race  is  a  subject  entirely 
foreign  to  popular  feelings,  and  will  continue  to  be  so,  unless  the  mass  should  be 
exempt  from  daily  toil  and  care,  to  a  degree  which  we  are  unable  to  realize  at 
present. 

8.  However,  the  first  and  main  point  is  to  secure  the  general  intellectual 
acceptance  of  eugenics  as  a  hopeful  and  most  important  study.  I  willingly  and 
respectfully  give  my  fullest  sympathy  and  approval  to  this  claim. 

I  have  tried  to  express  my  sentiments  here  as  evoked  by  the  two  most  inter- 
esting papers.  I  have  been  obliged  to  do  so  in  great  haste,  and  consequently,  as 
I  am  aware,  in  very  bad  English,  for  which  I  must  apologize. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  293 

From  Professor  August  Weismann  :  It  has  given  me  great  pleasure  to 
learn  that  a  sociological  society  has  been  formed  in  England,  and  to  see  that  so 
many  distinguished  names  are  associated  with  its  inauguration  and  proceedings. 

As  for  the  request  that  I  should  send  "  an  expression  of  my  views  on  the 
subject  "  of  Mr.  Gallon's  two  papers,  I  fear  I  can  have  nothing  to  say  that  will  be 
at  all  new. 

I  think  there  is  one  question,  however,  of  very  great  importance  which  has 
not  yet,  so  far  as  I  know,  been  investigated,  and  to  which  the  statistical  method 
alone  can  supply  an  answer.  It  is  this :  whether,  when  an  hereditary  disease,  like 
tuberculosis,  has  made  its  appearance  in  a  family,  it  is  afterward  possible  for  it  to 
be  entirely  banished  from  this  or  that  branch  of  the  family ;  or  whether,  on  the 
contrary,  the  progeny  of  these  members  of  the  family  who  appear  healthy  must 
not  sooner  or  later  produce  a  tuberculous  progeny?  I  am  fully  aware  that  there 
exists  already  a  great  mass  of  statistical  matter  on  the  subject  of  "  tuberculosis," 
but  I  cannot  say  that  it  seems  to  me  sufficient,  thus  far,  to  justify  a  sure  conclu- 
'  sion.  Talking  for  myself,  I  am  disposed,  both  on  theoretic  grounds  and  in  view  of 
known  facts,  to  opine  that  a  complete  purification  and  re-establishment  of  such  a 
family  is  quite  possible  in  the  cases  of  slighter  infection.  For  I  believe  that 
hereditary  transmission  in  such  cases  depends  upon  an  infected  condition  of  the 
seed  germ  or  generative  cell ;  that  it  is  conceivable  that  single  generative  cells  of 
the  parent  may  remain  free  from  bacilli ;  that  an  entirely  healthy  child  may  be 
developed  from  one  such  generative  cell,  and  that  from  this  sound  shoot  an 
entirely  healthy  branch  of  the  family  may  grow  in  time.  I  would  almost  go  so  far 
as  to  say  that,  if  this  were  not  the  case,  then  there  could  hardly  be  a  family  on 
earth  today  unaffected  by  hereditary  disease. 

Let  me  ask  you  to  accept  this  note  as  merely  an  indication  of  my  willingness 
to  make  at  least  a  very  small  contribution  to  the  list  of  those  sociological  problems 
which  you  aim  at  solving. 

From  Hon.  V.  Lady  Welby  :  It  is  obvious  that  in  the  question  of  eugenic 
restrictions  in  marriage  there  are  two  points  of  view  from  which  we  may  work : 
(1)  that  of  making  the  most  of  the  race,  which  concentrates  interest,  not  on  the 
parents  —  who  are  then  merely,  like  the  organism  itself,  the  germ-carrier  —  but 
always  on  the  children  (in  their  turn  merely  race-bearers)  ;  and  (2)  that  of  mak- 
ing the  most  of  the  individual,  and  thus  raising  the  standard  of  the  whole  by 
raising  that  of  its  parts.  May  we  not  say  that  we  must  learn  to  marry  these 
points  of  view?  Indeed,  already  they  may  be  said  to  be  married  in  actual  family 
life ;  for,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  mother  represents  the  first,  and  the  father  the 
second. 

In  my  small  contribution  to  the  discussion  on  Mr.  Galton's  first  paper  I 
appealed  to  women  to  realize  more  clearly  their  true  place  and  gift  as  representing 
their  original  racial  motherhood,  out  of  which  the  masculine  and  feminine  char- 
acters have  arisen.     It  seems  advisable  now  to  take  somewhat  wider  ground. 

When,  in  the  interests  of  an  ascending  family  ideal,  we  emphasize  the  need 
for  restrictions  on  marriage  which  shall  embody  all  those,  as  summarized  in  Mr. 
Galton's  paper,  to  which  human  societies  have  already  submitted,  we  have  to  con- 
summate a  further  marriage  —  one  of  ideas  ;  we  have  to  combine  what  may  appear 
to  be  incompatible  aims.  In  the  first  place,  in  order  to  foster  all  that  makes  for  a 
higher  and  nobler  type  of  humanity  than  any  that  we  have  yet  known  how  to 
realize,  we  must  face  the  fact  that  some  sacrifice  of  emotion,  because  relatively 
unworthy,  is  imperative.  Else  we  weaken  "  the  earnest  desire  not  to  infringe  the 
sanctity  and  freedom  of  the  social  relations  of  a  family  group."  But  the  sacrifice 
is  of  an  emotion  which  has  ceased  to  make  for  man  and  now  makes  for  self  or  for 
reversion  to  the  sub-human. 

We  are  always  confronted  with  a  practical  paradox.  The  marriage  which 
makes  for  the  highest  welfare  of  the  united  man  and  woman  may  be  actually 
inimical  to  the  children  of  that  union.  The  marriage  which  makes  for  the  highest 
type  of  family,  and  its  highest  and  fullest  development,  may  often,  and  must 
always  tend  to,  mean  the  inhibition  of  much  that  makes  for  individual  perfection. 

And  since  the  children  in  their  turn  will  be  confronted  by  the  same  initial 


294  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

difficulty,  it  may  be  desirable  not  only  to  define  our  aim  and  the  best  method  of 
reaching  it,  but  to  suggest  one  or  two  simple  prior  considerations  which  are  seldom 
taken  into  account.  One  of  these  is  the  fact  that,  speaking  generally,  human 
development  is  a  development  of  the  higher  brain  and  its  new  organ,  the  hand. 
It  may,  I  suppose,  be  said  that  the  rest  of  the  organism  has  not  been  correspond- 
ingly developed,  but  remains  essentially  on  the  animal  level.  What  especially  con- 
cerns us  here  is  that  this  includes  the  uterine  system,  which  has  even  tended  to 
retrograde.  Here,  surely,  we  have  the  key  to  many  social  and  ethical  difficulties  in 
the  marriage  question. 

This  relatively  enormous  complexity  of  brain,  disturbing,  or  at  least  altering, 
the  organic  balance,  coupled  with  the  sexual  incompleteness  of  the  individual,  has 
cost  us  dear.  All  such  special  developments  involving  comparative  overgrowth 
must  do  this.  In  this  case  we  have  gained,  of  course,  a  priceless  analytical,  con- 
structive, and  elaborative  faculty.  But  there  seems  to  be  many  indications  that 
we  have  correspondingly  lost  a  direct  and  trustworthy  reaction  to  the  stimuli  of 
nature  in  its  widest  sense  —  a  reaction  that  should  deserve  the  name  of  intuition 
as  representing  a  practically  unerring  instinct.  A  eugenic  advance  secured  by  an 
increase  of  moral  sensitiveness  on  the  subject  of  parentage  may  well  tend  to 
restore  on  a  higher  level  these  primordial  rsponses  to  excitation  of  all  kinds. 
But,  of  course,  it  will  still  rest  with  education,  in  all  senses  and  grades,  either 
(as,  on  the  whole,  at  present)  to  blunt  or  distort  them,  or  to  interpret  and  train 
them  into  directed  and  controlled  efficiency. 

At  present  our  mental  history  seems  to  present  a  curious  anomaly.  On  the 
one  hand  we  see  what,  compared  with  the  animal,  and  even  with  the  lower 
intellectual  human,  types,  is  an  amazing  development  of  logical  precision,  ordered 
complexity  of  reasoning,  rigorous  validity  of  conclusion ;  all  ultimately  depending 
for  their  productive  value  on  the  validity  of  the  presuppositions  from  which  they 
start.  On  the  other  hand,  this  initial  validity  can  but  seldom,  if  ever,  be  proved 
experimentally  or  by  argument,  or  established  by  universal  experience.  Thus  the 
very  perfection  of  the  rational  development  is  always  liable  to  lead  us  farther  and 
farther  astray.  The  result  we  see  in  endless  discussions  which  tend  rather  to 
divide  than  to  unite  us  by  hardening  into  opposed  views  of  what  we  take  for 
reality,  and  to  confuse  or  dim  the  racial  outlook  and  hinder  the  racial  ascent. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  one  result  of  the  creation  of  a  eugenic  conscience  will 
be  a  restoration  of  the  human  balance,  bringing  about  an  immensely  increased 
power  of  revising  familiar  assumptions,  and  thus  of  rightly  interpreting  experience 
and  the  natural  world.  This  must  make  for  the  solution  of  pressing  problems 
which  at  present  cannot  even  be  worthily  stated.  For  there  is  no  more  significant 
sign  of  the  present  deadlock  resulting  from  the  anomaly  just  indicated,  than  the 
general  neglect  of  the  question  of  effective  exprssion,  and  therefore  of  its  central 
value  to  us ;    that  is,  what  we  are  content  vaguely  to  call  its  meaning. 

Such  a  line  of  thought  may  seem,  for  the  very  reason  of  this  neglect,  far 
enough  from  the  subject  to  be  dealt  with  —  from  the  question  of  restrictions  in 
marriage.  But  in  the  research,  studies,  and  discussions  which  ought  to  precede  any 
attempt  in  the  direction  of  giving  effect  to  an  aroused  sense  of  eugenic  responsi- 
bility, surely  this  factor  will  really  be  all-important.  It  must  be  hoped  that  such 
discussion  will  be  carried  on  by  those  in  whom  what,  for  convenience  sake,  I 
would  call  the  mother-sense,  or  the  sense  of  human,  even  of  vital,  origin  and 
significance,  is  not  entirely  overlain  by  the  priceless  power  of  co-ordinating  subtle 
trains  of  reasoning.  For  this  supreme  power  easily  defeats  itself  by  failing  to 
examine  and  rectify  the  all-potent  starting-point  of  its  activities,  the  simple  and 
primary  assumption. 

I  have  admitted  that  the  foregoing  suggestions  —  offered  with  all  diffidence  — 
seem  to  be  far  from  the  present  subject  of  discussion,  with  which,  indeed,  I  have 
not  attempted  directly  to  deal.  I  would  only  add  that  this  is  not  because  such 
questions  have  not  the  deepest  interest  for  me.  as  for  all  who  realize  their  urgency. 

We  shall  have  to  discuss,  though  I  hope  in  some  cases  privately,  such  ques- 
tions as  the  influence  on  descendants  of  the  existence  or  the  lack  of  reverent  love 
and  loyalty  between  parents,  not  as  "  acquired  characters,"  in  the  controversial 
sense,  but  as  giving  full  play  to  the  highest  currents  of  our  mental  and  spiritual 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  295 

life.  We  shall  have  to  consider  the  possibilities  of  raising  the  whole  moral  stand- 
ard of  the  race,  so  that  the  eugenic  loyalty,  shown  in  instinctive  form  on  the  sub- 
human plane,  should  be  reproduced  in  humanity,  consciously,  purposively,  and 
progressively.  Finally  we  shall  have  to  reconsider  the  two  cults  of  self  and 
happiness,  which  we  are  so  prone  to  make  ultimate.  The  truly  eugenic  conscience 
will  look  upon  self  as  a  means  and  an  instrument  of  consecrated  service ;  and 
happiness,  not  as  an  end  or  an  ideal  to  strive  for,  since  such  striving  ignobly 
defeats  its  own  object,  but  —  as  sorrow  or  disappointment  may  also  become  —  a 
means  or  a  result  of  purifying  and  energizing  the  human  activities  to  an  extent 
as  yet  difficult  to  speak  of. 

Mr.  Galton's  reply  :  This  Society  has  cause  to  congratulate  itself  on  the 
zeal  and  energy  which  have  brought  together  such  a  body  of  opinion  as  is  here 
represented.  It  is  not  only  what  we  have  heard  tonight.  We  have  had  contribu- 
tions from  four  eminent  specialists :  Dr.  Haddon,  Dr.  Mott,  Mr.  Crawley,  and  Dr. 
Westermarck ;  men  who  have,  all  of  them,  written  books  which  are  well  known. 
But  this  is  not  all.  I  have  in  my  hands  fifteen  different  written  communications, 
all  of  which  have  been  sent  in  by  well-known  persons.  It  was  suggested  that,  as 
these  could  not  be  read,  I  might  make  a  few  remarks  on  the  points  in  them  that 
seemed  more  especially  to  call  for  observation.  First  of  all,  it  gives  me  satisfaction 
to  find  that  no  one  impugns  the  conclusion  which  my  memoir  was  written  to 
justify,  that  history  tells  how  restrictions  in  marriage,  even  of  an  excessive  kind, 
have  been  contentedly  accepted  very  widely,  under  the  guidance  of  what  I  called 
"  immaterial  motives."     This  is  all  I  had  in  view  when  writing  it. 

Unfortunately,  eugenics  is  a  wide  study,  with  an  uncounted  number  of  side 
issues  into  which  those  who  discuss  it  informally  are  tempted  to  stray.  If,  how- 
ever, sure  advance  is  to  be  made,  these  issues  must  be  thoroughly  explored,  one  by 
one,  and  as  little  desultory  discussion  as  possible  should  be  indulged  in.  To 
change  the  simile,  we  have  to  deal  with  a  formidable  chain  of  strongholds,  which 
must  be  severally  attacked  in  force,  reduced,  and  disposed  of,  before  we  can 
proceed  freely. 

Now,  I  am  bound  to  say  that  the  greater  part  of  these  comments  deals  with 
side  issues,  not  relevant  to  the  immediate  purpose  of  the  memoir.  It  would  be 
discourteous  to  their  authors  to  pass  them  over  in  total  silence,  though  I  am 
unable  to  discuss  them  properly,  each  in  a  short  paragraph. 

The  first  of  these  comments  is  that  we  might  make  great  mistakes  as  to  what 
is,  and  what  is  not,  eugenics  ;  therefore,  that  it  is  far  too  early  to  devise  practical 
regulations.  I  cannot  consider  this  to  be  an  objection,  for  it  is  precisely  what  I 
have  ail  along  maintained.  A  partial  though  long  list  of  subjects  that  need 
serious  inquiry  is  given  in  my  second  memoir. 

At  is  objected  by  many  that  there  cannot  be  unanimity  on  the  "  points  "  that  it 
is  most  desirable  to  breed  for.  I  fully  discussed  this  objection  in  my  memoir  read 
here  last  spring,  showing  that  there  were  some  qualities,  such  as  health  and  vigor, 
that  all  thought  desirable,  and  the  opposite  undesirable,  and  that  this  sufficed  to 
give  a  first  direction  to  our  aims."  It  is  a  safe  starting-point,  though  a  great  deal 
more  has  to  be  inquired  into  as  we  proceed  on  our  way. 

It  is  also  objected  that  if  the  inferior  moiety  of  a  race  are  left  to  intermarry, 
their  produce  will  be  increasingly  inferior.  This  is  certainly  an  error.  The  law 
of  "  regresson  toward  mediocrity  "  insures  that  their  offspring,  as  a  whole,  will  be 
superior  to  themselves,  and  if,  as  I  sincerely  hope,  a  freer  action  will  be  hereafter 
allowed  to  selective  agencies  than  hitherto,  the  portion  of  the  offspring  so  selected 
would  be  better  still.  The  influences  that  now  withstand  the  free  action  of 
selective  agencies  include  indiscriminate  charity. 

I  wish  that  competent  persons  would  severally  take  up  one  or  other  of  the 
many  topics  mentioned  in  my  second  memoir,  or  others  of  a  similar  kind,  and 
work  it  thoroughly  out,  as  they  would  any  ordinary  scientific  problem  ;  in  this 
way  solid  progress  would  be  made.  I  must  be  allowed  to  re-emphasize  my  opinion 
that  an  immense  amount  of  investigation  has  to  be  accomplished  before  a  definite 
system  of  eugenics  can  be  safely  framed. 

"American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  X,  p.  — . 


I 


296 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


From  Mr.  F.  Carrel  :  I  should  like  to  ask  Mr.  Galton  whether  the  general 
practice  of  eclectic  mating  might  not  tend  to  the  production  of  a  very  inferior 
residual  type,  always  condemned  to  mate  together  until  eliminated  from  an 
existence  in  which  they  would  be  too  unfitted  to  participate  ;  and,  if  so,  whether 
such  a  system  can  be  adopted  without  inflicting  suffering  upon  the  more  or  less 
slowly  disappearing  residuum. 

Professor  Yves  Delage/^  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Galton,  wrote :  I  am  delighted 
with  the  noble  and  very  interesting  enterprise  which  you  are  undertaking.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  if  in  all  countries  the  men  who  are  at  the  head  of  the  intellectual 
movement  would  give  it  their  support,  it  would  in  the  end  triumph  over  the 
obstacles  which  are  caused  by  indifference,  routine,  and  the  sarcasms  of  those 
v/ho  see  in  any  new  idea  only  the  occasion  for  exercising  a  satirical  spirit  in  which 
they  cloak  their  ignorance  and  hardness  of  heart 

We  should  translate  "  eugenics  "  into  French  by  eugonie  or  cugenese.  Could 
you  not,  while  there  is  still  time,  modify  the  English  term  into  "  eugonics  "  or 
"  eugenesis,"  in  order  that  it  might  be  the  same  in  both  languages  ? 

I  see  with  pleasure  that  you  have  had  the  tact  to  attack  the  question  on  the 
side  by  which  it  can  be  determined.  Many  years  ago  I  had  myself  examined  the 
subject  that  you  prosecute  at  this  moment,  but  I  had  thought  only  of  compulsory, 

or  rather  prohibitive,  means  of  attaining  the  object You  are  entirely  right 

in  laying  aside,  at  least  at  the  outset,  all  compulsory  or  prohibitive  means,  and  in 
seeking  only  to  initiate  a  movement  of  opinion  in  favor  of  eugenics,  and  in  trying 
to  modify  the  mental  attitude  toward  marriage  so  that  young  people,  and 
especially  parents,  will  think  less  of  fortune  and  social  conditions,  and  more  of 
physical  perfection,  moral  well-being,  and  intellectual  vigor.  Social  opinion  should 
be  modified  so  that  the  opprobrium  of  mesalliance  falls,  not  on  the  union  of  the 
noble  with  the  plebeian,  or  of  the  rich  with  the  poor,  but  on  the  mating  of 
physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  qualities,  with  the  defects  of  these. 
,  As  you  have  so  well  put  it,  public  opinion  and  social  convention  have  a  con- 
siderable prohibitive  force.  You  will  have  rendered  an  incalculable  service  if  you 
direct  these  toward  eugenics. 

The  thing  is  difficult,  and  will  need  sustained  effort.  To  impress  the  public, 
not  only  men  of  science  must  be  asked  to  -help,  but  those  of  renown  in  literature 
in  all  countries. 

"  Professor  of  biology  in  the  University  of  Paris. 


THE  AMERICAN 

JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


voLiTMKXi  NOVEMBER,   1905  numbers 


A  LABORATORY  EXPERIMENT  IN  JOURNALISM 


PROFESSOR  GEORGE  E.  VINCENT 
The  University  of  Chicago 


The  enthusiasm  of  the  universities  during  the  past  fifteen  or 
twenty  years  for  "  getting  into  closer  relations  with  the  national 
life"  —  as  the  phrase  runs  —  has  led  them  to  establish  technical 
schools  and  courses  of  many  kinds.  Of  these  several  —  notably 
curricula  in  engineering  and  agriculture  —  have  been  undoubtedly 
successful.  Even  schools  of  finance,  giving  instruction  in  bank- 
ing, insurance,  railway  administration,  etc.,  have  met  with  some 
favor  from  the  business  world.  But  academic  courses  in  journal- 
ism have  so  far  failed  either  to  define  themselves  clearly  within 
the  university  or  to  commend  themselves  to  a  cynical  newspaper- 
dom  without.  The  proposal  of  Mr.  Joseph  Pulitzer  to  endow  a 
school  of  journalism  at  Columbia  University  revived  for  a  time 
the  flagging  interest  in  the  experiment,  but  the  character  of  the 
studies  outlined,  and  even  the  vigorous  defense  of  the  plan  by  its 
author,^  seemed  not  to  carry  conviction  to  the  doubters. 

The  reasons  for  this  skepticism  are  not  far  to  seek.  While 
as  a  rule  editors  admit  that,  other  things  being  equal,  a  college 
training  is  of  distinct  value  to  a  newspaper  worker,  they  say 
that  the  university  cannot  create  conditions  in  which  the  future 
reporter  or  leader-writer  must  learn  the  technique  of  his  profes- 

'"  The  College  of  Journalism,"  North  American  Review,  May,  1904. 

297 


298  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

sion.  They  insist  that  the  only  way  to  become  a  newspaper 
writer  is  to  "go  through  the  mill."  According  to  these  critics, 
journalism  has  no  clearly  defined,  conventionalized  technique 
analogous  to  that  of  law  or  medicine.  The  general  principles  of 
newspaper  work  are  mere  empty  platitudes  apart  from  the  con- 
crete, ever-changing  problems  of  the  daily  press.  All  that  the 
university  can  hoi>e  to  do  for  the  newspaper  man  is  to  give  him  a 
general  training  in  languages,  literature,  history,  economics,  and 
the  other  social  sciences,  as  well  as  some  knowledge  of  the  world 
of  nature.  The  rest  must  be  left  to  the  office,  where  by  a  painful 
process  he  learns  to  utilize  his  resources  and  to  transform  his 
literary  style  to  meet  the  peculiar  needs  of  the  modern  paper. 

There  is  much  plausibility  as  well  as  a  great  deal  of  sound 
sense  in  this  position  of  experienced  newspaper  men.  It  is  always 
a  thankless,  and  even  a  presumptions,  thing  for  an  academic 
person  to  question  the  dicta  of  hard-headed,  practical  men  as  to 
the  fields  in  which  they  are  experts,  but  the  writer  believes  that 
something  is  to  be  said  —  and  more  to  be  done — for  another 
kind  of  university  training  in  journalism.  He  proposes  therefore 
to  describe  an  academic  course  which  recently  reached  its  cul- 
mination with  the  publication  of  one  number  of  a  modem  city 
daily,  written  and  edited  by  a  class  of  university  students  organ- 
ized as  an  editorial  staff. 

During  the  last  three  years  the  writer  has  conducted  at  the 
University  of  Chicago  a  course  entitled  "The  History  and 
Organization  of  the  American  Press."  This  class  meets  four 
hours  a  week  for  three  months.  The  work  falls  into  two  parts : 
(i)  historical  or  descriptive,  and  (2)  practical  or  technical.  The 
first  division  includes  the  development  of  the  American  press, 
through  the  colonial  and  revolutionary  period,  into  the  partisan 
press  of  the  early  nineteenth  century;  thence  into  the  period  of 
"enterprise,"  the  telegraph  press,  and  the  Civil  War  period,  to 
the  contemporary  press.  The  great  papers  and  the  famous  editors 
of  the  era  of  personal  journalism  are  treated  in  some  detail.  The 
story  of  the  rise  of  press  associations  and  the  history  of  the  Asso- 
ciated Press  also  receive  attention.  Copies  of  old  newspapers, 
facsimiles,  etc.,  are  used  to  make  the  historical  descriptions  more 


A  LABORATORY  EXPERIMENT  IN  lOURNALISM  299 

vivid,  and  to  give  some  idea  of  make-up,  typography,  and  illus- 
trations. Next  follows  a  brief  outline  of  the  development  of  the 
printing  and  illustrating  processes.  The  students  become  familiar 
with  the  different  fonts  or  "  points  "  of  type,  and  are  given  prac- 
tice in  correcting  unrevised  galley  proofs  supplied  by  the  office  of 
the  college  daily.  The  evolution  of  the  printing-press  from  the 
Washington  press  to  the  contemporary  web  perfecting  machine 
is  suggested,  and  the  nature  and  significance  of  stereotyping  are 
pointed  out.  The  various  kinds  of  illustrations  from  early  wood- 
cuts to  "  tooled  "  half-tones  are  described,  and  examples  of  each 
are  shown.  Lectures  and  assigned  reading  on  these  topics  are 
supplemented  by  visits  to  the  plants  of  the  leading  Chicago  dailies. 
Then  comes  an  analysis  of  the  organization,  mechanical,  business, 
and  editorial,  of  a  modern  paper.  The  general  functions  of  the 
departmehts  are  indicated,  and  the  duties  of  each  worker — espe- 
cially on  the  editorial  staff  —  are  outlined. 

All  this  should  make  one  more  intelligent  concerning  news- 
paper work.  Every  journalist  of  course  must  know  something 
of  the  history  of  his  profession,  and  he  should  conceive  in  a  large 
way  all  aspects  of  his  chosen  field.  But  it  is  perfectly  true  that 
such  knowledge  may  not  tell  immediately  upon  his  efficiency  in 
doing  his  daily  work.  There  must  be  more  than  information 
about  the  profession;  there  must  be  practice  in  doing  the  kind 
of  things  which  it  demands  of  its  members.  How  far  this  prac- 
tice is  attempted,  by  what  methods  and  with  what  results,  are  after 
all  the  vital  questions.  Throughout  the  course,  in  addition  to  the 
lectures  and  reading,  students  are  given  daily  exercises  designed 
to  test  them  on  many  sides.  One  day  editorials  are  handed  in  on 
a  topic  assigned  in  advance.  Often  three  different  editorials  will 
be  required  on  the  same  subject,  but  treated  in  harmony  with  the 
editorial  policies  of  three  different  papers.  Again  each  member 
of  the  class  will  be  given,  at  the  opening  of  the  hour,  an  unheaded 
"story"  clipped  from  some  prominent  daily.  Three  or  five 
minutes  will  be  allowed  for  the  writing  of  a  suitable  heading. 
Sometimes  the  size  and  character  of  the  "  head "  will  be  indi- 
cated ;  sometimes  the  student  will  be  left  to  use  his  own  judgment. 
At  another  period  the  chief  facts  of  a  current  "  story "  in  color- 


300  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

less,  chronological  form  will  be  put  upon  the  blackboard,  and  a 
brief  time  allowed  for  the  turning  of  these  into  copy  for  a  desig- 
nated kind  of  daily.  Still  another  devise  consists  in  sending  stu- 
dents on  assignments  to  cover  stated  events,  copy  which  has  been 
finished  within  a  given  time  limit  being  turned  in  next  day.  Often 
members  of  the  class  are  permitted  to  accompany  reporters  of  the 
city  dailies  and  of  the  local  press  association  on  their  rounds. 

The  material  secured  in  these  different  ways  becomes  the 
subject-matter  for  "copy-reading"  —  i.  e.,  revision,  rewriting, 
head-writing,  etc.  —  and  of  active  criticism  and  discussion  in 
class.  Since  each  student  is  a  subscriber  for  the  quarter  for  one 
of  the  leading  dailies  of  the  country;  constantly  reports  upon  its 
contents  and  methods,  and  hands  in  almost  every  day  typical 
matter  from  its  columns,  a  broad  basis  of  observation  is  afforded. 
Comparisons  and  general  conclusions  inevitably  follow.  A 
generalization,  such  as  the  rule  that  a  heading  must  always  con- 
tain a  verb,  or  at  least  an  idea  of  action,  may  be  tested  in  a  most 
instructive  fashion  when  the  usage  of  twenty-five  or  thirty 
prominent  papers  is  immediately  available.  Out  of  these  discus- 
sions come  principles  and  theories  to  be  constantly  tested  and 
revised.  "What  is  news?"  and  the  "structure  of  a  news  story" 
are  no  longer  abstract  theories  when  they  thus  emerge  from  a 
mass  of  concrete  material.  Under  these  conditions  the  work  of 
the  class  gradually  improves  in  sureness  of  touch  and  simplicity 
and  directness  of  style.  The  more  obvious  blunders  are  avoided. 
Each  student  prides  himself  on  his  ability  to  put  the  whole  story 
in  the  opening  sentence  or  paragraph.  Superfluous  words  and 
phrases,  hackneyed  expressions,  fine  writing,  tend  to  disappear. 
The  individuality  of  the  men  begins  to  show  itself.  The  imita- 
tive produce  commonplace,  conventional  copy,  but  now  and  then 
a  clever,  sprightly  story  in  a  different  vein  will  be  turned  in  and 
come  up  for  discussion  in  the  class.  Someone  declares  that  the 
story  is  too  "fresh"  or  undignified,  and  that  any  city  editor 
would  "  turn  it  down."  The  writer  of  the  copy  stoutly  contends 
that  it  is  quite  the  sort  of  thing  one  finds  in  the  Sun,  etc.  Thus 
as  the  discussions  go  on,  standards  and  ideals  get  themselves 
more  clearly  defined. 


A  LABORATORY  EXPERIMENT  IN  JOURNALISM  301 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  quarter,  when  individual  tastes  and 
abilities  have  been  partially  disclosed,  the  class  is  organized  as  an 
editorial  staff.  This  gives  occasion  for  useful  discussion  as  to  the 
respective  duties  of  managing  editor,  news  editor,  city  editor, 
copy-reader,  et  al.,  and  also  provides  a  means  for  handling  more 
systematically  the  daily  grist  of  copy.  But  a  staff  suggests  a 
paper,  and  something  definite  and  tangible  to  be  done  at  a  given 
time  in  an  efficient  way.  The  mere  turning  out  of  haphazard, 
unrelated  copy  palls  after  a  time  upon  active  young  persons.  So 
a  year  ago  last  June  it  was  proposed  that  the  last  exercise  of  the 
course  should  be  the  preparation  of  complete  copy  for  one  issue 
of  a  daily  paper.  Everything  was  to  be  done  up  to  the  point  of 
sending  the  matter  to  the  composing-room.  No  line  was  to  be 
written  before  nine  in  the  morning  nor  after  midnight  of  the  day 
on  which  the  trial  was  made.  The  class  entered  upon  the  under- 
taking with  enthusiasm.  The  rooms  of  the  University  College, 
in  the  heart  of  the  city,  were  put  at  the  service  of  the  staff.  By 
one  o'clock  these  quarters  were  transformed  into  editorial  offices. 
Amateur  reporters  were  rushing  off  on  assignments  in  company 
with  the  professionals  of  the  city  dailies.  The  editorial  writers 
had  already  been  at  work,  and  when  the  copy  began  to  come 
in,  the  copy-readers  set  about  their  task.  The  reports  of  the 
City  Press  Association  and  of  the  Associated  Press  —  gener- 
ously furnished  for  the  occasion  —  arriving  by  messenger  at 
frequent  intervals,  were  eagerly  seized  upon  by  the  city  and  tele- 
graph editors.  As  fast  as  the  completed  manuscript  came  from 
the  copy-readers  it  was  turned  over  to  the  make-up  man,  who  had 
spread  out  before  him  eight  forms  drawn  on  manila  paper. 
Following  the  suggestions  of  the  managing  editor  —  who  on  this 
paper  stayed  until  the  forms  closed  —  the  stories  were  estimated 
for  length,  space  was  marked  off  in  the  columns,  and  thus  the 
pages  were  filled  up.  About  midnight  the  excitement  reached  its 
height  as  the  last  copy  was  turned  in  and  the  brown  paper  forms 
were  "locked  up."  As  a  bit  of  make-believe,  with  a  certain 
amount  of  incidental  profit,  the  attempt  was  a  success.  But  it  left 
much  to  be  desired.  The  results  were  too  vague  —  a  big  roll  of 
manuscript  and  a  few  sheets  of  wrapping-paper.    There  was  no 


302  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

way  of  estimating  definitely  the  work  of  the  responsible  editors, 
no  certain  tests  of  the  copy-readers'  skill  —  in  short,  little  or 
nothing  to  show  for  a  good  deal  of  hard  work.  "  If  only  it  could 
have  been'  printed ! "  was  the  regretful  sigh.  To  be  sure,  one 
valuable  result  grew  out  of  the  experiment.  The  city  editor  of 
one  of  the  leading  Chicago  dailies  volunteered  to  go  over  the 
copy,  and  then  to  criticise  it  before  the  class.  His  acute,  incisive, 
luminous  comments  were  of  the  greatest  service  to  the  students. 
He  said  the  copy  was  not  so  much  crude  as  commonplace,  imi- 
tative, conventional.  This  was  doubtless  the  result  of  studying 
the  newspapers  so  closely  and  of  attempting  to  acquire  a  profes- 
sional style.  The  results  were  largely  negative;  the  common 
blunders  and  infelicities  were  pretty  well  avoided,  but  that  rare 
originality  which  editors  so  eagerly  seek  in  "  cub  "  reporters  had 
not  been  much  stimulated.  After  all,  instruction  is  largely  a  con- 
ventionalizing process,  and  too  much  must  not  be  expected  in  the 
way  of  developing  genius  from  average  material.  Even  the  best 
newspaper  offices  are  not  conspicuously  successful  in  discovering 
and  developing  great  abilities  on  a  large  scale. 

The  class  of  this  year  —  in  the  spring  quarter  of  1905  — 
numbered  twenty-five,  and  included  three  student  reporters  for 
the  Chicago  papers,  several  men  who  had  worked  on  country 
weeklies,  and  one  employee  of  the  Associated  Press.  The  class 
as  a  whole  showed  intelligence;  much  good  copy  was  turned  in. 
The  editorials  written  by  two  or  three  graduate  students  in 
political  science  and  economics  were  unusually  pointed,  clear,  and 
vigorous.  When  the  plans  for  the  final  practice  were  proposed, 
the  question,  "Why  not  print  the  paper?"  again  came  up.  The 
matter  had  already  been  investigated  in  a  tentative  way,  but  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  class  was  so  evident,  and  its  ability  so  well 
proved,  that  the  time  seemed  auspicious  for  pushing  the  experi- 
ment farther.  The  plan  was  broached  to  the  manager  *.  of  one  of 
the  afternoon  papers,  who  instantly  and  with  cordiality  offered  to 
put  his  whole  plant  at  the  service  of  the  class  any  day  from  five  in 
the  afternoon  until  the  forms  were  locked  up.     Moreover,  he 

'  Mr.  John  Eastman,  of  the  Chicago  Evening  Journal,  whose  generosity  and 
courtesy  contributed  in  a  fundamental  way  to  the  success  of  the  experiment. 


A  LABORATORY  EXPERIMENT  IN  JOURNALISM  303 

promised  to  produce  the  edition  at  actual  cost.  This  was  an 
encouraging  beginning.  Next  the  news  services  must  be  secured. 
The  Associated  Press  and  the  City  Press  Association,  with  the 
hearty  consent  of  their  Chicago  members,^  agreed  to  supply 
copies  of  their  complete  reports,  with  the  understanding  that  the 
paper  should  not  be  published  before  noon.  The  city  editors  of 
the  morning  papers  were  equally  friendly,  promising  to  give 
access  to  their  assignment  books,  and  to  send  out  students  with 
their  own  reporters.  The  sum  needed  to  cover  the  cost  of  bring- 
ing out  the  paper  was  quickly  secured  from  friends  who  took 
advertising  space  to  the  amount  of  three  columns. 

These  preliminaries  settled,  the  class  .  set  about  the  further 
preparations  with  enthusiasm.  The  stafif  had  already  been  organ- 
ized with  the  editor-in-chief  of  the  college  daily  as  managing 
editor,  two  student  reporters  as  news  and  city  editors,  and  the 
Associated  Press  employee  as  telegraph  editor.  All  the  usual 
departments  —  finance,  society,  sport,  art,  literature  and  the 
drama,  exchange,  etc.  —  had  been  assigned  to  responsible  editors ; 
a  cartoonist  had  been  selected,  copy-readers  appointed,  and  now 
the  original  staff  of  reporters  was  enlarged  by  volunteers  among 
friends  of  the  class,  and  from  one  of  the  university  courses  in 
English  composition.  The  complete  staff  numbered  nearly  forty, 
each  having  clearly  defined  duties,  and  responsible  to  a  designated 
superior. 

The  following  important  points  were  decided  upon  after  full 
discussion  in  the  class.  The  name  the  Daily  Times  was  adopted. 
The  policy  and  tone  of  the  paper  were  to  be  Republican  in  national 
affairs,  with  a  somewhat  independent  attitude  toward  state  and 
municipal  politics ;  to  be  dignified  in  the  treatment  and  display  of 
news,  avoiding  sensational  methods  and  smartness;  to  aim  at 
accuracy,  abjuring  "  fakes  "  and  "  pipe  stories."  Only  by  fixing 
a  policy  in  this  way  would  it  be  possible  to  make  a  consistent  and 
homogeneous  paper.    While  the  usage  of  the  office  in  which  the 

'  Acknowledgment  is  due  to  Mr.  A.  C.  Thomas  and  Colonel  C.  S.  Diehl, 
of  the  Associated  Press ;  to  Mr.  H.  L.  Saylor,  of  the  City  Press ;  and  to  the 
following  members  of  these  associations :  Mr.  R.  W^  Patterson,  of  the  Chicago 
Tribune;  Mr.  F.  B.  Noyes,  of  the  Record-Herald ;  Mr.  G.  W.  Hinman,  of  the 
Inter-Ocean ;   and  Mr.  H.  W.  Seymour,  of  the  Chronicle. 


304  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

edition  was  to  be  brought  out  would  be  followed  so  far  as 
spellings,  abbreviations,  etc.,  were  concerned,  a  special  style-sheet 
for  headings  was  prepared  and  printed.  By  this  the  copy-readers 
were  guided  in  their  preliminary  practice.  They  quickly  became 
skilful  in  meeting  the  requirements  of  substance,  space,  and 
symmetry. 

As  the  seriousness  of  the  task  which  had  been  undertaken 
became  more  and  more  apparent,  the  class  readily  acquiesced  in  a 
plan  for  a  preliminary  practice  in  the  course  of  which  all  copy  for 
an  edition  should  be  prepared  just  as  though  it  were  to  be  printed. 
A  night  was  selected  and  the  work  done.  The  trial  was  in  many 
ways  discouraging.  The  city  and  telegraph  desks  were  nearly 
swamped  by  the  Association  reports ;  many  of  the  reporters  went 
sadly  astray  and  failed  to  get  a  grip  on  their  stories ;  the  make-up 
was  vague  and  the  proportions  of  news  ill-balanced.  The  effect, 
however,  was  the  traditional  stimulus  of  a  poor  rehearsal.  The 
young  newspaper  men  saw  more  clearly  the  problems  to  be  met, 
and  pursued  all  the  more  vigorously  their  training  for  the  final 
trial,  which  had  been  set  for  June  6,  the  paper  bearing  date  of 
June  7. 

On  the  evening  of  June  5  an  editorial  conference  decided  upon 
the  cartoon  *  and  upon  the  leading  editorials.  It  was  the  aim  to 
keep  these  close  to  the  events  of  the  moment,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  make  them  well-considered,  informing,  and  incisive.  The 
editorials  decided  upon  at  the  evening  conference  were:  "Eng- 
lish Diplomacy,"  the  visit  of  the  Spanish  king  to  the  court  of  St. 
James  being  made  the  starting-point  for  a  review  of  England's 
diplomacy  by  which  in  ten  years  her  own  position  of  isolation  has 
been  in  a  large  measure  transferred  to  Germany ;  "  Evolution  of 

*  This  was  suggested  by  the  visit  of  the  Spanish  king  to  Paris,  where  he 
narrowly  escaped  a  bomb,  and  to  London,  where  at  the  moment  he  was  said  to 
be  pursued  by  heiresses.  The  picture  was  to  represent  his  royal  highness  flying 
incontinently  from  an  anarchist  with  a  bomb  poised  in  the  manner  of  a  shot- 
putter,  and  from  a  young  woman  in  bridal  dress  with  a  money  bag  in  her  out- 
stretched hand.  The  descriptive  line  was  to  read,  "  After  you,  My  Dear  Alfonso." 
It  is,  to  be  sure,  a  question  whether  this  was  quite  in  harmony  with  the  policy  of 
the  paper,  but  such  was  the  decision.  The  drawing,  which  was  not  begun  until 
noon  next  day,  was  admirably^  executed.  It  was  turned  over  to  the  engraver  at 
five. 


A  LABORATORY  EXPERIMENT  IN  JOURNALISM  305 

Roosevelt's  Cabinet,"  in  which  the  rumored  appointment  of 
Bonaparte  was  the  occasion  for  describing  the  gradual  change  of 
the  cabinet  from  a  McKinley  legacy  to  a  personally  sympathetic 
council  of  the  President;  "Democracy  in  Unionism,"  a  comment 
upon  the  autocratic  methods  of  labor  leaders,  and  the  apathy  of 
the  rank  and  file,  as  illustrated  in  the  existing  teamsters'  strike; 
■"Two  Kinds  of  Reformers,"  in  which  the  attitudes  of  Mayor 
Dunne  and  of  James  Dalrymple,  the  Glasgow  traction  expert, 
toward  municipal  ownership  were  contrasted.  These  leading 
editorials  having  been  tentatively  decided  upon  both  as  to  subject- 
matter  and  length,  a  column  or  more  space  remained  available  for 
topics  to  be  suggested  by  the  news  of  the  next  day.  It  was  agreed 
that  no  copy  should  be  actually  written  before  9  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  June  6.  With  the  exception  of  the  book  reviews  and 
one  or  two  short  special  articles,  no  manuscript  was  prepared 
before  the  designated  hour. 

The  editorial  offices  were  opened  June  6  at  noon  in  the  rooms 
of  the  University  College.  The  managing  editor  had  prepared  a 
preliminary  schedule,  and  had  assigned  to  the  city,  news,  and 
department  editors  the  approximate  space  available  for  each. 
This  distribution  was  understood  to  be  subject  to  change  with  the 
news  developments  of  the  afternoon  and  evening.  The  paper  was 
to  be  a  four-page,  seven-column  sheet,  with  solid  minion  as  a  body 
type.  The  editorials  were  to  be  set  in  leaded  brevier.  This 
make-up  called  for  almost  exactly  twenty-five  columns  of  matter, 
practically  the  amount  carried  by  an  eight-page  paper  which  has 
good  advertising  patronage.  In  spite  of  all  these  careful  prepara- 
tions, there  remained  the  inevitable  uncertainty  as  to  the  news 
which  would  have  to  be  handled.  "  Suppose  the  Czar  were  to  be 
assassinated?"  "How  could  we  handle  such  a  thing  as  that?" 
Avas  the  sort  of  question  raised  now  and  then  by  the  anxious 
editors.  The  chief  stock  stories  of  the  day  were:  the  Russo- 
Japanese  War,  the  rumors  of  peace,  the  Zemstvo's  appeal,  the 
interned  ships  at  Manila,  the  French  cabinet  crisis,  the  Prussian 
wedding,  the  Spanish  king  in  London,  the  Philadelphia  revolt, 
the  Equitable  scandal,  the  Chicago  traction  situation,  and  the 
strike  of  the  local  teamsters.     Some  of  these  were  active,  and 


3o6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

"follow  stories"  and  bulletins  mig^ht  be  expected;  others  would 
be  covered  by  the  afternoon  papers,  and  would  therefore  lose 
much  of  their  news  value.  Here  were  problems  in  plenty.  Some 
early  copy  must  go  to  the  compositors  by  4  —  a  full  quota  of  men 
could  not  be  provided  for  the  evening — and  after  seven  the 
stream  of  stories  must  flow  steadily  and  copiously.  All  uncertain 
matters  must  be  postponed  until  the  latest  possible  moment,  every- 
thing sure  to  be  printed  must  go  up  promptly,  while  "over- 
setting"—  i.  e.,  the  composition  of  more  matter  than  there  was 
space  for  —  must  be  minimized.  The  editorials  already  men- 
tioned, supplemented  by  three  which  grew  out  of  the  news  of  the 
morning  —  viz.,  "Finance  and  Publicity,"  "Admiral  Enquist 
and  His  Cruises,"  and  "A  New  Theatrical  Conscience"  —  were 
the  first  of  the  copy  to  be  set.  These,  together  with  short,  original 
paragraphs,  a  half-column  of  clippings,  literary  reviews,  dramatic 
criticisms,  society  notes,  and  an  exclusive  special  article,  an  inter- 
view with  the  Japanese  consul  on  Togo's  telegram  to  the  Mikado, 
completed  the  editorial  page,  which  was  locked  up  about  8,  at 
which  time  the  staff  had  been  installed  for  two  hours  in  the 
editorial  rooms  of  its  newspaper  host. 

From  this  time  on  the  situation  grew  more  complex  and  excit- 
ing. The  press  reports  were  coming  in  rapidly,  and  being 
handled  by  the  telegraph  editor  and  his  copy-readers.  The  tele- 
grams were  being  checked  off,  sorted,  selected,  condensed,  pro- 
vided with  headings.  All  the  war  dispatches  and  other  rapidly 
changing  stories  were  put  to  one  side  for  late  treatment,  while  the 
shorter,  miscellaneous  telegrams  were  sifted  and  rewritten  for  a 
column  of  "  Telegraphic  Brevities,"  a  devise  for  handling  a  large 
number  of  items  in  a  condensed  form.  At  the  same  time  the  city 
desk  was  a  center  of  activity.  Stories  of  the  afternoon  —  special 
men  had  been  devoting  the  whole  day  to  traction  and  strike 
developments  —  were  being  sifted  and  copy-read ;  reporters  were 
arriving,  summarizing  their  results,  receiving  space  instructions 
from  the  city  editor,  and  sitting  down  to  write  out  their  copy, 
which  was  quickly  merged  in  the  stream  now  flowing  steadily 
through  the  copy-readers'  hands  to  the  composing-room.  The 
managing  editor  had  before  him  the  news  schedules  of  the  differ- 


A  LABORATORY  EXPERIMENT  IN  JOURNALISM  307 

ent  editors  and  the  proofs  of  the  matter  already  in  galley.  He 
modified  his  "  make-up"  from  time  to  time  and  hurried  frequently 
to  the  composing-room,  where  the  three  remaining  pages  were 
beginning  to  fill.  The  base  for  the  cartoon  was  waiting  in  the 
upper  center  of  the  first  page  for  the  zinc  etching  still  in  the 
engraver's  hands;  the  leading  first-page  stories  were  being 
assembled  under  their  headings,  while  vacant  spaces  showed 
where  the  final  bulletins  and  latest  "  leads "  were  to  find  place. 
On  the  third  page  "  The  City  in  Brief "  and  "  Telegraphic 
Brevities"  were  lengthening  rapidly,  while  more  important  tele- 
grams, foreign  and  domestic,  together  with  local  stories  were 
being  assembled.  The  fourth  page  early  began  to  fill  with  finan- 
cial reports  and  sporting  news.  To  one  side  stood  galleys  of 
matter  as  yet  unassigned,  awaiting  the  exigencies  of  the  final 
make-up,  which  was  scheduled  for  i  a.  m.  The  paper  was  to  be  a 
first  or  mail  edition,  not  the  city  edition  which  contains  later 
telegrams  and  local  reports. 

At  midnight  the  climax  approached.  The  telegraph  editor 
was  working  at  top  speed.  He  turned  a  mass  of  items  concerning 
federal  affairs  into  a  special  correspondent's  Washington  letter — 
what  are  principles  and  policy  in  a  crisis  such  as  this?  —  and 
dictated  to  a  stenographer,  provided  for  an  emergency,  a  clear 
condensation  under  a  St.  Petersburg  dateline  of  telegrams  from 
Moscow  and  other  Russian  cities,  at  the  same  time  skilfully  weav- 
ing in  the  chief  facts  as  to  the  Zemstvos  situation,  and  other 
related  items.  It  was  a  clever  and  effective  piece  of  work.  With 
the  turning  in  of  this  copy  the  labors  of  the  staff  were  practically 
over.  The  composing-room  now  became  the  center  of  interest. 
Thirty  amateur  journalists  watched  with  keen  parental  solicitude 
the  work  of  a  deft  and  marvelously  long-suffering  foreman  who, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  managing  editor,  in  consultation  with 
three  or  four  of  his  chief  aids,  "  lifted  "  this  story  and  substituted 
that  in  order  to  secure  symmetry  and  balance  of  heads,  to  recog- 
nize news  values,  and  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  space.  The  fourth 
page  was  locked  up,  the  third  was  on  the  point  of  being  closed, 
when  in  rushed  the  telegraph  editor  with  a  fresh  war  bulletin. 
It  must  go  at  the  head  of  the  first  page  war  story.     It  was  ten 


3o8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

minutes  before  i  o'clock.  In  a  few  moments  the  "  stickful "  was 
set,  read,  and  in  the  foreman's  hand.  A  short  telegram  had  been 
lifted  from  the  first  page  and  had  displaced  a  less  important  item 
on  page  3.  The  space  gained  had  been  shifted  to  the  top  of  the 
war  column,  into  which  the  late  bulletin  was  dropped.  At  last 
the  word  was  given;  the  cartoon  etching  had  come  down  and 
been  tacked  on  its  base;  the  forms  were  closed,  the  set  screws 
driven  home,  and  the  task  accomplished  at  five  minutes  after  the 
appointed  hour.  On  the  galleys  lay  three  and  one-half  columns 
of  "  overset."  Page-proofs  were  made,  and  the  weary  but  elated 
editors  went  home  to  await  eagerly  the  printed  edition,  which 
was  distributed  at  noon  next  day. 

So  much  of  detailed  description  seems  necessary  to  give  a 
fairly  vivid  idea  of  the  working  conditions  under  which  this 
practice  paper  was  sent  to  press.  To  the  members  of  the  class 
were  thus  brought  home  certain  typical  problems  of  the  daily 
paper:  the  collection  of  news,  the  preparation  of  it,  the  estima- 
tion of  its  value  in  both  space  and  position,  the  proportions  of 
different  kinds  of  matter,  the  exigencies  of  final  make-up.  Under 
the  strain  of  the  night's  work  the  students  were  tested  in  a  search- 
ing fashion.  Resourcefulness,  good  judgment,  coolness,  were 
demanded.  While  for  the  most  part  the  different  men  did  about 
what  was  expected  of  them,  several  distinctly  failed  to  meet  the 
emergency  effectively,  while  others  —  one  fellow  in  particular 
who  during  the  quarter  had  seemed  aimless,  if  not  indifferent  — 
surprised  all  by  their  alertness,  adaptability,  and  industry.  There 
could  be  no  better  illustration  of  the  different  ways  in  which  stu- 
dents react  to  academic  exercises  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  calls  for 
action,  accomplishment,  on  the  other. 

The  Daily  Times  was  on  the  whole  a  success.  It  sought  in  no 
sense  to  be  a  model  paper,  or  to  introduce  innovations.  It  aimed 
simply  to  conform  to  the  best  standards  of  alert,  dignified,  self- 
respecting  journalism.  The  editorial  page  was  by  common  con- 
sent the  best  of  the  four,  and  might  challenge  comparison  with 
any  save  the  leading  metropolitan  papers.  The  first  page  looked 
well,  and  corresponded  closely  with  the  Chicago  papers  so  far  as 
the  choice  of  news  went.    The  only  conspicuous  mistake  of  judg- 


A  LABORATORY  EXPERIMENT  IN  JOURNALISM  309 

merit  was  betrayed  in  giving  the  Prussian  wedding  "  follow 
story  "  a  place  on  the  front  page,  when  the  afternoon  papers  had 
covered  the  event  rather  fully.  The  one  bad  "  break  "  was  in  an 
equivocal  "hanger"  in  the  heading  of  this  same  news  item.  It 
read  "Oldest  Son  of  Emperor  William  and  Duchess  Cecilia 
Married  Yesterday."  In  general,  the  news  was  presented  in  a 
straightforward  fashion,  and  the  heads  were  especially  well  done, 
terse,  and  vivid,  without  frivolity  or  smartness.  No  important 
local  event  was  wholly  overlooked,  and  the  condensation  of  the 
Associated  Press  report  showed  good  judgment  and  a  fair  degree 
of  skill.  The  amateur  editors  were  naturally  gratified  by  the 
many  friendly  comments  of  practical  newspaper  men  who  frankly 
expressed  surprise  at  the  excellence  of  the  result. 

It  would  be  easy  to  overestimate  the  significance  of  this 
experiment.  It  must  be  remembered  that  it  was  made  under  the 
most  favorable  conditions :  a  class  of  more  than  average  ability, 
several  of  them  with  some  experience  in  journalism,  one  an 
employee  of  the  Associated  Press;  editorial  writers  of  maturity 
and  scholarly  training;  the  co-operation  of  four  city  editors ;** 
careful,  preliminary  practice;  expert,  professional  proofreaders; 
a  well-organized  mechanical  department;  and  —  this  was  of  much 
moment  —  a  quiet,  normal  news  day.  Nevertheless,  the  attempt 
and  the  training  which  preceded  it  did  show  that  it  is  possible  to 
give  under  university  auspices  a  practical  introduction  to  the 
technique  of  newspaper  work  as  distinguished  from  that  general 
culture  which  is  already  provided.  Whether  distinct  schools  of 
journalism  are  possible  or  desirable  is  a  question  which  may  be 
left  for  the  decision  of  time  and  experience.  It  seems,  however, 
quite  worth  while  to  offer  college  and  university  courses  which 
shall  deal  with  the  practical  problems  of  newspaper  work. 
Whether  the  practice-paper  idea  is  practicable  as  a  regular  device, 
or  whether  some  other  plan  would  serve  the  purpose  better,  it  at 

'  The  writer  has  found  newspaper  men  unfailingly  friendly  and  always  ready 
to  give  aid.  In  this  case  these  city  editors  sent  out  with  their  own  reporters 
the  amateurs  of  the  Daily  Times.  It  should  be  noted,  however,  that  no  newspaper 
men  even  visited  the  Journal  office  during  the  trial,  which  was  carried  through 
without  professional  advice  or  supervision. 


3IO  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

least  suggests  the  possibility  of  creating  an  approximation  to 
working  conditions.  At  present  the  following  seem  to  be  feasible 
first  steps  toward  journalism  courses  in  any  urban  university: 

1.  The  appointment  of  a  journalist,  who  combines  practical 
experience  with  academic  tastes,  to  a  permanent  faculty  position. 

2.  The  appointment  on  salary  of  leading  men  from  the  city 
press  to  lectureships  in  the  several  fields  of  journalism.  This 
would  be  strictly  analogous  to  the  relation  which  practicing 
doctors  and  lawyers  sustain  to  medical  and  law  schools. 

3.  The  establishment  of  a  museum,  such  as  the  writer  has 
begun  to  organize,  designed  to  illustrate  (a)  the  history  of  news- 
papers by  originals  and  facsimiles  of  old  paj)ers;  {b)  the 
mechanical  side  —  by  showing  all  the  stages  from  copy  to  the 
printed  paper;  (c)  the  editorial  side  by  scrapbooks  containing 
actual  copy  from  newspapers  in  the  transition  from  reporters' 
manuscript  to  final  proofs;  {d)  a  seminar  room  in  which  files  of 
prominent  typical  papers,  including  a  few  foreign  journals,  are 
kept  for  reading  and  study. 

4.  The  installation  of  a  small  plant,  with  a  linotype  machine 
—  or  access  to  such  a  printing-office  —  for  setting  up  the  daily 
exercises  of  the  class. 

5.  Frequent  visits  to  the  leading  newspaper  offices  for  obser- 
vation in  connection  with  class  lectures. 

6.  Assignment  work  for  students,  at  first  independently,  and 
then,  when  experience  warrants,  as  understudies  to  reporters  on 
the  staffs  of  the  city  dailies. 

7.  Courses  in  English  especially  adapted  to  the  cultivation 
of  a  good  newspai)er  style,  which  is  far  from  deserving  the 
opprobrium  which  too  many  literary  men  and  college  instructors 
heap  upon  it. 

8.  Courses  in  modern  history,  diplomacy,  political  science, 
economics,  and  sociology  may  easily  be  given  slight  modification 
which  will  make  them  of  more  value  to  men  preparing  for 
journalism. 

The  sum  of  the  whole  matter,  however,  is  to  bring  practical 
newspaper  men  into  the  lecture  and  seminar  room,  not  for  mere 
general  addresses  on  the  importance  of  the  press  to  civilization, 


A  LABORATORY  EXPERIMENT  IN  JOURNALISM  31 1 

but  for  careful;  discriminating  criticism  and  concrete  suggestion ; 
in  short,  for  clinical,  laboratory  work.  All  efforts  which  the  uni- 
versities may  make  in  the  direction  of  journalistic  training  of  a 
definite,  practical  sort  will  be  futile  until  they  succeed  in  securing 
the  regular,  compensated  services  of  men  recognized  as  leaders 
in  their  profession,  representing  its  best  achievements  and  its 
highest  ideals  and  aims. 


THE  NECESSARY  SEQUEL  OF  CHILD-LABOR  LAWS 


MISS  JOSEPHINE  C.  GOLDMARK 
National  Consumers'  League 


Recent  agitation  against  the  abuses  of  child-labor  has  been 
confined  to  the  needs  of  children  to  the  age  of  fourteen  or  at  most 
sixteen  years.  This  vital  issue  should  not  obscure  the  imperative 
need  of  relief  from  overwork  of  young  girls  above  that  age.  For 
obvious  reasons,  girls  between  sixteen  and  twenty-one  years  stand 
in  need  of  protective  legislation,  primarily  a  limitation  upon  their 
hours  of  labor.  That  women  as  women  should  have  certain  safe- 
guards secured  by  law,  that  women  need  special  legislation,  is  a 
proposition  adopted  and  acted  upon  by  all  enlightened  states. 
In  view  of  the  fact  that  practically  one-half  of  the  working- 
women  in  the  United  States  (49.3  per  cent,  in  1900)  are  girls  — 
young  women  under  the  age  of  twenty-five  years  —  such  special 
legislation  is  specially  needed. 

In  the  census  of  1900  the  section  on  "Occupations"  shows 
very  clearly  in  what  direction  the  employment  of  women  has  been 
tending  during  the  last  twenty  years.  Two  striking  facts  stand 
out  vividly :  ( i )  the  increase  in  the  percentage  of  working-women 
over  the  percentage  of  men  between  1880  and  1900;  (2)  the 
large  percentage  of  young  women  (sixteen  to  twenty  years)  in 
the  total  number  of  working-women,  as  compared  with  the  small 
percentage  of  young  men  of  the  same  ages  in  the  total  number  of 
working-men. 

In  1880  the  percentage  distribution  by  sex  of  all  persons 
engaged  in  gainful  occupations  was:  working-men,  84.8; 
working- women,  15.2.  By  1900  this  ratio  had  changed  as  fol- 
lows: working-men,  81.8;  working-women,  18.2  —  an  increase 
of  3  per  cent,  of  women  workers,  with  a  corresponding  decrease 
of  3  per  cent,  of  men  workers. 

In  every  geographic  division,  and  in  every  state  and  territory  except 
three,  females  formed  an  increased  proportion  from  1890  to  1900  of  the  total 

312 


THE  NECESSARY  SEQUEL  OF  CHILD-LABOR  LAWS      313 

number  of  persons  gainfully  employed,  and  in  the  three  states  excepted  — 
Georgia,  Florida,  and  Louisiana  —  the  proportion  remained  practically  sta- 
tionary. 

To  illustrate  the  increase  in  the  percentage  of  working-women 
over  working-men  in  particular  industries,  the  figures  given  for 
manufacture  and  trade  are  of  striking  interest:  In  1880  the  per- 
centage of  working-men  in  manufacture  was  83.8;  by  1900  this 
figure  had  sunk  to  81.5.  The  percentage  of  working- women  in 
manufacture,  on  the  contrary,  rose  from  16.7  in  1880  to  18.5  in 
1900. 

In  trade  and  transportation  —  a  division  of  industry  including 
the  employment  of  women  as  "stenographers,  typewriters,  tele- 
graph and  telephone  operators,  bookkeepers,  clerks,  and  sales- 
women "  —  the  percentage  of  women  rose  from  3.4  in  1880  to  the 
surprising  figure  of  10.5  in  1900;  while  the  percentage  of  men 
sank  from  96.6  to  89.5  in  the  same  twenty  years. 

Thus  the  rapid  increase  in  the  number  of  working-women, 
and  the  rate  at  which  they  are  gaining  upon  men,  comparatively, 
in  the  industries  that  call  for  the  labor  of  women,  warrant  a  care- 
ful study  of  the  results  of  such  employment,  and  of  the  status  of 
the  working-woman  before  the  law,  in  the  various  states,  as  a 
means  of  obtaining  more  adequate  protection. 

The  enormous  proportion  of  young  girls  among  "working- 
women  "  will  be  dealt  with  below. 

Legislation  for  working-men  has  been  most  advanced  in  the 
western  mining  states.  The  eight-hour  day  is  no  longer  an  ideal, 
but  has  been  obtained  as  a  legal  maximum  for  all  laborers  in 
mines  in  Arizona,  Colorado,  Missouri,  Montana,  Nevada,  Utah, 
and  Wyoming.  Eighteen  states,  both  east  and  west,  restrict  to 
an  eight-hour  day  all  work  contracted  for  by  the  state. 

If  it  is  recognized  as  desirable  that  men  should  not  be  obliged 
to  work  more  than  eight  hours  in  a  day  in  certain  industries,  the 
work  of  women  should,  without  question,  be  limited  to  that  maxi- 
mum. If  a  working-day  of  ten,  twelve,  or  fourteen  hours  reduces 
a  man  to  the  level  of  a  mere  machine,  it  leaves  a  woman  in  a  more 
unhappy  plight  —  in  imminent  danger  of  physical  breakdown. 

The  new  strain  in  industry. —  From  the  point  of  view  of 


314  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

health,  two  particular  hardships  exist  for  the  woman  worker :  the 
extreme  length  of  the  working-day  and  the  requirement  of  night 
work.  The  former  is  the  more  widespread  evil,  and  directly 
affects  the  larger  number. 

The  industries  of  today  differ  most  markedly  from  those  of 
the  past  in  the  relentless  speed  which  they  require.  This  speed  is 
acquired  in  various  ways :  by  mechanical  devices  which  "  speed 
up"  the  individual  machines;  by  increasing  the  number  of 
machines  attended  by  each  worker;  by  the  specialization  which 
trains  a  worker  to  one  detail  of  production  year  after  year;  and 
by  other  methods. 

To  trace  this  undeniable  evolution  of  the  different  industries 
employing  women  does  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  this  article. 
That  the  increase  in  speed  affects  all  manufacture  has  been  con- 
sidered at  once  a  national  distinction  and  a  superiority.  It  is  as 
marked  in  the  lowest  depths  of  sweat-shop  labor  as  in  the  most 
advanced  New  England  mills,  where  the  eight  looms  per  worker, 
normal  a  few  years  ago,  have  increased  to  twelve,  fourteen,  and 
even  sixteen  looms  per  worker. 

One  of  the  most  conspicuous  examples  of  trades  which  have 
vastly  increased  their  output  during  the  last  few  years  —  and  an 
example  most  pertinent  to  the  discussion  of  women's  employment 
—  is  the  stitched-underwear  trade.  A  brief  description  of  this 
industry  may  illustrate  the  conditions  under  which  a  large  and 
rapidly  increasing  class  of  young  girls  are  employed.  The 
machines  have  been  so  improved  that  they  set  twice  as  many 
stitches  as  they  did  five  years  ago,  the  best  machines,  driven  by 
dynamo  power,  now  setting  4,400  stitches  a  minute. 

The  operative  cannot  see  the  needle;  she  sees  merely  a  beam  of  light 
striking  the  steel  needle  from  the  electric  lamp  above  her  head.  But  this  she 
must  watch,  as  a  cat  watches  a  mousehole;  for  one  variation  means  that  a 
broken  needle  is  cutting  the  fibers  of  the  garment,  and  a  different  variation 
means  that  the  thread  is  broken  and  the  seam  is  having  stitches  left  unsewn. 
Then  the  operative  must  instantly  touch  a  button  and  stop  the  machine. 
Such  intent  watching  wears  out  alike  nerves  and  eyes. 

The  result  of  speed  so  greatly  increased  tends  inevitably 
to  nervous  exhaustion.     Machines  may  be  revolved  more  and 


I 


THE  NECESSARY  SEQUEL  OF  CHILD-LABOR  LAWS      315 

more  swiftly,  but  the  endurance  of  the  girl  workers  remains  the 
same.  No  increase  in  vitality  responds  to  the  heightened  pressure. 
A  constant  drain  of  nervous  energy  follows  —  particularly  deplor- 
able in  the  case  of  young  women,  whether  they  are  to  marry 
after  a  few  years  of  overstrain,  or  to  continue  through  longer 
years  of  such  employment. 

Larger  proportion  of  young  workers. —  In  the  ages  of  the 
workers  the  difference  between  working-men  and  working-women 
is  most  marked.  The  largest  percentage  of  men  engaged  in  gain- 
ful occupations  are  adults  in  the  prime  of  their  strength,  between 
the  ages  of  twenty-five  and  thirty-four  years.  The  largest  per- 
centage of  working-women  are  between  sixteen  and  twenty  years 
of  age  —  a  fact  which  indicates  more  clearly  than  all  comments 
how  immature,  how  helpless,  and  how  dependent  upon  the  bene- 
ficence of  employers  is  this  rapidly  growing  body  of  wage- 
earners. 

The  enormous  proportion  of  young  girls  in  certain  branches 
of  manufacture  is  brought  out  in  the  following  statements :  In 
silk-mills,  for  instance,  the  percentage  of  young  men  (between 
sixteen  and  twenty  years)  is  less  than  one-third  of  the  older  men 
over  twenty-one  years.  Young  girls  are  employed  in  such  large 
numbers  that  the  percentage  of  those  between  sixteen  and  twenty 
years  is  the  same  as  that  of  all  the  women  over  twenty-one. 

Young  men  between  16  and  20  years 8.8 

Men  over  21  years 26.8 

Young  girls  between  16  and  20  years 24.2 

Women   over  21   years 24.4 

So,  too,  in  knitting  and  hosiery  mills  the  percentage  of  young 
men  is  small  —  only  one-half  of  the  older  men.  The  percentage 
of  young  girls  is  again  practically  the  same  as  that  of  the  older 
women : 

Young  girls  between  16  and  20 29.  i 

Women   over   21 30.1 

This  high  proportion  of  young  girls  is  found  in  almost  all 
branches  of  manufacture  in  which  women  are  employed.  The 
advancing  army  of  "  working-women  "  continues  to  be  recruited 


3i6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

from  the  ranks  of  growing  girls,  as  the  older  women  marry  and 
retire  from  wage-earning. 

The  length  of  the  working-day. —  Obviously  it  is  imprac- 
ticable, if  it  were  desirable,  to  retard  the  industrial  pace. 
Machines  once  speeded  or  duplicated  will  not  be  slowed  or  simpli- 
fied to  save  the  workers,  young  or  old.  A  different  and  entirely 
feasible  plan  is  to  lessen  the  daily  hours  of  application  to  work  so 
insidiously  exhausting.  In  proportion  to  the  increased  velocity  of 
the  machines,  and  the  greater  strain  of  attention,  justice  and  the 
barest  economy  of  strength  would  suggest  a  shortened  workday. 
Night  work  for  women  and  young  girls  should  be  entirely  elimi- 
nated. The  tables  which  follow  show  how  far  women  are  already 
protected  by  legislation  in  the  various  states. 

Only  five  states  specifically  prohibit  the  employment  of  women 
at  night: 

WORK  AT  NIGHT  PROHIBITED 

Between  7  p.  m.  and  6  a.  m.,  in  Ohio,  for  girls  under  18  years. 

Between  10  p.  m.  and  6  a.  m.,  in  Massachusetts,  for  all  women  in  manu- 
facture. 

Between  10  p.  m.  and  6  a.  m.,  in  Indiana,  for  all  women  in  manufacture. 

Between  10  p.  m.  and  6.  a.  m.,  in  Nebraska,  for  all  women  in  manufacture 
and  commerce. 

Between  9  p.  m.  and  6  a.  m.,  in  New  York,  for  all  women  in  manufacture. 

Between  10  p.  m.  and  7  a.  m.,  in  New  York,  for  women  under  21  years  in 
stores. 

Fourteen  states  restrict  the  hours  in  which  women  may  be 
employed  to  a  specified  number  by  the  day  and  by  the  week,  but 
do  not  forbid  work  at  night. 

WORK   RESTRICTED  BY  THE  DAY  AND  BY  THE   WEEK 

Work  restricted  to  — 

10  hours  in  24,  54  hours  in  one  week,  in  California,  for  minors  under 
18  years. 

ID  hours  in  24,  55  hours  in  one  week,  in  Ohio,  for  girls  under  18  years. 

ID  hours  in  24,  55  hours  in  one  week,  in  New  Yersey,  for  minors  under 
18  years. 

10  hours  in  24,  58  hours  in  one  week,  in  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Is- 
land, for  all  women. 

10  hours  in  24,  60  hours  in  one  week,  in  New  York,  for  women  in  fac- 
tories, and  girls  between  16  and  21  years  in  stores. 


THE  NECESSARY  SEQUEL  OF  CHILD-LABOR  LAWS      317 

10  hours  in  24,  60  hours  in  one  week,  in  Connecticut,  Louisiana,  Neb- 
raska, and  New  Hampshire,  for  all  women. 

ID  hours  in  24,  60  hours  in  one  week,  in  Michigan,  for  girls  under  21 
years. 

ID  hours  in  24,  60  hours  in  one  week,  in  Indiana  and  Maine,  for  girls 
under  18  years. 

12  hours  in  24,  60  hours  in  one  week,  in  Pennsylvania,    for   all   women. 

In  a  third  group  of  states  the  labor  of  women  is  restricted  to 
a  specified  number  of  hours  in  the  twenty-four,  but  no  restriction 
by  the  week  is  named,  thus  inviting  the  twofold  evil  possibility  of 
work  by  night  and  of  work  every  night  in  the  week,  including 
Sunday. 

WORK  RESTRICTED  BY  THE  DAY  ONLY 

Work  restricted  to  — 

8  hours  in  24,  in  Colorado,  for  women  in  all  employments  requiring 
them  to  stand. 

ID  hours  in  24,  in  Maryland  in  mills.  North  Dakota,  South  Dakota,  Vir- 
ginia, and  Washington,  for  all  women. 

Practical  working  of  the  restrictions. —  Like  all  statistics, 
these  tables  afford  merely  an  outline  of  the  conditions  under 
which  women  may  be  employed.  Various  factors,  such  as  the 
nature  of  the  industry,  the  efficiency  of  enforcement,  the  power 
of  public  opinion,  or  the  demands  of  trade,  all  vitally  affect  the 
practical  working  of  legal  restrictions.  Thus  in  the  retail  stores 
of  New  York  city  the  law  which  prohibits  the  employment  of 
girls  under  twenty-one  years  of  age  after  10  p.  m.  indirectly  bene- 
fits the  whole  body  of  older  saleswomen ;  for  so  great  is  the  num- 
ber of  young  employees  to  be  dismissed  at  10  o'clock  that  the  large 
establishments  find  it  most  practicable  to  close  at  that  hour, 
releasing  the  older  saleswomen,  who  would  otherwise  be  employed 
to  a  much  later  hour,  especially  in  the  holiday  season.  Although 
in  this  particular  case  the  protection  of  working-women  is  ampler 
than  seems  indicated  by  the  few  existing  statutes,  the  reverse  is 
rather  the  rule,  and  legislation  tends  to  lose  its  proposed  effect 
through  various  omissions  and  ambiguities. 

With  the  exception  of  the  five  states  which  prohibit  outright 
night  work  for  women,  mere  usage  actually  determines  whether 
their  hours  of  labor  shall  be  by  day  or  by  night.    When  labor  is 


3i8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

restricted  to  a  specified  number  of  hours  in  the  twenty-four, 
instead  of  being  restricted  to  a  specified  number  in  the  daytime, 
tacit  permission  for  night  work  is  thereby  given.  In  most  of  the 
states  which  restrict  labor  to  a  certain  number  of  hours  in  the 
twenty-four,  usage  prevents  the  employment  of  young  girls  and 
women  at  night.  That  usage  need  not  so  prevent  their  employ- 
ment is  shown  by  Pennsylvania,  where,  until  the  recent  law  was 
enacted  (May,  1905),  little  girls  from  thirteen  years  of  age  up 
legally  (and  many  much  younger  illegally)  worked  ten  hours 
every  weekday  night.  The  statutes  of  Washington  and  Oregon 
expressly  state  that  women  may  be  employed  ten  hours  at  any 
time,  and  women  have  accordingly  been  employed  in  Washington, 
not  only  for  ten  hours  at  night,  but  for  almost  twenty  consecu- 
tive hours  (in  a  mill) — a  period  supposedly  divided  into  two 
days'  labor  by  the  convenient  hour  of  midnight. 

Usage  is  thus  no  trustworthy  safeguard:  such  protection 
always  tends  to  break  down  when  most  bitterly  needed.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  legal  prohibition  of  inhumane  hours  works  no 
hardship  to  the  employers  who  are  humane,  since  precisely  those 
competitors  who  are  unfeeling  in  their  requirements  are  authori- 
tatively checked. 

Again,  many  of  the  existing  statutes  are  marred,  and  some 
totally  invalidated,  by  the  damagfing  exceptions  which  they  per- 
mit. In  New  York,  for  instance,  women  are  restricted  to  ten 
hours'  labor  a  day,  except  when  overtime  is  allowed  to  make  one 
shorter  workday  in  the  week,  supposedly  a  Saturday  half-holiday. 
But  such  an  exception  is  manifestly  impossible  of  enforcement. 
Without  an  army  of  inspectors  to  see  whether  overwork  is  fairly 
compensated  by  off-time  each  week,  such  an  exception  merely 
makes  the  law  evadable.  Nine  states  render  their  restrictions 
non-enforcable  by  such  exceptions,  allowing  overtime  in  order  to 
make  one  workday  in  the  week  shorter,  or  on  account  of  a  break- 
down in  the  machinery.  These  states  are  California,  Connecticut, 
Indiana,  Maine,  Michigan,  New  Hampshire,  New  York,  Pennsyl- 
vania, and  Rhode  Island. 

Progress  and  retrogression. —  Besides  the  defects  in  the  pres- 
ent statutes,  a  recent  and  deplorable  retrograde  step  should  be 


THE  NECESSARY  SEQUEL  OF  CHILD-LABOR  LAWS      319 

recorded  against  the  state  of  New  Jersey.  The  child-labor  law  of 
1904  repealed  the  older  law  of  1892,  under  which  the  employment 
of  all  women  and  minors  up  to  the  age  of  eighteen  years  had  been 
prohibited  after  6  p.  m.,  and  after  noon  on  Saturdays,  except  in 
the  manufacture  of  glass  and  of  canned  goods,  and  the  preserving 
of  perishable  fruit.  This  statute,  unexcelled  by  any  other 
(barring  its  unfortunate  exception),  was  sacrificed  in  the  effort 
to  obtain  better  protection  for  younger  children.  Workers  over 
sixteen  years,  from  being  safeguarded  by  one  of  the  most 
enlightened  measures  devised,  are  now  left  entirely  without  legis- 
lative protection. 

If  the  example  of  New  Jersey  shows  how  one  state  has  retro- 
graded through  a  lack  of  effort  to  retain  its  wise  legislation, 
Massachusetts  has  lately  illustrated  how  an  alert  public  interest 
may  carry  through  and  preserve  beneficent  laws.  The  provision 
restricting  women's  labor  to  fifty-eight  hours  in  one  week  in 
manufacture  was  extended  to  include  mercantile  establishments 
in  1901.  But  this  valuable  statute  was  suspended,  and  the 
employment  of  women  in  retail  stores  was  allowed  for  unlimited 
hours  at  precisely  the  season  when  protection  is  most  urgently 
needed  —  during  the  rush  of  the  holiday  season  in  December. 
Public  condemnation  of  an  exception  so  susceptible  of  abuse 
grew,  until  in  1904  the  exception  permitting  December  overwork 
was  repealed.  Only  one  year  later,  in  1905,  an  attempt  was 
made  to  legalize  again  the  unlimited  hours  in  stores  during 
December.  Unable  to  obtain  this  wholesale  exception,  certain 
merchants  attempted  to  secure  at  least  some  modification  of  the 
law.  They  asked  the  legislature  to  authorize  unrestricted  hours 
for  women  during  part  of  December,  if  not  the  whole  month. 
They  asked  that  women  over  twenty-one  years  of  age  be  exempted 
from  the  law,  and,  failing  to  secure  these  exceptions,  they  wished 
the  law  to  be  suspended  during  December  in  all  the  state  of 
Massachusetts  outside  of  Boston.  These  requests  were  refused, 
and  the  legislature,  persuaded  of  the  gain  to  employees  from  the 
one  year's  enforcement  of  the  law,  preserved  it  intact. 

The  new  (1905)  law  of  Pennsylvania  deals  with  overwork 
at  the  Christmas  season  in  the  same  way,  by  limiting  each  day's 


320  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

work  and  each  week's  work  to  a  specified  number  of  hours.  There 
is  no  time  at  night  set  when  employees  must  be  dismissed,  pro- 
vided they  are  not  detained  more  than  the  maximum  number  of 
hours.  The  hardships  of  the  holiday  trade  are  recognized  by 
reducing  to  ten  hours,  during  December,  the  inhumane  Pennsyl- 
vania working-day  of  twelve  hours  for  women  and  children. 

This  direct  method  of  restricting  the  hours  of  labor  during 
December,  which  has  been  admirably  enforced  in  Massachusetts, 
is  clearly  the  most  effective  check  upon  a  deplorable  abuse.  The 
indirect  method  of  New  York,  where  the  older  employees  are 
automatically  benefited  by  the  law  prohibiting  employment  of 
girls  under  twenty-one  years  after  lo  p.  m.,  is  at  best  uncertain. 
Those  establishments  which  employ  no  minors  under  twenty-one 
years  may  detain  their  older  saleswomen  until  any  hour  of  the 
night,  and  for  as  many  hours  in  the  day  or  in  the  week  as  they 
may  see  fit. 

Women  in  stores. —  The  shortened  workday  is  as  greatly 
needed  by  the  employees  of  mercantile  establishments  as  it  is  by 
factory  workers.  The  increased  activity  of  the  modem  depart- 
ment store,  with  its  long  hours  of  standing,  especially  at  the  rush 
seasons,  adds  to  the  strain  of  such  employment,  as  the  improved 
machinery  does  to  the  modem  factory.  Moreover,  the  very 
general  legal  provision  requiring  seats  for  employees  is  most 
difficult  to  enforce.  The  existence  of  the  seats  is  easily  secured; 
liberty  to  use  them  may  as  easily  be  denied.  The  comparative 
leisure  for  their  use  is  at  best  short;  but  the  curtailed  working- 
day,  such  as  the  best  shops  now  approximate,  would  be  a  definite 
and  enforceable  protection. 

Sweat-shops. —  As  the  agitation  against  child-labor  has 
brought  to  light  numbers  of  child  workers  until  recently  ignored 
by  any  protecting  legislation  (the  little  newsboys,  the  peddlers, 
the  lads  in  the  messenger  service,  and  other  street  workers),  so  a 
renewed  interest  in  legislation  for  women  reveals  the  army  of 
nondescript  women  workers  unprotected  by  any  law.  The 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  women  in  the  tenements  of  large 
cities  who  carry  on  tenement  industries  —  who  sew  by  hand  or  on 
foot-power  machines,  who  make  every  variety  of  women's  wear 


THE  NECESSARY  SEQUEL  OF  CHILD-LABOR  LAWS      321 

from  the  coarsest  to  the  finest,  and  every  variety  of  article  from 
paper  bags  to  umbrellas  and  cigarettes  —  continue  to  labor  for 
hours  limited  only  by  the  extreme  of  physical  endurance.  Not 
until  tenement  work  is  totally  prohibited  will  these  workers  be 
freed  from  the  intolerable  conditions  of  pauper  employment  in  the 
home:  unlimited  hours,  a  bare  minimum  of  pay,  and  the  wreck 
of  all  the  decencies  of  home  life. 

Prohibited  trades. —  Certain  industries  have  already  been 
closed  to  women  by  law  in  the  United  States,  but  these  prohibi- 
tions are  few  and  sporadic,  enacted  in  obedience  to  certain  local 
interests  rather  than  to  any  broad  theories  of  fitness. 

The  employment  of  women  in  mines  is  forbidden  in  most  of 
the  states.  The  employment  of  women  in  bar-rooms,  such  as  is 
■customary  in  England,  is  contrary  to  public  opinion  in  America, 
and  consequently  is  prohibited  by  many  states.  Seven  states  have 
enacted  laws  against  the  employment  of  women  in  the  trade  of 
buffing  and  polishing  metals,  and  several  do  not  allow  young  girls 
to  be  engaged  as  public  messengers.  The  elaborate  regulations  of 
■dangerous  trades  enacted  in  England  and  on  the  continent  for 
both  adults  and  children  find  no  parallel  in  the  United  States. 
The  injurious  effects  of  employments  involving  the  use  of  poisons, 
acids,  gases,  atmospheric  extremes,  or  other  dangerous  processes, 
still  await  adequate  investigation  and  legislation  in  this  country. 

Other  trades. —  Of  more  immediate  concern  are  the  great 
numbers  of  women  who,  young  and  unorganized,  so  insufficiently 
guarded  by  the  law,  work  at  the  ordinary  industries.  The  census 
figures,  confirming  the  statements  of  all  careful  observers,  have 
borne  witness  to  the  rate  at  which  this  body  of  young  wage- 
-eamers  is  increasing  in  different  trades.  It  answers  the  demand 
for  labor,  not  only  in  the  vast  number  of  factories  and  stores,  but 
in  many  other  fields  of  industry.  The  telegraph  and  telephone 
service  —  a  service  which  strains  to  the  utmost  the  operator's 
nervous  energy  —  requires  every  year  a  larger  number  of  em- 
ployees. In  every  state  many  young  girls  are  employed  in  laun- 
<lries  and  bakeries,  where  the  work  is  of  a  peculiarly  tiring  order, 
involving  hours  of  standing,  the  lifting  of  heavy  weights,  and 
>the  breathing  of  overheated  or  overhumid  air.    Many  others  are 


322  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

found  in  the  exacting  service  of  the  restaurant,  with  its  long  and 
irregular  hours;  or  at  the  flower-  and  book-stands  of  railway 
stations  the  country  over.  There  are  also  large  numbers  of  older 
women,  employed  at  coarser  work  for  unlimited  hours,  such  as 
those  who  scrub  and  clean  offices  and  public  buildings. 

The  Supreme  Court  on  labor  legislation. —  For  all  these 
workers,  those  partly  protected  and  those  unprotected,  any  future 
legislation  must  be  broad  and  inclusive,  to  afford  real  relief. 
Labor  legislation  prohibiting  certain  employments  or  restricting 
the  hours  of  labor  has  in  some  instances  been  wrecked  upon  the 
Fourteenth  Amendment  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States, 
which  assures  to  every  man  liberty  of  contract.  This  liberty  of 
the  individual,  however,  to  contract  for  such  purposes  and  under 
such  conditions  as  he  pleases,  must  yield  to  superior  considera- 
tions of  life,  health,  and  safety.  Under  the  police  powers  of  the 
state,  specific  measures  can  be  enacted  from  time  to  time  against 
clearly  proved  abuses.  When  laws  restricting  the  hours  of  labor 
have  been  declared  unconstitutional  by  the  federal  Supreme  Court, 
the  state  legislatures  have  been  held  to  infringe  upon  the  indi- 
vidual right  of  contract  without  good  cause;  or,  in  other  words, 
the  evil  against  which  legislation  was  aimed  was  held  not  evil 
enough  to  justify  the  interference  with  individual  rights.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  labor  laws  which  have  been  upheld  as  constitu- 
tional by  the  Supreme  Court  have  been  regarded  as  legitimate 
measures,  conspicuously  necessary  for  health  or  safety,  and  there- 
fore not  in  conflict  with  the  Fourteenth  Amendment. 

In  a  noble  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  on  the  constitution- 
ality of  the  eight-hour  law  of  Utah  (Holden  vs.  Hardy),  the 
court  held  that  the  hours  of  labor  of  men  might  constitutionally 
be  restricted  when  the  employment  was  a  hazardous  one,  like 
mining,  liable  to  injure  the  health  of  the  men  engaged  in  it.  The 
court  took  the  high  ground  that  the  health  of  workers  should  be 
protected  as  their  lives  are  protected;  that  the  health  of  the 
workers  is  of  concern,  not  only  to  themselves,  but,  as  members  of 
a  community,  to  the  society  of  which  they  are  an  integral  part. 
The  court  said : 

If  it  be  within  the  power  of  a  legislature  to  adopt  such  means  for  the 


THE  NECESSARY  SEQUEL  OF  CHILD-LABOR  LAWS      323 

protection  of  the  lives  of  its  citizens,  it  is  difficult  to  see  why  precautions  may 
not  also  be  adopted  for  the  protection  of  their  health  and  morals.  It  is  as 
much  for  the  interest  of  the  state  that  the  public  health  should  be  preserved 
as  that  life  should  be  made  secure.  With  this  end  in  view,  quarantine  laws 
have  been  enacted  in  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  states;  insane  asylums,  public 
hospitals,  and  institutions  for  the  care  and  education  of  the  blind  established ; 
and  special  measures  taken  for  the  exclusion  of  infected  cattle,  rags,  and 
decayed  fruit.  In  other  states  laws  have  been  enacted  limiting  the  hours 
during  which  women  and  children  shall  be  employed  in  factories;  and  while 
their  constitutionality,  at  least  as  applied  to  women,  has  been  doubted  in  some 
of  the  states,  they  have  been  generally  upheld. 

Again : 

But  the  fact  that  both  parties  are  of  full  age,  and  competent  to  contract, 
does  not  necessarily  deprive  the  state  of  the  power  to  interfere,  where  the 
parties  do  not  stand  upon  an  equality,  or  where  the  public  health  demands 
that  one  party  to  the  contract  shall  be  protected  against  himself.  The  state 
still  retains  an  interest  in  his  welfare,  however  reckless  he  may  be.  The 
whole  is  no  greater  than  the  sum  of  all  the  parts,  and  when  the  individual 
health,  safety,  and  welfare  are  sacrificed  or  neglected,  the  state  must  suffer. 

The  court  concludes  in  detail :, 

We  concur  in  the  following  observations  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Utah 
in  this  connection :  "  It  may  be  said  that  labor  in  such  conditions  must  be 
performed.  Granting  that,  the  period  of  labor  each  day  should  be  of  reason- 
able length.  Twelve  hours  per  day  would  be  less  injurious  than  fourteen, 
ten  than  twelve,  and  eight  than  ten.  The  legislature  has  named  eight.  Such 
a  period  was  deemed  reasonable." 

The  latest  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  upon  the  restriction 
of  the  hours  of  labor  (Re  Lochner  vs.  New  York,  April,  1905) 
may,  at  a  superficial  view,  seem  a  partial  reversal  of  this  important 
decision.  The  ten-hour  law  for  bakers  in  New  York  is  held 
unconstitutional.  But  the  fact  that  four  of  the  justices  of  the 
court  dissented  indicates  how  much  difference  of  opinion  existed 
within  the  court  itself.  The  majority  held  that  the  proposed 
"  health  law  "  was  arbitrary  and  unreasonable  in  attempting  to 
regulate  the  hours  of  labor  "  in  a  private  business,  not  dangerous 
in  any  degree  to  morals,  or  in  any  real  or  substantial  degree  to 
the  health  of  the  employees,"  and  therefore  violated  the  Four- 
teenth Amendment  to  the  federal  Constitution.  Justice  Harlan, 
however,  said : 


324  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

We  know  that  the  number  of  hours  which  should  constitute  a  day's  labor 
in  particular  occupations  involving  the  physical  strength  and  safety  of  work- 
men has  been  the  subject  of  enactments  by  Congress  and  by  nearly  all  of  the 
states.  Many,  if  not  most,  of  those  enactments  fix  eight  hours  as  the  proper 
basis  of  a  day's  work There  are  many  reasons  of  a  weighty,  sub- 
stantial character,  based  upon  the  experience  of  mankind,  in  support  of  the 
theory  that,  all  things  considered,  more  than  ten  hours'  steady  work  each 
day,  from  week  to  week,  in  a  bakery  or  confectionery  establishment,  may 
endanger  the  health  and  shorten  the  lives  of  the  workmen,  thereby  diminish- 
ing their  physical  and  mental  capacity  to  serve  the  state  and  to  provide  for 

those  dependent  upon  them I  take  leave  to  say  that  the  New  York 

statute,  in  the  particulars  here  involved,  cannot  be  held  to  be  in  conflict  with 
the  Fourteenth  Amendment,  without  enlarging  the  scope  of  the  amendment 
far  beyond  its  original  purpose,  and  without  bringing  under  the  supervision 
of  this  court  matters  which  have  been  supposed  to  belong  exclusively  to  the 
legislative  departments  of  the  several  states  when  exerting  their  conceded 
power  to  guard  the  health  and  safety  of  their  citizens  by  such  regulations  as 
they  in  their  wisdom  deem  best. 

The  right  of  the  state  to  restrict  the  hours  of  labor,  as  a  police 
measure,  is  not  denied  by  the  court  in  this  case ;  the  point  of  dis- 
agreement is  the  degree  of  unhealthfulness  or  danger  in  the  trade 
at  issue. 

Labor  legislation  for  women. —  Protection  ampler  and  more 
far-reaching  than  exists,  enacted  under  the  police  powers  of  the 
state,  is  now  claimed  for  women  as  necessary  for  health  and 
safety.  All  the  arguments  which  apply  in  favor  of  the  restriction 
of  the  hours  of  working-men  apply  with  a  hundred-fold  power  to 
the  restriction  of  women's  hours  of  labor.  Their  youth,  their 
helplessness,  their  increasing  numbers,  the  conditions  under  which 
they  are  employed,  all  call  for  uniform  and  enforceable  statutes  in 
their  behalf.  Eight  hours  were  deemed  by  the  Supreme  Court 
a  "  reasonable  "  period  for  men's  employment  in  an  industry  liable 
to  injure  the  health.  Eight  hours  cannot  be  called  an  unreason- 
able period  for  the  young  girls  who  constitute  so  large  a  propor- 
tion of  the  army  of  working-women. 

To  obtain  this  restriction  will  require  a  campaign  of  education. 
The  National  Consumers'  League  is  asking  co-operation  for  this 
next  great  step  in  protective  legislation  from  the  General  Federa- 
tion of  Women's  Clubs,  an  organization  whose  wide  influence  has 


THE  NECESSARY  SEQUEL  OF  CHILD-LABOR  LAWS      325 

done  much  to  secure  the  gradually  improving  child-labor  laws  of 
the  nation. 

There  is  needed,  first,  the  co-operation  and  sympathy  of  all 
who  have  at  heart  the  welfare  of  the  industrial  state.  "  The  whole 
is  no  greater  than  the  sum  of  all  the  parts,  and  when  the  indi- 
vidual health,  safety,  and  welfare  are  sacrificed  or  neglected,  the 
state  must  suffer." 


THE  JAPANESE  AS  PEERS  OF  WESTERN  PEOPLES 


EDMUND    BUCKLEY 
The  University  of  Chicago 


The  finest  —  that  is,  the  most  rapid  and  complete  —  adjust- 
ment to  political  environment  ever  made  by  a  people  was  that 
achieved  by  the  Jai)anese  in  their  revolution,  which  was  at  the 
same  time  a  restoration,  culminating  in  1868.  Although  fur- 
ther acquaintance  with  Japanese  history  reveals  the  fact  that  for 
over  a  century  scholars  and  princes  alike,  though  from  different 
motives,  had  been  working  up  that  restoration  of  the  imperial 
family  to  power,  the  same  further  acquaintance  also  reveals  the 
astonishing  depth  and  breadth  of  that  revolution,  so  that  wonder 
at  the  total  achievement  need  not  diminish.  This  marvel  of 
statesmanship  was  generally  perceived  and  generously  acknowl- 
edged by  the  civilized  powers  that  had  proved  useful  as  its  excit- 
ing cause;  but  no  proper  inference  was  ever  drawn  as  to  what 
might  be  expected  in  other  spheres  of  culture.  Indeed,  the 
favorite  position  for  wiseacres,  resident  in  Japan  or  elsewhere, 
was  to  query  whether  the  Japanese  had  done  more  than  don  the 
garb  of  civilization,  while  its  body  and  soul  remained  foreign  to 
them.  Probably  no  one  would  put  this  query  now ;  certainly  no 
Russian  would  put  it  in  respect  to  the  science  and  art  of  warfare; 
and  continuous  and  brilliant  success  j|n  this  terrific  branch  of 
modern  culture  has  so  called  universal  attention  to  its  authors 
that  the  query  will  probably  never  be  put  again  in  reference  to 
any  sphere  whatsoever  of  human  achievement.  The  Japanese 
learned  from  the  fame  they  gained  in  the  recent  Chinese  war  that 
only  by  this  sternest  test  of  human  endeavor  could  the  full  respect 
of  western  nations  be  won,  and  they  are  now  taking  a  second 
object-lesson  to  the  same  effect. 

But  the  Japanese  are  as  great  in  the  arts  of  peace  as  in  that 
of  war;  and  well  will  it  be  for  western  nations  if,  now  that  their 
attention  is  forcibly  directed  to  this  wonderful  yellow  race,  they 

326 


THE  JAPANESE  AS  PEERS  OF  WESTERN  PEOPLES      327 

take  the  trouble  to  examine  its  entire  culture.  Let  the  reader 
test  the  following  survey  of  Japanese  traits  for  this  astonishing 
thesis:  while  the  Japanese  stand  on  the  same  general  plane  of 
culture  as  the  peoples  of  Europe  and  North  America,  they  are 
distinct  rivals  with  them  for  pre-eminence  on  that  plane,  by 
reason  of  the  number  of  points  wherein  they  are  demonstrably 
supreme.  Should  this  thesis  prove  true,  it  follows,  of  course, 
that  no  "yellow  peril"  can  come  from  the  Japanese;  nor,  since 
they  now  enjoy  leadership  of  the  Far  Orient,  is  it  likely  that  any 
can  come  from  Korea  or  China.  To  be  sure,  should  the  entire 
Mongolian  race  rise  to  the  plane  already  reached  by  the  Japanese, 
the  Indo-Keltic  race  would  then  have  rivals  for  both  material 
and  mental  supremacy  such  as  it  had  never  met  before ;  but  that 
would  be  no  peril,  except  to  our  follies  and  foibles,  and  these  we 
really  ought  to  be  willing  to  part  with.  Rivalry  in  culture  can 
only  increase  our  own  culture,  provided  always  that  we  are 
willing  to  learn  in  turn  from  rivals,  although  these  be  of  the 
yellow  race.  But  it  is  time  for  our  survey,  which  need  not  here 
touch  more  than  what  Hokusai,  the  great  Japanese  artist,  called 
"  the  vital  points." 

As  physical  basis  for  his  culture,  the  Japanese  owns  a  body 
which  makes  up  in  agility  what  it  lacks  in  size.  Japanese  closely 
resemble  the  famous  Ghoorkas  of  India.  They  have  the  same 
admirable  balance  of  bone  and  muscle,  and  the  same  lightness  of 
movement  and  power  of  endurance.^  This  vigor,  with  a  related 
healthiness,  the  Japanese  owe  to  various  causes.  When  only  a 
month  old,  the  baby  is  taken  to  some  Shinto  shrine,  where  it 
receives  a  name,  is  devoted  to  the  uji-gami,  or  family  deity,  and, 
the  next  day,  is  strapped  upon  the  back  of  mother,  elder  brother, 
or  sister,  whom  it  automatically  clasps  with  arms  and  legs,  so  as 
frequently  to  acquire  bowlegs,  but  always  muscles  of  a  fiber 
resembling  that  of  wild  animals,  because  both  have  exercise  from 
early  life  onward.  This  outdoor  life,  with  its  fresh  air  and  sun- 
shine, reduces  infant  mortality  below  that  of  other  peoples,  so 

*  Here  plainly  is  the  physical  basis  for  those  recent  military  achievements 
that  elicited  from  Colonel  Gadke,  a  German  military  expert,  the  astonishing  ver- 
dict that  the  Japanese  infantry  is  now  the  best  in  the  world. 


328  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

that  the  death-rate  of  children  under  five  years  of  age  runs  no 
higher  than  that  among  older  people.  The  simple  food  and  drink 
of  the  masses,  with  their  moderation  in  smoking  and  liquor- 
drinking,  further  promote  health ;  while  the  daily  use  of  a  very 
hot  bath  protects  them  from  rheumatism,  and  this  in  turn  from 
organic  heart  disease,  of  which  it  is  the  chief  cause.  Japanese 
men  are  as  entirely  free  from  the  opium-smoking  of  their  Chinese 
neighbors  as  Japanese  women  are  from  their  foot-binding;  nor 
do  the  women  lace  their  waists  as  westerners  persist  in  doing,  in 
spite  of  all  warning  to  the  contrary.  What  little  waist  there  is 
to  the  Japanese  figure  is  filled  by  the  ohi,  or  broad  sash,  and  free- 
dom from  restrictive  coverings  results  in  a  faultless  shape  and 
marvelous  flexibility  of  both  hands  and  feet.  The  daily  bath 
makes  the  Japanese  crowd  the  sweetest-smelling  one  in  the  world, 
and  the  Japanese  skin  elastic  and  velvety.  Athletics  had  fallen 
into  disuse  since  the  revolution  in  1868;  but  a  unique  national 
sport  called  jujutsu,  or  the  "  soft  art,"  in  which  a  wrestler  throws 
his  assailant  by  skilfully  diverting  the  onset,  has  of  late  been 
enthusiastically  revived,  along  with  other  sports,  throughout 
Japan,  so  that  the  Japanese  Athletic  Association  now  numbers 
nearly  a  million  active  members. 

The  skill  and  industry  of  the  Japanese  in  agriculture  may 
readily  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  nearly  fifty  million  people 
subsist  mostly  on  foods  raised  upon  the  rim  and  crevices  of  a  long 
but  narrow  chain  of  volcanic  islands,  over  most  of  which  will 
grow  only  a  bambu  scrub  that  not  even  goats  will  eat.  As  grass 
is  scanty,  cattle  are  few;  and  meat,  milk,  and  butter  practically 
unknown  until  recently.  Fish  of  fine  quality  in  great  abundance 
has  supplied  the  place  of  meat,  though  fowls  and  eggs  are  eaten, 
as  indeed  they  are  eaten  the  world  around,  being  the  only  generally 
diffused  food  of  man.  Under  these  conditions,  agriculture  must 
be  intensive,  and  it  is.  Rice,  now  the  staple  grain,  is  sown 
thickly,  and  subsequently  transplanted  by  hand  and  a  blade  at  a 
time;  but  the  crop  never  fails,  and  its  quality  is  the  best  in  the 
world.  In  face  of  the  impossibility  of  raising  more  food  in 
Japan,  and  an  annual  net  increase  of  600,000  in  the  population, 
emigration  to  Hawaii,  the  Philippines,  Formosa,  and  Korea  has 


THE  JAPANESE  AS  PEERS  OF  WESTERN  PEOPLES      329 

become  a  plain  necessity,  except  where  population  is  absorbed 
by  the  recent  extraordinary  growth  in  manufactures  and  com- 
merce. Japanese  show  equal  skill  with  French  and  Italians  in 
the  culture,  reeling,  and  spinning  of  silk;  and  this  article  forms 
the  chief  item  of  export.  They  grow  tea,  mine  coal  and  copper, 
and  are  every  year  making  an  increased  number  of  articles  in 
demand  by  the  home  and  foreign  markets,  as  well  as  these  are 
made  anywhere.  Their  skill  and  industry  quail  at  nothing  that 
other  peoples  can  do;  and  when  the  raw  material  fails  at  home 
—  as  with  cotton,  iron,  sugar,  and  kerosene  —  it  is  imported 
from  abroad.  Under  such  conditions,  Japanese  commerce  grew 
from  13  million  dollars  in  1869  to  303  millions  in  1903,  of  which 
exports  furnished  145  millions  and  imports  158  —  an  unprece- 
dented increase  in  the  world's  history,  of  course !  Growth  in  the 
merchant  marine  has  reached  from  a  mere  coasting  trade  with 
junks  to  a  place  fifth  in  the  list  of  nations!  As  an  example  of 
organization,  Japanese  may  offer  their  postal  system,  now  the 
cheapest  and  perhaps  the  best  in  the  world,  besides  an  excellent 
system  of  postal  savings-banks.  Letters  are  carried  for  one  cent, 
and  postal  cards  for  half  a  cent  each. 

If  the  Baconian  maxim,  that  the  start  is  all,  be  correct,  then 
Europe  is  debtor  for  its  mathematics  and  science  to  the  marvelous 
Greeks,  whom  Francis  Galton  credits  with  the  highest  genius  of 
any  people  that  have  yet  lived.  This  science  other  Indo-Keltic 
peoples  in  Europe  and  America  have  hitherto  enjoyed  the  sole 
credit  of  deepening  and  extending ;  but  within  a  few  decades  the 
Mongolian  Japanese  have  shown  such  brilliant  results  in  the  same 
direction  that  here,  too,  they  must  now  be  included  in  "  the  fore- 
most files  of  time."  The  Murata  rifle,  with  which  the  Japanese 
army  is  so  well  equipped,  is  the  invention  of  a  Japanese,  and  was 
further  improved  by  Colonel  Arisaka;  while  the  smokeless  pow- 
der used  was  invented  by  Mr.  Shimose.  The  German  bacteri- 
ologist, Dr.  Behring,  must  freely  share  his  laurels  with  his 
collaborator,  the  Japanese  Dr.  Kitasato,  for  the  discovery  of 
diphtheritic  antitoxin ;  while  the  distinction  of  isolating  the  active 
principle  of  the  suprarenal  glands  called  adrenalin,  now  the  most 
powerful  astringent  and  hemostatic  known,  fell  to  Dr.  Takamine, 


330  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

after  European  and  American  chemists  had  sought  it  for  decades 
in  vain.  Messrs.  Hirose  and  Ikeno  are  equally  distinguished  in 
botany. 

For  the  foundations  of  logic  and  philosophy  the  civilized 
world  is  indebted  to  the  Greeks,  precisely  as  it  is  for  mathe- 
matics and  science.  It  now  seems  that  —  to  use  Goethe's  phrasing 
—  pretty  nearly  all  that  is  reasonable  in  these  disciplines  has 
already  been  thought;  and  certainly  Japanese  have  no  more 
need  to  show  originality  in  these  subjects  than  Americans  have. 
As  to  general  philosophic  ability  and  interest,  Japanese  students 
have  betrayed  no  deficiency  to  their  instructors  whether  at  home 
or  abroad.  Those  who  suppose  they  have  gained  benefit  from  the 
peculiar  metaphysics  of  Christian  Science  will  be  interested  to 
learn  that  it  was  closely  matched  in  the  early  nineteenth  century 
by  Kurozumi  Sakyo,  who  at  thirty-five  years  of  age,  while  rapt 
in  his  devotions  to  the  rising  sun,  was  so  penetrated  by  the  yoki, 
or  positive  and  cheerful  spirit,  that  "his  heart  suddenly  became 
pure,  and  he  laid  hold  upon  that  life  which  vivifies  the  universe." 
The  yoki  had  previously  saved  him  from  mortal  sickness,  and 
now  it  enabled  him  to  cure  others  of  various  diseases  —  a  practice 
which  has  been  continued  to  this  present  by  his  followers,  who 
constitute  a  considerable  sect  in  Japan. 

Though  the  Japanese  have  proved,  not  simply  position,  but 
pre-eminence  on  the  modern  plane  of  culture  in  the  spheres  of 
politics  and  warfare,  they  had  learned  the  principle  of  these 
activities  from  the  West.  But  in  the  case  of  art  no  such  discount 
can  be  made ;  for  the  Japanese  art,  both  fine  and  decorative,  that 
has  won  recognition  the  wide  world  around,  is  an  exclusively 
Mongolian  product.  This  recognition  has  been  tendered,  not 
only  by  confessed  admiration,  but  by  that  imitation  which  makes 
the  sincerest  praise.  We  have  the  authority  of  Richard  Muther 
for  the  fact  that  French  impressionism  was  inaugurated  by 
enthusiasm  for  the  artistic  marvels  that  Japan  exported  soon 
after  its  opening  to  foreign  intercourse.  Enthusiasm  for  the 
Japanese  swept  over  the  studios  of  Paris  like  a  storm;  and  in  a 
short  time  great  collections  were  made  by  such  masters  as  Manet, 
Tissot,  Whistler,  Degas,  and  Monet.     Finally,  the  Paris  Inter- 


THE  JAPANESE  AS  PEERS  OF  WESTERN  PEOPLES      331 

national  Exposition  of  1867  brought  Japan  entirely  into  vogue. 

Where  there  had  been  rhythm,  tension,  clarity,  largeness,  and  quietude  in 
the  old  European  painting,  there  was  in  them  [the  Japanese]  a  nervous  free- 
dom,   an    artificial    carelessness,    and    life    and    charm Artists    learned 

from  them  another  manner  of  drawing  and  modeling,  a  manner  of  giving  the 
impression  of  the  object,  without  the  need  for  the  whole  of  it  being  executed, 
so  that  one  knows  that  it  is  there  only  through  one's  knowledge. 

As  Paris  was  art  center  for  the  western  world,  these  Japanese 
traits,  once  adopted  there,  spread  everywhere,  and  have  now 
become  so  familiar  to  our  eyes  as  to  lose  some  of  their  erstwhile 
novelty.  By  reason  of  this  currency,  much  Japanese  art  now 
seems  as  familiar  to  us  as  Shakespeare's  plays  seem  full  of  quota- 
tions. The  puerilities  of  Dresden  china  and  the  improprieties  of 
Sevres  have  been  revealed  by  the  advent  of  the  famous  Royal 
Copenhagen,  which  closely  follows  a  Japanese  model;  while  the 
American  Rockwood  has  won  its  deserved  fame  by  adopting  a 
Japanese  type  to  American  clays  and  American  tastes,  and  a 
Japanese  is  regularly  found  on  the  staff  of  art-craftsmen  at  the 
Rockwood  studio  in  Cincinnati.  William  Anderson  sums  up 
the  survey  in  his  superb  Pictorial  Arts  of  Japan  with  the  words : 

In  its  motives  it  claims  a  share  of  originality  at  least  equal  to  that  of  any 
art  extant;  in  the  range  and  excellence  of  its  decorative  application  it  takes 
perhaps  the  first  place  in  the  world;  though  in  the  qualities  of  scientific  com- 
pleteness (perspective,  chiaroscuro,  and  anatomy)  it  falls  much  below  the 
standard  of  modem  Europe. 

But  while  these  faults  are  the  pardonable  and  remediable  effects 
of  a  mistaken  reverence  for  traditional  conventions,  and  indeed 
are  already  being  remedied,  the  remarkable  beauties  reveal  quali- 
ties that  no  academic  teaching  could  supply. 

But  most  people  have  heard  some  echo  of  Mr.  Alfred  East's 
dictum  that  "Japanese  art  is  great  in  small  things,  but  small  in 
great  things."  This  error  arose  in  part  from  the  seclusion  of 
"great  tilings"  in  private  collections  and  temple  treasuries, 
whereas  "small  things"  of  fine  artistry  are  abundant  in  Japan 
as  they  are  nowhere  else  on  earth.  But  also  the  fact  is  that,  in 
point  of  both  subject  and  form,  Japanese  fine  art  compares  fairly 
with  European,  as  Mr.  E.  F.  Fenollosa  demonstrates  in  his  lee- 


332  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tures ;  while  Mr.  K.  Okakura  has  shown,  in  his  Ideals  of  the  East, 
that  Japanese  art  has  been  informed  with  patriotic,  religious,  and 
philosophic  sentiments  as  pronounced  as  those  of  any  other 
people.  Nor  has  this  ample  content  failed  to  run  through  a 
development  correspondent  to  that  in  Europe.  Thus,  a  religious 
period  of  sculpture,  Chinese-derived,  in  the  seventh  and  eighth 
centuries  was  succeeded  by  one  of  painting  in  the  ninth,  tenth, 
and  eleventh  centuries.  The  statues  —  really  idols,  as  with  the 
Greeks  —  show  a  more  abstract  modeling,  as  becomes  the 
Buddhist  subject,  and  have  a  more  decorative  setting  on  lotus 
and  glory  than  was  practiced  in  the  West.  The  painting  reached 
its  consummation  in  Yeishin,  who  was  the  Fra  Angelico  of 
Japan  in  tenderness  of  line  and  glory  of  color.  Then  followed 
in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  a  national  school  —  the 
Yamato-Tosa  —  mostly  with  military  subjects  descriptive  of  the 
current  civil  strife.  Then  renewed  Chinese  influence  gave  rise  to 
a  grand  idealistic  landscape  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  cen- 
turies, which  yielded  in  turn  to  realism  in  the  sixteenth  and  subse- 
quent centuries,  though  all  pre-existent  schools  have  representa- 
tives to  this  day. 

A  unique  phase  of  this  realism  was  the  colored  block  printing, 
extra-academic  and  democratic  alike  in  artists,  subjects,  and 
patrons,  but  attaining  a  refinement  of  line  and  color  appreciable 
by  no  other  pavement  populace  in  the  world.  The  originals  were 
painted  by  such  masters  as  Kiyonaga,  Utamaro,  Hiroshige,  and 
Hokusai ;  and  the  process  work  done  by  unnamed  engravers  and 
pressmen,  whose  perfection  of  craftsmanship  is  almost  incompre- 
hensible to  the  westerner.  E.  F.  Strange  declares  this  "the 
highest  form  of  a  purely  democratic  art  the  world  ever  saw." 
The  people's  sense  for  nature  also  is  so  keen  that  Wordsworth 
could  have  no  message  for  them;  and  their  sense  for  decoration 
so  sound  and  simple  that  neither  could  Morris  do  them  service. 
Also  Morris'  maxim,  that  art  should  be  made  by  the  people  and 
for  the  people  as  a  joy  to  the  maker  and  user,  is  an  everyday  fact 
in  Japan.  In  fine,  the  Japanese  are  the  greatest  draftsmen  and 
colorists  living,  and  in  decorative  composition  have  given  the 
world  that  asymmetric  style  which  forms  the  only  alternative 


THE  JAPANESE  AS  PEERS  OF  WESTERN  PEOPLES      333 

from  the  symmetry  which  was  bequeathed  us  by  the  great  Greeks. 
If,  therefore,  there  is  any  peril  to  art  involved  in  current  inter- 
national relations,  it  must  be  to  the  yellow  race  quite  as  much  as 
from  it.  It  is  worth  while  to  notice  here,  as  a  precondition  of  all 
art,  that  the  Japanese  are  beyond  compare  the  neatest  and  cleanest 
people  upon  earth.  Neither  street,  yard,  nor  house  is  ever  seen 
in  the  least  littered  or  disordered;  while,  as  already  noticed,  a 
daily  hot  bath  keeps  the  whole  people  as  fresh  and  fragrant  as 
new  hay. 

Even  a  slight  acquaintance  with  the  history  and  present  prac- 
tices of  the  Japanese  can  leave  no  doubt  that  they  possess  a  keen 
moral  faculty,  however  it  may  have  been  diverted  from  our 
standards  by  varying  conditions.  There  is  added  comfort  in  this 
fact  for  those  who  believe  in  the  "  yellow  peril ; "  for,  even  should 
the  Mongolian  develop  his  vast  material  resources  in  his  own 
behalf,  he  could  still  be  depended  upon  to  respect  our  rights  at 
least  as  much  as  we  have  his,  for  that  could  strain  no  moral 
faculty  at  all  worth  the  name.  The  "varying  conditions"  just 
cited  were  communalism  as  contrasted  with  our  individualism, 
and  feudalism  in  contrast  with  our  industrialism.  Such  broad 
political  and  social  facts  as  these  determine  special  virtues  by  the 
score.  Thus,  the  chief  duty  in  Japanese  eyes  was  loyalty  to  the 
feudal  lord,  which,  since  the  restoration  in  1868,  was  transformed 
into  loyalty  to  the  national  lord  or  Mikado,  now  emerged  from 
his  sacred  seclusion  in  the  Kyoto  palace.  This  loyalty  was  bind- 
ing, whatever  might  be  the  character  of  the  liege  lord;  indeed, 
retainers  have  sometimes  committed  suicide  to  place  emphasis 
upon  disregarded  admonitions  to  a  dissolute  or  headstrong  mas- 
ter; and  the  duty  of  vendetta  —  avenging  the  murder  of  a  lord 
or  kinsman  —  was  carried  out  with  a  self-sacrificing  zeal  that 
reached  its  climax  in  the  "  Forty-seven  Ronins  "  glorified  by  all 
Japanese  to  this  day.  And  this  Japanese  loyalty  still  possesses 
the  sovereign  seal  of  kesshi,  "  ready  even  to  death,"  as  is  every- 
where evident  in  the  war  just  closed.  In  a  call  for  a  forlorn  hope, 
practically  everyone  responds,  some  observing  an  old  custom  of 
writing  the  petition  in  their  own  blood.  Japanese  can  count  the 
cost  and  then  be  perfectly  determined.     In  feudal  times  children 


334  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  samurai  were  made  familiar  with  death  from  a  tender  age  by 
their  parents,  who  taught  the  little  boy  how  the  sword  should  be 
directed  against  his  bosom,  and  the  little  girl  how  the  dagger 
must  be  held  to  pierce  her  throat.  The  hushido,  or  knightly  code, 
of  these  choice  souls  rested  on  a  tripod  of  chi,  jin,  yu  —  respec- 
tively wisdom,  benevolence,  and  courage.  "  Samurai  must  have  a 
care  of  their  words,  and  are  not  to  speak  of  avarice,  cowardice, 
or  lust."  And  though  the  samurai  as  a  caste  have  been  abolished, 
the  samurai  spirit  still  pervades  the  Japanese  army  and  navy, 
producing  officers  whose  plain  living  and  high  thinking  render 
them  doubtless  the  most  efficient  in  the  world. 

In  contrast  with  this  noble  samurai,  the  farmer,  the  artisan, 
and  especially  the  trader  were  contemned.  Said  Aochi  to  his 
son :    "  There  is  such  a  thing  as  trade.     See  that  you  know 

nothing  of  it To  be  proud  of  buying  high-priced  articles 

cheap  is  the  good  fortune  of  merchants,  but  should  be  unknown 
to  samurai."  In  addressing  the  samurai  the  trader  was  required 
to  touch  the  ground  with  his  forehead,  and  while  talking  with  a 
samurai  to  remain  with  his  hands  upon  the  ground.  Is  it  any 
wonder  that  under  such  conditions  the  trader  fell  into  lying  and 
dishonesty;  and  that,  during  his  transition  from  a  feudal  to  an 
industrial  system,  he  retains  some  of  his  vicious  habits  ? 

The  communalism  of  old  Japan  took  the  family  as  its  social 
unit,  and  valued  each  member  thereof  for  work  done  and  not 
for  intrinsic  worth.  Judged  thus,  woman  had  value  only  as  a 
mother  and  a  domestic,  while  man  was  left  free  to  resort  to  con- 
cubinage or  harlotry,  as  soon  after  marriage  as  the  fading  charms 
of  his  wife  ceased  to  please  him.  The  resultant  licentiousness, 
together  with  the  lying  mentioned  above,  form  the  evil  pair 
that  some  critics  claim  especially  disgrace  Japan;  but,  in  any 
case,  both  are  doomed  under  the  new  conditions.  Professor 
Gubbins,  translator  of  the  new  Japanese  legal  codes,  is  authority 
for  the  view  that  "in  no  respect  has  modem  progress  in  Japan 
made  greater  strides  than  in  the  improvement  in  the  position 
of  woman."  And  in  certain  respects  practice  is  even  preceding 
theory,  as  in  honor  accorded  the  empress,  and  in  the  public 
wedding  of  the  prince  imperial  with  mutual  pledges  for  bride- 


THE  JAPANESE  AS  PEERS  OF  WESTERN  PEOPLES      335 

groom  and  bride.  In  contrast  with  such  looseness  of  the  marital 
bond,  the  relation  between  father  and  son  was  and  is  exceedingly 
strong.  Filial  piety  ranked  next  to  loyalty  in  the  scale  of  duties, 
and  was  carried  even  to  excess ;  whereas,  according  to  competent 
observers  of  both  Orient  and  Occident,  we  allow  our  children  to 
fall  short  of  duty  in  this  particular. 

In  the  realm  of  religion,  the  Japanese,  like  ourselves,  adopted 
the  faith  of  an  alien  race :  we  a  reformed  Judaism  of  the  Semites, 
they  a  reformed  Brahmanism  of  the  Indo-Kelts.  Position  on  the 
plane  of  human  culture  in  this  matter  must  be  estimated  by  what 
Japanese  did  for  this  imported  Buddhism;  and  that,  at  least, 
equals  all  that  any  European  people  ever  did  for  Christianity, 
exceding  much  though  it  might  be.  There  was  the  ardor  of  early 
faith,  a  development  extending  over  a  millennium  of  years, 
dogmatic  interest  resulting  in  the  extant  eight  great  sects  with 
thirty-six  subsects,  provision  of  stately  temples  with  their  gor- 
geous cult,  and  the  wide  extension  of  monasticism.  Nowhere  in 
Japan  can  one  travel  ten  miles  without  coming  upon  some  tera 
or  temple,  devoted  to  this  noble  faith;  but,  still  more,  nowhere 
can  one  travel  a  single  mile  without  coming  upon  some  miya,  or 
shrine,  devoted  to  a  primitive,  native  faith,  that  of  Shintoism, 
faithful  devotion  to  which,  even  in  presence  of  the  more  imposing 
Buddhism,  must  be  counted  a  service  to  religion  over  and  above 
anything  achieved  in  Europe,  where  only  mere  fragments  —  what 
Professor  E.  B.  Tylor  calls  "  survivals  "  —  survived  the  incursion 
of  the  superior  faith.  This  faithful  preservation  of  their  early 
religion  has  rendered  Shintoism  the  most  picturesque,  complete, 
and  ancient  religion  of  the  natural  or  tribal  type  now  extant. 
This  statement  may  seem  open  to  challenge,  but  the  writer  is  on 
familiar  ground  here,  and  is  ready  to  defend  his  thesis  against 
all  comers. 

It  follows  from  this  survey  that  the  thesis  stated  at  the  outset 
IS  established  :  the  Japanese  do  hold  position  upon  the  same  plane 
of  culture  as  western  peoples,  and  are  even  rivals  for  pre- 
eminence in  many  respects.  There  can  be  no  "yellow  peril," 
therefore,  in  the  Japanese  leadership  of  a  progressive  Far  Orient, 
but  only  an  honorable  rivalry,  profitable  alike  to  yellow  and 
white. 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE   OF   PHILADELPHIA 


CLINTON    ROGERS    WOODRUFF,    ESQ. 
Philadelphia,  Pa. 


After  thirteen  years  of  unceasing  activity,  the  Municipal 
League  of  Philadelphia  adjourned  sine  die  in  the  autumn  of 
1904,  after  providing,  however,  that  the  work  in  which  it  had 
been  so  long  engaged  should  be  carried  on  by  new  men  with 
enlarged  resources. 

The  Municipal  League  of  Philadelphia  was  organized  in 
1 89 1,  and  played  an  important  part  in  municipal  affairs,  until 
its  activities  were  definitely  suspended  on  November  28,  1904. 
There  had  been  numerous  reform  movements  organized  in  Phila- 
delphia which  in  their  day  and  generation  had  done  much  for  the 
cause  of  better  municipal  administration,  and  whose  work  was  of 
great  importance  and  advantage  to  the  city  and  its  citizens.  In 
all  these  organizations,  however,  there  was  wanting  that  element 
of  representation,  in  the  American  and  republican  sense,  and  that 
thorough  organization,  which  experience  has  proved  to  be  essen- 
tial to  political  movements  in  the  United  States,  and  which  must 
of  necessity  precede  permanent  reform.  Then,  again,  these 
movements  had  made  little  or  no  provision  for  distinctly  educa- 
tional work.  Because  of  these  omissions  —  the  lack  of  repre- 
sentation, thorough  organization,  and  of  continued  and  dis- 
tinctive educational  work  —  many  who  had  been  active  in  behalf 
of  the  city's  welfare  felt  that  a  newer  and  more  comprehensive 
effort,  with  adequate  provision  for  party  organization,  was  neces- 
sary; and  in  the  autumn  of  1891,  as  an  outcome  of  numerous 
conferences  and  much  discussion,  the  plan  of  the  Municipal 
League  was  evolved. 

The  league  was  organized  to  secure  certain  definite  ends :  the 
practical  separation  of  municipal  affairs  from  state  and  national 

336 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  337 

politics ;  the  extension  of  the  principles  of  civil-service  reform  to 
all  city  departments;  the  conduct  of  the  city's  affairs  by  en- 
lightened methods  and  upon  business  principles,  so  that  Phila- 
<lelphia  should  have  the  most  improved  system  of  taxes,  of  street- 
paving,  of  lighting,  of  water,  of  drainage,  of  schools,  of  transit, 
and  other  public  necessities  and  conveniences. 

To  secure  these  ends,  the  league  proposed  so  to  arouse  public 
sentiment  and  to  awaken  civic  pride  that  the  citizens  of  Phila- 
delphia would  consciously  and  deliberately  demand  such  a  con- 
duct of  the  city's  affairs  as  would  result  in  the  highest  possible 
municipal  development.  It  did  not  feel  (to  quote  the  language 
of  an  early  report)  that  any  permanent  good  would  be  accom- 
plished by  spasmodic  effort,  although  such  effort  might  have  the 
excellent  result  of  temporarily  abating  what  for  a  time  was  an 
intolerable  nuisance.  The  politicians,  however,  who  are  much 
the  same  in  all  parties  and  in  every  city,  have  learned  to  allow 
periodical  outbursts  of  public  indignation  to  blow  over,  and  then 
to  return  to  their  old  haunts  and  old  ways,  and  rule  with  greater 
vigor,  greater  audacity,  and  less  regard  for  public  opinion  than 
•ever.  To  avoid  this  decline  in  the  public  interest,  to  maintain  the 
demand  for  good  government  at  the  sticking  point,  and  to  create 
what  may  be  called  a  permanently  persistent  public  spirit,  was 
the  problem  to  which  the  league  addressed  itself. 

How  successfully  it  accomplished  these  ends  it  is  difficult 
accurately  to  determine ;  although  an  account  of  what  it  achieved 
during  its  thirteen  years  of  activity  may  answer  the  question  in 
part.  Taking  up,  in  the  first  place,  the  work  the  league  did  along 
the  lines  of  organizing  public  sentiment,  and  those  who  believed 
in  its  principles,  we  find  that  it  participated  in  twenty  elections,* 
and  was  definitely  recognized  under  the  law  as  a  political 
party. 

Its  vote  varied  from  5,cxx)  to  58,000,  according  to  the  degree 
•of  public  interest.^    What  is  of  vastly  greater  importance,  how- 

*  There  are  two  elections  a  year  in  Philadelphia. 

'As  showing  the  extent  of  the  league's  political  activities,  the  following  table 


338 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


ever,  is  that  the  league  organized  a  number  of  ward  organizations 
and,  where  these  were  not  possible,  nuclei  of  workers,  who  could 
be  depended  upon  to  represent  the  league  and  fight  its  battles,  and 
who  now  constitute  a  very  important  and  effective  element 
of  the  present  City  Party  movement,  which  bids  fair  at  this 
writing  to  overthrow  the  Philadelphia  machine  and  measureably 
restore  to  the  people  of  Philadelphia  the  control  of  their  govern- 
ment. 

Any  citizen  of  Philadelphia,  or  any  person  whose  business 
was  in  the  city,  was  eligible  to  membership  in  the  league  upon 
signing  a  statement  to  the  following  effect : 

Believing  that  the  affairs  of  our  municipal  government  will  be  better  and 
more  economically  administered  by  the  absolute  separation  of  municipal 
politics  from  state  and  national  politics,  and  being  in  hearty  accord  with  the 
Declaration  of  Principles  of  the  Municipal  League  of  Philadelphia,  I  hereby 
make  application  for  membership  in  the  same. 

Once  a  member  of  the  league,  a  person  was  not  only  eligible 
to  any  office  within  its  gift,  but  had  a  direct  voice  in  its  affairs, 


of   nominations   made   for   election   officers   and   councilman   is    illustrative, 
figures  are  for  the  elections  of  February  19,  1901,  and  February  18,  1902. 


The 


Ward 


Fitut 

Second  

Third 

Fourth 

Fifth 

Seventh  

Eighth 

Ninth 

Tenth 

Eleyenth 

Twelfth 

Thirteenth 

Fifteenth 

Seventeenth  . . 
Nineteenth  . . . 
Twentieth  .... 
Twenty-first  . . 
Twenty-second 


I90I 

1903 

84 

7» 

66 

ai 

6 

16 
6 

SO 
45 

t 

31 

36 

3 
36 

16 

54 

133 

"7 

't 

14 

130 

60 

37 

107 

Ward 


Twenty-third  . . . 
Twenty-fourth  . . 
Twenty-fifth  .  . . . 
Twenty-sixth  . . . 
Twenty-seventh , 
Twenty-eighth  . . 
Twenty-ninth  . . 

Thirtieth 

Thirty-second  .  . 
Thirty-third  . . . . 
Thirty-fourth  . . . 
Thirty-sixth.  ... 
Thirty-seventh. . 
Thirty-eighth  . . . 

Forty-first 

Forty-second. ... 


Total 991 


i8gi 


40 
81 

31 
67 

39 

78 
46 
48 


189a 


69 
"7 


7» 
89 
90 
I 
78 
139 
93 
83 
64 
63 


1,641 


1801 

1903 

Select  counciltnen 

10 
51 
55 

39 
49 

School  directors 

Total 

xt6 

99 

THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  339 

which  were  managed  by  a  central  board  of  managers  composed 
of  twenty-five  members  elected  at  large,  and  one  delegate,  at  first 
from  each  organized  ward,  and  afterward  from  each  ward  of  the 
city  whether  organized  or  not.  The  league's  interests  in  organ- 
ized wards  were  looked  after  by  a  ward  committee  consisting 
of  ten  or  more  men  elected  at  large,  and  delegates  from  each  divi- 
sion, at  first  only  from  organized  divisions,  latterly  from  organ- 
ized and  unorganized  divisions  alike.  The  work  in  the  divisions 
was  looked  after  by  division  committees  consisting  of  ten  or 
more  members.  In  this  way  a  municipal  party,  governed  upon 
the  same  general  principles  as  national  parties,  was  built  up. 
While  the  efficiency  of  this  organization  varied  from  time  to  time 
and  from  ward  to  ward,  nevertheless  it  represented  the  first 
definite  effort  in  Philadelphia  to  maintain  a  distinctly  municipal 
party  which  would  be  recognized  as  such  by  the  courts  under  the 
existing  Pennsylvania  statutes,  and  which  would  have  a  perma- 
nent existence.  Moreover,  it  was  effective  in  developing  a  group 
of  men  who  have  since  shown  the  benefits  of  their  training  in  the 
splendid  work  which  they  are  doing  for  the  present  City  Party. 
It  created  the  skeleton  upon  which  the  subsequent  superstructure 
has  been  built;  it  created  an  esprit  de  corps,  and  made  possible 
much  of  the  splendid  work  of  the  recent  days  and  months. 

While  a  detailed  account  of  the  various  campaigns  of  the 
league  might  prove  interesting,  it  would  be  aside  from  the  pur- 
poses of  this  article  to  go  into  them.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  in  a 
number  of  its  campaigns  its  candidates  were  elected;  but  in  the 
majority  of  them  they  were  defeated,  either  because  of  the  over- 
whelming odds  against  which  the  fight  was  conducted ;  or  because 
of  the  insufficient  education  of  the  voters;  or  because  of  the 
coalition  between  the  Republicans  and  the  Democrats  for  their 
mutual  preservation;  or  (what  was  frequently  the  case)  because 
of  the  frauds  practiced  at  the  election. 

Indeed,  one  of  the  most  effective  lines  of  activity  in  which  the 
league  engaged  was  its  exposure  of  fraud  at  the  elections,  and  its 
unceasing  campaign  aimed,  not  only  at  its  exposure,  but  at  its 
correction.  In  1896,  realizing  that  the  existing  registration  laws 
of  Pennsylvania  were  totally  inadequate,  and  that  no  effective 


340  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

revision  of  them  was  possible  so  long  as  the  constitution  of  the 
state  of  Pennsylvania  permitted  anyone  whose  name  was  omitted 
from  an  assessor's  list  to  have  his  vote  sworn  in  on  his  own  oath 
and  that  of  another,  an  amendment  to  the  constitution  making 
possible  an  effective  personal  registration  law  was  drafted.  This 
amendment  was  introduced  into  the  Legislature  in  1897  by  the 
counsel  of  the  league,  who  had  been  its  secretary  from  1891  up  to 
the  date  of  his  election  to  that  body.  The  amendment  failed  of 
passage  in  the  session  of  1897;  but  it  was  again  introduced  in 
the  session  of  1899,  of  which  the  counsel  was  again  a  member. 
This  time  it  passed  the  House  and  Senate,  receiving  the  necessary 
constitutional  majority  in  both  chambers. 

After  its  passage,  the  then  governor  of  the  state,  William  A. 
Stone,  vetoed  the  amendment.  The  league  at  once  challenged  his 
right  to  take  this  action,  maintaining  that  proposed  amendments 
to  the  constitution  did  not  have  to  be  submitted  to  the  executive 
for  his  approval,  but,  after  receiving  the  necessary  vote  in  two 
successive  sessions  of  the  Legislature,  were  to  be  submitted  to  the 
people  forthwith.  Holding  this  view,  the  league  took  steps  to 
overcome  the  effect  of  the  governor's  veto,  and  began  a  suit  in  the 
Dauphin  County  Court  to  that  end.  The  lower  court  denied  the 
league's  petition  for  a  mandamus,  maintaining  the  right  of  the 
governor  to  take  the  action  that  he  did.  An  appeal  from  this 
decision  was  taken  to  the  Supreme  Court,  and  argued  at  length 
before  a  full  bench.  After  mature  consideration,  the  Supreme 
Court  unanimously  overruled  the  Dauphin  County  Court,  sus- 
taining the  league's  position,  and  denying  the  right  of  the  gov- 
ernor to  veto  a  proposed  amendment  to  the  constitution.^ 

The  league  thereby  established  the  important  principle  of  the 
right  of  the  people  through  their  representatives  in  the  Legis- 
lature to  propose  amendments  to  their  constitution  without  fear 
of  executive  interference. 

The  fight  for  the  adoption  of  the  amendment  was  continued 
by  the  league.  It  was  re-introduced  in  1901,  as  required  by  the 
constitution,  and  received  a  constitutional  majority  in  the  House 

*   See  Commonwealth  ex  rel.  Bumham  vs.  Greist,  196  Pa.  State  Reports,  396. 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  341 

and  in  the  Senate,  and  was  then  ready  to  be  submitted  to  the  voters 
of  the  state  for  adoption. 

To  avail  itself  of  the  co-operation  of  other  organizations 
which  by  this  time  had  become  interested  in  the  movement  for 
the  personal-registration  amendment,  a  "Union  Committee  for 
the  Promotion  of  Election  Reforms  in  Pennsylvania  "  was  formed. 
Of  this  committee  the  league  was  a  constituent  part  during  the 
period  of  its  existence,  and  a  dominating  factor.  The  committee 
(afterward  known  as  the  Joint  Committee  for  Election  Reforms, 
and  now  known  as  the  Electoral  Reforms  Committee)  conducted 
a  campaign  for  the  adoption  of  the  amendments,  which  was  suc- 
cessfully concluded  in  November,  1901,  the  amendments  receiv- 
ing 214,798  votes  to  45,601  contra. 

Thus  the  constitution  of  Pennsylvania  was  amended,  and 
effective  personal  registration  made  possible.  This  at  the  time 
and  since  was  considered  a  great  achievement  for  the  cause  of 
pure  elections.  Without  it  subsequent  efforts  would  have  availed 
but  little.  The  next  step  was  to  secure  the  pasage  of  an  adequate 
personal-registration  bill.  The  league  participated  in  this  work 
through  the  Union  Committee.  A  bill  representing  the  most 
complete  form  of  personal  registration  was  drafted  and  introduced 
in  the  session  of  1903,  and  again  in  the  session  of  1905.  Thus  far 
it  has  not  been  enacted  into  law ;  but  the  state  of  public  sentiment 
in  Pennsylvania  is  such  as  to  justify  the  belief  that  the  Legislature 
of  1907  will  grant  the  now  almost  unanimous  demand  for  legis- 
lation on  this  subject.* 

The  Municipal  League  was,  moreover,  very  active  in  the 
agitation  for  ballot  reform,  which  in  Pennsylvania  means  the 
elimination  of  the  party  square,  which  is  the  equivalent  of  the 
party  column,  or  group  in  other  states,  and  the  substitution  of  the 
Australian  system.  Thus  far  this  effort  has  not  been  successful ; 
but,  as  in  the  case  of  personal  registration,  the  present  prospects 
favor  an  early  granting  of  the  people's  demand.  Indeed,  steps 
have  already  been  taken  looking  toward  the  drafting  of  a  more 

*  Those  who  are  interested  in  the  discussion  of  the  ineflSciency  of  the  present 
election  laws  in  Pennsylvania  will  find  the  whole  subject  considered  at  length  in 
an  article  entitled  "  The  Election  Laws  of  Pennsylvania,"  published  in  the  Annals 
of  the  American  Academy,  1901,  by  the  present  writer. 


342  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

comprehensive  election  code,  embracing  sections  dealing  with  the 
question  of  ballot  reform,  personal  registration,  nomination 
reform,  as  well  as  with  the  general  features  of  election  machinery, 
the  league's  work  along  these  lines  being  the  basis  of  considera- 
tion. 

Incidental  to  its  work  along  political  lines,  the  league  was 
of  necessity  compelled  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  interpretation 
and  execution  of  the  election  laws.  In  1901  it  called  the  attention 
of  the  court  to  the  fact  that  for  a  number  of  years  the  "  list  of 
voters,"  which  the  law  contemplated  should  be  filed  in  the  pro 
thonotary's  office  (an  office  of  record,  and  open  to  the  public  under 
proper  restrictions),  had  been  locked  up  in  the  ballot  box  and 
stored  away  in  the  cellars  of  the  city  hall,  and  so  rendered  inacces- 
sible to  persons  interested  in  ascertaining  the  correctness  of  the 
vote  at  any  particular  election.  The  league  instituted  test  suits; 
and,  after  a  careful  consideration  of  all  the  questions  involved, 
in  which  the  league  was  represented  by  its  counsel,  the  court  sus- 
tained the  position  of  the  league,  and  decided  that  thereafter  the 
"  list  of  voters  "  must  be  filed  in  the  prothonotary's  office.  This 
had  the  result  of  cutting  off  an  important  form  of  election  fraud, 
it  having  been  the  custom  theretofore  to  run  in  fraudulent  votes, 
and  file  the  evidence  of  it  away  in  the  ballot  boxes,  which  could 
be  opened  only  after  a  most  difficult  process.  Now  the  lists  are 
filed  in  the  prothonotary's  office;  and  it  is  possible  and  feasible 
for  any  person  to  examine  them,  and  ascertain  just  who  voted  at 
a  particular  election  and  in  a  particular  precinct. 

The  league  was  likewise  instrumental  in  determining  the  right 
of  municipal  parties  to  a  circle  at  the  top  of  the  column  on  the 
ballot.  The  county  commissioners  maintained  (under  instruc- 
tions from  the  secretary  of  the  commonwealth)  that  only  parties 
having  a  full,  city,  state,  and  national  ticket  were  entitled  to  a 
circle  at  the  top  of  their  column.  The  case  instituted  by  the  Muni- 
cipal League  established  the  right  of  the  league  and  similar 
organizations  to  the  same  privileges  enjoyed  by  the  Republican 
and  Democratic  parties  for  a  circle  at  the  top  of  their  column  on 
the  ticket.  If  the  Legislature  should  pass  the  ballot-reform  law 
which  is  being  urged,  this  particular  decision  will  have  no  further 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  343 

value.  If,  however,  we  are  still  to  have  party  circles  or  squares, 
it  is  important  to  know  that  municipal  parties  similar  to  the  league 
are  entitled  to  have  them  as  well  as  those  which  nominate  a  full 
ticket.  This  decision  will  therefore  be  of  great  value  in  the  pend- 
ing campaign  in  Philadelphia;  because  the  City  Party,  which  is 
waging  the  independent  campaign  in  Philadelphia,  will  under  this 
decision  be  entitled  to  a  party  square  for  its  candidates,  although 
it  has  nominated  candidates  only  for  local  offices,  and  its  sup- 
porters will  have  the  same  convenience  as  those  of  the  regular 
(national)  parties. 

The  league  co-operated  with  every  effort  of  the  Joint  Com- 
mittee in  its  work  for  improved  election  laws  in  the  state  of  Penn- 
sylvania, and  made  many  of  its  acts  possible  by  reason  of  this 
co-operation;  moreover,  it  was  instrumental  in  securing  a  con- 
siderable number  of  decisions  of  the  court  concerning  election 
laws,  and  the  rights  of  parties  and  of  voters  under  them.  A 
detailed  account  of  these  would  be  only  incidentally  interesting 
and  useful.  The  more  important  and  significant  cases  are  those 
which  have  already  been  mentioned. 

The  league,  during  its  entire  thirteen  years  of  activity,  care- 
fully scrutinized  local  and  state  legislation,  and  called  public  atten- 
tion to  the  defects  of  proposed  ordinances  and  acts  of  assembly. 
In  doing  this,  it  preached  a  consistent  doctrine,  and  was  influential 
in  creating  a  public  sentiment  which  is  now  beginning  to  manifest 
itself  in  most  decisive  fashion. 

Always  true  to  its  declaration  that  "  the  interests  of  the  people 
will  be  best  served  by  the  municipal  ownership,  control,  and  oper- 
ation of  public  services ;  that  no  lease  or  franchise  should  in  any 
case  be  granted  except  for  a  limited  period,  and  with  full  provi- 
sion for  adequate  regulation  by  and  remuneration  to  the  city,"  it 
consistently  called  attention  to  the  shortcomings  of  franchise 
legislation  both  in  the  city  hall  of  Philadelphia  and  the  state 
capitol  at  Harrisburg.  At  first  its  opposition  was  considered 
merely  academic;  and  while,  I  regret  to  record  it,  its  policy  has 
not  yet  been  enacted  into  law,  nevertheless  the  sentiment  of  the 
people  of  Philadelphia  now  seems  to  be  substantially  as  expressed 
in  the  declaration  of  principle  just  quoted;    and  whenever  the 


344  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

people  have  had  an  opportunity  of  expressing  themselves  on  the 
subject,  it  has  been  in  accord  with  this  fundamental  thought. 

The  great  demonstration  of  last  spring  against  the  proposed 
extension  of  the  existing  gas  lease  for  a  period  of  seventy-five 
years  was  a  concrete  manifestation  of  the  thought  and  feeling  of 
the  people  on  the  subject  of  franchises.  In  this  case  they  were 
successful  in  stopping  what  otherwise  would  have  been  a  great 
outrage  upon  the  people  of  Philadelphia,  not  to  call  it  by  harsher 
terms.  Moreover,  in  1901,  after  the  passage  of  the  "midnight" 
laws  and  ordinances  relating  to  street  railways,  the  expression  of 
public  opinion  was  such  as  to  indicate  a  substantial  acceptance  of 
the  league's  principles.  Unfortunately,  in  that  case  the  demon- 
stration was  not  sufiiciently  extended  to  stop  the  prostitution  of 
the  people's  rights ;  but  this  much  can  be  said,  that  public  senti- 
ment in  Philadelphia  in  the  matter  of  franchises  is  growing 
steadily,  and  will  in  time  manifest  itself  in  the  election  of  repre- 
sentatives, both  to  the  local  and  to  the  state  legislature,  who  will 
treat  franchises  in  accordance  with  the  modern  principles  em- 
bodied in  the  league's  platform. 

In  1897  the  league  led  the  fight  against  the  leasing  of  the  gas 
works  to  the  United  Gas  Improvement  Co.,  the  story  of  which  has 
been  told  in  the  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  Ill,  No.  5. 
The  league's  contest  was  based  on  the  ground  that  so  valuable  a 
property  should  not  be  committed  to  private  hands,  and  that  the 
city  should  reap  all  the  benefits  accruing  from  its  operation  — 
a  position  that  was  more  than  sustained  by  the  first  year's  opera- 
tion of  the  plant  under  the  lease.  Payments  to  the  city  for 
the  year  ending  July  31,  1899,  amounted  to  $467,628.41.  Presi- 
dent Dolan,  in  his  annual  report  to  the  stockholders  of  the 
United  Gas  Improvement  Co.  for  that  year,  reported  the  profits 
for  its  fiscal  year  to  be  $1,864,129,  an  increase  of  $489,930, 
largely  due  to  the  new  lease.  The  Equitable  Illuminating  Gas 
Co.  (which  was  brought  into  existence  by  the  lease,  and  was 
the  company  created  in  the  financing  of  the  scheme)  paid  on 
June  3,  1899,  a  dividend  of  $3  per  share.  Inasmuch  as  there  were 
62,500  shares,  this  represents  a  payment  of  $187,500.  Adding 
the  amount  paid  to  the  city  to  the  increase  in  profits  and  the  divi- 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  345 

dend  of  the  Equitable  Co.,  we  have  a  total  of  $1,145,058  profits 
accruing  from  the  operation  of  the  city  gas-works  for  a  year. 
The  market  price  of  the  stock  of  the  United  Gas  Improvement  Co. 
is  also  an  evidence  of  the  immense  value  of  the  lease.  On  May  3, 
1897,  the  United  Gas  Improvement  Co.'s  stock  sold  at  70^^;  on 
October  i,  1897,  at  82^  ;  on  May  i,  1899,  at  161  and  163^  ;  on 
September  9,  1899,  at  168^  ;  or  an  increase  of  $97.87  per  share 
in  two  years  and  four  months.  As  there  were  300,000  shares  of 
stock  outstanding  in  1899,  this  represented  a  total  increase  of 
$29,361,000  in  the  value  of  the  stock. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  to  note  that  the  leaders  of  the  opposi- 
tion to  the  recent  proposed  extension  of  the  gas  lease  were  mainly 
young  men  who  had  been  actively  identified  with  the  Municipal 
League,  and  who  had  received  their  training  in  public  work  while 
identified  with  it;  so  that,  while  the  league  itself  no  longer  took 
a  part  as  such  in  the  fight,  the  spirit  which  animated  it  during  its 
career  found  reincarnation  in  the  men  whom  it  had  developed  and 
trained. 

The  league  also  took  an  active  part  in  the  solution  of  the 
water  problem,  beginning  with  the  prosecution  of  the  bribery 
incident  to  the  introduction  and  attempted  passage  of  the  Schuyl- 
kill Valley  Water  Co.  ordinance,  and  continuing  through  to  the 
formation  of  the  joint  committee  which  had  so  large  a  share  in 
the  solution  of  the  difficulties  standing  in  the  way  of  positive 
action  on  the  subject. 

As  was  pointed  out  in  the  report  for  the  year  1897-98,  no 
sooner  had  the  gas-lease  scandal  been  fastened  upon  the  city  by 
the  betrayal  of  the  people's  interests,  than  the  stock-jobbers,  pro- 
moters, and  lobbyists  began  to  originate  various  schemes  to  secure 
control  of  the  water-works.  The  necessity  for  an  abundant  supply 
of  pure,  wholesome  water  has  long  been  a  pressing  one  in  our 
community;  but,  owing  either  to  the  inefficiency  and  to  the 
incapacity  of  our  municipal  government,  or  its  criminal  neglect 
and  indifference,  no  satisfactory  and  permanent  solution  had  been 
agreed  upon  up  to  that  time.  The  filtration  committee,  com- 
posed of  representatives  of  various  public  bodies,  and  on  which  the 
league  was  represented  by  its  president  and  vice-president,  had 


346  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

been  working  persistently  to  secure  the  introduction  of  an  ade- 
quate system  of  filtration;  but  for  some  inscrutable  reason,  this 
committee  had  not  been  able  to  accomplish  its  end.  It  was  difficult 
to  apportion  the  blame  for  delay  in  the  solution  of  the  problem, 
which  was  fraught  with  such  serious  consequences  to  the  comfort 
and  health  and  protection  of  our  city.  The  league,  appreciating 
the  gravity  of  the  situation  confronting  the  citizens,  at  once  began 
an  active  campaign  to  preserve  to  the  city  its  sole  remaining  asset, 
and  a  vigorous  protest  was  prepared,  and  sent  to  the  presidents 
and  members  of  select  and  common  councils,  urging  continued 
municipal  control  and  operation  of  the  water-works.  The  league 
was  also  represented  before  the  councilmanic  committee  having 
charge  of  the  matter,  and  urged  the  necessity  of  positive  action  in 
the  direction  of  filtration,  and  negative  action  on  the  ordinances 
providing  for  the  leasing  of  the  works. 

Before  long,  as  in  the  case  of  the  gas  lease,  it  was  to  be 
observed  that  one  ordinance  —  that  providing  for  the  leasing  of 
the  water-works  to  the  Schuylkill  Valley  Water  Co.  for  a  period 
of  fifty  years  —  had  insinuated  itself  into  the  good  graces  of  the 
councilmen  and  was  preferred  above  all  others.  Why  this  was  so 
the  judicial  investigation,  subsequently  held,  disclosed.  The 
Schuylkill  Valley  ordinance  passed  Select  Council  easily,  and  was 
proceeding  with  equal  ease  through  the  lower  branch,  despite 
determined  opposition,  when  a  member  from  the  Thirty-second 
Ward  rose  in  his  seat  and  openly  charged  that  he  had  been 
offered  $5,cxx)  to  vote  for  the  ordinance.  Under  the  influence  of 
this  exposure,  the  ordinance  was  indefinitely  postponed,  and,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  was  never  again  pressed  for  passage,  A  com- 
mittee was  appointed  to  investigate  the  charges;  but  little  came 
of  this.  The  Municipal  League,  however,  was  not  idle.  It 
retained  Hon.  Wayne  MacVeagh  and  other  counsel  to  assist  its 
regular  counsel  to  prosecute  all  who  might  in  any  wise  be  impli- 
cated in  the  attempted  bribery.  The  league  raised  a  guaranty 
fund  to  provide  for  the  expenses  of  the  investigation  and  prose- 
cution. The  counsel  determined  not  to  appear  before  the  com- 
mittee, whose  action  was  considered  a  foregone  conclusion,  but 
to  secure,  if  possible,  the  co-operation  of  the  district  attorney. 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  347 

whose  personal  abilities  and  official  powers  were  such  as  to  insure, 
if  he  should  decide  to  co-operate  earnestly  and  efficiently  with  the 
league,  that  the  corruption  incident  to  the  promotion  of  the  bill 
would  be  exposed. 

After  numerous  conferences,  the  district  attorney  took  hold  of 
the  matter;  steps  looking  toward  the  indictment  of  Smith  (the 
man  who  offered  the  bribe),  and  the  prosecution  of  an  investiga- 
tion by  two  judges  sitting  as  justices  of  the  peace,  and  as  such 
vested  with  the  authority  to  inquire  into  the  welfare  of  the  county, 
were  inaugurated;  Judges  Bregy  and  Gordon  agreed  to  sit  as 
committing  magistrates  and  justices  of  the  peace;  Stevenson  (the 
councilman  making  the  charge)  gave  his  evidence  again;  and 
Smith  was  bound  over  in  $10,000  bail  to  answer  at  the  then  pres- 
ent term  of  court  the  charge  of  corrupt  solicitation.  , 

After  this,  the  district  attorney  proceeded  with  an  examina- 
tion of  some  of  the  members  of  the  Committee  on  Water  to  ascer- 
tain, if  possible,  to  what  extent  corruption  had  been  practiced  in 
connection  with  the  Schuylkill  Valley  ordinance.  One  select 
councilman  testified,  under  skilful  cross-examination,  assisted  by 
the  judges,  that  he  had  been  paid  $500  in  cash  by  a  common  coun- 
cilman in  his  saloon  to  sign  the  report  of  the  committee  favoring 
the  Schuylkill  Valley  ordinance ;  and  that  another  select  council- 
man had  subsequently  offered  him  $5,000  for  his  vote  on  final 
passage.  Chairman  Bringhurst,  of  the  Water  Committee,  testi- 
fied that  the  promoter  of  the  ordinance  had  approached  him  with 
a  view  of  interesting  him  in  the  ordinance,  but,  upon  his  refusal 
to  have  anything  whatever  to  do  with  it,  Colonel  Green  declared 
that  no  other  ordinance  could  be  got  through  the  committee. 
Selectman  Henry  Clay  gave  similar  and  other  testimony  tending 
to  show  Green's  corrupt  connection  with  the  ordinance;  and  at 
one  of  the  hearings  Dr.  William  Pepper  testified  that  Judge  Henry 
Green,  of  the  Supreme  Court,  had  introduced  the  promoter  Green 
to  him,  and  that  the  latter  had  attempted  to  secure  his  support  of 
the  scheme ;  and  the  mayor  testified  that  the  promoter  had  shown 
him  a  copy  of  the  Supreme  Court  decision  declaring  the  $1 1,000,- 
000  loan  invalid  on  the  very  morning  and  at  the  very  hour  that 
the  court  itself  had  handed  down  the  decision  at  Harrisburg  over 


348  THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA 

one  hundred  miles  away.  As  a  result  of  the  testimony  elicited  at 
these  hearings,  Seger  and  Byram  were  bound  over  in  bail  of 
$10,000  each,  and  Green  in  $50,000  bail,  to  answer  the  charge 
of  corrupt  solicitation. 

None  of  these  defendants,  notwithstanding  the  convincing 
character  of  the  evidence  against  them,  was  convicted.  After  the 
indictments  had  been  found,  the  matter  passed  entirely  into  the 
hands  of  the  district  attorney,  and  the  league's  control  of  the 
prosecution  ceased ;  so  it  was  in  no  wise  responsible  for  the  failure 
to  secure  the  conviction  of  these  men.  This  much  is  to  be  said, 
however,  that  the  investigation  and  prosecution  for  which  the 
league  was  responsible  succeeded  in  defeating  the  efforts  to  lease 
the  works,  and  made  it  possible  for  those  who  were  interested  in 
th  introduction  of  a  filtration  system  to  have  their  plans  eventually 
put  into  force  and  effect.  In  this  work  the  league  took  a  leading 
part;  and,  as  William  Waterall  at  one  of  the  inspections  of  the 
filtration  plant  several  years  afterward  declared,  "whatever  one 
may  think  of  the  league,  credit  must  be  given  to  it  for  its  signal 
service  in  helping  to  preserve  the  water-works  to  the  city,  and  in 
making  possible  the  inauguration  of  the  filtration  plants." 

The  league's  constant  scrutiny  of  legislation  at  Philadelphia 
and  Harrisburg  led  to  the  defeat  or  veto  of  many  obnoxious 
measures,  and  to  the  amendment  of  others.  For  instance,  in  the 
matter  of  the  gas  lease,  while  it  could  not  and  did  not  prevail  in 
its  opposition  to  the  passage  of  the  ordinance  authorizing  the 
lease,  a  large  number  of  amendments  to  the  ordinance  itself  were 
incorporated  by  the  city  solicitor,  and  the  interests  of  the  city  very 
materially  safeguarded.  So  in  the  matter  of  water,  as  we  have 
just  seen.  Along  the  lines  of  the  street-railway  franchises  the 
league  persistently  opposed  the  granting  of  privileges  without  the 
city's  being  adequately  compensated  for  them  and  its  interests 
duly  protected. 

The  league's  scrutiny,  discussion,  and  criticism  of  ordinances 
granting  privileges  to  the  electric-lighting  companies,  to  the  tele- 
phone companies,  to  the  railways,  and  granting  wharf  leases, 
would  constitute  an  interesting  and  instructive  story  of  itself. 
The  action  of  the  leagfue  on  such  legislation  was  based  upon  a 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  349 

careful  consideration  of  the  interests  of  the  city,  not  only  for  the 
present,  but  for  coming  generations,  and  had  always  in  mind  the 
fundamental  principles  for  which  the  league  stood. 

Moreover,  the  league  carefully  considered  and  scrutinized  all 
legislation  having  to  do  with  municipal  questions.  In  1897,  for 
instance,  it  led  the  movement  for  the  veto  of  the  notorious  Becker 
bills  of  that  year,  which,  had  they  become  laws,  would  have 
accomplished  then  what  has  since  been  authorized,  but  not  ful- 
filled by  the  notorious  ripper  bills  of  the  present  year.  The 
Becker  bills  were  intended  to  transfer  the  effectual  government  of 
the  city  to  one-third  of  the  members  of  the  Select  Council  plus 
one,  as  their  object  was  to  compel  the  mayor  to  submit  all  his 
appointments  to  the  Select  Council  for  approval,  a  two-thirds 
vote  being  necessary  for  confirmation.  The  Becker  bills,  together 
with  the  ripper  bills  of  1897,  were  as  notorious  in  their  way  as 
were  the  ripper  bills  of  1905.  Fortunately,  the  league  was  able 
so  to  arouse  public  sentiment,  and  so  to  secure  the  co-operation 
of  the  governor,  as  to  prevent  their  enactment  into  laws. 

At  every  session  of  the  Legislature  during  the  league's  exist- 
ence it  kept  in  touch  with  the  more  important  measures  affecting 
Philadelphia.  While  it  was  not  able,  because  of  its  lack  of  finan- 
cial resources,  to  maintain  so  complete  a  representation  at  the 
state  capitol  as  the  City  Club  maintains  at  Albany,  nevertheless  it 
was  helpful  and  influential  in  calling  the  attention  of  the  people  of 
Philadelphia  to  those  measures  which  required  their  support  on 
the  one  side,  or  which  called  for  their  opposition  on  the  other.  It 
did  not  confine  its  efforts  to  opposing  bad  legislation,  but  con- 
stantly sought  to  put  its  ideas  concerning  municipal  government 
into  concrete  form.  We  have  already  seen  what  it  was  able  to 
accomplish  in  the  passage  of  the  personal-registration  amendment. 
In  1897  ^t  introduced  a  series  of  seven  bills  intended  to  extend  the 
principles  of  the  Bullitt  Bill  and  remedy  the  defects  of  that  instru- 
ment. These  bills,  viewed  from  the  broad  standpoint  of  the 
development  of  municipal  institutions,  represented  something  of 
far  deeper  interest  and  importance  than  a  disconnected  series  of 
amendments  to  our  existing  system.  While  containing  great 
diversity  in  subject-matter  and  contents,  there  was  nevertheless 


350  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

an  underlying  purpose  pervading  all,  which  gave  them  a  unity 
they  would  have  otherwise  lacked,  namely,  the  endeavor  to  adapt 
the  form  of  our  municipal  institutions  to  the  changing  conditions 
of  city  life. 

The  committee  preparing  these  bills  was  fully  aware  of  the 
relatively  subordinate  place  which  should  be  given  to  questions  of 
forms  of  government;  but  it  recognized  the  fact  that  a  form  of 
government  poorly  adapted  to  the  problems  with  which  it  has  to 
deal  is  a  source  of  weakness  in  the  body  politic.  The  committee 
declared  that  "  we  have  begun  to  realize  that  city  problems  are  not 
of  the  same  nature  as  state  and  national  problems ;  but  we  have 
not  drawn  the  further  and  more  fruitful  conclusion  that  this 
difference  calls  for  a  difference  in  the  form  of  government." 

It  is  in  this  connection  that  the  bill  reorganizing  city  councils 
marked  a  step  in  the  right  direction.  Framed  in  a  conservative 
spirit,  it  was  designed  to  preserve  the  point  of  contact  between 
the  present  and  the  proper  system.  It  did  not  attempt  to  make 
a  radical  change  from  a  bicameral  to  a  single-chambered  local 
legislature ;  it  merely  proposed  to  rehabilitate  the  present  system, 
profiting  by  the  experience  of  other  cities.  Our  present  legislative 
system  is  the  cause  of  an  enormous  waste  of  energy,  combined 
with  which  there  is  a  complete  lack  of  responsibility  to  the  com- 
munity as  a  whole.  The  attempt  to  enforce  responsibility,  and  to 
elect  the  best  type  of  men  to  councils  by  working  within  ward 
lines,  has  proved  to  be  a  disastrous  failure.  Political  responsi- 
bility is  inherently  different  from  business  responsibility,  and  must 
be  enforced  by  methods  which  only  remotely  resemble  the  enforce- 
ment of  responsibility  in  private  corporate  management.  Instead 
of  trying  to  develop  a  progressive  municipal  policy  out  of  the 
dickerings  and  compromises  of  local  interests,  we  must  endeavor 
to  give  expression  to  the  highest  standards  of  the  community  as 
a  whole.  Instead  of  judging  a  man's  efficiency  by  the  number  of 
special  favors  obtained  for  his  small  district,  we  must  come  to 
gauge  it  by  his  contribution  to  the  welfare  of  the  whole  com- 
munity. Instead  of  constructing  a  system  in  which  representa- 
tives from  constituencies  arranged  upon  one  plan  are  played  off 
against  representatives  elected  by  districts  based  upon  another 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  351 

plan  of  division,  we  should  endeavor  to  facilitate  the  expression  of 
the  most  enlightened  opinion  of  the  community. 

I  have  summarized  the  conclusions  of  the  committee,  not  only 
because  of  their  inherent  value,  but  because  they  foreshadowed,  to 
so  considerable  an  extent,  the  conclusions  reached  by  a  similar 
committee  on  charter  reform  appointed  some  months  later  by  the 
National  Municipal  League.  The  pioneer  work  of  the  Municipal 
League  of  Philadelphia,  not  only  along  the  lines  already  con- 
sidered, but  in  other  similar  directions,  has  not  been  fully  appre- 
ciated —  not  because  of  any  desire  to  deny  to  it  its  full  share  of 
credit,  but  simply  because  its  activities  have  been  so  numerous  and 
varied  that  its  own  later  work  has,  to  a  certain  extent,  obscured 
its  earlier  efforts.  , 

Another  of  the  bills  prepared  by  the  league  dealt  with  the 
granting  of  franchises.  It  illustrated  a  sound  principle  of  admin- 
istrative law,  of  equal  validity  at  all  times  and  under  all  circum- 
stances. No  matter  how  strong  our  desire  for  municipal  home- 
rule  may  be,  we  must  recognize  the  fact  that  in  those  cases  where 
there  is  the  possibility  of  a  conflict  between  the  immediate  and 
permanent  interests  of  the  municipality  some  form  of  central  con- 
trol is  necessary.  That  such  a  conflict  is  always  present  in  the 
case  of  the  granting  of  franchises  has  been  abundantly  proved  by 
the  history  of  American  municipalities.  It  is  the  function  and 
duty  of  the  state  to  safeguard  the  interests  of  coming  genera- 
tions ;  to  assure  to  them  a  participation  in  the  financial  and  other 
resources  of  the  community.  Hence  the  propriety  of  the  appeal  to 
the  Legislature  to  prohibit  the  granting  of  franchises  by  councils 
for  a  longer  period  than  thirty  years.  The  fact  that  our  bill  was 
ignored,  while  the  legislative  bodies  of  other  cities  are  prohibited 
from  granting  franchises  for  a  longer  period  than  twenty-five 
years,  shows  how  difficult  it  is  to  secure  wise  and  progressive 
legislation  in  this  state  under  its  present  leadership. 

The  Legislature  in  no  sense  encroaches  upon  the  sphere  of 
local  liberties  when  it  fixes  the  standards  of  action  in  cases  of  this 
kind.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  simply  protecting  the  municipalities 
against  the  short-sighted  action  which  results  from  the  lack  of 
proper  perspective  between  immediate  and  ultimate  interests.    In 


352  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

this  matter  the  experience  of  European  countries  is  conclusive. 
Wherever  we  turn,  whether  it  be  to  England,  Germany,  France, 
or  Austria,  we  find  this  principle  incorporated  in  one  form  or 
another  in  the  municipal  system.  As  a  result,  the  municipalities 
are  receiving  with  each  year  increasing  benefits  from  its  operation. 
In  Glasgow,  Huddersfield,  and  Sheffield  the  municipality  is  oper- 
ating the  street-railway  lines.  In  Birmingham,  Manchester, 
Leeds,  and  Bradford  the  returns  from  franchises  increase  with 
each  year,  and  at  the  expiration  of  the  twenty-one-year  period  — 
which  is  the  limit  of  grants  —  new  and  more  favorable  conditions 
have  been  obtained  from  the  street-railway  companies.  Turning 
to  France  and  Germany,  we  find  precisely  the  same  principles 
adopted,  resulting  in  a  continuous  lightening  of  the  burdens  of 
taxation.  In  addition  to  the  financial  advantages  accruing  from 
the  limited  period  of  franchise  grants,  there  is  another  and 
equally  important  principle  involved.  At  the  expiration  of  each 
period  the  municipality  obtains  complete  control  over  its  high- 
ways, which  is  impossible  under  any  other  system.  In  the  United 
States  constitutional  prohibitions  of  one  kind  or  another  make 
state  control  over  corporate  management  extremely  difficult.  The 
principles  of  constitutional  law,  that  no  state  shall  make  nor 
enforce  any  law  impairing  the  obligation  of  contracts ;  that  life, 
liberty,  and  property  shall  not  be  taken  without  due  process  of 
law ;  and  that  the  right  of  eminent  domain  can  be  exercised  only 
for  purposes  which  the  court  regards  as  distinctively  public  in 
character,  are  usually  disregarded  at  the  time  franchises  are 
granted;  but  they  assert  themselves  in  the  most  uncomfortable 
manner  the  moment  the  municipality  wishes  to  exercise  any  con- 
trol over  the  use  of  such  franchises.  This  fact  makes  the  neces- 
sity of  such  guarantees  as  were  embodied  in  the  league  bill  far 
greater  than  in  any  other  country. 

Through  its  control  of  the  patronage,  and  the  opportunity 
thereby  afforded  to  assess  public  employees  for  political  purposes, 
the  "  machine  "  has  been  able  to  maintain  its  power  in  state  and 
municipal  affairs.  If  a  permanently  improved  municipal  govern- 
ment is  to  be  secured,  we  must  remove  city  employees  from  poli- 
tics.   They  must  be  appointed  only  on  the  basis  of  their  merit  and 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  353 

fitness,  and  continued  in  office  free  from  political  exactions  and 
dominations,  and  for  so  long  a  period  as  they  discharge  their 
duties  faithfully  and  satisfactorily.  The  Bullitt  Bill  intended  to 
place  our  municipal  service  on  a  merit  basis;  but,  because  of  the 
provision  giving  to  the  heads  of  the  departments,  who  were  them- 
selves the  appointing  power,  the  authority  to  draft  the  rules  and 
regulations  governing  appointments,  it  has  failed  of  its  object, 
and  has  resulted  only  in  keeping  the  very  worst  and  most  ineffi- 
cient out  of  office.  There  is  no  more  vicious  principle  in  adminis- 
trative law  than  that  which  places  in  the  hands  of  appointing 
officers  the  ability  to  formulate  the  rules  in  accordance  with  which 
they  are  to  make  appointments.  Experience  has  time  and  again 
demonstrated  that  they  will  be  unable  to  resist  the  demands  for 
office  on  the  part  of  interested  politicians  and  office-seekers,  and 
that  they  will  therefore  make  the  requirements  as  meager  as  pos- 
sible. President  Proctor,  of  the  United  States  Civil  Service  Com- 
mission, testified  before  the  Senate  Investigation  Committee  that 
such  provisions  were  practically  worthless. 

Two  of  the  league's  bills  provided  for  a  civil-service  system 
based  upon  the  most  advanced  legislation  and  the  experience  of 
other  cities.  They  were  intended  to  remedy  the  defects  of  the 
present  charter,  and  to  establish  a  system  whereby  only  those  best 
fitted  to  carry  on  the  city's  business  should  be  selected.  A  third 
bill  prohibited  political  assessments,  and  was  designed  to  relieve 
office-holders  of  what  amounted  practically  to  forced  levies, 
extorted  by  fear  of  the  possible  consequences  of  refusal.  The 
moderate  and  conservative  character  of  the  league's  proposed 
legislation  was  shown  in  this  latter  bill,  which  only  went  as  far  as 
prohibiting  assessments,  although  the  committee,  as  well  as  the 
board  of  managers,  felt  that  the  only  effective  way  of  putting  a 
complete  quietus  to  the  whole  pernicious  system  was  by  making 
it  a  misdemeanor  for  any  public  officer  or  employee  to  contribute 
any  sum  for  political  purposes.  Until  this  is  done  there  will  be 
contributions  in  one  form  or  another  for  political  purposes  on  the 
part  of  this  class  of  citizens.  It  is  no  hardship  to  an  office-holder 
to  deny  him  the  right  to  contribute  for  political  purposes,  because 
there  is  no  legal  obligation  resting  on  him  to  hold  office.     If  he 


354  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

values  the  right  to  contribute  above  his  desire  for  office,  he  need 
not  accept  the  latter;  but  public  sentiment  has  not  as  yet  reached 
the  point  where  it  is  ready  to  insist  upon  this  method  of  reforming 
the  abuse,  and  until  it  is  ready  other  means  will  have  to  be  tried 
to  prevent  the  evil  now  existing  in  all  our  larger  cities.  The  col- 
lection of  large  sums  for  political  purposes,  aggregating  tens  of 
thousands  of  dollars  in  Philadelphia  at  each  election,  which  are 
disbursed  without  an  accounting,  and  only  too  frequently  for  pur- 
poses which  will  not  bear  the  light  of  day,  serve  to  perpetuate  the 
machine  and  its  influence,  and  at  the  same  time  undermine  the 
political  sentiment  of  our  communities. 

The  league  also  prepared  a  bill  to  prevent  dual  office-holding 
—  an  evil  which  has  seriously  afflicted  the  city  for  many  years. 
Although,  by  reason  of  the  political  conditions  which  then  existed, 
the  bill  did  not  become  a  law,  the  league  was  successful  in  indi- 
vidual cases  in  ousting  from  council  men  who  held  other  and  con- 
flicting positions.  For  instance,  in  1895  it  succeeded  in  having 
one  DeCamp,  a  manager  of  one  of  the  local  electric-lighting  com- 
panies, ousted  from  councils  on  the  ground  that  his  position  was 
incompatible.  Later  Samuel  G.  Maloney,  a  notorious  local  char- 
acter, was  forced  to  resign  as  select  councilman  because  of  his 
incumbency  at  the  same  time  of  the  position  of  harbor  master. 

The  league  participated  in  a  very  considerable  number  of  local 
activities,  to  enumerate  which  would  serve  only  to  illustrate  the 
breadth  of  its  sympathy  and  the  scope  of  its  activity.  It  is  to  be 
noted,  however,  that  the  league  was  the  first  organization  in  Phila- 
delphia to  inaugurate  the  demand  for  sectional  high  schools  —  a 
demand  which  is  now  generally  recognized  as  well  founded,  and 
is  finding  expression,  not  only  in  the  platforms  of  the  parties,  but 
in  the  policy  of  councils  and  of  the  Board  of  Education. 

The  active  spirits  of  the  Municipal  League  always  considered 
that  the  political  campaigns  which  it  waged  were  important  and 
valuable,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  of  their  educational  effect. 
These  campaigns  not  only  developed  a  group  of  active,  interested, 
intelligent  workers,  and  created  a  party  machinery  which  exists 
to  the  present  day,  although  under  a  different  name ;  but  it  served 
to  present  in  concrete  form  the  principles  for  which  the  league 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  355 

Stood.    As  Mr.  George  Burnham,  Jr.,  pointed  out  in  his  address 
at  the  tenth  anniversary  of  the  founding  of  the  league : 

While  I  believe  that  the  true  work  of  the  league  is  educational,  let  me 
hasten  to  add  that  I  also  think  there  is  no  better  way  of  educating  voters  than 
by  conducting  campaigns  at  the  polls,  as  it  has  done  in  the  past  and  no  doubt 
will  continue  to  do  in  the  future.  Every  time  you  place  a  worthy  candidate  on 
the  ballot  as  against  a  machine  henchman,  you  force  the  issue  of  good  govern- 
ment upon  the  attention  of  each  voter.  He  cannot  escape  it.  He  has  not 
heard  the  general  appeal  of  the  minister  in  behalf  of  political  righteousness, 
because  he  does  not  go  to  church ;  he  has  not  read  the  warnings  of  the  press, 
because  he  seldom  looks  at  the  editorial  page;  he  has  not  read  your  specific 
campaign  circular;  but  he  must  read  his  ballot;  and  the  fact  that  he  has  a 
chance  to  vote  for  worthy  candidates,  as  against  unworthy  ones,  is  placed 
before  him  at  the  critical  moment. 

The  aims  and  purposes  of  the  league  were  always  primarily 
educational.  It  sought  in  every  possible  way  to  bring  home  to  the 
people  of  Philadelphia  the  gravity  and  importance  of  the  muni- 
cipal problem  as  it  affected  them ;  the  necessity  for  personal  effort, 
if  it  was  to  be  solved,  and  solved  in  the  interests  of  the  largest 
number.  It  sought  at  all  times  to  enforce  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples for  which  it  stood ;  it  did  this  not  only  by  the  printed  page, 
of  which  it  circulated  many  hundreds  of  thousands;  not  only  by 
the  word  of  mouth,  but  in  every  other  feasible  and  honorable  way. 
It  had  numerous  meetings  of  a  social  character,  to  bring  men  of 
like  mind  together,  and  to  bring  into  contact  with  these  men 
others  who  would  be  influenced  by  their  personal  example  and 
influence.  It  sought  through  the  medium  of  receptions,  informal 
suppers,  and  similar  devices  to  create  and  maintain  an  esprit  de 
corps,  an  intelligent  opinion,  and  a  personal  touch,  the  benefits  of 
which  are  to  be  seen,  not  only  during  the  years  of  the  league's 
active  work  but  at  the  present  time  and  in  the  way  that  those  who 
were  brought  up  under  the  league's  influence  are  attacking  the 
present  problem. 

For  years  it  advocated  the  establishment  of  a  city  or  municipal 
club;  but  apparently  the  time  was  not  ripe.  Now  a  movement 
for  the  establishment  of  the  City  Club  has  succeeded  beyond 
expectation;  and  within  a  few  months  there  will  be  opened  in 
Philadelphia  a  clubhouse  for  municipal  workers  —  for  men  who 


356  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

are  interested  primarily  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia  and  in  its 
honest  and  efficient  administration. 

The  National  Municipal  League,  which  has  become  such  an 
active  factor  in  the  municipal  affairs  of  the  United  States,  owes 
its  existence  to  the  Philadelphia  Municipal  League  which,  in  1893, 
took  the  first  steps  toward  calling  a  national  conference  for  good 
city  government.  Hearing  that  the  City  Club  of  New  York  was 
considering  a  similar  move,  it  joined  forces  with  that  organiza- 
tion, and  planned  the  conference  which  was  held  in  Philadelphia 
in  January,  1894.  That  meeting  appointed  a  committee,  which 
reported  in  favor  of  the  organization  of  a  national  body  to  bring 
together  all  who  were  interested  in  the  solution  of  the  municipal 
problem ;  and  the  National  Municipal  League,  which  was  formally 
organized  in  May  of  that  year  in  the  city  of  New  York,  was  the 
formal  expression  and  outcome  of  that  movement.  The  fact  that 
the  secretary  of  the  Philadelphia  Municipal  League  was  made 
secretary  of  the  National  Municipal  League  served  further  to 
identify  the  local  body  with  the  national  movement,  and  to  justify 
the  claim,  so  often  made  by  members  of  the  Philadelphia  league, 
that  the  National  Municipal  League  was  one  of  the  products  of 
its  activity. 

It  may  be  asked  why,  after  a  career  of  such  persistent  activity, 
the  league  retired  from  the  field.  It  did  not  retire  until  after  it 
had  called  a  conference  for  the  organization  of  a  new  body  which 
was  to  take  up  its  work  under  a  fresh  name  and  with  fresh  blood, 
and  along  somewhat  broader  and  more  general  lines.  It  must  not 
be  overlooked  that  the  work  of  reform  in  any  particular  com- 
munity is  never  an  easy  or  a  gracious  task.  It  must  be  accom- 
plished, if  at  all,  at  the  sacrifice  of  personal  comfort  and  popu- 
larity ;  and  very  often  those  who  are  most  largely  responsible  for 
dissatisfaction  with  a  condition  of  affairs  are  those  receiving  in 
the  popular  esteem  the  least  credit  or  consideration.  During  its 
career  the  Municipal  League  adhered  with  great  consistency  and 
persistency  to  its  fundamental  principles.  While  at  times  its 
alliances  were  with  one  side  and  then  with  another,  it  always  had 
in  mind  the  education  of  public  opinion,  and  the  enforcement  and 
embodiment  of  its  principles  in  concrete  action.     Naturally,  in 


THE  MUNICIPAL  LEAGUE  OF  PHILADELPHIA  357 

pursuing  such  a  course,  it  had  to  refuse  a  great  deal  of  interested 
advice,  which  almost  invariably  resulted  in  the  estrangement  of 
those  offering  it.  As  each  year  had  its  quota  of  those  so 
estranged,  in  time  there  came  to  be  a  considerable  number  who 
felt  that  the  league  had  lost  its  usefulness,  because  it  failed  to  fol- 
low their  advice.  The  active  managers,  realizing  this  fact; 
realizing  further  that  people  are  always  attracted  by  new  names, 
and  that  there  was  a  sentiment  in  every  community,  as  old  as  the 
times  of  Aristides,  which  grew  tired  of  those  who  were  persist- 
ently teaching  a  doctrine  at  variance  with  that  held  by  a  majority 
of  the  community,  felt  that  the  great  principles  of  municipal  gov- 
ernment and  municipal  policy  for  which  the  league  had  stood 
could  best  be  served  by  the  league's  retirement  and  the  formation 
of  a  new  body. 

Events  have  abundantly  justified  the  wisdom  and  foresight  of 
this  action.  The  revolution  of  last  spring,  and  the  present  wide- 
spread and  hopeful  revolt  against  the  Philadelphia  machine,  were 
unquestionably  made  possible  by  the  action.  A  new,  vigorous 
group  of  men  has  been  brought  to  the  front  and  all  that  was  worth 
while  in  the  league  has  been  preserved  and  continued,  and  its 
influence  multiplied  many  fold;  so  that,  in  place  of  the  compara- 
tively little  band  of  devoted  workers,  we  have  the  new  men  con- 
stituting the  Committee  of  Seventy,  and  a  considerable  infusion  of 
new  men  in  the  City  Party,  plus  the  old  rank  and  file  of  the  Muni- 
cipal League  trained  to  march  steadily  on  in  the  cause  of  better 
government  and  higher  standards. 

Thus  the  work  inaugurated  by  the  Municipal  League  is  con- 
tinued and  extended,  and  its  influence  and  efficacy  assured. 

To  sum  up,  the  Municipal  League  was  a  persistent,  and  not  an 
intermittent,  factor  in  the  fight  for  good  government  in  Phila- 
delphia. As  was  said  at  its  tenth  anniversary,  it  recognized  "  that 
to  accomplish  permanent  results  it  must  adopt  as  its  guiding  policy 
*  all  at  it  and  always  at  it'." 

The  league  represented  an  organized  effort,  not  a  spasmodic 
attempt,  to  change  municipal  conditions.  With  a  nucleus  of 
workers  in  every  ward,  and  a  good  working  association  in  50  per 
cent,  of  them,  they  formed  a  wholesome  offset  to  the  strongly 


358  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

intrenched  and  highly  organized  machine.  With  no  spoils  to 
offer  to  those  who  maintained  the  ward  organizations,  it  was  able 
to  keep  those  whom  it  once  enlisted,  and  gradually  to  increase 
their  number.  Its  organized  political  work  illustrated  the  grow- 
ing force  of  the  cohesive  power  of  enlightened  public  interest. 

The  league  was  a  representative,  not  a  self-constituted,  body ; 
it  stood  for  constructive  work,  it  never  stood  for  mere  destructive 
criticism.  While  often  required  to  speak  sharply  concerning 
municipal  abuses,  it  never  contented  itself  with  mere  criticism, 
but  invariably  sought  to  suggest  and  apply  an  adequate  remedy. 
Thus  it  became  a  positive  factor  for  the  regeneration  of  Phila- 
delphia and  her  politics.  The  full  measure  of  its  usefulness  can- 
not yet  be  determined;  but  the  fact  remains  that  for  thirteen 
years  it  maintained  high  standards  of  public  service,  insisting 
upon  them  under  all  circumstances,  and  so  familiarized  the  people 
of  the  city  with  the  ideal  of  good  government  that  now,  when 
they  are  thoroughly  aroused  to  their  personal  responsibility  in  the 
matter,  they  have  but  to  apply  the  principles  which  had  been  laid 
down  and  advocated  by  the  league  under  circumstances  not  always 
fraught  with  the  greatest  encouragement. 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF 
RELIGION  1 


PROFESSOR    GEORG    SIMMEL 
Berlin 


The  ambiguity  which  surrounds  the  origin  and  nature  of 
religion  will  never  be  removed  so  long  as  we  insist  upon  approach- 
ing the  problem  as  one  for  which  a  single  word  will  be  the  "  open 
sesame."  Thus  far,  no  one  has  been  able  to  offer  a  definition 
which,  without  vagueness  and  yet  with  sufficient  comprehensive- 
ness, has  told  once  for  all  what  religion  is  in  its  essence,  in  that 
w^hich  is  common  alike  to  the  religion  of  Christians  and  South 
Sea  islanders,  to  Buddhism  and  Mexican  idolatry.  Thus  far  it 
has  not  been  distinguished,  on  the  one  hand,  from  mere  meta- 
physical speculation,  nor,  on  the  other,  from  the  credulity  which 
believes  in  "ghosts."  Its  purest  and  highest  manifestations  are 
not  yet  proof  against  comparison  with  these.  And  the  multi- 
plicity of  psychological  causes  to  which  religion  is  ascribed  corre- 
sponds to  this  indefinite  conception  as  to  its  nature.  It  matters 
not  whether  fear  or  love,  ancestor-worship  or  self -deification,  the 
moral  instincts  or  the  feeling  of  dependence,  be  regarded  as  the 
subjective  root  of  religion;  a  theory  is  only  then  entirely  errone- 
ous when  it  assumes  to  be  the  sole  explanation,  and  then  only 
correct  when  it  claims  to  point  out  merely  one  of  the  sources  of 
religion.  Hence  the  solution  of  the  problem  will  be  approached 
only  when  all  the  impulses,  ideas,  and  conditions  operating  in  this 
domain  are  inventoried,  and  that  with  the  express  determination 
that  the  significance  of  known  particular  motives  is  not  to  be 
arbitrarily  expanded  into  general  laws.  Nor  is  this  the  only 
reservation  that  must  be  made  in  an  attempt  to  determine  the 
religious  significance  of  the  phenomena  of  social  life  which  pre- 
ceded all  religion  in  the  order  of  time.  It  must  also  be  emphat- 
ically insisted  upon  that,  no  matter  how  mundanely  and  empiri- 

^  Translated  by  W.  W.  Elwang,  A.M.,  University  of  Missouri. 

359 


360  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

cally  the  origin  of  ideas  about  the  super-mundane  and  transcen- 
dental is  explained,  neither  the  subjective  emotional  value  of 
these  ideas,  nor  their  objective  value  as  matters  of  fact,  is  at  all  in 
question.  Both  of  these  values  lie  beyond  the  limits  which  our 
merely  genetic,  psychological  inquiry  aims  to  reach. 

In  attempting  to  find  the  beginnings  of  religion  in  human 
relations  which  are  in  themselves  non-religious,  we  merely  follow 
a  well-known  method.  It  has  long  been  admitted  that  science  is 
merely  a  heightening,  a  refinement,  a  completion,  of  those  means 
of  knowledge  which,  in  lower  and  dimmer  degree,  assist  us  in 
forming  our  judgments  and  experiences  in  daily,  practical  life. 
We  only  then  arrive  at  a  genetic  explanation  of  art  when  we  have 
analyzed  those  aesthetic  experiences  of  life,  in  speech,  in  the  emo- 
tions, in  business,  in  social  affairs,  which  are  not  in  themselves 
artistic.  All  high  and  pure  forms  existed  at  first  experimentally, 
as  it  were,  in  the  germ,  in  connection  with  other  forms;  but  in 
order  to  comprehend  them  in  their  highest  and  independent 
forms,  we  must  look  for  them  in  their  undeveloped  states.  Their 
significance,  psychologically,  will  depend  upon  the  determination 
of  their  proper  places  in  a  series  which  develops,  as  if  by  an 
organic  growth,  through  a  variety  of  stages,  so  that  the  new  and 
differentiated  in  each  appears  as  the  unfolding  of  a  germ  con- 
tained in  that  which  had  preceded  it.  Thus  it  may  help  us  to  an 
insight  into  the  origin  and  nature  of  religion,  if  we  can  discover 
in  all  kinds  of  non-religious  conditions  and  interests  certain  reli- 
gious momenta,  the  beginnings  of  what  later  came  to  be  religion, 
definitely  and  independently.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  religious 
feelings  and  impulses  manifest  themselves  in  religion  only; 
rather,  that  they  are  to  be  found  in  many  connections,  a  co-operat- 
ing element  in  various  situations,  whose  extreme  development 
and  differentiation  is  religion  as  an  independent  content  of  life. 
In  order,  now,  to  find  the  points  at  which,  in  the  shifting  condi- 
tions of  human  life,  the  momenta  of  religion  originated,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  digress  to  what  may  seem  to  be  entirely  foreign 
phenomena. 

It  has  long  been  known  that  custom  is  the  chief  form  of  social 
control  in  the  lower  culture  conditions.     Those  life-conditions 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  RELIGION     361 

which,  on  the  one  hand,  are  subsequently  codified  as  laws  and 
enforced  by  the  poHce  power  of  the  state,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  remitted  to  the  free  consent  of  the  cultivated  and  trained 
individual  socius,  are,  in  narrower  and  primitive  circles,  guaran- 
teed by  that  peculiar,  immediate  control  of  the  individual  by  his 
environment  which  we  call  custom.  Custom,  law,  and  the  volun- 
tary morality  of  the  individual  are  different  unifying  elements  of 
the  social  structure  which  can  carry  the  same  obligations  as  their 
content,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  have  had  them  among  different 
peoples  at  different  times.  Many  of  the  norms  and  practices  of 
public  life  are  supported  both  by  the  free  play  of  competing 
forces  and  by  the  control  of  the  lower  elements  by  higher  ones. 
Many  social  interests  were  at  first  protected  by  the  family  organi- 
zation, but  later,  or  in  other  places,  were  taken  under  the  care  of 
purely  voluntary  associations  or  by  the  state.  It  can,  in  general, 
be  asserted  that  the  differentiations  which  characterize  the  social 
structure  are  always  due  to  definite  ends,  causes,  and  interests; 
and  so  long  as  these  continue,  the  social  life,  and  the  forms  in 
which  it  expresses  itself,  may  be  exceedingly  diverse,  just  as, 
on  the  other  hand,  this  differentiation  may  itself  have  the  most 
varied  content.  It  seems  to  me  that  among  these  forms  which 
human  relations  assume,  and  which  may  have  the  most  diverse 
contents,  there  is  one  which  cannot  be  otherwise  described  than 
as  religious,  even  though  this  designation  of  it,  to  be  sure,  antici- 
pates the  name  of  the  complete  structure  for  its  mere  beginning 
and  conditioning.  For  the  coloring,  so  to  speak,  which  justifies 
this  description  must  not  be  a  reflection  from  already  existing 
religion;  rather,  human  contact_,  in  the  purely  psychological 
aspect  of  its  interaction,  develops  that  definite  tendency  which, 
heightened,  and  differentiated  to  independence,  is  known  as 
religion. 

We  can  safely  assume  that  many  human  relations  harbor  a 
religious  element.  The  relation  of  a  devoted  child  to  its  parent, 
of  an  enthusiastic  patriot  to  his  country,  of  the  fervent  cosmop- 
olite toward  humanity;  the  relation  of  the  laboring-man  to  his 
struggling  fellows,  or  of  the  proud  feudal  lord  to  his  class;  the 
relation  of  the  subject  to  the  ruler  under  whose  control  he  is,  and 


362  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  true  soldier  to  his  army  —  all  these  relations,  with  their 
infinite  variety  of  content,  looked  at  from  the  psychological  side, 
may  have  a  common  tone  which  can  be  described  only  as  religious. 
All  religion  contains  a  peculiar  admixture  of  unselfish  surrender 
and  fervent  desire,  of  humility  and  exaltation,  of  sensual  concrete- 
ness  and  spiritual  abstraction,  which  occasion  a  certain  degree  of 
emotional  tension,  a  specific  ardor  and  certainty  of  the  subjective 
conditions,  an  inclusion  of  the  subject  experiencing  them  in  a 
higher  order  —  an  order  which  is  at  the  same  time  felt  to  be 
something  subjective  and  personal.  This  religious  quality  is  con- 
tained, it  seems  to  me,  in  many  other  relations,  and  gives  them  a 
note  which  distinguishes  them  from  relations  based  upon  pure 
egoism,  or  pure  suggestion,  or  even  purely  moral  forces.  xA.s  a 
matter  of  course,  this  quality  is  present  with  more  or  less  strength, 
now  appearing  merely  like  a  light  overtone,  and  again  as  a  quite 
distinct  coloring.  In  many  and  important  instances  the  develop- 
ing period  of  these  relations  is  thus  characterized;  that  is  to  say, 
the  same  content  which  previously  or  at  some  subsequent  period 
was  borne  by  other  forms  of  human  relation,  assumes  a  religious 
form  in  other  periods.  All  this  is  best  illustrated  by  those  laws 
which  at  certain  times  or  places  reveal  a  theocratic  character,  are 
completely  under  religious  sanctions,  but  which,  at  other  times 
and  places,  are  guaranteed  either  by  the  state  or  by  custom.  It 
would  even  seem  as  if  the  indispensable  requirements  of  society 
frequently  emerged  from  an  entirely  undifferentiated  form  in 
which  moral,  religious,  and  juridical  sanctions  were  still  indis- 
criminately mingled,  like  the  Dharma  of  the  Hindus,  the  Themis 
of  the  Greeks,  and  the  fas  of  the  Latins,  and  that  finally,  as  his- 
torical conditions  varied,  now  one  and  now  the  other  of  these 
sanctions  developed  into  the  "  bearer  "  of  such  requirements.  In 
the  relation  of  the  individual  to  the  group  also  these  changes  can 
be  observed;  in  times  when  patriotism  is  aroused,  this  relation 
assumes  a  devotion,  a  fervor,  and  a  readiness  of  self -surrender 
which  can  be  described  only  as  religious ;  while  at  other  times  it 
is  controlled  by  conventionality  or  the  law  of  the  land.  For  us 
the  important  thing  is  that  it  is,  in  every  case,  a  question  of 
human  relations,  and  that  it  is  merely  a  change,  as  it  were,  in  the 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  RELIGION     363 

aggregate  condition  of  these  relations  when,  instead  of  purely 
conventional,  it  becomes  religious,  and  instead  of  religious,  legal, 
and  then,  in  turn,  voluntary,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  many  socially 
injurious  immoralities  first  found  a  place  in  the  criminal  code 
because  of  the  resentment  of  the  church;  or,  as  illustrated  by 
anti-Semitism,  because  a  social-economic  or  racial  relation 
between  certain  groups  within  a  group  can  be  transferred  to  the 
religious  category,  without,  however,  really  becoming  anything 
else  than  a  social  relation;  or,  as  some  suppose,  that  religious 
prostitution  was  merely  a  development  of  sexual  life  which  was 
earlier  or  elsewhere  controlled  by  pure  convention. 

In  view  of  these  examples,  a  previously  indicated  error  must 
be  more  definitely  guarded  against.  The  theory  here  set  forth  is 
not  intended  to  prove  that  certain  social  interests  and  occurrences 
were  controlled  by  an  already  independently  existing  religious 
system.  That,  certainly,  occurs  often  enough,  brings  about  com- 
binations of  the  greatest  historical  importance,  and  is  very  signif- 
icant also  in  the  examples  cited.  But  what  I  mean  is  precisely 
the  reverse  of  this,  and,  it  must  be  admitted,  of  much  less  appar- 
ent connection,  and  one  more  difficult  to  discover;  namely,  that 
in  those  social  relations  the  quality  which  we  afterward,  on 
account  of  its  analogy  with  other  existing  religiosity,  call  reli- 
ligious,  comes  into  being  spontaneously,  as  a  pure  socio-psycho- 
logical  constellation,  one  of  the  possible  relations  of  man  to  man. 
In  contrast  to  this,  religion,  as  an  independent  phenomenon,  is  a 
derivative  thing,  almost  like  the  state  in  the  Roman  and  modern 
sense,  as  an  objective  and  self-sufficient  existence,  is  secondary  in 
contrast  to  the  original  causes,  relations,  and  customs  which 
immediately  controlled  the  social  elements,  and  which  only  gradu- 
ally projected  upon  or  abrogated  to  the  state  the  conservation  and 
execution  of  their  contents.  The  entire  history  of  social  life  is 
permeated  by  this  process :  the  positively  antagonistic  motives  of 
individuals,  with  which  their  social  life  begins,  grow  up  into 
separate  and  independent  organisms.  Thus,  from  the  regulations 
for  preserving  the  group-life  there  arise,  on  the  one  hand,  the  law 
which  codifies  them,  and,  on  the  other,  the  judge  whose  business 
it  is  to  apply  them.     Thus,  from  socially  necessary  tasks,  first 


364  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

performed  with  the  co-operation  of  all,  and  according  to  the  rude 
empiricism  of  the  times,  there  develop,  on  the  one  hand,  a  tech- 
nology, as  an  ideal  system  of  knowledge  and  rules,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  laborer  as  the  differentiated  means  for  accom- 
plishing those  tasks.  In  a  similar  manner,  although  in  these  infi- 
nitely complex  affairs  the  analogy  constantly  breaks  down,  it  may 
have  happened  in  things  religious.  The  individual  in  a  group  is 
related  to  others,  or  to  all,  in  the  way  above  described ;  that  is  to 
say,  his  relations  to  them  partake  of  a  certain  degree  of  exaltation, 
devotion,  and  fervency.  From  this  there  develops  an  ideal  content, 
on  the  one  hand,  or  gods,  who  protect  those  who  sustain  these  rela- 
tions ;  who  brought  the  emotions  which  they  experience  into  being ; 
who,  by  their  very  existence,  then  bring  into  sharp  relief  —  as  an 
independent  entity,  so  to  speak  —  what  had  hitherto  only  existed 
as  a  form  of  human  relation,  and  more  or  less  blended  with  more 
actual  life-forms.  And  this  complex  of  ideas  or  phantasies  finds 
an  executive  representation  in  the  priesthood,  like  law  in  the 
person  of  the  judge,  or  learning  in  a  scholarly  class.  When  this 
identification  or  substantialization  of  religion  has  been  accom- 
plished, it,  in  turn,  has  its  effect  upon  the  direct  psychical  relations 
of  men  among  themselves,  giving  them  the  now  well-known  and 
so-called  quality  of  religiosity.  But  in  so  doing  it  merely  gives 
back  what  it  had  originally  received.  And  it  may,  perhaps,  be 
asserted  that  the  so  often  wonderful  and  abstruse  religious  ideas 
could  never  have  obtained  their  influence  upon  men  if  they  had 
not  been  the  formulae  or  embodiments  of  previously  existing  rela- 
tions for  which  consciousness  had  not  yet  found  a  more  appro- 
priate expression. 

The  intellectual  motive  underlying  this  explanation  is  a  very 
general  one,  and  may  be  expressed  as  a  comprehensive  rule,  of 
which  the  materialistic  conception  of  history  affords  a  single 
illustration.  When  materialism  derives  the  entire  content  of 
historic  life  from  economic  conditions,  and  defines  custom  and 
law,  art  and  religion,  science  and  social  progress  accordingly,  a 
part  of  a  very  comprehensive  process  is  exaggerated  into  the 
whole.  The  development  of  the  forms  and  contents  of  social 
life,  throughout  its  wide  territory  and  multiplied  phenomena,  is 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  RELIGION     365 

such  that  the  selfsame  content  finds  expression  in  many  forms, 
and  the  same  form  in  many  contents.  The  events  of  history 
arrange  themselves  as  if  they  were  controlled  by  a  tendency  to 
make  as  much  as  possible  of  every  given  sum  of  movements. 
This  is,  apparently,  the  reason  why  history  does  not  disintegrate 
into  a  collection  of  aphoristic  movements,  but  binds  together  inti- 
mately, not  only  the  synchronous,  but  the  successive.  That  any 
particular  form  of  life  —  social,  literary,  religious,  personal  — 
should  survive  its  connection  with  a  single  content,  and  also  lend 
itself  unchanged  to  a  new  one;  that  the  single  content  should 
maintain  its  essential  nature  through  a  mass  of  successive  and 
mutually  destructive  forms,  is  precisely  what  the  continuity  of 
history  will  not  permit.  On  the  contrary,  it  prevents  it,  so  that 
there  should  not  be  at  some  point  an  irrational  leap,  a  break  in 
the  connection  with  the  past.  Since,  now,  the  evolution  of  the 
race  generally  advances  from  the  sensual  and  objective  to  the 
mental  and  subjective  —  only,  it  is  true,  frequently  to  reverse  this 
order  —  there  will  often  occur,  in  economic  life,  factors  in  the 
form  of  the  abstract  and  intellectual,  the  forms  which  have  built 
up  the  economic  interests  will  intrude  themselves  into  entirely 
different  life-contents.  But  that  is  only  one  of  the  instances  in 
which  continuity  and  the  law  of  parsimony  are  found  in  history. 
When,  for  example,  the  form  of  government  exhibited  in  the  state 
is  repeated  in  the  family;  when  the  prevailing  religion  gives 
direction  and  inspiration  to  art;  when  frequent  wars  make  the 
individual  brutal  and  offensive  even  in  peace;  when  political 
divisions  influence  non-political  affairs  and  align  diverging  ten- 
dencies of  culture  according  to  party  principles;  then  these  are 
all  expressions  of  this  emphasized  character  of  all  historic  life,  of 
which  the  materialistic  theory  of  history  illuminates  only  a  single 
side.  And  it  is  this  side  precisely  which  illustrates  the  develop- 
ment with  which  we  are  here  concerned ;  forms  of  social  relations 
either  condense  or  refine  themselves  into  a  system  of  religious 
ideas,  or  add  new  elements  to  those  which  already  exist;  or, 
viewed  differently,  a  specific  emotional  content  which  arose  in 
the  form  pi  individual  interaction,  transfers  itself  in  this  rela- 
tionship into  a  transcendent  idea;    this  builds  a  new  category 


366  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

according  to  which  the  forms  or  contents  are  experienced  which 
have  their  origin  in  human  relationships.  I  shall  try  to  demon- 
strate this  general  suggestion  by  applying  it  to  a  particular  phase 
of  the  religious  life. 

The  faith  which  has  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  essential,  the 
substance,  of  religion,  is  first  a  relation  between  individuals;  for 
it  is  a  question  of  practical  faith,  which  is  by  no  means  merely  a 
lower  form  or  attenuation  of  theoretical  belief.  When  I  say, 
"  I  believe  in  God,"  the  assertion  means  something  entirely  differ- 
ent from  the  statement,  "  I  believe  in  the  existence  of  ether 
waves;"  or,  "The  moon  is  inhabited;"  or,  "Human  nature  is 
always  the  same."  It  means  not  only  that  I  accept  the  existence 
of  God,  even  though  it  be  not  fully  demonstrable,  but  it  implies 
also  a  certain  subjective  relation  to  him,  a  going  out  of  the  affec- 
tions to  him,  an  attitude  of  life;  in  all  of  which  there  is  a  peculiar 
mixture  of  faith  as  a  kind  of  method  of  knowledge  with  practical 
impulses  and  feelings.  And  now,  as  to  the  analogy  of  all  this  in 
human  socialization.  We  do  not  base  our  mutual  relations  by  any 
means  upon  what  we  conclusively  know  about  each  other.  Rather, 
our  feelings  and  suggestions  express  themselves  in  certain  repre- 
sentations which  can  be  described  only  as  matters  of  faith,  and 
which,  in  turn,  have  a  reflex  effect  upon  practical  conditions.  It 
is  a  specific  psychological  fact,  hard  to  define,  which  we  illustrate 
when  we  "believe  in  someone"  —  the  child  in  its  parents,  the 
subordinate  in  his  superior,  friend  in  friend,  the  individual  in  the 
nation,  and  the  subject  in  his  sovereign.  The  social  role  of  this 
faith  has  never  been  investigated ;  but  this  much  is  certain,  that 
without  it  society  would  disintegrate.  Obedience,  for  example,  is 
largely  based  upon  it.  In  innumeraT>le  instances  it  depends 
neither  upon  a  definite  recognition  of  law  and  force,  nor  upon 
affection,  or  suggestion,  but  upon  that  psychical  intermediate 
thing  which  we  call  faith  in  a  person  or  a  group  of  persons.  It 
has  often  been  remarked  that  it  is  an  incomprehensible  thing  that 
individuals,  and  entire  classes,  allow  themselves  to  be  oppressed 
and  exploited,  even  though  they  possess  ample  power  to  secure 
immunity.  But  this  is  precisely  the  result  of  an  easy-going, 
uncritical  faith  in  the  power,  value,  superiority,  and  goodness  of 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  RELIGION     367 

those  in  authority  —  a  faith  which  is  by  no  means  an  uncertain, 
theoretical  assumption,  but  a  unique  thing-,  compounded  of  knowl- 
edge, instinct,  and  feeling,  which  is  concisely  and  simply  described 
as  faith  in  them.  That,  in  the  face  of  reasonable  proof  to  the 
contrary,  we  still  can  retain  our  faith  in  an  individual  is  one  of 
the  strongest  of  the  ties  that  bind  society.  This  faith,  now,  is  of 
a  most  positive  religious  character.  I  do  not  mean  that  the  reli- 
gion was  first,  and  that  the  sociological  relations  borrowed  their 
attribute  from  it.  I  believe,  rather,  that  the  sociological  signifi- 
cance arises  without  any  regard  for  the  religious  data  at  all  as  a 
purely  inter-individual,  psychological  relation,  which  later  exhibits 
itself  abstractly  in  religious  faith.  In  faith  in  a  deity  the  highest 
development  of  faith  has  become  incorporate,  so  to  speak;  has 
been  relieved  of  its  connection  with  its  social  counterpart.  Out 
of  the  subjective  faith-process  there  develops,  contrariwise,  an 
object  for  that  faith.  The  faith  in  human  relations  which  exists 
as  a  social  necessity  now  becomes  an  independent,  typical  func- 
tion of  humanity  which  spontaneously  authenticates  itself  from 
within;  just  as  it  is  no  rare  phenomenon  for  a  certain  object  to 
produce  a  certain  psychical  process  in  us,  and  afterward  for  this 
process,  having  become  independent,  to  create  a  corresponding 
object  for  itself.  Human  intercourse,  in  its  ordinary  as  well  as  in 
its  highest  content,  reveals  in  so  many  ways  the  psychological 
form  of  faith  as  its  warrant  that  the  necessity  for  "believing" 
develops  spontaneously,  and  in  so  doing  creates  objects  for  its 
justification,  much  as  the  impulses  of  love  or  veneration  can 
fasten  themselves  upon  objects  which  in  themselves  could  by  no 
means  evoke  such  sentiments,  but  whose  qualifications  for  so 
doing  are  reflected  upon  them  from  the  needs  of  the  subject,  or,  as 
looked  at  from  the  other  side,  God  as  creator  has  been  described 
as  the  product  of  the  causal  necessity  in  man.  This  last  assertion 
by  no  means  denies  that  this  conception  also  has  objective  reality; 
only  the  motive  out  of  which  it  grew  subjectively  into  an  idea  is 
in  question.  The  assumption  is  that  the  infinitely  frequent  appli- 
cation of  the  causal  idea  in  the  realm  of  its  origin,  the  empiric- 
relative,  finally  made  the  need  for  it  a  dominating  one,  so  that  it 
found  satisfaction,  which  was  really  denied  it  in  the  realm  of  the 


368  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

absolute,  in  the  idea  of  an  Absolute  Being  as  the  cause  of  the 
world.  A  similar  process  may  project  belief  beyond  the  confines 
of  its  social  origin,  develop  it  into  a  similar  organic  need,  and 
beget  for  it  the  idea  of  deity  as  an  absolute  object. 

Another  side  of  the  social  life  which  develops  into  a  corre- 
sponding one  within  the  religious  life  is  found  in  the  concept  of 
unity.  That  we  do  not  simply  accept  the  disconnected  manifold- 
ness  of  our  impressions  of  things,  but  look  for  the  connections  and 
relations  which  bind  them  into  a  unity;  yes,  that  we  everywhere 
presuppose  the  presence  of  higher  unities  and  centers  for  the 
seemingly  separate  phenomena,  in  order  that  we  may  orient  our- 
selves aright  amid  the  confusion  with  which  they  come  to  us,  is 
assuredly  one  of  the  important  characteristics  of  social  realities 
and  necessities.  Nowhere  do  we  find,  so  directly  and  appreciably, 
a  whole  made  up  of  separate  elements ;  nowhere  is  their  separation 
and  free  movement  so  energetically  controlled  by  the  center,  as  in 
the  gens,  the  family,  the  state,  in  every  purposive  organization. 
When  primitive  associations  are  so  often  found  organized  in  tens, 
it  means,  clearly,  that  the  group-relationship  is  similar  to  that  of 
the  fingers  of  the  hand  —  relative  freedom  and  independent  move- 
ment of  the  individual,  and,  at  the  same  time,  unity  of  purpose 
and  inseparableness  of  existence  from  others.  The  fact  that  all 
social  life  is  a  relationship  at  once  defines  it  as  a  unity;  for  what 
does  unity  signify  but  that  many  are  mutually  related,  and  that 
the  fate  of  each  is  felt  by  all  ?  The  fact  that  this  unity  of  society 
is  occasionally  attacked,  that  the  freedom  of  the  individual 
prompts  him  to  break  away  from  it,  and  that  it  is  not  absolutely 
true  of  the  closest  and  most  naive  relations,  like  the  unity  of  the 
constituent  parts  of  an  organism  —  all  this  is  precisely  what  must 
have  driven  it  home  to  human  consciousness  as  a  particular  form 
and  special  value  of  existence.  The  unity  of  things  and  interests 
which  first  impresses  us  in  the  social  realm  finds  its  highest  repre- 
sentation—  and  one,  as  it  were,  separated  from  all  material  con- 
siderations—  in  the  idea  of  the  divine;  most  completely,  of 
course,  in  the  monotheistic,  but  relatively  also  in  the  lower,  reli- 
gions. It  is  the  deepest  significance  of  the  God-idea  that  the 
manifoldness  and  contradictoriness  of  things  find  in  it  their  rela- 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  RELIGION     369 

tion  and  unity,  it  matters  not  whether  it  be  the  absolute  unity  of 
the  one  God,  or  the  partial  unities  of  polytheism.  Thus,  for 
example,  the  social  life  of  the  ancient  Arabians,  with  the  all- 
controlling  influence  of  its  tribal  unity,  foreshadowed  mono- 
theism; among  Semitic  peoples,  like  the  Jews,  Phoenicians,  and 
Canaanites,  the  method  of  their  social  unification  and  its  trans- 
formations was  plainly  reflected  in  the  character  of  their  gods. 
So  long  as  family  unity  was  the  controlling  form,  Baal  signified 
only  a  father,  whose  children  were  the  people.  In  proportion  as 
the  social  aggregate  included  foreign  branches  not  related  by 
blood,  he  became  a  ruler  objectively  enthroned  above.  So  soon  as 
the  social  unity  loses  the  character  of  blood-relationship,  the  reli- 
gious unity  also  loses  it,  so  that  the  latter  appears  as  the  purely 
derived  form  of  the  former.  Even  the  unification  which  rises 
superior  to  the  sex-differentiation  forms  a  particular  religious 
type.  The  psychological  obliteration  of  the  sex-contrast,  found 
so  conspicuously  in  the  social  life  of  the  Syrians,  Assyrians,  and 
Lydians,  terminated  in  the  conception  of  divinities  which  com- 
bined the  two  —  the  half-masculine  Astarte,  the  man-woman 
Sandon,  the  sun-god  Melkarth,  who  exchanges  the  sex-symbols 
with  the  moon-goddess.  It  is  not  a  question  about  the  trivial 
proposition  that  mankind  is  reflected  in  its  gods  —  a  general  truth 
which  needs  no  proof.  The  question  is,  rather,  to  find  those 
particular  human  characteristics  whose  development  and  exten- 
sion beyond  the  human  create  the  gods.  And  it  must  also  be  borne 
in  mind  that  the  gods  do  not  exist  as  the  idealization  of  individual 
characteristics,  of  the  power,  or  moral  or  immoral  characteristics, 
or  the  inclinations  and  needs  of  individuals;  but  that  it  is  the 
inter-individual  forms  of  life  which  often  give  their  content  to 
religious  ideas.  In  that  certain  phases  and  intensities  of  social 
functions  assume  their  purest,  most  abstract,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  incorporate  forms,  they  form  the  objects  of  religions,  so  that 
it  can  be  said  that  religion,  whatever  else  it  may  be,  consists  of 
forms  of  social  relationships  which,  separated  from  their  empirical 
•content,  become  independent  and  have  substances  of  their  own 
attributed  to  them. 

Two   further  considerations   will   illustrate  how   much   the 


370  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

unity  of  the  group  belongs  to  the  functions  that  have  developed 
into  religion.  The  unity  of  the  group  is  brought  about  and  con- 
served, especially  in  primitive  times,  by  the  absence  of  war  or 
competition  vi^ithin  the  group,  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  relations 
sustained  to  all  outsiders.  Now,  there  is  probably  no  other  single 
domain  in  which  this  non-competitive  form  of  existence,  this 
identity  of  aim  and  interest,  is  so  clearly  and  completely  repre- 
sented as  in  religion.  The  peaceful  character  of  the  group-life 
just  referred  to  is  only  relative.  With  the  majority  of  the  efforts 
put  forth  within  the  group  there  is  also  implied  an  attempt  to 
exclude  others  from  the  same  goal ;  to  reduce  as  much  as  possible 
the  disproportion  between  desire  and  satisfaction,  even  if  it  be  at 
some  cost  to  others;  at  least  to  find  a  criterion  for  doing  and 
enjoying  in  the  corresponding  activities  of  others.  It  is  almost 
solely  in  religion  that  the  energies  of  individuals  can  find  fullest 
development  without  coming  into  competition  with  each  other, 
because,  as  Jesus  so  beautifully  expresses  it,  there  is  room  for  all 
in  God's  house.  Although  the  goal  is  common  to  all,  it  is  pos- 
sible for  all  to  achieve  it,  not  only  without  mutual  exclusion,  but 
by  mutual  co-operation.  I  call  attention  to  the  profound  way  in 
which  the  Lord's  Supper  expresses  the  truth  that  the  same  goal  is 
for  all,  and  to  be  reached  by  the  same  means;  and  also  to  the 
feasts  which  objectify  the  union  of  those  who  are  moved  by  the 
same  religious  emotions,  from  the  rude  feasts  of  primitive  reli- 
gions, in  which  the  union  finally  degenerated  into  sexual  orgies, 
to  its  purest  expression,  the  pax  hominibus,  which  extended  far 
beyond  any  single  group.  That  absence  of  competition  which 
conditions  unity  as  the  life-form  of  the  group,  but  which  always 
reigns  only  relatively  and  partially  in  it,  has  found  absolute  and 
intensest  realization  in  the  religious  realm.  It  might  actually  be 
said  of  religion,  as  of  faith,  that  it  represents  in  substance  —  yes, 
to  a  certain  extent  consists  of  the  substantialization  of  —  that 
which,  as  form  and  function,  regulates  the  group-life.  And  this, 
in  turn,  assumes  a  personal  form  in  a  priesthood  which,  despite 
its  historic  connection  with  certain  classes,  stands,  in  its  funda- 
mental idea,  above  all  classes,  and  precisely  on  that  account  repre- 
sents the  focus  and  unity  of  the  ideal  life-content  for  all  indi- 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  RELIGION     371 

viduals.  Thus  the  celibacy  of  the  CathoHc  priesthood  frees  them 
from  every  special  relation  to  any  element  or  group  of  elements, 
and  makes  possible  a  uniform  relation  to  each;  just  as  "society" 
or  the  "  state "  stands  above  individuals  as  the  abstract  unity 
which  represents  all  their  relationships  in  itself.  And,  to  men- 
tion a  thoroughly  concrete  instance,  throughout  the  Middle  Ages 
the  church  afforded  every  benevolent  impulse  the  great  con- 
venience of  a  central  reservoir  into  which  every  benefaction  could 
flow  unchallenged.  He  who  desired  to  rid  himself  of  his  wealth 
for  the  benefit  of  others  did  not  have  to  bother  about  the  ways 
and  means,  because  there  existed  for  this  very  purpose  a  universal 
central  organ  between  the  giver  and  the  needy.  Thus  benevolence, 
a  form  of  social  relation  within  the  group,  secured,  in  the  church, 
an  organization  and  unity  above  the  individual. 

In  like  manner  the  reverse  of  this  relation,  with,  however,  the 
same  germ,  is  seen  in  the  attitude  toward  heretics.  That  which 
arrays  great  masses  in  hatred  and  moral  condemnation  against 
heretics  is  certainly  not  the  difference  in  the  dogmatic  content  of 
teaching,  which,  in  most  instances,  is  really  not  at  all  understood. 
It  is  rather  the  fact  of  the  opposition  of  the  one  against  the  many. 
The  persecution  of  heretics  and  dissenters  springs  from  the 
instinct  which  recognizes  the  necessity  for  group-unity.  Now,  it 
is  especially  significant  that  in  many  instances  of  this  kind  reli- 
gious variation  could  very  well  exist  in  conjunction  with  the  unity 
of  the  group  in  all  vital  matters.  But  in  religion  the  social 
instinct  for  unity  has  assumed  such  a  pure,  abstract,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  substantial  form  that  it  no  longer  requires  a  union 
with  real  interests;  while  non-conformity  seems  to  threaten  the 
unity  —  that  is  to  say,  the  very  life- form  —  of  the  group.  Just 
as  an  attack  upon  a  palladium  or  other  symbol  of  group-unity 
will  evoke  the  most  violent  reaction,  even  though  it  may  have  no 
direct  connection  with  it  at  all,  so  religion  is  the  purest  form  of 
unity  in  society,  raised  high  above  all  concrete  individualities. 
This  is  demonstrated  by  the  energy  with  which  every  heresy,  no 
matter  how  irrelevant,  is  still  combated. 

And,  finally,  those  internal  relations  between  the  individual 
and  the  group  which  we  characterize  as  moral  offer  such  deep 


372  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

analogies  to  the  individual's  relations  to  his  God  that  they  would 
seem  almost  to  be  nothing-  more  than  their  condensation  and  trans- 
formation. The  whole  wonderful  fulness  of  the  former  is  reflected 
in  the  many  ways  in  which  we  "sense"  the  divine.  The  compelling 
and  punitive  gods,  the  loving  God,  the  God  of  Spinoza  who  can- 
not return  our  love,  the  God  who  both  bestows  and  deprives  us  of 
the  inclination  and  ability  to  act  —  these  are  precisely  the  tokens 
by  which  the  ethical  relation  between  the  group  and  its  members 
unfolds  its  energies  and  oppositions.  I  call  attention  to  the  feeling 
of  dependence,  in  which  the  essence  of  all  religion  has  been  found. 
The  individual  feels  himself  bound  to  a  universal,  to  something 
higher,  out  of  which  he  came,  and  into  which  he  will  return,  and 
from  which  he  also  expects  assistance  and  salvation,  from  which 
he  differs  and  is  yet  identical  with  it.  All  these  emotions,  which 
meet  as  in  a  focus  in  the  idea  of  God,  can  be  traced  back  to  the 
relation  which  the  individual  sustains  to  his  species ;  on  the  one 
hand,  to  the  past  generations  which  have  supplied  him  with  the 
principal  forms  and  contents  of  his  being,  on  the  other,  to  his 
contemporaries,  who  condition  the  manner  and  extent  of  its 
development.  If  the  theory  is  correct  which  asserts  that  all 
religion  is  derived  from  ancestor- worship,  from  the  worship  and 
conciliation  of  the  immortal  soul  of  a  forbear,  especially  of  a 
hero  and  leader,  it  will  confirm  this  connection ;  for  we  are,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  dependent  upon  what  has  been  before  us,  and 
which  was  most  directly  concentrated  in  the  authority  of  the 
fathers  over  their  descendants.  The  deification  of  ancestors,  espe- 
cially of  the  ablest  and  most  successful,  is,  as  it  were,  the  most 
appropriate  expression  of  the  dependence  of  the  individual  upon 
the  previous  life  of  the  group,  even  though  consciousness  may 
reveal  other  motives  for  it.  Thus  the  humility  with  which  the 
pious  person  acknowledges  that  all  that  he  is  and  has  comes  from 
God,  and  recognizes  in  him  the  source  of  his  existence  and  ability, 
is  properly  traced  to  the  relation  of  the  individual  to  the  whole. 
For  man  is  not  absolutely  nothing  in  contrast  to  God,  but  only  a 
dust-mote ;  a  weak,  but  not  entirely  vain,  force ;  a  vessel,  but  yet 
adapted  to  its  contents.  When  a  given  idea  of  God  is,  in  essence, 
the  origin  and  at  the  same  time  the  unity  of  all  the  varieties  of 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  RELIGION     373 

being  and  willing,  of  all  the  antitheses  and  differences  especially 
of  our  subjective  life-interests,  we  can  without  more  ado  put  the 
social  totality  into  its  place;  for  it  is  from  this  totality  that  all 
those  impulses  flow  which  come  to  us  as  the  results  of  shifting 
adaptations,  all  that  multiplicity  of  relations  in  which  we  find 
ourselves,  that  development  of  the  organs  with  which  we  appre- 
hend the  different  and  almost  irreconcilable  aspects  of  the  uni- 
verse. And  yet  the  social  group  is  sufficiently  unified  to  be 
regarded  as  the  real  unifying  focus  of  these  divergent  radiations. 
Furthermore,  the  divine  authority  of  kings  is  merely  an  expres- 
sion for  the  complete  concentration  of  power  in  their  hands;  as 
soon  as  the  social  unification,  the  objectification  of  the  whole  as 
against  a  part,  has  reached  a  certain  point,  it  is  conceived  of  by 
the  individual  as  a  supra-mundane  power.  And  then,  whether 
he  still  directly  conceives  it  as  social,  or  whether  it  is  already 
clothed  with  divinity,  the  problem  arises  how  much  he,  as  an 
individual,  can  and  must  do  to  fulfil  his  destiny,  and  how  much 
that  supra-mundane  principle  will  assist  him.  The  independence 
of  the  individual  in  relation  to  that  power,  from  which  he  received 
his  independence,  and  which  conditions  its  aims  and  methods,  is 
as  much  a  question  in  this  case  as  in  the  other.  Thus  Augustine 
places  the  individual  in  a  historic  development  against  which  he 
is  as  impotent  as  he  is  against  God.  And  the  doctrine  of  syner- 
gism is  found  throughout  the  entire  history  of  the  church  condi- 
tioned by  her  internal  politics.  Just  as,  according  to  the  strict 
religious  conception,  the  individual  is  merely  a  vessel  of  the  grace 
or  wrath  of  god,  so,  according  to  the  socialistic  conception,  he  is 
a  vessel  of  the  forces  emanating  from  the  universal;  and  both 
instances  reproduce  the  same  fundamental  ethical  problem  about 
the  nature  and  the  rights  of  the  individual,  and  in  both  forms  the 
surrender  of  the  one  to  the  other  opposite  principle  frequently 
offers  the  only  satisfaction  still  possible  when  an  individuality, 
thrown  wholly  upon  its  own  resources,  no  longer  has  the  power  to 
maintain  itself. 

This  arrangement  of  religious  and  ethical-social  ideas  is  sup- 
ported by  the  fact  that  God  is  conceived  as  the  personification  of 
those  virtues  which  he  himself  demands  from  the  people.     He  is 


374  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

goodness,  justice,  patience,  etc.,  rather  than  the  possessor  of  these 
attributes;  he  is,  as  it  is  sometimes  expressed,  perfection  in  sub- 
stance; he  is  goodness  itself,  and  love  itself,  etc.  Morality,  the 
imperatives  that  control  human  conduct,  has,  so  to  speak,  become 
immutable  in  him.  As  practical  belief  is  a  relation  between  per- 
sons which  fashions  an  absolute  over  and  above  the  form  of 
relation ;  as  unity  is  a  form  of  relation  between  a  group  of  persons 
which  raises  itself  to  that  personification  of  the  unity  of  things 
in  which  the  divine  is  represented;  so  morality  contains  those 
forms  of  relation  between  man  and  man  which  the  interests  of  the 
group  has  sanctioned,  so  that  the  God  who  exhibits  the  relative 
contents  in  absolute  form,  on  the  one  hand,  represents  the  claims 
and  benefits  of  the  group,  as  against  the  individual,  and,  on  the 
other,  divests  those  ethical-social  duties  which  the  individual 
must  perform  of  their  relativity,  and  presents  them  in  himself  in 
an  absolutely  substantial  form.  The  relations  of  persons  to  each 
other,  which  have  grown  out  of  the  most  manifold  interests, 
have  been  supported  by  the  most  opposite  forces,  and  have  been 
cast  into  the  most  diverse  forms,  also  attain  a  condition  in  the 
aggregate  whose  identification  with  and  relation  to  a  Being  above 
and  beyond  them  we  call  religion  —  in  that  they  become  both 
abstract  and  concrete,  a  dual  development  which  gives  religion 
the  strength  with  which  it  again,  reflexively,  influences  those 
relations.  The  old  idea  that  God  is  the  Absolute,  while  that  which 
is  human  is  relative,  here  assumes  a  new  meaning :  it  is  the  rela- 
tions between  men  which  find  their  substantial  and  ideal  expres- 
sion in  the  idea  of  the  divine. 

If  investigations  like  this,  touching  the  fundamentals  of  being, 
are  usually  accompanied  by  the  hope  that  their  significance  should 
be  understood  sufficiently  comprehensively,  the  reverse  must  here 
be  the  case,  and  the  wish  expressed  that  the  arguments  here  set 
forth  must  not  be  permitted  to  intrude  upon  neighboring  domains, 
beyond  their  own  limited  boundaries.  They  are  not  intended  to 
describe  the  historical  course  of  the  origin  of  religion,  but  only  to 
point  out  one  of  its  many  sources,  quite  irrespective  of  the  fact 
whether  this  source,  in  conjunction  with  others,  also  from  the 
domain  of  the  non-religious,  gave  birth  to  religion,  or  whether 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  RELIGION     375 

religion  had  already  come  into  being  when  the  sources  here  dis- 
cussed added  their  quota  to  its  content  —  their  effectiveness  is  not 
dependent  upon  any  particular  historical  occasion.  It  must  also 
be  borne  in  mind  that  religion,  as  a  spiritual  experience,  is  not  a 
finished  product,  but  a  vital  process  which  each  soul  must  beget 
for  itself,  no  matter  how  stable  the  traditional  content  may  be; 
and  it  is  precisely  here  that  the  power  and  depth  of  religion  are 
found,  namely,  in  its  persistent  ability  to  draw  a  given  content  of 
religion  into  the  flow  of  the  emotions,  whose  movements  must 
constantly  renew  it,  like  the  perpetually  changing  drops  of  water 
which  beget  the  stable  picture  of  the  rainbow.  Hence  the  genetic 
explanation  of  religion  must  not  only  embrace  the  historical  origin 
of  its  tradition,  but  its  present  energies  also  which  allow  us  to 
acquire  what  has  come  down  to  us  from  the  fathers ;  so  that  in 
this  sense  there  are  really  "  origins  "  of  religion  whose  appearance 
and  effectiveness  lie  long  after  the  "  origin  "  of  religion. 

But,  more  important  even  than  to  deny  that  we  offer  here  a 
theory  of  the  historical  origin  of  religion,  is  it  to  insist  that  the 
objective  truth  of  religion  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  this 
investigation.  Even  if  we  have  succeeded  in  the  attempt  to 
understand  religion  as  a  product  of  the  subjective  conditions  of 
human  life,  we  have  not  at  all  impinged  upon  the  problem  whether 
the  objective  reality  which  lies  outside  of  human  thought  contains 
the  counterpart  and  confirmation  of  the  psychical  reality  which  we 
have  here  discussed.  Thus  the  psychology  of  cognition  seeks 
to  explain  how  the  mind  conceives  the  world  to  be  spatial,  and  of 
three  dimensions,  but  is  content  to  have  other  disciplines  under- 
take to  prove  whether  beyond  our  mental  world  there  is  a  world 
of  things  in  themselves  of  like  forms.  It  is  true,  there  may  be  a 
limit  beyond  which  the  explanation  of  subjective  facts  from 
purely  subjective  conditions  may  not  be  sufficient.  The  chain  of 
causes  may  have  to  terminate  somewhere  in  an  objective  reality. 
But  this  possibility  or  necessity  can  concern  only  him  who  has  in 
view  the  complete  elucidation  of  the  origin  and  nature  of  religion, 
but  it  does  not  affect  our  attempt  to  trace  only  a  single  one  of  the 
rays  that  are  focused  in  religion. 

Finally,  the  most  important  consideration  remains.    The  emo- 


376  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tional  value  of  religion  —  that  is  to  say,  the  most  subjective 
reflexive  eflfect  of  the  idea  of  God  —  is  entirely  independent  of  all 
assumption  about  the  manner  in  which  the  idea  originated.  We 
here  touch  upon  the  most  serious  misconception  to  which  the 
attempt  to  trace  ideal  values  historically  and  psychologically  is 
exposed.  There  are  still  many  who  feel  that  an  ideal  is  deprived 
of  its  greatest  charm,  that  the  dignity  of  an  emotion  is  degraded, 
if  its  origin  can  no  longer  be  thought  of  as  an  incomprehensible 
miracle,  a  creation  out  of  nothing  —  as  if  the  comprehension  of  its 
development  affected  the  value  of  a  thing,  as  if  lowliness  of  origin 
could  affect  the  already  achieved  loftiness  of  the  goal,  and  as  if 
the  simplicity  of  its  several  elements  could  destroy  the  importance 
of  a  product.  Such  is  the  foolish  and  confused  notion  that  the 
dignity  of  humanity  is  profaned  by  tracing  man's  origin  to  the 
lower  animals,  as  if  that  dignity  did  not  depend  upon  what  man 
really  is,  no  matter  what  his  origin.  Persons  entertaining  such 
notions  will  always  resist  the  attempt  to  understand  religion  by 
deriving  it  from  elements  not  in  themselves  religious.  But  pre- 
cisely such  persons,  who  hope  to  preserve  the  dignity  of  religion 
by  denying  its  historical-psychological  origin,  must  be  reproached 
with  weakness  of  religious  consciousness.  Their  subjective  cer- 
tainty and  emotional  depth  must  assuredly  be  of  little  moment,  if 
the  knowledge  of  their  origin  and  development  endangers  or  even 
touches  their  validity  and  worth.  For,  just  as  genuine  and  deep- 
est love  for  a  human  being  is  not  disturbed  by  subsequent  evidence 
concerning  its  causes  —  yes,  as  its  triumphant  strength  is  revealed 
by  its  survival  of  the  passing  of  those  causes  —  so  the  strength  of 
the  subjective  religious  emotion  is  revealed  only  by  the  assurance 
which  it  has  in  itself,  and  with  which  it  grounds  its  depth  and 
intensity  entirely  beyond  all  the  causes  to  which  investigation  may- 
trace  it. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO.     I 


HERBERT    E.    FLEMING 
University  of  Chicago 


I.     THE  PIONEER  PERIODICALS 

"We  shall  be  slow  to  believe  there  is  not  talent  enough  in  the  West  to 
maintain  a  character  for  a  work  of  this  kind."  —  From  the  Western  Magazine, 
Chicago,  October,  1845. 

"  Present  indications  seem  to  show  that  we  did  not  overrate  the  literary 
taste  of  the  West,  when  we  believed  the  western  people  able  and  willing  to 
support  a  magazine  of  their  own."  —  From  the  Western  Magazine,  Chicago. 
November,  1845. 

"'The  literary  interests  of  Chicago'  —  they  belong-,  do  they 
not,  in  that  important  category  where  one  discovers  the  historic 
*  snakes  of  Ireland '  ?  "  This  whimsical  question,  put  to  the  col- 
lector of  material  for  these  papers  by  a  distinguished  New  York 
publisher,  suggests  a  long-standing  estimate  of  Chicago  character. 
This  city,  the  second  in  America  and  the  metropolis  of  the  Middle 
West,  has  not  been  noted  for  traits  of  aesthetic  interest.  Ever 
since  the  days  of  its  earliest  prominence  as  a  small  market-town, 
and  through  the  quick  years  of  phenomenal  growth  into  a  great 
business  center  and  world-mart,  the  name  "Chicago"  has  been 
the  one  above  every  city  name  standing  for  materialism.  As  a 
rough  characterization,  this  has  been  accurate  enough.  And  yet, 
from  common  knowledge,  everyone  knows  that  there  have  been  in 
this  community  some  manifestations  of  the  aesthetic  interest, 
including  the  literary  interest. 

Just  exactly  what  are  the  variations  of  the  universal  literary 
interest  which  arise  in  such  a  market-metropolis?  That  is  the 
question  which  may  well  lead  to  a  detailed  search  for  more  than 
the  commonly  known  facts  concerning  this  particular  interest. 
The  term  "  interests  "  is  much  in  vogue  among  the  leading  pro- 
fessors of  general  sociology  in  America,  as  well  as  with  the 
sociologists  of  Europe.    Interests  may  be  defined  as  the  concrete, 

377 


378  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

working  expressions  of  those  constant  forces  generated  by  the 
daily  desires  of  men,  women,  and  children.  The  concept  may 
well  serve  as  the  starting-mark  for  an  endeavor  to  describe  and 
explain  the  social  process  in  whole  or  in  part.  It  leads  to  the 
selection  of  some  particular  interest.  The  one  thus  picked  out 
from  the  congeries  of  interests  that  go  to  make  up  the  life  of 
Chicago,  as  the  subject  for  the  reports  here  submitted,  is  a  sub- 
division of  the  aesthetic  interest.  The  main  query  as  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  literary  interest  in  this  commercial  city  unfolds  into 
many  subsidiary  questions.  And  since  the  idea  of  interests  con- 
notes their  interdependence  in  the  social  process  as  a  whole,  some 
of  these  questions  are  directed  at  tracing  the  relations  of  the 
literary  interest  to  the  other  interests  of  Chicago;  for  example, 
to  the  business  interests.  Half  are  inquiries  about  literary  pro- 
duction ;  the  others,  on  the  reading  done  by  all  classes  of  people 
to  satisfy  the  desire  for  the  artistic  through  literary  form  —  liter- 
ary consumption.  In  getting  answers,  the  collection  of  facts  for 
narrative  reports  on  merely  a  few  phases  shows  that  in  Chicago 
the  literary  interest  has  been  greater  in  quantity,  and  more  varied 
and  interesting  in  quality,  than  is  generally  supposed,  even  among 
the  local  litterateurs. 

Efforts  to  establish  literary  magazines  and  periodicals  in  Chi- 
cago were  begun  as  far  back  as  the  early  prairie  days.  These 
attempts  were  the  earliest  budding  of  the  creative  literary  desire 
in  this  locality ;  and  similar  undertakings  have  been  its  most  con- 
stant expression  since  then.  All  told,  at  least  306  magazines  and 
journals,  whose  generic  mark  is  an  appeal  chiefly  to  the  aesthetic 
or  artistic  sense,  have  sprung  up  in  Chicago ;  and  there  have  been 
some  fifteen  distinct  varieties.  Of  this  large  crop,  twenty-seven, 
or  9  per  cent,  of  the  total,  germinated,  lived  their  lives,  and  died 
in  the  forties  and  fifties. 

About  these  pioneer  magazines  and  journals,  as  of  those  in 
each  decadal  period,  one  may  ask  many  questions :  What  was 
the  character  of  the  typical  literary  periodicals  ?  What  were  the 
social  factors  in  their  origin?  How  go  the  stories  of  their 
struggles  for  permanence  ?  What  were  the  interrelations  between 
these  publishing  enterprises  and  other  interests  ?    Was  the  literary 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  379 

interest  always  engrafted  on  a  business  interest?  What  were 
the  causes  for  the  brevity  of  duration  and  early  death  of  these 
periodicals? 

In  reply,  a  half-dozen  dusty  files,  to  be  found  in  the  library  of 
the  Chicago  Historical  Society,  will  tell  an  interesting  story.  It 
is  often  said  that  Chicago  is  the  graveyard  of  literary  magazines. 
And  it  is  true  that  in  the  vaults  of  the  Historical  Society  library, 
the  Public  Library,  the  Newberry  Library,  and  other  institutions 
of  Chicago,  the  remains  of  fifty-five  such  literary  creations  lie 
buried,  the  relics  filed  for  all  the  periods.  In  gathering  data  on 
the  magazines  of  the  later  periods,  thirty-three  men  and  women 
who  were  connected,  as  publishers,  editors,  or  contributors,  with 
forty-three  Chicago  literary  periodicals,  have  been  interviewed. 

Only  three  living  witnesses  of  periodical  events  in  the  pioneer 
times  could  be  found ;  and  two  of  these  were  merely  newsboys  in 
those  days.  General  James  Grant  Wilson,  of  New  York  city,  is 
the  only  surviving  literary  man  who  was  among  the  editors 
directing  campaigns  for  the  periodic  publication  of  literary  efforts 
in  the  Chicago  field  before  the  Civil  War.  From  his  present  liter- 
ary headquarters,  General  Wilson  sent  on  illuminating  recollec- 
tions of  these  undertakings.  The  histories  of  Chicago  are  more 
instructive  concerning  the  literary  development  of  the  earlier 
periods  than  of  the  later,  and  they  also  furnish  side-light  on  the 
economic  and  social  conditions.  However,  they  give  no  adequate 
literary  history  of  Chicago.  Even  Rufus  Blanchard,  having 
himself,  in  1858,  undertaken  the  establishment  of  an  ambitious 
quarterly,  made  no  mention  of  literary  magazines  when  he  wrote 
a  history  of  Chicago.  It  is,  then,  to  the  old  files  that  we  turn  for 
the  story  of  the  pioneer  periodicals. 

Although  the  impulse  to  write  and  to  publish  is  a  phenomenon 
of  the  individual,  the  constant  reflection  of  environment,  both 
physical  and  spiritual,  or  social,  has  shone  in  the  literary  maga- 
zines and  papers  of  Chicago  and  "the  West."  This  was  clear 
and  simple  in  those  of  the  forties,  the  days  of  the  western  prairie 
pioneers.  In  the  magazines  of  today  it  is  clear,  but  complex. 
The  keynote  to  which  the  literary  publications  of  the  midland 
metropolis  have  been  attuned  is  westernism.    In  the  sweep  of  six 


380  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

decades  of  local,  national,  and  international  development,  the 
character  of  this  western  spirit  has  unfolded  in  various  modifica- 
tions. It  has  passed,  with  shading  emphasis,  through  western 
sectionalism  to  national  westernism  and  western  nationalism,  and 
has  come,  finally,  to  cosmopolitan  westernism  and  western  cos- 
mopolitanism. We  find  this  at  once  apparent  by  dipping  into 
these  published  records  by  periods.  Nothing  is  stamped  so  clear 
on  the  pages  of  all  the  literary  magazines  and  journals  of  Chicago, 
however,  as  the  picture  of  the  prairies  and  the  expression  of  the 
western  Zeitgeist  of  this  section  filling  those  of  the  period  prior 
to  our  nation's  Civil  War  —  those  of  the  forties  and  fifties. 

The  titles  proclaim  this  fact.  The  first  weekly  of  predomi- 
nantly literary  character  was  named,  in  response  to  the  stimulus 
of  environment,  the  Gem  of  the  Prairie.  This  paper  retained  its 
prairie  name  from  the  founding  in  1844  until  it  became  the  Sun- 
day edition  of  the  Chicago  Daily  Tribune  in  1852,  Before  it  was 
started,  the  Prairie  Farmer,  1841-1905  —  an  agricultural  journal 
which,  during  its  pioneer  stage,  was  largely  literary  in  leaning  — 
had  set  the  copy  for  titles  derived  from  the  fields  and  lands. 
Sloan's  Garden  City,  1853-54,  a  weekly,  achieved  considerable 
prominence  because  of  a  serial  story,  by  William  H.  Bushnell, 
entitled  "Prairie  Fire."  This  "tale  of  early  Illinois"  attracted 
many  subscribers,  and  was  copyrighted  in  January,  1854,  and 
reprinted  in  pamphlet  form.  Finally,  for  a  few  months  in  1856, 
D.  B.  Cooke  &  Co.,  booksellers,  published  the  Prairie  Leaf. 

The  word  "  western  "  or  the  name  "  Chicago  "  appears  in  the 
titles  of  nearly  all  the  early  periodicals  not  named  from  the 
prairies.  Only  one  in  this  period  had  a  caption  of  dictinctly  national 
significance ;  and  that  one  was  most  ephemeral.  The  first  literary 
magazine,  in  standard  magazine  form,  to  be  published  in  Chicago 
was  the  Western  Magazine  —  October,  1845,  to  September,  1846 
—  from  which  quotations  appear  in  the  headpiece  to  this  paper.  In 
later  decades  there  were  two  magazines  given  the  same  name. 
Other  early  ones  with  typical  titles  were  the  Garland  of  the  West, 
July,  1845;  the  Lady's  Western  Magazine,  1848;  the  Youth's 
Western  Banner,  1853;  and  the  Western  Garland,  published 
simultaneously  at  Chicago,  Louisville,  and  St.  Louis  for  a  short 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  381 

time  in  1856.  The  Chicago  Ariel  was  a  short-lived  sprite  of  1846. 
The  Chicago  Dollar  Weekly,  a  Hterary  journal  of  merit,  existed 
through  a  part  of  the  year  1849.  The  Chicago  Record,  1857-62, 
was  the  longest-lived  periodical  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
pioneer  season,  and  one  of  the  most  important  containing  the  city's 
name  in  its  title.  Both  the  Chicago  and  western  sentiments  were 
among  the  features,  which  —  if  we  may  quote  a  salutatory  — "  the 
Iron-willed  Press  has  forever  stamped "  upon  a  meritorious 
literary-historical  magazine  having  five  monthly  issues  in  1857. 
Its  name,  printed  in  large  letters,  was  the  Chicago  Magazine:  The 
West  as  it  Is. 

This  western  interest  the  editors  and  publishers  consciously 
avowed.  It  was  heralded  with  virility  in  many  salutatories  and 
editorial  announcements.  The  Literary  Budget,  a  journal  of 
truly  high  standard,  on  changing  from  a  monthly  to  a  weekly, 
said,  January  7,  1854: 

The  West  should  have  a  marked  and  original  literature  of  its  own. 
Writers  of  fiction  have  used  up  all  the  incidents  of  our  glorious  revolutionary 
period.  The  romantic  scenery  of  the  East,  too,  has  been  made  to  aid  in  the 
construction  of  some  of  the  best  romances  ever  written.  We  do  not  object 
to  this.  On  the  contrary,  we  rejoice  —  are  thankful  it  is  so.  But  a  new  field  is 
open  to  authorship.    We  wish  to  present  its  advantages. 

The  Great  West,  in  her  undulating  prairies,  deep-wooded  highlands, 
mighty  rivers,  and  remnants  of  aboriginal  races,  presents  topics  teeming  with 
interest  to  every  reader,  and  big  with  beautiful  scenes  for  the  artist's  eye.  The 
West  is  full  of  subject-matter  for  legend,  story,  or  history.  Sublime  scenery 
to  inspire  the  poet  is  not  wanting.  All  that  is  lacking  is  a  proper  channel. 
This  channel  we  offer.  The  Budget  claims  to  be  a  western  literary  paper, 
and  we  invite  writers  to  send  us  articles  on  western  subjects,  for  publication. 

Such  unqualified  western  sectionalism  had  its  roots  in  the 
economic  and  political  situation,  and  the  facts  regarding  the  popu- 
lation of  Chicago  and  its  environing  prairies.  In  the  late  forties 
and  early  fifties  Chicago  was  the  growing  center  of  a  more  or  less 
isolated  western  or  northwestern  empire.  Despite  the  lake  trans- 
portation, which  began  in  1835,  as  Blanchard  says,  in  his  Dis- 
covery and  Conquest  of  the  Northwest,  with  a  History  of  Chicago, 
"  up  to  the  era  of  railroads,  the  Mississippi  River  was  a  more 
important  channel  of  trade  to  the  state  of  Illinois  than  the  lakes." 


I 


382  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

It  was  not  until  1852  that  lines  of  railroad  giving  connection  with 
the  eastern  states  entered  Chicago.  For  four  years  before  that 
time  the  engine  "  Pioneer,"  brought  here  on  a  brig,  had  been 
hauling  trains  on  the  Galena  &  Chicago  Union  Railway,  which 
was  the  nucleus  of  the  Northwestern  system.  Ever  since  1837 
the  citizens  had  been  active  over  a  big  internal  improvement 
scheme  for  a  railway  system  to  cover  the  state  as  a  unit ;  and  by 
1850  a  charter  had  been  granted  the  Illinois  Central,  assuring  a 
Mississippi  Valley  system  centered  in  Chicago. 

The  population  when  the  first  magazine  was  established,  in 
1845,  numbered  12,083.  ^^  grew  rapidly  to  84,113  by  1856.  In 
the  early  part  of  this  period  the  people  composing  it  were  chiefly 
native-born,  the  adventurous  sons  of  Yankees  in  the  seaboard 
section.  When  the  foreign  immigration  set  in  heavily,  during 
the  later  forties,  the  newcomers  did  not  produce  any  marked 
effect  by  giving  a  varied,  cosmopolitan  character,  such  as  masses 
of  men  from  other  lands  have  since  contributed. 

These  men  from  the  states  near  the  eastern  seaboard  had 
brought  with  them  a  tradition  of  American  magazines  which 
dated  back  to  1741,  when  Benjamin  Franklin  had  established,  on 
English  models,  the  General  Magazine  and  Historical  Chronicle. 
But  that  recollection  was  of  magazines  that  were,  almost  neces- 
sarily, of,  by,  and  for  a  distinct  section,  many  of  them  having  had 
state  names,  such  as  the  Massachusetts  Magazine.  And  the 
magazines  which  came  from  the  East  for  Chicago  readers  in  the 
ante-Civil  War  days  were  emphatically  of  the  East.  But  even 
these  did  not  begin  to  come  regularly  to  the  West  until  1850, 
after  ten  literary  periodicals  had  already  been  attempted  in  Chi- 
cago. It  should  not  be  surprising  that  in  their  literary  isolation 
these  pioneers  should  have  undertaken  the  creation  of  their  own 
literature,  and  that  their  literary  journals  should  have  been  as 
sectional  in  spirit  as  those  they  had  known  in  their  earlier  homes. 

This  tone  in  Chicago  periodicals  was  not  changed,  but  really 
heightened,  by  the  coming  of  the  seaboard  city  magazines  which 
were  then  so  markedly  eastern  in  character.  Mr.  George  H. 
Fergus,  an  old  gentleman  who  today,  at  an  office  in  Lake  Street, 
continues  the  business  of  his  father,  Robert  Fergus,  Chicago's 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  383 

first  printer  and  the  printer  of  several  of  Chicago's  first  peri- 
odicals, talks  vividly  of  the  first  arrival  of  Harper's  New  Monthly 
Magazifie.  That  was  in  1850,  when  Harper's  was  founded. 
Getting  copies  from  W.  W.  Dannenhower,  who  two  years  later 
started  publication  of  the  Literary  Budget,  Mr.  Fergus  sold  them 
at  an  eight-cent  profit.  By  1854  the  Literary  Budget  contained 
notices  of  Putnam's  Magazine,  Graham's  Magazine,  and  Knicker- 
bocker Magazine,  which  latter,  by  its  very  name,  showed  its 
sectionalism.  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  with  its  emphasis  on  the 
Atlantic  idea,  was  not  begun  until  1857,  the  same  year  that  saw 
the  advent  of  the  Chicago  Magazine:  The  West  as  it  Is.  In  an 
article  on  "American  Periodicals,"  October  i,  1892,  the  Dial,  a 
recognized  authority,  says : 

It  is  a  little  surprising  that  the  eastern  magazines  should  so  long  have 
exemplified  the  provincial  spirit.  Until  about  twenty  years  ago  they  rarely 
took  cognizance  of  the  existence  of  any  country  or  population  west  of  the 
Alleghanies. 

In  the  founding  of  magazines  and  literary  journals  in  early 
Chicago  is  perhaps  to  be  seen  an  example  of  the  principle  "  imita- 
tion," made  so  much  of  by  the  French  sociologist,  Tarde.  And 
his  "  invention  "  and  "  adaptation  "  may  be  found  in  some  of  the 
developments  and  in  the  westernization  of  these  periodicals. 
Western  sectionalism  was  the  counterpart,  in  magazinedom,  of 
New  England  and  Knickerbocker  sectional  spirit. 

Nevertheless,  more  than  one  of  these  pro-western  publishers 
expected  an  eastern  circulation.  "  Devoted  to  western  subjects  — 
consequently  more  interesting  to  distant  readers  and  equally  so  to 
western  people"  —  this  quiet  assumption  is  quoted  from  No.  i, 
Vol.  I,  of  Sloan's  Garden  City.  It  appeared  in  1853.  By  1857 
Chicago  and  the  West  found  themselves  leaping  forward  in  such 
a  rapid  pace  of  growth  that  self-confident  boasting  became  a  char- 
acteristic of  the  city  and  section.  "  We  believe  failure  was  never 
yet  wedded  to  Chicago,"  declared  the  editor  of  the  Chicago 
Magazine:  The  West  as  it  Is,  in  his  "  Introductory,"  which 
appeared  during  March  of  that  year.  Then,  concerning  the 
breadth  of  the  field  for  circulation,  he  went  on  to  say : 


384  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

We  propose  to  fill  these  pages  with  such  matter  as  will  make  this  publica- 
tion a  Chicago-western  magazine.  We  shall  aim  to  make  it  a  vade  mecum 
between  the  East  and  the  West  —  a  go-between  carrying  to  the  men  of  the 
East  a  true  picture  of  the  West  which  will  satisfy  their  desire  for  informa- 
tion on  the  great  topics  connected  with  this  part  of  their  common  country. 
We  therefore  bespeak  for  our  work  a  place  in  the  eastern  market,  and  some 
offset  there  to  the  competition  we  must  meet  with  in  the  circulation  of  eastern 
periodicals  in  the  western  field.  The  West  will  learn  to  patronize  this 
monthly  for  the  love  of  its  own  ideas ;  the  East  will  read  it  to  get  that 
knowledge  of  us  which  they  cannot  get  from  any  other  source. 

In  the  April  number  the  publisher  said :  "  Buy  extra  copies  to 
send  east."  In  the  Augnst  number,  which  was  the  last,  there 
appeared  an  advertisement  addressed  to  "  Men  of  the  West," 
urging  them  to  purchase  copies  of  the  magazine,  and  thereby  aid 
in  establishing  a  literature  of  their  own,  and  a  monthly  magazine, 
also  of  their  own,  "  as  good  as  Harper's,  Putnam's,  or  Godey's." 

An  exclusively  western  support  was  all  that  the  periodical 
publishers  of  the  forties  and  earlier  fifties  had  sought.  The 
Gem  of  the  Prairie,  1844-52,  in  its  editorial  columns  from  time  to 
time  asked  for  "  such  support  as  it  might  receive  from  the  people 
of  the  northwestern  states  of  the  Union."  In  1851,  the  last  year 
before  its  identity  was  submerged  in  that  of  the  Tribune,  the 
editor  announced  that  for  six  years  the  periodical  had  enjoyed 
such  support.  As  a  result,  the  Gemr  of  the  Prairie  could  then  be 
regarded  as  "established  on  a  permanent  basis."  The  publisher 
of  the  Western  Magazine,  1845-46,  Chicago's  initial  venture  in 
magazine  form,  rated  the  western  demand  for  a  western  periodical 
of  that  type  as  large  enough  to  furnish  permanent  support.  Many 
subsequent  projectors  of  western  magazines  have  held  to  the  same 
belief.  The  Literary  Budget,  1852-55,  expected  western  sub- 
scribers only,  and  called  upon  "  the  friends  of  western  literature  " 
to  organize  clubs  for  co-operation  "  in  the  maintenance  of  a  good 
literary  paper  in  this  section  of  the  country." 

The  number  of  copies  in  the  Literary  Budget's  first  issue  on 
becoming  a  weekly,  January  7,  1854,  as  recorded  in  an  editorial 
announcement,  was  3,000.  This  is  the  only  figure  on  the  circu- 
lation of  ante-bellum  periodicals  that  could  be  found.  The  first 
of  the  annual  Newspaper  Directories,  which  are  the  chief  source 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  385 

of  the  statistics  compiled  for  these  reports  concerning  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  magazines  and  periodicals  of  the  later  periods,  did 
not  appear  until  1869.  The  figure  given  by  the  Budget,  however, 
undoubtedly  indicates  the  average  number  of  copies  printed  for 
the  prairie  periodicals  of  western  circulation. 

A  lack  of  businesslike  estimates,  and  an  abundance  of  over- 
optimistic  speculations  about  the  geographic  extent  of  the  market 
for  them,  have  been  constant  causes  of  death  for  literary  pub- 
lishing projects  in  Chicago.  In  general,  those  publishers  who 
have  sought  only,  or  mainly,  a  western  market  for  their  output 
have  had  a  measure  of  success.  Those  who,  like  the  editor  of  the 
Chicago  Magazine:  The  West  as  it  Is,  expected  readers  in  the 
eastern  states  eagerly  to  accept  their  literary  product,  have,  until 
recently,  been  altogether  disappointed.  They  have  found  that, 
while  the  people  of  the  states  east  of  Illinois  wish  to  know  of  the 
West,  they  want  a  literary  presentation  of  western  life  made  from 
their  own  point  of  view.  The  outlook  of  the  writers  for  the  early 
periodicals  of  Chicago  was  too  restricted. 

A  detailed  story  of  each  of  these  early  efforts,  however,  would 
show  that  the  central  motive  of  the  men  making  them  was  not 
commercial  success.  Seriously  and  earnestly  they  strove  to  create 
a  literature.  Some  even  were  so  devoted  that  it  might  truly  be 
said  they  were  the  high-priests  of  a  fetish,  the  idol  being  a  Litera- 
ture of  the  West.  Of  the  twenty-seven  literary  periodicals 
started  at  Chicago  in  the  decades  before  i860,  44  per  cent,  may  be 
classified  as  purely  literary,  while  33  per  cent,  were  of  the  literary- 
miscellany  type,  and  11  per  cent,  of  the  literature-information 
variety.  The  proprietors  were  not  publishers,  not  highly  devel- 
oped captains  in  the  industry  of  manufacturing  and  marketing 
letters.    They  were,  rather,  or  strove  to  be,  editors. 

William  Rounseville,  of  Rounseville  &  Co.,  the  founder  of 
the  first  literary  magazine  published  in  Chicago,  was  such  an 
editor.  He  literally  unfurled  the  banner  of  western  literature,  in 
the  Indian  summer  month  of  1845.  The  cover  of  his  magazine 
was  illustrated  with  two  large  trees,  an  Indian  and  his  tepee  at 
the  base  of  one,  and  a  prairie  schooner  at  the  base  of  the  other. 
A  streamer  was  strung  from  tree  to  tree.    This  streamer  bore  the 


386  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

words  Western  Magazine.  The  name  of  William  Rounseville, 
as  author,  appears  in  the  first  number  at  the  head  of  five  articles, 
including  the  first  instalment  of  a  serial  story  entitled  "  A  Pioneer 
of  the  Prairies." 

The  development  of  western  literary  talent  was  the  chief  task 
which  this  editor  undertook.  Since  his  day  editors  and  publishers 
in  Chicago  have  discovered  and  brought  out  many  writers,  though 
some  have  not  laid  so  much  emphasis  on  that  part  of  their  work. 
Mr.  Rounseville's  first  editorial  chat  with  his  public  was  headed 
"  Our  Contributors."  He  cited  the  fact  that  several  entire 
strangers  to  him  had  contributed,  as  evidence  of  the  interest  in 
literary  efforts  here.  William  H.  Bushnell,  a  journeyman  printer 
who  was  the  most  prolific  of  the  pioneer  writers,  contributed  a 
"  Legend  of  the  Upper  Mississippi,"  entitled  "  Ke-O-Sau-Que," 
and  a  poem  on  "  The  Dead  Indian."  J.  T.  Trowbridge,  another 
prairie  poet,  was  the  contributor  of  some  verses  on  "  The  Prairie 
Land."  The  number  contained  a  few  woodcuts.  The  best  of  the 
illustrations  was  a  picture  of  Starved  Rock,  accompanying  a 
legend  of  that  historic  spot. 

The  style  of  many  of  the  contributions  to  the  Western  Maga- 
zine was  crude,  though  in  some  the  literary  form  was  excellent. 
Without  doubt,  Rounseville  &  Co.  paid  little  or  nothing  for  articles 
and  stories.  Mr.  Rounseville  sold  out  after  issuing  ten  numbers, 
and  the  purchaser  suspended  publication  after  the  twelfth  num- 
ber of  the  magazine.  The  founder's  belief  that  "the  western 
people  were  able  and  willing  to  support  a  magazine  of  their  own  " 
had  not  materialized  in  cash.  Lack  of  attention  to  the  commer- 
cial side  of  the  enterprise  was  a  prime  cause  for  the  brevity  of  its 
life. 

The  name  of  Benjamin  F.  Taylor,  a  brilliant  literary  man,  is 
given  in  the  histories  of  Chicago  as  chief  editor  of  the  Lady's 
Western  Magazine.  This  periodical,  which  came  out  for  a  few 
months  in  1848,  was  in  imitation  of  several  "ladies'  magazines" 
published  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia.  Mr.  Taylor  was  a 
genuine  poet,  a  westerner  of  rare  genius.  From  the  forties  until 
after  the  great  Chicago  fire,  in  1871,  he  wrote  verses  which  first 
appeared  in  the  literary  periodicals,  and  also  the  newspapers,  of 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  387 

Chicago.  His  work  attracted  the  attention,  not  only  of  western 
readers,  but  also  of  the  literary  critics,  who  pronounced  it  to  be 
poetry  that  had  the  quality  of  real  literature.  But  Mr.  Taylor 
had  none  of  the  executive  ability  required  for  the  business  of 
editing"  and  publishing  a  periodical  of  any  kind ;  hence  the  short 
life  of  the  Lady's  Western  Magazine. 

In  contrast  with  the  direction  of  the  foregoing  magazines,  the 
strict  attention  to  business  in  the  management  of  the  Gem  of  the 
Prairie,  a  paper  devoted  to  literary  miscellany  and  information, 
stands  out  most  sharply.  Founded  before  them,  it  lived  after 
them.  It  endured  as  the  Gem  of  the  Prairie  for  nearly  eight 
years,  which  was  longer  than  any  other  early  periodical  of  pre- 
dominantly literary  turn  continued  to  exist.  "To  Please  Be 
Ours  "  was  the  motto  of  the  publishers  through  changing  owner- 
ships. The  proprietors  on  January  i,  1848,  John  E.  Wheeler  and 
Thomas  A.  Stewart,  said  editorially: 

We  mean  to,  and  we  believe  we  do,  give  the  people  who  buy  our  literary 
wares  their  money's  worth,  and  therefore  we  do  not  pay  them  so  poor  a  com- 
pliment as  to  call  them  patrons. 

Nevertheless,  they  expressed  themselves  as  "  not  satisfied  with 
mere  pecuniary  compensation,"  and  mentioned  those  "  more  subtle 
ties  connecting  with  the  World  of  the  Highest."  This  connection 
was  striven  for  in  departments  called  "  The  Muse,"  "  The  Story," 
"Miscellany,"  "Variety,"  and  "Local  Matters."  Bushnell  and 
Taylor  were  among  the  more  able  contributors.  Many  contribu- 
tions came  from  those  whose  chief  interest  in  life  evidently  was 
something  other  than  letters.  Not  a  few  stories  were  selected 
from  the  magazines  of  the  East  and  of  England.  The  depart- 
ment called  "  Miscellany"  was  typical  of  the  channels  for  literary 
flow  provided  by  all  kinds  of  newspapers  and  periodicals  in  the 
era  of  American  journalism  prior  to  that  of  specialization.  It 
contained  bits  of  prose  and  verse  culled  miscellaneously  and 
thrown  together  in  a  kind  of  literary  salad.  This  combining  of 
appeals  to  the  desire  for  aesthetic  pleasure  through  the  use  of 
stories,  poems,  and  literary  miscellany,  and  to  the  desire  for 
knowledge  through  general  information  and  local  news,  was  an 
evidence  of  business  sagacity  on  the  part  of  the  publishers. 


388  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

In  order  to  meet  a  growing  demand  for  news  alone,  in  1847 
the  proprietors  established  the  Chicago  Daily  Tribune,  as  an  off- 
shoot to  the  Gem  of  the  Prairie.  They  continued  the  Gem  of  the 
Prairie  as  a  literary  miscellany  until  1852.  By  that  time  the 
offshoot  had  become  bigger  than  the  original  trunk.  The  Gem 
was  changed  from  a  week-day  weekly  to  a  Sunday  weekly,  and  its 
name  became  the  Chicago  Sunday  Tribune.  The  idea  of  publish- 
ing a  secular  weekly  to  appear  on  Sunday  had  been  gaining 
ground,  though  slowly,  since  the  founding  of  the  Sunday  Morn- 
ing Atlas  at  New  York  in  1838.  Publishers  must  aim  to  catch 
readers  during  their  hours  of  leisure.  These  Sunday  weeklies, 
though  largely  literary,  were  one  factor  in  the  development  of 
the  Sunday  dailies  of  today  devoted  primarily  to  news.  The  first 
exclusively  Sunday  paper  to  appear  in  Chicago  came  out  in  1856. 
It  was  the  Sunday  Vacuna,  named  from  the  goddess  of  rural 
leisure.  The  first  exclusively  Sunday  paper  of  any  permanence, 
according  to  the  historian  Andreas,  came  out  in  the  spring  of 
1857.  It  was  the  Sunday  Leader,  and  had  able  men  connected 
with  it.  Among  them  were  Bushnell,  and  Andrew  Shuman  and 
Rev.  A.  C.  Barry,  who  turned  off  a  department  called  "  Whittlings 
from  the  Chimney  Comer."  But  neither  of  these  exclusively 
Sunday  papers  lasted  long.  Without  a  doubt,  the  competition  of 
the  Chicago  Sunday  Tribune  was  too  strong. 

Up  to  the  exciting  days  of  the  Civil  War,  however,  there  was 
a  strong  conviction  on  the  part  of  substantial,  church-going  citi- 
zens that  Sunday  papers  should  not  be  read.  But  with  their 
hearts  burning  for  the  success  of  the  northern  cause,  and  aching 
for  loved  sons  at  the  front,  the  first  demand  of  every  man  and 
woman,  on  Sunday  as  on  a  week  day,  was  for  news.  This  was 
supplied  and  the  habit  of  reading  news  on  Sunday  was  begun. 
It  has  grown  since  then,  and  today  the  first  appeal  of  the  Sunday 
edition  of  a  daily  paper  is  the  appeal  of  news.  Yet  in  the  supple- 
ments of  the  Chicago  Sunday  Tribune  today,  containing  stories, 
comic  pictures,  "Worker's  Magazine"  features,  and  miscellane- 
ous reading,  one  can  see  the  outgrowth  of  the  old  Gem  of  the 
Prairie.  The  development  of  those  pages  in  the  Chicago  Sunday 
Tribune  which  broadly  may  be  classed  as  literary  in  character  is 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  389 

typical  of  morning  dailies  in  Chicago  and  elsewhere.  This  type 
of  growth  has  reached  its  highest  form  of  specialization,  as  we 
shall  see  later,  in  the  "  Sunday  Magazine  "  of  the  Chicago  Record- 
Herald,  and  newspapers  of  other  cities  associated  in  its  publica- 
tion. Incidentally,  the  points  about  the  course  of  development  in 
the  Gem  of  the  Prairie  and  the  Chicago  Sunday  Tribune  show, 
in  outline,  the  history  of  the  only  periodical  of  a  literary  char- 
acter established  in  prairie  days  which  has  continued  in  any  form 
and  retained  such  character  to  the  present  time.  The  Prairie 
Farmer,  established  in  1841,  has  altogether  lost  its  literary  flavor, 
although  it  has  retained  its  name  and  identity,  and  has  become  a 
highly  specialized  paper  of  agricultural  technique. 

In  January  of  the  year  when  the  Gem  of  the  Prairie  lost  its 
original  name,  the  Literary  Budget,  which  grew  into  a  journal 
of  the  same  type,  made  its  first  appearance.  The  establishment 
of  the  Literary  Budget  gives  the  first  example  of  a  phenomenon 
which  has  frequently  appeared  in  Chicago  publishing.  This  may 
accurately  be  termed  "  engraftment."  And  "  engraf tment "  may 
be  defined  as  the  dependence  of  one  interest  upon  another  previ- 
ously established.  W.  W.  Dannenhower,  the  "  editor  and  proprie- 
tor" from  the  first  flash  to  the  snuffing  out  of  this  publication, 
was  an  old-fashioned  bookseller.  At  his  bookstore  in  Lake  Street 
he  gave  counsel  to  his  patrons  and  helped  to  set  the  literary 
fashions  for  the  commmunity.  He  established  the  Literary 
Budget  as  a  medium  in  which  to  advertise  books  and  j>eriodicals. 
For  seven  numbers  it  appeared  as  a  monthly.  It  then  grew  into. 
a  weekly  literary  journal  of  distinct  merit,  and  as  such  was  even 
more  effective  as  an  aid  in  selling  books.  And  by  the  increase  of 
book  business  the  periodical  was  helped. 

The  character  of  the  journal  as  a  literary  miscellany  is  shown 
by  the  frequent  appearance  of  noms  de  plume  —  "Paulina," 
"  Katy  Darling,"  and  "  Daisy  Poet."  It  is  said  by  the  early  his- 
torians that  the  first  music  ever  printed  from  movable  type 
appeared  in  this  paper.  Each  issue  contained  a  page  or  two  of 
printed  music.  To  accompany  some  of  this,  Benjamin  F.  Taylor, 
who  was  a  corresponding  editor,  wrote  verses.  T.  Herbert 
Whipple,  another  of  these  editors,  wrote  for  the  Literary  Budget 


390  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

an  original  "  nouvellette  "  entitled  "  Ethzelda ;  or,  Sunbeams  and 
Shadows:  A  Tale  of  the  Prairie  Land  as  it  Was,"  which  was 
afterward  published  in  covers  by  Rufus  Blanchard.  On  every 
page  the  Literary  Budget  tried  to  give  that  "  marked  and  original 
literature  of  its  own"  which  Mr.  Dannenhower  had  "dipped  his 
nib  in  ink  "  to  declare  the  West  should  have. 

After  two  years  and  a  half  of  editing,  Mr.  Dannenhower 
deserted  literature  for  politics.  In  the  summer  of  1855  he  became 
state  leader  of  the  "Native  American"  or  "Know-Nothing" 
party,  which  had  during  the  year  preceding  carried  two  eastern 
commonwealths,  and  had  shown  strength  in  the  middle  states. 
He  announced  that  the  Budget  would  "close  its  existence,"  that- 
he  would  "  launch  his  bark  "  once  more,  and  that  his  numerous 
readers  would  receive  the  Weekly  Native  Citizen.  As  a  spokes- 
man of  the  reaction  against  the  immigration  due  to  the  Irish 
famine  and  the  continental  revolutions  of  1848  and  1849,  he 
wrote  vehemently.    With  the  Budget's  last  breath,  he  said : 

We  trust  that  our  future  exertions  will  be  such  as  to  exemplify  to  the 
world  that  the  pure  fire  of  American  sentiment  is  sweeping  over  our  vast 
prairies ;    that  hereafter  America  shall  and  must  be  governed  by  Americans. 

There  was  not  a  sigh  for  the  literature  of  the  West.  We  shall  see 
how  minutely  history  repeated  itself  —  in  the  periodical  America 
four  decades  later. 

Sloan's  Garden  City,  another  literary  miscellany,  was  started 
as  a  graft,  in  the  original  sense  of  that  word.  Walter  B.  Sloan, 
the  publisher,  was  a  vender  of  patent  medicines  —  "Sloan's 
Remedies"  —  and  had  advertised  in  the  Gem  of  the  Prairie.  In 
the  first  few  numbers  of  his  own  periodical  he  printed  a  "  Sloan's 
Column,"  which  told  the  great  merits  of  "  Sloan's  Family  Oint- 
ment," "  Sloan's  Instant  Relief,"  "  Sloan's  Horse  Ointment,"  and 
"  Sloan's  Life  Syrup."  Later  Oscar  B.  Sloan,  a  son,  became 
editor.  The  patent-medicine  notices  disappeared.  The  periodical 
became  a  pro-western  literary  organ  of  genuine  merit,  having, 
however,  a  trend  toward  the  family-story  type  of  literary  appeal. 
In  1854  it  was  merged  with  the  People's  Paper  of  Boston,  which 
lived  until  1870.  But  throughout  its  last  years  it  contained  only  a 
few  advertising  notices,  the  subscription  price  of  $2  a  year  afford- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  391 

ing  sufficient  revenue.  The  history  of  this  periodical  has  interest, 
however,  chiefly  on  account  of  its  origin  in  advertising. 

The  Chicago  Magazine:  The  West  as  it  Is,  the  literary- 
historical  magazine  of  highest  tone,  expressed  the  pioneer  senti- 
ment on  advertising.    In  the  second  number,  April,  1857,  it  said: 

We  respond  to  the  wish  of  a  contemporary,  that  we  might  be  able  to  dis- 
pense with  this  avenue  of  public  patronage.  But  at  present  the  law  of  neces- 
sity must  overrule  the  law  of  taste. 

As  in  the  other  early  periodicals,  the  only  advertisements  in  this 
magazine  were  those  of  local  firms,  including  a  "  Business  Direc- 
tory," and  those  of  the  railroads.  The  well-deserved  price  of  this 
magazine  was  25  cents  a  copy.  And  the  circulation  was  "  all  that 
the  publishers  asked." 

The  publishers  looked  for  another  source  of  revenue  in  their 
illustrations.  The  magazine  was  profusely  and  beautifully  illus- 
trated. The  cuts,  portraits,  and  pictures  of  buildings  and  towns 
were  made  from  daguerreotypes.  In  presenting  their  "true  pic- 
ture of  the  West,"  the  proprietors  considered  it  their  first  duty 
"to  daguerreotype"  the  towns  and  the  leading  citizens.  This 
was  done  at  great  expense.  But  in  their  second  number  the  pub- 
lishers complained  that  no  pecuniary  aid  had  been  received  from 
that  class  of  citizens  whom  they  had  undertaken  to  daguerreotype 
—  the  long-resident,  wealthy  and  prominent  men.  They  also 
expressed  disappointment  because  the  towns  written  up  were  slow 
to  respond.  It  was  almost  a  sacrifice  of  the  dignity  of  this  fine 
magazine  thus  to  expect  revenue  from  articles  bordering  close 
upon  that  species  known  among  publishers  as  "write-ups." 
Write-up  schemes,  some  of  them  really  hold-up  schemes,  have 
caused  the  disrepute,  decline,  and  death  of  not  a  few  publishing 
ventures  in  Chicago,  as  elsewhere.  The  proprietors  of  the  Chi- 
cago Magazine:  The  West  as  it  Is,  however,  did  not  solicit  pay- 
ments for  its  excellent  biographical  and  historical  sketches  in 
advance.  They  merely  voiced  disappointment  that  the  publication 
of  such  articles  had  not  met  with  recognition  in  the  form  of  the 
cash  the  magazine  so  much  needed. 

This  magazine  was  founded  by  and  published  for  the 
Mechanics'  Institute.    It  was  engrafted  on  a  culture  agency.    The 


392  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Mechanics'  Institute  was  an  organization  for  night  study,  which 
brought  lyceum  lecturers  to  the  city  and  estabhshed  a  Hbrary. 
One  object  in  founding  the  magazine  was  to  secure  exchanges  for 
this  library  gratis.  The  serious  money  panic  of  1857  in  Chicago 
embarrassed  the  institute,  and  further  hurt  the  magazine's  circu- 
lation. In  John  Gager  &  Co.,  publishers  of  maps,  the  magazine 
had  able  business  managers.  Zebina  Eastman,  the  editor,  was  a 
distinguished  lawyer  as  well  as  writer.  But  he  was  a  prominent 
abolitionist;  and  his  interest  in  political  affairs  may  have  taken 
some  energy  from  his  literary  efforts. 

An  outside  passage  on  "  the  world's  literary  omnibus  "  was  all 
they  asked  in  March.  In  April  they  announced  that  the  magazine 
had  conquered  for  itself  a  place  in  the  literary  omnibus.  The  May 
and  June  numbers  were  late  in  coming  out.  The  July  number 
was  omitted.  The  August  number  was  the  fifth  and  last. 
Andreas,  the  historian  of  Chicago,  says  the  failure  was  a  great 
loss  to  the  literary  interests  of  the  city. 

The  last  of  the  prairie-day  periodicals  were  brought  out  under 
the  editorship  of  James  Grant  Wilson,  then  a  young  pioneer  mak- 
ing his  literary  debut  at  Chicago;  now,  in  1905,  with  more  than 
three-score  years  and  ten  to  his  credit,  a  conspicuous  figure  in  the 
Authors'  Club,  Century  Association,  and  other  circles  of  literary 
men  at  New  York.  He  was  the  editor  of  two  literary  periodicals 
which  closed  the  pioneer  period.  With  a  literary  bent  inherited 
from  his  father,  a  poet-publisher,  and  an  educational  equipment 
secured  at  College  Hill,  Poughkeepsie,  Mr.  Wilson  took  Horace 
Greeley's  advice  to  young  men,  and  came  west  in  1857.  Andreas 
in  his  History  of  Chicago,  1884,  says,  on  p.  411  of  Vol.  I :  '*  In 
March,  1857,  James  Grant  Wilson,  editor  (Carney  and  Wilson, 
publishers),  began  the  publication  of  a  monthly  magazine  desig- 
nated the  Chicago  Examiner,  devoted  to  literature,  general  and 
church  matters."  In  a  letter  written  October  9,  1905,  Mr.  Wilson 
informs  us  that  this  is  an  error,  saying:  "The  title  Chicagp 
Examiner  is  new  to  me,  and  I  think  no  paper  or  periodical  could 
have  appeared  at  that  period  without  my  knowledge." 

In  April,  1857,  however,  Mr.  Wilson,  as  sole  editor  and  pro- 
prietor, founded  a  rather  enduring  journal,  the  Chicago  Record. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  393 

In  an  introductory  editorial  salutation  he  called  attention  to  the 
springtime  advent  of  the  birds,  and  asked  for  this  journal  a  wel- 
come like  that  given  to  the  April  songsters.  With  artistic  Old 
English  lettering  in  its  title,  the  Chicago  Record  was  consecrated 
to  literature  and  the  arts,  and,  although  conducted  by  a  layman, 
was  also  "  devoted  to  the  church."  It  was  an  example  of  engraft- 
ing, the  literary  interest  being  made  dependent  on  the  interests  of 
the  Chicago  diocese  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  church.  It  may 
perhaps  be  significant  that,  along  with  the  advertising  notices  of 
books  and  reading  which  it  contained,  there  were  advertisements 
of  stained-glass  windows.  The  contents  of  the  Record's  neatly 
printed  pages  were,  however,  distinctly  literary  in  character,  and 
of  excellent  quality,  having  a  polish  which  the  news  of  the  Epis- 
copal church  only  helped  to  emphasize,  as  one  can  readily  see  on 
looking  at  the  file  which  the  founder  presented  to  the  Chicago 
Historical  Society.  The  articles  were  written  in  pleasing  essay 
style.  The  editor  himself  contributed  "  Wanderings  in  Europe," 
narrative  accounts  of  experiences  in  the  summer  of  1855. 
Another  series  of  papers  told  of  "  Painters  and  Their  Works"  in 
a  manner  that  was  interesting,  although  the  journal  had  no  illus- 
trations. Poetry  and  "miscellanea"  were  interspersed.  Among 
the  poems  "  Written  for  the  Record  "  were  several  by  Benjamin  F, 
Taylor;  and  of  those  evidently  reprinted  were  many  from  the 
pen  of  William  Cullen  Bryant.  All  of  the  literary  periodicals  of 
the  pioneer  period,  excepting  the  Chicago  Magazine:  The  West 
as  it  Is,  which  was  undertaken  contemporaneously  with  Mr.  Wil- 
son's first  effort  in  March,  1857,  had  already  died,  or  else  lost 
their  character  and  identity,  by  the  time  of  his  arrival.  There- 
fore, General  Wilson  is  under  the  impression  that  the  Chicago 
Record  "  was  the  first  literary  periodical  to  appear  in  Chicago." 

While  still  bringing  out  the  Chicago  Record,  Mr.  Wilson 
became  the  editor  of  the  very  best  magazine  among  those  which 
have  left  merely  first-number  mementoes  in  the  library  of  the 
Chicago  Historical  Society.  This  was  the  Northwestern  Quar- 
terly Magazine,  a  volume  of  104  pages  in  thick  paper  cover, 
which  was  published  by  Rufus  Blanchard,  the  cartographer  and 
historian  whose  death  occurred  in  1904.     It  was  a  heavy  maga- 


394  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

zine  of  the  North  American  Review  type,  the  most  ambitious  of 
the  kind  ever  attempted  in  Chicago,  and  quite  pretentious  for  so 
early  a  date  as  October,  1858.  Mr.  Blanchard,  in  a  conservative 
announcement  on  the  last  page,  said : 

On  the  issue  of  the  pioneer  number  of  this  magazine  the  publisher  would 
beg  leave  to  state  that  he  is  as  well  aware  that  no  high  pretensions  can  sustain 
a  feeble  attempt,  as  that  a  worthy  effort  would  be  successful  without  them. 
The  Northwestern  Quarterly  is  now  before  the  tribunal  of  public  opinion  to 
stand  or  fall  as  its  merits  shall  determine. 

In  the  course  of  telling  what  would  be  the  aims  of  the  magazine, 
he  said  "  the  broad  fields  of  literature  "  were  to  be  traversed,  and 
"  the  progress  of  fine  arts  to  be  traced." 

The  contributions  which  had  been  selected  by  his  editor  were 
printed  without  authors'  signatures  attached,  but  were  of  high 
character  both  as  to  critical  insight  and  literary  style.  Typical 
articles  in  the  number  bore  the  following  titles:  "The  North- 
west," "  Padilla,"  "  A  Trick  of  Fortune,"  "  The  Home  of  Robert 
Burns,"  "The  Broken  Pitcher,"  "About  Painters  and  Their 
Works,"  "  Puns  and  Punsters,"  and  "  The  Atlantic  Telegraph." 
The  "  Literary  Notices  "  contained  a  review  of  Titcomh's  Letters 
to  Young  People.  Three  local  book  stores,  including  "  the  largest 
book-house  in  the  Northwest,"  were  represented  by  full-page 
advertisements  of  a  character  in  keeping  with  the  literary  merit 
of  the  periodical,  for  which  the  booksellers  thus  signified  their 
approval.  General  Wilson  cherishes  many  recollections  of  the 
Northwestern  Quarterly.  Being  president  of  the  Biographical 
Society  in  New  York,  and  the  author  of  various  works  on 
memorabilia,  historical  recollections  are  his  great  delight. 
Among  reminiscences  concerning  the  Northwestern  Quarterly 
Magazine,  the  most  pleasing,  told  in  his  own  words,  is  as  follows : 

Both  Washington  Irving  and  James  K.  Paulding,  and  also  William 
Cullen  Bryant,  in  letters  to  the  editor,  commended  it,  Paulding  saying  it  was 
"  the  best  first  number  of  any  magazine  ever  published  in  this  country." 

But  although  Mr.  Wilson  had  the  material  for  a  second  number 
in  proof,  it  never  was  published.  And  this  was  not  because  either 
the  "high  pretensions"  mentioned  by  the  publisher  or  contribu- 
tions of  genuine  merit  were  lacking.     Mr.  Blancliard  was  over- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  395 

taken  by  financial  troubles  in  his  chief  business  of  map-publishing'; 
so  the  magazine  was  brought  to  a  sudden  end,  and  sent  to  the 
oblivion  of  ephemeral  publications. 

Mr.  Wilson,  however,  continued  the  editing  and  publishing  of 
the  Chicago  Record  each  month.  This  journal  lived,  under  his 
fostering  care,  for  five  full  years,  until  March,  1862,  when  it  was 
purchased  by  a  clergyman,  through  whose  literary  ministrations 
it  lasted  only  a  brief  period  longer.  In  "A  Word  at  Parting" 
Mr.  Wilson  said  of  the  Chicago  Record: 

It  was  the  pioneer  paper  of  its  character  in  the  Northwest,  and  various 
were  the  expressions  in  regard  to  its  success : 

"  Some  said,  Print  it,  others  said,  Not  so ; 
Some  said,  It  might  do  good;   others  said.  No." 
It  has  been  a  success  —  we  humbly  trust  it  has   done  some  good.     Other 
demands  upon  our  time  compel  us  to  relinquish,  most  reluctantly,  a  post  that 
we  have  endeavored  to  fill  to  the  best  of  our  ability. 

The  other  demands,  mentioned  but  not  described  in  this  edi- 
torial valedictory,  were  those  felt  by  all  men  at  the  time  in 
response  to  the  nation's  call  for  volunteers.  Mr.  Wilson  quite 
literally  left  the  pen  for  the  sword.  He  entered  the  Union  army 
as  a  major  in  the  Fifteenth  Illinois  Cavalry,  served  in  the  Vicks- 
burgh  campaign,  and  resigned  as  a  brigadier-general  in  1865. 
While  in  the  war,  General  Wilson  absorbed  the  material  for  his 
printed  addresses  on  Lincoln  and  Grant,  and  was  led  on  into  the 
literary  work  which  he  has  since  done  continuously  in  New  York, 
his  last  book,  Thackeray  in  the  United  States,  having  come  out  in 
1903.  But  it  was  the  war  which  ended  his  training-school  days 
in  letters  at  periodical  editing  and  publishing  in  pioneer  Chicago. 

The  war  put  a  temporary  stop  to  the  founding  of  literary 
periodicals.  As  we  have  already  seen,  at  least  one  publication  of 
literary  interest  was  begun  in  each  year  after  1841  until  1858. 
And  since  the  war,  new  ones  have  sprung  up  every  year.  But 
between  1858  and  the  end  of  the  war  in  1865,  only  one  periodical 
of  literary  character  was  attempted  in  Chicago.  Even  that  one 
was  first  announced  in  a  prospectus  issued  at  Washington,  D.  C, 
and  it  proved  to  be  a  direct  engraftment  on  the  national  interest 
in  the  war.    This  unique  bit  of  war-time  literary  effort  bore  as  its 


30  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

name  the  words  National  Banner.  No.  i  of  Vol.  I,  having  a 
Chicago  imprint,  appeared  in  May,  1862;  the  last  number  issued 
at  Chicago  came  out  in  December  of  that  year;  and  then  the 
headquarters  were  again  located  in  its  place  of  origin  at  the 
national  capital. 

The  National  Banner  was  a  sixteen-page  journal  "devoted 
to  art,  literature,  music,  general  intelligence,  and  the  country." 
The  objects  of  the  venture,  as  framed  more  fully  by  Miss  Delphine 
P.  Baker,  the  proprietor,  and  proclaimed  through  a  standing 
announcement,  were  in  part,  as  follows: 

First,  to  create  a  patriotic  fund  for  the  relief  of  disabled  soldiers  and  their 
families;  second,  to  diffuse  a  high-toned  moral  literature  throughout  the  land; 
and,  third,  to  bind  with  the  golden  chain  of  love  all  hearts  together  in  one 
grand,  glorious  national  cause. 

The  National  Banner  held  out  a  novel  inducement  to  prospective 
subscribers  in  the  form  of  a  promise  that  a  good  part  of  their 
payments  would  be  turned  over  directly  to  "the  patriotic  fund." 
Still,  the  dominant  interest  aroused  by  the  contents  of  the  peri- 
odical was  of  a  literary  nature.  A  leading  feature  from  month 
to  month  was  a  continued  story  entitled  "  Olula :  A  Romance  of 
the  West."  Among  the  contributors  mentioned,  in  announce- 
ments frequently  made,  were  George  D.  Prentice,  Benjamin  F. 
Taylor,  James  Grant  Wilson,  Horace  Greeley,  James  W.  Shea- 
han,  and  William  Mathews.  Although  sounding  the  new  national 
note,  the  periodical  paraded  its  contributions  from  "the  most 
eminent  northwestern  clergymen,"  and  paid  special  attention  to 
literary  efforts  designed  for  the  western  section  of  the  country. 

II.     PERIODICAL  LITERATURE  FOLLOWING  THE  WAR 

"Born  of  the  prairie  and  the  wave  —  the  blue  sea  and  the  green  — 
A  city  of  the  Occident,  Chicago  lay  between. 

"  I  hear  the  tramp  of  multitudes  who  said  the  map  was  wrong  — 
They  drew  the  net  of  longitude  and  brought  it  right  along, 
And  swung  a  great  meridian  line  across  the  Foundling's  breast, 
And  the  city  of  the  Occident  was  neither  East  nor  West." 

— Benj.  F.  Taylor,  in  the  Lakeside  Monthly,  October,  1873. 

The  effect  of  the  Civil  War  in  lessening  sectional  antagonism 
throughout  the  North,  especially  the  sectionalism  of  West  versus 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  397 

East,  was  reflected  in  the  literary  periodicals  of  Chicago.  This 
impulse  toward  the  national  standpoint  showed  itself  in  the 
magazines  and  journals  undertaken  in  the  period  between  1865 
and  the  great  fire  of  1871.  There  was  also  the  influence  of  an 
intensified  local  spirit.  Chicago  was  growing  like  an  adolescent 
giant.  The  population  had  increased  from  a  little  more  than 
100,000  in  i860  to  over  200,000  in  1866,  and  by  1870  it  was 
more  than  300,000.  This  growth  was  matched  by  a  buoyant 
movement  in  commerce  and  industry.  A  flood  of  energy  which 
had  been  diverted  to  the  war  was  directed  anew  to  these  channels. 
The  name  "  Chicago  "  appeared  on  thirteen  periodicals  of  literary 
appeal  in  the  late  sixties  and  early  seventies.  The  Chicagoan,  a 
literary  weekly  coming  out  on  Saturdays  in  the  years  1868  and 
1869,  was  one  of  the  best  of  these.  But  in  tracing  development, 
the  beginning  of  a  tendency  toward  nationalization  is  more  impor- 
tant. It  is  to  be  found  in  the  magazines  that  were  published  east 
as  well  as  west. 

The  establishment  of  agencies  for  distributing  periodicals  and 
newspapers  aided  in  widening  their  scope.  Mr.  John  R.  Walsh 
founded  the  Western  News  Co.  in  1866.  This  machine  for  Middle 
West  distribution  of  periodic  publications  was  built  upon  the 
growing  web  of  railway  lines  centered  in  Chicago.  The  Western 
News  Co.  became  an  organic  part  of  the  American  News  Co., 
which  had  been  established  in  New  York  ten  years  earlier.  Like 
every  branch  agency  at  a  subcenter,  the  Western  News  Co. 
proved  a  great  aid  to  the  magazines  of  New  York  in  securing 
national  circulation.  Mr.  Walsh  held  then,  as  he  does  today,  in 
1905,  that  there  can  be  only  one  literary  center  in  a  country.  He 
cites  the  shifting  of  literary  production  from  Edinburgh  to  Lon- 
don, in  Great  Britain's  experience,  as  evidence.  At  any  rate,  but 
few  promoters  of  western  publishing  ventures  have  had  capital 
enough  to  send  out  through  the  news  company,  for  display  at  the 
newsstands,  many  copies  which  might  be  returned  unsold.  The 
news  company  holds  back  the  collections  on  three  issues  of  a  new 
periodical  as  a  guarantee  that  the  publishers  will  fulfil  their  agree- 
ment to  take  back  copies  not  sold.  Nevertheless,  Giicago  pub- 
lishers, except  those  of  the  present  decade,  have  complained  that 


398  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  Western  News  Co.  has  not  been  an  aid  in  estabHshing  west- 
ern literary  periodicals. 

Within  the  five  years  following  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  a 
periodical  was  started  in  Chicago  which  stands  today  as  the  most 
notable  in  the  city's  literary  history.  This  was  a  monthly  maga- 
zine which,  crudely  begun  as  the  Western  Monthly,  became  the 
classic  Lakeside  Monthly.  Of  all  the  periodicals  undertaken  in 
Chicago,  the  Lakeside  Monthly  remains  the  one  most  distinctive 
in  unalloyed  literary  appeal,  the  one  most  chaste  and  finished  in 
form.    Its  history  is  rich  in  significance. 

In  its  first  number  the  Western  Monthly  announced  that  it 
was  "intended  to  be  purely  an  institution  of  the  West."  The 
western  tocsin  was  again  sounded  lustily  as  in  the  Western 
Magazine  of  prairie  days.  The  worth  of  the  magazines  of  the 
East  during  the  preceding  decades  in  affording  an  outlet  for 
eastern  writers,  and  thereby  placing  American  literature  side  by 
side  with  the  best  of  the  Old  World,  was  loudly  praised ;  but,  said 
the  announcement, 

the  West,  with  her  vast  resources,  her  intellectual  men  and  growing  genius, 
is  not  represented  by  any  magazine  whose  mission  is  to  explore  the  fields  of 
literature  and  gather  the  ripe  fruits  of  her  pioneer  talent. 

It  was  declared  that  western  writers  looked  with  an  "  unbecoming 
awe  "  upon  those  of  the  East,  and  "  feared  to  compete  with  them 
in  the  literary  arena  as  then  established."  The  fault  was  laid  at 
the  door  of  the  West  for  not  publishing  a  magazine  of  its  own. 
Hence  the  advent  of  the  Western  Monthly  and  the  concluding 
words : 

We  believe  the  proverbial  go-aheaditiveness  of  the  western  people  will  be 
demonstrated  in  literary  as  well  as  commercial  matters,  now  that  the  oppor- 
tunity is  presented. 

All  this  appeared  in  the  number  of  January,  1869. 

Not  long  before  that  time,  Mr.  Francis  Fisher  Browne,  truly 
a  pioneer  of  American  culture  then  and  today,  arrived  in  Chicago, 
coming  from  Buffalo  and  the  East,  by  steamer  on  the  lakes.  Mr. 
Browne  had  served  in  the  Civil  War  with  a  Massachusetts  regi- 
ment ;  and,  having  seen  many  men  from  many  sections  marching 
to  the  nation's  common  battlefields,  he  had  come  out  of  the  war 


THk  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  399 

with  an  enlarged  experience  and  a  broadened  point  of  view. 
As  a  boy,  he  had  learned  the  printer's  trade  in  his  father's  news- 
paper office,  thus  acquiring  knowledge  of  the  aid  that  typographic 
art  can  give  to  literary  form.  Like  many  literary  men,  he  had 
also  studied  law  —  first  in  an  office  at  Rochester,  New  York,  and 
then  at  the  University  of  Michigan.  Ever  since  his  boyhood  days 
in  the  newspaper  office  and  in  a  New  England  high  school,  he 
had,  however,  been  keenly  interested  in  letters.  After  locating  in 
Chicago,  his  tastes  again  turned  to  them.  His  alert  eye  saw 
possibilities  in  the  Western  Monthly;  and,  after  three  or  four 
numbers  had  been  published,  he  purchased  an  interest  in  the 
magazine  and  joined  the  projector  of  it,  Mr.  H.  V.  Reed,  in  its 
management.  After  a  time  Mr.  Reed  withdrew  from  the  enter- 
prise, and  Mr.  Browne  became  its  sole  director. 

The  beginning  of  Mr.  Browne's  work  in  the  management  of 
the  magazine  was  marked  by  immediate  improvement  in  its  style 
and  character.  The  typographical  dress  of  the  periodical  was 
changed,  and  its  appearance  became  at  once  more  dignified  and 
elegant.  Biographical  features  were  dropped  out,  and  its  appeal 
became  purely  literary.  The  interest  in  form  and  subject-matter 
was  not  then,  or  afterward,  given  auxiliary  strength  by  the  use 
of  illustrations.  But  the  typography  became  so  nearly  perfect 
that  the  Inland  Printer  has  declared  it  to  have  been  the  best  in  any 
Chicago  periodical  excepting  only  that  influential  journal  of 
literary  criticism,  the  Dial,  which  Mr.  Browne  himself  established 
later. 

The  change  in  the  name  of  the  periodical  was  probably  the 
most  typical  single  act  of  a  Chicago  publisher  during  the  post- 
bellum  period.  The  adjective  "western"  in  a  magazine  title 
bespoke  something  provincial,  something  narrow  and  restricted  in 
aim  and  scope.  Other  publishers  evidently  felt  this.  Besides  the 
Western  Monthly,  only  three  Chicago  literary  periodicals  started 
in  these  years  contained  the  word  "  West "  in  their  names ;  and 
they  were  journals  of  a  low  literary  order.  A  broader  and  more 
inclusive  title  was  needed  to  make  the  magazine  expressive  of  the 
spirit  of  the  times.  A  study  of  its  files  and  of  the  history  of  the 
period  suggested  the  idea  that  the  editor  had  doubtless  gone 


400  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

through  an  interesting  personal  experience  in  creating  the  new 
name  thus  called  for  by  the  social  movements  following  the 
Civil  War. 

A  call  upon  Mr.  Browne  in  the  Dial  office  at  the  Fine  Arts 
Building  was  rewarded  with  a  vivid  narration  of  this  important 
incident.  Looking  out  over  the  green  space  bordering  Michigan 
Boulevard  to  the  great  blue  lake  in  the  distance,  Mr  Browne  con- 
sented to  give  his  recollections  of  the  transforming  of  the  West- 
ern Monthly  into  the  Lakeside  Monthly.  Soon  after  his  advent 
into  the  magazine,  he  felt  the  narrowness  of  the  word  "  western," 
and  began  feeling  for  a  name  which,  while  it  might  retain  the 
flavor  of  locality,  would  first  of  all  connote  a  wide  interest  in  the 
aesthetic.  The  title  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  had  some  such  con- 
notation. Mr.  Browne  devised  a  long  list  of  possibilities,  com- 
pounding words  to  suggest  beauty  and  fertility  —  the  lake  and  the 
land.  And  one  day,  in  1870,  he  struck  off  the  word  "Lakeside" 
—  a  name  which,  perhaps  because  it  so  clearly  mirrors  the  most 
beautiful  physical  feature  of  the  Chicago  environment,  has  become 
Ji  popular  favorite  for  many  ambitious  enterprises.  For  its  first 
use  Mr.  Browne  chose  it  as  the  looked-for  title,  and  the  magazine 
became  the  Lakeside  Monthly. 

Under  its  new  name  the  magazine  made  rapid  advances  in 
influence  and  reputation,  so  that  it  became  the  nucleus  of  a  large 
publishing  and  printing  house  organized  in  1870  for  the  avowed 
purpose  of  making  Chicago  as  important  a  center  for  the  manu- 
facture of  books  and  periodicals  as  it  had  already  become  for 
their  marketing  and  distribution.  The  magazine  gave  its  name 
to  the  new  house,  the  Lakeside  Publishing  and  Printing  Co.,  for 
which  it  became  the  literary  organ.  In  November,  1870,  it 
announced  editorially  that  the  Lakeside  Monthly  would  hold  such 
a  relation  to  this  company  "as  does  Harper's  Magazine  to  the 
great  publishing  house  of  Harper  Bros,  of  New  York."  The  new 
publishing  company  was  a  successor  to  the  magazine  company 
and  the  printing  firm  of  Church,  Goodman  &  Donnelly.  It 
started  with  a  capital  stock  of  $500,000,  and  had,  besides  the 
magazine  and  other  literary  interests,  a  large  and  well-equipped 
printing-plant.     It  also  erected  the  Lakeside  Building,   which. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  401 

rebuilt,  still  stands  at  the  corner  of  Clark  and  Adams  Streets, 
materially  reminiscent  of  the  high  enterprise.  The  great  fire  of 
1 87 1  destroyed  the  new  building  and  seriously  crippled  the  busi- 
ness, so  that  book  and  magazine  publishing  in  Chicago  did  not 
then  assume  the  proportions  reasonably  promised  at  the  outset  of 
the  new  organization.  A  division  of  interests  was  made,  and 
from  that  time  on  the  sole  responsibility  of  the  magazine  rested 
with  Mr.  Browne. 

The  character  and  quality  of  the  Lakeside  became  notable, 
and  its  distinctive  literary  tone  became  pronounced,  editor  and 
contributors  seriously  striving  to  maintain  the  point  of  view  of 
the  creative  artist.  An  endeavor  was  made  to  present  the  con- 
tents in  such  form  as  to  interest  American  readers  not  only  resid- 
ing in  the  Middle  West,  but  in  all  pvarts  of  the  country,  and  also 
the  English-reading  lovers  of  beauty  residing  in  the  Old  World 
as  well.  This  outlook  was  from  a  height  which  no  previous 
periodical  in  Chicago  had  attained.  The  appeal  to  the  aesthetic 
interest  was  supplemented  with  an  appeal  to  the  interest  in  knowl- 
edge, through  the  publication  of  many  profound  articles  of  solid 
information.  A  scholarly  tone  resulted.  The  men  connected 
with  the  popular  and  sensational  magazines  today,  on  reading  the 
files  of  the  Lakeside^  are  inclined  to  ridicule  this  characteristic. 
They  call  it  didactic.  Such  didactics,  however,  served  to  empha- 
size the  fact  that  the  purely  literary  contributions  to  the  magazine 
were  measured  critically  by  a  standard  derived  from  classic 
literature. 

The  retention  of  a  decidedly  western  character  was  another 
marked  feature  of  the  Lakeside.  Mr.  Browne  tried  always  to  get 
material  that  was  indigenous,  racy  of  the  soil,  expressive  of  the 
fertility  and  virility  of  the  Mississippi  Valley.  The  fiction,  poetry, 
and  essays  in  the  files  of  the  Lakeside  show  success  in  expression 
of  the  life  of  the  Midland  West.  In  the  Far  West  the  picturesque 
freshness  of  the  mountains  inspired  a  like  use  of  local  color  in 
Bret  Harte's  Overland  Monthly,  which  was  contemporary  with 
the  Lakeside  Monthly,  as  it  in  the  Middle  West  was  with  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  in  New  England.  Most  of  the  men  and  women 
who  wrote  for  the  Lakeside  lived  in  Chicago  and  the  Middle 


402  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

West,  although  some  were  from  the  South  and  a  few  from  the 
East.  Many  of  them  were  brought  out  by  the  Lakeside,  and 
much  in  their  first  manuscripts  was  rewritten  in  Mr.  Browne's 
office.  An  article  on  "Literary  Chicago"  in  the  New  England 
Magazine  of  February,   1893,  states  the  result,  by  saying  that 

The  Lakeside  Monthly  early  took  high  rank  among  the  first-class  literary 
magazines  of  the  country,  and  elicited  the  warmest  praise,  not  only  from 
American  organs  of  critical  opinion,  but  from  such  foreign  authorities  as  the 
Saturday  Review  and  la  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes. 

The  circulation,  according  to  the  newspaper  annuals,  reached 
9,000  in  1871,  10,000  the  next  year,  and  in  1873,  14,000,  its 
maximum.  While  the  bulk  of  this  was  in  Chicago's  supporting 
market,  west  and  northwest,  a  part  was  east  of  the  Alleghanies. 

The  pages  of  the  Lakeside,  with  their  portrayal  of  mid-western 
character,  proved  to  be  one  source  of  satisfaction  for  a  widespread 
desire  to  read  the  literature  of  locality  —  a  desire  which  was  one 
effect  of  the  war  and  the  growth  of  the  nation.  Before  that  time, 
publishers  in  New  York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia  had  generally 
disregarded  western  subjects  and  western  authors.  The  few 
remaining  literary  workers  who  were  active  then  say  it  is  impos- 
sible for  the  present  generation  to  appreciate  the  indifference 
v/hich  eastern  publishers  then  felt  for  the  West.  With  the  advent 
of  the  Lakeside,  Scribne/s  Monthly,  the  forerunner  of  the  present 
Century,  began  to  give  attention  to  western  subjects,  and  to  seek 
the  work  of  western  writers.  During  the  years  of  the  Lakeside's 
growth  other  eastern  publishers  began  to  glean  in  Mid-West 
fields,  and  the  competition  among  them  for  the  virile  western 
productions,  which  has  since  become  so  keen,  was  fairly  on  by  the 
time  the  magazine  had  reached  the  zenith  of  its  career. 

Such  an  influential  position  came  only  from  years  of  patient 
perseverance  and  indomitable  energy.  Unlike  the  publishers  of 
148  literary  ventures  of  various  orders  in  Chicago  lasting  only  a 
year  or  less,  Mr.  Browne  went  into  this  undertaking  prepared  to 
stay.  Although  loving  literature  for  its  own  sake,  he  knows  well 
its  commercial  side;  that  even  the  highest  grade  of  literary  out- 
put, like  grosser  wares,  must  be  marketed  as  merchandise.  Mr. 
Browne  was  prepared  to  carry  on  his  chosen  enterprise  with  the 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  403 

highest  Hterary  ideals,  but  with  practical  business  methods  for 
reaching  the  market  made  by  those  who  appreciate  the  higher 
literature.  The  recognition  of  merit  was  sought,  and  it  was  the 
recognition  of  such  an  effort  of  merit,  as  that  which  critics  say 
today  puts  the  Atlantic  Monthly  in  a  class  by  itself.  Mr.  Browne 
evidently  felt  that  this  policy,  if  followed  out  with  patient  devo- 
tion, was  bound  to  win  in  time ;  and  it  did  win  for  the  Lakeside,  in 
spite  of  business  changes  and  ordeals  by  fire  during  years  of  work 
and  waiting.  In  October,  1870,  the  Lakeside  Monthly  had  a  fore- 
taste of  fire,  from  flames  which,  though  confined  to  its  office, 
burned  up  an  entire  issue  just  off  the  press,  and  inflicted  other 
serious  damage.  Then,  in  October,  1871,  the  great  Chicago  con- 
flagration nearly  obliterated  the  magazine,  not  only  weakening 
the  new  publishing  house  which  had  grown  out  of  it,  but  redu- 
cing the  office  furniture  and  subscription  list  to  ashes.  But  the 
spirit  of  the  Lakeside  survived.  Mr.  Browne  passed  through  all 
this  undaunted.  The  magazine,  omitting  only  the  November  and 
December  issues,  went  on  its  way.  Not,  however,  until  its  fifth 
year,  in  1873,  did  it  reach  a  self-supporting  basis.  The  revenues 
were  chiefly  from  sales  and  subscriptions  at  35  cents  per  copy  and 
$4  a  year.  The  advertising  patronage  was  small,  in  comparison 
with  that  of  the  popular  magazines  of  today.  It  came  mainly 
from  local  merchants,  since  the  general  advertising  agencies  had 
merely  been  started  in  a  small  way  by  that  time. 

Nearly  all  of  this  advertising  support  and  40  per  cent,  of  the 
circulation  fell  off  in  the  fretful  times  following  the  "Black 
Friday"  of  the  Jay  Cooke  panic  toward  the  end  of  1873.  The 
struggle  had  been  hard,  the  strain  long  and  severe,  and  when,  on 
account  of  these  general  financial  conditions,  additional  resources 
of  capital  and  energy  were  called  for,  Mr.  Browne  broke  down, 
and,  in  the  spring  of  1874,  was  ordered  away  by  his  physician. 
As  sole  proprietor  and  editor,  Mr.  Browne  had  not  specialized 
the  establishment  sufficiently.  There  was  no  one  at  hand  trained 
to  take  his  place  either  in  business  management  or  in  editorial 
direction.  At  this  time  the  publishers  of  Scribner's  Monthly 
made  a  proposal  for  consolidation,  which  was  a  unique  recognition 
of  Chicago  publishing  on  the  part  of  New  York  publishers.    But 


404  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

this  was  declined,  Mr.  Browne  deciding  that,  if  the  magazine 
must  die,  it  should  go  down  as  it  had  lived  —  the  Lakeside 
Monthly.  In  February,  1874,  it  suspended  publication  —  a 
measure  of  necessity  which  at  the  time  was  thought  to  be  only 
temporary.  But  it  proved  otherwise;  and  thus  was  closed  the 
career  of  an  enterprise  in  periodical  literature  which,  in  many 
respects,  was  the  most  important  in  the  history  of  the  literary 
interests  of  Chicago. 

A  publication  of  magazine  form,  generally  called  the  Chicago 
Magazine,  came  out  in  the  period  of  prosperity  following  the  war. 
Its  complete  name,  however,  was  the  Chicago  Magazine  of 
Fashion,  Music,  and  Home  Reading.  It  was  created  by  a  coterie 
of  fashionable  ladies.  Mrs.  M.  L.  Rayne,  who  today  contributes 
"Fun  and  Philosophy"  to  the  editorial  page  of  the  Chicago 
Record-Herald,  was  the  editor  and  leading  spirit  in  the  company. 
This  magazine  was  the  first  of  several  Chicago  periodicals 
designed  to  couple  an  interest  in  aesthetic  writing  with  the  aesthetic 
interest  in  dress.  Possibly  the  fashions  then  did  not  call  for 
tailor-made  gowns.  At  any  rate,  the  literary  style  of  the  poems, 
short  stories,  and  serials,  the  printed  trimming  for  the  substantial 
material  on  modes,  was  characterized  by  something  of  looseness. 
The  magazine  secured  a  circulation  of  3,000,  chiefly  local.  It 
first  appeared  in  1870;  numbers  in  the  file  of  the  Historical 
Society  run  to  1 872 ;  and  the  name  appears  in  newspaper  annuals 
until  1876. 

One  of  the  military  titles  used  by  boys  at  play  in  the  Civil 
War  time  was  stereotyped  on  the  cover  of  a  remarkable  journal 
of  juvenile  literature,  the  Little  Corporal.  This  little  periodical 
was  begun  in  Chicago  the  second  month  after  fighting  men  came, 
from  Appomattox,  to  their  homes  and  children.  The  Little  Cor- 
poral's slogan,  shown  in  the  files  for  1865  and  1866  at  the  His- 
torical Society's  library,  sounded  forth  as  follows :  "  Fighting 
against  Wrong,  and  for  the  Good  and  the  True  and  the  Beauti- 
ful." 

The  authors  of  the  periodical  resided  in  Evanston,  the 
suburban  center  of  culture.  Alfred  L.  Sewell,  of  the  Evanston 
Index,  was  the  publisher;  Mrs.  Emily  Huntingdon  Miller  was  the 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  405 

editor;  Miss  Frances  Willard  was  a  contributor.  The  Little 
Corporal  was  not,  however,  a  temperance  or  religious  organ. 
Nor  did  it  uphold  any  sectionalism  as  the  only  papers  for  children 
attempted  in  the  prairie  period  had  done.  There  had  been  two  of 
these,  one  in  each  decade  of  that  period.  The  first,  a  weekly 
attempted  by  Kiler  K.  Jones,  who  later  founded  the  Gem  of  the 
Prairie,  antedated  all  but  two  of  the  quasi-literary  periodicals  for 
adults  started  in  Chicago's  young  days,  being  begun  in  May, 
1843.  A  tattered  copy  of  its  last  number,  dated  July  26,  1843, 
which  is  one  of  the  Historical  Society's  curios,  contains,  besides 
the  pioneer  projector's  farewell  words  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
done  his  best  at  "  editor,  compositor,  pressman,  and  devil's  duty," 
the  original  prospectus.  Its  significant  line  is  this :  "  The  Youth's 
Gazette:  devoted  expressly  to  the  interests  of  the  youth  of  the 
West."  The  other  early  paper  for  children,  begun  at  Chicago  in 
1853,  and  lasting  only  a  short  time,  was  christened  the  Youth's 
Western  Banner.  But  in  1865  no  western  modifier  was  given  to 
the  name  of  the  Little  Corporal..  In  the  nationalizing  which 
marked  the  social  process  in  the  United  States  at  the  time,  it  was 
even  easier  to  find  common  ground  for  the  children  than  for  older 
people,  especially  when  the  ground  taken  was  the  universal  inter- 
est in  story.  The  paper,  a  monthly  in  journal  form,  was  filled 
with  secular,  juvenile  literature,  of  the  best  quality. 

The  Little  Corporal  became  permanent  by  accident.  It  was 
originally  published  for  the  United  States  Sanitary  Commission 
in  connection  with  a  fair.  But  it  proved  to  be  so  popular  and 
successful  that  it  was  continued,  enduring  for  an  entire  decade. 
It  quickly  attained  a  national  circulation,  being  the  first  periodical 
from  Chicago  to  secure  wide  attention,  and  the  first  juvenile  in  the 
country  to  be  read  by  children  everywhere.  It  was  the  forerunner 
of  St.  Nicholas,  which  magazine  was  established  at  New  York 
during  the  Little  Corporal's  sixth  year.  From  it  the  Youth's 
Companion,  though  established  long  before,  in  Boston,  made 
adaptations  which  have  promoted  the  popularity  of  that  paper. 

The  enormous  circulation  of  the  Little  Corporal  is  historic  in 
the  records  of  Chicago  publishing.  The  first  American  News- 
paper Directory,  issued  in  1869,  by  George  P.  Rowell  &  Co.,  New 


4o6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

York,  rated  it  at  80,000.  But  in  the  recollections  of  Mr.  Francis 
F.  Browne,  Mr.  John  McGovern,  and  others  who  were  among  its 
readers,  the  Little  Corporal  is  credited  with  having  reached  a  cir- 
culation of  100,000  in  its  first  or  second  year. 

This  large  circulation  was  unhappily  the  cause  of  its  decline 
and  cessation.  The  price  of  subscription  for  twelve  monthly 
numbers  was  $1,  one  of  the  first  instances  of  low  prices  in  pub- 
lishing. But  the  thousands  and  thousands  of  subscribers  added 
to  Mr.  Sewell's  lists  did  not  bring  proportionate  additions  of 
thousands  of  dollars  from  advertisements.  In  periodical  pub- 
lishing the  unit  on  which  advertising  rates  are  based  is  each  1,000 
copies  per  issue.  And  for  each  of  the  added  units  of  circulation 
the  publisher  must  get  additional  revenue  from  his  advertising 
pages,  especially  if  he  is  publishing  at  popular  prices.  Mr.  Sewell, 
with  his  long  list  of  subscribers  in  hand,  found  himself  ahead  of 
the  times.  Advertising  had  not  yet  become  extensive  and  the 
first  source  of  success  in  business.  The  local  firms  which  gave 
him  advertising  notices  would  pay  only  small  sums;  for  they 
cared  to  reach  but  a  part  of  his  readers.  With  a  small  circulation 
these  sums  would  bring  a  profit;  but,  after  a  certain  point  was 
reached,  every  copy  demanded  was  printed  at  a  loss.  Everybody's 
Magazine,  of  New  York,  was  threatened  during  the  past  year,  on 
account  of  the  increase  in  circulation  caused  by  the  Lawson 
articles  on  "  Frenzied  Finance,"  with  a  similar  predicament,  but 
could  immediately  raise  the  selling  price  per  copy,  and  at  the 
expiration  of  advertising  contracts  secure  their  renewal  at  a 
higher  rate.  Many  a  Chicago  publisher  since  Mr.  Sewell's  day 
has  sighed  for  such  a  circulation. 

A  squad  of  juvenile  publications,  in  imitation  of  the  Little 
Corporal,  sprang  into  existence.  Fifteen  such  were  started 
between  1865  and  1871.  Eight  of  these  were  not  revived  after 
the  fire,  and  all  except  the  Little  Corporal  and  two  others  were 
very  short-lived.  Little  Folks,  begun  in  1869,  lasted  until  1877. 
This  was  advertised  as  a  monthly  of  "  illustrated  juvenile  litera- 
ture," but  was  sold  for  30  cents  a  year.  The  Young  Folks' 
Monthly,  undertaken  in  1870,  continued  until  1883.  An  adver- 
tisement in  a  newspaper  annual  for  1880  said  it  was  "a  live, 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  4°? 

sparkling,  illustrated  magazine  for  boys  and  girls,  and  older 
people  with  young  hearts,  containing  thirty-two  pages  of  illus- 
trations and  reading  matter  best  calculated  to  amuse  and  instruct 
the  young."  This  advertisement,  with  its  tone  of  commonness, 
has  a  meaning  for  this  essay.  It  helps  to  show  the  range  of  inter- 
est people  have  in  literary  productions,  from  the  classic  to  the 
common.  In  these  juveniles  we  readily  see  one  tendency  toward 
the  development  of  the  "  family-story"  periodical  —  a  type  which 
not  long  after  this  period  became  well  known  to  the  printing  trade. 

Another  part  of  this  "  family-story "  line  of  specialization 
appeared  in  the  periodicals  for  adults.  Back  in  the  prairie  period 
some  of  the  pioneer  publishers  of  general  literary-miscellany 
periodicals  had  called  attention  to  the  "  family  reading  "  in  their 
columns,  and  had  emphasized  the  special  interest  it  had  for 
families  in  homes  on  the  farms.  But  in  1868  home  papers  with 
home  titles  made  their  first  appearance.  The  Home  Eclectic 
came  out,  and  continued  monthly  until  1870,  acquiring  only  a 
small  constituency.  The  Chicago  Western  Home  also  was  started, 
secured  20,000  subscribers  by  1870,  and  disappeared  in  the  dis- 
aster of  1 87 1.  In  1869,  A.  N.  Kellogg,  the  inventor  of  "patent 
insides,"  the  printed  sheets  sent  to  country  newspapers  for  com- 
pletion with  local  items,  founded  the  Evening  Lamp.  This  is  a 
large  co-operative  newspaper,  printed  from  the  best  plate-matter 
of  the  A.  N.  Kellogg  Newspaper  Co.  It  is  filled  with  serials, 
stories,  sketches,  and  miscellaneous  matter  of  interest  and  of  fair 
quality.  It  is  sent  out  weekly  to  this  day.  Three  other  family 
fireside  papers  were  started  in  time  to  be  burned  out  by  the  fire. 

Chicago's  famous  holocaust  destroyed  the  files  of  some  maga- 
zines and  journals  from  the  earlier  period,  and  a  majority  of 
those  originated  after  the  war.  Many  periodicals  lived  only  long 
enough  for  their  names  to  be  put  into  the  newspaper  directories 
published  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia.  This  is  true  concern- 
ing not  a  few  of  the  306  in  the  bibliography  of  literary  publica- 
tions attempted  in  Chicago  up  to  1905,  compiled  during  the  course 
of  investigation  for  these  papers.  The  newspaper  annuals  are  the 
one  source  of  information  about  them.  And  at  least  one  such 
directory  for  every  year  since  the  first  was  brought  out,  has  been 


4o8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

consulted.  These  records  are  not  altogether  satisfactory  on  the 
point  of  duration.  The  founding  dates  which  they  contain  are 
sometimes  inaccurate.  They  do  not  give  the  dates  of  suspension. 
And  often  the  name  of  a  periodical  and  data  concerning  it  have 
been  repeated  in  the  annuals  for  one  or  two  years  after  its  publica- 
tion has  ceased.  But  when  no  corrections  from  files  or  interested 
persons  were  obtainable,  the  first  and  last  years  of  a  publication's 
appearance  in  the  directory  lists  have  been  taken  for  the  statistics 
herein  given.  Andreas  commented  that  for  his  History  of  Chi- 
cago (1884)  it  was  occasionally  impracticable  to  decide  whether 
some  of  the  publications  announced  "had  assumed  form  or 
remained  inchoate  in  the  projectors  "  because  the  records  in  news- 
paper directories  were  inaccurate.  He  said  it  was  impossible  to 
get  specific  dates,  the  fire  having  destroyed  printed  evidence,  and 
memories  proving  unreliable.  Paul  Selby,  in  preparing  a  section 
on  "  Defunct  Newspapers  and  periodicals  "  for  Moses  and  Kirk- 
land's  History  of  Chicago  (1895),  drew  heavily  on  Andreas  for 
the  early  period,  and  then  devoted  only  a  column  and  a  half  to  the 
periodicals  after  1857,  saying :  "  The  records  of  subsequent  years 
are  even  more  imperfect  than  the  preceding,"  In  no  history  of 
Chicago  has  the  ground  been  covered.  The  Inter-Ocean's  His- 
tory of  Chicago,  Its  Men  and  Institutions  (1900),  dismisses  the 
subject  with  a  brief  paragraph  stating  that  Chicago  has  made  a 
number  of  attempts  at  high-grade  literary  magazines,  but  that 
"none  has  met  with  noteworthy  success,  probably  owing  to  the 
fact  that  literature  is  not  of  a  local  character."  A  list  of  107 
newspapers  and  periodicals  destroyed  in  the  fire  was  compiled  in 
1872  by  James  W.  Sheahan  and  George  P.  Upton,  who  com- 
plained that  they  had  to  depend  solely  on  memory  in  getting  it 
ready  for  their  volume,  The  Great  Conflagration:  Chicago,  Its 
Past,  Present,  and  Future. 

[To  be  continued] 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY.     XVII 

PART  III,    GENERAL  STRUCTURE  OF  SOCIETY 

CHAPTER  VII.      THE  SOCIAL  FRONTIERS   (CONTINUED) 

SECTION  VIII.     THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  ROMAN  EMPIRE  AND  THE  FORMATION  OF  THE 

FEUDAL  REGIME 


G.    DE    GREEF 
Rector   of  the   Nouvelle   Universite,    Brussels,    Belgium 


The  Middle  Ages  are  completely  incomprehensible  if  one  does 
not  connect  them  with  the  whole  evolution  of  Roman  civilization 
of  which  they  form  the  continued  development.  If  the  Christi- 
anity of  the  Orient  and  the  barbarians  of  the  North  succeeded  in 
their  slow  conquest  of  the  Roman  world,  it  was  because  this 
world  was  profoundly  prepared  for  it,  and  had  even  arrived  at  an 
analogous  result  without  their  intervention.  One  may  say  that 
for  all  the  peoples  that  had  been  included  within  the  Roman 
Empire,  as  well  in  Asia  and  Africa  as  in  Europe,  the  rural  estate 
was  until  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century  the  foundation  of  social 
life,  of  its  political  organization,  and  notably  of  the  establishment 
of  frontiers.  Commerce  and  industry  had  declined;  gold  and 
silver  were  withdrawn  from  circulation  in  order  to  be  turned 
toward  the  Orient ;  all  exchanges  tended  to  be  made  in  kind;  and 
even  within  the  rural  estates  production  was  carried  on  with  a 
view  to  direct  consumption  upon  the  estate ;  even  the  public  pre- 
stations were  paid  in  kind :  corvees,  military  service,  etc.  The 
great  social  inequalities  arose  from  the  soil;  these  inequalities, 
clad  in  military  magnificence  and  invested  with  the  authority  of 
the  courts  of  justice,  formed  the  basis  of  the  feudal  system.  This 
did  not  bind  together  the  parts  of  one  society  alone,  but  of  diverse 
collectivities;  there  was  a  hierarchy  of  states,  just  as  there  was  a 
hierarchy  within  each  of  them.  The  feudal  system  at  a  certain 
period  bound  together  the  most  diverse  populations  of  several 
continents,  although  without  their  knowledge,  into  a  really  com- 

409 


4IO  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

mon  organization,  which  was  very  striking,  for  example,  in  the 
case  of  the  Mussulmans  and  the  Christians  at  the  time  of  the 
Crusades. 

During  almost  all  of  this  period  political  sovereignties  were 
demesnial  properties  which  had  their  frontiers  just  as  all  estates 
have  their  boundaries ;  they  expanded  or  shrunk  like  other  estates 
through  fraudulent  or  violent  occupation,  by  purchase  or  sale, 
through  marriage,  inheritance,  or  partition.  All  the  surplus  of 
social  superstructure  modeled  itself  upon  this  demesnial  organiza- 
tion, as  well  as  Christianity  itself,  whose  primitive  tendencies  had 
been  toward  equality.  External  frontiers  are  always  related  to 
internal  inequalities,  upon  which  the  principle  of  sovereignty  in 
reality  rests;  they  also  represent  existing  inequalities  between 
different  societies.  They  arise  or  decline  according  to  the  establish- 
ment of  regular  and  peaceful  relationships,  and  they  are  restrained 
or  developed  as  they  prevent  or  favor  the  leveling  of  intersocial 
conditions  and  their  integration  into  a  common  existence. 

In  the  first  century  almost  all  the  Christian  churches  were  in 
the  East,  with  the  exception  of  those  of  Rome  and  Pozzuoli ;  the 
Jews  figured  in  large  numbers  in  them.  Christianity,  however, 
was  not  a  unilateral  development  of  Judaism,  and  as  it  grew  it 
was  augmented  by  the  theological  and  philosophical  tributaries  of 
all  the  beliefs  and  doctrines  which,  relative  to  the  existing  con- 
ditions, were  the  best  adapted  to  their  environment.  Already  in 
the  second  century  Christianity  developed  in  Asia,  in  Greece,  in 
Italy,  and  gained  a  foothold  in  Gaul  and  in  Africa.  In  the  third, 
it  continued  to  spread  where  it  had  already  been  introduced,  and 
it  penetrated  into  Spain,  especially  into  Batica,  which  was  the 
part  most  Romanized;  in  the  fourth,  it  established  itself  in  the 
center  of  the  Balkan  peninsula. 

In  proportion  as  it  spread  it  became  definite  and  organized. 
At  the  Council  of  Carthage  in  258  there  were  eighty-one  bishops 
from  Africa.  About  the  year  400  there  were  bishops  in  every 
Roman  province,  and  their  bishoprics  did  not  correspond  with 
the  divisions  of  the  empire.  About  the  year  324  the  frontiers 
of  the  latter  were  crossed ;  there  was  a  bishop  of  the  Goths,  and 
another  of  the  Cimmerian  Bosphorus.     In  short,  the  religious 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  4" 

frontiers  tended  to  become  independent  of  the  internal  adminis- 
trative and  governmental  divisions,  and  to  overstep  the  military 
and  political  frontiers  of  the  empire.  This,  indeed,  is  evidence 
that  there  are  other  frontiers  than  the  latter.  I  add  that  even 
religious  or  moral  frontiers  are  not  purely  ideological,  but  imply 
a  temporal  constitution. 

Like  the  Christian  invasion,  that  of  the  barbarian  peoples  was 
slow,  but  irresistible.  It  was  often  and  at  first  an  obscure  and 
apparently  peaceful  infiltration.  Gradually  they  were  admitted 
either  as  colonies,  or  as  mercenaries  with  their  chiefs.  These 
chiefs  ended  by  taking  high  military  rank,  and  being  charged 
with  the  defense  of  the  empire  against  new  invaders.  In  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries  the  invasions  became  more  violent; 
they  harassed  both  the  East  and  the  West.  Beginning  with  the 
end  of  the  fifth  century,  the  Visigoths  made  themselves  masters 
of  Spain  and  of  Gaul ;  of  the  latter  as  far  as  the  Loire,  and  of  the 
former  the  whole  except  the  region  included  between  the  Duero 
on  the  south  and  the  ocean  on  the  west,  where  the  Suevi  set  up  a 
kingdom.  The  kingdom  of  Burgundy  included  almost  all  of  the 
basin  of  the  Rhone,  where,  however,  Provence  was  held  by  the 
Visigoths.  It  is  seen  that  these  new  states  were  not  bounded  by 
rigorous  physical  frontiers.  They  embraced  one  or  several  basins 
and  mountain  regions. 

The  kingdom  of  the  Franks  extended  from  the  ocean  on  the 
west  to  the  lower  course  of  the  Rhine  on  the  north,  and  along  the 
whole  middle  basin  of  the  Rhine  on  the  east  and  of  the  upper 
Rhine  on  the  southeast.  Burgundy,  to  the  south  of  the  Prankish 
kingdom,  occupied  the  sources  of  the  Seine,  of  the  Marne,  and  of 
the  Meuse.  One  can  therefore  no  longer  say  that  these  peoples 
occupied  one  or  more  basins  which  naturally  confined  them  within 
these  limits.  Mountains,  rivers,  and  basins  may  occasionally  be 
adapted  as  frontiers,  but  only  to  the  extent  to  which  they  may 
temporarily  correspond  to  the  internal  state  of  the  forces  of  a 
society  relative  to  surrounding  forces.  The  kingdom  of  the 
Franks  included  the  mouths  and  the  greater  part  of  the  basins  of 
the  Seine,  the  Scheldt,  the  Marne,  the  Meuse,  the  Moselle,  and 
the  Rhine. 


412  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  kingdom  of  the  Ostrogoths  extended  over  the  whole  of 
Italy  as  far  as  the  Alps  on  the  west,  and  the  Danube  on  the  north 
and  the  east,  and  included  Noricum,  Pannonia,  and  Dalmatia  as 
far  as  Cattaro  on  the  Adriatic.  The  Roman  Empire  no  longer 
included  anything  but  the  peninsula  south  of  the  Danube,  Asia 
Minor,  Syria,  Egypt,  and  the  two  Libyas.  The  rest  of  the  north 
coast  of  Africa  was  held  by  the  Vandals,  with  the  Balearics, 
Corsica,  and  Sardinia.  Where  in  all  this  are  the  natural  fron- 
tiers ?  When  the  frontier  chances  to  be  represented  by  mountains 
and  rivers,  it  is  always  temporarily,  just  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of 
simple  guide-boards.  And  yet  it  will  not  occur  to  any  sensible 
person  to  say  that  it  is  the  guide-hoard  which  makes  the  frontier. 
Moreover,  the  boundaries  of  these  newly  constituted  kingdoms, 
like  those  of  the  empire,  were  changing  continually.  In  526,  at 
the  death  of  Theodoric,  the  kingdom  of  the  Visigoths  was  over- 
thrown in  Spain,  but  it  continued  to  occupy  Provencial  Septi- 
mania,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Pyrenees  in  Gaul.  In  Spain  itself 
the  kingdom  of  the  Suevi  extended  the  length  of  the  mountains 
among  the  Cantabri  and  the  Basques.  The  kingdom  of  Bur- 
gimdy  was  slightly  modified,  but  that  of  the  Franks  extended 
now  from  the  Pyrenees  northward,  embracing,  besides  its  former 
basins,  those  of  the  Garonne,  the  Dordogne  and  the  Vienne. 
That  of  the  Ostrogoths  continued.  All  that  one  may  conclude  is 
the  tendency  in  the  West  toward  the  establishment  of  three  great 
states :  Italy,  Spain,  and  France ;  but  neither  mountains  nor 
rivers  formed  their  a  priori  boundaries.  Spain  retained,  in  geo- 
graphical Gaul,  Septimania,  while  Italy  possessed,  beyond  the 
Alps,  the  lower  valley  of  the  Rhone,  and  also  Raetia,  Noricum, 
Pannonia,  and  Dalmatia ;  the  Franks  also  held  Alemannia. 

This  situation  was  an  unstable  one,  by  reason  of  the  internal 
social  constitution  as  well  as  of  intersocial  relations  and  conflicts. 
Thus,  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Franks,  the  German  custom  of  divi- 
sion of  the  sovereignty  among  the  sons  of  the  king,  either  at  or 
before  his  death,  tended  constantly  to  the  destruction  of  political 
unity,  without  taking  account  of  other  peoples  that  would  continue 
to  disturb  the  map  of  the  West  —  a  map  which  was  destined  to  be 
modified,  independently  of  this  consideration,  by  the  fact  that  all 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  413 

social  equilibrium  is  by  definition  a  living  and  unstable  equi- 
librium. 

The  same  continuous  changes  occurred  in  the  Mediterranean 
world.  Since  476  there  had  been  no  emperor  at  Rome;  the 
Roman  Empire  of  the  East  persisted.  In  533  it  reconquered 
Africa,  Sardinia  and  Corsica,  and  the  Balearics  from  the  Vandals ; 
in  535.  Sicily  and  Dalmatia  from  the  Ostrogoths;  from  536  to 
553  it  regained  the  whole  of  the  Italian  peninsula,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  northern  part  of  the  old  diocese  of  Italy,  that  is  to  say, 
Rsetia,  Noricum,  and  Pannonia.  In  554  it  had  retaken  all  of  the 
southeast  of  Spain  from  the  Visigoths,  and  it  extended  beyond 
the  Guadalquivir.  It  was  a  real  offensive  return  of  the  old 
empire,  but  its  center  was  at  Byzantium,  and  the  force  of  this 
return  scarcely  made  itself  felt  in  the  West.  At  the  accession  of 
Justinian  there  were  sixty-four  provinces,  grouped  in  six  dio- 
ceses, which  were  again  divided  between  two  pretorian  pre- 
fectures, that  of  Illyria  and  that  of  the  East,  the  latter  the  more 
extensive.  These  divisions  were  neither  ethnic  nor  geographical. 
After  the  reconquest  of  Africa,  seven  new  provinces  were  estab- 
lished with  one  prefecture;  after  that  of  Italy,  twelve  provinces 
and  one  prefecture.  Under  these  conditions,  Justinian  restored 
to  Rome  her  old  privileges;  but  peoples  and  regions  were  con- 
fused without  regard  to  their  ethnical  affinities  or  to  geographical 
regions.  The  true  delimitations  were  of  another  sort;  the  civil 
and  military  powers  were  everywhere  clearly  separated;  quite  in 
contrast  with  the  old  imperial  policy,  the  provinces  might  from 
this  time  become  more  extended,  without  this  extension,  thanks  to 
the  separation  of  powers,  presenting  any  dangers. 

However,  in  the  administrative  districts  where  the  domina- 
tion lacked  complete  stability,  and  especially  in  those  bordering 
upon  the  frontiers,  the  two  powers,  civil  and  military,  were 
reunited.  This  system  was  even  extended  at  times  to  Italy  and  to 
Africa  in  case  of  necessity.  It  is  always,  in  fact,  upon  the  fron- 
tiers, where  instability  relative  to  internal  forces  is  the  greatest, 
that  military  force  tends  to  appear.  From  here  this  military  force 
tends  also  to  impress  its  authoritative  character  upon  the  whole 
internal  social  structure,  and  even  at  times,  as  we  see  in  the  case 


414  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  military  marches,  it  is  here  that  are  formed  the  military 
centers  of  new  states  which  at  certain  times  become  the  centers 
for  the  formation  of  new  military  states. 

Since  at  the  frontiers  the  civil  authority  was  confused  with  the 
military  power,  the  boundary  line  was  fortified.  Garrisons  and 
fortresses  were  increased  upon  the  Danube  as  far  as  the  sea,  and 
behind  this  first  defensive  line  six  hundred  strong  places  were  put 
in  a  state  of  defense  in  Dardania,  in  Thrace,  in  Macedonia,  in 
Epirus,  and  in  Thessaly.  The  mountains  and  rivers  were  not,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  even  military  frontiers,  except  as  they  were 
defended,  just  as  the  sword  does  not  become  a  weapon  until  it  is 
taken  in  hand.  Still  farther  toward  the  interior,  the  defiles  of 
Thermopylae,  the  isthmus  of  Corinth,  the  Chersonesus  of  Thrace, 
and  the  Crimea  were  barred  by  long  walls.  Already  the  emperor 
Anastasius  had  erected  them  from  the  Black  Sea  to  the  Sea  of 
Marmora  in  order  to  defend  Constantinople;  and  in  Asia  the 
same  thing  was  done  between  Trebizond  and  the  Euphrates;  a 
long  line  of  fortresses  extended  along  the  Persian  frontier. 
Africa  itself  was  covered  with  strongholds.  It  was  not  that 
rivers  and  mountains  were  lacking,  but  that  they  were  ineffective 
as  social  frontiers,  because  they  are  not  social  nor  even  military 
frontiers.  They  are  rendered  secure  only  upon  condition  of  being 
fortified ;  that  is  to  say,  by  social,  even  merely  military,  frontiers. 
They  are  secured  only  by  being  fortified  or  crossed;  and  even 
then  this  is  only  from  the  military  point  of  view,  which  itself  is 
subject  to  all  the  fluctuations  of  other  social  forces  from  without 
and  from  within. 

Thus  true  military  marches  were  established;  the  com- 
manders of  these  marches  lacked  only  sovereignty,  and  even 
this  was  delegated  to  them.  In  the  echelonned  places  of  the 
limes  bands  of  stationary  limitanei  held  garrison;  dues  were 
placed  in  authority  over  the  guards  of  the  marches,  with  com- 
manders of  militia  at  their  head.  Only  with  this  difference  from 
the  period  of  the  Roman  Empire  that  the  fortifications  and  garri- 
sons were  no  longer  solely  at  the  extreme  frontiers;  the  whole 
Byzantine  Empire  was  covered  with  them.  It  was  a  sign  of  evi- 
dent  weakness;    but   it   prevented   neither   the   Slavs,   nor   the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  415 

Lombards,  nor  the  Huns  and  other  barbarians,  from  invading- 
the  empire  either  with  violence  or  by  means  of  concessions  of 
lands. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Christian  church  continued  to  spread 
and  to  become  organized.  It  became  centralized  through  the 
establishment  of  its  hierarchy.  From  the  middle  of  the  fifth 
century  it  was  divided  into  five  provinces  or  patriarchates :  Rome, 
Constantinople,  Antioch,  Jerusalem,  Alexandria,  besides  the 
autonomous  province  of  Cyprus.  The  boundaries  of  these  divi- 
sions were  modeled,  at  least  in  the  East,  upon  the  civil  boundaries. 
The  city  had  its  bishops;  the  chief  place  of  the  province,  its 
metropolitan ;  the  patriarch  was  at  the  head  of  one  or  of  several 
dioceses.  Just  as  the  temporal  power  was  divided  between  the 
East  and  the  West,  so  the  bishop  of  Constantinople  tended  to 
become  the  pope  of  the  Eastern  church.  The  council  of  381  had 
given  him  the  first  place  after  the  bishop  of  Rome.  In  the  sixth 
century  he  became  ecumenical  patriarch,  in  spite  of  the  popes  of 
Rome,  who  were  sole  patriarchs  of  the  West. 

Just  as  kingdoms  were  founded  at  the  expense  of  the  empire 
both  at  home  and  abroad,  so  too  there  were  formed  national 
churches  in  Ethiopia,  in  Persia,  in  Armenia,  and  in  Iberia.  These 
churches  were,  at  the  most,  vassals  of  the  patriarchs  of  Alexan- 
dria, of  Antioch,  and  of  Constantinople.  The  feudal  hierarchy 
was  thus  organized  within  the  bosom  of  the  government  of  souls. 
The  bonds  of  this  hierarchy,  like  those  of  the  temporal  hierarchy, 
were  weak  or  powerful  according  to  circumstances.  From  the 
end  of  the  fifth  century  the  church  of  Persia  inclined  toward 
Nestorianism ;  that  of  Armenia,  toward  the  Monophysite  heresy. 

In  Gaul  there  existed  a  national  church,  with  its  vicariate  at 
Aries.  There  was  also  the  Celtic  church  of  Bretagne  and  of  Ire- 
land. In  reality,  it  was,  as  always,  through  adaptations  and 
differentiations,  which  went  sometimes  to  the  point  of  schism  and 
heresy,  that  Christianity  developed.  In  the  second  half  of  the 
sixth  century  its  domain  extended  as  far  as  Nubia,  as  well  as 
among  the  pagans  of  the  Caucasus  and  the  Black  Sea.  In  the 
West  the  barbarians,  Burgundians,  Suevi,  Visigoths,  at  first 
Arians,  went  over  to  Rome ;  the  Lombards  remained  recalcitrant 


4l6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

In  the  diocese  of  Africa  the  church  struggled  against  the  Dona- 
tists,  and  converted  Tripolitana,  Mauretania,  and  Sardinia.  At 
the  North  it  incorporated  within  itself  the  Anglo-Saxons  and  the 
Scots.  It  organized  its  less  stationary  or  mobile  militia.  The 
principal  phenomenon  is  that  the  frontiers  of  the  church  extended 
beyond  those  of  any  of  the  states  of  the  period,  and  even  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  old  Roman  Empire.  Gregory  the  Great  estab- 
lished the  real  primacy  of  the  Roman  church  in  the  West  —  a 
primacy  hitherto  rather  nominal  than  effective.  At  the  same  time, 
the  temporal  domain  was  extending;  for  just  as  the  soul,  in  spite 
even  of  the  doctrine  of  the  church,  is  inseparable  from  the  body 
and  the  power  of  matter,  so  there  is  no  spiritual  sovereignty  with- 
out temporal  sovereignty.  That  is  possible  only  with  doctrines 
which  are  not  fitted  to  become  social  beliefs.  The  temporal 
sovereignty  of  the  popes  sprang  naturally,  like  all  sovereignty  in 
its  beginnings,  from  property.  The  popes  had  become  the  great- 
est landed  proprietors  in  Italy  at  a  period  when  land  comprised 
the  principal  sort  of  wealth.  Their  domains,  arranged  in  divisions 
designated  by  the  name  of  patrimonies,  comprised  each  the  total 
real  property,  massae,  held  in  each  province.  The  papacy  thus 
had  patrimonies  not  only  in  Italy,  but  in  Gaul,  in  Africa,  and 
elsewhere.  The  different  portions  of  each  of  these  patrimonies 
were  occupied  and  cultivated  by  colonists  attached  to  the  soil; 
they  were  worked  either  directly  or  through  tenants,  but  always 
under  the  direction  and  oversight  of  an  ecclesiastical  rector.  At 
the  time  the  pope  was,  it  is  true,  still  only  a  great  proprietor,  but 
nevertheless  here  lay  the  origin  of  his  temporal  power  —  an  origin 
analogous  to  that  of  the  temporal  power  of  the  feudal  lords,  which 
inversely  became  invested  with  a  spiritual  power  such  as  that  of 
the  administration  of  justice. 

From  all  that  precedes,  one  may  see  perfectly  that  the  forma- 
tion of  new  states  at  this  period,  with  their  respective  frontiers, 
was  determined  above  all  by  the  development  of  internal  social 
conditions  in  correlation  with  external  forces  of  the  same  charac- 
ter. Under  feudalism  and  during  the  Middle  Ages,  the  play  of 
these  forces  was  more  complex  than  it  i>erhaps  had  ever  been.  A 
given  man  might  be  vassal  in  one  territory  and  paramount  lord  of 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  417 

another,  in  regions  which  might  even  be  far  distant  from  one 
another  and  not  bound  together  in  any  way;  just  as  one  may  be 
the  proprietor  of  lands  which  are  not  contiguous.  The  true  hier- 
archical bond  which  set  limits  to  social  forces  was  the  feudal  con- 
tract ;  general  frontiers  and  particular  subdivisions  were  only  the 
verification  of  these  relations.  These  frontiers  and  these  divisions 
of  sovereignty,  like  those  of  property,  took  account,  and  were 
obliged  to  take  account,  of  mountains,  or  rivers,  or  streams,  only 
in  so  far  as  these  coincided,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree,  with 
kingdoms,  principalities,  or  seigneurial  domains;  just  as,  in  the 
case  of  present  titles  to  property,  one  indicates  its  boundaries, 
which  may  be  in  a  given  case  a  stream,  but  which  may  also 
cross  it. 

It  is  no  more  astonishing  to  see  the  continuous  changes  of 
frontiers  in  the  Germanic  west,  beginning  with  the  sixth  century, 
than  it  is  to  observe  those  which  occur  in  private  domains  at  all 
times.  Political  sovereignty  always  tends  to  approach  economic 
sovereignty.  At  this  time  the  latter  rested  upon  the  ownership  of 
the  soil.  In  511  the  four  sons  of  Clovis  divided  the  Prankish 
Empire  among  themselves  as  a  hereditary  domain.  Aquitaine 
was  made  the  subject  of  a  special  division  among  them,  on  account 
of  the  superior  richness  of  its  products.  Likewise  in  561,  at  the 
death  of  Clotaire  the  Pirst,  who  had  again  become  sole  master  of 
the  empire,  and  had  increased  his  patrimony  by  the  addition  of 
Burgundy  and  Provence,  the  inheritance  was  divided  among  his 
four  sons.  In  this  partition  they  took  account  of  the  value  of  the 
divisions,  and  not  of  their  extent  or  geographical  limits,  which 
were  secondary  matters.  One  portion  comprised  all  the  south  and 
west  of  present  Prance  (except  Bretagne),  with  the  basins  of  the 
Garonne,  the  Loire,  and  the  Seine;  another,  the  north  and  the 
west,  with  the  whole  basin  of  the  Scheldt;  the  third,  the  basin  of 
the  Rhone;  the  last,  those  of  the  Meuse  and  the  Rhine.  These 
boundaries  changed  as  the  result  of  new  deaths  and  partitions. 
The  unity  re-established  in  613  was  again  broken  up  to  make 
place,  in  634,  for  two  distinct  kingdoms,  the  one  of  Austrasia, 
the  other  of  Burgundy  and  Neustria.  Each  of  the  two  kings,  says 
Predegarius,  obtained  "an  equal  number  of  subjects,  and  equal 


41 8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOI^OGY 

territories."  And  by  equal  territories  it  is  not  necessary  to  under- 
stand equal  areas,  but  rather  equivalent  areas;  for  otherwise  the 
number  of  the  subjects  would  not  have  been  equal.  In  reality,  in 
order  to  make  the  partition,  they  established  a  balance  of  social, 
and  especially  of  economic,  forces.  These  forces  are  the  result 
of  a  combination  of  territory  and  of  population.  It  was  in  accord- 
ance with  this  balance  that  the  delimitation  of  the  frontiers  was 
traced. 

Again,  at  the  death  of  Charles  Martel,  in  741,  the  Prankish 
heritage  was  re-established  in  its  unity,  and  was  even  increased 
by  the  addition  of  the  duchies  of  Thuringia  and  Alemannia ;  and 
Bavaria  and  Frisia  were  rendered  tributary.  The  Mussulmans 
had  been  completely  driven  out  of  Gaul.  On  the  northwest  the 
empire  extended  as  far  as  the  mouth  of  the  Weser ;  on  the  south, 
to  the  Pyrenees  and  the  Mediterranean;  on  the  west,  except  for 
Bretagne,  it  touched  the  ocean;  on  the  east  it  skirted  the  Saale, 
the  Erzgebirge,  and  the  Bohmerwald,  and  included  the  upper 
basin  of  the  Danube,  with  the  secondary  basins  of  its  southern 
tributaries.  In  768  the  empire  was  again  divided.  The  first 
Carol  ingian  kings  scarcely  took  account  of  what  we  call  nation- 
alities, nor  even  of  the  great  provincial  divisions  of  Prankish 
Gaul.  Austrasia  and  Aquitaine,  for  example,  were  divided  into 
two  zones  of  almost  equal  extent,  with  artificial  frontiers.  Par 
from  being  separations,  they  were  destined  to  be  reunited,  from  a 
strategical  and  political  point  of  view,  in  such  a  way  that  a  com- 
munity of  action  was  naturally  imposed.  Such  was  the  spirit  of 
the  act  by  which  Pepin  himself  determined  the  division  between 
his  two  sons.  Karlman  having  died  in  771,  the  unity  of  the 
inheritance  was  reconstituted  in  favor  of  Charlemagne.  Por  a 
time  three  great  empires  coexisted,  and  the  evolution  of  each  of 
them  shows  that  no  society  is  arrested,  either  in  its  extension  or 
in  its  decline,  by  physical  limits.  Neither  in  an  exclusively  ethnic 
sense,  nor  in  one  exclusively  geographical,  are  there  natural  fron- 
tiers, any  more  than  there  are  natural  laws.  There  are  no  laws 
but  social  laws,  nor  any  frontiers  but  social  frontiers. 

At  the  death  of  Mahomet,  in  632,  the  political  and  religious 
unity  of  the  Arabian  peninsula,  shaken  for  a  moment,  had  been 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  419 

reconstituted  by  force.  What  admirable  natural  frontiers  were 
those  which  constituted  the  geographical  limits  of  this  peninsula, 
with  its  largely  homogeneous  peoples ! 

And  yet,  shortly  after  the  death  of  the  prophet,  the  Arabs 
spread  beyond  the  peninsula  to  the  north,  and,  in  spite  of  moun- 
tains, conquered  Syria,  and  even  Egypt  and  Persia,  in  spite  of 
their  rivers.  The  republic  of  Arab  tribes  became  a  great  empire, 
at  once  religious  and  military.  It  was  internal  social  conditions 
which  brought  about  unity  in  the  peninsula  of  its  origin,  and  it 
was  the  same  conditions  which  in  their  development  provoked  the 
Arab  overflow  of  boundaries;  but  wherever  it  succeeded  in 
spreading,  it  adapted  itself  to  existing  conditions  by  seeking  in 
part  their  level;  and  when  the  inundation  was  stopped,  it  was 
because  it  had  exhausted  its  own  strength,  and  was,  moreover, 
halted  by  other  social  forces  which  were  more  powerful  relative 
to  the  state  of  civilization  at  that  time.  Successively,  Africa, 
upper  Asia,  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  and  Spain,  with  the  exception  of 
the  mountainous  part  in  the  northwest,  became  subject  to  Mus- 
sulman domination.  Septimania  even  was  conquered  in  the 
eighth  century,  and  the  other  islands  of  the  Mediterranean  during 
the  two  following  centuries.  Thenceforth  the  frontiers  of  the 
Mussulman  world  in  Asia  were,  upon  the  east,  the  whole  basin  of 
the  Indus  and  the  mountains;  upon  the  north,  the  Aral  Sea  and 
the  Caspian  Sea,  and  the  Caucasus  between  the  latter  and  the 
Black  Sea ;  in  Africa  it  included  Egypt  and  the  whole  coast  of  the 
Mediterranean  to  a  point  beyond  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar;  in 
Europe  it  overstepped  the  Pyrenees.  The  empire  embraced  the 
basins  of  the  Indus,  the  Euphrates,  the  Tigris,  the  Amu  Daria, 
the  lower  and  middle  Nile,  and  all  the  Spanish  streams ;  it  touched 
two  oceans  and  dominated  the  Mediterranean  upon  the  west,  the 
east,  and  the  south.  Where  shall  we  draw  the  natural  frontiers 
of  this  empire?  Where  ought  it  to  stop?  To  what  point  could 
it  legitimately  advance?  W^hy  did  it  end  by  being  broken  up 
politically  and  religiously?  Why  were  distinct  caliphates  formed 
in  Spain,  in  Maghreb,  in  Egypt,  in  Bagdad,  with  their  distinct 
territorial  divisions?  Why,  finally,  from  870  to  874,  were  the 
Arabs  and  the  Arabic  tongue  in  Asia  reduced  to  the  same  limits 


420  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

as  before  Islam?  It  is  evident  that  all  these  important  changes 
can  be  interpreted  only  by  means  of  internal  and  external  social 
conditions,  of  which  military  conflicts  are  only  the  violent  expres- 
sion, and  so-called  political  frontiers  the  result.  A  people  has 
never  been  restored  to  its  natural  boundaries,  any  more  than  it 
has  reached  them  during-  the  period  of  its  growth.  It  is,  in  fact, 
impossible  to  determine  them.  When  the  Turkish  and  Mongolian 
domination  had  begxm  in  Asia,  and  after  the  Mongols  in  1258  had 
overthrown  the  caliphate,  the  Arabs  remained  only  in  the  Semitic 
countries,  or  in  those  formerly  made  Semitic  by  the  Phcenicians. 

The  three  great  empires  —  Carolingian,  Arab,  and  Byzantine 
—  represented  an  unstable  and  momentary  equilibrium,  like  all 
social  and  organic  equilibria.  The  very  causes  which  favored 
their  formation  led  also  to  their  dissolution.  Any  one  of  the 
three  disappearing,  the  other  two  had  no  longer  any  raison  d'etre. 

From  806,  at  the  apogee  of  his  power,  Charlemagne  deter- 
mined upon  the  division  of  his  empire  after  his  death.  It  included 
regions  simply  tributary.  At  this  time  the  empire  extended 
beyond  the  Pyrenees  as  far  as  the  Ebro;  on  the  west  it  extended 
along  the  Atlantic,  the  English  Channel,  the  North  Sea,  the  Eider, 
and  the  Baltic  Sea  as  far  as  the  mouth  of  the  Vistula,  whose 
course  bounded  it  on  the  northeast;  from  this  point  it  was 
bounded  on  the  east  by  the  Tisxa,  and  by  the  Narenta  as  far  as  the 
mouth  of  the  latter  stream  on  the  Adriatic;  on  the  south  it 
included  north  and  central  Italy,  and  touched  the  Mediterranean 
coast  of  Gaul.  Neither  the  Alps  nor  the  Pyrenees  served  as  its 
frontiers.  As  to  rivers,  it  included  the  great  fluvial  basins  of  the 
Adour,  the  Po,  the  Garonne,  the  Loire,  the  Seine,  the  Somme,  the 
Scheldt,  the  Meuse,  the  Rhine,  the  Ems,  the  Weser,  and  the  Elbe, 
and,  besides,  the  basin  of  the  Danube  as  far  as  the  country  of  the 
Avars.  A  military  march  was  established  beyond  the  Pyrenees, 
where  the  empire  was  in  direct  contact  with  the  Arab  power. 

At  his  death,  in  accordance  with  the  act  of  j>artition,  the 
empire  was  divided  among  his  three  sons;  this  could  be  done 
without  danger  at  that  time,  or  else  it  is  probable  either  that  the 
Germanic  custom  had  been  modified  in  regard  to  the  right  of 
primogeniture,  or  that,   in  the  absence  of  this  adaptation,  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  421 

empire,  thus  divided,  had  been  in  a  state  of  inferiority  as  com- 
pared with  its  neighbor.  One  portion  extended  from  the  Ebro  to 
the  Loire  and  the  Alps ;  the  second,  from  the  Loire  to  the  Vistula 
at  the  south  and  at  the  north,  as  far  as  the  Danube  and  the  moun- 
tains of  Raetia  and  of  Neustria  on  the  east,  whence  it  commanded 
the  valleys  of  Lombardy.  The  third,  including  its  tributary  coun- 
tries, comprised  Lombardy,  the  greater  part  of  Bavaria,  Aleman- 
nia  to  the  south  of  the  Danube  with  Raetia;  in  Italy  it  bordered 
upon  the  pontifical  states  which,  extending  from  the  Adriatic  to 
the  Mediterranean,  separated  Carolingian  Italy  from  the  duchies 
of  Spoleto  and  Benevento  —  tributary  states  which  were,  how- 
ever, rather  inclined  toward  attaching  themselves  to  the  Empire 
of  the  East,  which  held  Sicily  and  the  southern  part  of  the  penin- 
sula, as  well  as  the  coasts  of  Dalmatia,  with  their  islands. 

{To  he  continued] 


REVIEWS 


Elements  of  Sociology.  By  Frank  W.  Blackmar,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Sociology  and  Economics  in  the  University  of 
Kansas,    New  York :    The  Macmillan  Co. 

The  most  essential  thing  in  a  book  review  is  to  see  the  point  of 
view  of  the  author  and  to  make  prominent  the  chief  merit  of  his  work. 

The  need  which  Professor  Blackmar  has  attempted  to  meet  in  his 
Elements  of  Sociology  is  very  evident  from  a  mere  glance  at  its  table 
of  contents.  The  outline,  divisions,  and  general  treatment  of  the  sub- 
ject are  at  once  a  comment  upon  former  textbooks  and  an  explana- 
tion of  the  appearance  of  a  new  one. 

Professor  Blackmar  is  aware  of  the  fact,  as  other  teachers  of 
sociology  must  be,  that  there  is  an  urgent  demand  for  a  textbook 
throughout  the  country.  There  are  colleges  in  which  the  study  of 
sociology  has  lagged  for  want  of  a  suitable  textbook,  and  other  col- 
leges which  would  have  introduced  the  subject  but  for  the  same  lack 
of  a  good  book  to  begin  with.  Not  only  has  the  absence  of  a  good 
textbook  kept  sociology  out  of  the  curriculums  of  many  institutions, 
but  has  kept  it  out  of  favor  among  students  where  it  has  been  taught. 
Only  in  universities  where  the  resources  render  a  textbook  less  neces- 
sary has  sociology  been  able  to  make  much  headway. 

This  urgent  need  of  a  textbook  does  not  imply  that  the  books 
which  have  been  heretofore  used. are  of  no  value.  The  Principles  of 
Sociology  by  Giddings  contains  subject-matter  which  cannot  be 
omitted  in  any  study  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  society,  but  it 
does  not  deal  with  many  aspects  of  the  subject  with  which  the  stu- 
dent should  be  made  acquainted.  Ward's  textbook,  while  containing 
an  admirable  condensation  of  his  own  system  of  sociology,  gives 
almost  no  information  in  regard  to  the  ideas  and  points  of  view  of 
other  writers.  The  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Society  by  Small 
and  Vincent  has  answered  to  the  demand  for  a  systematic  and  scien- 
tific plan  for  studying  contemporaneous  problems,  but  it  does  not 
now  meet  the  need  of  students  who  wish  to  obtain  a  general  view 
of  the  science  up  to  date.  Spencer's  books  on  sociology  are  too  large 
and  expensive.  And  so  none  of  the  books  thus  far  are  free  from 
serious  objections  as  texts  for  beginners. 

432 


REVIEWS  423 

It  is  clear  that  Professor  Blackmar  proposed  to  write  a  book 
which  would  give  a  general  view  of  both  the  theoretical  and  prac- 
tical aspects  of  the  science,  and  to  make  prominent  the  chief  ideas  of 
sociological  writers  to  date. 

Viewed  in  this  light,  the  book  is  a  success.  It  opens  up  the  whole 
field  of  sociology,  and,  while  keeping  himself  modestly  in  the  back- 
ground, the  author  attempts  to  give  a  fair  and  explicit  presentation 
of  the  ideas  of  others. 

The  book  has  seven  subdivisions :  ( i )  "  Nature  and  Import  of 
Sociology;"  (2)  "Social  Evolution;"  (3)  "Socialization  and  Social 
Control;"  (4)  "Social  Ideals;"  (5)  "Social  Pathology,"  dealing 
with  practical  subjects  such  as  charity,  poverty,  crime,  social 
degeneration;  (6)  "Methods  of  Investigation;"  (7)  "History  of 
Sociology."  It  brings  out  the  general  views  found  in  the  works  of 
Spencer,  Gumplowicz,  Schaeffle,  Lilienfeld,  Mackenzie,  Tarde,  Le 
Bon,  Letoumeau,  De  Greef,  Giddings,  Small,  Ward,  Ross,  Ely,  Mill, 
Malthus,  Warner,  Henderson,  etc. 

The  chief  merit  of  the  book  from  the  theoretical  side  is  that  it 
gives  an  intelligent  statement  of  the  view-points  of  all  the  leading 
sociological  writers.  The  chief  merit  from  the  practical  side  is  that 
it  touches  upon  a  variety  of  vital  and  interesting  problems  in  such  a 
way  as  to  tempt  the  student  to  go  forward  and  specialize. 

While  it  is  not  often  easy  to  grasp  the  central  idea  and  chief 
merit  of  a  book,  it  is  always  easy  to  point  out  defects.  The  vast  field 
which  every  book  must  leave  uncovered  gives  the  critic  a  wide  range 
for  fault-finding.  In  the  present  case  the  reviewer  ventures  to  sug- 
gest that  the  book  would  have  been  stronger  if  it  devoted  more 
careful  attention  to  Comte  and  Spencer.  An  outline  of  Comte's 
Positive  Philosophy,  and  especially  of  his  fine  study  of  the  evolu- 
tion of  society,  would  have  added  a  few  very  valuable  pages.  More 
details  might  have  been  given  showing  Spencer's  conclusions  as  to 
origins  and  as  to  the  general  laws  governing  the  evolution  of  indus- 
try, the  family,  religion,  etc.  And  some  statement  of  the  factors  of 
society,  such  as  Spencer  gives  in  his  first  volume  of  Principles  of 
Sociology,  would  have  helped  to  indicate  to  the  student  the  sources 
from  which  social  laws  are  to  be  derived.  The  space  devoted  to 
Le  Play  does  not  seem  proportionate  to  his  contribution  to  sociology, 
as  the  whole  modern  habit  of  investigating  actual  conditions  is 
largely  the  result  of  Le  Play's  example.  In  the  discussion  of  crime 
some  mention  might  have  been  made  of  Lombroso  and  the  Positive 


424  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

School  to  which  he  belongs.  In  the  chapter  on  the  "  History  of 
Sociology"  it  would  have  added  to  the  clearness  of  the  origin  of 
sociology  if  the  ideas  of  St.  Simon  and  Turgot  had  been  presented 
which  Comte  borrowed  and  used  as  the  framework  of  his  great 
philosophy. 

Upon  the  whole,  Professor  Blackmar  has  the  correct  idea  of  a 
textbook,  and  the  work  which  he  offers  to  the  public  is  likely  to 
cause  sociology  to  be  introduced  into  many  institutions,  and  to  bring 
the  study  into  more  general  favor  among  students. 

The  style  of  the  book  is  easy,  and  free  from  any  ambitious  flights 
or  phrasing,  but  clear  and  agreeable. 

Jerome  Dowd. 

University  of  Wisconsin. 


Evidence  in  Athenian  Courts-.  By  Robert  J.  Bonner,  Ph.D. 
Chicago:  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1905.     Pp.  98. 

Generally  speaking,  the  separation  of  court  from  jury,  of  the 
declarers  of  the  law  from  the  triers  of  the  fact,  has  been  a  pre- 
requisite to  the  growth  of  a  law  of  evidence.  Where  the  court  passes 
upon  the  facts  in  issue,  as  is  generally  the  case  in  the  countries  of 
continental  Europe,  and  elsewhere  where  the  law  is  based  upon 
Roman  law,  no  systems  of  evidence  have  been  developed.  There  the 
court  receives  all  the  evidence  offered,  trusting  its  own  power  to 
avoid  giving  undue  weight  to  matter  of  slight  value,  and  to  avoid 
being  prejudiced  by  evidence  likely  to  appeal  to  the  emotions.  Eng- 
list  courts,  however,  early  began  to  fear  the  discretion  of  the  jury, 
and  to  exclude  much  evidence  from  its  consideration  per  doubt  del 
lay  gents.  This  fear  is  largely  responsible  for  our  law  of  evidence. 
It  would  be  surprising,  therefore,  to  find  that  the  Athenians  had  any 
detailed  law  of  evidence.  In  their  popular  courts  there  was  no 
separation  of  judge  and  jury.  The  court,  composed  of  a  great  num- 
ber of  citizens,  passed  upon  the  entire  case.  It  was  more  like  a 
town-meeting  than  like  either  judge  or  jury.  Mr.  Bonner's  mono- 
graph astonishes  one  more  by  the  comparatively  large  amount  of 
law  on  evidence  that  he  seems  to  discover  than  by  its  paucity.  In 
reading  it  the  feeling  that  he  has  given  at  least  full,  and  possibly  too 
full,  credit  to  his  meager  materials  is  constantly  present. 

The  facts  adduced  to  show  that  there  was  a  rule  against  irrelevant 
evidence  (p.  14)  may  be  taken  as  typical.  Such  a  fundamental  rule 
should  leave  plain  traces.    Of  course,  the  most  common  application 


REVIEWS  425 

of  it  is  the  exclusion  of  matter  foreign  to  the  issue,  but  tending  to 
prejudice  the  jury  against  a  party.  The  evidence  he  relies  on  to 
establish  the  rule  is  as  follows :  protests  by  the  orators  against  the 
prevailing  practice  of  using  it ;  arguments  by  them  that  going  into 
side  issues  consumes  too  much  time  and  is  the  resort  of  those  who 
have  bad  cases ;  instances  of  parties  refraining  from  answering 
irrelevant  evidence  given  on  the  other  side ;  apologies  for  intro- 
ducing irrelevant  matter;  an  understanding  that  speeches  ought  to 
be  relevant ;  orders  from  the  court  to  "  stick  to  the  main  issue."  The 
only  real  indication  of  a  rule  is  that  parties  speaking  in  the  Areopagus 
had  to  take  oath  to  confine  themselves  to  the  record.  In  the  other 
courts  that  was  not  required.  Is  it  not  rather  plain  that  the  limita- 
tions on  irrelevancy  were  merely  such  as  any  body,  a  town-meeting 
for  example,  would  place  upon  its  speakers,  rather  than  a  hard  and 
fast  legal  rule  ?  The  former  was  to  be  expected ;  the  latter  would 
be  surprising. 

The  evidence  of  a  rule  permitting  one  to  refuse  incriminating 
himself  (p.  43)  is  slight  indeed.  An  advocate,  who  apparently  has 
prepared  a  deposition  for  a  witness,  writes  him  that  the  so-called 
deposition  is  carefully  composed  and  will  not  subject  him  to  legal 
liability,  danger,  or  disgrace.  Does  it  appear  from  this  that  the  wit- 
ness could  not  be  compelled  to  testify  if  such  results  would  follow? 
The  advocate  may  well  have  been  merely  stating  the  care  he  had 
taken  in  preparing  the  deposition,  or  he  may  have  been  inducing  a 
reluctant  witness  to  testify  without  compulsion. 

Even  the  evidence  of  a  rule  against  hearsay,  which  it  is  said 
(p.  20)  "  was  expressly  forbidden  by  law,"  is  not  convincing.  Isaeus 
says  it  is  right  to  testify  to  things  one  was  present  at,  that  to  testify 
to  others  is  hearsay.  Demosthenes  says  that  the  laws  forbid  hearsay. 
But  in  none  of  these  cases  was  it  excluded.  Perhaps  all  Demosthenes 
meant  was  that  one  could  be  punished  for  palming  off  hearsay  knowl- 
edge on  the  court  as  first-hand  knowledge.  Mr.  Bonner  tells  us 
(p.  20)  that  such  a  fraud  on  the  court  was  punishable.  But  that 
would  be  far  from  excluding  hearsay  when  frankly  offered  as  such. 

In  some  places  Mr.  Bonner's  statement  of  the  English  law  is  not 
absolutely  accurate.  It  is  hardly  true  that  "any  inducement  being 
held  out  by  anyone  in  authority  "  (p.  29)  makes  a  confession  of  crime 
inadmissible.  The  common  law  rules  concerning  incompetency  (p. 
27)  are  neither  fully  nor  accurately  stated.  Religious  belief  and 
sanity  as  qualifications,  for  example,  are  not  mentioned.     But  Mr. 


426  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Bonner  was  not  investigating  nor  writing  a  treatise  on  our  law  of 
evidence.    Slight  inaccuracies  as  to  it  may  be  pardoned. 

One  or  two  odd  things  may  be  mentioned.  It  seems  that  in 
criminal  cases  in  the  Areopagus  a  witness  could  not  testify  to  impor- 
tant facts  of  which  he  had  knowledge,  unless  he  knew  whether  the 
accused  was  guilty  or  innocent  and  would  first  testify  to  that  (pp.  15, 
17).  If  a  witness  testified  falsely,  he  was  punished  for  the  perjury. 
But  he  could  make  an  oath  disclaiming  knowledge,  and  though  this 
was  wilfully  false,  he  was  not  punished  (p.  43).  The  evidence  of 
this,  however,  is  remarkably  slight.  Cross-examination  was  unknown 
(p.  20).  Omens  and  dreams  were  admissible  evidence  (p.  19).  The 
gratitude  of  the  jury  for  past  good  deeds  of  the  defendant  was 
appealed  to,  as  was  also  their  cupidity  for  further  financial  benefits 
to  the  state  which  might  arise  from  leniency  (p.  13). 

Mr.  Bonner  seems  to  have  exhausted  his  sources,  both  original 
and  secondary.  He  has  shown  acuteness  in  his  deductions.  The 
only  real  doubt  as  to  his  conclusions  arises  from  the  fear  that  he  was 
overzealous  in  his  search  for  a  body  of  law  on  evidence  in  Athens. 

Clarke  B.  Whittier. 

University  of  Chicago  Law  School. 


Modern  Methods  of  Charity.  By  Charles  Richmond  Hender- 
son, assisted  by  others.  New  York:  The  Macmillan  Co., 
1904.    Pp.715.    $3.50  net. 

We  learn  our  lessons  of  charity  at  vast  expenditure  of  substance 
and  of  energy.  We  waste  ourselves  in  experiments.  We  attack  the 
bubbles  which  rise  to  the  surface,  and  fail  to  dig  deep  for  the  nucleus 
of  decay  whence  the  bubbles  come.  We  harm  where  we  would  help. 
The  astronomer  can  calculate  to  a  second  the  occurrence  of  an  eclipse 
a  hundred  years  away.  The  chemist  can  reduce  a  rock  to  its  ele- 
ments and  determine  the  presence  of  each  in  its  exact  proportion. 
But  no  such  certainty  is  possible  in  the  vaguely  defined  territory 
which  we  call  the  "  field  of  charity."  In  charity  we  are  dependent 
on  experience.  The  greater  the  variety  and  volume  of  experience  at 
our  back,  the  nearer  we  approach  to  sure-handed  performance. 
Therefore  any  means  by  which  the  experiences  and  methods  of 
others  may  be  placed  at  our  service,  in  convenient  and  usable  form, 
saves  us  the  time  and  labor  necessary  to  obtain  the  experience  for 


REVIEWS  427 

ourselves.  It  also  gives  us  the  benefit  of  the  differing  points  of  view 
of  others  engaged  upon  problems  similar  to  ours. 

Perhaps  no  writer  has  done  more  than  Dr.  Henderson  in  gather- 
ing up  the  scattered  and  unarticulated  results  of  experience  in 
charity,  and  placing  them  before  us  in  concise,  simple  form.  Several 
years  ago  appeared  his  admirable  book.  Dependents,  Defectives  and 
Delinquents,  which  has  become  a  widely  used  textbook.  Later  was 
published  his  summary  of  the  writings  of  Dr.  Thomas  Chalmers,  in 
which  is  given  the  gist  of  that  eminent  man's  conclusions  after  many 
years  of  study  and  work  among  the  poor.  This  in  turn  was  followed 
by  Modern  Prison  Systems.  But  the  task  which  Dr.  Henderson  has 
undertaken  in  Modern  Methods  of  Charity  far  surpasses  that  involved 
in  the  preparation  of  any  of  his  books  previously  published.  The 
work  is  monumental,  both  in  the  vast  amount  of  labor  required  in 
collecting,  sifting,  and  condensing  material,  and  in  the  magnitude 
of  the  object  intended  to  be  accomplished.  This  object  is  nothing 
less  than  the  description,  in  convenient  form,  of  the  methods  and 
organization  of  public  and  private  charity  today  in  the  more  impor- 
tant countries  of  Europe  and  America.  To  each  country  is  devoted 
a  chapter,  introduced  by  a  brief  historical  sketch,  showing  the  suc- 
cessive steps  which  have  marked  the  development  of  charity,  as 
general  intelligence  has  increased  and  industrial  and  social  conditions 
have  changed.  This  prepares  us  to  understand  the  present-day  laws, 
methods,  and  point  of  view. 

The  book  is  encyclopedic,  concrete.  It  is  not  a  discussion  of 
principles,  but  a  record  of  experiences  and  a  statement  of  methods 
based  on  lessons  of  experience.  It  is  not  philosophy,  it  is  not  theory ; 
but  it  is  a  foundation  upon  which  theory  and  philosophy  may  be 
erected.  It  is  the  product  of  the  hardest  and  most  tedious  delving, 
searching,  translating,  comparing,  and  verifying.  As  it  is  a  pioneer, 
it  has  lacked  the  help  which  predecessors,  however  incomplete,  would 
have  given.  It  has  broken  new  paths  which  will  not  have  to  be 
broken  again.  The  courage  and  patient  industry  which  the  book 
represents  compel  admiration. 

Naturally  there  are  errors.  It  is  scarce  conceivable  that  the 
reducing,  sorting,  and  editing  of  the  huge  volume  of  material  drawn 
from  hundreds  of  widely  scattered  sources  could  produce  a  flawless 
result.  That  the  work  was  performed  by  several  persons,  differing 
in  experience,  point  of  view,  and  judgment,  accounts  for  some 
unevenness  in  clearness  and  in  the  value  of  examples  selected  as 


428  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

illustrations.  Here  and  there  sources  of  information  were  not  the 
latest  accessible,  and  descriptions  which  would  have  been  true  a 
number  of  years  ago  were  not  accurate  at  the  time  they  were  written. 
Illustrations  are  not  always  representative  or  typical.  Small  experi- 
ments of  unproved  value,  in  a  few  instances,  are  set  down  as  though 
they  bore  the  seal  of  general  acceptance. 

It  is  worth  noting  that,  at  best,  such  a  publication  as  this  cannot 
remain  accurate  as  an  up-to-date  statement  of  facts.  It  is  no 
sooner  oflE  the  press  than  it  begins  to  fall  behind  the  times.  New 
laws  are  enacted,  new  ideas  put  into  practice  and  old  discarded. 
The  entire  body  of  charitable  effort  throughout  the  world  is  in  a 
state  of  flux,  and  a  picture  of  it  at  any  moment  must  be  a  "  snap- 
shot," differing  in  countless  details  from  any  preceding  or  subsequent 
picture.  This  obvious  fact  is  mentioned  because  it  tends  to  minimize 
the  importance  of  most  of  the  errors  which  have  found  place  in  the 
book.  That  all  the  information  in  its  715  pages  is  not  brought  down 
to  precisely  the  same  date  line  will  seem  a  smaller  mistake  with  each 
succeeding  year.  When  we  cease  trying  to  make  the  descriptions  in 
the  book  fit  minutely  the  comparatively  unimportant  details  of  the 
institutions  about  us,  and  come  to  regard  the  publication  as  a  com- 
prehensive picture  of  the  charitable  activities  of  the  world  at  the 
beginning  of  the  twentieth  century,  we  shall  appreciate  better  than 
now  how  faithfully,  in  all  important  aspects,  the  great  task  has  been 
accomplished. 

Ernest  P.  Bicknell. 

Chicago  Bureau  of  Charities. 


Our  Own  Times:  A  Continuous  History  of  the  Twentieth  Cen- 
tury.    Edited  by  Hazlitt  Alva  Cuppy,  and  a  Board  of 
Special  Editors.     Vol.  I,  by  Bonnister  Merwin.     New 
York :  J.  A.  Hill  &  Co.    Pp.  xv  -f  453. 
The  central  idea  of  the  enterprise  of  which  this  volume  is  the 
first  fruit  may  be  described  as  a  design  to  do  year  by  year  what 
Dr.  Albert  Shaw  does  month  by  month  in  his  comments  upon  current 
events  in  the  Review  of  Reviews.    As  the  publishers'  announcement 
suggests,  the  perspective  of  a  single  year  may  turn  out  to  be  different 
from  that  of  a  century ;  and  it  is  equally  true  that  a  year  will  change 
the  assortment  of  things  worth  remarking  from  month  to  month. 
Accordingly  a  volume  made  by  binding  together  the  most  sagacious 


REVIEWS  429 

monthly  surveys  of  a  year's  events  would  not  displace  this  history. 
Even  if  there  were  no  variations  from  the  general  plan  of  the 
monthly  review,  the  wider  outlook  of  a  year  would  necessarily  recon- 
struct the  material. 

The  present  work  is  novel,  however,  in  more  than  its  plan  of 
reporting  a  single  year  at  a  time.  It  has  its  own  classification  of  the 
events  to  be  reported.  It  assumes  a  theorem  about  the  relative  value 
of  historical  occurrences,  and  about  the  relations  in  which  the  events 
recorded  may  most  profitably  be  presented.  It  is  an  adventure  in  the 
making  of  history  upon  a  sociological  presumption,  virtually  new  to 
historians.  That  premise  is  that  the  instruction  to  be  gained  from 
general  history  would  be  most  available  if  the  facts  were  told,  not 
nationally,  but  in  their  relations  to  civilization  in  general ;  and, 
further,  that  the  facts  may  be  assembled  most  advantageously  around 
four  principal  human  interests,  viz. :  first,  man's  interest  in  con- 
trolling himself  and  his  surroundings  ;  second,  his  interest  in  learning 
more  about  himself  and  his  surroundings ;  third,  his  interest  in 
improving  himself  and  his  surroundings ;  fourth,  his  interest  in 
enjoying  the  beautiful. 

Nothing  has  occurred  to  shake  my  belief  that  the  best  division  of 
human  interests  for  ordinary  purposes  is  the  sixfold  grouping  — 
health,  wealth,  sociability,  knowledge,  beauty,  and  Tightness.  The 
first  three  are  the  chief  forms  of  objective  appropriation  of  the  life- 
conditions  ;  the  second  three,  the  subjective  forms.  While  it  would 
be  easy  to  give  reasons  for  preferring  this  classification  to  Dr. 
Cuppy's,  his  scheme  is  such  an  evident  improvement  upon  the  con- 
ventional historical  categories,  and  it  serves  so  well  in  arranging  the 
memorable  achievements  of  the  year  to  which  the  classification  is 
applied,  that  it  would  savor  of  hypercriticism  to  press  the  issue. 

The  present  volume  is  devoted  to  the  year  1901.  To  indicate 
most  directly  the  scope  of  the  book,  we  quote  the  chapter  titles,  viz. : 
"  The  Keynote  of  the  New  Century,"  "  The  New  American  Posses- 
sions," "The  Trend  of  National  Energies,"  "The  South  African 
War,"  "The  Chinese  Problem,"  "The  International  Web,"  "The 
Year's  Legislation,"  "  Conflicting  National  Elements,"  "  Political 
Changes,"  "  The  Work  of  the  Explorer,"  "  Achievements  in  Science," 
"  The  Work  of  the  Inventor,"  "  The  War  against  Disease,"  "  Reli- 
gion," "  Education,"  "  Miscellaneous  Social  Changes,"  "  Books  and 
Plays,"  "  Art  and  Music."  An  appendix  of  thirty-eight  pages  con- 
tains:   "The  Year  of  Sports,"  "The  Nobel  Prizes,"  "Prominent 


430  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Persons  Who  Died  in  1901,"  "  General  Statistics,"  "  Financial  Sta- 
tistics," "Railroad  Mileage,"  "Corn  and  Wheat  Crops,"  "Arma- 
ments of  the  Nations,"  "  Immigration  into  the  United  States," 
"Religious  Statistics."  There  are  good  maps  (a)  of  the  Philippine 
Islands;  (6)  of  central  and  southern  Africa;  (c)  of  China,  Japan, 
and  Korea.  There  are  fifty-three  illustrations,  nearly  all  full-page, 
and  the  majority  of  them  excellent  pictures  of  persons  prominent 
during  the  year  1901.  The  editor  had  the  assistance  of  sixteen  men 
named  as  "  The  Advisory  Council."  But  for  a  single  circumstance, 
I  should  say  without  hesitation  that  the  advice  of  these  men  must 
have  increased  the  value  of  the  book. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  if  we  had  a  census  of  the  people  who  do 
now  or  ever  will  take  an  interest  in  the  year  1901,  we  should  have 
the  exact  number  of  persons  who  would  feel  able  to  point  out  inclu- 
sions of  the  less  worthy  and  omissions  of  the  more  worthy.  I  have 
not  yet  been  able  to  examine  the  volume  carefully  enough  to  make 
out  my  own  bill  of  particulars.  Whether  I  am  able  later  to  locate 
important  over-  or  under-sights,  I  am  satisfied  that  the  history  must 
be  accepted  on  demand  as  a  sheer  necessity  for  everybody  who  has 
occasion  to  refer  to  recent  events.  I  cannot  see  how  any  editorial 
office,  except  of  the  patent-inside  variety,  can  do  without  it.  I  already 
feel  toward  it  very  much  as  I  do  toward  the  index  that  changed  my 
pamphlets  from  rubbish  to  equipment.  That  every  reference  library 
must  have  the  series  goes  without  saying.  Dr.  Cuppy  should  have 
the  hearty  gratitude  of  every  literary  worker. 

A.  W.  S. 


A  Modern  Utopia.     By  H.  G.  Wells.     Pp.  xii  +  393-     New 
York:    Charles  Scribner's  Sons.    $1.50  net. 

The  visible  use  of  Utopias  is  to  make  readers  temporarily  forget 
their  present  grievances,  and  contemplate  the  program  of  revolt 
which  they  would  promote  if  the  imaginary  conditions  were  realized. 
Nothing  is  more  obnoxious  to  present  human  nature  than  a  presump- 
tion of  social  conditions  fixed  beyond  chance  of  change. 

Mr.  Wells  hardly  reckons  on  being  understood  as  having  com- 
pleted plans  and  specifications  of  a  perfect  world.  Like  most  utopists, 
he  has  indicated  a  series  of  modifications  which  in  his  opinion  would 
increase  the  aggregate  of  human  happiness.  Since  tastes  diflfer,  it  is 
always  an  open  question  whether  the  result  in  practice  would  increase 


REVIEWS  431 

or  diminish  satisfaction.  Few  of  us  would  deny  that  there  is  room 
for  improvement  in  the  management  of  hotels,  but  we  are  not  all 
agreed  that  the  use  of  a  single  language  would  be  either  cause  or 
effect  of  wholly  desirable  social  conditions.  Few  of  us  would  deny 
that  the  people  of  the  world  should  get  together  in  a  thousand  ways 
not  at  present  practicable.  Not  many  of  us  can  entertain  without  a 
shudder  the  thought  of  actually  averaging  ourselves  in  a  mechanical 
federation  of  the  world.  We  all  believe  in  improving  governmental 
efficiency.  Most  of  us  would  prefer  a  regime  of  drum-head  courts  to 
a  reign  of  such  priggism  as  the  officials  in  Mr.  Wells's  picture  exhibit. 
As  a  rhetorical  device  for  getting  attention  for  social  theorems  that 
would  attract  no  notice  in  the  abstract,  Utopias  may  still  be  available. 
We  can  discover  nothing  in  this  sample,  however,  that  goes  beyond 
good-natured  satire  of  conditions  which  none  would  be  so  poor  as  to 
defend. 

A.  W.  S. 


The  Labor  Movement  in  America.    By  Richard  T.  Ely.    New 
Edition,  revised  and  enlarged.    New  York :    The  Macmillan 
Co.    Pp.  xvi  +  399- 
Although  this  book  is  nearly  twenty  years  old,  it  is  still  timely, 
and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  author  will  be  able  to  carry  out  his 
purpose  of  enlarging  its  scope,  and  bringing  the  history  down  to 
date.    At  present  we  have  no  book  that  could  be  a  satisfactory  substi- 
tute for  Professor  Ely's  volume. 

A.  W.  S. 


RECENT  LITERATURE 


BOOKS 


Addams,  Jane.  Newer  ideals  of  peace. 
[Citizen's  Lib.  of  Econ.,  Pol.  and 
Sociol.]  Macmillan.  $1.25  net. 
[Announced.] 

Amital,  L.  K.  La  sociologie  selon  la 
legislation   juive.      Paris.      Fr.    5. 

Arbeiterversicherung,  Die  deutsche,  als 
soziale  Einrichtung.  2.  Aufl.,  im 
Auftrage  des  Reichs-Versicherungs- 
amts  f.  den  VIL  intemationalen 
Arbeiterversicherungs-Kongress  in 
Wien  1905  bearb.  v.  A.  Bielefeldt,  K. 
Hartmann,  G.  A.  Klein,  L.  Lass,  F. 
Fahn.     Berlin:    A.  Asher  &  Co.     M. 

1.75- 

Blackmar,  F.  W.  Elements  of  soci- 
ology. Macmillan.  $1.25  net.  [An- 
nounced.] 

Bourdeau,  J.  Socialistes  et  socio- 
logues.     Paris.     Fr.   2.50. 

Burbarich,  Eug.  Albania :  monografia 
antropogeografica.      Roma.      L.    15. 

Calcedonio,  Ciaccio.  La  questione  so- 
ciale.     Palermo :    Vena.     L.  2.50. 

Dealey,  J  .L.  Textbook  of  sociology. 
London.    Ca.  85. 

Demeur,  M.  Reparation  et  assurance 
des  accidents  du  travail.  2  vols. 
Paris.     Fr.   14. 

Engels,  Fr.  Les  origines  de  la  societe : 
famille,  propriete  privee,  etat.  Paris. 
Fr.  3.50. 

Fanciulli,  G.  L'individuo  nei  suoi  rap- 
porti  sociali.     Torino.     L.  3. 

Faraggiana,  G.  L'emigrazione :  studio 
economico  legislative.  Empoli :  Tra- 
versal.    L.  2.50. 

Fry,  L.  C.  Catechism  of  Karl  Marx's 
"  Capital :  a  critical  analysis  of  capi- 
talist production."  St.  Louis :  Eco- 
nomic  Pub.  Co.     Pap.  $0.50. 

Giddings,  F.  H.  Readings  in  descrip- 
tive and  historical  sociology.  Mac- 
millan.    [Announced.]       , 

Grassi  Bertazzi,  G.  B.  II  metodo 
positive  e  I'influenza  del  fattore  so- 
ciale  nella  psicologia.  Catania,  1904. 
L.   1.50. 

Guillon,  J.  L'6migration  des  cam- 
pagnes  vers  les  villes  et  ses  conse- 
quences economiques  et  sociales. 
Paris.     Fr.   12. 


Hall,  G.     Divorce.     London.     40J. 

Hamon,  A.  Socialisme  et  anarchisme. 
Paris.     Fr.  3.50. 

Hostos,  E.  M.  de.  Tratado  de  socio- 
logia.     Madrid.     Pp.  273. 

Howe,  F.  C.  The  city :  the  hope  of 
democracy.      Scribner.      $1.50    net. 

Jahrbuch  der  Wohnungsreform  im 
Jahre  1904.  2.  Jahrg.  Unter  Mit- 
wirkg.  V.  Dr.  K.  v.  Mangoldt  verf.  v. 
Otto  Meissgeier.  Hrsg.  v.  deutschen 
Verein  f.  Wohnungsreform  (Verein 
Reichs-Wohnungsgesetz).  Gottingen : 
Vanderhoeck  u.  Ruprecht.     M.    i. 

Kobke,  V.  Grundzuge  der  Arbeiter- 
versicherung  (Kranken-,  Invaliden- 
u.  Unfallversicherung)  m.  besond. 
Beriicksicht.  d.  preuss.  Ausfiihr- 
ungsbestimmungen.  Berlin :         O. 

Salle.     M.  3. 

Krukenberg,  E.  Die  Frauenbewegung, 
ihre  Ziele  und  ihre  Bedeutung.  Tu- 
bingen.    M.  3. 

Lopez  Tuero,  Fd.  Tratado  de  socio- 
logia  agricola.     Madrid.     Pp.   335. 

Meotti,  E.  L'emigrazione  temporanea  : 
consequenze  religiose  in  Italia  e 
I'opera  di  mons  Bonomelli.  Bologna : 
Mareggiani. 

Miceli,  V.  Le  fonti  del  diritto  dal 
punto  di  vista  psichico  sociale.  Pa- 
lermo.    L.  4. 

Morasso,  M.  L'imperialismo  nel  secolo 
XX.     Milano.     L.  5. 

Pisa,  G.  II  problema  religioso  del 
nostro  tempo.     Milano.     L.  3.50. 

Porena,  M.  Che  cosa  e  il  bello  ? : 
schema  di  un'estetica  psicologica. 
Milano :    Hoepli.     L.  6.50. 

Quanter,  Rud.  Deutsches  Zuchthaus- 
u.  Gefangniswesen  von  den  altesten 
Zeiten  bis  an  die  Gegenwart.  Leip- 
zig:   Leipziger  Verlag.     M.   i. 

Retzbach,  A.  Die  soziale  Frage.  Frei- 
burg i.  Br.     M.  2.50. 

Rol,  A.  L'evolution  du  divorce.  Paris. 
Fr.   10. 

Schmitz,  L.,  and  Wichmann,  A.  Die 
Eheschliessung  im  intemationalen 
Verkehr.     2  Bde.     Meiderich.     M.  9. 

Small,  A.  W.  General  sociology :  an 
exposition  of  the  main  development 


432 


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433 


in  sociological  theory  from  Spencer 
to  Ratzenhofer.  Chicago :  Univer- 
sity of  Chicago  Press.     $4  net. 

Smythe,  W.  E.  Constructive  democ- 
racy :  the  economics  of  a  square  deal. 
Macmillan.      $1.50    net. 

Stang,  W.  Socialism  and  Christianity. 
New   York.     Pp.   207. 

Tovar,  de.  Estudios  sociales.  Madrid. 
Pp.  179- 

"Warner,  G.  H.  The  Jewish  spectre. 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.  $1.50  net. 
["  The   human  being  is  the  thing."] 


Weissenbach,  P.  Die  Eisenbahnver- 
stattlichung  in  der  Schweiz.  Berlin. 
M.  4. 

Wikmark,  E.  Die  Frauenfrage :  eine 
okonomisch-soziologische  Untersuch- 
ung  unter  spezieller  Beriicksicht.  des 
schwedischen  Biirgertums.  Halle. 
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Zacher.  Die  Arbeiter-Versicherung  im 
Auslande.  Heft  5a.  Die  Arbeiter- 
Versicherung  in  Grossbritannien.  i 
Nachtrag  zu  Heft  5,  bearb.  von.  H. 
W.  Wolff.  Grunewald-Berlin.  M. 
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NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS 


A  Sociological  View  of  Taxation. —  There  are  three  points  from  which  to 
view  taxation  —  financial,  economic,  sociological.  The  latter  is  most  compre- 
hensive, so  much  so  that  we  may  get  guidance  from  the  laws  of  nature.  Looking, 
then,  to  natural  laws,  we  find  that  energy  is  taxed ;  every  living  being  must  exert 
energy  to  secure  food  and  sustenance.  The  law  of  nature  is :  Diminish  taxation 
as  ability  increases ;  the  law  of  economics  is :  Increase  taxation  as  ability 
increases.  The  lower  we  descend  the  scale  of  life,  the  greater  is  the  proportion 
which  nature's  tax  bears  to  the  entire  energy  of  the  individual.  It  is  the  same  in 
the  human  race,  no  matter  whether  the  individuals  are  free  or  restricted.  As  the 
standard  of  ability  rises,  the  individual  units  exert  a  greater  modifying  effect  on 
this  law ;  the  higher  the  order,  the  greater  the  voluntary  effort  exerted  by  the 
strong  for  the  weak.  This  modification  of  nature's  law  or  nature's  system  of 
taxation  renders  the  subject  before  us  complex. 

The  question  is  how  much  shall  we  superiors  tax  our  energies  for  our  wasteful 
inferiors?  What  shall  we  expect  in  return  for  such  tax?  What  is  the  object  of 
giving  support  to  the  useless  members  of  society?  Of  course,  "  faith,  charity,  and 
humanity,"  are  answers.  , 

In  generosity  economists  believe  perhaps  the  weak  and  inferiors  are  subjects 
of  the  existing  system  of  government.  What  kind  of  government  interference  is 
desirable  ?  Professor  A.  W.  Flux  points  out  two  fallacies :  first,  thinking  what 
benefits  the  individual  will  benefit  the  whole  community  —  it  may  be  an  injury  to 
the  community ;  second,  that  the  individual  will  always  devote  himself  to  what  is 
best  for  him ;  he  does  not  always  know  what  is  best  for  him.  Now,  why  should 
the  government  concern  itself  with  the  welfare  of  those  incapable  of  judging  their 
own  best  interests  ?  Because  humane,  and  because  "  state  outlay  is  a  part  of  the 
consumption  of  society,  of  which  the  state  is  the  regulating  organ."  The  state  is 
justified  in  providing  for  requirements  by  means  of  taxation.  Sociological  inquiry 
wants  to  know  the  nature  of  those  requirements,  in  order  to  promote  the  greatest 
social  and  evolutionary  advancement.  Now,  on  what  principle  should  our  system 
of  taxation  be  based  ? 

The  source  of  all  prosperity  is  power  to  produce  "  productive  goods."  We 
go  beyond  this  to  seek  the  principle  by  which  the  energies  may  be  directed, 
through  taxation,  so  as  to  secure  control  and  increase  that  control  over  the  forces 
of  nature.  We  call  this  "  giving-power,"  which  means  not  only  power  to  produce 
productive  goods,  but  also  such  an  application  of  energy  as  to  increase  its  own 
self.  Each  individual  should  conserve  to  himself  an  average  giving-power,  and  an 
average  giving-power  to  increase  the  community.  Our  system  of  taxation  should 
encourage  mutual  helpfulness  by  conserving  the  energy  of  those  making  personal 
sacrifice  for  all,  and  also  diminish  the  energy  of  those  consuming  without  return. 

Present  taxation  is  not  synonymous  with  voluntary  sacrifice ;  it  implies  com- 
pulsion. Professor  Bastable's  definition  is  "  a  compulsory  contribution  of  the 
wealth  of  a  person  for  the  service  of  the  public  powers."  Parting  with  ill-got 
gain  is  not  a  sacrifice  proportional  to  parting  with  the  physical  necessities  of  the 
wage-earner.  To  define  the  sociological  ideal  of  taxation,  the  word  "  energy  "  must 
be  substituted  for  the  word  "  wealth "  in  Professor  Bastable's  definition.  To 
make  a  willing  sacrifice  of  giving-power  for  a  tax  would  make  a  complete  change 
in  our  social  system. 

Ethical  considerations  introduced  into  taxation  make  a  paradox.  But  the 
problem  is  not  what  the  individual  should  do  or  be  made  to  do,  but  what  the  state 
should  do  in  the  matter  of  taxation.  The  sociological  solution  is :  the  state  should 
make  the  individual  conserve  giving-power.  The  state  should  make  the  individual 
save  the  energy  so  easily  wasted,  then  collect  a  tax  in  accordance  with  ability. 
The  best  way  to  impress  the  unconscious  wasters  of  evolutionary  power  is  through 

435 


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taxation.    Taxation  would  then  serve  two  purposes :   first,  secure  revenue ;   second, 
direct  the  energies  of  the  people  most  profitably. 

Glance  at  some  of  our  taxes  in  the  light  of  these  principles.  The  income  tax 
is  not  according  to  ability ;  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  tax  on  wasting  securities. 
The  "  estate  duties  "  cause  much  hardship.  Rates  fall  hard  on  persons  with  large 
families.  These  taxes  serve  the  first  purpose,  but  not  the  second  purpose  of 
taxation.  These  taxes  diminish  the  demand  for  labor ;  direct  and  indirect  taxes 
finally  cause  wages  to  fall. 

We  would  not  want  a  tax  solely  on  the  rich.  Taxation,  to  be  productive, 
must  draw  on  the  resources  of  the  middle  and  working  classes  ;  such  taxes  would 
represent  energy.  It  is  bad  economy  to  take  in  taxes,  energy  which  could  more 
profitably  be  employed  by  individuals  than  by  the  state  so  long  as  energy  unpro- 
ductively  applied  by  individuals  still  remains  available  to  the  state. 

If  we  tax  unproductive  luxuries  in  every  part  of  the  world,  and  leave  untaxed 
the  necessities,  including  those  things  needed  for  their  production,  this  will  set 
free  a  large  amount  of  land  and  labor  to  produce  the  necessities.  Don't  let  the 
amount  of  land  and  labor  released  by  taxation  exceed  the  amount  needed  for  the 
demand  of  necessities ;  then  the  wages  paid  on  producing  the  necessities  will  never 
fall  below  the  amount  needed  to  purchase  necessities. 

Under  existing  conditions,  the  objections  to  this  system  are:  (i)  It  does  not 
follow  that  all  available  labor  would  be  employed.  (2)  A  country  not  able  to  pro- 
duce enough  necessities  must  give  luxuries.  (3)  The  natural  demand  for  neces- 
sities is  always  greater  than  the  economic  demand,  and  always  exceeds  the  supply. 
None  of  the  objections  are  insuperable. 

To  establish  a  just  system  of  taxation  providing  for  the  welfare  of  all  the 
people,  the  government  should  be  open  to  employ  all  free  labor ;  also  acquire  land 
on  which  to  produce  the  necessities  of  life  for  those  in  need,  and  tax  the  luxuries 
to  provide  this.  As  it  is,  we  have  free  education  for  children  too  hungry  to  learn. 
The  prosperity  of  the  nation  does  not  seem  to  improve  the  condition  of  the 
unskilled  laborer,  but  does  increase  the  earnings  of  the  skilled.  Many  earn  just 
enough  to  keep  alive,  not  enough  to  keep  in  full  vigor  of  mind  and  body.  This 
is  a  waste  of  giving-power.  Society  must  make  provision  for  bodily  sustenance  to 
attain  the  highest  efficiency.  This  can  be  done  through  the  government  taxing  the 
surplus  energy.  Each  member  must  also  be  fully  nourished ;  this  can  be  derived 
from  the  energy,  taxed  by  scientific  government  distribution. 

This  is  the  elementary  principle  that  should  underlie  scientific  taxation. — 
Walter  Howgrave,  in  Westminster  Review,  September,  1905. 

S.  E.  W.  B. 

The  Ethics  of  Marriage  and  Divorce. —  Marriage  is  essentially  neither  a 
religious  nor  a  civil  institution,  but  a  purely  biological  one.  Marriage  is  a  creature 
neither  of  the  church  nor  of  the  state ;  it  antedates  them  both.  Marriage  created 
both.  The  Decalogue  and  common  law  simply  recognize  it.  The  law  has  been 
content  to  leave  it  as  found,  but  the  church  has  done  what  she  could  to  make  it 
unnatural  and  intolerable.  While  the  church  deserves  great  credit  for  insisting 
on  the  "  sanctity,"  her  contempt  for  reason  has  led  to  an  insistence  on  its 
irrevocability  to  the  extent  of  disaster  to  both  morals  and  happiness.  The  conten- 
tion of  the  church  to  make  marriage  for  life  is  admirable,  but  to  insist  on  the 
irrevocability  of  the  tie,  and  on  divorced  persons  not  marrying,  is  absurd. 

Consider  the  origin  of  marriage  and  its  existence  among  the  races.  Looking 
backward,  primitive  man,  although  with  promiscuous  proclivities,  is  monogamous. 
The  anthropoid  ape  is  monogamous  —  probably  for  life;  also  the  higher  monkeys 
and  lemurs.     Monogamy  is  the  condition  among  almost  all  pure  savages. 

The  condition  of  the  marriage  tie  among  savages  may  be  roughly  stated  thus : 
It  is  loose  monogamy,  lasting  at  least  during  child-bearing  and  in  a  majority  of 
cases  for  life.  As  the  tribes  rise  in  the  scale,  they  accumulate  property  and  have 
need  of  help  ;  this  gives  occasion  for  slavery  and  polygamy.  It  is  safe  to  say  that 
a  large  majority  of  barbaric  tribes  permit  and  indulge  in  polygamy  to  a  certain 
extent. 

The  advantages  of  polygamy  are  these:  (i)  the  successful  man  forms  influen- 
tial relationships  through  marriages  ;    (2)  it  increases  his  influence  on  the  make-up 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  437 

of  the  next  generation  ;  (3)  it  means  an  imposing  household.  Its  disadvantages 
are  these:  (i)  it  destroys  paternal  training  of  the  young;  (2)  the  quality  of 
oif spring  deteriorates;  (3)  the  management  in  the  polygamous  household  devolves 
on  slaves ;  (4)  when  the  head  of  a  polygamous  family  dies,  there  is  complete  dis- 
ruption and  no  head  to  succeed.  There  is  small  possibility  of  the  development  of 
noted  families. 

Polyandry  seems  to  offer  no  advantage  to  the  race,  yet  it  is  practiced. 

Our  study  of  the  origin  and  growth  of  marriage  leads  us  to  feelings  of  the 
profoundest  respect  and  confidence  toward  monogamy.  Its  bindings  are  just  as 
strong  on  evolutionary  grounds  as  on  legal  or  ecclesiastical.  Its  prevalence  rests 
on  the  decree  of  no  prince  or  pope,  but  upon  inherent  superiority.  This  evolution- 
ary sanction  is  not  low  nor  selfish  ;  it  looks  to  the  interests  of  no  man  or  woman, 
but  to  those  of  the  children,  i.  e.,  the  race.  Biology  declares  as  a  guide  to  probable 
racial  suitability  of  a  mate,  sexual  instinct,  ennobled  by  generations  of  monogamy ; 
marriage  should  be  "  for  love."  Moreover,  on  biological  grounds  we  would 
hesitate  to  dissolve  a  union,  suitable  and  fit  in  racial  respects,  on  any  personal 
grounds,  or  imaginary  loss  of  affection. 

Thus  far  evolutionary  ethics  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  law  and  the 
church ;  but  here  they  part.  Holding  that  unions  should  be  for  life,  or  till  the 
children  are  trained  and  sent  into  the  world,  and  that  only  for  grave  reasons 
should  they  be  dissolved,  we  have  no  sympathy  for  the  churchly  fanaticism 
declaring  that  divorces  are  always  evil  and  that  the  divorced  should  never  marry. 
We  claim  that  divorce  is  not  yet  easy  enough.  Conditions  where  epilepsy,  insanity, 
etc.,  are  discovered  are  enough  for  the  marital  relations  to  be  immoral.  Adultery 
on  the  part  of  the  woman  is  recognized  by  the  church  as  ground  for  divorce.  This 
is  as  far  as  the  church  goes.  The  law  goes  farther,  recognizing  most  of  the 
biological  demands  for  dissolution  of  the  tie.  But  this  avails  little,  especially  for 
the  woman,  who  is  the  most  frequent  sufferer,  so  long  as  the  antiquated  standards 
of  the  clergy  control  society.  The  divorced  woman  is  looked  upon  as  disgraced. 
There  is  another  point  where  the  liberty  of  the  woman  is  limited,  i.  e.,  the  problem 
of  support  for  herself  and  children.  A  decree  of  alimony  is  of  little  value  save 
where  property  can  be  seized. 

Many  a  woman  is  living  with  a  brutal  husband,  bearing  children  with  his 
vicious  traits,  because  she  knows  not  where  to  turn  for  the  necessities  of  life. 
The  church  urges  her  to  "  save  "  the  soul  of  the  "  brute,"  but  any  woman  who 
knowingly  bears  a  child  to  a  drunken  or  criminal  husband  is  herself  committing  a 
crime  against  the  state. 

We  have  funds  for  taking  care  of  the  bastard  and  orphan,  but  practically  none 
for  the  support  of  legitimate  children  of  noble  mothers  who  need  protection  against 
vicious  fathers. 

Many  are  the  ecclesiastical  shrieks  against  the  increase  in  divorces,  but  one- 
half  now  obtained  are  evening  up  old  scores  of  ten  to  twenty  years  of  legal  outrage 
and  ecclesiasticism.  Over  70  per  cent,  of  divorces  are  on  the  ground  of  cruel 
treatment.  Two-thirds  of  the  divorces  are  on  grounds  valid  for  biological  and 
racial  reasons.  The  increase  in  divorces  is  a  benefit,  not  an  evil.  The  propor- 
tion of  divorces  to  marriages  is  12  per  cent.  Can  any  other  institution  of  church 
or  state  show  a  record  of  88  per  cent,  success  ?  There  is  no  need  for  fear  so  long 
as  the  limit  is  20  to  25  per  cent.  The  law  or  ceremony  no  more  holds  people 
together  than  varnish  holds  furniture  together.  If  all  marriages  were  declared  off, 
within  forty-eight  hours  eight-tenths  would  be  remarried,  and  seven-tenths  could 
not  be  kept  apart  by  bayonets. —  Woods  Hutchinson,  in  Contemporary  Review, 
September,  1905.  S.  E.  W.  B. 

Regulation  of  Home-Shop  Production. —  The  legislation  in  France  which 
regulates  the  industries  makes  no  mention  of  the  home  shop ;  the  legislator  has 
not  felt  it  his  right  to  enter  the  private  domicile.  Only  two  conditions  give  the 
inspector  the  right  to  enter:  (i)  the  use  of  a  motor  nfachine,  and  (2)  unsanitary 
conditions.     Farther  than  this,  there  are  no  restrictions  on  such  production. 

By  the  centralization  of  industry,  it  is  the  single  laborer,  the  artisan,  not  the 
home  shop,  which  has  suffered.     The  latter  is  constantly  increasing.     Its  progress 


438 


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constitutes  a  systematic  eflFort  at  decentralization.  The  small  electric  motor 
favors  this  form  of  labor,  and  decreases  the  superiority  of  the  shop  over  the  home. 

The  legislature  of  1892  was  too  lenient  when  it  made  this  form  of  production 
an  exception  to  the  regulations  then  passed.  Students  of  sociology  and  hygiene 
have  spoken  against  home  production,  not  so  much  because  of  the  principle  as 
because  it  offers  such  favorable  opportunities  for  exploiting  the  labor  of  children, 
for  overworking  and  underpaying  laborers,  etc.  Now  the  protection  of  children  is 
guaranteed  by  the  school  and  health  laws,  if  they  are  properly  enforced.  The 
sweating  system  is  that  which  stands  in  greatest  need  of  remedy. 

Some,  especially  socialistic  writers,  have  demanded  the  entire  suppression  of 
such  centers  of  labor.  That  would  be  unjust ;  for  to  many  it  is  more  agreeable  and 
more  productive  than  shop  labor.  It  is  neither  possible  nor  desirable  to  prohibit. 
Should  it,  then,  be  regulated?  Attempts  have  been  made  so  to  do,  but  the  right  of 
private  domicile  stands  in  the  way  and  would  have  to  be  revised  first. 

But  many  shops  can  be  regulated,  as  it  is.  Every  employer  who  uses  a  laborer, 
not  a  member  of  his  own  family,  converts  his  home  shop  into  one  that  comes  under 
all  the  regulations  of  thte  larger  shops.  By  requiring  lists  of  all  those  employed 
by  any  one  patron,  and  their  addresses,  the  inspector  of  labor  can  trace  their 
identity. 

Why  restrict  the  regulation  to  motor  machines?  This  has  been  asked  by 
many.  Some  have  said  that  it  is  unnecessary,  for  most  of  those  who  carry  on 
home  labor  have  not  the  resources  to  provide  such  a  machine ;  and  even  if  they 
have,  it  cannot  be  installed  without  requiring  a  separate  shop,  in  which  case  they 
come  at  once  under  proper  regulation.  But  these  people  forget  about  the  electric 
motor,  which  is  neither  noisy,  dangerous,  nor  unhandy.  A  little  motor  fastened  to 
the  wall  appears  less  a  machine  than  an  ornament.  The  installation  of  such  a 
machine  as  this  becomes  the  signal  for  inspectors  to  enter.  But  out  of  380,000 
home  shops  in  1896,  only  164  had  motors,  and  these  were,  of  course,  among  those 
who  left  least  to  be  desired  in  the  conditions  of  production ;  and  thus  the  sweat- 
shop evil  is  not  reached. 

Justice  and  logic  demand  the  same :  neither  to  neglect  all  regulation  of  the 
home  shop,  nor  to  throw  it  into  the  same  class  as  all  others.  A  practical  question 
presents  itself  in  the  difficulty  of  tabulating  and  visiting  all  these  home  shops ;  it 
will  require  a  great  increase  in  the  force,  and  a  corresponding  increase  of  expense. 
Again,  we  must  come  to  some  decision  about  the  private  family  life.  Anyone  who 
employs  others  than  his  family  lays  himself  open  to  inspection  ;  but  where  the 
family  life  and  the  shop  life  are  really  one,  what  is  to  be  done?  The  inspector 
should  be  empowered  to  enter  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night,  in  order  that  he 
may  really  accomplish  his  end.  It  would  seem  impossible  to  reduce  the  work  in  the 
family  to  a  regime,  as  is  done  in  the  shop ;  thus  regulations  for  overwork  are 
difficult ;  and  where  a  laborer  works  for  several  employers,  which  is  to  be  held 
responsible  for  abuses,  the  laborer  or  the  employers ;  and  if  the  latter,  which  of 
them  ? 

Exorbitant  in  principle,  vexatious  in  application,  the  regulation  of  family 
labor  would  be  lacking  in  results.  Any  regulation  under  the  present  view  of  the 
case  would  be  a  dead  letter,  a  simple  declaration  of  principle,  a  pure  form  devoid 
of  imperative  virtue  and  paralyzed  by  lack  of  sanction. — J.  Cavaille,  "  Faut-il  regle- 
menter  le  travail  des  ateliers  de  famille  ? "  Revue  politique  et  parlementaire, 
September,  1905.  D.  E.  T. 

Legal  Status  of  Labor  Unions  in  The  United  States. —  Down  to  the  time 
of  the  Revolution,  any  banding  together  of  laborers  in  this  country  for  the  purpose 
of  bettering  their  conditions  was  considered  by  the  common  law  opposed  to  the 
common  well-being  and  a  conspiracy  against  the  limitations  on  trades  and  business, 
and  anyone  who  took  part  in  the  same  was  punishable.  A  single  laborer  might 
refuse  to  perform  a  given  piece  of  work  under  given  specifications ;  but  when  two 
or  more  combined  for  any  purpose  of  benefit  to  themselves,  they  were  guilty. 
Since  the  Revolution,  seldom  have  such  unions  been  called  in  question.  At  the 
present  time,  only  the  motives  of  violence,  intimidation,  and  fraud  can  prevent 
men  from  combining  to  accomplish  their  purposes.     Several  of  the  states  have 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  439 

passed  laws  expressly  regulating  such  unions ;  others  have  taken  legal  measures 
to  limit  and  protect  them,  and  to  grant  to  them  special  privileges.  In  most  states 
their  legal  rights  as  corporations  are  defined,  and  Congress,  by  an  act  of  June  29, 
1886,  defined  "  national  trades-unions,"  requiring  that  such  corporations  should  have 
their  headquarters  in  the  District  of  Columbia. 

All  states  grant  the  right  of  peaceable  assembly,  the  general  limitation  on  all 
such  gatherings  being  the  motive  of  violence  to  the  rights  of  others,  or  trans- 
gression of  the  law  concerning  mobs  and  conspiracies.  The  right  of  any  man  to 
labor  or  employ  labor  must  not  be  interfered  with.  If  a  state  has  no  law  on  this 
point,  any  emergency  is  met  by  the  right  of  injunction. 

Strikes  are  fully  permissible,  if  they  are  voluntary  co-operations  of  persons 
for  the  purpose  of  bettering  their  conditions,  or  of  changing  the  existing  status  by 
proper  means  ;  they  are  unlawful,  if  they  have  a  purpose  of  evil.  An  organization 
may  call  out  its  workers,  unless  some  special  form  of  contract  exist,  even  though 
it  do  great  harm  to  the  business  of  the  employer ;  provided  only  that  some  violence 
to  the  employer  is  not  intended.     The  strike  would  then  become  a  conspiracy. 

Nine  states  have  special  laws  forbidding  locomotive  engineers  wilfully  to 
abandon  their  engines  except  at  the  regular  destination ;  also  forbidding  anyone 
or  any  body  of  persons  to  intimidate,  impede,  or  obstruct,  except  by  due  course  of 
law,  the  regular  business  of  any  railroad. 

It  is  unlawful  to  use  force  or  violence  to  compel  a  laborer  either  to  quit  work 
or  to  join  a  union.  Many  states  make  it  a  punishable  offense  for  a  union  or  an 
individual  to  intimidate  an  employer  or  a  laborer,  with  the  purpose  of  hindering 
the  undertaking  or  carrying  out  of  a  proper  task.  Here  again  the  right  of  injunc- 
tion may  be  used,  if  the  case  demands  it. 

The  practice  of  "  picketing,"  within  certain  determined  limits,  is  forbidden  by 
national  and  state  laws,  and  violation  permits  injunction. 

Nearly  all  the  states  have  passed  laws  permitting  unions  to  use  special  labels 
or  trade-marks  to  distinguish  their  products,  and  forbidding  other  persons  and 
unions  to  imitate  them.  In  five  states  it  is  unlawful  for  anyone  falsely  to  exhibit 
the  insignia  of  any  union,  and  in  some  states  this  applies  more  specifically  to 
railway  employees. 

Most  of  the  states  have  laws  to  the  effect  that  it  is  a  misdemeanor  for  any 
employer  of  labor  to  coerce  a  laborer  into  a  contract  not  to  join  a  union,  as  a 
condition  of  being  employed.  Some  states  also  indirectly  protect  labor  unions  by 
legislation  against  trusts ;  others  have  passed  laws  favoring  the  employment  of 
union  men  in  the  prosecution  of  public  works. 

A  hopeful  sign  for  labor-unionism  is  the  fact  that  it  is  being  granted  an 
increasingly  large  representation  in  the  settlement  of  disputes.  Labor  laws  are  still 
in  a  stage  of  experiment.  Legislators  have  been  unsympathetic,  and  courts  have 
had  a  tendency  to  feel  that  there  was  something  inherently  wrong  in  labor  com- 
binations for  the  purpose  of  raising  wages  and  upholding  the  laborers'  rights. — 
J.  H.  Ralston,  "  Die  Rechtslage  der  Gewerkvereine  in  den  Vereinigten  Staaten," 
Archiv  fur  Sozialwissenschaft  und  Sozialpolitik,  September,  1905. 

D.  E.  T. 

Physical  Deterioration  in  England. —  Among  the  unhappy  surprises  that 
have  come  to  Great  Britain  in  this  beginning  of  a  new  century,  one  is  the  result 
of  a  careful  and  conscientious  study  of  the  physical  and  moral  condition  of  the 
lower  classes  in  the  cities.  Sir  Walter  Besant  and  Mr.  R.  H.  Sherard  have  vividly 
described  the  conditions  in  which  the  people  of  the  manufacturing  districts  are 
born,  live,  and  die.  The  man  who  has  every  comfort  of  life  is  totally  without 
knowledge  of  such  terrible  suffering,  and  of  the  fact  that  it  is  growing  gradually 
worse. 

The  military  department  has  also  made  a  statement  that  for  some  years  it  has 
been  compelled  to  turn  away  from  40  to  60  per  cent,  of  its  applicants  because  of 
failure  in  the  physical  examinations.  Driven  by  such  cries  of  dissatisfaction,  the 
government  instituted  a  commission  to  investigate  physical  conditions,  to  note 
tendencies,  and  to  determine,  so  far  as  possible,  whether  they  are  permanent  or 
accidental. 


44°  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

This  commission  notes  first  of  all  the  very  general  phenomenon  —  the  exodus, 
to  the  cities.  In  1850,  50  per  cent,  of  the  people  lived  in  the  country  ;  now  only 
23  per  cent.  The  movement  is  still  going  on,  for  these  strong  tillers  of  the  soil 
find  ready  employment  in  places  where  great  strength  is  required. 

But  it  is  startling  to  learn  that  30  per  cent,  of  the  entirei  population  of  Lon- 
don live  in  extreme  poverty ;  and  not  only  in  London,  for  of  at  least  25  per  cent, 
of  the  population  of  Manchester  and  )LovV,  and  the  other  large  cities,  can  the  same 
be  said.  This  means  that  one-fourth  of  the  people  are  unable  to  find  means  of 
recuperation,  and  must  deteriorate. 

What  are  some  of  the  causes?  The  commission  mentions,  first,  insufficient 
salaries.  These  laborers  move  about,  and  almost  all  of  them  are  married.  Add  to 
this,  sickness  in  the  family,  enforced  idleness,  etc.,  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that,  to 
keep  within  the  slender  support,  the  size  of  the  family  must  be  reduced,  or  suffering 
results.  We  must  remember,  however,  that  about  10  per  cent,  of  the  population 
are  morally  unable  to  rise  above  poverty.  A  second  cause  is  a  false  aristocracy, 
which  leads  people,  even  of  the  lower  classes,  to  imitate  higher  classes,  and  thus  to 
live  far  beyond  their  slender  means.  Especially  are  the  women  wasteful,  when 
compared  with  those  of  other  nations.  Third,  a  seeming  democracy,  which  has 
kept  the  lower  classes  from  revolting  and  claiming  their  rights.  Fourth,  inferior 
food.  Instead  of  ale  and  beef,  they  use  poor  pork  and  tea.  This  point  is  strongly 
emphasized  by  the  commission.  People  try  to  satisfy  their  present  hunger  without 
any  thought  of  recuperating  their  physical  forces.  Parents  are  very  neglectful  of 
the  welfare  of  their  children. 

The  outcome  of  this  investigation  is  not  all  pessimism.  The  death-rate  is 
decreasing,  and  England's  population  is  still  doubling  every  sixty  years.  The 
human  body  has  a  wonderful  recuperative  power,  and  uncalculated  resistance  and 
endurance. 

The  tendency  noted  is  not  necessarily  a  permanent  one.  The  investigation  has 
brought  to  light  facts  that  will  arouse ;  the  evils  are  not  incurable,  now  that  they 
are  known. —  Robert  Savary,  "  La  deterioration  physique  du  peuple  anglais  (a 
propos  d'une  enquete  recente),"  Annates  des  sciences  politiques,  September,   1905. 

D.  E.  T. 

The  Gist  of  Marxism. —  Karl  Marx  established  the  science  of  political  life. 
It  is  the  science  of  collective  action,  of  social  life  considered  as  a  "  process." 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  individualism  ;  present  society  is  not  individualistic. 
The  rights  of  the  individual  are  sacrificed  ;  there  is  something  higher  in  present 
society  than  the  individual.  Society  is  collective ;  it  is  managed  for  a  collectivity, 
i.  e.,  a  property  class  called  the  capitalistic  class.  Today  fealty  to  this  collectivity 
is  the  essence  of  religion,  ethics,  and  patriotism. 

This  is  the  discovery  made  by  Marx.  Its  importance  is  seen  from  the  outcry 
against  it.  Marx  took  another  step,  explaining  how  classes  are  formed  out  of 
industrial  conditions.  The  issue  is  not  socialism  versus  individualism.  Bothi  are 
forms  of  collective  life.  Marx's  discovery  has  called  into  existence  a  number  of 
new  words,  e.  g. :    "  classism,"  "  classal,"  "  class-interests,"  "  class-consciousness." 

In  civil  life  classes  have  no  formal  existence  in  law  ;  i.  e.,  none  on  paper. 
In  political  life  classes  exist  in  fact.  They  are  parties.  Some  say  they  are  a 
necessary  evil ;  Marx  says  they  are  a  necessary  good  :  the  sacrifice  of  individual 
interests  for  party  welfare  is  the  noblest  sacrifice.  So  long  as  classes  exist,  no 
other  ethics  is  possible  save  partisanship  or  class  fealty. 

There  is  a  form  of  ethics  higher  than  partisanship  ;  that  is,  under  socialism, 
where  all  classes  and  parties  merge  into  the  totality.  Sacrifice  of  individual 
interests  will  then  be,  not  for  a  class  or  for  a  party,  but  for  the  totality.  Then 
individual  sacrifice  will  lose  its  altruistic  character  and  become  self-interest. 
Then  collectivism  and  individualism  will  be  merged  into  each  other ;  but  never 
can  they  be  under  classism.  This  is  the  gist  of  Marxism. —  Marcus  Hitch,  in 
International  Socialist  Review,  October  i,   1905, 

S.  E.  W.  B. 


THE  AMERICAN 

JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


Volume  XI  JANUARY,     I906  Number  4 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  AND  OF  SECRET 
SOCIETIES  1 


PROFESSOR  DR.  GEORG  SIMMEL 
Berlin 


All  relationships  of  people  to  each  other  rest,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  upon  the  precondition  that  they  know  something  about 
each  other.  The  merchant  knows  that  his  correspondent  wants 
to  buy  at  the  lowest  price  and  to  sell  at  the  highest  price.  The 
teacher  knows  that  he  may  credit  to  the  pupil  a  certain  quality  and 
quantity  of  information.  Within  each  social  stratum  the  indi- 
vidual knows  approximately  what  measure  of  culture  he  has  to 
presuppose  in  each  other  individual.  In  all  relationships  of  a 
personally  differentiated  sort  there  develop,  as  we  may  affirm  with 
obvious  reservations,  intensity  and  shading  in  the  degree  in  which 
each  unit  reveals  himself  to  the  other  through  word  and  deed. 
How  much  error  and  sheer  prejudice  may  lurk  in  all  this  know- 
ing is  immaterial.  Just  as  our  apprehension  of  external  nature, 
along  with  its  elusions  and  its  inaccuracies,  still  attains  that 
degree  of  truth  which  is  essential  for  the  life  and  progress  of  our 
species,  so  each  knows  the  other  with  whom  he  has  to  do,  in  a 
rough  and  ready  way,  to  the  degree  necessary  in  order  that  the 
needed  kinds  of  intercourse  may  proceed.  That  we  shall  know 
with  whom  we  have  to  do,  is  the  first  precondition  of  having 
anything  to  do  with  another.  The  customary  reciprocal  presenta- 

' Translated  by  Albion  W.  Small. 

441 


442  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tion,  in  the  case  of  any  somewhat  protracted  conversation,  or  in 
the  case  of  contact  upon  the  same  social  plane,  although  at  first 
sight  an  empty  form,  is  an  excellent  symbol  of  that  reciprocal 
apprehension  which  is  the  presumption  of  every  social  relation- 
ship. The  fact  is  variously  concealed  from  consciousness, 
because,  in  the  case  of  a  very  large  number  of  relationships, 
only  the  quite  typical  tendencies  and  qualities  need  to  be 
reciprocally  recognized.  Their  necessity  is  usually  observed  only 
when  they  happen  to  be  wanted.  It  would  be  a  profitable 
scientific  labor  to  investigate  the  sort  and  degree  of  reciprocal 
apprehension  which  is  needed  for  the  various  relationships 
between  human  beings.  It  would  be  worth  while  to  know 
how  the  general  psychological  presumptions  with  which  each 
approaches  each  are  interwoven  with  the  special  experiences 
with  reference  to  the  individual  who  is  in  juxtaposition  with  us; 
how  in  many  ranges  of  association  the  reciprocal  apprehension 
does  or  does  not  need  to  be  equal,  or  may  or  may  not  be  permitted 
to  be  equal;  how  conventional  relationships  are  determined  in 
their  development  only  through  that  reciprocal  or  unilateral 
knowledge  developing  with  reference  to  the  other  party.  The 
investigation  should  finally  proceed  in  the  opposite  direction; 
that  is,  it  should  inquire  how  our  objectively  psychological  picture 
of  others  is  influenced  by  the  real  relationships  of  practice  and  of 
sentiment  between  us.  This  latter  problem  by  no  means  has 
reference  to  falsification.  On  the  contrary,  in  a  quite  legitimate 
fashion,  the  theoretical  conception  of  a  given  individual  varies 
with  the  standpoint  from  which  it  is  formed,  which  standpoint  is 
given  by  the  total  relationship  of  the  knower  to  the  known. 
Since  one  never  can  absolutely  know  another,  as  this  would  mean 
knowledge  of  every  particular  thought  and  feeling;  since  we 
must  rather  form  a  conception  of  a  personal  unity  out  of  the 
fragments  of  another  person  in  which  alone  he  is  accessible  to 
us,  the  unity  so  formed  necessarily  depends  upon  that  portion  of 
the  other  which  our  standpoint  toward  him  permits  us  to  see. 
These  differences,  however,  by  no  means  spring  merely  from 
differences  in  the  quantity  of  the  apprehension.  No  psycho- 
logical knowledge  is  a  mere  mechanical  echo  of  its  object.     It  is 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  443 

rather,  like  knowledge  of  external  nature,  dependent  upon  the 
forms  that  the  knowing  mind  brings  to  it,  and  in  which  it  takes 
up  the  data.  When  we  are  concerned  with  apprehension  of  indi- 
vidual by  individual,  these  forms  are  individually  differentiated 
in  a  very  high  degree.  They  do  not  arrive  at  the  scientific 
generality  and  supersubjective  conclusiveness  which  are  attain- 
able in  our  knowledge  of  external  nature,  and  of  the  typically 
individual  psychic  processes.  If  A  has  a  different  conception  of 
M  from  that  of  B,  this  does  not  necessarily  mean  incompleteness 
or  deception.  On  the  contrary,  the  personality  of  A  and  the 
total  circumstances  of  his  relation  to  M  being  what  they  are,  his 
picture  of  M  is  for  him  true,  while  for  B  a  picture  differing  some- 
what in  its  content  may  likewise  be  true.  It  is  by  no  means  cor- 
rect to  say  that,  over  and  above  these  two  pictures,  there  is  the 
objectively  correct  apprehension  of  M,  by  which  the  two  are  to 
be  corrected  according  to  the  measure  of  their  agreement  with  it. 
Rather  is  the  ideal  truth  which,  to  be  sure,  the  actual  picture  of  M 
in  the  conception  of  A  approaches  only  asymptotically,  that  is  as 
ideal,  something  different  from  that  of  B.  It  contains,  as  inte- 
grating organizing  precondition,  the  psychical  peculiarity  of  A 
and  the  special  relationship  into  which  A  and  M  are  brought,  by 
virtue  of  their  characteristics  and  their  fortunes.  Every  relation- 
ship between  persons  causes  a  picture  of  each  to  take  form  in  the 
mind  of  the  other,  and  this  picture  evidently  is  in  reciprocal  rela- 
tionship with  that  personal  relationship.  While  this  latter  con- 
stitutes the  presupposition,  on  the  basis  of  which  the  conceptions 
each  of  the  other  take  shape  so  and  so,  and  with  reference  to 
which  these  conceptions  possess  actual  truth  for  the  given  case, 
on  the  other  hand  the  actual  reciprocity  of  the  individuals  is  based 
upon  the  picture  which  they  derive  of  each  other.  Here  we  have 
one  of  the  deep  circuits  of  the  intellectual  life,  inasmuch  as  one 
element  presupposes  a  second,  but  the  second  presupposes  the 
first.  While  this  is  a  fallacy  within  narrow  ranges,  and  thus 
makes  the  whole  involved  intellectual  process  unreliable,  in  more 
general  and  fundamental  application  it  is  the  unavoidable  expres- 
sion of  the  unity  in  which  these  two  elements  coalesce,  and  which 
cannot  be  expressed  in  our  forms  of  thought  except  as  a  building 


444  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  first  upon  the  second,  and  at  the  same  time  of  the  second 
upon  the  first.  Accordingly,  our  situations  develop  themselves 
upon  the  basis  of  a  reciprocal  knowledge  of  each  other,  and  this 
knowledge  upon  the  basis  of  actual  situations,  both  inextricably 
interwoven,  and,  through  their  alternations  within  the  reciprocal 
sociological  process,  designating  the  latter  as  one  of  the  points  at 
which  reality  and  idea  make  their  mysterious  unity  empirically 
perceptible. 

In  the  presence  of  the  total  reality  upon  which  our  conduct 
is  founded,  our  knowledge  is  characterized  by  peculiar  limitations 
and  aberrations.  We  cannot  say  in  principle  that  "error  is  life 
and  knowledge  is  death,"  because  a  being  involved  in  persistent 
errors  would  continually  act  wide  of  the  purpose,  and  would  thus 
inevitably  perish.  At  the  same  time,  in  view  of  our  accidental 
and  defective  adaptations  to  our  life-conditions,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  we  cherish  not  only  so  much  truth,  but  also  so  much 
nescience,  and  attain  to  so  much  error  as  is  useful  for  our  prac- 
tical purposes.  We  may  call  to  mind  in  this  connection  the  vast 
sums  of  human  knowledge  that  modify  human  life,  which,  how- 
ever, are  overlooked  or  disregarded  if  the  total  cultural  situation 
does  not  make  these  modifications  possible  and  useful.  At  the 
other  extreme,  we  may  refer  to  the  Lebensluge  of  the  individual, 
so  often  in  need  of  illusion  as  to  his  powers  and  even  as  to  his 
feelings,  of  superstition  with  reference  to  God  as  well  as  men,  in 
order  to  sustain  himself  in  his  being  and  in  his  potentialities.  In 
this  psycho-biological  respect  error  is  co-ordinated  with  truth. 
The  utilities  of  the  external,  as  of  the  subjective,  life  provide 
that  we  get  from  the  one  as  well  as  from  the  other  precisely  that 
which  constitutes  the  basis  of  the  conduct  which  is  essential  for 
us.  Of  course,  this  proposition  holds  only  in  the  large,  and  with 
a  wide  latitude  for  variations  and  defective  adaptations. 

But  there  is  within  the  sphere  of  objective  knowledge,  where 
there  is  room  for  truth  and  illusion,  a  definite  segment  in  which 
both  truth  and  illusion  may  take  on  a  character  nowhere  else 
observed.  The  subjective,  internal  facts  of  the  i>erson  with  whom 
we  are  in  contact  present  this  area  of  knowledge.  Our  fellow- 
man  either  may  voluntarily  reveal  to  us  the  truth  about  himself, 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  44  5 

or  by  dissimulation  he  may  deceive  us  as  to  the  truth.  No  other i 
object  of  knowledge  can  thus  of  its  own  initiative,  either) 
enlighten  us  with  reference  to  itself  or  conceal  itself,  as  a  human 
being  can.  No  other  knowable  object  modifies  its  conduct  from 
consideration  of  its  being  understood  or  misunderstood.  This 
modification  does  not,  of  course,  take  place  throughout  the  whole 
range  of  human  relations.  In  many  ways  our  fellow-man  is  also 
in  principle  only  like  a  fragment  of  nature,  which  our  apprehen- 
sion, so  to  speak,  holds  fast  in  its  grasp.  In  many  respects, 
however,  the  situation  is  different,  and  our  fellow-man  of  his 
own  motion  gives  forth  truth  or  error  with  reference  to  himself. 
Every  lie,  whatever  its  content,  is  in  its  essential  nature  a  promo- 
tion of  error  with  reference  to  the  mendacious  subject;  for  the 
lie  consists  in  the  fact  that  the  liar  conceals  from  the  person  to 
whom  the  idea  is  conveyed  the  true  conception  which  he  pos- 
sesses. The  specific  nature  of  the  lie  is  not  exhausted  in  the 
fact  that  the  person  to  whom  the  lie  is  told  has  a  false  concep- 
tion of  the  fact.  This  is  a  detail  in  common  with  simple 
error.  The  additional  trait  is  that  the  person  deceived  is  held 
in  misconception  about  the  true  intention  of  the  person  who 
tells  the  lie.  Veracity  and  mendacity  are  thus  of  the  most  far- 
reaching  significance  for  the  relations  of  persons  with  each 
other.  Sociological  structures  are  most  characteristically  dif- 
ferentiated by  the  measure  of  mendacity  that  is  operative  in 
them.  To  begin  with,  in  very  simple  relationships  a  lie  is 
much  more  harmless  for  the  persistence  of  the  group  than 
in  complex  associations.  Primitive  man,  living  in  communities 
of  restricted  extent,  providing  for  his  needs  by  his  own  produc- 
tion or  by  direct  co-operation,  limiting  his  spiritual  interests  to 
personal  experience  or  to  simple  tradition,  surveys  and  controls 
the  material  of  his  existence  more  easily  and  completely  than  the 
man  of  higher  culture.  In  the  latter  case  life  rests  upon  a  thou- 
sand presuppositions  which  the  individual  can  never  trace  back 
to  their  origins,  and  verify;  but  which  he  must  accept  upon  faith 
and  belief.  In  a  much  wider  degree  than  people  are  accustomed 
to  realize,  modem  civilized  life  —  from  the  economic  system 
which  is  constantly  becoming  more  and  more  a  credit-economy. 


446  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

to  the  pursuit  of  science,  in  which  the  majority  of  investigators 
must  use  countless  results  obtained  by  others,  and  not  directly 
subject  to  verification  —  depends  upon  faith  in  the  honor  of 
others.  We  rest  our  most  serious  decisions  upon  a  complicated 
system  of  conceptions,  the  majority  of  which  presuppose  con- 
fidence that  we  have  not  been  deceived.  Hence  prevarication  in 
modern  circumstances  becomes  something  much  more  devasta- 
ting, something  placing  the  foundations  of  life  much  more  in 
jeopardy,  than  was  earlier  the  case.  If  lying  appeared  today 
among  us  as  a  sin  as  permissible  as  among  the  Greek  divinities, 
the  Hebrew  patriarchs,  or  the  South  Sea  Islanders;  if  the 
extreme  severity  of  the  moral  law  did  not  veto  it.  the  progressive 
upbuilding  of  modern  life  would  be  simply  impossible,  since 
modern  life  is,  in  a  much  wider  than  the  economic  sense,  a 
"credit-economy."  This  relationship  of  the  times  recurs  in  the 
case  of  differences  of  other  dimensions.  The  farther  third  per- 
sons are  located  from  the  center  of  our  personality,  the  easier  can 
we  adjust  ourselves  practically,  but  also  subjectively,  to  their  lack 
of  integrity.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  few  persons  in  our  imme- 
diate environment  lie  to  us,  life  becomes  intolerable.  This 
banality  must,  nevertheless,  be  brought  out  to  view,  because  it 
shows  that  the  ratios  of  truthfulness  and  mendacity,  which  are 
reconcilable  with  the  continuance  of  situations,  form  a  scale  that 
registers  the  ratios  of  the  intensity  of  these  relationships. 

In  addition  to  this  relative  sociological  permissibility  of  lying 
in  primitive  conditions,  we  must  observe  a  positive  utility  of  the 
same.  In  cases  where  the  first  organization,  stratification,  and 
centralization  of  the  group  are  in  question,  the  process  is  accom- 
plished by  means  of  subjection  of  the  weaker  to  the  physically 
and  mentally  superior.  The  lie  that  succeeds  —  that  is,  which 
is  not  seen  through  —  is  without  doubt  a  means  of  bringing 
mental  superiority  to  expression,  and  of  enabling  it  to  g^ide  and 
subordinate  less  crafty  minds.  It  is  a  spiritual  fist-law,  equally 
brutal,  but  occasionally  quite  as  much  in  place,  as  the  physical 
species;  for  instance,  as  a  selective  agency  for  the  breeding  of 
intelligence;  as  a  means  of  enabling  a  certain  few,  for  whom 
others  must  labor,  to  secure  leisure  for  production  of  the  higher 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  447 

cultural  good;  or  in  order  to  furnish  a  means  of  leadership  for 
the  group  forces.  The  more  these  purposes  are  accomplished  by 
means  which  have  fewer  disagreeable  consequences,  the  less  is 
lying  ncessary,  and  the  more  room  is  made  for  consciousness  of 
its  ethical  unworthiness.  This  process  is  by  no  means  completed. 
The  small  trader  still  thinks  that  he  cannot  dispense  with  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  mendacious  recommendations  of  his  wares,  and 
he  acts  accordingly  without  compunctions  of  conscience.  Whole- 
sale and  retail  trade  on  a  large  scale  have  passed  this  stadium, 
and  they  are  accordingly  able  to  act  in  accordance  with  complete 
integrity  in  marketing  their  goods.  So  soon  as  the  methods  of 
doing  business  among  small  traders,  and  those  of  the  middle  class, 
have  reached  a  similar  degree  of  perfection,  the  exaggerations 
and  actual  falsifications,  in  advertising  and  recommending  goods, 
which  are  today  in  general  not  resented  in  those  kinds  of  business, 
will  fall  under  the  same  ethical  condemnation  which  is  now  passed 
in  the  business  circles  just  referred  to.  Commerce  built  upon 
integrity  will  be  in  general  the  more  advantageous  within  a  group, 
in  the  degree  in  which  the  welfare  of  the  many  rather  than  that  of 
the  few  sets  the  g^oup  standard.  For  those  who  are  deceived  — 
that  is,  those  placed  at  a  disadvantage  by  the  lie  —  will  always  be 
in  the  majority  as  compared  with  the  liar  who  gets  his  advantage 
from  the  lie.  Consequently  that  enlightenment  which  aims  at 
elimination  of  the  element  of  deception  from  social  life  is  always 
of  a  democratic  character. 

Human  intercourse  rests  normally  upon  the  condition  that 
the  mode  of  thought  among  the  persons  associated  has  certain 
common  characteristics;  in  other  words,  that  objective  spiritual 
contents  constitute  the  common  material,  which  is  developed  in  its 
individual  phases  in  the  course  of  social  contacts.  The  type  and 
the  most  essential  vehicle  of  this  community  of  spiritual  content 
is  common  language.  If  we  look  a  little  closer,  however,  the 
common  basis  here  referred  to  consists  by  no  means  exclusively 
of  that  which  all  equally  know,  or,  in  a  particular  case,  of  that 
which  the  one  accepts  as  the  spiritual  content  of  the  other;  but 
this  factor  is  shot  through  by  another,  viz.,  knowledge  which  the 
one  associate  possesses,  while  the  other  does  not.     If  there  were 


448  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

such  a  thing  as  complete  reciprocal  transparency,  the  relation- 
ships of  human  beings  to  each  other  would  be  modified  in  a  quite 
unimaginable  fashion.  The  dualism  of  human  nature,  by  reason 
of  which  every  manifestation  of  it  has  its  sources  in  numerous 
origins  that  may  be  far  distant  from  each  other,  and  every  quan- 
tity is  estimated  at  the  same  time  as  great  or  small,  according  as 
it  is  contemplated  in  connection  with  littleness  or  greatness, 
makes  it  necessary  to  think  of  sociological  relationships  in  general 
dualistically ;  that  is,  concord,  harmony,  mutuality,  which  count 
as  the  socializing  forces  proper,  must  be  interrupted  by  distance, 
competition,  repulsion,  in  order  to  produce  the  actual  configura- 
tion of  society.  The  strenuous  organizing  forms  which  appear  to 
be  the  real  constructors  of  society,  or  to  construct  society  as  such, 
must  be  continually  disturbed,  unbalanced,  and  detached  by  indi- 
vidualistic and  irregular  forces,  in  order  that  their  reaction  and 
development  may  gain  vitality  by  alternate  concession  and  resist- 
ance. Relationships  of  an  intimate  character,  the  formal  vehicle 
of  which  is  psycho-physical  proximity,  lose  the  charm,  and  even 
the  content,  of  their  intimacy,  unless  the  proximity  includes,  at 
the  same  time  and  alternately,  distance  and  intermission.  Finally 
—  and  this  is  the  matter  with  which  we  are  now  concerned  —  the 
reciprocal  knowledge,  which  is  the  positive  condition  of  social 
relationships,  is  not  the  sole  condition.  On  the  contrary,  such  as 
those  relationships  are,  they  actually  presuppose  also  a  certain 
nescience,  a  ratio,  that  is  immeasurably  variable  to  be  sure,  of 
reciprocal  concealment.  The  lie  is  only  a  very  rude  form,  in  the 
last  analysis  often  quite  self-contradictory,  in  which  this  necessity 
comes  to  the  surface.  However  frequently  lying  breaks  up  a 
social  situation,  yet,  so  long  as  it  existed,  a  lie  may  have  been  an 
integrating  element  of  its  constitution.  We  must  take  care  not  to 
be  misled,  by  the  ethically  negative  value  of  lying,  into  error  about 
the  direct  positive  sociological  significance  of  untruthfulness,  as 
it  appears  in  shaping  certain  concrete  situations.  Moreover, 
lying  in  connection  with  the  elementary  sociological  fact  here  in 
question  —  viz.,  the  limitation  of  the  knowledge  of  one  associate 
by  another  —  is  only  one  of  the  possible  means,  the  positive  and 
aggressive  technique,  so  to  speak,  the  purpose  of  which  in  general 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  449 

is  obtained  through  sheer  secrecy  and  concealment.  The  follow- 
ing discussion  has  to  do  with  these  more  general  and  negative 
forms.  Before  we  come  to  the  question  of  secrecy  as  consciously 
willed  concealment,  we  should  notice  in  what  various  degrees 
different  circumstances  involve  disregard  of  reciprocal  knowledge 
by  the  members  of  associations.  Among  those  combinations 
which  involve  some  degree  of  direct  reciprocity  on  the  part  of 
their  members,  those  which  are  organized  for  a  special  purpose 
are  first  in  eliminating  this  element  of  reciprocal  knowledge. 
Among  these  purposeful  organizations,  which  in  principle  still 
involve  direct  reciprocity,  the  extreme  in  the  present  particular  is 
represented  by  those  in  which  utterly  objective  performances  of 
the  members  are  in  view.  This  situation  is  best  typified 
by  the  cases  in  which  the  contribution  of  so  much  cash  represents 
the  participation  of  the  individuals  in  the  activities  of  the  group. 
In  such  instances  reciprocity,  coherence,  and  common  pursuit  of 
the  purpose  by  no  means  rest  upon  psychological  knowledge  of 
the  one  member  by  the  others.  As  member  of  the  group  the 
individual  is  exclusively  the  agent  of  a  definite  performance ;  and 
whatever  individual  motive  may  impel  him  to  this  activity,  or 
whatever  may  be  the  total  characteristics  of  his  conduct  as  a 
whole,  is  in  this  connection  a  matter  of  complete  indifference. 
The  organization  for  a  special  purpose  (Zweckverband)  is  the 
peculiarly  discreet  sociological  formation;  its  members  are  in 
psychological  respyects  anonymous;  and,  in  order  to  form  the 
combination,  they  need  to  know  of  each  other  only  that  they 
form  it.  Modern  culture  is  constantly  growing  more  objective. 
Its  tissues  grow  more  and  more  out  of  impersonal  energies,  and 
absorb  less  and  less  the  subjective  entirety  of  the  individual.  In 
this  respect  the  hand  laborer  and  the  factory  laborer  furnish  the 
antithesis  which  illustrates  the  difference  between  past  and  pres- 
ent social  structure.  This  objective  character  impresses  itself 
also  upon  sociological  structure,  so  that  combinations  into  which 
formerly  the  entire  and  individual  person  entered,  and  which 
consequently  demanded  reciprocal  knowledge  beyond  the  imme- 
diate content  of  the  relationship,  are  now  founded  exclusively  on 
this  content  in  its  pure  objectivity. 


450  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

By  virtue  of  the  situation  just  noticed,  that  antecedent  or 
consequent  form  of  knowledge  with  reference  to  an  individual  — 
viz.,  confidence  in  him,  evidently  one  of  the  most  important  syn- 
thetic forces  within  society  —  gains  a  peculiar  evolution.  Confi- 
dence, as  the  hypothesis  of  future  conduct,  which  is  sure  enough 
to  become  the  basis  of  practical  action,  is,  as  hypothesis,  a  mediate 
condition  between  knowing  and  not  knowing  another  person. 
The  possession  of  full  knowledge  does  away  with  the  need  of 
trusting,  while  complete  absence  of  knowledge  makes  trust  evi- 
dently impossible.^  Whatever  quantities  of  knowing  and  not 
knowing  must  commingle,  in  order  to  make  possible  the  detailed 
practical  decision  based  upon  confidence,  will  be  determined  by 
the  historic  epoch,  the  ranges  of  interests,  and  the  individuals. 
The  objectification  of  culture  referred  to  above  has  sharply 
differentiated  the  amounts  of  knowing  and  not  knowing  essential 
as  the  condition  of  confidence.  The  modern  merchant  who  enters 
into  a  transaction  with  another,  the  scholar  who  undertakes  an 
investigation  with  another,  the  leader  of  a  political  party  who 
makes  an  agreement  with  the  leader  of  another  party  with  refer- 
ence to  an  election,  or  the  handling  of  a  proposed  bill  —  all  these. 

'  There  is,  to  be  sure,  still  another  type  of  confidence,  which  our  present  discus- 
sion has  nothing  to  do  with,  since  it  is  a  type  that  falls  outside  the  bounds  either 
of  knowing  or  not  knowing.  It  is  the  type  which  we  call  faith  of  one  person  in 
another.  It  belongs  in  the  category  of  religious  faith.  Just  as  no  one  has  ever 
believed  in  the  existence  of  God  on  grounds  of  proof,  but  these  proofs  are  rather 
subsequent  justifications  or  intellectual  reflections  of  a  quite  immediate  attitude 
of  the  aflfections ;  so  we  have  faith  in  another  person,  although  this  faith  may  not 
be  able  to  justify  itself  by  proofs  of  the  worthiness  of  the  person,  and  it  may 
even  exist  in  spite  of  proofs  of  his  unworthiness.  This  confidence,  this  subjective 
attitude  of  unreservedness  toward  a  person,  is  not  brought  into  existence  by 
experiences  or  by  hypotheses,  but  it  is  a  primary  attitude  of  the  soul  with 
respect  to  another.  This  condition  of  faith,  in  a  perfectly  pure  form,  detached 
from  every  sort  of  empirical  consideration,  probably  occurs  only  within  the  sphere 
of  religion.  In  order  that  it  may  be  exercised  toward  men  it  probably  always 
needs  a  stimulus  or  a  sanction  from  the  knowledge  or  the  inference  above  referred 
to.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  probable  that  in  those  social  forms  of  confidence, 
however  exact  or  intellectually  sanctioned  they  may  seem  to  be,  an  element  of  that 
sentimental  and  even  mystical  "  faith  "  of  man  toward  man  is  hidden.  Perhaps  the 
type  of  attitude  here  indicated  is  a  fundamental  category  of  human  conduct,  rest- 
ing back  upon  the  metaphysical  meaning  of  our  relationship,  and  realized  only 
empirically,  accidentally,  and  partially  through  the  special  conscious  grounds  of 
confidence. 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  45  I 

with  exceptions  and  modifications  that  need  not  be  further  indi- 
cated, know,  with  reference  to  their  associates,  precisely  what  it 
is  necessary  to  know  for  the  purposes  of  the  relationship  in  ques- 
tion. The  traditions  and  institutions,  the  force  of  public  opinion, 
and  the  circumscription  of  the  situation,  which  unavoidably 
prejudice  the  individual,  are  so  fixed  and  reliable  that  one  cwily 
needs  to  know  certain  externalities  with  reference  to  the  other  in 
order  to  have  the  confidence  necessary  for  the  associated  action. 
The  basis  of  personal  qualities,  from  which  in  principle  a  modifi- 
cation of  attitude  within  the  relationship  could  spring,  is  elimi- 
nated from  consideration.  The  motivation  and  the  regulation  of 
this  conduct  has  become  so  much  a  matter  of  an  impersonal 
program  that  it  is  no  longer  influenced  by  that  basis,  and  con- 
fidence no  longer  dei>ends  upon  knowledge  of  that  individual  ele- 
ment. In  more  primitive,  less  differentiated  relationships,  knowl- 
edge of  one's  associates  was  much  more  necessary  in  personal 
respects,  and  much  less  in  respect  to  their  purely  objective  relia- 
bility. Both  factors  belong  together.  In  order  that,  in  case  of 
lack  in  the  latter  respect,  the  necessary  confidence  may  be  pro- 
duced, there  is  need  of  a  much  higher  degree  of  knowledge  of  the 
former  sort. 

That  purely  general  objective  knowledge  of  a  person,  beyond 
which  everything  that  is  strictly  individual  in  his  personality  may 
remain  a  secret  to  his  associates,  must  be  considerably  reinforced 
in  the  knowledge  of  the  latter,  whenever  the  organization  for  a 
specific  purpose  to  which  they  belong  possesses  an  essential  signi- 
ficance for  the  total  existence  of  its  members.  The  merchant  who 
sells  grain  or  oil  to  another  needs  to  know  only  whether  the  latter 
is  good  for  the  price.  The  moment,  however,  that  he  associates 
another  with  himself  as  a  partner,  he  must  not  merely  know  his 
standing  as  to  financial  assets,  and  certain  quite  general  qualities 
of  his  make-up,  but  he  must  see  through  him  very  thoroughly  as 
a  personality;  he  must  know  his  moral  standards,  his  degree  of 
companionability,  his  daring  or  prudent  temperament ;  and  upon 
reciprocal  knowledge  of  that  sort  must  depend  not  merely  the 
formation  of  the  relationship,  but  its  entire  continuance,  the  daily 
associated  actions,  the  division  of  functions  between  the  partners, 


452  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

etc.  The  secret  of  personality  is  in  such  a  case  sociologically 
more  restricted.  On  account  of  the  extent  to  which  the  common 
interest  is  dependent  upon  the  personal  quality  of  the  associates, 
no  extensive  self-existence  is  in  these  circumstances  permitted 
to  the  personality  of  the  individual. 

Beyond  the  organizations  for  distinct  purposes,  but  in  like 
manner  beyond  the  relationships  rooted  in  the  total  personality, 
stands  the  relationship,  highly  significant  sociologically,  which  is 
called,  in  the  higher  strata  of  culture,  "acquaintance."  That 
persons  are  "acquainted"  with  each  other  signifies  in  this  sense 
by  no  means  that  they  know  each  other  reciprocally ;  that  is,  that 
they  have  insight  into  that  which  is  peculiarly  personal  in  the 
individuality.  It  means  only  that  each  has,  so  to  speak,  taken 
notice  of  the  existence  of  the  other.  As  a  rule,  the  notion  of 
acquaintanceship  in  this  sense  is  associated  only  with  mere  men- 
tioning of  the  name,  the  "presentation."  Knowledge  of  the 
that,  not  of  the  what,  of  the  personality  distinguishes  the 
"acquaintanceship."  In  the  very  assertion  that  one  is  acquainted 
with  a  given  person,  or  even  well  acquainted  with  him,  one  indi- 
cates very  distinctly  the  absence  of  really  intimate  relationships. 
In  such  case  one  knows  of  the  other  only  his  external  character- 
istics. These  may  be  only  those  that  are  on  exhibit  in  social 
functions,  or  they  may  be  merely  those  that  the  other  chooses  to 
exhibit  to  us.  The  grade  of  acquaintanceship  denoted  by  the 
phrase  "well  acquainted  with  another"  refers  at  the  same  time 
not  to  the  essential  characteristics  of  the  other,  not  to  that  which 
is  most  important  in  his  inmost  nature,  but  only  to  that  which  is 
characteristic  in  the  aspect  presented  to  the  world.  On  that 
account,  acquaintanceship  in  this  polite  sense  is  the  peculiar  seat 
of  "discretion."  This  attitude  consists  by  no  means  merely  in 
respect  for  the  secret  of  the  other  —  that  is.  for  his  direct  volition 
to  conceal  from  us  this  or  that.  It  consists  rather  in  restraining 
ourselves  from  acquaintance  with  all  of  those  facts  in  the  con- 
ditions of  another  which  he  does  not  positively  reveal.  In  this 
instance  the  particulars  in  question  are  not  in  principle  distinctly 
defined  as  forbidden  territory.  The  reference  is  rather  to  that 
quite  general  reserve  due  to  the  total  personality  of  another,  and 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  453 

to  a  special  form  of  the  typical  antithesis  of  the  imperatives ;  viz. : 
what  is  not  forbidden  is  permitted,  and,  what  is  not  permitted  is 
forbidden.  Accordingly,  the  relationships  of  men  are  differen- 
tiated by  the  question  of  knowledge  with  reference  to  each  other : 
what  is  not  concealed  may  be  known,  and  what  is  not  revealed 
may  yet  not  be  known.  The  last  determination  corresponds  to  the 
otherwise  effective  consciousness  that  an  ideal  sphere  surrounds 
every  human  being,  different  in  various  directions  and  toward 
different  i)ersons ;  a  sphere  varying  in  extent,  into  which  one  may 
not  venture  to  penetrate  without  disturbing  the  personal  value  of 
the  individual.  Honor  locates  such  an  area.  Language  indi- 
cates very  nicely  an  invasion  of  this  sort  by  such  phrases  as 
"coming  too  near"  {zu  nahe  treten).  The  radius  of  that  sphere, 
so  to  speak,  marks  the  distance  which  a  stranger  may  not  cross 
without  infringing  upon  another's  honor.  Another  sphere  of 
like  form  corresponds  to  that  which  we  designate  as  the  "signifi- 
cance" (Bedeutung)  of  another  personality.  Towards  the 
"significant"  man  there  exists  an  inner  compulsion  to  keep  one's 
distance.  Even  in  somewhat  intimate  relationships  with  him 
this  constraint  does  not  disappear  without  some  special  occa- 
sion; and  it  is  absent  only  in  the  case  of  those  who  are  unable 
to  appreciate  the  "significance."  Accordingly,  that  zone  of 
separation  does  not  exist  for  thje  valet,  because  for  him  there 
is  no  "hero."  This,  however,  is  the  fault,  not  of  the  hero, 
but  of  the  valet.  Furthermore,  all  intrusiveness  is  bound 
up  with  evident  lack  of  sensitiveness  for  the  scale  of  signifi- 
cance among  people.  Whoever  is  intrusive  toward  a  significant 
personality  does  not,  as  it  might  superficially  appear,  rate 
that  person  high  or  too  high ;  but  on  the  contrary,  he  gives 
evidence  of  lacking  capacity  for  appropriate  respect.  As  the 
painter  often  emphasizes  the  significance  of  one  figure  in  a 
picture  that  includes  many  persons,  by  grouping  the  rest  at  a  con- 
siderable distance  from  the  important  figure,  so  there  is  a  socio- 
logical parallel  in  the  significance  of  distance,  which  holds  another 
outside  of  a  definite  sphere  filled  by  the  personality  with  its  power, 
its  will,  and  its  greatness.  A  similar  circuit,  although  quite  differ- 
ent in  value,  surrounds  the  man  in  the  setting  of  his  affairs  and 


454  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

his  qualities.  To  penetrate  this  circuit  by  curiosity  is  a  violation 
of  his  personality.  As  material  property  is  at  the  same  time  an 
extension  of  the  ego  —  property  is  precisely  that  which  obeys  the 
will  of  the  possessor,  as,  in  merely  graduated  difference,  the  body 
is  our  first  "property"  {Besitz) —  and  as  on  that  account  every 
invasion  of*  this  possession  is  resented  as  a  violation  of  the  per- 
sonality ;  so  there  is  a  spiritual  private  property,  to  invade  which 
signifies  violation  of  the  ego  at  its  center.  Discretion  is  nothing 
other  than  the  sense  of  justice  with  respect  to  the  sphere  of  the 
intimate  contents  of  life.  Of  course,  this  sense  is  various  in  its 
extension  in  connection  with  different  personalities,  just  as  the 
sense  of  honor  and  of  personal  property  has  a  quite  different 
radius  with  reference  to  the  persons  in  one's  immediate  circle 
from  that  which  it  has  toward  strangers  and  indifferent  persons. 
In  the  case  of  the  above-mentioned  social  relationships  in  the 
narrower  sense,  as  most  simply  expressed  in  the  term  "  acquaint- 
anceship," we  have  to  do  immediately  with  a  quite  typical  bound- 
ary, beyond  which  perhaps  no  guarded  secrets  lie ;  with  reference 
to  which,  however,  the  outside  party,  in  the  observance  of  con- 
ventional discretion,  does  not  obtrude  by  questions  or  otherwise. 
The  question  where  this  boundary  lies  is,  even  in  principle,  by 
no  means  easy  to  answer.  It  leads  rather  into  the  finest  meshes 
of  social  forms.  The  right  of  that  spiritual  private  property  just 
referred  to  can  no  more  be  ajRirmed  in  the  absolute  sense  than 
that  of  material  property.  We  know  that  in  higher  societies  the 
latter,  with  reference  to  the  three  essential  sides,  creation,  secur- 
ity, and  productiveness,  never  rests  merely  upon  the  personal 
agency  of  the  individual.  It  depends  also  upon  the  conditions 
and  powers  of  the  social  environment;  and  consequently  its 
limitations,  whether  through  the  prohibitions  that  affect  the  mode 
of  acquiring  property,  or  through  taxation,  are  from  the  begin- 
ning the  right  of  the  whole.  This  right,  however,  has  a  still 
deeper  basis  than  the  principle  of  service  and  counter-service 
between  society  and  the  individual.  That  basis  is  the  much  more 
elementary  one,  that  the  part  must  subject  itself  to  so  much 
limitation  of  its  self-sufficiency  as  is  demanded  by  the  existence 
and  purposes  of  the  whole.     The  same  principle  applies  to  the 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  455 

subjective  sphere  of  personality.  In  the  interest  of  association, 
and  of  social  coherence,  each  must  know  certain  things  with 
reference  to  the  other;  and  this  other  has  not  the  rjght  to  resist 
this  knowledge  from  the  moral  standpoint,  and  to  demand  the 
discretion  of  the  other;  that  is,  the  undisturbed  possession  of  his 
being  and  consciousness,  in  cases  in  which  discretion  would 
prejudice  social  interests.  The  business  man  who  enters  into  a 
contractual  obligation  with  another,  covering  a  long  future;  the 
master  who  engages  a  servant ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  this  latter, 
before  he  agrees  to  the  servile  relationship;  the  superintendent 
who  is  responsible  for  the  promotion  of  a  subordinate;  the  head 
of  a  household  who  admits  a  new  personality  into  her  social 
circle  —  all  these  must  have  the  right  to  trace  out  or  to  combine 
everything  with  reference  to  the  past  or  the  present  of  the  other 
parties  in  question,  with  reference  to  their  temperament,  and  their 
moral  make-up,  that  would  have  any  relation  to  the  conclusion  or 
the  rejection  of  the  proposed  relationship.  These  are  quite  rough 
cases  in  which  the  beauty  of  discretion  —  that  is,  of  refraining 
from  knowledge  of  everything  which  the  other  party  does  not 
voluntarily  reveal  to  us  —  must  yield  to  the  demands  of  practical 
necessity.  But  in  finer  and  less  simple  form,  in  fragmentary 
passages  of  association  and  in  unuttered  revelations,  all  commerce 
of  men  with  each  other  rests  upon  the  condition  that  each  knows 
something  more  of  the  other  than  the  latter  voluntarily  reveals 
to  him ;  and  in  many  respects  this  is  of  a  sort  the  knowledge  of 
which,  if  possible,  would  have  been  prevented  by  the  party  so 
revealed.  While  this,  judged  as  an  individual  affair,  may  count 
as  indiscretion,  although  in  the  social  sense  it  is  necessary  as  a 
condition  for  the  existing  closeness  and  vitality  of  the  inter- 
change, yet  the  legal  boundary  of  this  invasion  upon  the  spiritual 
private  property  of  another  is  extremely  difficult  to  draw.  In 
general,  men  credit  themselves  with  the  right  to  know  everything 
which,  without  application  of  external  illegal  means,  through 
purely  psychological  observation  and  reflection,  it  is  possible  to 
ascertain.  In  point  of  fact,  however,  indiscretion  exercised  in 
this  way  may  be  quite  as  violent,  and  morally  quite  as  unjusti- 
fiable, as  listening  at  keyholes  and  prying  into  the  letters  of 


456  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Strangers.     To  anyone  with  fine  psychological  perceptions,  men 
betray  themselves  and  their  inmost  thoughts  and  characteristics 
in  countless  fashions,  not  only  in  spite  of  efforts  not  to  do  so,  but 
often  for  the  very  reason  that  they  anxiously  attempt  to  guard 
themselves.     The  greedy  spying  upon  every  unguarded  word; 
the  boring  persistence  of  inquiry  as  to  the  meaning  of  every  slight 
action,  or  tone  of  voice;  what  may  be  inferred  from  such  and 
such  expressions ;  what  the  blush  at  the  mention  of  a  given  name 
may  betray — all  this  does  not  overstep  the  boundary  of  external 
discretion ;  it  is  entirely  the  labor  of  one's  own  mind,  and  there- 
fore apparently  within  the  unquestionable  rights  of  the  agent. 
This  is  all  the  more  the  case,  since  such  misuse  of  psychological 
superiority  often  occurs  as  a  purely  involuntary  procedure.  Very 
often  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  restrain  our  interpretation  of 
another,  our  theory  of  his  subjective  characteristics  and  inten- 
tions.   However  positively  an  honorable  person  may  forbid  him- 
self to  practice  such  cogitation  with  reference  to  the  unrevealed 
traits  of  another,  and  such  exploiting  of  his  lack  of  foresight  and 
defenselessness,  a  knowing  process  often  goes  on  with  reference 
to  another  so  automatically,  its  result  often  presents  itself  so 
suddenly  and  unavoidably,  that  the  best  intention  can  do  nothing 
to  prevent  it.    Where  the  unquestionably  forbidden  may  thus  be 
so  unavoidable,  the  division  line  between  the  permitted  and  the 
non-permitted  is  the  more  indefinite.    To  what  extent  discretion 
must  restrain  itself  from  mental  handling  "  of  all  that  which  is  its 
own,"  to  what  extent  the  interests  of  intercourse,  the  reciprocal 
interdependence  of  the  members  of  the  same  group,  limits  this 
duty  of  discretion  —  this  is  a  question  for  the  answer  to  which 
neither  moral  tact,  nor  survey  of  the  objective  relationships  and 
their  demands,  can  alone  be  sufficient,  since  both  factors  must 
rather  always  work  together.    The  nicety  and  complexity  of  this 
question  throw  it  back  in  a  much  higher  degree  upon  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  individual  for  decision,  without  final  recourse  to 
any  authoritative  general  norm,  than  is  the  case  in  connection 
with  a  question  of  private  property  in  the  material  sense. 

In  contrast  with  this  preliminary  form,  or  this  attachment  of 
secrecy,  in  which  not  the  attitude  of  the  person  keeping  the  secret, 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  457 

but  that  of  a  third  party,  is  in  question,  in  which,  in  view  of  the 
mixture  of  reciprocal  knowledge  or  lack  of  knowledge,  the 
emphasis  is  on  the  amount  of  the  former  rather  than  on  that  of 
the  latter — in  contrast  with  this,  we  come  to  an  entirely  new 
variation ;  that  is,  in  those  relationships  which  do  not,  like  those 
already  referred  to.  center  around  definitely  circumscribed  inter- 
ests; but  in  relationship's  which,  at  least  in  their  essential  idea, 
rest  upon  the  whole  extension  of  the  personalities  concerned. 
The  principal  types  in  this  category  are  friendship  and  mar- 
riage. The  ideal  of  friendship  that  has  come  down  from  antique 
tradition,  and  singularly  enough  has  1>een  developed  directly 
in  the  romantic  sense,  aims  at  absolute  spiritual  confidence, 
with  the  attachment  that  material  possession  also  shall  be  a 
resource  common  to  the  friends.  This  entrance  of  the  entire 
undivided  ego  into  the  relationship  may  be  the  more  plausible 
in  friendship  than  in  love,  for  the  reason  that,  in  the  case 
of  friendship,  the  one-sided  concentration  upon  a  single  element 
is  lacking,  which  is  present  in  the  other  case  on  account 
of  the  sensuous  factor  in  love.  To  be  sure,  through  the 
circumstance  that  in  the  totality  of  possible  grounds  of  attach- 
ment one  assumes  the 'headship,  a  certain  organization  of  the 
relationship  occurs,  as  is  the  case  in  a  group  with  recognized 
leadership.  A  single  strong  factor  of  coherence  often  blazes  out 
the  path  along  which  the  others,  otherwise  likely  to  have  remained 
latent,  follow;  and  undeniably  in  the  case  of  most  men,  sexual 
love  opens  the  doors  of  the  total  personality  widest;  indeed,  in 
the  case  of  not  a  few,  sexuality  is  the  sole  form  in  which  they  can 
give  their  \Vhole  ego;  just  as,  in  the  case  of  the  artist,  the  form  of 
his  art.  whatever  it  may  be,  furnishes  the  only  possibility  of  pre- 
senting his  entire  nature.  This  is  to  be  observed  with  special 
frequency  among  women  —  to  be  sure,  the  same  thing  is  to  be 
asserted  in  the  case  of  the  quite  different  "  Christian  love "  — 
namely,  that  they  not  only,  because  they  love,  devote  their  life  and 
fortune  without  reserve;  but  that  this  at  the  same  time  is 
chemically  dissolved  in  love,  and  only  and  entirely  in  its  coloring, 
form,  and  temperature  flows  over  upon  the  other.  On  the  other 
hand,  however,  where  the  feeling  of  love  is  not  expansive  enough, 


458  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

where  the  other  contents  of  the  soul  are  not  flexible  enough,  it 
may  take  place,  as  I  indicated,  that  the  predominance  of  the  erotic 
nexus  may  suppress  not  only  the  practically  moral,  but  also  the 
spiritual,  contacts  that  are  outside  of  the  erotic  group.  Conse- 
quently friendship,  in  which  this  intensity,  but  also  this 
inequality  of  devotion,  is  lacking,  may  more  easily  attach  the 
whole  person  to  the  whole  person,  may  more  easily  break  up 
the  reserves  of  the  soul,  not  indeed  by  so  impulsive  a  process, 
but  throughout  a  wider  area  and  during  a  longer  succession. 
This  complete  intimacy  of  confidence  probably  becomes,  with 
the  changing  differentiation  of  men,  more  and  more  difficult. 
Perhaps  the  modern  man  has  too  much  to  conceal  to  make  a 
friendship  in  the  ancient  sense  possible;  perhaps  personalities 
also,  except  in  very  early  years,  are  too  peculiarly  individualized 
for  the  complete  reciprocality  of  understanding,  to  which 
always  so  much  divination  and  productive  phantasy  are  essen- 
tial. It  appears  that,  for  this  reason,  the  modern  type  of 
feeling  inclines  more  to  differentiated  friendships;  that  is,  to 
those  which  have  their  territory  only  upon  one  side  of  the  person- 
ality at  a  time,  and  in  which  the  rest  of  the  f>ersonality  plays  no 
part.  Thus  a  quite  special  type  of  friendship  emerges.  For  our 
problem,  namely,  the  degree  of  intrusion  or  of  reserve  within  the 
friendly  relationship,  this  type  is  of  the  highest  significance. 
These  differentiated  friendships,  which  bind  us  to  one  man  from 
the  side  of  sympathy,  to  another  from  the  side  of  intellectual  com- 
munity, to  a  third  on  account  of  religious  impulses,  to  a  fourth 
because  of  common  experiences,  present,  in  connection  with  the 
problem  of  discretion,  or  self-revelation  and  self-concealment,  a 
quite  peculiar  synthesis.  They  demand  that  the  friends  recip- 
rocally refrain  from  obtruding  themselves  into  the  range  of 
interests  and  feelings  not  included  in  the  special  relationship  in 
each  case.  Failure  to  observe  this  condition  would  seriously  dis- 
turb reciprocal  understanding.  But  the  relationship  thus  bounded 
and  circumscribed  by  discretion  nevertheless  has  its  sources  at 
the  center  of  the  whole  personality,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it 
expresses  itself  only  in  a  single  segment  of  its  periphery.  It 
leads  ideally  toward  the  same  depths  of  sentiment,  and  to  the 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  459 

same  capacity  to  sacrifice,  which  undifferentiated  epochs  and  per- 
sons associate  only  with  a  community  of  the  total  circumference 
of  life,  with  no  question  about  reserves  and  discretions. 

Much  more  difficult  is  measurement  of  self -revelation  and 
reserve,  with  their  correlates  intrusiveness  and  discretion,  in  the 
case  of  marriage.  In  this  relationship  these  forms  are  among  the 
universal  problems  of  the  highest  importance  for  the  sociology  of 
intimate  associations.  We  are  confronted  with  the  questions, 
whether  the  maximum  of  reciprocality  is  attained  in  a  relation- 
ship in  which  the  personalities  entirely  resign  to  each  other  their 
separate  existence,  or  quite  the  contrary,  through  a  certain 
reserve  —  whether  they  do  not  in  a  certain  qualitative  way  belong 
to  each  other  more  if  they  belong  to  each  other  less  quantitatively. 
These  questions  of  ratio  can  of  course,  at  the  outset,  be  answered 
only  with  the  further  question :  How  is  the  boundary  to  be 
drawn,  within  the  whole  area  of  a  person's  potential  communi- 
cability,  at  which  ultimately  the  reserve  and  the  respect  of  another 
are  to  begin?  The  advantage  of  modem  marriage  —  which,  to 
be  sure,  makes  both  questions  answerable  only  one  case  at  a  time 
—  is  that  this  boundary  is  not  from  the  start  determined,  as  was 
the  case  in  earlier  civilizations.  In  these  other  civilizations  mar- 
riage is,  in  principle,  as  a  rule,  not  an  erotic  phenomenon,  but 
merely  a  social-economic  institution.  The  satisfaction  of  the 
instincts  of  love  is  only  accidentally  connected  with  it.  With 
certain  exceptions,  the  marriage  is  not  on  grounds  of  individual 
attraction,  but  rather  of  family  policy,  labor  relationships,  or 
desire  for  descendants.  The  Greeks,  for  example,  carried  this 
institution  to  the  most  extreme  differentiation.  Thus  Demos- 
thenes said :  "  We  have  hetaerae  for  our  pleasure,  concubines 
for  our  daily  needs,  but  wives  to  give  us  lawful  children  and  to 
care  for  the  interior  of  the  house."  The  same  tendency  to  exclude 
from  the  community  of  marriage,  a  priori,  certain  defined  life- 
contents,  and  by  means  of  super-individual  provisions,  appears 
in  the  variations  in  the  forms  of  marriage  to  be  found  in  one  and 
the  same  people,  with  possibility  of  choice  in  advance  on  the  part 
of  those  contracting  marriages.  These  forms  are  differentiated 
in  various  ways  with  reference  to  the  economic,  religious,  legal, 


46o  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

and  other  interests  connected  with  the  family.  We  might  cite 
many  nature-peoples,  the  Indians,  the  Romans,  etc.  No  one  will, 
of  course,  fail  to  observe  that,  also  within  modern  life,  marriage 
is,  probably  in  the  majority  of  cases,  contracted  from  conventional 
or  material  motives;  nevertheless,  entirely  apart  from  the  fre- 
quency of  its  realization,  the  sociological  idea  of  modem  marriage 
is  the  community  of  all  life-contents,  in  so  far  as  they  immediately, 
and  through  their  effects,  determine  the  value  and  the  destiny  of 
the  personalities.  Moreover,  the  prejudice  of  this  ideal  demand 
is  by  no  means  ineffective.  It  has  often  enough  given  place  and 
stimulus  for  developing  an  originally  very  incomplete  reciproca- 
tion into  an  increasingly  comprehensive  attachment.  But,  while 
the  very  indeterminateness  of  this  process  is  the  vehicle  of  the 
happiness  and  the  essential  vitality  of  the  relationship,  its  reversal 
usually  brings  severe  disappointments.  If,  for  example,  absolute 
unity  is  from  the  beginning  anticipated,  if  demand  and  satisfac- 
tion recognize  no  sort  of  reserve,  not  even  that  which  for  all  fine 
and  deep  natures  must  always  remain  in  the  hidden  recesses  of 
the  soul,  although  they  may  think  they  open  themselves  entirely 
to  each  other  —  in  such  cases  the  reaction  and  disillusionment 
must  come  sooner  or  later. 

In  marriage,  as  in  free  relationships  of  analogous  types,  the 
temptation  is  very  natural  to  open  oneself  to  the  other  at  the 
outset  without  limit;  to  abandon  the  last  reserve  of  the  soul 
equally  with  those  of  the  body,  and  thus  to  lose  oneself  completely 
in  another.  This,  however,  usually  threatens  the  future  of  the 
relationship.  Only  those  people  can  without  danger  give  them- 
selves entirely  to  each  other  who  cannot  possibly  give  themselves 
entirely,  because  the  wealth  of  their  soul  rests  in  constant  pro- 
gressive development,  which  follows  every  devotion  immediately 
with  the  growth  of  new  treasures.  Complete  devotion  is  safe 
only  in  the  case  of  those  people  who  have  an  inexhaustible  fund 
of  latent  spiritual  riches,  and  therefore  can  no  more  alienate  them 
in  a  single  confidence  than  a  tree  can  give  up  the  fruits  of  next 
year  by  letting  go  what  it  produces  at  the  present  moment.  The 
case  is  quite  different,  however,  with  those  people  who,  so  to 
speak,  draw  from  their  capital  all  their  betrayals  of  feeling  and 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  46 1 

the  revelations  of  their  inner  life;  in  whose  case  there  is  no 
further  source  from  which  to  derive  those  elements  which  should 
not  be  revealed,  and  which  are  not  to  be  disjoined  from  the 
essential  ego.  In  such  cases  it  is  highly  probable  that  the  parties 
to  the  confidence  will  one  day  face  each  other  empty-handed ;  that 
the  Dionysian  free-heartedness  may  leave  behind  a  poverty  which 
—  unjustly,  but  not  on  that  account  with  less  bitterness  —  may  so 
react  as  even  to  charge  the  enjoyed  devotion  with  deception.  We 
are  so  constituted  that  we  not  merely,  as  was  remarked,  need  a 
certain  proportion  of  truth  and  error  as  the  basis  of  our  life,  but 
also  a  similar  mixture  of  definiteness  and  indefiniteness  in  the 
picture  of  our  life-elements.  That  which  we  can  see  through 
plainly  to  its  last  ground  shows  us  therewith  the  limit  of  its 
attraction,  and  forbids  our  phantasy  to  do  its  utmost  in  adding  to 
the  reality.  For  this  loss  no  literal  reality  can  compensate  us. 
because  the  action  of  the  imagination  of  which  we  are  deprived  is 
self-activity,  which  cannot  permanently  be  displaced  in  value  by 
any  receptivity  and  enjoyment.  Our  friend  should  not  only  give 
us  a  cumulative  gift,  but  also  the  possibility  of  conferring  gifts 
upon  him,  with  hopes  and  idealizations,  with  concealed  beauties 
and  charms  unknown  even  to  himself.  The  manner,  however,  in 
which  we  dispose  of  all  this,  produced  by  ourselves,  but  for  his 
sake,  is  the  vague  horizon  of  his  personality,  the  intermediate 
zone  in  which  faith  takes  the  place  of  knowledge.  It  must  be 
observed  that  we  have  here  to  do  by  no  means  with  mere  illu- 
sions, or  with  optimistic  or  infatuated  self-deception.  The  fact 
is  rather  that,  if  the  utmost  attractiveness  of  another  person  is  to 
be  preserved  for  us,  it  must  be  presented  to  us  in  part  in  the  form/ 
of  vagueness  or  impenetrability.  This  is  the  only  substitute 
which  the  great  majority  of  people  can  oflfer  for  that  attractive 
value  which  the  small  minority  possess  through  the  inexhausti- 
bility of  their  inner  life  and  growth.  The  mere  fact  of  absolute 
understanding,  of  having  accomplished  psychological  exhaustion 
of  the  contents  of  relationship  with  another,  produces  a  feeling  of 
insipidity,  even  if  there  is  no  reaction  from  previous  exaltation; 
it  cripples  the  vitality  of  the  relationship,  and  gives  to  its  con- 
tinuance an  appearance  of  utter  futility.     This  is  the  danger  of 


462  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

that  unbroken,  and  in  a  more  than  external  sense  shameless, 
dedication  to  which  the  unrestricted  possibilities  of  intimate  rela- 
tionships seduce,  which  indeed  is  easily  regarded  as  a  species  of 
obligation  in  those  relationships.  Because  of  this  absence  of 
reciprocal  discretion,  on  the  side  of  receiving  as  well  as  of  giving, 
many  marriages  are  failures.  That  is,  they  degenerate  into 
vulgar  habit,  utterly  bereft  of  charm,  into  a  matter-of-course 
which  retains  no  room  for  surprises.  The  fruitful  depth  of  rela- 
tionships which,  behind  every  latest  revelation,  implies  the  still 
unrevealed,  which  also  stimulates  anew  every  day  to  gain  what  is 
already  possessed,  is  merely  the  reward  of  that  tenderness  and 
self-control  which,  even  in  the  closest  relationship,  comprehending 
the  whole  person,  still  respect  the  inner  private  property,  which 
hold  the  right  of  questioning  to  be  limited  by  a  right  of  secrecy, 
:/'/  All  these  combinations  are  characterized  sociologically  by  the 
fact  that  the  secret  of  the  one  party  is  to  a  certain  extent  recog- 
nized by  the  other,  and  the  intentionally  or  unintentionally  con- 
cealed is  intentionally  or  unintentionally  respected.  The 
intention  of  the  concealment  assumes,  however,  a  quite  different 
intensity  so  soon  as  it  is  confronted  by  a  purpose  of  discovery. 
Thereupon  follows  that  purposeful  concealment,  that  aggressive 
defense,  so  to  speak,  against  the  other  party,  which  we  call 
secrecy  in  the  most  real  sense.  Secrecy  in  this  sense — i.  e.,  which 
is  effective  through  negative  or  positive  means  of  concealment  — 
is  one  of  the  greatest  accomplishments  of  humanity.  In  contrast 
with  the  juvenile  condition  in  which  every  mental  picture  is  at 
once  revealed,  every  undertaking  is  open  to  everyone's  view, 
secrecy  procures  enormous  extension  of  life,  because  with  pub- 
licity many  sorts  of  purposes  could  never  arrive  at  realization. 
Secrecy  secures,  so  to  speak,  the  possibility  of  a  second  world 
alongside  of  the  obvious  world,  and  the  latter  is  most  strenuously 
affected  by  the  former.  Every  relationship  between  two  indi- 
viduals or  two  groups  will  be  characterized  by  the  ratio  of  secrecy 
that  is  involved  in  it.  Even  when  one  of  the  parties  does  not 
notice  the  secret  factor,  yet  the  attitude  of  the  concealer,  and 
consequently  the  whole  relationship,  will  be  modified  by  it.  The 
historical  development  of  society  is  in  many  respects  characterized 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  463 

by  the  fact  that  what  was  formerly  pubHc  passes  under  the  pro- 
tection of  secrecy,  and  that,  on  the  contrary,  what  was  formerly 
secret  ceases  to  require  such  protection  and  proclaims  itself.  This 
is  analogous  with  that  other  evolution  of  mind  in  which  move- 
ments at  first  executed  consciously  become  unconsciously  me- 
chanical, and,  on  the  other  hand,  what  was  unconscious  and 
instinctive  rises  into  the  light  of  consciousness.  How  this 
development  is  distributed  over  the  various  formations  of  private 
and  public  life,  how  the  evolution  proceeds  toward  better-adapted 
conditions,  because,  on  the  one  hand,  secrecy  that  is  awkward 
and  undifferentiated  is  often  far  too  widely  extended,  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  in  many  respects  the  usefulness  of  secrecy  is  dis- 
covered very  late;  how  the  quantum  of  secrecy  has  variously 
modified  consequences  in  accordance  with  the  importance  or 
indifference  of  its  content  —  all  this,  merely  in  its  form  as  ques- 
tions, throws  a  flow  of  light  upon  the  significance  of  secrecy  for 
the  structure  of  human  reciprocities.  In  this  connection  we  must 
not  allow  ourselves  to  be  deceived  by  the  manifold  ethical  nega- 
tiveness  of  secrecy.  Secrecy  is  a  universal  sociological  form, 
which,  as  such,  has,  nothing  to  do  with  the  moral  valuations  of 
its  contents.  On  the  one  hand,  secrecy  may  embrace  the 
highest  values :  the  refined  shame  of  the  lofty  spirit,  which  covers 
up  precisely  its  best,  that  it  may  not  seem  to  seek  its  reward  in 
praise  or  wage;  for  after  such  payment  one  retains  the  reward, 
but  no  longer  the  real  value  itself.  On  the  other  hand,  secrecy  is 
not  in  immediate  interdependence  with  evil,  but  evil  with  secrecy. 
For  obvious  reasons,  the  immoral  hides  itself,  even  when  its 
content  encounters  no  social  penalty,  as,  for  example,  many 
sexual  faults.  The  essentially  isolating  effect  of  immorality  as 
such,  entirely  apart  from  all  primary  social  repulsion,  is  actual 
and  important.  Secrecy  is,  among  other  things,  also  the 
sociological  expression  of  moral  badness,  although  the  classi- 
cal aphorism,  "  No  one  is  so  bad  that  he  also  wants  to  seem  bad," 
takes  issue  with  the  facts.  Obstinacy  and  cynicism  may  often 
enough  stand  in  the  way  of  disguising  the  badness.  They  may 
even  exploit  it  for  magnifying  the  personality  in  the  judgment  of 


464  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Others,  to  the  degree  that  sometimes  immoralities  which  do  not 
exist  are  seized  upon  as  material  for  self-advertising. 

The  application  of  secrecy  as  a  sociological  technique,  as  a 
form  of  commerce  without  which,  in  view  of  our  social  environ- 
ment, certain  purposes  could  not  be  attained,  is  evident  without 
further  discussion.  Not  so  evident  are  the  charms  and  the  values 
which  it  possesses  over  and  above  its  significance  as  a  means,  the 
peculiar  attraction  of  the  relation  which  is  mysterious  in  form, 
regardless  of  its  accidental  content.  In  the  first  place,  the  strongly 
I  accentuated  exclusion  of  all  not  within  the  circle  of  secrecy  results 
I  in  a  correspondingly  accentuated  feeling  of  personal  possession. 
For  many  natures  possession  acquires  its  proper  significance,  not 
from  the  mere  fact  of  having,  but  besides  that  there  must  be  the 
consciousness  that  others  must  forego  the  possession.  Evidently 
this  fact  has  its  roots  in  our  stimulability  by  contrast.  Moreover, 
since  exclusion  of  others  from  a  possession  may  occur  especially 
in  the  case  of  high  values,  the  reverse  is  psychologically  very 
natural,  viz.,  that  what  is  withheld  from  the  many  appears  to 
have  a  special  value.  Accordingly,  subjective  possessions  of  the 
most  various  sorts  acquire  a  decisive  accentuation  of  value  through 
the  form  of  secrecy,  in  which  the  substantial  significance  of  the 
facts  concealed  often  enough  falls  into  a  significance  entirely  sub- 
ordinate to  the  fact  that  others  are  excluded  from  knowing  them. 
Among  children  a  pride  and  self-glory  often  bases  itself  on  the 
fact  that  the  one  can  say  to  the  others  :  "  I  know  something  that 
you  don't  know."  This  is  carried  to  such  a  degree  that  it  becomes 
a  formal  means  of  swaggering  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  de-classing 
on  the  other.  This  occurs  even  when  it  is  a  pure  fiction,  and  no 
secret  exists.  From  the  narrowest  to  the  widest  relationships, 
there  are  exhibitions  of  this  jealousy  about  knowing  something 
that  is  concealed  from  others.  The  sittings  of  the  English  Parlia- 
ment were  long  secret,  and  even  in  the  reign  of  George  III 
reports  of  them  in  the  press  were  liable  to  criminal  penalties  as 
violations  of  parliamentary  privilege.  Secrecy  gives  the  person 
enshrouded  by  it  an  exceptional  position;  it  works  as  a  stimulus 
of  purely  social  derivation,  which  is  in  principle  quite  independent 
of  its  casual  content,  but  is  naturally  heightened  in  the  degree  in 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  465 

which  the  exclusively  possessed  secret  is  significant  and  compre- 
hensive. There  is  also  in  this  connection  an  inverse  phenomenon, 
analogous  with  the  one  just  mentioned.  Every  superior  person- 
ality, and  every  superior  performance,  has,  for  the  average  of 
mankind,  something  mysterious.  To  be  sure,  all  human  being 
and  doing  spring  from  inexplicable  forces.  Nevertheless,  within 
levels  of  similarity  in  quality  and  value,  this  fact  does  not  make 
the  one  person  a  problem  to  another,  especially  because  in  respect 
to  this  equality  a  certain  immediate  understanding  exists  which 
is  not  a  special  function  of  the  intellect.  If  there  is  essential 
inequality,  this  understanding  cannot  be  reached,  and  in  the  form 
of  specific  divergence  the  general  mysteriousness  will  be  effective 
—  somewhat  as  one  who  always  lives  in  the  same  locality  may 
never  encounter  the  problem  of  the  influence  of  the  environment, 
which  influence,  however,  may  obtrude  itself  upon  him  so  soon  as 
he  changes  his  environment,  and  the  contrast  in  the  reaction  of 
feeling  upon  the  life-conditions  calls  his  attention  to  this  causal 
factor  in  the  situation.  Out  of  this  secrecy,  which  throws  a 
shadow  over  all  that  is  deep  and  significant,  grows  the  logically \ 
fallacious,  but  typical,  error,  that  everything  secret  is  something 
essential  and  significant.  The  natural  impulse  to  idealization,  and 
the  natural  timidity  of  men,  operate  to  one  and  the  same  end  in 
the  presence  of  secrecy;  viz.,  to  heighten  it  by  phantasy,  and  to 
distinguish  it  by  a  degree  of  attention  that  published  reality  could 
not  command. 

Singularly  enough,  these  attractions  of  secrecy  enter  into 
combination  with  those  of  its  logical  opposite;  viz.,  treason  or 
betrayal  of  secrets,  which  are  evidently  no  less  sociological  in 
their  nature.  Secrecy  involves  a  tension  which,  at  the  moment  of 
revelation,  finds  its  release.  This  constitutes  the  climax  in  the 
development  of  the  secret ;  in  it  the  whole  charm  of  secrecy  con- 
centrates and  rises  to  its  highest  pitch  —  just  as  the  moment  of  the 
disappearance  of  an  object  brings  out  the  feeling  of  its  value  in 
the  most  intense  degree.  The  sense  of  power  connected  with 
possession  of  money  is  most  completely  and  greedily  concentrated 
for  the  soul  of  the  spendthrift  at  the  moment  at  which  this  power 
slips  from  his  hands.    Secrecy  also  is  sustained  by  the  conscious- 


466  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ness  that  it  might  he  exploited,  and  therefore  confers  power  to 
modify  fortunes,  to  produce  surprises,  joys,  and  calamities,  even 
if  the  latter  be  only  misfortunes  to  ourselves.  Hence  the  possi- 
bility and  the  temptation  of  treachery  plays  around  the  secret,  and 
the  external  danger  of  being  discovered  is  interwoven  with  the 
internal  danger  of  self-discovery,  which  has  the  fascination  of  the 
brink  of  a  precipice.  Secrecy  sets  barriers  between  men,  but  at 
the  same  time  offers  the  seductive  temptation  to  break  through  the 
barriers  by  gossip  or  confession.  This  temptation  accompanies 
the  psychical  life  of  the  secret  like  an  overtone.  Hence  the  socio- 
logical significance  of  the  secret,  its  practical  measure,  and  the 
mode  of  its  workings  must  be  found  in  the  capacity  or  the  inclina- 
tion of  the  initiated  to  keep  the  secret  to  himself,  or  in  his  resist- 
ance or  weakness  relative  to  the  temptation  to  betrayal.  From  the 
play  of  these  two  interests,  in  concealment  and  in  revelation, 
spring  shadings  and  fortunes  of  human  reciprocities  throughout 
their  whole  range.  If,  according  to  our  previous  analysis,  every 
human  relationship  has,  as  one  of  its  traits,  the  degree  of  secrecy 
within  or  around  it,  it  follows  that  the  further  development  of  the 
relationship  in  this  respect  depends  on  the  combining  proportions 
of  the  retentive  and  the  communicative  energies  —  the  former 
sustained  by  the  practical  interest  and  the  formal  attractiveness 
of  secrecy  as  such,  the  latter  by  inability  to  endure  longer  the 
tension  of  reticence,  and  by  the  superiority  which  is  latent,  so  to 
speak,  in  secrecy,  but  which  is  actualized  for  the  feelings  only  at 
the  moment  of  revelation,  and  often  also,  on  the  other  hand,  by 
the  joy  of  confession,  which  may  contain  that  sense  of  power  in 
negative  and  perverted  form,  as  self-abasement  and  contrition. 
All  these  factors,  which  determine  the  sociological  role  of 
secrecy,  are  of  individualistic  nature,  but  the  ratio  in  which  the 
qualities  and  the  complications  of  personalities  form  secrets, 
depends  at  the  same  time  upon  the  social  structure  upon  which  its 
life  rests.  In  this  connection  the  decisive  element  is  that  the 
secret  is  an  individualizing  factor  of  the  first  rank,  and  that  in  the 
typical  double  role;  i.  e.,  social  relationships  characterized  by  a 
large  measure  of  personal  differentiation  permit  and  promote 
secrecy  in  a  high  degree,  while,  conversely,  secrecy  serves  and 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  a(>7 

intensifies  such  differentiation.  In  a  small  and  restricted  circuit, 
construction  and  preservation  of  secrets  are  technically  difficult 
from  the  fact  that  each  is  too  close  to  the  circumstances  of  each, 
and  that  the  frequency  and  intimacy  of  contacts  carry  with  them 
too  great  temptation  to  disclose  what  might  otherwise  be  hidden. 
But  in  this  case  there  is  no  need  of  secrecy  in  a  high  degree, 
because  this  social  formation  usually  tends  to  level  its  members, 
and  every  peculiarity  of  being,  acting,  or  possessing  the  persist- 
ence of  which  requires  secrecy  is  abhorrent  to  it.  That  all  this 
changes  to  its  opposite  in  case  of  large  widening  of  the  circle  is 
a  matter-of-course.  In  this  connection,  as  in  so  many  other  par- 
ticulars, the  facts  of  monetary  relationships  reveal  most  distinctly 
the  specific  traits  of  the  large  circle.  Since  transfers  of  economic 
values  have  occurred  principally  by  means  of  money,  an  otherwise 
unattainable  secrecy  is  possible  in  such  transactions.  Three  pecu- 
liarities of  the  money  form  of  values  are  here  .important :  first, 
its  compressibility,  by  virtue  of  which  it  is  possible  to  make  a  man 
rich  by  slipping  into  his  hand  a  check  without  attracting  attention ; 
second,  its  abstractness  and  absence  of  qualitative  character,  in 
consequence  of  which  numberless  sorts  of  acquisitions  and  trans- 
fers of  possessions  may  be  covered  up  and  guarded  from  publicity 
in  a  fashion  impossible  so  long  as  values  could  be  possessed  only 
as  extended,  tangible  objects;  third,  its  long-distance  effective- 
ness, by  virtue  of  which  we  may  invest  it  in  the  most  widely 
removed  and  constantly  changing  values,  and  thus  withdraw  it 
utterly  from  the  view  of  our  nearest  neighbors.  These  facilities 
of  dissimulation  which  inhere  in  the  degree  of  extension  in  the 
use  of  money,  and  which  disclose  their  dangers  particularly  in 
dealings  with  foreign  money,  have  called  forth,  as  protective  pro- 
visions, publicity  of  the  financial  operations  of  corporations. 
This  points  to  a  closer  definition  of  the  formula  of  evolution  dis- 
cussed above;  viz.,  that  throughout  the  form  of  secrecy  there 
occurs  a  permanent  in-  and  out-flow  of  content,  in  which  what  is 
originally  open  becomes  secret,  and  what  was  originally  concealed 
throws  off  its  mystery.  Thus  we  might  arrive  at  the  paradoxical 
idea  that,  under  otherwise  like  circumstances,  human  associations 
require  a  definite  ratio  of  secrecy   which   merely  changes  its 


468  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

'  'objects;  letting  go  of  one,  it  seizes  another,  and  in  the  course  of 
this  exchange  it  keeps  its  quantum  unvaried.  We  may  even  fill 
out  this  general  scheme  somewhat  more  exactly.  It  appears  that 
with  increasing  telic  characteristics  of  culture  the  affairs  of 
people  at  large  become  more  and  more  public,  those  of  individuals 
more  and  more  secret.  In  less  developed  conditions,  as  observed 
above,  the  circumstances  of  individual  persons  cannot  protect 
themselves  in  the  same  degree  from  reciprocal  prying  and  inter- 
fering as  within  modern  types  of  life,  particularly  those  that  have 
developed  in  large  cities,  where  we  find  a  quite  new  degree  of 
reserve  and  discretion.  On  the  other  hand,  the  public  function- 
aries in  undeveloped  states  envelop  themselves  in  a  mystical 
authority,  while  in  maturer  and  wider  relations,  through  exten- 
sion of  the  range  of  their  prerogatives,  through  the  objectivity  of 
their  technique,  through  the  distance  that  separates  them  from 
most  of  the  individuals,  a  security  and  a  dignity  accrue  to  them 
which  are  compatible  with  publicity  of  their  behavior.  That 
earlier  secrecy  of  public  functions,  however,  betrayed  its  essential 
contradictoriness  in  begetting  at  once  the  counter-movements  of 
treachery,  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  espionage,  on  the  other.  As 
late  as  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  governments 
most  anxiously  covered  up  the  amounts  of  public  debts,  the  condi- 
tions of  taxation,  and  the  size  of  their  armies.  In  consequence  of 
this,  ambassadors  often  had  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  act  as 
informers,  to  get  possession  of  the  contents  of  letters,  and  to  pre- 
vail upon  persons  who  were  acquainted  with  valuable  facts,  even 
down  to  servants,  to  tattle  their  secrets.^  In  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, however,  publicity  takes  possession  of  national  affairs  to 
such  an  extent  that  the  governments  themselves  publish  the  official 
data  without  concealing,   which  no  government   would   earlier 

"  This  counter-movement  occurs  also  in  the  reverse  direction.  It  has  been 
observed,  in  connection  with  the  history  of  the  English  court,  that  the  actual 
court  cabals,  the  secret  whisperings,  the  organized  intrigues,  do  not  spring  up 
under  despotism,  but  only  after  the  king  has  constitutional  advisers,  when  the 
government  is  to  that  extent  a  system  open  to  view.  After  that  time  —  and  this 
applies  especially  since  Edward  II  —  the  king  begins  to  form  an  unofficial,  and 
at  the  same  time  subterranean,  circle  of  advisers,  in  contrast  with  the  ministers 
somehow  forced  upon  him.  This  body  brings  into  existence,  within  itself,  and 
through  endeavors  to  join  it,  a  chain  of  concealments  and  conspiracies. 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  469 

have  thought  possible.  Accordingly,  politics,  administration, 
justice,  have  lost  their  secrecy  and  inaccessibility  in  precisely  the 
degree  in  which  the  individual  has  gained  possibility  of  more  com- 
plete privacy,  since  modern  life  has  elaborated  a  technique  for 
isolation  of  the  affairs  of  individuals,  within  the  crowded  condi- 
tions of  great  cities,  possible  in  former  times  only  by  means  of 
spatial  separation. 

To  what  extent  this  development  is  to  be  regarded  as  advan- 
tageous depends  upon  social  standards  of  value.  Democracies  are 
bound  to  regard  publicity  as  the  condition  desirable  in  itself. 
This  follows  from  the  fundamental  idea  that  each  should  be 
informed  about  all  the  relationships  and  occurrences  with  which 
he  is  concerned,  since  this  is  a  condition  of  his  doing  his  part  with 
reference  to  them,  and  every  community  of  knowledge  contains 
also  the  psychological  stimulation  to  community  of  action.  It  is 
immaterial  whether  this  conclusion  is  entirely  binding.  If  an 
objective  controlling  structure  has  been  built  up,  beyond  the 
individual  interests,  but  nevertheless  to  their  advantage,  such 
a  structure  may  very  well,  by  virtue  of  its  formal  inde- 
pendence, have  a  rightful  claim  to  carry  on  a  certain  amount 
of  secret  functioning  without  prejudice  to  its  public  char- 
acter, so  far  as  real  consideration  of  the  interests  of  all  is  con- 
cerned. A  logical  connection,  therefore,  which  would  necessitate 
the  judgment  of  superior  worth  in  favor  of  the  condition  of  pub- 
licity, does  not  exist.  On  the  other  hand,  the  universal  scheme  of 
cultural  differentiation  puts  in  an  appearance  here:  that  which 
pertains  to  the  public  becomes  more  public,  that  which  belongs  to 
the  individual  becomes  more  private.  Moreover,  this  historical 
development  brings  out  the  deeper  real  significance :  that  which 
in  its  nature  is  public,  which  in  its  content  concerns  all,  becomes 
also  externally,  in  its  sociological  form,  more  and  more  public; 
while  that  which  in  its  inmost  nature  refers  to  the  self  alone  — 
that  is,  the  centripetal  affairs  of  the  individual  —  must  also  gain 
in  sociological  position  a  more  and  more  private  character,  a 
more  decisive  possibility  of  remaining  secret. 

While  secrecy,  therefore,  is  a  sociological  ordination  which 
characterizes  the  reciprocal  relation  of  group  elements,  or  rather 


470  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

in  connection  with  other  forms  of  reaction  constitutes  this  total 
relation,  it  may  further,  with  the  formation  of  "  secret  societies," 
extend  itself  over  the  group  as  a  whole.  So  long  as  the  being, 
doing,  and  having  of  an  individual  persist  as  a  secret,  his  general 
sociological  significance  is  isolation,  antithesis,  egoistic  indi- 
vidualization. In  this  case  the  sociological  meaning  of  the  secrecy 
is  external ;  as  relationship  of  him  who  has  the  secret  to  him  who 
does  not  have  it.  So  soon,  however,  as  a  group  as  such  seizes 
upon  secrecy  as  its  form  of  existence,  the  sociological  meaning 
of  the  secrecy  becomes  internal.  It  now  determines  the  reciprocal 
relations  of  those  who  possess  the  secret  in  common.  Since, 
however,  that  relation  of  exclusion  toward  the  uninitiated  exists 
here  also  with  its  special  gradations,  the  sociology  of  secret 
societies  presents  the  complicated  problem  of  ascertaining  the 
immanent  forms  of  a  group  which  are  determined  by  attitudes  of 
secrecy  on  the  part  of  the  same  toward  other  elements.  I  do  not 
preface  this  part  of  the  discussion  with  a  systematic  classification 
of  secret  societies,  which  would  have  only  an  external  historical 
interest.    The  essential  categories  will  appear  at  once. 

The  first  internal  relation  that  is  essential  to  a  secret  society  is 
the  reciprocal  confidence  of  its  members.  This  element  is  needed 
in  a  peculiar  degree,  because  the  purpose  of  maintaining  the 
secrecy  is,  first  of  all,  protection.  Most  radical  of  all  the  pro- 
tective provisions  is  certainly  that  of  invisibility.  At  this  point 
the  secret  society  is  distinguished  in  principle  from  the  individual 
who  seeks  the  protection  of  secrecy.  This  can  be  realized  only 
with  respect  to  specific  designs  or  conditions;  as  a  whole,  the 
individual  may  hide  himself  temporarily,  he  may  absent  himself 
from  a  given  portion  of  space;  but,  disregarding  wholly  abstruse 
combinations,  his  existence  cannot  be  a  secret.  In  the  case  of  a 
societary  unity,  on  the  contrary,  this  is  entirely  possible.  Its  ele- 
ments may  live  in  the  most  frequent  commerce,  but  that  they  com- 
pose a  society  —  a  conspiracy,  or  a  band  of  criminals,  a  religious 
conventicle,  or  an  association  for  sexual  extravagances  —  may 
remain  essentially  and  permanently  a  secret.  This  type,  in  which 
not  the  individuals  but  their  combination  is  concealed,  is  sharply 
distinguished  from  the  others,  in  which  the  social  formation  is 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  471 

unequivocally  known,  but  the  membership,  or  the  purpose,  or  the 
special  conditions  of  the  combination  are  secrets ;  as,  for  instance, 
many  secret  bodies  among  the  nature  i>eoples,  or  the  Freemasons. 
The  form  of  secrecy  obviously  does  not  afford  to  the  latter  types 
the  same  unlimited  protection  as  to  the  former,  since  what  is 
known  about  them  always  affords  a  point  of  attack  for  further 
intrusion.  On  the  other  hand,  these  relatively  secret  societies 
always  have  the  advantage  of  a  certain  variability.  Because  they 
are  from  the  start  arranged  on  the  basis  of  a  certain  degree  of 
publicity,  it  is  easier  for  them  to  accommodate  themselves  to  fur- 
ther betrayals  than  for  those  that  are  as  societies  entirely 
una  vowed.  The  first  discovery  very  often  destroys  the  latter, 
because  their  secret  is  apt  to  face  the  alternative,  whole  or  not  at 
all.  It  is  the  weakness  of  secret  societies  that  secrets  do  not 
remain  permanently  guarded.  Hence  we  say  with  truth :  "  A 
secret  that  two  know  is  no  longer  a  secret."  Consequently,  the 
protection  that  such  societies  afford  is  in  its  nature,  to  be  sure, 
absolute,  but  it  is  only  temporary,  and,  for  contents  of  positive 
social  value,  their  commitment  to  the  care  of  secret  societies  is  in 
fact  a  transitional  condition,  which  they  no  longer  need  after  they 
have  developed  a  certain  degree  of  strength.  Secrecy  is  finally 
analogous  only  with  the  protection  which  one  secures  by  evading 
interruptions.  It  consequently  serves  only  provisionally,  until 
strength  may  be  developed  to  cope  with  interruptions.  Under 
these  circumstances  the  secret  society  is  the  appropriate  social 
form  for  contents  which  are  at  an  immature  stage  of  develop- 
ment, and  thus  in  a  condition  peculiarly  liable  to  injury  from 
opposing  interests.  Youthful  knowledge,  religion,  morality, 
party,  is  often  weak  and  in  need  of  defense.  Hence  each  may 
find  a  recourse  in  concealment.  Hence  also  there  is  a  predestina- 
tion of  secret  societies  for  periods  in  which  new  life-contents  come 
into  existence  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  powers  that  be. 
The  eighteenth  century  affords  abundant  illustrations.  For 
instance,  to  cite  only  one  example,  the  elements  of  the  liberal  party 
were  present  in  Germany  at  that  time.  Their  emergence  in  a 
permanent  political  structure  was  postponed  by  the  power  of  the 
civic  conditions.     Accordingly,  the  secret  association   was  the 


472  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

form  in  which  the  germs  could  be  protected  and  cultivated,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  orders  of  the  Illuminati.  The  same  sort  of  protec- 
tion which  secrecy  affords  to  ascending  movements  is  also  secured 
from  it  during  their  decline.  Refuge  in  secrecy  is  a  ready  resort 
in  the  case  of  social  endeavors  and  forces  that  are  likely  to  be 
displaced  by  innovation.  Secrecy  is  thus,  so  to  speak,  a  transition 
stadium  between  being  and  not-being.  As  the  suppression  of  the 
German  communal  associations  began  to  occur,  at  the  close  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  through  the  increasing  power  of  the  central  gov- 
ernments, a  wide-reaching  secret  life  developed  within  these 
organizations.  It  was  characterized  by  hidden  assemblies  and 
conferences,  by  secret  enforcement  of  law,  and  by  violence  — 
somewhat  as  animals  seek  the  protection  of  concealment  when 
near  death.  This  double  function  of  secrecy  as  a  form  of  pro- 
tection, to  afford  an  intermediate  station  equally  for  progressing 
and  for  decaying  powers,  is  perhaps  most  obvious  in  the  case  of 
religious  movements.  So  long  as  the  Christian  communities  were 
persecuted  by  the  state,  they  were  often  obliged  to  withdraw  their 
meetings,  their  worship,  their  whole  existence,  from  public  view. 
So  soon,  however,  as  Christianity  had  become  the  state  religion, 
nothing  was  left  for  the  adherents  of  persecuted,  dying  paganism 
than  the  same  hiding  of  its  cultus  which  it  had  previously  forced 
upon  the  new  faith.  As  a  general  proposition,  the  secret  society 
emerges  everywhere  as  correlate  of  despotism  and  of  police  con- 
trol. It  acts  as  protection  alike  of  defense  and  of  offense  against 
the  violent  pressure  of  central  powers.  This  is  true,  not  alone  in 
political  relations,  but  in  the  same  way  within  the  church,  the 
school,  and  the  family. 

Corresponding  with  this  protective  character  of  the  secret 
society,  as  an  external  quality,  is,  as  already  observed,  the  inner 
quality  of  reciprocal  confidence  between  the  members.  This  is, 
moreover,  a  quite  specific  type  of  confidence,  viz.,  in  the  ability  to 
preserve  silence.  Social  unities  may  rest,  so  far  as  their  content 
is  concerned,  upon  many  sorts  of  presumption  about  grounds  of 
confidence.  They  may  trust,  for  example,  to  the  motive  of  busi- 
ness interest,  or  to  religious  conviction,  to  courage,  or  to  love,  to 
the  high  moral  tone,  or  —  in  the  case  of  criminal  combinations  — 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  A7Z 

to  the  radical  break  with  moral  imperatives.  When  the  society 
becomes  secret,  however,  there  is  added  to  the  confidence  deter- 
mined by  the  peculiar  purposes  of  the  society  the  further  formal 
confidence  in  ability  to  keep  still  —  evidently  a  faith  in  the  per- 
sonality, which  has,  sociologically,  a  more  abstract  character  than 
any  other,  because  every  possible  common  interest  may  be  sub- 
sumed under  it.  More  than  that,  exceptions  excluded,  no  kind  of 
confidence  requires  so  unbroken  subjective  renewal ;  for  when  the 
uncertainty  in  question  is  faith  in  attachment  or  energy,  in  moral- 
ity or  intelligence,  in  sense  of  honor  or  tact,  facts  are  much  more 
likely  to  be  observable  which  will  objectively  establish  the  degree 
of  confidence,  since  they  will  reduce  the  probability  of  deception 
to  a  minimum.  The  probability  of  betrayal,  however,  is  subject 
to  the  imprudence  of  a  moment,  the  weakness  or  the  agitation  of  a 
mood,  the  perhaps  unconscious  shading  of  an  accentuation.  The 
keeping  of  the  secret  is  something  so  unstable,  the  temptations 
to  betrayal  are  so  manifold,  in  many  cases  such  a  continuous 
path  leads  from  secretiveness  to  indiscretion,  that  unlimited  faith 
in  the  former  contains  an  incomparable  preponderance  of  the  sub- 
jective factor.  For  this  reason  those  secret  societies  whose  rudi- 
mentary forms  begin  with  the  secret  shared  by  two,  and  whose 
enormous  extension  through  all  times  and  places  has  not  even  yet 
been  appreciated,  even  quantitatively  —  such  societies  have 
exerted  a  highly  efficient  disciplinary  influence  upon  moral 
accountability  among  men.  For  there  resides  in  confidence  of  i 
men  toward  each  other  as  high  moral  value  as  in  the  companion  v 
fact  that  this  confidence  is  justified.  Perhaps  the  former  phe- 
nomenon is  freer  and  more  creditable,  since  a  confidence  reposed 
in  us  amounts  almost  to  a  constraining  prejudice,  and  to  dis- 
appoint it  requires  badness  of  a  positive  type.  On  the  contrary, 
we  "give"  our  faith  in  another.  It  cannot  be  delivered  on 
demand,  in  the  same  degree  in  which  it  can  be  realized  when 
spontaneously  offered. 

Meanwhile  the  secret  societies  naturally  seek  means  psycho- 
logically to  promote  that  secretiveness  which  cannot  be  directly 
forced.  The  oath,  and  threats  of  penalties,  are  here  in  the  fore- 
ground and  need  no  discussion.     More  interesting  is  the  fre- 


474  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

quently  encountered  technique  for  teaching  novices  the  art  of 
silence.  In  view  of  the  above-suggested  difficulties  of  guarding 
the  tongue  absolutely,  in  view  especially  of  the  tell-tale  connection 
which  exists  on  primitive  social  planes  between  thought  and 
expression  —  among  children  and  many  nature  peoples  thinking 
and  speaking  are  almost  one  —  there  is  need  at  the  outset  of 
learning  silence  once  for  all,  before  silence  about  any  particular 
matter  can  be  expected.  Accordingly,  we  hear  of  a  secret  order 
in  the  Molucca  Islands  in  which  not  merely  silence  about  his 
experiences  during  initiation  is  enjoined  upon  the  candidate,  but 
for  weeks  he  is  not  permitted  to  exchange  a  word  on  any  subject 
with  anybody,  even  in  his  own  family.  In  this  case  we  certainly 
have  the  operation  not  only  of  the  educational  factor  of  entire 
silence,  but  it  corresponds  with  the  psychical  undifferentiation  of 
this  cultural  level,  to  forbid  speech  in  general  in  a  period  in 
which  some  particular  silence  must  be  insured.  This  is  somewhat 
analogous  with  the  fact  that  immature  peoples  easily  employ  the 
death  penalty,  where  later  for  partial  sins  a  partial  punishment 
would  be  inflicted,  or  with  the  fact  that  similar  peoples  are  often 
moved  to  offer  a  quite  disproportionate  fraction  of  their  posses- 
sions for  something  that  momentarily  strikes  their  fancy.  It  is 
the  specific  "incapacity"  (Ungeschicklichkeit)  which  advertises 
itself  in  all  this;  for  its  essence  consists  in  its  incompetence  to 
undertake  the  particular  sort  of  inhibition  appropriate  to 
endeavors  after  a  strictly  defined  end.  The  unskilled  person 
moves  his  whole  arm  where  for  his  purpose  it  would  be  enough  to 
move  only  two  fingers,  the  whole  body  when  a  precisely  differ- 
entiated movement  of  the  arm  would  be  indicated.  In  like  man- 
ner, in  the  particular  types  of  cases  which  we  are  considering,  the 
preponderance  of  psychical  commerce,  which  can  be  a  matter  of 
logical  and  actual  thought-exchange  only  upon  a  higher  cul- 
tural level,  both  enormously  increases  the  daiiiger  of  volubility, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  leads  far  beyond  prohibition  of  the 
specific  act  which  would  embarrass  its  purposes,  and  puts  a 
ban  on  the  whole  function  of  which  such  act  would  be  an 
incident.  When,  on  the  other  hand,  the  secret  society  of  the 
Pythagoreans  prescribed  silence  for  the  novice  during  a  number 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  475 

of  years,  it  is  probable  that  the  aim  went  beyond  mere  peda- 
gogical discipline  of  the  members  in  the  art  of  silence,  not,  how- 
ever, with  special  reference  to  the  clumsiness  just  alluded  to,  but 
rather  with  the  aim  of  extending  the  differentiated  purpose  in  its 
own  peculiar  direction;  that  is,  the  aim  was  not  only  to  secure 
silence  about  specific  things,  but  through  this  particular  discipline 
the  adept  should  acquire  power  to  control  himself  in  general. 
The  society  aimed  at  severe  self-discipline  and  schematic  purity 
of  life,  and  whoever  succeeded  in  keeping  silence  for  years  was 
supposed  to  be  armed  against  seductions  in  other  directions. 

Another  means  of  placing  reticence  upon  an  objective  basis 
was  employed  by  the  Gallic  druids.  The  content  of  their  secrets 
was  deposited  chiefly  in  spiritual  songs,  which  every  druid  had 
to  commit  to  memory.  This  was  so  arranged,  however  —  espe- 
cially by  prohibition  of  putting  the  songs  in  writing  —  that  an 
inordinate  period  was  necessary  for  the  purpose,  in  some  cases 
twenty  years.  Through  this  long  duration  of  pupilage,  before 
anything  considerable  could  be  acquired  which  could  possibly  be 
betrayed,  there  grew  up  a  gradual  habit  of  reticence.  The  undis- 
ciplined mind  was  not  suddenly  assailed  by  the  temptation  to 
divulge  what  it  knew.  There  was  opportunity  for  gradual 
adaptation  to  the  duty  of  reticence.  The  other  regulation,  that 
the  songs  should  not  be  written  down,  had  much  more  thorough- 
going sociological  structural  relations.  It  was  more  than  a  pro- 
tective provision  against  revelation  of  the  secrets.  The  necessity^ 
of  depending  upon  tradition  from  person  to  person,  and  the  fact 
that  the  spring  of  knowledge  flowed  only  from  within  the  society, 
not  from  an  objective  piece  of  literature  —  this  attached  the  indi- 
vidual member  with  unique  intimacy  to  the  community.  It  gave 
him  the  feeling  that  if  he  were  detached  from  this  substance,  he 
would  lose  his  own,  and  would  never  recover  it  elsewhere.  We 
have  perhaps  not  yet  sufficiently  observed  to  what  extent,  in  a 
more  advanced  cultural  stage,  the  objectifications  of  intellectual 
labors  affect  the  capacity  of  the  individual  to  assert  inde- 
pendence. So  long  as  direct  tradition,  individual  instruction, 
and  more  than  all  the  setting  up  of  norms  by  personal  authori- 
ties,  still  determine  the  spiritual  life  of  the  individual,   he  is 


476  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

solidly  merged  in  the  environing,  living  group.  This  group 
alone  gives  him  the  possibility  of  a  fulfilled  and  spiritual  exist- 
ence. The  direction  of  those  connective  tissues  through  which 
the  contents  of  his  life  come  to  him,  run  perceptibly  at  every 
moment  only  between  his  social  milieu  and  himself.  So  soon, 
however,  as  the  labor  of  the  group  has  capitalized  its  out- 
put in  the  form  of  literature,  in  visible  works,  and  in  permanent 
examples,  the  former  immediate  flow  of  vital  fluid  between 
the  actual  group  and  the  individual  member  is  interrupted. 
The  life-process  of  the  latter  no  longer  binds  him  continuously 
and  without  competition  to  the  former.  Instead  of  that, 
he  can  now  sustain  himself  from  objective  sources,  not  depend- 
[ent  upon  the  actual  presence  of  former  authoratative  persons. 
There  is  relatively  little  efficacy  in  the  fact  that  this  now 
accumulated  stock  has  come  from  the  processes  of  the  social  mind. 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  often  the  labor  of  far  remote  generations 
quite  unconnected  with  the  individual's  feeling  of  present  values, 
which  is  crystallized  in  that  supply.  But,  more  than  that,  it  is 
before  all  else  the  form  of  the  objectivity  of  this  supply,  its 
detachment  from  the  subjective  personality,  by  virtue  of  which 
there  is  opened  to  the  individual  a  super-social  natural  source,  and 
his  mental  content  becomes  much  more  notably  dependent,  in 
kind  and  degree,  upon  his  powers  of  appropriation  than  upon  the 
conventionally  furnished  ideas.  The  peculiar  intimacy  of  asso- 
ciation within  the  secret  society,  of  which  more  must  be  said 
later,  and  which  gets  its  place  among  the  categories  of  the  feelings 
from  the  traits  of  the  specific  "confidence"  {Vertraucn)  char- 
acteristic of  the  order,  in  consequence  of  what  has  been  said  very 
naturally  avoids  committing  the  contents  of  its  mysteries  to  writ- 
ing, when  tradition  of  spiritual  contents  is  the  minor  aim  of  the 
association. 

In  connection  with  these  questions  about  the  technique  of 
secrecy,  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  concealment  is  by  no  means 
the  only  means  under  whose  protection  promotion  of  the  material 
interests  of  the  community  is  attempted.  The  facts  are  in  many 
ways  the  reverse.  The  structure  of  the  group  is  often  with  the 
direct  view  to  assurance  of  keeping  certain  subjects  from  general 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  ^77 

knowledge.  This  is  the  case  with  those  peculiar  types  of  secret 
society  whose  substance  is  an  esoteric  doctrine,  a  theoretical,  mys- 
tical, religious  gnosis.  In  this  case  secrecy  is  the  sociological  end- 
unto-itself.  The  issue  turns  upon  a  body  of  doctrine  to  be  kept 
from  publicity.  The  initiated  constitute  a  community  for  the  pur- 
pose of  mutual  guarantee  of  secrecy.  If  these  initiates  were 
merely  a  total  of  personalities  not  interdependent,  the  secret  would 
soon  be  lost.  Socialization  aflfords  to  each  of  these  individuals  a 
psychological  recourse  for  strengthening  him  against  temptations 
to  divulge  the  secret.  While  secrecy,  as  I  have  shown,  works \ 
toward  isolation  and  individualization,  socialization  is  a  counter-  : 
active  factor.  If  this  is  in  general  the  sociological  significance  of  » 
the  secret  society,  its  most  clear  emergence  is  in  the  case  of  those 
orders  characterized  above,  in  which  secrecy  is  not  a  mere  socio- 
logical technique,  but  socialization  is  a  technique  for  better  pro- 
tection of  the  secrecy,  in  the  same  way  that  the  oath  and  total 
silence,  that  threats  and  progressive  initiation  of  the  novices,  serve 
the  same  purpose.  All  species  of  socialization  shuffle  the  indi- 
vidualizing and  the  socializing  needs  back  and  forth  within  their 
forms,  and  even  within  their  contents,  as  though  promotion  of  a 
stable  combining  proportion  were  satisfied  by  introduction  of 
quantities  always  qualitatively  changing.  Thus  the  secret  society 
counterbalances  the  separatistic  factor  which  is  peculiar  to  every 
secret  by  the  very  fact  that  it  is  society. 

Secrecy  and  individualistic  separateness  are  so  decidedly  corre- 
latives that  with  reference  to  secrecy  socialization  may  play  two 
quite  antithetical  roles.  It  can,  in  the  first  place,  as  just  pointed 
out,  be  directly  sought,  to  the  end  that  during  the  subsequent  con- 
tinuance of  the  secrecy  its  isolating  tendency  may  be  in  part 
counteracted,  that  within  the  secret  order  the  impulse  toward 
community  may  be  satisfied,  while  it  is  vetoed  with  reference  to 
the  rest  of  the  world.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  secrecy  in 
principle  loses  relative  significance  in  cases  where  the  particular- 
ization  is  in  principle  rejected.  Freemasonry,  for  example, 
insists  that  it  purposes  to  become  the  most  universal  society,  "  the 
union  of  unions,"  the  only  one  that  repudiates  every  j>articularistic 
character  and  aims  to  appropriate  as  its  material  exclusively  that 


478  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

which  is  common  to  all  good  men.  Hand  in  hand  with  this 
increasingly  definite  tendency  there  grows  up  indifference  toward 
the  element  of  secrecy  on  the  part  of  the  lodges,  its  restriction  to 
the  merely  formal  externalities.  That  secrecy  is  now  promoted 
by  socialization,  and  no\V  abolished  by  it,  is  thus  by  no  means  a 
contradiction.  These  are  merely  diverse  forms  in  which  its  con- 
nection with  individualization  expresses  itself  —  somewhat  as  the 
interdependence  of  weakness  and  fear  shows  itself  both  in  the  fact 
that  the  weak  seek  social  attachments  in  order  to  protect  them- 
selves, and  in  the  fact  that  they  avoid  social  relations  when  they 
encounter  greater  dangers  within  them  than  in  isolation. 

The  above-mentioned  gradual  initiation  of  the  members 
belongs,  moreover,  to  a  very  far-reaching  and  widely  ramifying 
division  of  sociological  forms,  within  which  secret  societies  are 
marked  in  a  special  way.  It  is  the  principle  of  the  hierarchy,  of 
graded  articulation,  of  the  elements  of  a  society.  The  refinement 
and  the  systematization  with  which  secret  societies  particularly 
work  out  their  division  of  labor  and  the  grading  of  their  members, 
go  along  with  another  trait  to  be  discussed  presently ;  that  is,  with 
their  energetic  consciousness  of  their  life.  This  life  substitutes 
for  the  organically  more  instinctive  forces  an  incessantly  regu- 
lating will ;  for  growth  from  within,  constructive  purposefulness. 
This  rationalistic  factor  in  their  upbuilding  cannot  express  itself 
more  distinctly  than  in  their  carefully  considered  and  clear-cut 
architecture.  I  cite  as  example  the  structure  of  the  Czechic  secret 
order,  Omladina,  which  was  organized  on  the  model  of  a  group 
of  the  Carbonari,  and  became  known  in  consequence  of  a  judicial 
process  in  1893.  The  leaders  of  the  Omladina  are  divided  into 
"  thumbs  "  and  "  fingers."  In  secret  session  a  "  thumb  "  is  chosen 
by  the  members.  He  selects  four  "fingers."  The  latter  then 
choose  another  "  thumb,"  and  this  second  "  thumb  "  presents  him- 
self to  the  first  "thumb."  The  second  "thumb"  proceeds  to 
choose  four  more  "fingers";  these,  another  "thumb;"  and  so 
the  articulation  continues.  The  first  "thumb"  knows  all  the 
other  "  thumbs,"  but  the  remaining  "  thumbs  "  do  not  know  each 
other.  Of  the  "fingers"  only  those  four  know  each  other  who 
are  subordinate  to  one  and  the  same  "  thumb."     All  transactions 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  479 

of  the  Omladifia  are  conducted  by  the  first  "  thumb,"  the  "  dicta- 
tor." He  informs  the  other  "thumbs"  of  all  proposed  under- 
takings. The  "  thumbs "  then  issue  orders  to  their  respective 
subordinates,  the  "  fingers."  The  latter  in  turn  instruct  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Omladina  assigned  to  each.  The  circumstance  that 
the  secret  society  must  be  built  up  from  its  base  by  calculation  and 
conscious  volition  evidently  affords  free  play  for  the  peculiar 
passion  which  is  the  natural  accompaniment  of  such  arbitrary 
processes  of  construction,  such  foreordaining  programs.  All 
schematology  —  of  science,  of  conduct,  of  society  —  contains  a 
reserved  power  of  compulsion.  It  subjects  a  material  which  is 
outside  of  thought  to  a  form  which  thought  has  cast.  If  this  is 
true  of  all  attempts  to  organize  groups  according  to  a  priori  prin- 
ciples, it  is  true  in  the  highest  degree  of  the  secret  society,  which 
does  not  grow,  which  is  built  by  design,  which  has  to  reckon  with 
a  smaller  quantum  of  ready-made  building  material  than  any 
despotic  or  socialistic  scheme.  Joined  to  the  interest  in  making! 
plans,  and  the  constructive  impulse,  which  are  in  themselves  com-| 
pelling  forces,  we  have  in  the  organization  of  a  society  in  accord- 1 
ance  with  a  preconceived  outline,  with  fixed  positions  and  ranks,] 
the  special  stimulus  of  exercising  a  decisive  influence  over  a 
future  and  ideally  submissive  circle  of  human  beings.  This 
impulse  is  decisively  separated  sometimes  from  every  sort  of 
utility,  and  revels  in  utterly  fantastic  construction  of  hierarchies. 
Thus,  for  example,  in  the  "high  degrees"  of  degenerate  Free- 
masonry. For  purposes  of  illustration  I  call  attention  to  merely 
a  few  details  from  the  "  Order  of  the  African  Master-Builders." 
It  came  into  existence  in  Germany  and  France  after  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  and  although  it  was  constructed  according 
to  the  principles  of  the  Masonic  order,  it  aimed  to  destroy  Free- 
masonry. The  government  of  the  very  small  society  was 
administered  by  fifteen  officials:  summus  register,  summi  locum 
tenentes,  prior,  sub-prior,  magister,  etc.  The  degrees  of  the  order 
were  seven :  the  Scottish  Apprentices,  the  Scottish  Brothers,  the 
Scottish  Masters,  the  Scottish  Knights,  the  Eques  Regii,  the 
Eques  de  Secta  Consueta,  the  Eques  Silentii  Regii;  etc.,  etc. 
Parallel  with  the  development  of  the  hierarchy,  and  with 


480  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

similar  limitations,  we  observe  within  secret  societies  the  structure 
of  the  ritual.  Here  also  their  peculiar  emancipation  from  the 
prejudices  of  historical  organizations  permits  them  to  build  upon 
a  self-laid  basis  extreme  freedom  and  opulence  of  form.  There 
is  perhaps  no  external  tendency  which  so  decisively  and  with  such 
characteristic  differences  divides  the  secret  from  the  open  society, 
as  the  valuation  of  usages,  formulas,  rites,  and  the  peculiar  pre- 
ponderance and  antithetic  relation  of  all  these  to  the  body  of  pur- 
poses which  the  society  represents.  The  latter  are  often  guarded 
with  less  care  than  the  secret  of  the  ritual.  Progressive  Free- 
masonry emphasizes  expressly  that  it  is  not  a  secret  combination ; 
that  it  has  no  occasion  to  conceal  the  roll  of  its  members,  its  pur- 
poses, or  its  acts;  the  oath  of  silence  refers  exclusively  to  the 
forms  of  the  Masonic  rites.  Thus  the  student  order  of  the 
Amicisten,  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  has  this  charac- 
teristic provision  in  sec.  i  of  its  statutes : 

The  most  sacred  duty  of  each  member  is  to  preserve  the  profoundest 
silence  with  reference  to  such  things  as  concern  the  well-being  of  the  order. 
Among  these  belong:  symbols  of  the  order  and  signs  of  recognition,  names 
of  fraternity  brothers,  ceremonies,  etc. 

Later  in  the  same  statute  the  purpose  and  character  of  the 
order  are  disclosed  and  precisely  specified!  In  a  book  of  quite 
limited  size  which  describes  the  constitution  and  character  of  the 
Carbonari,  the  account  of  the  ceremonial  forms  and  usages,  at  the 
reception  of  new  members  and  at  meetings,  covers  seventy-five 
pages !  Further  examples  are  needless.  The  role  of  the  ritual  in 
secret  societies  is  sufficiently  well  known,  from  the  religio-mystical 
orders  of  antiquity,  on  the  one  hand,  to  the  Rosenkreutzer  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  the  most  notorious  criminal  bands.  The 
sociological  motivations  of  this  connection  are  approximately  the 
following. 

That  which  is  striking  about  the  treatment  of  the  ritual  in 
secret  societies  is  not  merely  the  precision  with  which  it  is 
observed,  but  first  of  all  the  anxiety  with  which  it  is  guarded  as  a 
secret  —  as  though  the  unveiling  of  it  were  precisely  as  fatal  as 
betrayal  of  the  purposes  and  actions  of  the  society,  or  even  the 
existence  of  the  society  altogether.    The  utility  of  this  is  probably 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  481 

in  the  fact  that,  through  this  absorption  of  a  whole  complex  of 
external  forms  into  the  secret,  the  whole  range  of  action  and 
interest  occupied  by  the  secret  society  becomes  a  well-rounded 
unity.  The  secret  society  must  seek  to  create  among  the  cate- 
gories peculiar  to  itself,  a  species  of  life-totality.  Around  the 
nucleus  of  purposes  which  the  society  strongly  emphasizes,  it 
therefore  builds  a  structure  of  formulas,  like  a  body  around  a 
soul,  and  places  both  alike  under  the  protection  of  secrecy,  because 
only  so  can  a  harmonious  whole  come  into  being,  in  which  one 
part  supports  the  other.  That  in  this  scheme  secrecy  of  the 
external  is  strongly  accentuated,  is  necessary,  because  secrecy  is 
not  so  much  a  matter  of  course  with  reference  to  these  super- 
ficialities, and  not  so  directly  demanded  as  in  the  case  of  the  real 
interests  of  the  society.  This  is  not  greatly  different  from  the 
situation  in  military  organizations  and  religious  communities. 
The  reason  why,  in  both,  schematism,  the  body  of  forms,  the  fixa- 
tion of  behavior,  occupies  so  large  space,  is  that,  as  a  general  pro- 
position, both  the  military  and  the  religious  career  demand  the 
whole  man;  that  is,  each  of  them  projects  the  whole  life  upon  a 
special  plane ;  each  composes  a  variety  of  energies  and  interests, 
from  a  particular  point  of  view,  into  a  correlated  unity.  The 
secret  society  usually  tries  to  do  the  same.  One  of  its  essentiaP 
characteristics  is  that,  even  when  it  takes  hold  of  individuals  only 
by  means  of  partial  interests,  when  the  society  in  its  substance  is 
a  purely  utilitarian  combination,  yet  it  claims  the  whole  man  in  a 
higher  degree,  it  combines  the  personalities  more  in  their  whole 
compass  with  each  other,  and  commits  them  more  to  reciprocal 
obligations,  than  the  same  common  purpose  would  within  an  open 
society.  Since  the  symbolism  of  the  ritual  stimulates  a  wide  range 
of  vaguely  bounded  feelings,  touching  interests  far  in  excess  of 
those  that  are  definitely  apprehended,  the  secret  society  weaves 
these  latter  interests  into  an  aggregate  demand  upon  the  indi- 
vidual. Through  the  ritual  form  the  specific  purpose  of  the  secret 
society  is  expanded  into  a  comprehensive  unity  and  totality,  both 
sociological  and  subjective.  Moreover,  through  such  formalism, 
just  as  through  the  hierarchical  structure  above  discussed,  tfie 
secret  society  constitutes  itself  a  sort  of  counterpart  of  the  official 


482  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

world  with  which  it  places  itself  in  antithesis.  Here  we  have  a 
case  of  the  universally  emerging  sociological  norm;  viz.,  struc- 
tures, which  place  themselves  in  opposition  to  and  detachment 
from  larger  structures  in  which  they  are  actually  contained, 
nevertheless  repeat  in  themselves  the  forms  of  the  greater  struc- 
tures. Only  a  structure  that  in  some  way  can  count  as  a  whole 
is  in  a  situation  to  hold  its  elements  firmly  together.  It  borrows 
the  sort  of  organic  completeness,  by  virtue  of  which  its  members 
are  actually  the  channels  of  a  unifying  life-stream,  from  that 
greater  whole  to  which  its  individual  members  were  already 
adapted,  and  to  which  it  can  most  easily  offer  a  parallel  by  means 
of  this  very  imitation. 

The  same  relation  affords  finally  the  following  motive  for  the 
sociology  of  the  ritual  in  secret  societies.  Every  such  society 
contains  a  measure  of  freedom,  which  is  not  really  provided  for 
in  the  structure  of  the  surrounding  society.  Whether  the  secret 
society,  like  the  Vehme,  complements  the  inadequate  judicature 
of  the  political  area ;  or  whether,  as  in  the  case  of  conspiracies  or 
criminal  bands,  it  is  an  uprising  against  the  law  of  that  area ;  or 
whether,  as  in  the  case  of  the  "  mysteries,"  they  hold  themselves 
outside  of  the  commands  and  prohibitions  of  the  greater  area  — 
in  either  case  the  apartness  (Heraussonderung)  which  charac- 
terizes the  secret  society  has  the  tone  of  a  freedom.  In  exercise 
of  this  freedom  a  territory  is  occupied  to  which  the  norms  of  the 
surrounding  society  do  not  apply.  The  nature  of  the  secret 
society  as  such  is  autonomy.  It  is,  however,  of  a  sort  which 
approaches  anarchy.  Withdrawal  from  the  bonds  of  unity  which 
procure  general  coherence  very  easily  has  as  consequences  for  the 
secret  society  a  condition  of  being  without  roots,  an  absence  of 
firm  touch  with  life  (Lebensgefuhl) ,  and  of  restraining  reserva- 
tions. The  fixedness  and  detail  of  the  ritual  serve  in  part  to 
counterbalance  this  deficit.  Here  also  is  manifest  how  much  men 
need  a  settled  proportion  between  freedom  and  law ;  and,  further- 
more, in  case  the  relative  quantities  of  the  two  are  not  prescribed 
for  him  from  a  single  source,  how  he  attempts  to  reinforce  the 
given  quantum  of  the  one  by  a  quantum  of  the  other  derived  from 
any  source  whatsoever,  until  such  settled  proportion  is  reached. 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  483 

With  the  ritual  the  secret  society  voluntarily  imposes  upon  itself 
a  formal  constraint,  which  is  demanded  as  a  complement  by  its 
material  detachment  and  self-sufficiency.  It  is  characteristic  that, 
among  the  Freemasons,  it  is  precisely  the  Americans  —  who  enjoy 
the  largest  political  freedom  —  of  whom  the  severest  unity  in| 
manner  of  work,  the  greatest  uniformity  of  the  ritual  of  all  lodges, 
are  demanded;  while  in  Germany  —  where  the  otherwise  suffi- 
cient quantum  of  bondage  leaves  little  room  for  a  counter- 
demand  in  the  direction  of  restrictions  upon  freedom — more 
freedom  is  exercised  in  the  manner  in  which  each  individual 
lodge  carries  on  its  work.  The  often  essentially  meaningless, 
schematic  constraint  of  the  ritual  of  the  secret  society  is  therefore 
by  no  means  a  contradiction  of  its  freedom  bordering  on  anarchy, 
its  detachment  from  the  norms  of  the  circle  which  contains  it. 
Just  as  widespread  existence  of  secret  societies  is,  as  a  rule,  a 
proof  of  public  unfreedom,  of  a  policy  of  police  regulation,  of 
police  oppression;  so,  conversely,  ritual  regulation  of  these 
societies  from  within  proves  a  freedom  and  enfranchisement  in 
principle  for  which  the  equilibrium  of  human  nature  produces  the 
constraint  as  a  counter-influence. 

These  last  considerations  have  already  led  to  the  methodo- 
logical principle  with  reference  to  which  I  shall  analyze  the  still 
outstanding  traits  of  secret  societies.  The  problem  is,  in  a  word, 
to  what  extent  these  traits  prove  to  be  in  essence  quantitative 
modifications  of  the  typical  traits  of  socialization  in  general.  In 
order  to  establish  this  manner  of  representing  secret  societies,  we 
must  again  review  their  status  in  the  whole  complex  of  socio- 
logical forms. 

The  secret  element  in  societies  is  a  primary  sociological  fact, 
a  definite  mode  and  shading  of  association,  a  formal  relationship 
of  quality  in  immediate  or  mediate  reciprocity  with  other  factors 
which  determine  the  habit  of  the  group-elements  or  of  the  group. 
The  secret  society,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  secondary  structure; 
i.  e.,  it  arises  always  only  within  an  already  complete  society. 
Otherwise  expressed,  the  secret  society  is  itself  characterized  by 
its  secret,  just  as  other  societies,  and  even  itself,  are  characterized 
by  their  superiority  and  subordination,  or  by  their  offensive  pur- 


484  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

poses,  or  by  their  initiative  character.  That  they  can  build  them- 
selves up  with  such  characteristics  is  possible,  however,  only 
under  the  presupposition  of  an  already  existing-  society.  The 
secret  society  sets  itself  as  a  special  society  in  antithesis  with  the 
wider  association  included  within  the  greater  society.  This  anti- 
thesis, whatever  its  purpose,  is  at  all  events  intended  in  the  spirit 
of  exclusion.  Even  the  secret  society  which  proposes  only  to 
render  the  whole  community  a  definite  service  in  a  completely 
unselfish  spirit,  and  to  dissolve  itself  after  performing  the  service, 
obviously  regards  its  temporary  detachment  from  that  totality  as 
the  unavoidable  technique  for  its  purpose.  Accordingly,  none  of 
the  narrower  groups  which  are  circumscribed  by  larger  groups 
are  compelled  by  their  sociological  constellation  to  insist  so 
strongly  as  the  secret  society  upon  their  formal  self-sufficiency. 
Their  secret  encircles  them  like  a  boundary,  beyond  which  there  is 
nothing  but  the  materially,  or  at  least  formally,  antithetic,  which 
therefore  shuts  up  the  society  within  itself  as  a  complete  unity. 
In  the  groupings  of  every  other  sort,  the  content  of  the  group- 
life,  the  actions  of  the  members  in  the  sphere  of  rights  and  duties, 
may  so  fill  up  their  consciousness  that  within  it  the  formal  fact  of 
socialization  under  normal  conditions  plays  scarcely  any  role. 
The  secret  society,  on  the  other  hand,  can  on  no  account  permit 
the  definite  and  emphatic  consciousness  of  its  members  that  they 
constitute  a  society  to  escape  from  their  minds.  The  always  per- 
ceptible and  always  to-be-guarded  pathos  of  the  secret  lends  to  the 
form  of  union  which  depends  upon  the  secret,  as  contrasted  with 
the  content,  a  predominant  significance,  as  compared  with  other 
unions. 

In  the  secret  society  there  is  complete  absence  of  organic 
growth,  of  the  character  of  instinct  in  accumulation,  of  all 
unforced  matter  of  course  with  respect  to  belonging  together  and 
forming  a  unity.  No  matter  how  irrational,  mystical,  impres- 
sionistic {gefiihlsmasstg)  their  contents,  the  way  in  which  they 
are  constructed  is  always  conscious  and  intentional.  Throughout 
their  derivation  and  life  consciousness  of  being  a  society  is  per- 
manently accentuated.  The  secret  society  is.  on  that  account,  the 
antithesis  of  all  genetic  (triebhaft)  societies,  in  which  the  unifica- 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  485 

tion  is  more  or  less  only  the  expression  of  the  natural  growing 
together  of  elements  whose  life  has  common  roots.  Its  socio- 
psychological  form  is  invariably  that  of  the  teleological  combina- 
tion {Zweckverhand) .  This  constellation  makes  it  easy  to  under- 
stand that  the  specifications  of  form  in  the  construction  of  secret 
societies  attain  to  peculiar  definitenessf  and  that  their  essential 
sociological  traits  develop  as  mere  quantitative  heightenings  of 
quite  general  types  of  relationship. 

One  of  these  latter  has  already  been  indicated;  viz.,  the 
characterization  and  the  coherence  of  the  society  through  closure 
toward  the  social  environment.  To  this  end  the  often  complicated 
signs  of  recognition  contribute.  Through  these  the  individual 
offers  credentials  of  membership  in  the  society.  Indeed,  in  the 
times  previous  to  the  general  use  of  writing,  such  signs  were 
more  imperative  for  this  use  than  later.  At  present  their  other 
sociological  uses  overtop  that  of  mere  identification.  So  long  as 
there  was  lack  of  documentary  credentials,  an  order  whose  sub- 
divisions were  in  different  localities  utterly  lacked  means  of 
excluding  the  unauthorized,  of  securing  to  rightful  claimants 
only  the  enjoyment  of  its  benefits  or  knowledge  of  its  affairs, 
unless  these  signs  were  employed.  These  were  disclosed  only  to 
the  worthy,  who  were  pledged  to  keep  them  secret,  and  who  could 
use  them  for  purposes  of  legitimation  as  members  of  the  order 
wherever  it  existed.  This  purpose  of  drawing  lines  of  separation 
very  definitely  characterizes  the  development  manifested  by  cer- 
tain secret  orders  among  the  nature  peoples,  especially  in  Africa 
and  among  the  Indians.  These  orders  are  composed  of  men 
alone,  and  pursue  essentially  the  purpose  of  magnifying  their 
separation  from  the  women.  The  members  appear  in  disguises, 
when  they  come  upon  the  stage  of  action  as  members,  and  it  is 
customary  to  forbid  women,  on  pain  of  severe  penalties,  to 
approach  them.  Still,  women  have  occasionally  succeeded  in 
penetrating  their  veil  of  secrecy  sufficiently  to  discover  that  the 
horrible  figures  are  not  ghosts,  but  their  own  husbands.  When 
this  occurred,  the  orders  have  often  lost  their  whole  significance, 
and  have  fallen  to  the  level  of  a  harmless  masquerade.  The 
undifferentiated   sensuous  conceptions  of  nature  people  cannot 


486  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

form  a  more  complete  notion  of  the  separateness  which  orders  of 
this  sort  wish  to  emphasize,  than  in  the  concealment,  by  disguise 
or  otherwise,  of  those  who  have  the  desire  and  the  right  thus  to 
abstract  themselves.  That  is  the  rudest  and  externally  most  radi- 
cal mode  of  concealment;  viz.,  covering  up  not  merely  the  special 
act  of  the  person,  but  at  once  the  whole  person  obscures  himself ; 
the  order  does  not  do  anything  that  is  secret,  but  the  totality  of 
persons  comprising  it  makes  itself  into  a  secret.  This  form  of  the 
secret  society  corresponds  completely  with  the  primitive  intel- 
lectual plane  in  which  the  whole  agent  throws  himself  entire  into 
each  specific  activity;  that  is,  in  which  the  activity  is  not  yet 
sufficiently  objectified  to  give  it  a  character  which  less  than  the 
whole  man  can  share.  Hence  it  is  equally  explicable  that  so  soon 
as  the  disguise-secret  is  broken  through,  the  whole  separation 
becomes  ineffective,  and  the  order,  with  its  devices  and  its  mani- 
festations, loses  at  once  its  inner  meaning. 

In  the  case  in  question  the  separation  has  the  force  of  an 
expression  of  value.  There  is  separation  from  others  because 
there  is  unwillingness  to  give  oneself  a  character  common  with 
that  of  others,  because  there  is  desire  to  signalize  one's  own 
superiority  as  compared  with  these  others.  Everywhere  this 
motive  leads  to  the  formation  of  groups  which  are  obviously  in 
sharp  contrast  with  those  formed  in  pursuit  of  material  {sachlich) 
purposes.  As  a  consequence  of  the  fact  that  those  who  want  to 
distinguish  themselves  enter  into  combination,  there  results  an 
aristocracy  which  strengthens  and,  so  to  speak,  expands  the  self- 
consciousness  of  the  individuals  through  the  weight  of  their  sum. 
That  exclusiveness  and  formation  of  groups  are  thus  bound 
together  by  the  aristocracy-building  motive  gives  to  the  former 
in  many  cases  from  the  outset  the  stamp  of  the  "  special "  in  the 
sense  of  value.  We  may  observe,  even  in  school  classes,  how 
small,  closely  attached  groups  of  comrades,  through  the  mere 
formal  fact  that  they  form  a  special  group,  come  to  consider  them- 
selves an  elite,  compared  with  the  rest  who  are  unorganized: 
while  the  latter,  by  their  enmity  and  jealousy,  involuntarily  recog- 
nize that  higher  value.  In  these  cases  secrecy  and  pretense  of 
secrecy  (Geheimnistnerei)  are  means  of  building  higher  the  wall 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  487 

of  separation,  and  therein  a  reinforcement  of  the  aristocratic 
nature  of  the  group. 

This  significance  of  secret  associations,  as  intensification  of 
sociological  exclusiveness  in  general,  appears  in  a  very  striking 
way  in  political  aristocracies.  Among  the  requisites  of  aristo- 
cratic control  secrecy  has  always  had  a  place.  It  makes  use  of 
the  psychological  fact  that  the  unknown  as  such  appears  terrible, 
powerful,  and  threatening.  In  the  first  place,  it  employs  this  fact 
in  seeking  to  conceal  the  numerical  insignificance  of  the  govern- 
ing class.  In  Sparta  the  number  of  warriors  was  kept  so  far  as 
possible  a  secret,  and  in  Venice  the  same  purpose  was  in  view  in 
the  ordinance  prescribing  simple  black  costumes  for  all  the  nohili. 
Conspicuous  costumes  should  not  be  permitted  to  make  evident  to 
the  people  the  petty  number  of  the  rulers.  In  that  particular  case 
the  policy  was  carried  to  complete  concealment  of  the  inner  circle 
of  the  highest  rulers.  The  names  of  the  three  state  inquisitors 
were  known  only  to  the  Council  of  Ten  who  chose  them.  In  some 
of  the  Swiss  aristocracies  one  of  the  most  important  magistracies 
was  frankly  called  "  the  secret  officials  "  {die  Heimlichen),  and  in 
Freiburg  the  aristocratic  families  were  known  as  die  heimlichen 
Geschlechter.  On  the  other  hand,  the  democratic  principle  is 
bound  up  with  the  principle  of  publicity,  and,  to  the  same  end,  the 
tendency  toward  general  and  fundamental  laws.  The  latter  relate 
to  an  unlimited  number  of  subjects,  and  are  thus  in  their  nature 
public.  Conversely,  the  employment  of  secrecy  within  the  aristo- 
cratic regime  is  only  the  extreme  exaggeration  of  that  social 
exclusion  and  exemption  for  the  sake  of  which  aristocracies  are 
wont  to  oppose  general,  fundamentally  sanctioned  laws. 

In  case  the  notion  of  the  aristocratic  passes  over  from  the 
politics  of  a  group  to  the  disposition  (Gesinnung)  of  an 
individual,  the  relationship  of  separation  and  secrecy  attains  to  a 
plane  that  is,  to  outward  appearance,  completely  changed.  Per- 
fect distinction  (  Vornehmheit)  in  both  moral  and  mental  respects, 
despises  all  concealment,  because  its  inner  security  makes  it 
indifferent  to  what  others  know  or  do  not  know  about  us,  whether 
their  estimate  of  us  is  true  or  false,  high  or  low.  From  the  stand- 
point of  such  superiority,  secrecy  is  a  concession  to  outsiders,  a 


488  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

dependence  of  behavior  upon  consideration  of  them.  Hence  the 
"  mask  "  which  so  many  regard  as  sign  and  proof  of  their  aristo- 
cratic soul,  of  disregard  of  the  crowd,  is  direct  proof  of  the 
significance  that  the  crowd  has  for  such  people.  Tfie  mask  of 
those  whose  distinction  is  real  is  that  the  many  can  at  best  not 
understand  them,  that  they  do  not  see  them,  so  to  speak,  even 
when  they  show  themselves  without  disguise. 

The  bar  against  all  external  to  the  circle,  which,  as  universal 
sociological  form-fact,  makes  use  of  secrecy  as  a  progressive 
technique,  gains  a  peculiar  coloring  through  the  multiplicity  of 
degrees,  through  which  initiation  into  the  last  mysteries  of  secret 
societies  is  wont  to  occur,  and  which  threw  light  above  upon 
another  sociological  trait  of  secret  societies.  As  a  rule,  a  solemn 
pledge  is  demanded  of  the  novice  that  he  will  hold  secret  every- 
thing which  he  is  about  to  experience,  before  even  the  first  stages 
of  acceptance  into  the  society  occur.  Therewith  is  the  absolute 
and  formal  separation  which  secrecy  can  effect,  put  into  force. 
Yet,  since  under  these  conditions  the  essential  content  or  purpose 
of  the  order  is  only  gradually  accessible  to  the  neophyte  — 
whether  the  purpose  is  the  complete  purification  and  salvation  of 
the  soul  through  the  consecration  of  the  mysteries,  or  whether  it 
is  the  absolute  abolition  of  all  moral  restraint,  as  with  the 
Assassins  and  other  criminal  societies  —  the  separation  in 
material  respects  is  otherwise  ordered ;  i.  e.,  it  is  made  more  con- 
tinuous and  more  relative.  When  this  method  is  employed,  the 
initiate  is  in  a  condition  nearer  to  that  of  the  outsider.  He  needs 
to  be  tested  and  educated  up  to  the  point  of  grasping  the  whole  or 
the  center  of  the  association.  Thereby,  however,  a  protection  is 
obviously  afforded  to  the  latter,  an  isolation  of  it  from  the  exter- 
nal world,  which  goes  beyond  the  protection  gained  from  the 
entrance  oath.  Care  is  taken  —  as  was  incidentally  shown  by 
the  example  of  the  druids  —  that  the  still  untried  shall  also  have 
very  little  to  betray  if  he  would,  inasmuch  as,  within  the  secret 
principle  which  surrounds  the  society  as  a  whole,  graduated 
secrecy  produces  at  the  same  time  an  elastic  zone  of  defense  for 
that  which  is  inmost  and  essential.  The  antithesis  of  the  exotic 
and  the  esoteric  members,  as  we  have  it  in  the  case  of  the 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  489 

Pythagoreans,  is  the  most  striking  form  of  this  protective 
arrangement.  The  circle  of  the  only  partially  initiated  con- 
stitutes to  a  certain  extent  a  buffer  area  against  the  totally 
uninitiated.  As  it  is  everywhere  the  double  function  of  the 
"mean"  to  bind  and  to  separate — or,  rather,  as  it  plays  only 
one  role,  which  we,  however,  according  to  our  apperceptive 
categories,  and  according  to  the  angle  of  our  vision,  designate 
as  uniting  and  separating — so  in  this  connection  the  unity 
of  activities  which  externally  clash  with  each  other  appears 
in  the  clearest  light.  Precisely  because  the  lower  grades  of  the 
society  constitute  a  mediating  transition  to  the  actual  center  of  the 
secret,  they  bring  about  the  gradual  compression  of  the  sphere 
of  repulsion  around  the  same,  which  affords  more  secure  protec- 
tion to  it  than  the  abruptness  of  a  radical  standing  wholly  with- 
out or  wholly  within  could  secure. 

Sociological  self-sufficiency  presents  itself  in  practical  effect 
as  grouj>-egoism.  The  group  pursues  its  purposes  with  the  same 
disregard  of  the  purposes  of  the  structure  external  to  itself,  which 
in  the  case  of  the  individual  is  called  egoism.  For  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  individual  this  attitude  very  likely  gets  a  moral  justi- 
fication from  the  fact  that  the  group-purposes  in  and  of  them- 
selves have  a  super-individual,  objective  character;  that  it  is  often 
'  impossible  to  name  any  individual  who  would  directly  profit  from 
the  operation  of  the  group  egoism ;  that  conformity  to  this  group 
program  often  demands  unselfishness  and  sacrifice  from  its  pro- 
moters. The  point  at  issue  here,  however,  is  not  the  ethical  valua- 
tion, but  the  detachment  of  the  group  from  its  environments, 
which  the  group  egoism  effects  or  indicates.  In  the  case  of  a 
small  group,  which  wants  to  maintain  and  develop  itself  within 
a  larger  circle,  there  will  be  certain  limits  to  this  policy,  so  long 
as  it  has  to  be  pursued  before  all  eyes.  No  matter  how  bitterly 
a  public  society  may  antagonize  other  societies  of  a  larger 
organization,  or  the  whole  constitution  of  the  same,  it  must 
always  assert  that  realization  of  its  ultimate  purposes  would 
redound  to  the  advantage  of  the  whole,  and  the  necessity  of 
this  ostensible  assertion  will  at  all  events  place  some  restraint 
upon  the  actual  egoism  of  its  action.     In  the  case  of  secret 


490  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OP  SOCIOLOGY 

societies  this  necessity  is  absent,  and  at  least  the  possibility 
is  given  of  a  hostility  toward  other  societies,  or  toward  the  whole 
of  society,  which  the  open  society  cannot  admit,  and  consequently 
cannot  exercise  without  restrictions.  In  no  way  is  the  detachment 
of  the  secret  society  from  its  social  environment  so  decisively 
symbolized,  and  also  promoted,  as  by  the  dropping  of  every 
hypocrisy  or  actual  condescension  which  is  indispensable  in 
co-ordinating  the  open  society  with  the  teleology  of  the  environ- 
ing whole. 

In  spite  of  the  actual  quantitative  delimitation  of  every  real 
society,  there  is  still  a  considerable  number  the  inner  tendency  of 
which  is :  Whoever  is  not  excluded  is  included.  Within  certain 
political,  religious,  and  class  i>eripheries,  everyone  is  reckoned  as 
of  the  association  who  satisfies  certain  conditions,  mostly  involun- 
tary, and  given  along  with  his  existence.  Whoever,  for  example, 
is  born  within  the  territory  of  a  state,  unless  peculiar  circum- 
stances make  him  an  exception,  is  a  member  of  the  highly  complex 
civic  society.  The  member  of  a  given  social  class  is,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  included  in  the  conventions  and  forms  of  attachment 
pertaining  to  the  same,  if  he  does  not  voluntarily  or  involuntarily 
make  himself  an  outsider.  The  extreme  is  offered  by  the  claim 
of  a  church  that  it  really  comprehends  the  totality  of  the  human 
race,  so  that  only  historical  accidents,  sinful  obduracy,  or  a  special 
divine  purpose  excludes  any  persons  from  the  religious  com- 
munity which  ideally  anticipates  even  those  not  in  fact  within  the 
pale.  Here  is,  accordingly,  a  parting  of  two  ways,  which  evidently 
signify  a  differentiation  in  principle  of  the  sociological  meaning 
of  societies  in  general,  however  they  may  be  confused,  and  their 
definiteness  toned  down  in  practice.  In  contrast  with  the  funda- 
mental principle:  Whoso  is  not  expressly  excluded  is  included, 
stands  the  other :  Whoever  is  not  expressly  included  is  excluded. 
The  latter  type  is  presented  in  the  most  decisive  purity  by  the 
secret  societies.  The  unlimited  character  of  their  separation, 
conscious  at  every  step  of  their  development,  has,  both  as  cause 
and  as  effect,  the  rule  that  whoever  is  not  expressly  adopted  is 
thereby  expressly  excluded.  The  Masonic  fraternity  could  not 
better  support  its  recently  much  emphasized  assertion  that  it  is 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  491 

not  properly  a  secret  order,  than  through  its  simultaneously 
published  ideal  of  including-  all  men,  and  thus  of  representing 
humanity  as  a  whole. 

Corresponding  with  intensification  of  separateness  from  the 
outer  world,  there  is  here,  as  elsewhere,  a  similar  access  of  coher- 
ence within,  since  these  are  only  the  two  sides  or  forms  of  mani- 
festation of  one  and  the  same  sociological  attitude.  A  purpose 
which  stimulates  formation  of  a  secret  union  among  men  as  a 
rule  peremptorily  excludes  such  a  preponderating  portion  of  the 
general  social  environment  from  participation  that  the  possible 
and  actual  participants  acquire  a  scarcity  value.  These  must  be 
handled  carefully,  because,  ceteris  paribus,  it  is  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  replace  them  than  is  the  case  in  an  ordinary  society.  More 
than  that,  every  quarrel  within  the  secret  society  brings  with  it 
the  danger  of  betrayal,  to  avoid  which  in  this  case  the  motive  of 
self-preservation  in  the  individual  is  likely  to  co-operate  with  the 
motive  of  the  self-preservation  of  the  whole.  Finally,  with  the 
defection  of  the  secret  societies  from  the  environing  social  syn- 
theses, many  occasions  of  conflict  disappear.  Among  all  the 
limitations  of  the  individual,  those  that  come  from  association  in 
secret  societies  always  occupy  an  exceptional  status,  in  contrast 
with  which  the  open  limitations,  domestic  and  civic,  religious 
and  economic,  those  of  class  and  of  friendship,  however  manifold 
their  content,  still  have  a  quite  different  measure  and  manner  of 
efficiency.  It  requires  the  comparison  with  secret  societies  to 
make  clear  that  the  demands  of  open  societies,  lying  so  to  speak 
in  one  plane,  run  across  each  other.  As  they  carry  on  at  the  same 
time  an  open  competitive  struggle  over  the  strength  and  the  inter- 
est of  the  individual,  within  a  single  one  of  these  spheres,  the 
individuals  come  into  sharp  collision,  because  each  of  them  is  at 
the  same  time  solicited  by  the  interests  of  other  spheres.  In  secret 
societies,  in  view  of  their  sociological  isolation,  such  collisions 
are  very  much  restricted.  The  purposes  and  programs  of  secret 
societies  require  that  competitive  interests  from  that  plane  of  the 
open  society  should  be  left  outside  the  door.  Since  the  secret 
society  occupies  a  plane  of  its  own  —  few  individuals  belonging 
to  more  than  one  secret  society  —  it  exercises  a  kind  of  absolute 


492  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

sovereignty  over  its  members.  This  control  prevents  conflicts 
among  them  which  easily  arise  in  the  open  type  of  co-ordination. 
The  "King's  peace"  (Burgfriede)  v^hich  should  prevail  within 
every  society  is  promoted  in  a  formally  unsurpassed  manner 
within  secret  societies  through  their  peculiar  and  exceptional 
limitations.  It  appears,  indeed,  that,  entirely  apart  from  this 
more  realistic  ground,  the  mere  form  of  secrecy  as  such  holds  the 
associates  safer  than  they  would  otherwise  be  from  disturbing 
influences,  and  thereby  make  concord  more  feasible.  An  Eng- 
lish statesman  has  attempted  to  discover  the  source  of  the  strength 
of  the  English  cabinet  in  the  secrecy  which  surrounds  it.  Every- 
one who  has  been  active  in  public  life  knows  that  a  small  collec- 
tion of  people  may  be  brought  to  agreement  much  more  easily  if 
their  transactions  are  secret. 

Corresponding  with  the  peculiar  degree  of  cohesion  within 
secret  societies  is  the  definiteness  of  their  centralization.  They 
furnish  examples  of  an  unlimited  and  blind  obedience  to  leaders, 
such  as  occurs  elsewhere  of  course ;  but  it  is  the  more  remarkable 
here,  in  view  of  the  frequent  anarchical  and  negative  character 
toward  all  other  law.  The  more  criminal  the  purposes  of  a  secret 
society,  the  more  unlimited  is  likely  to  be  the  power  of  the  leaders, 
and  the  more  cruel  its  exercise.  The  Assassins  in  Arabia;  the 
Chauffeurs,  a  predatory  society  with  various  branches  that  rav- 
aged in  France,  particularly  in  the  eighteenth  century;  the  Gar- 
dunas  in  Spain,  a  criminal  society  that,  from  the  seventeenth  to 
the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  had  relations  with  the 
Inquisition  —  all  these,  the  nature  of  which  was  lawlessness  and 
rebellion,  were  under  one  commander,  whom  they  sometimes  set 
over  themselves,  and  whom  they  obeyed  without  criticism  or 
limitation.  To  this  result  not  merely  the  correlation  of  demand 
from  freedom  and  for  union  contributes,  as  we  have  observed  it 
in  case  of  the  severity  of  the  ritual,  and  in  the  present  instance  it 
binds  together  the  extremes  of  the  two  tendencies.  The  excess  of 
freedom,  which  such  societies  possessed  with  reference  to  all 
otherwise  valid  norms,  had  to  be  offset,  for  the  sake  of  the 
equilibrium  of  interests,  by  a  similar  excess  of  submissiveness 
and  resigning  of  the  individual  will.     More  essential,  however. 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  493 

was  probably  the  necessity  of  centralization,  which  is  the  con- 
dition of  existence  for  the  secret  society,  and  especially  when, 
like  the  criminal  band,  it  lives  off  the  surrounding  society, 
when  it  mingles  with  this  society  in  many  radiations  and 
actions,  and  when  it  is  seriously  threatened  with  treachery 
and  diversion  of  interests  the  moment  the  most  invariable 
attachment  to  one  center  ceases  to  prevail.  It  is  conseqeuntly 
typical  that  the  secret  society  is  exposed  to  peculiar  dangers, 
especially  when,  for  any  reasons  whatever,  it  does  not  develop 
a  powerfully  unifying  authority.  The  Waldenses  were  in 
nature  not  a  secret  society.  They  became  a  secret  society  in 
the  thirteenth  century  only,  in  consequence  of  the  external  pres- 
sure, which  made  it  necessary  to  keep  themselves  from  view.  It 
became  impossible,  for  that  reason,  to  hold  regular  assemblages, 
and  this  in  turn  caused  loss  of  unity  in  doctrine.  There  arose  a 
number  of  branches,  with  isolated  life  and  development,  fre- 
quently in  a  hostile  attitude  toward  each  other.  They  went  into 
decline  because  they  lacked  the  necessary  and  reinforcing  attri- 
bute of  the  secret  society,  viz.,  constantly  efficient  centralization. 
The  fact  that  the  dynamic  significance  of  Freemasonry  is  obvi- 
ously not  quite  in  proportion  with  its  extension  and  its  resources 
is  probably  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  extensive  autonomy  of 
its  parts,  which  have  neither  a  unified  organization  nor  a  central 
administration.  Since  their  common  life  extends  only  to  funda- 
mental principles  and  signs  of  recognition,  these  come  to  be 
virtually  only  norms  of  equality  and  of  contact  between  man  and 
man,  but  not  of  that  centralization  which  holds  together  the  forces 
of  the  elements,  and  is  the  correlate  of  the  apartness  of  the  secret 
society. 

It  is  nothing  but  an  exaggeration  of  this  formal  motive  when, 
as  is  often  the  case,  secret  societies  are  led  by  unknown  chiefs. 
It  is  not  desirable  that  the  lower  grades  should  know  whom  they 
are  obeying.  This  occurs  primarily,  to  be  sure,  for  the  sake  of 
guarding  the  secret,  and  with  this  in  view  the  device  is  carried  to 
the  point  of  constructing  such  a  secret  society  as  that  of  the 
Welfic  Knights  in  Italy.  The  order  operated  at  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century  in  the  interest  of  Italian  liberation  and 


494  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

unification.  At  each  of  its  seats  it  had  a  supreme  council  of  six 
persons,  who  were  not  mutually  acquainted,  but  dealt  with  each 
other  only  through  a  mediator  who  was  known  as  "  The  Visible." 
This,  however,  is  by  no  means  the  only  utility  of  the  secret  head- 
ship. It  means  rather  the  most  extreme  and  abstract  sublimation 
of  centralized  coherence.  The  tension  between  adherent  and 
leader  reaches  the  highest  degree  when  the  latter  withdraws  from 
the  range  of  vision.  There  remains  the  naked,  merciless  fact,  so 
to  speak,  modified  by  no  personal  coloring,  of  obedience  pure  and 
simple,  from  which  the  superordinated  subject  has  disappeared. 
If  even  obedience  to  an  impersonal  authority,  to  a  mere  magis- 
tracy, to  the  representative  of  an  objective  law,  has  the  character 
of  unbending  severity,  this  obedience  mounts  still  higher,  to  the 
level  of  an  uncanny  absoluteness,  so  soon  as  the  commanding 
personality  remains  in  principle  hidden.  For  if,  along  with  the 
visibility  of  the  ruler,  and  acquaintance  with  him,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  individual  suggestion,  the  force  of  the  personality, 
also  vanish  from  the  commanding  relationship;  yet  at  the  same 
time  there  also  disappear  from  the  relationship  the  limitations, 
i.  e.,  the  merely  relative,  the  "human,"  so  to  speak,  which  are 
attributes  of  the  single  person  who  can  be  encountered  in  actual 
experience.  In  this  case  obedience  must  be  stimulated  by  the 
feeling  of  being  subject  to  an  intangible  power,  not  strictly 
defined,  so  far  as  its  boundaries  are  concerned ;  a  power  nowhere 
to  be  seen,  but  for  that  reason  everywhere  to  be  expected.  The 
sociologically  universal  coherence  of  a  group  through  the  unity 
of  the  commanding  authority  is,  in  the  case  of  the  secret  society 
with  unknown  headship,  shifted  into  a  focus  imaginarius,  and  it 
attains  therewith  its  most  distinct  and  intense  form. 

The  sociological  character  of  the  individual  elements  of  the 
secret  society,  corresponding  with  this  centralized  subordination, 
is  their  individualization.  In  case  the  society  does  not  have  pro- 
motion of  the  interests  of  its  individual  members  as  its  immediate 
purpose,  and,  so  to  speak,  does  not  go  outside  of  itself,  but  rather 
uses  its  members  as  means  to  externally  located  ends  and  activities 
—  in  such  case  the  secret  society  in  turn  manifests  a  heightened 
degree  of  self-abnegation,  of  leveling  of  individuality,  which  is 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  495 

already  an  incident  of  the  social  state  in  general,  and  with  which 
the  secret  society  outweighs  the  above-emphasized  individualizing 
and  differentiating  character  of  the  secrecy.  This  begins  with  the 
secret  orders  of  the  nature  peoples,  whose  appearance  and  activi- 
ties are  almost  always  in  connection  with  use  of  disguises,  so  that 
an  expert  immediately  infers  that  wherever  we  find  the  use  of 
disguises  (Masken)  among  nature  peoples,  they  at  least  indicate 
a  probability  of  the  existence  of  secret  orders.  It  is.  to  be  sure,  a 
part  of  the  essence  of  the  secret  order  that  its  members  conceal 
themselves,  as  such.  Yet,  inasmuch  as  the  given  man  stands  forth 
and  conducts  himself  quite  unequivocably  as  a  member  of  the 
secret  order,  and  merely  does  not  disclose  which  otherwise  known 
individuality  is  identical  with  this  member,  the  disappearance  of 
the  personality,  as  such,  behind  his  role  in  the  secret  society  is 
most  strongly  emphasized.  In  the  Irish  conspiracy  which  was 
organized  in  America  in  the  seventies  under  the  name  Clan-na- 
g^el,  the  individual  members  were  not  designated  by  their  names, 
but  only  by  numbers.  This,  of  course,  was  with  a  view  to  the 
practical  purpose  of  secrecy.  Nevertheless,  it  shows  to  what 
extent  secrecy  suppresses  individuality.  Among  persons  who 
figure  only  as  numbers,  who  perhaps  —  as  occurs  at  least  in 
analogous  cases  —  are  scarcely  known  to  the  other  members  by 
their  personal  names,  leadership  will  proceed  with  much  less  con- 
sideration, with  much  more  indifference  to  individual  washes  and 
capacities,  than  if  the  union  includes  each  of  its  members  as  a 
personal  being.  Not  less  effective  in  this  respect  are  the  extensive 
role  and  the  severity  of  the  ritual.  All  of  this  always  signifies 
that  the  object  mold  has  become  master  over  the  personal  in 
membership  and  in  activity.  The  hierarchical  order  admits  the 
individual  merely  as  agent  of  a  definite  role;  it  likewise  holds  in 
readiness  for  each  participant  a  conventional  garb,  in  which  his 
personal  contour  disappears.  It  is  merely  another  name  for  this 
effacement  of  the  differentiated  personality,  when  secret  societies 
cultivate  a  high  degree  of  relative  equality  among  the  members. 
This  is  so  far  from  being  in  contradiction  of  the  despotic  character 
of  their  constitutions  that  in  all  sorts  of  other  groupings  despotism 
finds  its  correlate  in  the  leveling  of  the  ruled.    Within  the  secret 


496  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

society  there  often  exists  between  the  members  a  fraternal  equality 
which  is  in  sharp  and  purposeful  contrast  with  their  differences 
in  all  the  other  situations  of  their  lives.  Typical  cases  in  point 
appear,  on  the  one  hand,  in  secret  societies  of  a  religio-ethical 
character,  which  strongly  accentuate  the  element  of  brotherhood ; 
on  the  other  hand,  in  societies  of  an  illegal  nature.  Bismarck 
speaks  in  his  memoirs  of  a  widely  ramified  pederastic  organization 
in  Berlin,  which  came  under  his  observation  as  a  young  judicial 
officer ;  and  he  emphasizes  "  the  equalizing  effect  of  co-operative 
practice  of  the  forbidden  vice  through  all  social  strata."  This 
depersonalizing,  in  which  the  secret  society  carries  to  an  excessive 
degree  a  typical  relationship  between  individual  and  society, 
appears  finally  as  the  characteristic  irresponsibility.  In  this  con- 
nection, too,  physical  disguise  (Maske)  is  the  primitive  phe- 
nomenon. Most  of  the  African  secret  orders  are  alike  in  repre- 
senting themselves  by  a  man  disguised  as  a  forest  spirit.  He 
commits  at  will  upon  whomsoever  he  encounters  any  sort  of  vio- 
lence, even  to  robbery  and  murder.  No  responsibility  attaches  to 
him  for  his  outrages,  and  evidently  this  is  due  solely  to  the  dis- 
guise. That  is  the  somewhat  unmanageable  form  under  which 
such  societies  cause  the  personality  of  their  adherents  to  dis- 
\  appear,  and  without  which  the  latter  would  undoubtedly  be  over- 
taken by  revenge  and  punishment.  Nevertheless,  responsibility 
is  quite  as  immediately  joined  with  the  ego  —  philosophically,  too, 
the  whole  responsibility  problem  is  merely  a  detail  of  the  problem 
of  the  ego  —  in  the  fact  that  removing  the  marks  of  identity  of 
the  person  has,  for  the  naive  understanding  in  question,  the  effect 
of  abolishing  responsibility.  Political  finesse  makes  no  less  use  of 
this  correlation.  In  the  American  House  of  Representatives  the 
real  conclusions  are  reached  in  the  standing  committees,  and  they 
are  almost  always  ratified  by  the  House.  The  transactions  of 
these  committies,  however,  are  secret,  and  the  most  important 
portion  of  legislative  activity  is  thus  concealed  from  public  view. 
This  being  the  case,  the  political  responsibility  of  the  repre- 
sentatives seems  to  be  largely  wiped  out,  since  no  one  can  be 
made  responsible  for  proceedings  that  cannot  be  observed.  Since 
the  shares  of  the  individual  persons  in  the  transactions  remain 


THE  SOCIOLOGY  OF  SECRECY  497 

hidden,  the  acts  of  committees  and  of  the  House  seem  to  be  those 
of  a  super-individual  authority.  The  irresponsibiHty  is  here  also 
the  consequence  or  the  symbol  of  the  same  intensified  sociological 
de-individualization  which  goes  with  the  secrecy  of  group-action. 
In  all  directorates,  faculties,  committees,  boards  of  trustees,  etc., 
whose  transactions  are  secret,  the  same  thing  holds.  The  indi- 
vidual disappears  as  a  person  in  the  anonymous  member  of  the 
ring,  so  to  speak,  and  with  him  the  responsibility,  which  has  no 
hold  upon  him  in  his  intangible  special  character. 

Finally,  this  one-sided  intensification  of  universal  sociological 
traits  is  corroborated  by  the  danger  with  which  the  great  sur- 
rounding circle  rightly  or  wrongly  believes  itself  to  be  threatened 
from  the  secret  society.  Wherever  there  is  an  attempt  to  realize 
strong  centralization,  especially  of  a  political  type,  special  organi- 
zations of  the  elements  are  abhorred,  purely  as  such,  entirely  apart 
from  their  content  and  purposes.  As  mere  unities,  so  to  speak, 
they  engage  in  competition  with  the  central  principle.  The  central 
power  wants  to  reserve  to  itself  the  prerogative  of  binding  the 
elements  together  in  a  form  of  common  unity.  The  jealous  zeal 
of  the  central  power  against  every  special  society  (Sonderbund) 
runs  through  all  political  history.  A  characteristic  type  is  pre- 
sented by  the  Swiss  convention  of  1481,  according  to  which  no 
separate  alliances  were  to  be  formed  between  any  of  the  ten  con- 
federated states.  Another  is  presented  by  the  persecution  of  the 
associations  of  apprentices  by  the  despotism  of  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries.  A  third  appears  in  the  tendency  to  dis- 
franchise local  political  bodies,  so  often  manifested  by  the  modem 
state.  This  danger  from  the  special  organization  for  the  sur- 
rounding whole  appears  at  a  high  potency  in  the  case  of  the  secret 
society.  Men  seldom  have  a  calm  and  rational  attitude  toward 
strangers  or  persons  only  partially  known.  The  folly  which  treats 
the  unknown  as  the  non-existent,  and  the  anxious  imaginative- 
ness which  inflates  the  unknown  at  once  into  gigantic  dangers  and 
horrors,  are  wont  to  take  turns  in  guiding  human  actions. 
Accordingly,  the  secret  society  seems  to  be  dangerous  simply 
because  it  is  secret.  Since  it  cannot  be  surely  known  that  any 
special  organization  whatever  may  not  some  day  turn  its  legally 


498  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

accumulated  powers  to  some  undesired  end,  and  since  on  that 
account  there  is  suspicion  in  principle  on  the  part  of  central 
powers  toward  organizations  of  subjects,  it  follows  that,  in  the 
case  of  organizations  which  are  secret  in  principle,  the  suspicion 
that  their  secrecy  conceals  dangers  is  all  the  more  natural.  The 
societies  of  Orangemen,  which  were  organized  at  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century  in  England  for  the  suppression  of 
Catholicism,  avoided  all  public  discussion,  and  operated  only  in 
secret,  through  personal  bonds  and  correspondence.  But  this 
very  secrecy  gave  them  the  appearance  of  a  public  danger.  The 
suspicion  arose  "  that  men  who  shrank  from  appealing  to  public 
opinion  meditated  a  resort  to  force."  Thus  the  secret  society, 
purely  on  the  ground  of  its  secrecy,  appears  dangerously  related 
to  conspiracy  against  existing  powers.  To  what  extent  this  is  a 
heightening  of  the  universal  political  seriousness  of  special  organi- 
zations, appears  very  plainly  in  such  an  occurrence  as  the  follow- 
ing: The  oldest  Germanic  guilds  afforded  to  their  members  an 
effective  legal  protection,  and  thus  to  that  extent  were  substitutes 
for  the  state.  On  the  one  hand,  the  Danish  kings  regarded 
them  as  supports  of  public  order,  and  they  consequently  favored 
them.  On  the  contrary,  however,  they  appeared,  for  the  same 
reason,  to  be  direct  competitors  with  the  state.  For  that  reason 
the  Prankish  capitularies  condemned  them,  and  the  condemnation 
even  took  the  form  of  branding  them  as  conspiracies.  The  secret 
association  is  in  such  bad  repute  as  enemy  of  central  powers  that, 
conversely,  every  politica!ly  disapproved  association  must  be 
accused  of  such  hostility ! 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO.    Ill  AND 

IV 


HERBERT  E.  FLEMING 
University  of  Chicago 


III.    LITERARY  PERIODICALS  FOLLOWING  THE  CHICAGO  FIRE 

"  I  found  Chicago  wood  and  clay,"  a  mighty  Kaiser  said, 
Then  flung  upon  the  sleeping  mart  his  royal  robes  of  red. 

And  so  the  swift  evangels  ran  by  telegraphic  time, 
And  brought  the  cheer  of  Christendom   from   every  earthly  clime; 
Celestial  fire  flashed  round  the  globe,  from  Norway  to  Japan, 
Proclaimed  the  manhood  of  the  race,  the  brotherhood  of  man! 

They  all  were  angels  in  disguise,  from  hamlet,  field  and  mart, 
Chicago,s  fire  had  warmed  the  World  that  had  her  woe  by  heart. 
"  Who  is  my  neighbor  ?  "   One  and  all :    "  We  see  her  signal  light. 
And  she  is  our  only  neighbor  now,  this  wild  October  night !  " 

— Benj.  F.  Taylor,  in  the  Lakeside  Monthly,  October,  1873. 

The  whole  nation  and  the  whole  world  centered  attention 
upon  Chicago  on  October  8  and  9,  1871.  On  these  days  flames, 
starting  on  the  West  Side,  swept  through  the  heart  of  the  busi- 
ness district  to  the  very  shore  of  the  lake,  like  prairie  fire 
through  stubble;  then  leaped  over  the  Chicago  river,  traversed 
the  North  side,  died  away  there;  and  left  the  lusty,  young 
giant  city  of  marvelous  growth  biuned  and  prostrate.  A 
stream  of  sympathy  from  the  people  of  the  New  World  and  the 
Old  World  poured  in  upon  the  citizens  of  Chicago.  The  effect 
is  shown  in  the  pages  of  the  literary  periodicals  which  survived 
the  catastrophe,  and  in  those  of  the  many  new  ones  started 
in  the  years  of  the  seventies  following  the  fire.  From  them  it 
may  be  seen  that  the  fire  melted  some  of  the  barriers  of  western 
sectionalism.  The  world-wide  sympathy  caused  the  Chicago 
literary  men  to  feel   after  a  world-wide  point  of  view,   more 

490 


500  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

consciously  than  they  had  done  before  under  the  merely 
nationalizing  influence  of  the  Civil  War. 

The  outside  aid  was  a  great  stimulus  to  local  energy,  helping 
the  ambitious  rebuilders  of  the  city  to  start  upon  a  remarkable 
period  of  business  enterprise;  a  period  which,  along  with  success 
in  more  material  lines,  led  to  the  establishment  of  literary 
periodicals  of  kinds  that  were  money-makers.  Not  only  food  and 
clothing  for  the  sufferers,  but  goods  for  the  merchants  on  long- 
time credit,  and  capital  on  easy  terms,  came  in  large  quantities 
from  other  parts  of  America  and  from  Europe.  All  this,  added 
to  their  own  determined  spirit,  led  Chicago  men  not  merely  to 
rebuild  on  a  larger  scale,  but  also  to  launch  new  enterprises. 
Among  such  were  papers  of  the  "family-story"  literary  order. 

That  the  typical  ventures  of  this  period  were  not  of  a  higher 
literary  type  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  the  "family-story" 
paper  was  the  most  promising  for  quick  returns  in  cash.  In  fact, 
it  is  because  investments  in  high-grade  publishing  in  general  do 
not  yield  returns  more  quickly  that  the  development  of  serious 
publishing  has  continued  to  be  comparatively  slow  in  Chicago. 
In  an  article  on  "Chicago  as  a  Publishing  Center"  in  "The  Com- 
mercial Association  Number"  of  the  Chicago  Evening  Post, 
March  8,  1905,  Mr.  T.  J.  Zimmerman,  managing  editor  of 
System,  a  successful  Chicago  magazine  of  information  on  busi- 
ness, puts  this  point  as  follows: 

The  whole  history  and  present  condition  of  the  publishing  business  in 
Chicago  may  be  summed  up  in  this  statement :  the  westerner  is  looking  for 
quick  profits;  when  he  makes  an  investment  of  money  and  labor,  he  wants 
to  know  what  it  is  going  to  bring,  and  he  wants  to  see  the  results  at  once. 
In  the  publishing  business — that  is,  real,  sincere  publishing — this  is  impos- 
sible. The  initial  investment  in  a  book  or  magazine  is  heavy.  And  not  only 
this;  returns  are  spread  over  a  long  period  of  time.  Westerners  have  not 
gone  into  the  publishing  field  to  a  greater  extent,  because  there  have  been 
so  many  opportunities  at  hand  for  quick  returns  into  which  their  energies 
could  be  turned. 

Twenty  years  before  the  Chicago  fire  it  had  been  discovered 
in  New  York  that  a  popular  story  paper  would  bring  returns  to 
an  investor.    And  we  have  already  seen  in  the  Chicago  periodi- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  501 

cals  of  the  sixties  a  drift  toward  this  "family-story"  type.  In 
1872  the  Chicago  Ledger  was  founded  in  direct  imitation  of  the 
New  York  Ledger.  Concerning  the  "Popular  Story  Papers," 
in  a  section  on  "The  Weekly  Literary  Press,"  Mr.  S.  N.  D. 
North,  commissioner  for  the  special  Census  Report  on  "The 
Newspaper  and  Periodical  Press"  (1880),  says  in  part: 

The  most  notable  successes  attained  by  American  publications  not  of 
a  purely  news  character  are  found  in  the  type  of  periodical  of  which  Robert 
Bonner,  of  the  New  York  Ledger,  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  fortunate 
discoverer.  Mr.  Bonner  purchased  the  Ledger  in  1851,  and  shortly  there- 
after converted  it  from  a  commercial  sheet  into  a  family  newspaper,  excluding 
from  its  contents  everjrthing  relating  to  the  business  and  news  of  the  day, 
and  substituting  therefor  a  series  of  continued  and  short  stories,  not 
generally  of  the  highest  class  of  fiction.  But  he  attracted  public  attention  to 
his  venture  by  engaging  the  best-known  literary  men  of  the  country  to 
write  for  the  Ledger  over  their  own  signatures.  It  rapidly  rose  to  an  enor- 
mous circulation,  which  at  times  has  reached  as  high  as  400,000  per  issue.  The 
Ledger  may  be  said  to  be  the  original  of  that  class  of  literary  publications. 
The  imitations  of  the  Ledger  have  been  numerous,  and  frequently  their 
publication  has  been  attended  with  great  pecuniary  success. 

The  Chicago  Ledger  has  met  with  such  success. 

This  paper  was  begun  in  connection  with  a  newspaper  plate 
supply  business.  For  about  twenty  years  Samuel  H.  Williams,  a 
man  of  ability,  was  the  editor.  Like  the  New  York  Ledger, 
the  Chicago  Ledger,  during  its  first  few  years,  made  a  leading 
feature  of  stories  which  were  literary  in  the  accepted  sense  of 
that  word.  Containing  this  grade  of  literature,  printed  on 
cheap  paper,  and  sold  at  $1  for  fifty-two  numbers,  it  met  with 
immediate  favor,  especially  in  the  rural  districts,  during  the 
seventies.  By  1879  the  Chicago  Ledger  had  a  circulation  of 
10,000,  which  was  a  paying  start  for  it. 

Little  by  little,  however,  the  higher  class  of  well-written 
fiction  was  dropped.  One  reason  for  this  was  competition  intro- 
duced by  the  advent  of  the  "Lakeside  Library,"  published  by 
Donnelly,  Lloyd  &  Co.,  1875-77.  The  books  of  this  "library" 
were  tri-monthly  pamphlets,  the  first  of  the  kind,  containing 
cheap  reprints  of  standard  fiction,  selling  at  ten  cents  per  copy 
and  attracting  millions  of  readers.     The  stories  of  the  Chicago 


502  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Ledger  took  on  that  more  thrilling  tone  which  is  retained  by 
those  appearing  in  the  current  issues  of  1906.  Although  selected 
by  an  editor  who  is  the  author  of  contributions  accepted  by 
high-grade  magazines,  their  form  is  unfinished.  The  contents, 
however,  are  not  of  an  immoral  tone.  In  fact,  the  stories,  like 
the  melodramas  of  the  cheap  theater,  often  point  a  moral,  with  a 
not  harmful  effect. 

The  motto  of  the  W.  D.  Boyce  Co.,  the  present  publishers, 
as  stated  by  Colonel  William  C.  Hunter,  the  secretary  and  active 
manager  of  the  Chicago  Ledger,  is :  "The  higher  the  fewer." 
In  more  positive  terms  it  might  be  put :  "The  lower  the  more." 
At  any  rate,  this  paper,  listed  in  the  newspaper  annuals  as 
"literary,"  has,  according  to  their  figures,  since  1900  enjoyed  a 
regular  circulation  of  nearly  300,000  a  week.  For  "Boyce's 
Weeklies" — ^the  Chicago  Ledger  and  the  Saturday  Blade,  a 
weekly  imitation  of  a  metropolitan  daily — an  average  circulation 
of  631,869  copies  is  claimed;  and  for  the  Woman's  World,  a 
monthly  which  has  grown  out  of  the  success  of  the  Ledger, 
829,982  copies.  Although  but  few  ©f  the  residents  of  Chicago 
have  ever  heard  of  these  periodicals,  these  figures  show  the 
banner  circulation  of  "literary"  periodical  publishing  in  Chicago. 
It  was  not  until  in  1891  that  Mr.  Boyce  acquired  the  Chicago 
Ledger.  Since  then  its  growth  has  been  remarkable.  It  is  the 
basis  of  success  with  a  paper  mill  and  a  city  office  building, 
which  fact,  like  many  of  the  points  already  made  in  this  series 
of  papers,  again  shows  the  engraftment  of  interests. 

In  "the  trade"  such  periodicals  as  the  Chicago  Ledger  have 
come  to  be  more  commonly  called  "mail-order"  papers  than 
"family-story"  papers.  It  is  thus  recognized  that  they  are  run 
primarily  for  revenue.  With  the  development  of  houses  selling 
all  kinds  of  goods  direct  to  people  in  country  homes,  on  orders 
by  mail,  the  Chicago  Ledger  and  the  "mail-  order"  papers  have 
been  used  for  advertising  by  such  firms.  These  mail-order 
houses,  of  which  the  original,  that  of  Montgomery  Ward  &  Co., 
started  during  the  same  year  as  the  Chicago  Ledger,  in  1872, 
were  among  the  new  ventures  in  the  period  of  enterprise  after 
the  fire.     Their  proprietors  wanted  to  reach  the  country  popu- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  503 

lation.  The  Chicago  Ledger  managers  often  point  out  that  69 
per  cent,  of  the  people  of  the  United  States  live  outside  of 
the  cities,  and  that  the  circulation  of  the  "mail-order"  papers  is 
in  the  country  towns,  villages,  and  rural  communities.  In  the 
seventies  the  percentage  of  the  population  classed  as  rural  was 
even  larger.  And  since  the  Chicago  Ledger  and  the  "family- 
story"  papers  have  never  been  much  read  in  the  cities,  they  were 
used  from  the  start  to  get  advertisements  to  the  country  people. 
The  general  advertising  agencies  were  becoming  an  important 
factor  in  certain  lines  of  business  by  the  late  seventies.  For  the 
large  campaigns  which  they  conducted,  the  first  mediums  they 
used,  after  the  local  newspapers  eyerywhere,  were  the  "family- 
story"  papers,  whose  publishers  were  thus  saved  from  great 
outlay  in  their  organization  for  securing  advertisements.  This 
aided  greatly  in  a  quick  realization  of  profits. 

However  sensational  the  call  for  a  reader's  attention,  and 
despite  the  country  reader's  interest  in  the  advertisements,  the 
Chicago  Ledger  still  appeals  to  the  aesthetic  interest  broadly 
defined — to  the  interest  in  story.  Incidentally  this  journal  has 
lived  for  thirty-three  years,  and  maintained  its  identity,  char- 
acter, and  name.  No  other  Chicago  periodical  having  some  sort 
of  a  dominant  literary  character  can  boast  as  much. 

Thirty  per  cent,  of  the  literary  periodicals  begun  in  Chicago 
during  the  period  after  the  fire  were  of  this  "family-story"  type, 
a  larger  percentage  than  the  figures  for  those  of  its  kind  started 
in  any  decadal  j)eriod  since  then.  Among  the  ventures  of  this 
class  in  Chicago  following  the  fire  were  the  following  papers : 
Our  Fireside  Friend,  iSy2-yc^;  the  Cottage  Monthly,  1873; 
Turner's  Minuret,  1873-75;  Western  Home,  1874-75;  the  Old 
Oaken  Bucket,  1876;  and  Sunset  Chimes,  1876-87.  One  of  the 
newspaper  annuals  contained  a  standing  line  which  described  the 
contents  of  these  and  similar  periodicals  as  "entertaining 
literature." 

The  relative  permanence  of  the  literary  periodicals  started  in 
Chicago  after  the  fire,  including  those  of  the  higher  as  well  as 
those  of  the  lower  literary  orders,  is  one  notable  feature  of  the 
period,  despite  the  fact,  pointed  out  by  E,  Steiger.  of  New  York, 


504  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

in  a  compilation  of  American  periodicals  for  the  "ephemeral 
intellectual  department"  of  the  Vienna  exposition  in  1873,  that 
in  general  "literary  enterprises  are  ephemeral" — a  generalization 
also  brought  out  by  the  census  of  1870.  Statistics  compiled  in 
the  course  of  study  for  these  papers  show  that  eight  of  the 
forty-seven  periodicals  of  a  literary  character  started  in  Chicago 
after  the  fire  and  before  1880  lived  for  more  than  fifteen  years, 
and  that  four  started  in  that  period  are  extant.  This  is  all  thq 
more  remarakable  when  it  is  pointed  out  that,  as  the  result  of 
the  financial  panic  of  1873,  a  dozen  periodicals  died.  But  in 
1876,  in  Rowell's  list  prepared  for  the  national  Centennial  Expo- 
sition, there  were  titles  of  twenty  literary  Chicago  periodicals. 
Following  the  panic  there  was  a  new  spurt  of  energy  injected 
into  the  business  activity  which  followed  the  fire. 

In  the  establishment  of  the  profitable,  low-grade  story 
periodicals  the  indirect  influence  of  world-wide  assistance  to  the 
burned-out  city  has  been  traced.  Its  more  direct  effects,  through 
enlarging  the  point  of  view  of  Chicago  editors,  may  be  found  in 
the  journals  and  periodicals  of  a  higher  literary  order  during 
the  fire  decade. 

The  most  notable  direct  aid  from  the  Old  World  to  the  literary 
interests  of  Chicago  came  in  a  gift  from  England,  a  contribution 
which  was  the  beginning  of  the  Chicago  Public  Library. 
In  the  fire  the  semi-public  libraries  were  destroyed,  and  the 
people  lost  the  books  of  their  homes.  Moved  by  the  thought  of 
such  a  loss,  Thomas  Hughes,  the  author  of  Tom  Brown  at 
Oxford,  led  his  countrymen  in  collecting  a  large  library  of  fiction 
and  general  works.  This  was  sent  to  Chicago  and  accepted 
gladly,  the  whole  community  being  deeply  impressed  by  an  act 
of  such  refined  sympathy. 

Dr.  W.  F.  Poole,  a  pioneer  in  the  public-library  movement, 
was  called  as  librarian.  And  in  October,  1874,  with  the  bookwise 
doctor  as  editor,  W.  B.  Kern,  Cooke  &  Co.,  booksellers  and  pub- 
lishers, brought  out  a  three-column  folio  entitled  the  Owl,  and 
subtitled  "A  Literary  Monthly."  In  No.  i,  to  be  found  in  a  file 
at  the  Newberry  Library,  there  appeared  a  dialogue,  in  which 
the  Public  said  to  the  Owl:    "Qui  vive?"    The  Owl  gave  the 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  505 

countersign  "A  pure  literature."  And  the  Public  said:  "All 
right,  and  all  hail,"  As  "an  organ  of  all  that  is  good  and 
true,  and  an  enemy  of  all  that  is  bad  and  false  in  this  age  and 
country,"  the  Owl  was  devoted  chiefly  to  new  books.  The 
essays  by  Dr.  Poole  were  a  feature  in  which  he  carried  out  his 
policy  of  impressing  on  the  community  high  standards,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  belief  in  popular  fiction  reading,  an  influence 
from  him  which  was  recently  acknowledged  by  the  Dial. 

There  were  many  manifestations  of  the  striving  toward 
metropolitan  breadth  of  view-point  in  Chicago  literary  periodical 
ventures  during  the  later  seventies.  This  was  so,  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  in  population  Chicago  was  not  yet  the 
metropolis  of  the  Mississippi  valley.  St  Louis,  with  310,864 
inhabitants,  outranked  Chicago,  the  fifth  in  the  list  of  cities,  with 
298,977  at  the  census  of  1870.  The  Inland  Monthly  Magazine, 
1872-77,  advertised  as  "the  only  magazine  of  the  West  and 
South  devoted  to  literature,  science,  art,  humor,  sketches,  etc.," 
had  its  main  office  at  St  Louis,  and  merely  a  branch  in  Chicago. 

By  1873  Chicago  had  reached  such  a  stage  of  metropolitan 
sophistication  as  to  have  its  first  periodical  devoted  exclusively 
to  humor.  "Carl  Pretzel"  was  the  nom  de  plume  of  C.  H. 
Harris,  the  editor.  He  began  with  Carl  Pretzel's  Magazine 
P 0 ok,  in  which  the  sketches,  like  all  his  works,  were  written  in 
the  style  of  Leiand's  Hans  Breitmann.  This  Pook  was  a  weekly 
folio,  filled  with  good  fun  on  local  topics,  phrased  in  a  pseudo- 
German-English  lingo.  In  this  form  of  expression  is  to  be  seen 
one  influence  of  Chicago's  large  and  important  German  popula- 
tion. Many  anglicized  German  expressions  and  many  ger- 
manized  English  phrases  have  made  fun  in  the  ordinary 
conversation  of  Chicago  people.  Hence  "Carl  Pretzel's"  form 
of  humorous  expression  met  with  a  specially  ready  welcome. 
In  attitude  his  humor  was  of  the  comic  variety,  which,  as  is  seen 
in  the  current  work  of  Ade,  McCutcheon,  and  Dunne,  is  the 
characteristic  Chicago  humor — the  comic  as  against  the  cynic  of 
more  sophisticated  New  York.  Mr.  Francis  F.  Browne,  Mr. 
John  McGovem,  and  Mr.  John  R.  Walsh,  from  their  varying 
points   of   view,  agree   in    recollections   that    "Carl    Pretzel's" 


506  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

"stuff"  was  decent,  clever  humor,  not  in  the  least  coarse.  The 
only  file  of  his  periodicals  available,  a  sample  of  Der  Leedle 
Vanderer,  1876,  in  the  "Number  i  Book"  at  the  Historical 
Society  Library,  gives  the  same  impression. 

From  his  beginning  with  the  use  of  local  material,  Mr.  Harris 
branched  out,  and  in  1874  established  Carl  Pretzel's  National 
Weekly,  which  later  had  the  word  "illustrated"  in  its  title  to 
advertise  its  cartoons,  and  was  published  regularly  until  1893. 
After  a  time  "Carl  Pretzel"  was  more  or  less  written  out,  and 
his  paper  gave  considerable  attention  to  politics,  Robert  G. 
Ingersoll  and  John  A.  Logan  being  among  the  contributors.  It 
also  became  an  organ  of  some  secret  society  interests.  It  never 
reached  a  circulation  of  more  than  5,500,  which  shows  that  its 
constituency  was  more  local  than  national.  In  1886  an  advertise- 
ment showed  that  it  kept  something  of  its  original  character. 
This  announcement  read  as  follows : 

Subscription  price,  $2  for  one  year,  or  $150  for  100  years.  By  subscribing 
for  100  years,  subscribers  can  save  $50.  Anyone  can  see  that  here  is  an 
excellent  opportunity  to  save  money.  Twelfth  year  and  the  largest  circula- 
tion of  any  weekly  newspaper  in  Chicago. 

Changes  made  in  the  name  of  a  journal  devoted  to  stories 
and  news  of  sportsmanship,  which  was  begun  in  1874  and  is 
continued  today,  are  significant  of  movements  toward  a  wider 
outlook.  The  founder.  Dr.  N.  Rowe,  who  always  signed  himself 
"Mohawk,"  first  called  this  periodical  Field  and  Stream.  The 
next  year  he  changed  the  name  to  the  Chicago  Field.  Then  in 
1879  it  became  the  American  Field;  and  from  1883  on  it  has 
been  dated  from  New  York  as  well  as  Chicago,  although  the 
main  office  has  been  in  the  Masonic  Temple  at  Chicago.  Since 
the  death  of  its  founder  several  years  ago,  the  periodical  has 
been  carried  on  with  Mrs.  N.  Rowe  as  editor. 

Another  sign  of  the  stir  toward  metropolitanism  was  seen  in 
a  literary  periodical  based  on  the  social  stratification  then 
developing.  There  was  a  joining  of  interest  in  literature,  art. 
and  music  with  the  news  of  the  local  society  sets,  in  this  journal, 
the  Saturday  Evening  Herald,  founded  in  1874  by  Lyman  B. 
Glover,  who  later  became  a  newspaper  dramatic  critic,  having 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  507 

a  wide  following.  This  paper  is  still  published,  although  devoted 
almost  exclusively  to  society.  In  its  first  years. .  however,  with 
John  M.  Dandy  and  G.  M.  McConnell  doing  editorial  work  in 
addition  to  that  of  Mr,  Glover,  the  paper  was  distinguished  for 
essays  and  other  literary  efforts  of  excellent  quality.  Among 
the  quasi-literary  journals  of  Chicago  it  was,  in  its  day,  one  of 
the  most  influential. 

More  important,  however,  as  an  index  of  an  expanding  point 
of  view,  was  the  advent  of  a  periodical  founded  in  1873,  by  a 
group  of  liberal,  literary  preachers — Professor  David  Swing, 
Rev.  Robert  Collyer,  Dr.  Hiram  A.  Thomas,  and  others.  To 
symbolize  their  getting  together,  they  named  the  periodical 
the  Alliance.  It  contained  a  faint  religious  dye.  But  it  was 
first  of  all  colored  with  an  effort  at  literary  expression,  chiefly 
in  the  essay  form.  The  denominational  religious  press  in 
Chicago,  although  it  has  been  most  successful  and  has  been 
marked  by  the  incidental  use  of  material  appealing  to  the 
literary  interest,  is  not  a  subject  for  treatment  here.  In  a  more 
general  account  of  the  aesthetic  interests  of  Chicago  such 
religious-literary  periodicals  should  be  given  attention,  because 
the  purely  religious  desires  and  the  most  purely  aesthetic  desires 
are  closely  allied.  But  the  main  features  of  the  denominational 
papers  are  the  items  of  church  news.  The  Alliance,  however, 
was  primarily  literary — so  distinctly  literary  that,  at  one  time, 
Mr.  Francis  F.  Browne,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  decade,  con- 
sented to  be  its  managing  editor.  At  the  inception  of  the 
Alliance  the  literary  clergymen  attempted  to  settle  tlieir  editorial 
problems  in  meetings  as  a  board  of  editors.  This  proved  fatal 
to  any  progress.  Soon  Professor  Swing  became  the  editor-in- 
chief  and  chief  contributor.  His  weekly  essay  was  one  of  the 
literary  treats  of  the  period,  and  was  later  continued  when  the 
Alliance  was  merged  with  the  Weekly  Magazine  in  1882. 
According  to  the  testimony  of  those  concerned,  the  Alliance  lost 
its  identity  from  deliberate  wrecking  by  its  business  manager, 
who  is  alleged  to  have  taken  advantage  of  the  allied  ministers' 
lack  of  business  experience. 

A  western  magazine  from  the  newer  West  moved  east  to 


508  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Chicago  in  1879,  drawn  by  the  centripetal  force  the  city  was 
exerting  as  the  growing  metropolis  of  the  West.  This  was  the 
Western  Magazine — the  third  in  Chicago  to  bear  that  name. 
It  had  been  estabHshed  in  Omaha  three  years  before.  The 
f>eriodical  was  of  regular  magazine  form,  with  two  columns  of 
neatly  printed  matter  on  each  page,  and  many  excellent  wood- 
cuts illustrating  mountain  scenery  and  the  towns  from  "British 
Columbia  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico."  It  was  divided  into  two 
departments,  whose  character  was  told  by  the  following  headings : 
"The  Original  Department  of  'The  Western  Magazine/  con- 
taining Select  Articles  from  Our  Best  Western  Writers;"  and, 
"The  Exlectic  Department  of  'The  Western  Magazine,'  contain- 
ing the  Cream  of  European  Literature."  Although  containing 
original  stories,  the  leading  feature  of  the  "original  department" 
was  illustrated  articles  and  historical  sketches  on  the  towns  of 
the  western  states,  in  the  form  of  travel  letters  from  John  H. 
Pierce,  the  publisher.  One  of  these  referred  to  Kansas  City  as 
"the  new  Chicago  of  the  West."  These  articles  were  accom- 
panied by  local  advertisements  from  the  places  written  up,  and 
thus  brought  the  publisher  his  principal  receipts,  which  were 
augmented  by  subscriptions  secured  in  these  towns,  at  $1  a  year. 
Like  Chicago's  pioneer  literary  journals,  the  Western  Magazine, 
while  at  Omaha,  said,  May,  1879: 

Give  a  prompt  and  willing  support  to  the  only  periodical  that  illustrates 
our  western  country;  and  in  the  not  far  distant  future  we  will  furnish  a 
magazine  equal  in  size  and  variety  of  attractions  to  the  standard  monthlies 
of  the  eastern  states. 

When  the  Western  Magazine  came  to  Chicago,  Mrs.  Helen 
Elkin  Starrett  was  engaged  to  be  its  editor.  Mrs.  Starrett, 
having  in  her  youth  contributed  to  Holland's  Springfield 
Republican,  in  Massachusetts;  having  written  a  volume  of 
poetry;  having  later  edited  a  newspaper  at  Lawrence,  Kans. ; 
having  written  editorials  and  literary  criticisms  for  Joseph 
Pulitzer's  St.  Louis  Post-Dispatch;  and  having  been  before  the 
public  as  a  lecturer  on  literary  and  social  topics,  particularly  in 
the  western  states,  was  regarded  as  especially  well  qualified  for 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  509 

the  position.  Mrs.  Starrett,  who  today  conducts  a  school  for 
girls  in  Chicago,  teaches  literature,  and  writes  poetry  for  an 
accredited  New  York  publisher,  gave  many  interesting  sug- 
gestions on  the  period  treated  in  this  paper. 

The  files  of  the  Western  Monthly  show  an  immediate 
improvement  in  its  literary  quality  after  its  transferrence  to 
Chicago.  The  Burlington  (Iowa)  Hawk  eye,  in  the  reviewers' 
comments,  reprinted  by  the  Western  Magazine,  said :  "Mrs. 
Starrett  is  eminently  qualified  and  will  be  to  the  western  literary 
interests  what  Mary  Mapes  Dodge  and  other  eminent  lady 
editorial  workers  are  to  eastern  literature."  The  same  paper 
quoted  the  Chicago  Tribune  as  declaring  that  the  Western  Maga- 
zine would  be  "the  foundation  of  great  things  in  the  literary 
history  of  Chicago." 

"A  Welcome  Suggestion,"  from  a  "Well-Wisher  and  Reader," 
which  is  most  significant  of  the  Chicago  desire  for  a  literary 
organ  of  metropolitan  character,  was  published  in  the  September, 
1880,  issue  of  the  Western  Magazine.  It  turned  out  that  this 
anonymous  suggestion  had  come  from  Frederic  Ives  Carpenter, 
now  a  professor  of  English  literature  at  the  University  of 
Chicago,  at  that  time  a  Chicago  high-school  boy.  The  contribu- 
tion said,  in  part : 

Since  the  days  of  the  Lakeside  Monthly  and  the  Chicago  Magazine,  it 
has  seemed  to  many  of  the  literary  and  semi-literary  people  of  this  city  as 
though  the  day  must  be  a  long  way  oflf  when  Chicago  might  hope  to  have 
any  exclusively  literary  organ  of  its  intellectual  interests. 

Now,  your  magazine  is  the  rising  sun  of  our  hopes.  Will  it  be  long 
before  the  Western  Magazine  is  recognized  as  a  worthy  representative  of 
our  literary  interests,  before  you  allow  it  to  become  metropolitan? 

Rushing,  trade-maddened  Chicago  is  well  supplied  with  periodicals  that 
uphold  its  myriad  trade  and  labor  and  religious  fields  of  activity.  Yet  not 
a  sheet  for  its  literature.  Why  should  New  York  have  its  Scribner's  and 
Harper's,  Boston  its  Atlantic,  Philadelphia  its  Lippincott's  and  we  only  our 
dailies  and  the  denominational  religious  weeklies? 

The  Western  Magazine  can  make  a  career.  Broaden  your  interests; 
admit  fiction  (the  modern  home  of  geniuses)  and  literary  criticism;  or  at 
least,  if  we  are  not  ready  for  that — literary  gossip.  Do  this  for  the  sake  of 
the  cosmopolitan  culture  that  any  metropolis  like  this  possesses,  and  which 
calls  for  this. 


510  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  publication  of  this  significant  communication  was  made 
the  occasion  for  opening  a  new  department  in  the  magazine, 
called  "The  Club."  Mrs.  Starrett  declared  editorially  that 
there  was  "no  more  significant  sig^  of  social  progress  than  the 
spread  of  literary  and  social  organizations  known  as  clubs, 
whether  woman's  clubs,  art  clubs,  social  science  clubs,  or  study 
clubs."  The  Chicago  Philosophical  Society,  really  a  literary 
society  in  which  Mr.  Franklin  Head,  Mr.  Lyman  J.  Gage,  and 
other  prominent  business  and  professional  men  interested  in 
reading,  met  for  discussions,  was  the  most  important  club  in 
Chicago  at  the  time.  The  Saracen  Club,  the  Fortnightly,  the, 
Chicago  Woman's  Club,  and  the  Athena,  of  which  Mr. 
Carpenter's  mother  was  president,  were  notable,  the  woman's- 
club  movement  having  become  well  started,  Mrs.  Starrett  says 
that  Chicago  people  interested  in  letters  were  much  more  closely 
associated  in  those  days  than  has  since  been  possible  in  the 
enlarged  city. 

A  sub-title  was  added  to  the  name  of  the  Western  Magazifie 
announcing  it  to  be  "A  Literary  Monthly."  The  editor  was 
flooded  with  manuscripts  from  local  writers  and  from  writers  in 
other  cities,  for  both  "The  Club"  department  and  the  general 
literary  pages.  Much  of  the  material  was  amateurish.  But  some 
of  it  was  done  in  promising  style  by  authors,  who,  through  their 
start  in  this  medium,  later  attained  some  prominence,  among 
them  being  Lillian  Whiting.  After  one  of  the  later  issues, 
Professor  Swing  sent  a  note  to  Mrs.  Starrett  in  which  he  said : 

There  is  no  better-edited  magazine,  nor  one  containing  finer  writing, 
east  or  west  or  anywhere,  than  our  little  magazinej  which  has  just  come  to 
my  desk. 

But  at  that  time  the  interests  of  Mrs.  Starrett,  who  had 
previously  found  75,000  readers  for  an  article  on  "The  House- 
keeping of  the  Future,"  in  the  Forum,  turned  more  keenly  to 
social  and  economic  questions  than  to  form  in  literature.  The 
contributions  to  "The  Club"  department  soon  were  almost 
exclusively  along  these  lines — the  reproductions  of  essays  read 
at  club  meetings  by  studious  women.  For  this  reason,  among 
others  reflecting  the  general  situation,  it  is  not  surprising  that 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  5  1 1 

on  merging  the  Alliance  in  March  1882,  the  Western  Magazine 
became  the  Weekly  Magazine,  and  announced  that  thereafter  it 
would 

present  to  its  readers  each  week  the  same  choice  collection  of  literary  matter, 
with  an  added  department  of  great  interest  devoted  to  discussions,  by  able 
and  well-known  writers,  on  the  important  political,  social,  and  economic 
topics. 

While  the  weekly  sermon-essay  by  Professor  Swing,  written 
after  the  manner  of  Addison  in  The  Roger  de  Coverly  Papers, 
was  the  leading  literary  feature,  and  there  were  some  stories  and 
poems,  the  main  source  of  interest  in  the  contents  of  the  Weekly 
Magazine  came  more  and  more  to  be  inquiry  about  social  ques- 
tions. A  regular  letter  from  Washington  was  sent  by  Gail 
Hamilton.  James  G.  Blaine  contributed  an  article  on  "The 
South  American  Policy  of  the  Garfield  Administration."  Mr. 
William  A.  Starrett,  Mrs.  Starrett's  husband,  at  first  associate 
editor,  wrote  such  acceptable  reviews  of  political  events  that  in 
the  later  numbers  his  name  was  put  above  Mrs.  Starrett's  in  the 
lines  naming  the  editors. 

The  circulation  of  the  Weekly  Magazine  reached  23,450  in 
1883,  not  equaling,  however,  the  50,000  credited  to  the  Western 
Magazine  in  1880.  It  was  backed  to  an  extent  by  prominent 
Chicago  business  men.  George  M.  Pullman  and  C.  B.  Farwell 
contributed  $1,000  each  for  stock,  and  Marshall  Field  $500. 
The  editors  had  no  part  in  the  business  management.  The 
business  manager,  who  had  previously  been  in  charge  of  the 
Alliance,  got  the  affairs  of  the  Weekly  Magazine  into  such  a 
hopeless  tangle  that  it  became  bankrupt,  and  ended  its  career  in 
1884. 

The  history  of  the  Western  Magazine  and  the  Weekly  MagOr- 
zinc  gives  another  example  of  the  diverting  of  the  aesthetic 
literary  interest  to  the  knowledge  interest.  But  the  story  of  its 
attraction  to  Chicago  from  the  farther  West,  and  of  its  develop- 
ment thereafter,  shows  the  movement  toward  metropolitanism 
in  Chicago,  and  carries  us  over  into  a  period  of  greater  develop- 
ment toward  that  characteristic  in  the  eighties. 


512  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

IV.    JOURNALS  FOR  LETTERS  IN  THE  MARKET  METROPOLIS, 

1880-90 

"It  is  universally  conceded  that  Chicago  is  rapidly  achieving  world-wide 
reputation  as  the  great  literary  center  of  the  United  States." — From  Culture's 
Garland,  Being  Memoranda  of  the  Gradual  Rise  of  Literature,  Art,  Music  and 
Society  in  Chicago,  and  Other  Western  Ganglia,  by  Eugene  Field  (Ticknor  & 
Co.,  Boston,  1887). 

Chicago  arrived  at  the  rank  of  a  metropolis  during  the  decade 
of  1880.  A  position  of  metropolitan  character  was  reached,  as 
far  as  the  groundwork  of  materialistic  supremacy  in  a  large  terri- 
tory is  concerned.  In  tracing  the  origin  and  character  of  the 
literary  periodicals  outcropping  in  these  years,  and  the  interplay 
of  literary  and  other  interests,  the  first  requirement  is  a  picture  of 
Chicago  as  a  material  metropolis. 

It  has  often  been  said  by  the  citizens  of  older  centers  that  a 
nation  can  have  only  one  metropolis,  only  one  "mother-city." 
Unquestionably,  New  York  city  has  been  the  metropolis  of 
America  for  many  decades.  But  the  essential  idea  of  metropolis 
is  that  of  the  relation  of  the  city  center  to  an  expanse  of  its  sur- 
rounding country.  The  United  States  covers  so  large  a  sweep  of 
country  that  several  European  cities  of  metropolitan  rank,  along 
with  their  supporting  empires,  could  be  set  down  in  it.  In  posi- 
tion Chicago  is  the  center  of  the  most  fertile  and  extensive  expanse 
of  valley  and  prairie  in  the  North  Temperate  Zone  —  a  territory 
which  by  1880  had  become  populous.  And  in  every  way  before 
the  close  of  the  eighties  Chicago  had  become  the  chief  city  of  the 
West,  and  also  the  first  of  the  nation,  and  indeed  of  the  world  in 
not  a  few  phases  of  business  and  commercial  command. 

The  foremost  of  the  chief  positions  of  which  Chicago  men 
could  and  did  boast  was  the  rank  attained  as  the  greatest  railroad 
center.  Ever  since  the  prairie  days  Chicago  had  been  growing 
rapidly  as  a  railroad  center.  This  growth  had  come  out  of  the 
food-supply  industry,  and  had  been  reared  on  the  bringing  of 
wheat  and  cereals  to  Chicago  for  shipment  over  the  lakes,  and  of 
live  stock  to  the  Union  Stock  Yards,  the  greatest  wholesale  meat- 
market  in  the  world.  Established  in  1865,  after  commissary 
work  for  the  Civil  War  had  demonstrated  the  importance  of 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  513 

Chicago  as  a  point  for  supplies,  this  market  had  g^own  to 
immense  proportions  by  1880.  On  the  bread-  and  meat-supply 
business  had  been  built  the  so-called  "Granger  Railroads,"  and 
their  development  was  followed  by  the  locating  in  Chicago  of 
manufacturing  plants  for  the  making  of  all  sorts  of  goods.  All 
this  called  for  more  railroads. 

Seven  new  main  lines  were  built  into  the  city  during  the 
eighties.  This  made  the  total  number  of  trunk  lines  with  ter- 
minals in  Chicago  an  even  twenty,  which,  according  to  Blanchard, 
was  the  full  quota  of  "railroads  entering  Chicago  on  their  own 
tracks  August  i,  1900."  Chicago  became  not  only  a  receiving 
point  for  raw  materials,  but  the  growth  of  the  railway  systems 
made  the  city  the  center  of  a  most  striking  example  of  that  which 
was  defined  by  Herbert  Spencer  in  his  elaborate  analogy  between 
the  structure  of  society  and  that  of  an  animal  organism,  as  the 
"social  distributing  system." 

As  it  took  a  multitude  of  people  to  handle  all  this  market, 
manufacturing,  and  railway  business,  the  number  increased  so 
rapidly  that  by  1880  Chicago  had,  in  population,  become  the 
metropolis  of  the  West.  The  census  of  1880  showed  that  in  num- 
bers of  people  Chicago  had  far  surpassed  St.  Lx)uis,  which  had 
before  led  in  the  states  west  of  the  Alleghanies.  In  that  year 
Chicago's  population  was  more  than  half  a  million  by  several 
thousand.  This  meant  a  large  distribution  of  any  marketable 
commodity  for  consumers  within  the  city  itself.  But  the  popu- 
lation of  the  Middle  West,  Northwest,  and  Southwest,  increasing 
proportionately,  made  a  larger  market.  Chicago  became  the  chief 
inland  distributing  center,  not  only  for  life-sustaining  products  — 
food,  clothing,  druggists'  supplies,  and  lumber  for  housing — but 
also  for  material  luxuries,  and  finally  for  those  classes  of  goods 
designed  to  satisfy  the  aesthetic  interest. 

Among  the  many  jobbing-houses  which  had  grown  to  large 
proportions  by  1880,  one  of  the  most  notable  was  that  of  a  firm 
whose  largest  business  was  in  book- jobbing.  This  was  the 
McClurg  house,  known  since  1886  by  the  firm  name  of  A.  C. 
McClurg  &  Co.,  which  today,  in  a  nine-story  building,  does, 
besides  a  large  retail  book-selling  business  and  a  good  amount  of 


514  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

original  publishing,  the  most  extensive  book-distributing  business 
for  all  publishers  by  any  single  house  in  the  United  States.  In 
1880  this  house  was  the  most  conspicuous  among  three  large 
book-stores  in  adjoining  buildings  on  State  Street,  known  to 
residents  of  the  city,  to  visitors  from  the  Middle  West,  and  to 
tourists  as  "Book-Sellers'  Row." 

The  immense  book-distributing  business  of  the  McClurg  firm 
was  built  up  in  conjunction  with,  and  as  an  engraftment  upon, 
another  line  of  jobbing.  The  retail  book-sellers  of  the  small 
towns  throughout  the  West  are  the  druggists,  who,  in  addition 
to  proprietary  medicines  and  drugs,  sell  a  varied  line  of  sundries. 
Such  a  retailer  would  often  ask  the  McClurg  company  to  deliver 
an  order  of  books  to  some  Chicago  house  jobbing  these  sundries, 
so  that  shipment  could  be  made  in  one  box.  Therefore  the  firm 
decided  to  supply  these  articles  direct.  And  today,  in  addition  to 
a  Monthly  Bulletin  of  New  Books,  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.  send  out 
a  large  annual  volume,  the  cover  of  which  says:  Catalogue  of 
Blank  Books  and  Tablets,  Stationery,  Typewriter  Paper  and  Sup- 
plies, Hair  and  Tooth  Brushes,  Druggists'  Sundries,  Pocket- 
Books,  Pipes,  Pocket  Cutlery,  etc."  More  than  one  floor  of  their 
large  building  is  filled  with  such  prosaic  supplies. 

Directly  out  of  this  book-distributing  agency,  so  built  up, 
ramifying  to  drug-stores  and  book-stores  in  all  towns  of  the  West, 
and  centered  in  the  McClurg  house,  there  originated  a  journal  of 
literary  criticism  —  the  Dial.  In  1880  the  McClurg  firm  started 
this  periodical  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Francis  Fisher  Browne, 
who  from  its  first  number  until  the  last  of  the  current  volume  in 
1905  has  been  in  charge  of  its  editorial  management.  At  the 
time,  Mr.  Browne,  whose  work  in  editing  and  publishing  the 
Lakeside  Monthly  had  been  so  notable,  was  connected  with  the 
book-house  as  literary  adviser  in  its  publishing  department,  which 
General  A.  C.  McClurg  was  then  personally  making  special 
efforts  to  develop. 

Devoted  exclusively  to  literary  criticism  and  information  con- 
concerning  new  books,  the  Dial  did  not  and  does  not  make  the 
appeal  of  literary  form  direct  to  the  aesthetic  interest,  although 
the  style  of  its  contents  is  excellent.    Its  appeal  is  to  the  interest 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  515 

in  knowledge  about  the  form  and  contents  of  literary  works. 
The  Dial  was  raised  up  for  keeping  time  on  the  knowledge  of 
current  productions  of  literature. 

Nevertheless,  the  Dial  is  significant  of  Chicago  and  western 
literary  interests  as  they  devloped  in  the  decade  of  its  founding, 
and  as  they  have  grown  to  be  since  then.  With  Chicago  having 
attained  a  metropolitan  prominence  in  materialistic  things,  one 
characteristic  of  the  majority  of  Chicagoans  in  the  eighties 
became  self-confident  boasting  about  their  city.  It  was  the  crass 
clamor  of  a  puissant  metropolitanism  of  the  market-place.  When 
this  note  became  most  strong,  many  citizens,  with  material 
achievements  accomplished,  began  to  have  some  doubts  as  to 
whether  business  success  is  all  of  greatness  possible.  The  appear- 
ance of  the  Dial  marked  the  fact  that  the  central  inland  market 
for  grosser  products  had  become  a  great  central  market  for  liter- 
ary goods.  In  a  section  where  literary  appreciation  was  much 
more  predominant  than  the  creative  literary  interest — writing 
and  publishing — it  is  perhaps  remarkable  that  such  a  journal  as 
the  Dial  did  not  come  earlier.  The  West  was  buying  books.  The 
West  began  to  criticise  books.  And  incidentally  other  journals 
of  literary  criticism,  among  them  being  a  short-lived  magazine 
called  the  American  Critic,  were  started  at  this  time.  Of  course, 
from  the  earliest  days  of  periodical-publishing  in  Chicago  there 
had  been  some  literary  criticism.  But  the  attitude  of  appraising 
quality  had  not  been  a  characteristic  of  Chicago  until  the  decade 
of  the  eighties,  when  this  element  found  a  place  in  the  public  mind 
of  a  community  which  had  reached  a  material  metropolitanism, 
and  was  growing  toward  a  broader  and  higher  metropolitan 
spirit. 

The  history  of  the  Dial  during  the  eighties  and  later  tells  of 
the  advance  toward,  not  only  breadth,  but  also  independence  in 
the  judgment  of  letters.  During  the  entire  decade  of  the  eighties, 
and  for  two  years  in  the  nineties,  the  business  success  of  the  Diai 
was  made  easy  because  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.  were  heavy  whole- 
sale purchasers  from  all  of  the  large  publishing-houses  of  the 
East.  Naturally  the  publishers  were  quick  to  place  advertise- 
ments in  the  Dial.     Furthermore,  the  Dial,  published  by  Mc- 


5l6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Clurg's  had  to  criticise  books  from  the  publishing  department  of 
McClurg's.  The  effect  of  these  relationships  was  to  arouse  dis- 
belief in  the  independence  of  the  journal;  and  in  July,  1892,  the 
interest  of  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.  in  the  Dial  was  sold  to  Mr. 
Browne.  At  the  time  the  Dial  was  disconnected  from  their 
house,  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.  made  the  following  statement 
through  its  columns : 

The  change  looks  wholly  to  the  good  of  the  paper,  which,  it  is  believed, 
will  be  better  served  by  its  publication  as  a  separate  and  independent  enter- 
prise. It  is  perhaps  natural  that  a  critical  literary  journal  like  the  Dial  should 
be  to  some  extent  misunderstood  through  its  connection  with  a  publishing  and 
book-selling  house.  To  relieve  the  paper  from  this  disadvantage,  and  to  make 
its  literary  independence  hereafter  as  obvious  as  it  ever  has  been  real,  is  the 
prime  object  of  the  present  change. 

From  the  first,  Mr.  Browne,  though  a  prophet  of  Western 
literature,  had  maintained,  besides  a  broad  critical  outlook,  the 
high  ideals  of  editorial  independence  for  which  he  had  been 
respected  while  editing  the  Lakeside  Monthly.  With  Mr.  Browne 
small.  The  character  of  the  editor,  and  the  fact  that  experts  on 
1906,  it  stands  as  the  only  authoritative  American  journal  devoted 
exclusively  to  literary  criticism  that  is  not  connected  with  a  book- 
publishing  house.  While  in  the  eighties  its  circulation  was  in 
largest  part  western,  today  it  is  national,  although  not  large  as 
compared  with  the  popular  magazines,  because  the  constituency 
of  publishers,  reviewers,  librarians,  teachers,  ministers,  and  gen- 
eral readers  deeply  interested  in  literary  criticism  is  relatively 
small.  The  character  of  the  editor,  and  the  fact  that  experts  in 
special  topics  are  paid  for  reviews  expressing  their  opinions 
freely,  have  made  the  independence  of  the  journal  have  meaning. 
It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  Dial,  although  published  in  the  inland 
metropolis,  is  the  leading  journal  of  literary  criticism  in  the 
nation. 

After  all  is  said  about  the  Dial  as  a  symbol  of  the  growing 
metropolitan  independence  of  criticism  in  Chicago,  that  which 
stands  out  as  most  striking  concerning  the  developments  of  the 
eighties  is  its  origin  in  a  book-distributing  agency  erected,  like 
other  freight-distributing  houses,  along  with  the  railway  systems 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  517 

which  made  the  dot  on  the  map  marked  "Chicago"  a  metro- 
politan center. 

The  distributing  of  people  as  well  as  packages  by  the  railway 
systems  centering  here  brought  the  Arkansaw  Traveler  and  Opie 
l^ead,  who  had  founded  this  periodical  at  Little  Rock  in  1882,  to 
Chicago  in  1887.  It  might  appear  that  the  name  Arkansaw 
Traveler  was  given  in  a  punning  mood,  because  its  contents  were 
prepared  for  the  amusement  of  railway  travelers.  But  it  was 
taken  from  a  tune  made  familiar  in  Arkansas  by  a  local  character, 
one  "Sandy"  Faulkner,  who  as  a  candidate  for  the  legislature 
had  gone  about  the  state  playing  a  "fiddle"  and  reciting  a 
monologue.  The  contents  of  the  paper  were  of  a  humorous  char- 
acter—  sketches  and  jokes,  drawn  chiefly  from  the  lives  of 
southern  dialect  characters,  with  whom  Mr.  Read  had  made  him- 
self familiar  when  local  editor  of  the  Little  Rock  Gazette.  While 
during  the  early  eighties  the  comic  papers  of  New  York  were, " 
according  to  Frederick  Hudson,  the  authority  on  American  jour- 
nalism, first  becoming  successful,  the  Arkansaw  Traveler,  still  at 
Little  Rock,  leaped  into  popularity,  first  in  the  Southwest  and 
then  through  the  North,  attaining  a  circulation  of  85,000  in  its 
second  year.  The  year  1887,  in  which  the  headquarters  of  the 
Arkansaw  Traveler  were  removed  to  Chicago,  was  one  in  which 
the  last  two  of  the  seven  lines  of  railroad  coming  into  Chicago 
in  the  eighties  were  opened.  Mr.  Read,  in  an  interview  given  to 
contribute  material  for  these  papers,  said : 

Chicago  had  become  the  great  railway  center.  Our  paper  was  sold  chiefly 
on  railway  trains.  We  moved  to  Chicago  so  as  to  be  in  position  for  reaching 
the  largest  number  of  railway  passengers  most  easily.  The  mailing  facilities 
of  Chicago,  as  the  central  point  in  a  spider's  web  of  railways,  also  led  us  here. 
In  those  days  schoolboys  were  not  used  extensively  for  the  sale  of  weekly 
papers.  Besides  making  sales  on  the  trains  through  the  news  companies,  we 
had  a  subscription  list.  For  years  Chicago  had  been  a  great  point  for  the  sale 
of  subscription  books.  For  our  weekly  of  general  circulation  the  business 
manager,  P.  D.  Benham,  my  brother-in-law,  found  that  it  was  not  possible  to 
get  advertising  in  the  same  proportion  to  the  number  of  subscribers  as  with  a 
local  newspaper.  The  advertising  patronage  came  from  the  general  agencies, 
and  in  those  days  magazine  advertising  was  not  done  so  generally  as  it  is 
today.    We  counted  on  sales  and  subscriptions. 

For  five  years  after  its  migration  to  the  western  railway 


5l8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

metropolis,  the  Arkansaw  Traveler  held  its  own.  In  fact,  it  is 
still  brought  out  regularly  from  a  bookkeeping  supply  house. 
But  it  has  lost  its  unique  characteristics,  and  has  an  insignificant 
circulation, 

Mr.  Read  resigned  from  the  editorship  in  1892,  and  has  not 
since  contributed  to  the  paper.  His  resignation  was  made  partly 
because  some  promoters  acquired  control  of  the  organization  of 
the  periodical,  converted  it  into  a  stock  company,  and  proposed  to 
put  Mr.  Read,  its  creator,  on  salary.  But  a  more  important  rea- 
son was  that  Mr.  Read  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  humor 
and  character  sketches  put  into  ephemeral  form  in  a  weekly 
periodical  were  more  or  less  wasted.  He  aspired  to  write  books, 
and  had  been  encouraged  by  Ticknor  &  Co.,  of  Boston,  who  had 
already  published  one  of  his  southern  dialect  productions,  entitled 
"Len  Gansett."  For  thirteen  years,  since  resigning  from  the 
periodical  whose  interests  brought  him  here,  Mr.  Read  has  been 
in  Chicago  writing  for  publications  chiefly  in  book  form.  He  has 
probably  been  the  most  prolific  user  of  the  fiction  form  working 
continuously  in  Chicago  since  the  eighties.  A  score  of  his  books 
of  fiction  are  to  be  found  in  the  Public  Library.  Most  of  tliem 
have  been  published,  by  Chicago  printing-houses,  between  paper 
covers.  The  news-company  boys  on  passenger  trains  east  and 
west  will  tell  you  that  Opie  Read  is  the  author  most  popular 
among  train  readers.  He  has  held  and  enlarged  the  audience 
before  which  he  secured  his  first  hearing  with  sketches  and  jokes 
in  the  Arkansaw  Traveler.  And  recently  eastern  magazine  and 
book  publishers  have  solicited  and  secured  his  output. 

From  the  day  of  his  arrival,  Mr.  Read  has  been  the  personi- 
fication of  the  fact  that  the  growing  mid- American  metropolis  has 
been  constantly  drawing  to  itself  men  with  unique  points  of  view 
—  writers  whose  outlook  is  first  of  all  that  of  some  other  locality. 
To  busy  Chicago  Mr.  Read  brought  the  point  of  view  of  quaint 
and  quiet  southern  life,  the  eye  and  ear  of  an  interpreter  of  the 
dialect  characters  in  the  region  from  which  he  came.  Always 
picturesque  in  character,  wearing  a  long  black  coat,  black  string 
tie,  long  locks,  and  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  Mr.  Read  has  visited 
the  Press  Club  almost  daily,  and,  meeting  the  younger  news- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  5*9 

paper  men,  as  well  as  those  of  "the  old  guard,"  in  avowed  and 
democratic  freedom  and  simplicity,  has  imparted  his  point  of  view 
to  others.  Men  from  other  places  in  America  having  distinct 
local  color  have  brought  other  variations  in  point  of  view.  The 
attraction  of  such  men  was  specially  notable  in  the  eighties. 
Since  then  more  men  trained  to  the  cosmopolitan  view  of  letters 
and  art  derived  in  Europe  have  come  to  the  Chicago  field.  But  in 
that  decade  these  various  local  view-points,  along  with  the  atti- 
tude of  men  versed  in  classic  English  literature,  such  as  Mr. 
Browne  of  the  Dial,  fused  with  the  virile  mercantilism  through 
which  those  in  the  roar  of  Chicago's  busy  streets  saw  life  into  a 
new  composite  metropolitan  outlook.  It  affected  the  writers  and 
publishers  of  Chicago  in  the  eighties. 

The  conspicuous  patronage  of  artistic  endeavor,  in  various 
mediums,  by  citizens  who  had  acquired  wealth  with  the  city's 
growth  into  rank  as  a  great  mart,  worthy  of  satire  as  it  was  in 
some  aspects,  was  another  factor  in  creating  a  metropolitan 
attitude.  The  Art  Institute  by  1882  had  a  brick  building,  and  in 
1887  erected  for  school  and  museum  the  excellent  four-story 
Romanesque  structure  of  brown  stone,  on  Michigan  Boulevard, 
at  the  southwest  corner  of  Van  Buren  Street,  now  occupied  by 
the  Chicago  Club.  There,  in  the  heart  of  the  market  city,  on  a 
boulevard  which  was  fast  becoming  the  fine-arts  avenue  of  Chi- 
cago, was  a  material  temple  fixing  in  the  public  mind  the  idea  of 
art.  Theodore  Thomas  and  his  orchestra,  besides  filling  winter 
engagements  in  Chicago,  had  been  giving  long  series  of  summer- 
night  concerts  in  the  Exposition  Building  which  stood  on  the 
Lake  Front  until  1887.  Grand  opera  was  annually  presented  by 
foreign  companies,  and  the  drama,  exceptionally  well  patronized 
for  years,  was  presented  by  the  best  of  visiting  American  and 
English  actors.  All  this  told  on  the  attitude  of  the  literary 
workers  and  publishers  of  periodicals. 

But  the  most  interesting  expression  of  the  growing  metro- 
politan literary  consciousness  of  the  decade  was  "the  Saints'  and 
Sinners'  Corner."  Engene  Field,  the  poet  and  prose  humorist, 
who  had  been  in  newspaper  work  in  Missouri  and  Colorado  for 
ten  years  before  he  was  drawn  to  Chicago,  in   1883,  was  the 


520  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

voice  of  this  unique  group.  The  "Saints  and  Sinners"  were  a 
score  of  bibliophiles — clergymen,  general  readers,  and  literary 
workers — who  held  meetings,  imaginary  for  the  most  part,  in 
the  rare-book  comer  of  the  retail  department  of  the  house  of 
A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.,  from  another  section  of  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  there  emanated  a  journal  of  literary  criticism.  It 
was  really  a  comer  in  the  Daily  Nezvs,  where  Field  had  a 
column  devoted  to  gossip  about  "The  Saints  and  Sinners,"  and 
local  literary  and  artistic  topics,  under  the  caption  "  Sharps  and 
Flats."  This  was  widely  read  and  had  a  great  effect  on  the  ideas 
of  the  community.  From  it,  in  1887,  Field  culled  selections, 
which  were  published  in  book- form  by  Ticknor  &  Co.,  of  Boston, 
under  the  title:  Culture's  Garland  —  Being  Memoranda  of  the 
Gradual  Rise  of  Literature,  Music  and  Society  in  Chicago,  and 
Other  Western  Ganglia. 

The  garland  with  which  Field  wreathed  Chicago  culture,  as 
shown  in  a  frontispiece,  was  a  string  of  sausages.  He  rhade  a 
reference  to  the  time  "  when  Chicago's  output  of  pork  swept  the 
last  prop  from  under  the  old  Elizabethan  school  at  Cincinnati ; " 
and  said,  on  p.  168: 

Here  in  Chicago  "  a  hand  well  known  in  literature "  is  a  homy,  warty 
but  honest  hand  which,  after  years  of  patient  toil  at  skinning  cattle,  or  at 
boiling  lard,  or  at  cleaning  pork,  has  amassed  sufficient  to  admit  of  its  mas- 
ter's reception  into  the  crime  de  la  crime  of  Chicago  culture. 
Besides  the  extreme  expression  of  satirical  criticism  which  he 
gave  to  sham  in  literary  patronage.  Field  also  played  with  super- 
ficiality in  efforts  at  literary  and  artistic  production,  including 
some  fun  at  the  expense  of  three  ambitious  literary  periodicals 
started  in  Chicago  during  the  decade.  All  this  was  the  expres- 
sion of  an  attitude  that  is  typical  of  metropolitan  centers,  and 
which  in  older,  cosmopolitan  capitals  attains  a  degree  of  frigid  or 
flippant  cynicism  never  yet  reached  by  Chicago. 

The  three  periodicals  noticed  by  Field,  while  not  devoted  to 
satire,  were  more  metropolitan  in  character  than  any  which  had 
preceded  them  in  the  succession  of  those  started  in  Chicago. 
These  were  the  Current,  a  weekly  begun  in  1883  and  lasting  until 
1888 ;  Literary  Life,  a  monthly  magazine,  1884-87 ;  and  America, 
a  literary  and  political  weekly  journal,  1888-91. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  52 1 

The  Current  was  the  creation  of  Edgar  L.  Wakeman,  a 
brilliant  newspaper  man.  Magazinedom  is  a  kingdom  of  heaven 
of  which  many  newspaper  men,  in  Chicago  as  elsewhere,  often 
fondly  dream.  Mr,  Wakeman's  venture  stands  as  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  efforts  to  get  over  the  wall.  As  Chicago  corre- 
spondent for  the  newspaper  of  Colonel  Henry  Watterson,  Mr. 
Wakeman  had,  by  the  use  of  postal  cards  which  he  sent  out  to 
prominent  people,  saying,  "You  will  be  interested  in  such  and 
such  a  number  of  the  Louisville  Courier,"  attracted  much  atten- 
tion to  his  work  in  a  paper  that  allows  scope  for  individuality. 
Both  in  promotion  and  character  the  Current  was  sensational. 
In  an  early  number  the  Current  declared  that  it  was  "the  weekly, 
literary,  news,  and  family  journal  of  our  time."  Its  ambitious 
ideal  was  stated  as  follows:  "The  Current  is  yet  a  model  of 
brevity  and  does  every  week  what  the  pretentious  magazines  aim 
to  do  once  a  month." 

While  a  family  journal,  the  Current  was  far  above  the  plane 
of  the  "  family-story  "  type  of  papers  in  literary  quality.  Its  con- 
tents had  distinct  literary  merit.  And  yet  they  were  not  of  the 
classic  character  approached  in  such  a  magazine  as  the  Lakeside 
Monthly.  It  was  a  magazine  of  popular  literature.  It  may  with 
approximate  accuracy  be  listed  as  the  first  of  that  type  undertaken 
in  Chicago.  And  by  Mr.  Forrest  Crissey,  the  western  editor  for 
two  current  eastern  magazines  of  the  popular  literature  type,  its 
career  of  five  years  is  rated  as  the  most  significant  of  efforts  at 
periodical  publishing  in  Chicago  prior  to  those  of  the  present 
decade.  Its  popular  character  is  to  be  seen  by  dipping  into  a  file 
at  the  Public  Library.  For  example,  a  serial  story  by  E.  P.  Roe, 
entitled  "  An  Original  Belle,"  is  to  be  found  in  its  pages.  , 

The  field  from  which  Mr.  Wakeman  gathered  serials,  short 
stories,  poems,  and  articles  was  not  confined  to  the  city  limits,  nor 
by  the  boundaries  of  the  Middle  West,  nor  yet  by  those  of 
America.  The  management  of  the  Current  was  the  first  among 
Chicago  publishers  to  seek  manuscripts  from  England.  While 
not  so  well  favored  with  results  as  has  been  the  editor  of  the 
Red  Book  of  the  present  day,  the  effort  shows  a  metropolitan 
breadth  approached  by  Chicago  publishers  in  the  eighties. 


522  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

In  securing  contributions  from  American  authors  of  estab- 
lished reputation  the  Current  was  more  successful.  James  B 
Cable,  with  "  Southern  Silhouettes,"  James  Whitcomb  Riley,  and 
Joaquin  E.  Miller  were  among  the  contributors.  In  its  early 
career  the  Current  was  reported  to  have  $100,000.00  worth  of 
excellent  manuscripts  pigeon-holed.  From  the  first,  however, 
Chicago  men  were  important  contributors.  Eugene  Field,  Ernest 
McGaffey,  Colonel  William  Lightfoot  Visscher,  and  John  Mc- 
Govern  were  among  them.  Field  played  with  the  pretentions  of 
the  editor  of  the  Current  in  the  report  of  a  "Convention  of  West- 
em  Writers"  at  Indianapolis,  where  he  said  literary  workers 
would  be  asked :  "But  have  you  never  written  anything  for  the 
Current?  He  remarked  that  the  implication  was:  "If  you 
have,  you  must  be  all  right. 

In  1885  Mr.  John  McGovem,  a  vivid  imaginative  writer, 
who  honestly  believes  that  the  "West  is  in  literary  rebellion 
against  the  East,"  and  that  "  General  McClurg's  chief  office  was 
to  command  a  literary  blockhouse  and  keep  down  the  Indians  of 
the  frontier,"  became  editor  of  the  Current.  The  periodical 
became  an  avowed  exponent  of  the  literary  interest  of  the  people 
in  Chicago  and  the  West,  and  their  support  was  asked.  As  an 
experiment  to  see  if  such  support  could  mot  be  secured,  in  1885  a 
beautiful  Easter  edition  was  prepared.  With  the  enterprise 
backed  by  Mr.  George  Wiggs,  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Trade 
interested  in  the  patronage  of  local  letters,  100,000  copies,  four 
times  the  normal  number,  were  printed.  The  paper  bill  alone 
was  $3,000.    But  the  bulk  of  the  issue  went  to  the  ragman. 

Under  Mr.  Wakeman's  administration  the  circulation  and 
advertising  had  been  sufficient  to  give  promise  of  success.  With 
the  magnetism  of  enthusiasm,  Mr.  Wakeman  had  interested  able 
financial  supporters.  But  by  the  end  of  his  second  year  the 
finances  were  in  a  tangle.  Mrs.  Starrett,  who  characterizes  the 
Current  as  "a  flash  in  the  pan,"  says  that  Mr.  Wakeman  pro- 
posed to  sell  the  Current  to  the  owners  of  the  Weekly  Magasine, 
which  had  grown  in  metropolitan  character  and  was  continued 
until  1884.  The  proposition  was  rejected.  Mr.  Wakeman  left 
town.     The  Current,  embarrassed  financially  and  narrowed  to 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  523 

"its  chosen  field  as  a  representative  of  western  literature" 
dragged  out  a  profitless  existence  until  1888,  when  it  was 
merged  with  America. 

In  the  meantime,  Literary  Life,  a  contemporary  of  the 
Current,  attracted  attention.  It  appeared  in  regulation  form, 
and  was  advertised  as  "an  illustrated  magazine  for  the  people; 
only  $1  a  year,  ten  cents  a  copy."  Charles  Dudley  Warner  was 
quoted  as  having  written  to  the  publisher  saying :  "  I  am  amazed 
that  you  can  afford  to  publish  such  a  very  handsome  periodical  at 
so  little  cost  to  the  subscriber." 

There  was  nothing  local  about  the  contents  of  Literary  Life. 
Essays  on  literary  topics,  biographical  sketches  and  portraits  of 
well-known  authors  in  America  and  England,  with  engravings 
to  show  their  "homes  and  haunts,"  appear  to  have  made  up  the 
material  sought  for  the  magazine,  which  also  announced  a 
somewhat  broader  ambition — namely,  to  be  "the  Century  of  the 
West."  To  what  degree  the  aspirations  it  advertised  were 
realized  cannot  be  ascertained  in  Chicago.  There  is  no  reliquary 
file  in  the  libraries  here. 

The  name  of  Rose  Elizabeth  Cleveland,  sister  of  President 
Grover  Cleveland,  was  conspicuously  connected  with  Literary 
Life,  Miss  Cleveland  was  the  editor  of  some  of  the  early  num- 
bers. But  although  a  Boston  organ  was  quoted  as  sayir^g, 
"Literary  Life  helps  to  make  Chicago  one  of  the  literary  centers 
of  the  country,"  Miss  Cleveland  never  came  to  this  literary  center. 
All  her  work  as  editor  was  done  at  her  home  in  New  York  state. 
Perhaps  this  arrangement  for  long-range  editing  may  be  inter- 
preted as  a  sign  of  a  broad,  metropolitan  outlook  on  the  part  of 
A.  P.  T.  Elder,  the  publisher. 

Miss  Cleveland,  in  a  letter  recently  sent  for  use  in  these 
papers,  said : 

I  was  interested  in  Literary  Life  for  three  months,  and  then  dropped  it 
because  of  a  wide  divergence  between  myself  and  its  business  manager  as  to 
policy  in  its  management.  During  the  three  months  in  which  I  did  my  rather 
amateurish  "  editing "  it  was  quite  successful,  and  would  in  the  hands  of  a 
more  discriminating  manager,  or  a  less  fastidious  editor,  have  been  a  profitable 
enterprise. 


524  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  close  of  its  career  was  chronicled  by  Field  in  1887,  with  the 
following  paragraph : 

For  the  information  of  our  public  we  will  say  that  the  Atlantic  Monthly 
is  a  magazine  published  in  Boston,  being  to  that  intelligent  and  refined  com- 
munity what  the  Literary  Life  was  to  Chicago  before  a  Fourth  Ward  con- 
stable achieved  its  downfall  with  a  writ  of  replevin. 

The  efforts  of  the  editor-publishers  of  America,  the  literary- 
political  weekly,  1888-91,  are  of  more  interest  in  many  ways  than 
any  others  by  periodical  publishers  at  Chicago  in  the  eighties. 
Mr.  Slason  Thompson  and  Mr.  Hobart  Chatfield-Taylor  were 
the  founders  of  America,  and  Mr.  Thompson  stuck  to  it  as  editor 
and  publisher  to  the  end  of  its  career.  At  the  time  of  its  founding, 
Mr.  Thompson,  as  he  is  today,  was  a  strong  journalist.  Mr. 
Chatfield-Taylor,  now  a  novelist  and  prominent  society  man,  was 
then  a  recent  college  graduate  of  independent  means,  just  begin- 
ning a  career  of  literary  endeavor. 

Mr.  Thompson  is  one  of  the  men  drawn  to  Chicago  by  the 
growing  importance  of  the  north-central  American  metropolis. 
Educated  for  the  bar  at  the  University  of  New  Brunswick,  ad- 
mitted to  practice  in  that  Canadian  province,  and  later  to  the  bar 
in  California,  he  had  entered  journalism  at  San  Francisco,  served 
on  the  New  York  Tribune,  and,  after  coming  to  Chicago  as  agent 
for  the  New  York  Associated  Press,  had  been  one  of  the  founders 
of  the  Chicago  Herald,  and  had  held  numerous  important  editorial 
positions.  While  in  San  Francisco,  Mr.  Thompson  had  been  an 
admirer  of  the  Argonaut,  published  there  by  Frank  Pixley.  He 
believed  that  if  a  serious  literary  periodical  published  on  the 
Pacific  coast  could  succeed,  one  brought  out  in  Chicago  should 
surely  do  so.  Mr.  Thompson  was  one  of  the  "  Saints  and 
Sinners,"  an  intimate  friend  of  Field,  and  in  later  years  the 
collator  of  some  of  that  author's  writings.  In  "  Sharps  and 
Flats,"  Field,  referring  to  an  imaginary  sale  of  pews  in  the 
famous  corner,  made  the  following  remark : 

Mr.  Slason  Thompson,  boiling  over  with  indignation,  declared  that  if  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Bristol  and  General  McClurg  intended  to  form  a  trust  on  pews, 
they  must  expect  to  feel  the  castigatory  torments  of  the  nimble  pen  and  sar- 
castic pencil  wielded  by  the  facile  editor  of  America. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  $2$ 

In  America  Mr.  Thompson  was  strong  in  writing  castigations. 
His  supreme  interest  was  in  political  questions,  and  he  made  them 
all  hinge  on  one  —  that  of  immigration. 

Mr.  Taylor  had  just  come  home  to  Chicago  from  Cornell 
University,  where  he  had  been  connected  with  the  undergraduate 
journals.  Today  he  laughingly  says :  "  Having  been  on  the  col- 
lege papers,  I  thought  I  could  set  the  world  on  fire."  Mr.  Taylor 
was  not  greatly  interested  in  political  and  sociological  questions. 
His  supreme  interest,  as  an  editor,  was  in  literary  form. 

Although  the  endeavor  to  combine  the  literary  and  political 
interest  was  a  striking  phenomenon  in  America,  during  the  first 
few  months  a  remarkably  strong,  cosmopolitan  literary  character 
in  a  large  part  of  its  contents  was  the  feature  which  attracted 
wide  attention.  The  greatest  array  of  contributions  from  noted 
American  authors  ever  secured  for  a  Chicago  periodical  was 
spread  in  the  pages  of  America  during  the  first  few  weeks  of  its 
publication.  Some,  also,  were  from  England.  The  file  in  the 
Chicago  Public  Library  would  please  any  reader  fond  of  the 
works  of  American  authors.  A  poem  by  James  Russell  Lowell, 
contributions  from  Charles  Dudley  Warner  and  Julian  Haw- 
thorne, and  an  instalment  of  a  serial  by  Frank  R.  Stockton  are 
among  the  contents  of  the  first  number.  Hawthorne  conducted 
a  department  of  literature  for  many  weeks,  and  was  succeeded  in 
that  by  Maurice  Thompson.  Andrew  Lang,  the  English  essayist, 
was  a  frequent  contributor.  Swinburne  was  among  the  authors 
of  poems.  Poetry  by  Holmes,  Scollard,  Morris,  McGrath,  Riley, 
Garland,  and  Waterloo  was  printed.  Eugene  Field  wrote  his 
"Little  Boy  Blue"  for  America.  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox  and 
Louise  Chandler  Moulton  were  among  the  contributors.  The 
aim  of  Mr.  Taylor  was  not  to  secure  material  with  which  to  make 
the  popular  type  of  magazine,  but  to  get  for  America  the  best  of 
the  current  American  literary  output.  Fabulous  prices  were  paid 
for  these  contributions.  For  Bret  Harte's  "Jim"  the  sum  of 
$500  was  given.  Mr.  Taylor  is  said  to  have  sunk  from  $50,000 
to  $100,000  in  the  America  venture ;  and  a  good  part  of  that  sum 
went  for  manuscripts.    America's  outlook  over  American  litera- 


526  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ture  was  broader  than  that  of  any  literary  magazine  containing 
fiction  and  poetry  undertaken  in  Chicago  during  the  eighties. 

The  publication  of  this  representative  American  .literary  out- 
put, secured  at  such  extravagant  prices,  was  continued  for  only  a 
few  weeks.  It  did  not  pay.  But  few  copies  of  America  circulated 
east  of  the  Alleghanies.  "  Literary  trade-winds  blow  from  the 
east,"  says  Mr.  Thompson  today.  The  circulation  of  America 
was  for  the  most  part  western,  and  at  no  time  did  it  exceed 
10,000.  After  the  |)eriod  of  high  prices  for  contributions,  Mr. 
Taylor  wrote  nearly  all  of  the  literary  contents  under  a  series  of 
noms  de  plume.  In  recounting  this  part  of  his  experiences  with 
America,  Mr,  Taylor  said :  "  That  is  where  I  gained  my  literary 
training." 

Two  local  writers  who  have  since  attained  national  promi- 
nence in  lines  of  artistic  production  were  assistant  editors  of 
America  during  parts  of  its  career  as  a  training  school  — 
Reginald  De  Koven,  composer,  and  Harry  B.  Smith,  light-opera 
librettist.  Writing  as  "Quaver,"  Mr.  De  Koven  conducted  a 
department  of  musical  criticism.  Of  Mr.  De  Koven's  column, 
Belford's  Magazine,  a  Chicago  contemporary  of  America,  said : 

His  notes  will  be  read  with  much  interest,  for  he  is  an  eminently  qualified 
musician;  a  graduate  of  Oxford  University,  England,  and  essentially  cosmo- 
politan as  regards  his  education. 

Mr.  Smith,  who  was  beginning  his  literary  work,  was  at  first 
listed  as  assistant  editor  and  later  as  business  manager,  although 
Slason  Thompson  says  the  periodical  never  had  any  business 
management  in  the  present-day  sense.  Mr.  Smith  was  a  frequent 
contributor  of  verse. 

While  starting  out  with  a  notable  character  as  to  genuine 
American  literature,  America  from  the  first  was  distinguished  for 
the  virile  political  interest  and  the  vigorous  personality  of  Mr. 
Thompson,  which  stood  out  in  its  pages  most  emphatically.  The 
very  title,  while  suggesting  the  literary  interest,  was  conspicuous 
for  its  political  significance,  and  a  sub-title  declared  America  to  be 
"  a  journal  for  Americans."  Articles  by  Seth  Lx)w  on  "  American 
Patriotism,"  and  by  Theodore  Roosevelt  on  "Americans  Past 
and  Present,  and  the  Americanization  of  Foreigners,"  appeared 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  527 

in  the  first  numbers.  In  editorials,  and  in  a  department  headed 
"Americanisms,"  Mr,  Thompson  hammered  away  continually 
in  favor  of  the  restriction  of  immigration  and  of  limiting  the 
influence  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church  in  American  affairs. 

The  literary  character  of  the  weekly  faded  away  with  the 
twenty-third  number.  By  mutual  agreement,  Mr.  Taylor  retired, 
and  Mr,  Thompson  became  sole  editor  and  publisher.  In  an 
editorial  announcement,  Mr.  Thompson  remarked  that  there 
would  be  "no  deviation  from  the  high  literary  entertainment," 
and  then  laid  all  emphasis  on  a  statement  that  America  would 

continue  to  urge  the  restriction  of  all  immigration  by  consular  inspection  and 
a  per  capita  tax,  the  making  of  citizenship  essential  to  the  privilege  of  suffrage, 
and  the  limitation  of  the  right  to  vote  to  citizens  who  can  read  and  write; 

and  other  propositions  for  the  protection  of  "America's  free 
schools,  American  morality,  and  American  nationality."  To 
enforce  these  ideas,  in  some  of  the  later  numbers  there  was  a  use 
of  cartoons,  the  first  and  only  illustrations  published  in  America. 
One  of  these  was  sublined,  "  America  for  the  Irish."  Another,  a 
lurid  thing  with  much  black  ink,  done  by  the  famous  Thomas 
Nast,  was  called  "  Foreign  Thrones  among  Us."  But  the 
advocacy  of  such  sentiments  did  not  prove  popular  enough  to 
bring  large  business  returns,  and  with  the  number  of  Septem- 
ber 24,  1 89 1,  the  transfer  of  America  and  all  that  pertained  to  it, 
except  the  "  personal  opinions  of  the  editor,"  was  announced  by 
Mr.  Thompson.  In  penning  his  farewell  editorial  he  said :  "  In 
respect  to  several  subjects  too  much  slighted  in  the  daily  press, 
America  has  been  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness ; "  and  declared 
that  the  policy  had  been  to  put  forth  "  a  firm  but  moderate  opposi- 
tion to  the  political  and  educational  policy  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
church  in  the  United  States,"  and  to  give  expression  to  faith  in 
the  American  common  school  as  an  "alembic"  for  the  varied 
nationalities  represented  in  American  population. 

While  the  mixture  of  representative  American  literature  and 
national  political  policy  in  America  makes  it  stand  as  an  index 
of  the  growing  metropolitan  spirit  of  Chicago  in  the  eighties,  it 
was  this  mixture,  and  the  gradual  increase  of  the  political  element 


528  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

—  the  advocacy  of  a  cause  —  which  brought  failure  to  America. 
Mr.  Taylor  says : 

Besides  our  inexperience,  the  fact  that  the  periodical  was  published  in 
Chicago  and  not  in  New  York  kept  it  from  gaining  a  sure  foothold. 

Mr.  Thompson,  also,  says: 

Of  course,  there  was  a  prejudice  against  a  journal  from  Chicago;  and  the 
labor  organizations  here  made  prices  of  printing  higher  than  in  New  York. 
But  these  magazine  failures  are  not  peculiar  to  Chicago.  There  has  been  no 
greater  extinction  here  than  those  of  Putnam's  and  the  Eclectic  in  New  York. 

Nevertheless,  the  chief  reason  for  the  disappearance  of  Atnerica 
remains  the  decline  of  its  appeal  to  the  pure  literary  interest,  and 
the  phenomenal  persistence  and  increase  in  its  appeal  to  interest 
in  one  political  idea.  In  forsaking  literature  to  follow  the  anti- 
immigration  will-o'-the-wisp,  America  followed  the  line  of 
extinction  taken  in  Chicago  in  the  earliest  period  by  the  Literary 
Budget,  founded  in  1852  and  transformed  in  1855  ^^  the  short- 
lived Native  Citizen.  It  is  difficult  to  make  a  literary  tree  grow 
out  of  a  political  platform. 

That  America  in  dying  was  transferred  to  the  Graphic  was  in 
line  with  the  developments  of  periodical  publishing  at  Chcago  in 
the  decade  following  the  eighties.  The  Graphic  was  an  Illustrated 
weekly  of  about  the  same  age  as  America.  "  With  the  World's 
Columbian  Exposition  coming,"  said  America's  editorial  valedic- 
tory, "  during  the  next  two  years,  the  Graphic,  having  the  facili- 
ties, will  render  valuable  service  to  Chicago." 

Other  weeklies  with  metropolitan  earmarks  springing  up  in 
the  eighties  were  those  of  the  smart  variety.  These  contained  a 
melange  of  clever  comment  on  current  events  and  local  society 
ntws,  verse,  and  other  material  of  interest  for  its  form  of  expres- 
sion. The  Rambler,  started  in  1884,  by  Reginald  De  Koven  and 
Harry  B.  Smith,  and  carried  on  until  1886  by  Elliott  Flower,  was 
the  most  interesting  of  these  weeklies.  It  was  "A  Journal  of 
Men,  Manners,  and  Things."  Mr.  Flower,  in  an  interview  for 
these  papers,  said : 

We  wanted  to  do  for  Chicago  what  Life  does  for  New  York.  The 
manager  of  the  Western  News  Co.  said :  "  Put  a  New  York  date  line  on  it, 
or  the  West  won't  take  it."    We  did  not  do  so.    But  he  was  right. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  529 

The  Rambler  never  secured  more  than  5,000  readers,  and  the 
experiment  cost  its  promoters  several  thousand  dollars.  Its  chief 
result  of  permanence  was  the  training  Mr,  Flower  had  through 
it  for  writing  the  humorous  sketches  and  fiction  which  he  has 
since  contributed  to  magazine-  and  book-publishers  elsewhere. 
Vanity  Fair  was  the  name  of  a  "literary  and  society  weekly" 
which  was  of  sufficient  interest  to  be  listed  in  the  newspaper 
annuals  for  1885  and  1886.  Appleton's  In  the  Swim,  a  "literary, 
travel,  and  society  weekly,"  engrafted  on  an  advertising  trav- 
elers' bureau,  flourished  from  1887  to  1891.  And  a  "pictorial 
weekly  "  having  the  name  Life  was  attempted  in  1889,  but  did  not 
survive.  A  monthly  in  regular  magazine  form,  designated  the 
Society  Magazine,  and  filled  with  selections  from  the  periodicals 
of  England,  came  out  during  the  entire  calendar  year  1888,  and 
left  a  file  in  the  Public  Library. 

A  most  creditable  monthly  for  "gentlemen  of  wealth  and 
culture,"  as  its  advertising  read,  was  Wildwood's  Magazine, 
edited  by  "Will  Wildwood"  (Fred  E.  Pond),  and  undertaken  in 
Chicago  in  1888.  During  its  first  year  it  was  devoted  to  "the 
higher  literature  of  manly  sport."  "  To  readers  seeking  reflection 
of  the  charms  of  woodcraft  we  oflfer  the  work  of  contributors 
whose  genial  essays  partake  of  the  breezy  character  of  forest  and 
field,"  said  the  initial  number,  which  commented  on  the  expansion 
of  the  literature  of  sport  during  the  twenty  years  just  then  past. 
Perusal  of  a  file  in  the  Newberry  Library  shows  that  the  magazine 
contained  charming  tales,  essays,  and  memoirs  of  sportsmen. 
Both  in  subject-matter  and  in  form  its  pages  made  a  pleasing 
appeal  to  the  play  instinct,  which  some  of  the  authoritative  psy- 
chologists say  is  essentially  the  same  as  the  aesthetic  interest.  But 
at  the  end  of  a  year,  Charles  Hallock,  the  former  editor  of  Forest 
and  Stream,  became  associated  in  the  editorship,  a  philosophy  of 
the  serious  interest  in  outdoor  activity  was  announced,  the  name 
was  changed  to  Recreation,  and  "  geological  picnics  "  were  organ- 
ized from  a  branch  office  at  Washington.  This  brought  public 
ridicule.  An  editorial  retort  in  the  magazine  listed  the  national 
capital   as   "the  graveyard  of  journalism,"   and   a   delightful 


530  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

aesthetic  publication  of  high  literary  quality  went  to  pieces  on 
the  dry  rocks  of  a  knowledge  interest. 

A  phase  of  the  increasing  complexity  in  the  character  of 
Chicago  —  complexity  growing  out  of  the  industrial  magnitude 
of  the  city  in  the  eighties  —  was  reflected  in  the  starting  of  several 
magazines  devoted  to  serious  subjects  but  appealing  to  the  popu- 
lar literary  interest  through  the  form  of  essays,  supplemented 
with  fiction  and,  in  some,  with  illustrations.  Questions  on  the 
relations  of  capital  and  labor  began  to  be  the  subject  of  much  talk 
and  action  in  Chicago  —  questions  whose  consideration  has  since 
grown  to  such  importance  here  as  to  make  the  city  one  of  the 
caldrons  in  which  much  of  social  import  is  seething.  In  1886  a 
violent  manifestation  of  this  came  in  the  anarchist  riots  at  Hay- 
market  Square,  which,  it  may  be  mentioned  incidentally,  were 
pictured  with  large  wood  cuts  in  the  Illustrated  Graphic  News, 
published  simultaneously  in  Chicago,  New  York,  Cincinnati, 
Detroit,  and  Kansas  City,  in  that  year.  But  the  riots  and  the 
execution  of  the  anarchists  were  merely  the  extreme  expression 
of  elements  constantly  stimulating  serious  thought. 

A  monthly  magazine  called  the  Commonzvealth,  started  in 
1888,  was  recorded  in  the  newspaper  annuals  until  1892.  But 
Belford's  Magazine,  of  which  No,  i,  June,  1888,  bore  the  imprint 
"  Chicago,  New  York,  and  San  Francisco,"  is  the  most  significant 
serious  periodical  of  the  decade  which  is  represented  among  the 
files.  It  appears  that,  during  its  second  year,  the  periodical  was 
issued  from  New  York,  that  in  1892  its  headquarters  were  moved 
back  to  Chicago,  and  that  it  died  in  1893.  ^^  statement  on 
American  life  and  serious  periodicals  was  made  by  the  editor,  in 
June,  1889.    In  an  editorial  he  said: 

When  the  best  blood  of  Europe  sought  these  shores  as  laborers  or  pirates, 
they  sought  to  conquer  a  continent.  The  victory  achieved  between  the  first 
landing  and  now  is  simply  a  marvel  of  industry,  endurance,  energy,  and 
enterprise.  In  this  struggle  of  man  versus  matter  we  have  become  materialists. 
Out  of  sixty  odd  millions  of  population,  about  three  million  read  books,  and 
these  mainly  novels.  To  attempt  the  publication  of  a  monthly  devoted  to  the 
discussion  of  grave  subjects,  to  be  to  the  thoughtful  reformer  of  this  country 
what  the  Westminster  of  London  has  been  to  the  Liberals  of  England,  would 
be   commercial    insanity.      Successful    American    magazines    are    devoted    to 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  5  3 1 

pictorial  exhibits,  which,  although  they  are  artistically  done,  yet  make  only 
picture-books,  to  be  looked  at,  not  read. 

The  file  shows,  however,  that  in  Belford's  Magazine  an 
endeavor  to  popularize  serious  subjects  was  made.  On  the  occa- 
sion of  locating  in  Chicago  again  in  1892,  the  magazine  editorially 
declared  that  "the  literature  of  the  West  has  been  acted,  it  has 
been  done"  —  not  written. 

Another  type  of  serious  magazine  broadly  to  be  classed  as 
literary,  which  grew  up  in  the  eighties  at  Chicago,  was  the  home- 
study  journal.  Some  of  these  were:  the  Correspondence  Uni- 
versity Journal,  monthly,  1884-86;  the  University,  1885-86, 
biweekly,  claiming  to  be  a  successor  to  the  Weekly  Magazine; 
the  Home  Library  Magazine,  monthly,  1887;  and  the  National 
Magazine,  published  by  a  so-called  "  National  University  "  from 
1889  to  1894. 


THE  BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  * 


G,    ARCHDALL    REID,    M.B.,    F.R.S.E. 
London 


Probably  no  facts  can  be  named  of  such  importance  as  those 
of  heredity.  They  he  at  the  basis  of  every  science  and  every  pur- 
suit that  deals  with  living  beings.  Hardly  a  social,  moral,  or 
intellectual  question  can  be  thought  of  but  we  find  that  in  its 
deeper  aspects  it  is  a  problem  of  heredity.  Heredity  concerns  not 
only  the  philosopher  and  the  man  of  science,  but  also  the  parent, 
the  teacher,  the  doctor,  and  even  the  statesman,  the  social 
reformer,  and  the  historian.  Properly  handled,  it  is  not  a  very 
abstruse  subject.  We  are  able  to  reach  tolerably  certain  conclu- 
sions without  traveling  much  beyond  the  range  of  knowledge 
common  to  most  educated  men.  Nevertheless,  though  in  all  ages 
heredity  has  greatly  interested  all  men,  it  has  as  yet  few  real  stu- 
dents. The  very  interest  it  has  excited  has  burdened  it  with 
superstitions,  which  in  the  past  have  been  accepted  as  matters  of 
common  knowledge  by  men  of  science,  who  have  added  to  the 
obscurity  by  elaborately  seeking  to  explain  the  existence  of  the 
non-existent,  the  possibility  of  the  impossible.  Only  very  recently 
have  some  of  these  cobwebs  been  swept  away. 

The  basis  of  all  life  is  the  cell.  A  cell  is  a  minute  mass  of 
living  protoplasm.  Cells  multiply  by  absorbing  nutriment  and 
dividing  into  two  or  more  daughter-cells.  In  the  lowest  organ- 
isms the  daughter-cells  separate.  Each  individual,  therefore, 
consists  of  a  single  cell.  Higher  organisms  consist  of  many,  it 
may  be  billions,  adherent  cells  which  work  together  for  the  com- 
mon benefit.  Among  the  cells  of  multicellular  individuals  are  the 
germ-cells,  to  which  is  delegated  the  function  of  producing  future 
individuals,  future  cell-communities.    A  germ-cell  from  one  indi- 

^  Read  before  the  Sociological  Society,  at  the  School  of  Economics  and 
Political  Science  (University  of  London),  Qare  Market,  W.  C,  October  24,  1905. 
Sir  John  A.  Cockburn  in  the  chair. 

532 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  533 

vidual  unites  with  a  germ-cell  from  another.  The  compound  cell 
thus  formed,  the  fertilized  ovimi,  multiplies  by  dividing  and 
redividing  many  times  the  one  cell  into  two  cells,  till  a  new 
individual,  a  new  cell-colony  —  a  man,  for  instance  —  arises. 
During  multiplication,  differentiation  in  form  and  function  occurs 
among  the  cells,  so  that  ultimately  the  individual  is  compounded 
of  many  different  kinds  of  cells  —  muscle-cells,  skin-cells,  gland- 
cells,  nerve-cells,  and  so  forth.  In  the  fertilized  ovum  is  a  dot,  the 
nucleus.  In  the  nucleus  are  ultra-microscopical  dots  and  threads 
of  a  substance  which,  when  multiplication  occurs,  displays  remark- 
able movements  and  is  divided,  seemingly  with  great  precision, 
among  the  daughter-cells.  In  this  way  it  passes,  apparently  with 
little  change,  from  the  germ-cells  of  the  parent  to  those  of  the 
offspring.  This  substance  has  been  identified,  with  a  high  degree 
of  probability,  as  the  germ-plasm,  the  bearer  of  heredity.  We 
need  not  pin  our  faith  to  any  theories  as  to  the  composition  of  the 
germ-plasm;  but  some  such  substance  there  must  be  —  some 
substance  which  is  the  bearer  of  heredity.  If  this  theory  of  the 
transmission  of  the  germ-plasm  from  germ-cell  to  germ-cell  be 
correct  —  and  all  the  evidence  indicates  that  it  is  correct  —  the 
child  resembles  his  parent,  not  because  his  several  parts  are 
derived  from  similar  parts  of  his  parent  —  his  head  from  his 
parent's  head,  his  hand  from  his  parent's  hand,  and  so  on  —  but 
because  his  germ-plasm  is  derived  by  direct  descent  from  the 
parental  germ-plasm,  and  therefore  is  very  similar.  The  nature 
of  the  germ-plasm,  therefore,  determines  the  nature  of  the  indi- 
vidual that  arises  from  the  germ-cells.  Thus  from  one  variety 
of  germ-plasm  proceeds  a  man,  and  from  another  a  rabbit.  When 
a  species  undergoes  evolution,  the  germ-plasm  undergoes  gradual 
change.  When  we  improve  our  domestic  plants  and  animals,  the 
alteration  is  always  in  essence  a  germinal  change.  It  is  the  germ- 
plasm  that  is  the  main  fact  to  be  grasped  in  a  study  of  heredity. 
All  the  characters,  all  the  physical  and  mental  parts,  of  a 
living  being  are  either  "inborn"  or  "acquired."  An  inborn 
character  is  one  which  comes  to  the  individual  "by  nature,"  as 
part  of  his  natural  inheritance.  An  acquired  character,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  a  modification  of  an  inborn  character  caused,  as  a 


534  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

rule,  by  use,  disuse,  or  injury.  For  example,  a  man's  hand  is 
inborn.  It  comes  to  him  by  nature;  it  arises  because  the  germ- 
plasm  in  the  germ-cell  whence  he  sprang  was  so  constituted  that 
it  caused  that  germ-cell,  under  fit  conditions  of  shelter  and  nutri- 
tion, to  multiply  into  a  being  having  a  man's  hand.  In  brief,  a 
man's  hand  is  a  germinal  character;  but  the  thickening  of  the 
skin  in  the  palm  of  the  hand  which  results  from  use,  or  a  scar 
which  results  from  injury,  is  not  an  inborn  character,  but  an 
acquirement. 

The  principal  mass  of  both  inborn  and  acquired  characters  are 
ancient  possessions  of  the  race.  Thus  the  hand  and  the  thickened 
skin  of  the  palm  have  been  possessed  by  innumerable  generations 
of  men.  But  in  some  characters  offspring  differ  from  their 
parents.  When  these  new  characters  are  inborn,  they  are  tech- 
nically termed  variations.  Thus,  if  the  child  of  normal  parents 
were  "  blind  "  "  by  nature,"  his  peculiarity  would  be  a  variation ; 
but  if  he  became  blind  by  injury,  it  would  be  an  acquirement. 
The  great  importance  of  distinguishing  between  inborn  and 
acquired  characters  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  former,  including 
variations,  tend  to  be  inherited  by  offspring,  whereas  most  stu- 
dents of  heredity  deny  that  the  latter  are  ever  inherited.  It  should 
be  noted  that  some  acquirements  are  of  great  magnitude.  Thus, 
in  the  human  being,  the  limbs  develop  beyond  the  infantile  stand- 
ard mainly  under  the  influence  of  use,  a  paralyzed  infant  limb 
growing  little,  if  at  all.  Almost  all  growth,  therefore,  that 
occurs  in  the  limbs  after  birth  is  an  acquirement. 

Offspring  tend  to  reproduce  the  main  mass  of  the  parental 
inborn  characters,  but  always  with  variations  —  with  innumer- 
able inborn  differences  —  which,  as  a  rule,  are  minute  as  com- 
pared with  the  likenesses.  Thus  the  child  of  a  human  being  is 
always  another  human  being,  but  "by  nature"  he  is  invariably 
somewhat  different  from  his  parent  —  a  little  taller  or  shorter, 
stronger  or  weaker,  fairer  or  darker,  and  so  forth.  The  chief 
problem  of  heredity,  both  theoretical  and  practical,  is  the  question 
as  to  what  causes  offspring  to  differ  from  their  parents  in  this 
inborn  way.  The  importance  of  the  problem  at  once  becomes 
evident  when  we  remember  that  all  racial  change,  all  evolution, 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  535 

depends  on  the  variations  of  the  individual  members  of  the 
species;  that  is,  on  changes  in  the  germ-plasm.  A  race  evolves 
ufhen  it  piles  variations  on  variations  during  successive  genera- 
tions. It  is  in  this  way  that  species  undergo  change  during  a  state 
of  nature.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  improve  our  domesticated 
plants  and  animals. 

Several  theories  have  been  formulated  to  account  for  the 
occurrence  of  variation,  but  they  may  all  be  placed  in  one  of  two 
categories.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  supposed  that  the  variations 
of  offspring  are  caused  by  changes  in  the  environments  of  the 
germ-cells  whence  the  offspring  arise;  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
supposed  that  they  are  not  so  caused,  but  arise  "spontaneously." 
The  first  theory  is  very  popular  with  medical  men.  Thus  it  is 
believed  by  them  that,  if  a  man  leads  a  healthy,  active  life,  his 
children  will  be  innately  stronger  and  more  vigorous  than  they 
would  otherwise  have  been;  whereas,  if  he  falls  into  ill-health 
through  want,  hardship,  disease,  dissipation,  or  some  such  cause, 
his  germ-cells  will  be  injured,  and  his  offspring  will  tend  to  be 
innately  inferior.  A  natural  corollary  to  this  hypothesis  is  a 
belief  that  a  race  will  grow  strong  and  vigorous  if  placed  under 
conditions  that  benefit  its  individuals ;  whereas  it  will  degenerate 
if  placed  under  opposite  conditions.  This  belief,  of  course,  is 
fundamentally  opposed  to  the  doctrine  of  natural  selection,  which 
supposes  that  races  evolve  only  when  placed  under  influences 
which,  because  injurious  to  the  individual,  weed  out  the  weak 
and  the  unfit,  and  leave  the  race  to  the  strong  and  fit. 

We  can  easily  test  these  opposing  doctrines  by  noting  what 
has  happened  to  various  races  of  men.  Negroes  on  the  west 
coast  of  Africa,  for  example,  have  been  exposed  for  hundreds, 
perhaps  thousands,  of  generations  to  severe  malaria.  This  disease 
is  caused  by  a  microbe  which  invades  the  body  in  great  numbers 
and  floods  it  with  a  virulent  poison,  in  which,  therefore,  the  germ- 
cells  are  literally  soaked.  Practically  speaking,  every  negro 
suffers  for  a  prolonged  period  from  malaria,  and  many  perish 
of  it.  If  ever  the  environment  of  the  germ-cell  causes  variations 
in  offspring,  it  should  do  so  in  this  instance.  But  what  do  we 
find  ?    Neither  the  negroes  nor  any  other  races  exposed  to  malaria 


536  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

have  grown  degenerate.  The  negroes,  for  example,  are  a  tall  and 
robust  race.  On  the  contrary,  every  race  that  has  been  exposed 
to  the  disease  is  resistant  to  it  precisely  in  proportion  to  the  dura- 
tion and  severity  of  its  past  sufferings;  and  this,  apparently,  is 
the  sole  effect  that  malaria  has  had  on  any  race.  The  same  is  true 
of  every  other  disease  and  every  other  adverse  condition  to  which 
any  race  is  subjected.  Thus  Englishmen,  who  have  suffered 
much  from  consumption,  are  more  resistant  to  it  than  negroes, 
who  have  suffered  less,  and  much  more  resistant  than  Polynesians, 
who  have  had  no  previous  experience  of  the  disease  and  are  exter- 
minated when  it  is  introduced  to  their  islands.  Extreme  cold  has 
not  rendered  degenerate  the  Eskimos,  nor  extreme  heat  the 
Arabs ;  they  have  merely  been  rendered,  by  the  survival  of  the  fit, 
resistant  to  heat  or  cold  respectively.  Many  races  have  been 
afflicted  by  alcohol  for  thousands  of  years.  Some  men  are  natur- 
ally more  susceptible  to  the  charm  of  alcohol  than  others.  These, 
because  they  are  more  tempted,  drink,  on  the  whole,  to  greater 
excess,  and  thus  are  weeded  out  to  a  greater  extent.  As  a  conse- 
quence, every  race  is  temperate  precisely  in  proportion  to  its  past 
experience  of  alcohol.  Thus  west-African  savages,  who  have 
long  possessed  unlimited  supplies  of  palm  toddy,  the  Jews,  and 
the  inhabitants  of  the  vine  countries  of  the  south  of  Europe  are 
more  temperate  than  north-Europeans,  and  infinitely  more  tem- 
perate than  most  savages.  What  is  true  of  alcohol  is  true  also  of 
opium.  Thus  the  natives  of  India,  who  have  long  used  the  drug, 
are  very  temperate;  the  Chinese,  who  have  used  it  for  two 
centuries,  are  less  temperate;  whereas  Burmans,  Australians, 
and  Polynesians,  who  have  only  lately  made  its  acquaintance,  are 
extremely  intemperate.  City  life,  particularly  slum  life,  is  injuri- 
ous to  the  individual.  Each  succeeding  generation  of  slum- 
dwellers  presents  a  very  debilitated  and  puny  appearance,  and 
the  mortality  is  immense.  But  races  that  have  been  most  sub- 
jected to  the  influences  of  city  life  —  the  Chinese,  for  example  — 
are  in  no  way  degenerate.  The  Chinese  are  a  particularly  fine 
race  of  people. 

^    On  the  other  hand,  as  is  well  known,  if  a  race  is  placed  under 
conditions  highly  beneficial  to  its  individuals,  so  that  the  elimina- 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  537 

tion  of  the  unfit  is  reduced  to  a  minimum,  it  tends  to  degenerate. 
Thus  we  cannot  improve  or  even  preserve  our  breed  of  race- 
horses merely  by  supplying  good  food  and  the  other  conditions 
necessary  for  a  healthy  existence.  We  must  weed  out  the  unfit, 
and  so  breed  the  race  with  care. 

Were  the  prevailing  medical  doctrine,  that  variations  are  nor- 
mally caused  by  the  direct  action  of  the  environment  on  the  germ- 
plasm,  true,  all  life  would  be  impossible  on  earth;  for  all  living 
species  are  subjected  to  deteriorating  influences,  such  as  cold, 
want,  and  disease.  Unless  the  germ-plasm  were  resistant  to  the 
environment,  every  species  would  drift  steadily  and  helplessly  to 
destruction.  Natural  selection  could  not  preserve  it.  There  could 
be  no  selection  when  all  variations  were  unfavorable.  There  could 
be  no  improvement  in  a  race  when  in  each  generation  all  its  indi- 
viduals were  inferior  to  their  predecessors.  Medical  men  found 
their  belief  chiefly  on  certain  statistics,  compiled  mainly  by  gentle- 
men in  charge  of  lunatic  asylums,  which  demonstrate  that  a  large 
number  of  feeble-minded  people  have  parents  or  grandparents  dis- 
eased or  intemperate.  But  these  statistics  fail  to  take  into  account 
the  proportion  of  cases  which  have  inherited  parental  defects,  or 
which  have  varied  spontaneously  from  the  parents.  They  fail  also 
to  demonstrate  that  asylum  patients  have  parents  diseased  or 
intemperate  in  a  greater  proportion  of  cases  than  people  of  the 
same  social  stratum  outside  the  walls.  I  hope  it  will  be  under- 
stood that,  in  controverting  the  prevailing  medical  doctrine,  I  do 
not  mean  to  imply  that  variations  in  offspring  are  never  caused 
by  parental  disease  or  intemperance.  I  mean  to  imply  merely 
that  instances  of  variations  so  caused  must  be  very  rare.  Other- 
wise the  race  would  become  extinct.  We  know  that  the  offspring 
of  diseased  and  intemperate  people  are  often  perfectly  normal  and 
robust.  That  implies  that  their  germ-plasm  was  insusceptible  to 
the  action  of  toxins  and  alcohol.  This  insusceptible  type  survives. 
The  susceptible  types  are  weeded  out.  A  high  degree  of  insus- 
ceptibility is  thus  established  as  a  necessary  condition  of  individual 
and  racial  survival,  and  in  the  process  of  ages  becomes  almost 
absolute.  Doubtless  the  germ-plasm  of  every  species  is  most 
insusceptible  to  the  influences  to  which  it  is  normally  exposed. 


538  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Under  exceptional  circumstances,  as  when  exposed  to  novel  and 
powerful  influences,  the  whole  race  is  sometimes  rendered  really 
degenerate,  as  is  proved  by  the  deterioration  of  European  dogs  in 
India  and  horses  in  the  Falkland  Islands.  But  the  mere  fact  of 
deterioration  under  novel  conditions  proves  clearly  how  necessary 
for  the  preservation  of  the  race  is  a  high  degree  of  insusceptibility 
to  the  influences  to  which  the  race  is  normally  exposed.  In  view 
of  the  indisputable  fact  that  races  undergo  evolution,  not  degenera- 
tion, when  exposed  to  disease  and  alcohol,  the  medical  doctrine  of 
heredity  amounts  in  effect  to  this,  that  if  only  a  race  goes  down 
hill  long  enough,  it  will  ultimately  arrive  at  the  top.  It  is  literally 
inconceivable  that  evolution  can  have  resulted  from  continuous 
degeneration. 

We  must  conclude,  therefore,  that  variations  are  very  rarely 
due  to  the  direct  action  of  the  environment  on  the  germ-plasm. 
This  conclusion  is  confirmed  by  another  set  of  facts,  which  serve 
also  to  indicate  the  true  source  of  variations  —  the  true  reason 
why  offspring  differ  innately  from  their  parents.  The  members 
of  a  litter  of  dogs,  cats,  or  pigs  always  vary,  not  only  from  their 
parents,  but  among  themselves,  and  may  vary  very  greatly.  Thus 
one  puppy  may  be  large,  strong,  vigorous,  dark,  and  rough-haired ; 
while  others  may  exhibit  different  qualities  in  all  sorts  of  com- 
binations. One  puppy  may  resemble  the  father,  another  the 
mother,  and  a  third  some  distant  ancestor.  Obviously,  their 
extreme  variations  cannot  be  due  to  the  action  of  environment; 
for  all  the  germ-cells  and  all  the  puppies  before  birth  were  placed 
under  conditions  that  were  practically  identical.  We  have  no 
choice,  therefore,  but  to  believe  that  the  variations  of  the  litter  are 
spontaneous;  in  other  words,  that  their  source  lies  in  the  nature 
of  the  germ-plasm,  not  in  the  action  of  the  environment.  We 
know  that  a  germ-cell,  on  being  fertilized,  spontaneously  produces 
many  different  kinds  of  body-cells,  such  as  skin-  and  muscle-cells. 
In  just  the  same  way  it  produces  spontaneously  germ-cells  which 
differ  among  themselves.  These  variations  are  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  the  j)ersistence  of  the  species.  Otherwise  natural  selection 
would  have  no  material  to  work  on.  Children  would  be  exact 
copies  of  the  parent,  and  the  race  could  not  adapt  itself  to  changes 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  $39 

in  the  environment.  Thus  it  is  only  because  children  vary  spon- 
taneously from  their  parents  in  all  directions,  like  bullet  marks 
round  a  bull's-eye,  that  natural  selection  has  been  able  to  render 
the  races  of  mankind  resistant  to  all  the  diseases  by  which  they  are 
assailed. 

We  reach  thus  two  fundamental  biological  laws.  The  first 
law  is  that  the  germ-plasm  is  very  highly  indifferent  to  the  action 
of  the  environment,  and  therefore  that  children  are  seldom 
affected  by  the  influences  to  which  their  parents  are  exposed.  The 
second  law  is  that  germ-cells,  and  therefore  the  individuals  that 
arise  from  them,  vary  spontaneously  among  themselves,  just  as 
the  body-cells  vary,  and  for  the  same  reason.  It  follows  that  we 
cannot  improve  races  of  plants  and  animals  by  improving  the  con- 
ditions under  which  they  exist.  Such  a  course  benefits  the  indi- 
vidual, but  results  in  racial  degeneration.  The  race  can  be 
improved  only  by  restricting  parentage  to  the  finest  individuals. 
All  the  practice,  if  not  the  theory,  of  breeders  confirms  us  in  this 
belief. 

It  will  be  well  worth  our  while  to  devote  a  little  space  to  a 
consideration  of  some  of  the  effects  resulting  from  man's  evolu- 
tion against  disease.  Probably  this  evolution  is  the  only  form  of 
evolution  which  civilized  races  are  now  undergoing.  Such  is  our 
care  for  the  weak  in  body  and  mind  that  there  is  nothing  to  indi- 
cate, for  example,  that  big  and  strong  and  active  men,  or  clever 
men,  have,  on  the  average,,  more  children  than  smaller  or  duller 
men.  Nearly  all  our  deaths  are  due  to  disease  or  old  age.  The 
few  that  are  otherwise  caused  are  not  selective  in  the  sense  that 
they  eliminate  particular  types  of  individual.  Thus  death  by 
drowning  does  not  select  particular  types.  It  falls  on  the  fit  and 
unfit  in  a  fashion  that  is  quite  haphazard. 

Zymotic  diseases  —  that  is,  diseases  due  to  living  microbes  — 
appear  to  have  originated  among  the  ancient  and  crowded  popu- 
lations of  the  Old  World.  Our  oldest  histories,  even  our  oldest 
myths,  tell  of  plague  and  pestilence.  But  we  have  no  indication, 
with  the  exception  of  malaria,  that  any  such  diseases  existed  in  the 
Western  Hemisphere  before  the  arrival  of  Europeans.  On  the 
contrary,  while  we  never  hear  of  European  adventurers  in  the 


540  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Western  Hemisphere  falling  ill  of  any  new  disease  except  malaria, 
we  have  quite  definite  accounts  of  the  first  introduction  of  this  or 
that  Old  World  malady  to  this  and  that  region  of  the  western 
world.  The  microbes  of  certain  diseases,  such  as  malaria  and  the 
sleeping-sickness,  are  transferred  from  one  human  being  to 
another  by  winged  insects,  and  may  therefore  prevail  jn  regions 
where  the  population  is  scanty.  But  most  other  zymotic  diseases 
pass  directly  from  man  to  man,  and  therefore  prevail  most  where 
the  population  is  densest.  Thus  the  mortality  from  consumption, 
and  therefore  the  stringency  of  selection  by  consumption,  is  much 
greater  in  the  slums  of  great  cities  than  in  the  open  country.  Dur- 
ing uncounted  centuries,  therefore,  with  the  advance  of  civiliza- 
tion and  the  increase  of  population,  man  in  the  Old  World  under- 
went evolution  against  many  forms  of  disease.  By  means  of  this 
evolution  he  achieved  the  power  of  dwelling  in  towns  and  cities, 
of  living  a  civilized  existence  in  spite  of  the  prevalence  of  disease. 
Then,  when  the  germs  of  disease  were  rife  in  every  home  and 
thick  on  the  garments  of  every  man,  Columbus  discovered 
America.  At  once  the  vastest  tragedy  in  human  existence  began. 
The  New  World  was  swept  from  end  to  end  by  recurrent  pesti- 
lences of  air-  and  water-borne  diseases,  such  as  small-pox,  measles, 
and  cholera.  Whole  tribes  and  nations  were  destroyed  or  deci- 
mated. But  an  equal  part  was  played  by  consumption.  This 
disease  particularly  affects  such  dark  and  ill-ventilated  houses  as 
are  built  by  men  of  European  race  in  cold  climates.  The  natives 
of  all  the  temperate  parts  of  the  New  World  melted  away  before 
it.  They  could  not  at  once  achieve,  under  the  worst  conditions, 
an  evolution  which  the  natives  of  the  Old  World  achieved  during 
the  course  of  many  centuries,  at  the  cost  of  hundreds  of  millions 
of  lives,  under  conditions  that  became  worse  only  very  slowly. 
Nowhere  in  all  the  temperate  parts  of  the  New  World  has  a  settle- 
ment of  white  men  a  native  quarter  such  as  every  white  settle- 
ment has  in  Asia  and  Africa.  The  destruction  wrought  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  tropical  forests  was  less.  Malaria,  to  which 
they  had  become  resistant,  protected  them  from  the  inrush  of 
Europeans,  while  the  abundance  of  heat  and  light,  and  the  absence 
of  towns  and   cities,   checked   the   prevalence  of  consumption. 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  54 1 

While,  therefore,  the  native  races  of  all  temperate  America,  as 
well  as  of  all  Australasia  and  Polynesia,  seem  irrevocably  doomed 
to  extinction,  it  is  possible  that  the  aborigines  of  tropical  America, 
strengthened  as  they  have  been  by  a  large  infusion  of  European 
blood,  may  persist.  In  the  more  temperate  regions  even  half- 
castes  perish  of  consumption ;  hence  the  absence  of  a  mixed  race. 

The  political  effects  of  the  invasion  of  the  New  World  by  the 
disease  of  the  Eastern  Hemisphere  have  been  very  remarkable. 
Spain  and  Portugal,  powerful  nations  in  the  fifteenth  and  six- 
teenth centuries,  had  the  first  start  in  the  race  for  empire,  and 
chose  the  seemingly  richer  tropics.  But  there  malaria  checked 
colonization,  and  consumption  did  not  cause  the  elimination  of 
the  natives.  The  weaker  British  were  shouldered  into  the 
inhospitable  north,  where  the  vast  void  cleared  by  disease  gave 
their  race  almost  limitless  room  for  expansion.  Subsequently  they 
secured  all  Australasia,  in  which  the  conditions  are  similar.  In 
the  New  World,  then,  the  Anglo-Saxons  have  founded  permanent 
empires.  Under  no  probable  conjunction  of  circumstances  are 
they  likely  to  be  uprooted.  But  the  fate  of  their  Old  World 
dependencies  will  be  different.  Here  the  natives  outnumber,  and 
will  always  outnumber,  them.  In  the  course  of  time  they  are  sure 
to  be  expelled  or  absorbed.  Their  fate  will  be  like  that  of  the 
Romans  and  the  Normans  in  England,  not  like  that  of  the  Saxons 
who  nearly  exterminated  the  Britons.  Disease  has  spread  over 
the  whole  world,  and  no  other  race  will  ever  again  have  the  oppor- 
tunities so  unconsciously  used  by  the  Anglo-Saxons.  So  vast  and 
fertile  are  their  territories  that  it  seems  probable  that  their  world- 
predominance  in  the  future  has  been  secured  by  disease. 

Roughly  speaking,  the  stimuli  under  which  a  human  being 
develops  are  three  in  number:  nutrition,  use,  and  injury.  All 
individuals  develop  at  first  under  what  may  be  regarded  as  the  sole 
stimulus  of  nutrition.  Thus  up  to  the  time  of  birth  the  human 
being  develops  under  the  influence  of  this  stimulus  alone.  Subse- 
quently some  of  his  structures  continue  to  develop  under  it;  for 
example,  his  ears,  his  hair,  and  his  teeth.  He  never  uses  his  hair 
nor  his  external  ears  in  any  active  sense;  obviously,  therefore, 
they  grow  simply  because  they  absorb  food.     He  uses  his  teeth, 


542  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

but  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  they  would  not  grow 
equally  well  if  he  did  not  use  them.  But  after  birth  other  of  his 
structures  develop  little,  if  at  all,  except  under  the  added  influence 
of  use;  for  example,  his  limbs,  his  heart,  and  his  brain.  If  no 
strain  were  placed  on  these  structures,  they  would  grow  little,  if  at 
all.  Food  alone  is  not  sufficient  for  their  continued  growth. 
Lastly,  if  the  individual  be  injured  at  any  time,  as  by  a  cut,  the 
stimulus  of  injury  causes  growth  to  take  place  during  the  process 
of  healing.  In  man  the  development  which  results  from  injury  is 
of  infinitely  less  importance  than  that  which  results  from  nutri- 
tion, and  from  nutrition  plus  use. 

Now,  since  no  parts  can  be  used  or  injured  unless  they  first 
exist,  and  so  are  capable  of  being  used  and  injured,  nutrition  must 
always  play  the  first,  and  generally  the  principal,  part  in  the 
development  of  living  beings.  And,  moreover,  when  living  beings 
first  came  into  existence,  it  must  have  played  the  sole  part  in  their 
development,  until  subsequently  there  was  evolved  the  power  of 
growing  under  the  stimulus  of  use  and  injury. 

The  power  of  growing  and  developing  under  the  influence  of 
use  is  apparently  quite  a  late  product  of  evolution.  It  seems  quite 
absent  except  in  the  higher  animals,  and  is  present  to  the  greatest 
extent  only  in  the  highest.  Thus  an  adult  man  owes  the  greater 
part  of  his  bulk  to  growth  made  under  the  influence  of  use ;  but 
there  is  not  the  least  evidence  that  most  insects,  for  example,  owe 
any  part  of  their  growth  to  its  influence.  They  grow,  as  the 
infant  grows  before  birth,  under  the  sole  influence  of  nutrition. 
Indeed,  the  most  of  their  structural  changes  occur  when  they  are 
quiescent  undergoing  metamorphosis ;  that  is,  when  they  are  not 
using  the  growing  part  of  their  structures.  But  it  is  not  body 
but  mind  that  supplies  the  clearest  evidence  that  the  capacity  of 
developing  under  the  influence  of  use  is  a  late  and  a  high  product 
of  evolution.  This  is  easily  seen  when  we  contrast  the  mental 
development  of  a  typical  insect  with  that  of  man. 

A  certain  beetle  (Sitaris)  lays  its  eggs  at  the  entrance  of  the  galleries 
excavated  by  a  kind  of  bee  (Anthophora),  each  gallery  leading  to  a  cell.  The 
young  larvae  are  hatched  as  active  little  insects,  with  six  legs,  two  long  antennae, 
and  four  eyes,  very  different  from  the  larvae  of  other  beetles.    They  emerge 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  543 

from  the  egg  in  the  autumn,  and  remain  in  a  sluggish  condition  till  the  spring. 
At  that  time  (in  April)  the  drones  of  the  bee  emerge  from  the  pupae,  and  as 
they  pass  out  through  the  gallery  the  Sitaris  larvae  fasten  upon  them.  There 
they  remain  till  the  nuptial  flight  of  the  Anthophora,  when  the  larva  passes 
from  the  male  to  the  female  bee.  Then  again  they  wait  their  chance.  The 
moment  the  bee  lays  an  egg,  the  Sitaris  larva  springs  upon  it.  Even  while  the 
poor  mother  is  carefully  fastening  up  her  cell,  her  mortal  enemy  is  beginning 
to  devour  her  offspring;  for  the  egg  of  the  Anthophora  serves  not  only  as  a 
raft,  but  as  a  repast.  The  honey,  which  is  enough  for  either,  would  be  too 
little  for  both ;  and  the  Sitaris,  therefore,  at  its  first  meal,  relieves  itself  from 
its  only  rival.  After  eight  days  the  egg  is  consumed,  and  on  the  empty  shell 
the  Sitaris  undergoes  its  first  transformation,  and  makes  its  appearance  in  a 

very  different  form It  changes  into  a  white,  fleshy  grub,  so  organized 

as  to  float  on  the  surface  of  the  honey,  with  the  mouth  beneath  and  the 

spiracles  above  the  surface In  this  state  it  remains  until  the  honey  is 

consumed;  and,  after  some  further  metamorphoses,  develops  into  a  perfect 
beetle  in  August.* 

Now,  the  notable  thing  about  Sitaris  is  that  he  appears  to  have 
no  memory.  He  seems  to  learn  nothing;  for  instance,  he  does 
not  learn  how  to  do  anything.  Many  of  his  actions  he  does  only 
once,  and  all  of  them  he  does  as  well  the  first  time  of  doing  as  the 
last  time.  Memory,  therefore,  would  be  of  no  use  to  him.  He 
arrives  in  the  world  perfectly  equipped  for  the  battle  of  his  life, 
and  is  quite  independent  of  all  experience.  He  absorbs  food,  and, 
as  he  grows,  his  mind,  such  as  it  is,  develops.  Nothing  besides 
the  food  is  necessary  for  its  development.  He  uses  his  mind,  but 
the  use  of  it  does  not  add  anything  to  it.  His  mental  characters, 
therefore,  are  all  inborn.  They  are  instincts.  An  instinct  is  an 
emotional  impulse  which  develops  under  the  mere  influence  of 
nutrition,  and  which  prompts  to  a  corresponding  action,  the 
instinctive  action.  A  man  is  very  different.  He  is  bom  very  help- 
less, with  few  instincts,  most  of  which  are  very  imperfect.  He  has 
the  instincts  of  sexual  and  parental  love,  but  he  learns  to  love  this 
or  that  particular  person.  He  has  the  instinct  to  sport,  and  so  to 
develop  his  body  by  using  it.  He  has  the  instincts  of  curiosity  and 
imitativeness  which  cause  him  to  use  his  mind,  and  so  to  develop 
it.  He  has,  besides,  the  instinct  to  eat  when  hungry,  and  to  rest 
when  tired,  and  one  or  two  other  instincts.    But,  on  the  whole,  his 

*  Lloyd  Morgan,  Animal  Intelligence,  pp.'  438,  439. 


544  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

equipment  of  instinct  is  reduced  to  a  minimum,  which  is  the  rea- 
son he  is  so  helpless  at  birth.  But  he  has  a  most  enormous 
memory,  a  most  prodigious  power  of  growing  mentally  as  he  uses 
his  mind.  From  birth  forward  he  continually  stores  experiences, 
by  which  he  guides  his  future  conduct,  and  thus  becomes  the  most 
helpful  of  animals.  Only  a  very  little  part  of  his  mind,  therefore, 
is  inborn  and  instinctive ;  immensely  the  greater  part  is  acquired, 
in  the  sense  that  it  develops  under  the  influence  of  use,  of  experi- 
ence. 

Now,  because  the  beetle's  mind  is  inborn,  owing  nothing  to 
experience,  therefore  one  beetle  is  mentally  almost  exactly  like 
every  other  beetle  of  the  same  species.  If  different  beetles  have 
different  experiences,  that  makes  no  difference  to  their  minds, 
since  they  are  incapable  of  profiting  by  it.  But,  because  a  man's 
mind  develops  almost  wholly  under  the  influence  of  experience, 
the  minds  of  no  two  men  are  alike.  Think  how  different  are  the 
minds  of  the  various  people  in  this  room  —  how  different  the  con- 
tents of  their  memories,  how  different  their  hopes  and  hates,  their 
ideals,  and  ambitions,  and  temptations.  If,  were  it  possible,  we 
exchanged  minds  one  with  another,  and  were  conscious  of  the 
change,  we  should  feel  almost  that  we  had  entered  a  new  and 
extraordinary  world.  But  if  one  Sitaris  exchanged  mind  with 
another,  he  would  not  know  the  difference.  In  brief,  our  minds 
differ  because  we  are  able  to  store  in  memory  our  experiences, 
which  are  never  alike  in  any  two  men.  The  minds  of  beetles,  on 
the  other  hand,  are  alike,  because  they  are  not  affected  by  experi- 
ence. According  to  the  experience  he  has,  an  average  baby  may 
become  a  fool  or  a  wise  man,  a  yokel  or  a  statesman,  a  savage  or  a 
civilized  man,  a  saint  or  a  thief.  He  may  be  trained  to  love  or 
abhor  a  particular  religion,  or  code  of  morals,  or  country.  Sitaris 
can  be  trained  to  nothing,  because  he  is  able  to  learn  to  remember 
nothing.  It  is  possible  to  trace  the  evolution  of  memory,  of  the 
power  of  learning  by  experience.  In  the  fish  and  frog  this  power 
is  extremely  limited.  These  animals  have  almost  purely  instinct- 
ive minds.  Their  bodies  also  appear  to  develop  almost  solely 
under  the  influence  of  nutrition,  for  frogs  imprisoned  in  cavities 
from  the  tadpole  stage  have  emerged  with  the  body  and  mind  fully 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  545 

developed.  >  The  cat,  on  the  other  hand,  learns  much.  By  its  play 
it  develops  both  body  and  mind.  A  dog  is  still  more  capable  of 
learning.  This  capacity  of  learning  and  utilizing  experience  is 
vv^hat  we  term  "intelligence."  All  our  domestic  animals  have 
some  intelligence,  which  is  why  we  are  able  to  tame  them.  Man, 
the  latest  product  of  evolution,  is  pre-eminent  above  all  other 
animals  in  his  capacity  for  storing  and  utilizing  experience.  It  is 
this  that  makes  him  human.  It  is  this  alone  that  makes  him 
rational.  All  thinking  depends  on  memory.  Such  an  animal  as 
Sitaris  cannot  think;  it  can  only  feel.  Man  is  inferior  to  Sitaris 
in  instinct,  but  in  intellect,  which  is  the  product  of  stored  experi- 
ence, he  is  immeasurably  superior. 

To  sum  up,  man  is  distinguished  from  all  other  animals,  first, 
by  his  enormous  power  of  storing  mental  experiences,  a  power 
which  we  term  "  memory  "  ;  and,  second,  by  his  equally  splendid 
power  of  utilizing  the  contents  of  his  memory,  a  power  which  we 
term  "  reason."  These  powers  are  possessed  by  all  races  of  man- 
kind and  by  all  sane  individuals;  though  it  may  be  that  this  or 
that  race  or  individual  has  greater  powers  than  another.  Simi- 
larly, all  races  and  sane  individuals  have  the  same  instincts;  for 
these,  like  memory  and  reason,  are  not  sudden  developments,  but 
products  of  prolonged  evolution.  It  is  possible,  of  course,  that 
one  race  or  one  individual  has  more  or  less  of  this  or  that  instinct 
than  another,  but  the  difference  can  seldom  be  great.  No  word 
is  more  abused  in  popular,  and  even  in  scientific,  literature  than 
"instinct."  Thus  we  often  hear  of  the  "instinct"  of  the  savage 
for  tracking  game.  But  no  savage  baby  is  bom  with  a  knowledge 
of  the  appearance  and  habits  of  wild  animals,  nor  does  the  knowl- 
edge arise  in  him  during  later  life,  in  the  absence  of  experience, 
any  more  than  a  knowledge  arises  thus  in  a  civilized  baby.  Pre- 
sumably, an  English  child,  under  fit  tuition,  would  acquire  the 
knowledge  just  as  quickly  and  easily.  So  also  we  hear  of  a  blow 
being  dodged  "  instinctively; "  but  no  human  being  dodges  blows 
until  he  has  learned  the  nature  of  blows  and  how  to  avoid  them. 
In  the  house-fly,  on  the  contrary,  the  knowledge,  if  we  may  so 
term  it,  of  dodging  blows  is  really  instinctive.  We  hear  of  the 
human  "  instinct "  of  fear ;  but  a  baby  fears  nothing  till  he  has 


546  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

learned  what  to  fear.  We  hear  of  the  "  instinct "  to  scratch  an 
itching  spot;  but,  unlike  the  bird  or  the  rabbit,  no  baby  ever 
scratches  until  he  has  learned  how  and  when  and  where  to  scratch. 
Man  is  almost  the  one  mammal  who  is  unable  to  swim  instinct- 
ively. It  is,  indeed,  very  plain  that  instincts  have  greatly  dwindled 
in  man.  It  is  fortunate  for  him  that  they  have  dwindled.  The 
loss  of  them  has  rendered  him  all  the  more  adaptable.  Reason 
is  a  greatly  superior  substitute,  provided  his  parents  tend  and  pro- 
tect him  till  he  has  acquired  it. 

We  know  that  different  individuals  and  races  of  man  differ 
greatly  in  body  and  mind.  Thus  the  Englishman  has  one  set  of 
physical  and  mental  characters,  the  Chinaman  another,  and  the 
west-African  black  a  third.  We  know  that,  to  a  large  extent,  the 
physical  differences  between  races  are  inborn,  and  we  are  apt  to 
assume  that  the  mental  differences  are  also  innate.  But  when  we 
remember  how  little  is  instinctive  in  the  mind  of  man,  and  how 
much  acquired,  a  strong  suspicion  is  raised  that  we  are  mistaken 
in  supposing  that  inborn  mental  differences  between  races  and 
individuals  are  so  great  as  are  commonly  supposed,  or,  at  any  rate, 
are  of  the  kind  that  most  people  think  they  are.  In  practice,  we 
assume  that  mental  training  is  everything,  and  for  that  reason  we 
carefully  educate  our  children,  seeking  to  endow  them  with  a  fund 
of  useful  knowledge,  with  energy  and  ability,  and  with  high 
ideals.  But  if  we  meet  a  man  who  is  clever  or  stupid,  or  energetic 
or  slothful,  or  morose  or  amiable,  and  so  forth,  we  almost  invari- 
ably assume  he  has  been  made  what  he  is  by  nature,  not  by  the 
experiences  through  which  he  has  piissed.  We  cannot  settle  the 
question  as  to  whether  nature  or  nurture  plays  the  more  important 
part  in  molding  character  by  observing  individuals,  for,  after 
training  a  man  under  one  system,  we  cannot  make  him  young 
again  so  as  to  train  him  under  another.  But  what  we  cannot 
observe  in  the  case  of  individuals  we  can  observe  in  the  case  of 
races,  which,  after  all,  are  only  aggregates  of  individuals.  Races 
are  perpetually  young,  for  each  generation  starts  afresh.  The 
so-called  old  races  are  only  races  whose  history  is  known  for  a 
great  length  of  time. 

Many  races  quite  suddenly  changed  their  mental  environment. 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  S47 

That  is  to  say,  the  new  generations  have  been  differently  trained, 
have  developed  under  different  sets  of  mental  experiences,  as  com- 
pared to  their  ancestors.  If,  under  these  circumstances,  the  race 
has  changed  its  mental  characters,  we  may  be  sure  that  the 
alteration  is  an  acquired,  not  a  germinal,  one;  for  the  latter  can 
occur  only  under  a  very  slow  process  of  evolution  or  degeneration 
extending  over  many  generations.  The  Greeks  are  a  case  in 
point.  x\t  first  they  were  rude  barbarians,  apparently  in  no  way 
distinguished  from  the  surrounding  tribes.  Then  quite  suddenly, 
in  quite  a  few  generations,  they  became  the  most  splendid  race  of 
which  history  holds  record.  Subsequently,  with  equal  sudden- 
ness, they  became  an  exceedingly  wretched  and  degraded  people. 
Obviously,  these  great  mental  differences  were  due  in  the  Greeks 
to  mere  training,  not  to  a  process  of  evolution.  A  remarkable 
thing  about  Greece,  in  its  period  of  greatness,  was  the  vast  num- 
ber of  able  men  that  it  produced.  Among  a  population  hardly 
equal  to  that  of  an  average  English  county  more  really  great  men 
arose  in  a  couple  of  hundred  years  than  all  Europe  produced  in 
fifteen  centuries.  Ancient  Rome  is  another  case  in  point.  It  also 
produced  numbers  of  able  men  in  quite  a  short  time.  Much  the 
same  thing  happened  in  western  Europe  during  the  fourteenth  and 
fifteenth  centuries.  Flocks  of  great  men  arose  in  all  countries  that 
the  Renaissance  touched;  that  is,  in  all  countries  in  which  Greek 
learning  and  Greek  methods  of  thought  were  revived.  The  doc- 
trine of  averages  and  the  theory  of  evolution  forbid  the  belief  that 
these  crowds  of  great  men  were  due  to  sudden  innate,  that  is 
germinal,  changes  in  the  races  that  produced  them.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  they  occurred  in 
greater  numbers  in  some  generations  than  in  others,  because  in 
those  particular  generations  the  youth  were  better  trained  men- 
tally than  in  preceding  and  succeeding  generations.  And  this 
belief  forces  on  us  the  corrollary  that  the  mental  status  of  any 
individual  or  of  any  race  is  not  necessarily  in  accord  with  the 
innate  mental  powers.  It  may  be  due,  and  generally  is  due. 
largely  or  wholly  to  mere  training,  to  mere  education. 

The  truth  is  vividly  illustrated  by  a  study  of  the  mental  effects 
produced  on  their  followers  by  various  religions.    Every  religion 


548  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

influences  its  followers,  not  only  by  its  distinct  doctrines,  but  even 
more  by  the  method  by  which  the  doctrines  are  taught.  Some 
methods  of  religious  training  permit  much  greater  intellectual 
freedom  than  others,  even  when  the  doctrines  are  much  the  same. 
Tl)us  the  Protestant  section  of  the  Christian  religion  imposes 
fewer  restrictions  than  the  Greek  church.  A  little  thought  makes 
it  evident  that  every  race  is  enlightened  and  progressive,  and  pro- 
duces men  of  distinguished  achievement,  precisely  in  proportion  to 
the  intellectual  freedom  permitted  by  the  religion  it  follows. 
Mahomedans,  Buddhists,  and  Hindus  produce  few  great  men. 
Mediaeval  Europe  produced  few.  Modem  Christianity  is  divided 
into  three  great  sections.  For  the  last  century  and  a  half  almost 
every  man  who  has  achieved  world-wide  fame  has  arisen  from 
among  members  of  only  one  of  those  sections,  or  has  been  a  rebel 
against  the  doctrines  and  restrictions  of  the  other  two.  This  sec- 
tion of  Christianity  has  not  a  monopoly  of  innate  genius,  but  it 
has  a  large  monopoly  of  effective  genius. 

All  this  evidence  renders  it  abundantly  plain  that  mental 
power  is  not  a  mere  matter  of  innate  capacity,  but  is  very  largely 
a  matter  of  intellectual  training.  No  doubt,  men  differ  as  much 
in  their  inborn  mental  capacity  as  they  do  in  bodily  powers;  but 
the  former  is  much  more  difficult  to  detect.  You  can  train  a  man 
of  great  innate  capacity  to  have  every  appearance  of  a  fool.  You 
can  so  train  a  man  of  comparatively  mean  caj>acity  that  among 
worse-trained  men  he  has  every  appearance  of  ability.  When, 
therefore,  we  meet  a  distinguished  man,  it  is  unsafe  to  jump  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  is  necessarily  of  great  mental  capacity.  And 
when  we  see  a  distinguished  son  follow  a  distinguished  father,  it 
is  not  entirely  safe  to  conclude  that  great  innate  capacity  has  been 
inherited.  We  must  remember  the  child's  imitative  instincts  and 
the  environment  in  which  he  has  been  reared  —  an  environment  in 
which  his  father,  with  his  own  intellectual  methods  and  his 
energy,  bulked  large.  Statistics  of  distinguished  families  illus- 
trate the  power  of  training  quite  as  much  as  they  do  the  power  of 
heredity. 

Since,  with  rare  exceptions,  variations  of  offspring  from  par- 
ents are  spontaneous,  it  is  obvious  that  we  can  improve  a  race 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  549 

only,  as  breeders  do,  by  restricting  the  output  of  offspring  to  indi- 
viduals who  have  varied  favorably.  But  we  have  seen  how  vast 
are  the  acquirements  of  man.  Therefore  we  can  often  greatly 
improve  the  individual  by  improving  the  conditions  under  which 
he  develops.  We  have  our  choice  then.  Shall  we  improve  the 
innate  qualities  of  our  race  by  eugenic  breeding;  or  shall  we 
improve  the  acquirements  of  the  individuals  of  the  race  by 
improving  their  surroundings ;  or  shall  we  do  both  ?  I  think  all 
people  with  any  sense  of  duty  to  their  fellow-creatures  will  declare 
that,  if  practicable,  we  ought  to  do  both.  We  should  bear  in  mind, 
however,  that,  were  eugenic  breeding  possible,  we  could  improve 
the  race  to  an  unlimited  extent;  whereas  our  power  of  improving 
the  individual  by  placing  him  under  better  conditions  is  strictly 
limited.  We  should  remember,  moreover,  that  an  improved 
environment  tends  ultimately  to  degrade  the  race  by  causing  an 
increased  survival  of  the  unfit.  Our  power  to  benefit  the  indi- 
vidual physically  by  improving  his  acquirements  is  less  than  our 
power  to  benefit  him  mentally.  Most  civilized  people  develop 
under  fairly  good  physical  surroundings.  Only  in  the  slums  of 
great  cities,  as  a  rule,  is  bodily  growth  much  stunted  and  the  indi- 
vidual enfeebled  by  insufficient  nourishment  and  by  bad  hygienic 
conditions.  There  is  every  hope,  besides,  that,  with  the  spread  of 
knowledge  and  the  awakening  of  the  public  conscience,  the  worst 
features  of  slums  will  disappear  in  the  near  future.  If,  then,  we 
wish  to  improve  the  nation  physically,  it  must  be  mainly  by 
selective  breeding.  Since  we  are  a  strong  and  robust  race,  most 
people  will  agree  that  this  is  unnecessary  as  regards  stature, 
strength,  and  stamina.  But,  as  we  have  seen,  certain  types  of  men 
are  unfit  for  existence  under  civilized  conditions  of  life;  for 
example,  people  susceptible  to  consumption  or  to  the  charm  of 
alcohol.  The  experience  of  very  many  centuries  has  proved  that 
it  is  impossible  to  abolish  the  abuse  of  alcohol.  Among  civilized 
peoples  especially,  repressive  measures  —  at  any  rate,  severely 
repressive  measures  —  actually  increase  the  total  amount  of 
drunkenness.  It  will,  I  think,  prove  equally  impossible  to  banish 
the  tubercle  bacillus.  It  is  spread  by  the  mere  act  of  coughing. 
Improved  hygiene  will  result  in  such  a  revival  of  people  suscept- 


550  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ible  to  consumption  that  the  mortality  will  always  tend  to  keep 
pace  with  the  improvements.  In  the  Pacific  islands  a  very  sus- 
ceptible race  dwelling  under  ideal  hygienic  conditions  undergoes 
extinction  when  consumption  is  introduced.  Probably,  therefore, 
our  only  hope  of  permanently  reducing  the  mortality  and  misery 
caused  by  intemperance  and  consumption  lies  in  selective  breeding. 
As  regards  mind  also,  we  have  our  choice  between  selective 
breeding  and  an  improved  environment ;  that  it  to  say,  improved 
mental  training,  improved  education.  No  one  who  contrasts  the 
ancient  Greek  type  of  mind  with  the  modern  Thibetan  type,  and 
realizes  that  the  difference  resulted  mainly  from  mere  education ; 
who  knows  that  the  cannibal  Maoris  in  a  single  generation  have 
acquired  all  the  characteristics  of  a  civilized  race  except  the  power 
to  resist  disease;  who  is  aware  that  during  one  year  a  school  of 
aborigines  produced  better  results  than  any  school  of  white  chil- 
dren in  Australia;  who  thinks  of  what  Japan  has  done  within 
thirty  years ;  and  who  perceives  how  vile  is  the  present  system  of 
education  in  this  country,  especially  the  education  of  the  upper 
classes,  will  doubt  that  it  is  in  our  power  to  affect  an  immense  and 
immediate  improvement  in  mind.  There  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  rival,  and  even  surpass,  the  Greeks.  We  have  their 
example,  a  knowledge  of  their  methods.  We  could  stand  on  their 
shoulders,  and  possess  a  vastly  larger  fund  of  positive  knowledge. 
The  subject  of  education  is  far  too  large  to  enter  on  here,  but  we 
may  note  that,  when  we  compare  Greek  and  modem  methods 
of  instruction,  one  fundamental  difference  becomes  manifest. 
The  Greeks  taught  their  youths  how  to  think;  we  teach  them 
what  to  think.  The  Greeks  devoted  their  main  attention  to 
developing  the  understanding;  we  devote  ours  to  loading  the 
memory.  Whatever  the  Greek  boy  learned  linked  up  with  the 
interests  of  adult  life,  and  Avas  therefore  remembered.  Much 
that  the  English  boy  learns  has  no  bearing  on  the  interests 
of  adult  life,  and  therefore  is  forgotten.  In  brief,  the  Greek 
youths  were  educated  in  a  real  sense;  the  English  youths,  in  a 
sense,  are  merely  crammed.  Dogmatic  education  is,  of  course, 
the  merest  cram,  with  the  added  element  that  care  is  designedly 
taken  to  stiffle  independent  thought.    Classical  education  in  which 


BIOLOGICAL  FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  55 1 

the  language,  but  not  the  methods  of  thought  of  the  ancients,  are 
inculcated  is  also  cram.  But  perhaps  the  least  excusable  form  of 
cramming,  since  it  is  perpetrated  by  men  who  should  know  better, 
is  that  utter  neglect  of  the  reasoning  faculty,  combined  with  an 
enormous  overloading  of  the  memory,  by  means  of  which  the 
thinking  powers  of  scientific  students  are  destroyed. 

So  vast  might  be  the  benefit  to  mind  which  would  quickly 
follow  a  mere  improvement  of  education  that,  until  we  have  done 
all  that  it  is  possible  in  this  direction,  any  attempt  to  exalt  the 
innate  mental  qualities  of  the  race  by  the  slower  process  of 
selective  breeding  would  be  lost  time.  As  we  have  seen,  such  an 
attempt,  owing  to  our  present  lack  of  means  to  distinguish  in 
practice  between  inborn  capacity  and  acquired  ability,  would 
present  peculiar  difficulties.  In  one  particular,  however,  the 
selective  breding  of  mind  is  imperative.  The  number  of  the 
insane  is  very  rapidly  increasing  in  all  civilized  countries.  Vari- 
ous explanations  have  been  offered.  It  is  said  that  the  stress  of 
modern  life  is  the  cause  of  the  increase.  But  there  is  no  evidence 
that  the  stress  is  greater  than  formerly,  except  perhaps  among  that 
small  class  which  is  wealthy  enough  to  devote  itself  to  pleasure. 
The  falling  death-rate  would  seem  to  indicate  the  contrary. 
Moreover,  the  rise  of  insanity  is  as  great  in  remote  country  dis- 
tricts, where  conditions  have  changed  little  —  for  example,  in  the 
west  of  Ireland  —  as  in  towns.  Again,  it  is  said  that  the  rise  is 
due  to  parental  intemperance  and  consumption.  But  consump- 
tion and,  probably,  chronic  alcoholism  are  much  less  than  for- 
merly. Moreover,  this  theory  is  opposed  to  the  doctrine  of  natural 
selection.  Were  it  true,  life  would  be  impossible  on  earth.  Yet 
again,  it  is  thought  that  improved  medical  treatment  has  caused 
insane  people  to  live  longer,  and  so  to  accumulate,  and  that  the 
registration  of  the  insane  is  more  efficient  than  formerly.  No 
doubt  this  theory  contains  a  large  element  of  truth.  But  the  rise 
of  insanity  is  so  great  and  continuous  that  it  is  manifestly  insuffi- 
cient to  explain  the  whole  facts.  We  must  seek  for  an  additional 
factor.  Formerly  the  insane  were  treated  with  the  greatest  bar- 
barity. 


552  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

While  many  wfere  burned  as  witches,  those  who  were  recognized  as  insane 
were  compelled  to  endure  all  the  horrors  of  the  harshest  imprisonment. 
Blows,  bleeding,  and  chains  were  their  usual  treatment,  and  horrible  accounts 
are  given  of  madmen  who  had  spent  decades  bound  in  dark  cells  ....  not 
until  the  eighteenth  century  was  the  condition  of  this  unhappy  class  seriously 
improved.* 

We  may  judge  of  the  former  treatment  of  the  insane  from  Shake- 
speare's words :  "  Love  is  merely  a  madness  I  tell  you,  deserves 
as  well  a  dark  house  and  a  whip  as  madmen  do."^  Until  very 
recently,  then,  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  the  unfortunate 
lunatic  was  placed  under  conditions  which  insured  death  or  per- 
manent insanity.  From  the  moment  his  mental  unsoundness 
declared  itself  he  ceased  to  have  offspring.  The  natural  selection 
of  the  sane,  therefore,  was  very  stringent.  For  some  generations 
past,  however,  lunatics  have  been  treated  with  great  humanity 
and  skill.  Beyond  all  classes  of  the  community,  they  are  now 
watched  over  by  the  state.  Men  of  sound  mind,  but  suffering 
from  bodily  illness,  may  perish  in  the  slums  for  want  of  proper 
nourishment  and  care;  but  the  insane  are  removed  to  special 
sanatoria,  where,  without  expense  to  themselves,  they  receive  food 
and  lodging,  and  are  placed  under  the  care  of  trained  nurses  and 
medical  specialists,  over  whom  in  turn  the  Commissioners  in 
Lunacy  exercise  a  jealous  supervision.  As  a  consequence,  the 
lunatic  frequently  recovers,  and  is  restored  to  his  family  and  to 
the  right  to  have  as  many  children  as  other  people.  Here  is  a  case 
in  point.    A  lady  writes: 

For  years  I  have  been  struggling  to  prevent  idiots  and  lunatics  being  sent 
from  our  county  asylum  to  marry  and  breed  idiots  —  just  as  if  the  thing  were 
desirable.  I  gave  it  up  in  hopeless  despair  about  four  years  ago,  owing  to  the 
following  case:  A  woman  who  is  more  than  half  idiotic  came  to  live  with 
two  sisters  —  one  a  total,  the  other  a  partial,  idiot.  She  married  a  very  dull, 
partially  idiotic  man,  and  had  almost  immediately  to  be  taken  to  the  asylum. 
There  she  gave  birth  to  a  complete  idiot,  and  was  sent  home  a  few  weeks 
afterward,  with  the  result  that  the  same  thing  has  been  repeated  nine  times.* 

The  severity  of  natural  selection  with  regard  to  the  insane  has 
been  greatly  reduced;    and,  as  in  all  similar  cases,  characters 

'  Lecky,  History  of  European  Morals,  Vol.  II,  pp.  86,  87. 

*  As  You  Like  It.    Act  III,  scene  2. 

*  Quoted  by  Dr.  Rentoul. 


BIOLOGICAL  FO  UNDA  TIONS  OF  SOCIOLOG Y  553 

which  selection  formerly  eliminated  are  tending  to  become  more 
common.  The  huge  brain  of  man  is  a  very  complex  and  delicate 
machine.  A  defect  (an  unfavorable  variation)  in  any  of  its  parts 
is  apt  to  throw  the  whole  out  of  gear ;  and,  like  other  variations, 
such  a  defect,  such  a  predisposition  to  insanity,  tends  to  be 
inherited.  Unless,  therefore,  we  find  means  to  check  the  output 
of  children  by  the  mentally  unsound,  the  insane  will  multiply 
until  the  state  is  no  longer  able  to  bear  the  weight  of  their  main- 
tenance. Selective  breeding  in  this  case  is  a  dire  necessity,  and, 
therefore,  a  certainty  in  the  near  future. 

As  I  understand  him,  Mr.  Galton  proposes  to  exalt  our  race 
by  encouraging  the  finest  types  to  have  large  families.  I  venture 
to  suggest,  instead,  that,  for  the  present  at  least,  we  shall  limit 
our  efforts  to  discouraging  the  multiplication  of  the  most  unfor- 
tunate types.  The  latter  proceeding  would  be  more  practicable, 
since,  as  regards  mind  at  least,  the  feeble  tj^ts  are  more  easily 
detected  than  the  best,  and  since  it  is  always  more  easy  to  stop  a 
horse  drinking  than  to  make  him  drink.  But,  as  a  fact,  both 
Mr.  Galton's  suggestion  and  my  own  are  utterly  impracticable  in 
the  present  state  of  public  opinion,  and  even,  if  I  may  say,  of 
public  intelligence.  Before  the  one  proposal  or  the  other  can  be 
thought  of  as  anything  more  than  a  mere  subject  for  academic 
discussion,  we  must  have  a  more  enlightened  public,  a  wider 
diffusion  of  the  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  heredity.  Of  sheer 
necessity,  that  diffusion  of  knowledge  will  come  ere  long.  I  think 
I  know  the  path  it  will  follow.  The  medical  profession  com- 
prises the  largest  and,  if  united,  the  most  powerful  body  of  scien- 
tific men  in  the  world.  At  present  no  systematic  instruction  in 
heredity  is  given  to  its  members.  Presently  that  will  be  changed. 
The  doctor  will  realize  that  other  things  and  more  things  are 
known  about  heredity  than  he  supposes.  He  will  recognize  that 
the  science  is  not  summed  up  by  the  hypothesis  that,  if  a  man  con- 
tracts a  disease  or  is  drunken,  his  offspring  will  tend  to  be  sickly 
or  insane.  He  will  perceive  that  the  facts  of  heredity  are  just  as 
essentially  and  naturally  a  part  of  his  medical  equipment  as  the 
facts  of  physiology  and  anatomy.  At  present  he  is  in  no  way 
distinguished  intellectually  above  his  contemporaries  of  the  same 


554  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

social  stratum.  Man  of  science  though  he  be,  he  and  his  fellows 
contribute  less  to  the  thought  of  the  nation,  and  g^ide  public 
opinion  less,  than  any  other  of  the  great  professions.  But  when 
he  studies  heredity,  he  will  understand  the  development  of  mind 
in  the  individual ;  he  will  separate  the  acquired  from  the  inborn, 
and  will  know  why  certain  systems  of  education  have  depressed 
some  nations,  whereas  other  nations  have  been  exalted  by  differ- 
ent systems ;  and  then  he  will  reform  his  own  education  and  come 
into  his  kingdom.  Indeed,  the  mere  study  of  heredity  will  con- 
stitute the  necessary  reform ;  for,  though  the  additional  facts  with 
which  he  will  have  to  load  his  memory  will  be  few,  yet  the  close, 
accurate,  and  prolonged  course  of  thinking  that  he  will  have  to 
undergo  will  develop  his  intellectual  powers,  and,  lifting  him 
above  the  often  petty  minutiae  of  his  daily  life,  will  bring  him  in 
contact  with  many  great  subjects.  A  trained  expert  now  in  all 
that  is  connected  with  the  development  of  the  body,  he  will 
become  a  trained  expert  in  all  that  is  connected  with  the  develop- 
ment of  mind.  His  will  be  the  most  commanding  voice  in  that 
most  vital  of  all  questions,  the  education  of  the  young.  Under  his 
influence,  mental  training  will  become  scientific,  in  the  sense  that 
it  will  be  conducted  with  a  full  knowledge  of  means  and  ends. 
In  that  day  he  will  perceive  also  that  selective  breeding,  the  only 
possible  remedy  against  dangers  that  loom  great  and  terrible  in 
the  future,  is  really  a  question  of  public  health ;  and  then  men  like 
Mr.  Galton,  who  have  devoted  their  lives  to  a  noble  purpose,  will 
not  speak  to  a  small  and  impotent  circle,  but  to  the  intellectual 
flower  of  the  nation. 


ORGANIZATION  OF  THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL 

SOCIETY 

OFFICIAI,    REPORT 

During  the  summer  of  1905  Professor  C.  W.  A.  Veditz,  of 
the  George  Washington  University,  wrote  to  a  number  of  the 
well-known  sociologists  of  the  United  States  with  a  view  to  se- 
curing an  expression  of  opinion  with  regard  to  the  desirability 
and  feasibility  of  forming  some  sort  of  an  organization  of 
sociologists.  This  correspondence  indicated,  among  those  who 
participated  in  it,  a  unanimous  desire  for  such  an  organization. 
Dr.  Lester  F.  Ward,  of  Washington,  believed  that  there  is  cer- 
tainly need  for  a  national  sociological  association,  inasmuch  as 
the  sociologists  of  the  country  need  to  get  together,  and  no 
existing  association  of  a  scientific  character  enables  them  to  do 
this  to  the  extent  that  is  necessary.  Professor  S.  N.  Patten  was 
of  practically  the  same  opinion.  Professor  S.  M.  Lindsay  and 
Professor  T.  N.  Carver,  while  they  favored  an  organization  of 
sociologists,  were  not  convinced  that  it  ought  to  be  an  entirely 
separate  and  independent  organization;  they  felt  that  it  would 
be  unwise,  perhaps,  to  separate  at  this  time  from  the  Economic 
Association,  with  which  most  sociologists  are  now  connected, 
and  in  which  almost  all  sociologists  are  interested. 

More  detailed  expressions  of  opinion  were  received  from 
Professor  Albion  W.  Small,  of  the  University  of  Chicago,  and 
Professor  E.  A.  Ross,  of  the  University  of  Nebraska.  The 
former  wrote,  in  part,  as  follows : 

The  formation  of  a  sociological  association  has  been  suggested  by  a  num- 
ber of  sociologically  inclined  people  in  this  region,  and  I  should  certainly 
be  glad  to  co-operate  most  heartily  in  any  plan  which  may  seem  feasible. 
The  main  thing  is  a  getting  together  for  free  threshing  out  of  ideas  of 
common  interest.  My  suggestion  is  that  you  take  the  responsibility  of  cor- 
responding with  the  program  committee  of  the  Economic  Association,  and 
suggest  that  the  program  for  the  December  meeting  be  arranged  in  such  a 

555 


556  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

way  that  there  would  be  room  for  the  sociologists  to  get  together  at  a  time 
during  the  session  when  the  economic  papers  would  be  of  a  sort  not 
necessarily  of  interest  to  the  sociologists.  Whether  we  should  throw  logic 
to  the  winds  and  organize  a  section  of  the  Economic  Association,  simply  for 
the  practical  reason  that  most  of  us  are  members  of  that  body,  and  in  gen- 
eral would  prefer  concentration  of  interests  rather  than  division ;  or 
whether  we  should  organize  a  parallel  society  like  the  Historical  or  the 
Political  Science  Association ;  or  whether  we  should  disregard  the  older 
societies  altogether — these  are  questions  of  detail  about  which  I  should  be 
ready  to  acquiesce  in  the  views  of  the  majority.  My  present  opinion  is, 
however,  that  it  would  be  most  advisable  to  make  our  first  step  as  above 
suggested. 

Professor  E.  A.  Ross  wrote  as  follows: 

For  three  or  four  years  I  have  thought  the  time  was  ripe  for  American 

sociologists  to  come  together  and  thresh  out  their  differences I  should 

therefore  heartily  welcome  the  project  for  some  sort  of  national  association, 
and  believe  that  such  an  association  could  do  a  great  deal  to  clarify  our 
minds,  acquaint  us  with  one  another's  opinions,  and  exalt  the  dignity  of 
sociology  in  the  public  eye.  Sociology  has  grown  up  through  one-idea 
thinkers,  each  of  whom  has  worked  his  idea  for  all  that  it  is  worth  clear 
across  the  field.  Now,  however,  there  is  a  get-together  spirit  abroad,  and  a 
continuance  of  the  isolation  of  the  past  cannot  but  prove  a  damage  to  the 
development  of  our  science. 

This  correspondence  resulted,  after  communication  with  the 
officers  of  the  American  Economic  Association,  in  the  following 
circular  letter,  which  was  sent  to  about  three  hundred  persons 
throughout  the  country  supposed  to  be  interested  in  sociology: 

Washington,  D.  C,  December  2,  1905. 
Dear  Sir  : 

You  are  invited  to  attend  a  conference  of  persons  interested  in  sociology 
which  will  be  held  at  Baltimore  during  the  coming  sessions  of  the  American 
Economic  Association  and  of  the  American  Political  Science  Association, 
to  discuss  the  advisability  of  forming  a  national  sociological  association 
designed  to  perform  for  sociologists  services  similar  to  those  rendered  for 
economists  by  the  Economic  As5ociation,  and  for  those  interested  in  politi- 
cal science  by  the  Political  Science  Association. 

Sociologists  have  been  so  largely  accustomed  to  working  along  divergent 
lines,  and  so  frequently  hold  radically  different  views,  that  there  seems  to 
be  peculiar  justification  for  some  sort  of  an  organization  which  shall  bring 
together  at  regular  intervals  those  interested  in  the  same  group  of  problems, 
and  permit  of  that  interchange  of  ideas  and  comparison  of  projects  which  in 


THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL  SOCIETY  SS7 

other  fields  of  knowledge  has  so  frequently  contributed  to  the  advancement 
of  science.  Several  European  nations  already  possess  sociological  associa- 
tions for  this  purpose,  although  nowhere,  perhaps,  is  there  a  greater,  more 
widespread,  or  more  truly  scientific  interest  in  the  science  of  society  than  in 
the  United  States. 

The  proposed  conference  will  take  up  the  following  questions,  among 
others : 

1.  Is  there  need  for  an  organization  of  sociologists? 

2.  Should  it  be  formed  now? 

3.  If  needed  and  formed  now,  what  should  be  its  scope? 

4.  Ought  it  to  be  a  separate,  independent  organization,  or  should  it, 
at  least  for  the  present,  form  a  part  or  division  of  some  existing  association? 

The  first  session  of  the  conference  will  be  held  Wednesday  afternoon, 
December  27,  3:30  p.  m.,  at  the  Johns  Hopkins  University. 

If  you  cannot  attend,  it  is  earnestly  requested  that  you  send  an  expres- 
sion   of    opinion    on    the    above    questions,    together    with    whatever    other 
suggestions  you  may  care  to  make.    All  communications  should  be  addressed 
to  C.  W.  A.  Veditz,  George  Washington  University,  Washington,  D.  C. 
Respectfully  yours, 

Thomas  N.  Carver,  Harvard  University. 

Franklin  H.  Giddings,  Columbia  University. 

Samuel  M.  Lindsay,  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

Simon  N.  Patten,  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

Edward  A.  Ross,  University  of  Nebraska. 

Albion  W.  Small,  University  of  Chicago. 

William  G.  Sumner,  Yale  University. 

Lester  F.  Ward,  Washington,  D.  C. 

C.  W.  A.  Veditz,  George  Washington  University. 

In  accordance  with  this  invitation,  the  first  meeting  of  those 
interested  was  held  in  McCoy  Hall,  at  the  Johns  Hopkins  Univer- 
sity, Wednesday  afternoon.  December  27.  at  3  130  p.  m.  The 
meeting  was  attended  by  some  fifty  persons,  among  whom  were 
a  number  particularly  interested  in  the  practical  aspects  of  sociol- 
ogy. Professor  Davenport,  of  Hamilton  College,  acted  as 
chairman  of  the  meeting. 

Professor  C.  W.  A.  Veditz,  of  the  George  Washington  Uni- 
versity, reported  that  he  had  received  about  forty  replies  to  the 
circular  letter  of  invitation,  and  that  the  great  majority  of  these 
letters  were  from  persons  unable  to  attend  the  meeting.  Among 
the  writers  of  these  replies  there  was  practically  a  unanimity  of 


55^  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Opinion  in  favor  of  the  creation,  and  of  the  immediate  creation, 
of  a  sociological  organization  of  some  sort.  Differences  of  opin- 
ion seemed  to  arise  only  in  connection  with  the  third  and  fourth 
questions  stated  in  the  invitation,  but  even  with  regard  to  these 
there  was  a  considerable  majority  in  favor  of  the  creation  of  a 
separate  and  independent  organization  (which  it  was  felt,  how- 
ever, should  meet  at  the  same  time  and  place  as  the  Economic 
Association),  and  of  providing  that  the  scope  of  the  new  organ- 
ization be  sufficiently  wide  to  include  among  its  members  not 
only  those  interested  in  sociology  from  a  purely  theoretical  and 
academic  point  of  view,  but  also  those  who  are  engaged  in  prac- 
tical sociological  work.  It  was  suggested,  in  a  number  of  the 
replies  received,  that  the  work  of  the  new  organization  should 
be  so  arranged  as  to  avoid  duplicating  the  work  being  undertaken 
by  other  associations  already  in  existence — such  as  the  National 
Prison  Association  and  the  National  Conference  of  Charities  and 
Correction, 

The  trend  of  opinion  among  the  writers  of  these  replies  may 
be  indicated  by  the  following  quotations  from  letters  received : 

Says  Professor  E.  A.  Ross,  of  the  University  of  Nebraska : 

I  think  it  is  high  time  to  organize  a  sociological  group  ....  that  will 
make  provision  for  three  sessions  of  its  own  at  the  time  of  the  meeting  of 
the  Historical,  Economic,  and  Political  Science  Associations.  These  sessions 
should  be  held  at  the  time  that  the  economists  are  busy  with  the  pure  theory 
portions  of  their  program.  As  the  American  Journal  of  Sociology  will  no 
doubt  publish  the  best  part  of  the  proceedings,  I  see  no  reason  for  our  group 

doing  any  publishing In  a  few  years,  when  the  status  of  sociology  is 

more  assured,  it  will  be  time  to  develop  into  a  full-fledged  association. 

Professor  Albion  W.  Small  wrote  as  follows: 

1  count  much  on  this  conference  of  sociologists.  I  have  shifted  my  own 
view-point  somewhat  since  the  idea  was  first  broached.  I  should  now  be  in 
favor  of  a  separate  society,  not  with  a  view  to  a  permanent  split  from  the 
other  societies  engaged  in  the  study  of  the  social  sciences,  but  in  order  to 
stand  up  and  be  counted  more  definitely,  and  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
other  people  more  clearly  than  we  can  while  merely  lost  in  the  old-time 

shuffle I    should    urge   that   the   sociologists   keep   the   machinery   of 

their  society  as  simple  and  inexpensive  as  possible,  so  that  dues  will  not 
be  a  serious  additional  burden  to  anybody;  and  that  we  attempt  to  recognize 


THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL  SOCIETY  559 

in  our  fellowship  and  in  our  program  all  the  different  divisions  of  sociologi- 
cal interest.  That  is,  the  few  general  sociologists  should  not  say  to  the 
social  technologist  of  any  type,  "We  have  no  need  of  thee,"  or  vice  versa. 
The  social  psychologists  should  not  assume  to  be  the  sociologists  par 
excellence,  to  the  disparagement  of  the  Galtonites,  for  instance,  or  any  of 
the  economists  or  historians  who  are  really  trying  to  interpret  any  part  of 
life  by  correlating  it  with  the  whole.  We  should  look  forward,  not  to  a 
suppression  of  division  of  labor  within  the  social  sciences,  but  to  large 
development  of  it,  and  our  emphasis  should  always  be  upon  the  reinforce- 
ment that  all  partial  knowledge  of  society  must  get  from  finding  the  actual 
correlations  of  its  abstraction  with  the  plexus  of  social  processes. 

A  practical  sociologist,  Mr.  Wallace  E.  Miller,  of  the  First 
Social  Settlement  Society  of  Columbus,  Ohio,  expressed  the 
opinion  that 

there  is  a  clearly  defined  need  for  an  organization  of  sociologists  which  will 
bring  together  those  who  are  engaged  in  practical  work.  Such  an  organiza- 
tion would  strengthen  the  work  done  in  sociology  throughout  the  country. 

Another  practical  sociologist.  Miss  Anna  Garlin  Spencer,  of 
the  New  York  School  of  Philanthropy,  expressed 
keen  interest  in  any  effort  to  consolidate  and  make  more  effective  the  labors 
of  those  who  are  trying  to  solve  social  problems  ,and  initiate  social  move- 
ments by  the  light  of  science.  I  am  very  desirous  that  there  shall  be  a 
"clearing-house"  in  the  field  of  sociology,  especially  that  which  has  focused 
into  practical  effort.  I  hope  that  applied  sociology,  or  the  new  scientific 
philanthropy,  will  receive  due  attention  in  the  considerations  of  the  con- 
ference. 

Professor  F.  G.  Young,  of  the  University  of  Oregon,  wrote: 

If  all  the  men  whose  names  are  signed  to  the  note  of  invitation  feel 
the  need  and  disposition  to  get  together  to  co-ordinate  views  and  co-operate 
through  division  of  labor,  your  first  two  inquiries  and  the  first  part  of  the 
third  are  answered  for  all  very  positively  in  the  affirmative.  The  matter  of 
the  scope  of  the  organization  is  not  so  simple.  I  would  suggest  the  advisa- 
bility of  having  three  or  four  quite  definite  lines  of  inquiry  represented  in 
each  program : 

1.  Fundamental  problems  as  to  postulates  and  methods  should  always 
be  given  a  hearing. 

2.  The  significance  in  sociological  theory  of  new  departures  or  tendencies 
in  the  older  sciences  is  a  matter  of  prime  importance,  and  would  lend 
itself  admirably  to  elucidation  before  such  an  association. 

3.  Discussions  bearing  on  the  application  of  the  principles  of  the  science 


560  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

to  large  social  questions  affecting  the  national  welfare,  and  having  particu- 
lar prominence  in  the  social  consciousness,  should  have  consideration ; 
such  matters  as  race-suicide  and  normal  racial  relations  under  a  single 
political  sovereignty  would  at  this  time  receive  notice. 

4.  Co-ordination  of  the  results  from  the  different  American  and 
European  tendencies  in  the  science  would,  I  think,  be  a  matter  worthy  of 
some  attention  from  such  a  body. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  Professor  C.  R.  Henderson,  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Chicago,  that 

an  organization  of  sociologists  is  inevitable,  and  it  is  desirable.  For  the 
present,  however,  I  should  advise  that  a  very  modest  beginning  be  made, 
and  that  the  meetings  be  held  in  connection  with  the  Economic,  the  Histori- 
cal, and  the  Political  Science  Associations. 

Professor  Charles  A.  Ellwood,  of  the  University  of  Missouri, 
wrote : 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  time  has  come  to  form  an  American  sociological 
association.  No  organization  of  national  scope  now  in  existence  gives 
anything  but  the  most  trifling  attention  to  the  problems  which  the  sociologist 
is  trying  to  investigate.  The  American  Economic  Association  has  occa- 
sionally had  on  its  program  papers  dealing  with  sociological  problems ; 
but  if  this  can  satisfy  the  group  of  American  sociologists,  we  shall  but 
proclaim  to  the  world  our  lack  of  interest  in,  and  enthusiasm  for,  the 
science  in  which  we  are  working. 

I  am  in  favor,  therefore,  of  an  independent  sociological  association — 
organized  somewhat  on  the  plan  of  the  American  Political  Science  Associa- 
tion— to  meet  at  the  same  time  and  place  annually  as  the  American 
Economic  Association.  I  am  also  in  favor  of  making  membership  in  this 
association  open  to  all  who  have  any  interest  in  sociological  problems ; 
and  I  believe  that  the  program  of  the  association  should  not  be  dehnitely 
limited  in  any  way,  but  should  be  left  to  be  determined  by  the  program 
or  executive  committee. 

Professor  Frank  W.  Blackmar,  of  the  University  of  Kansas, 
gave  expression  to  the  following  opinion : 

There  certainly  is  a  need  for  an  organization  of  sociologists  at  the 
present  time.  It  would  undoubtedly  advance  the  study  of  sociology  very 
much,  and  would  be  of  special  service  in  bringing  about  a  consensus  of 
opinion  in  regard  to  disputed  points  in  sociological  development.  It  should 
be  formed  now,  because  we  are  ready  for  such  an  organization.  I  think  it 
safe  to  say  that  we  have  never  been  ready  for  such  an  organization  before. 
....  Its    scope    should    be    sociology — general,     pure,  and    applied.      Care 


THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL  SOCIETY  561 

should  be  taken  to  keep  it  from  encroaching  on  the  ground  pre-empted 
by  the  American  Historical  Association,  the  American  Political  Science 
Association,  the  American  Economic  Association,  or  the  American  Anthro- 
pological Society. 

In  my  estimation  it  should  be  a  separate  and  independent  organization, 
To  make  it  a  part  of  one  of  the  associations  named  would  give  it  a 
subordinate  position,  and,  what  is  worse,  would  seem  to  indicate  that 
sociology  is  a  branch  of  either  history,  political  science,  economics,  or 
anthropology.  It  might  be  possible  that  it  should  form  a  division  of  the 
American  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science.  As  a  section  of 
this  association,  it  would  be  placed  close  to  biology  and  psychology,  which 
might  be  of  some  advantage.  However,  it  appears  to  me  that  the  A.  A.  A.  S. 
is  already  far  too  large  and  cumbersome  for  the  best  quality  of  work,  and 
that  more  vital  work  would  be  done  in  a  separate  organization. 

Nearly  all  of  the  letters  received  in  reply  to  the  circular,  of 
which  only  a  few  are  quoted  above,  came  from  persons  who  would 
be  unable  to  attend  the  conference.  The  circular  was  so  worded 
as  to  suggest  a  reply  by  letter  only  as  a  substitute  for  personal 
participation  in  the  conference. 

At  the  conference  it  was  moved,  after  hearing  the  report  of 
Professor  Veditz,  that  a  sociological  association  be  formed,  and 
that  it  be  formed  at  once.  This  motion  prevailed.  Professor 
Giddings,  of  Columbia  University,  pointed  out  that  probably  in 
no  country  in  the  world  is  there  so  much  interest  in  the  problems 
of  sociologfy,  whether  theoretical  or  practical,  as  in  the  United 
States.  Many,  if  not  most,  of  our  colleges  and  universities  offer 
courses  in  sociology.  The  American  literature  of  the  subject  is 
noteworthy  both  with  regard  to  quantity  and  quality,  and  has  re- 
ceived frequent  and  ready  recognition  abroad.  Before  many  of 
those  present  at  the  meeting  had  even  entered  college,  Professor 
Sumner,  of  Yale,  was  giving  courses  in  sociology,  using  Herbert 
Spencer's  Sociology  as  a  textbook.  Yet,  while  France  and  Eng- 
land both  have  successful  sociological  associations  which  publish 
valuable  papers  on  sociological  subjects,  we  have  as  yet,  strange 
to  say,  no  distinctively  scientific  national  organization  of  sociolo- 
gists. 

In  discussing  the  scope  of  the  new  organization  or  group, 
Mr.  Clinton  Rogers  Woodruff,  of  Philadelphia,  raised  the  ques- 
tion whether  those  interested  in  practical  reform  work  would  be 


562  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

allowed  to  become  members.  While  this  question  was  not  spe- 
cifically answered,  the  opinion  appeared  to  prevail  that  so  long 
as  the  predominating  point  of  view  in  the  association  be  scientific, 
practical  sociologists  ought  certainly  not  to  be  excluded  from  its 
membership.  In  fact,  it  would  appear  that  practical  sociological 
workers  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  and  engaged  in 
different  lines  of  activity,  have  quite  as  much  to  gain  from  an 
interchange  of  views  and  of  experiences  as  have  the  purely  theo- 
retical or  academic  sociologists.  Moreover,  one  of  the  best 
results  of  the  new  organization  would  be  achieved  by  bringing 
into  close  and  regular  contact  the  "theoretical"  and  the  "practi- 
cal" sociologists;  each  has  much  to  learn  of  the  other. 

With  regard  to  the  question  whether  the  new  organization 
should  be  separate  and  independent  or  not,  remarks  were  made 
by  Dr.  Lester  F.  Ward,  of  Washington,  D.  C. ;  Professors  David 
C.  Wells,  of  Dartmouth  College;  W.  F.  Willcox,  of  Cornell; 
Franklin  H.  Giddings,  of  Columbia;  David  Kinley,  of  Illinois; 
Thomas  N.  Carver,  of  Harvard;  E.  C.  Hayes,  of  Miami;  C.  W. 
A.  Veditz,  of  George  Washington  University;  and  S.  M.  Lind- 
say, of  Pennsylvania.  In  the  course  of  this  discussion  it  was 
pointed  out  that  if  the  new  organization  were  to  become  a  section 
of  an  already  existing  association,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  answer 
the  question :  Of  zvhat  association  should  it  be  made  a  part  ? 
There  seemed  to  be  almost  equally  good  reasons  for  annexing  it 
to  any  of  several  organizations — such  as  the  Economic  Associa- 
tion, the  Statistical  Association,  the  Social  Science  Association, 
the  Anthropological  Society,  and  the  Association  for  the  Ad- 
vancement of  Science.  It  was  urged  by  some,  moreover,  that  if 
the  new  organization  is  made  part  of  an  existing  organization, 
one  could  become  a  member  only  by  joining  the  parent  organiza- 
tion. Again,  if  the  sociologists  form  merely  a  part,  let  us  say  of 
the  Economic  Association,  that  would  imply  that  sociology  is 
either  subservient  to  economics  or  a  part  of  it.  And  if  the 
sociologists  were  to  a^  for  a  part  in  the  program  of  the 
Economic  Association,  the  part  which  the  economists  would  be 
willing  or  able  to  give  them  would  probably  be  insufficient,  and 
the  practical  result  of  such  an  arrangement  would  be  apt  to 


THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL  SOCIETY  563 

be  a  program  which  would  satisfy  neither  the  sociologists  nor 
the  economists.  Not  only  has  the  sociologist  problems  of  his 
own,  which  seem  to  him  to  merit  as  elaborate  discussion  as  the 
problems  which  interest  the  economist,  but  those  problems  are 
as  numerous  and  as  varied  in  character  as  the  problems  to  which 
the  Economic  Association  now  devotes  its  time  at  each  annual 
meeting.  There  ought,  to  be  sure,  to  be  one  or  more  "joint 
meetings,"  in  which  problems  are  discussed  which  are  germane 
to  both  economics  and  sociology;  and  these  meetings  would 
emphasize  the  close  relationship  which  subsists  between 
economics  and  sociology,  without  implying  that  economics  is 
sociology  or  that  sociology  is  economics. 

The  hope  was  expressed  by  some  of  those  who  spd<e  that 
there  would  ultimately  be  formed  a  federation  of  the  societies 
engaged  in  the  study  of  the  social  sciences — particularly  the 
Economic  Association,  the  Political  Science  Association,  and  the 
new  sociological  association — to  avoid  the  wastes  and  difficul- 
ties and  disadvantages  of  a  multiplication  of  societies  while 
retaining  the  advantages  of  having  distinct  interests.  Such  a 
federation  might  have  but  one  organ,  one  publishing  committee, 
one  president  (with  a  vice-president  for  each  of  the  three  sub- 
divisions), and  a  single  membership  fee  for  all  three  branches. 

At  all  events,  in  the  opinion  of  those  who  spoke  upon  this 
point,  the  meetings  of  the  sociological  association  should  in- 
variably occur  at  the  same  time  and  place  as  those  of  the 
Economic  Association. 

Professor  Lindsay  remarked  that  the  newly  created  Political 
Science  Association  had  carefully  gone  into  the  question 
whether  the  political  scientists  should  form  a  new  association,  or 
join  some  one  already  in  existence,  and  be  content  with  sharing 
in  the  program.  He  asked  whether  anyone  present  was  able  to 
furnish  information  on  the  results  of  this  investigation.  To  this 
question  Dr.  Max  West,  of  the  federal  Bureau  of  Corporations, 
who  participated  in  the  formation  of  the  Political  Science 
Association,  replied  that  the  political  scientists  had  reached  the 
conclusion  that  the  problems  which  interested  them  were  so  dis- 
tinct, so  numerous,  and  so  important  as  to  require  practically  a 


564  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

separate  program  with  separate  meetings,  and  therefore  a  sepa- 
rate organization,  and  that,  should  any  arrangement  looking 
toward  a  combination  with  the  economists  be  found  desirable, 
this  arrangement  had  better  be  made  by  a  completed  independent 
organization,  able  to  deal  with  the  Economic  Association  on  a 
footing  of  equality. 

Professor  Carver,  of  Harvard,  questioned  the  desirability,  for 
the  present  at  least,  of  a  separate  organization.  He  believed  that 
in  many  respects  the  multiplication  of  organizations  is  imdesir- 
able,  and  that  for  a  considerable  period  there  would  be  too  few 
persons  interested  in  sociology  to  warrant  the  creation  of  an 
independent  society.  He  was  willing,  however,  to  accept  the 
decision  of  the  majority  of  those  interested. 

Professor  Kinley,  of  the  University  of  Illinois,  considered  the 
formation  of  a  sociological  association  inevitable,  and  advocated 
"taking  the  bull  by  the  horns  at  once"  and  starting  a  separate 
organization,  even  though  its  beginnings  might  be  modest. 

Professor  Willcox,  of  Cornell,  made  mention  of  the  Ameri- 
can Social  Science  Association  as  an  association  with  which  we 
might  possibly  affiliate  in  some  way.  That  organization  has  a 
long  and  honorable  history,  but,  so  far  as  Professor  Willcox 
knew,  it  was  declining,  if  not  already  defunct.  Perhaps  a  union 
of  the  new  organization  with  this  old  one  might  prove  extremely 
beneficial  and  acceptable  to  both. 

Dr.  Ward's  motion,  that  the  sociologists  form  a  separate  and 
independent  organization,  was  thereupon  put  to  a  vote  and  car- 
ried with  but  two  dissenting  voices. 

Mr.  C.  R.  Woodruff  moved  that  a  committee  of  five  persons 
be  appointed  to  draw  up  a  "scheme  of  government"  for  the  new 
organization,  and  that  this  committee,  appointed  by  the  chair, 
report  at  the  next  meeting,  to  be  held  at  3  130  the  next  day.  This 
motion  was  seconded  and  carried,  and  the  meeting  adjourned. 

Shortly  after  adjournment,  Professor  Davenport  named  the 
following  committee  on  organization :  Professors  Veditz,  Will- 
cox, Wells,  Cooley,  and  Lindsay. 


THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL  SOCIETY  565 

The  second  meeting  of  the  conference  was  held  at  the  time 
appointed,  and  attended  by  the  following  persons,  among  others : 

B.  W.  Arnold,  Jr.,  of  Randolph-Macon  College;  Franklin  H.  Giddings, 
of  Columbia;  George  K.  Holmes,  of  the  United  States  Department  of 
Agriculture;  Lester  F.  Ward,  of  Washington,  D.  C. ;  C.  W.  A.  Veditz,  of 
George  Washington  University;  Charles  Cooley  of  the  University  of 
Michigan;  Henry  M.  Leipziger,  of  the  New  York  Bureau  of  Education; 
Edward  C.  Hayes,  of  Miami  University;  Jiro  Aburtani,  of  Columbia  Uni- 
versity; Carl  Kelsey,  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania;  J.  Elbert  Cutler, 
of  Wellesley;  Alvan  A.  Tenney,  of  Columbia;  A.  V.  Heester,  of  Franklin 
and  Marshall  College;  John  H.  Dynes,  of  the  United  States  Bureau  of 
Corporations;  Simon  N.  Patten,  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania;  Thomas 
N.  Carver,  of  Harvard ;  David  Kinley,  of  the  University  of  Illinois ;  William 
Davenport,  of  Hamilton  College;  William  H.  Allen,  of  New  York;  Miss 
Lucile  Eaves,  of  New  York;  U.  G.  Weatherley,  of  the  University  of  Indiana; 
W.  F.  Willcox,  of  Cornell;  C.  R.  Woodruff,  of  Philadelphia;  George  G. 
Wilson,  of  Brown;  D.  L.  Wing,  of  the  United  States  Bureau  of  Corpora- 
tions; Max  West,  of  the  United  States  Bureau  of  Corporations;  C.  C. 
Morhart,  of  Washington,  D.  C. ;  A.  G.  Keller,  of  Yale ;  Edward  H.  Davis, 
of  Purdue  University;  George  S.  Sumner,  of  Pomona  College;  H.  Wirt 
Steele,  of  Baltimore;  S.  N.  Lindsay,  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania; 
David  C.  Wells,  of  Dartmouth ;  W.  E.  Miller,  of  Columbus,  Ohio ;  J.  Dorsey 
Forrest,  of  Butler  College;  Walter  E.  Weyl,  of  New  York. 

The  chairman  of  the  committee  on  organization,  C.  W.  A. 
Veditz,  reported  the  following  constitution: 

ARTICLE  I — NAME 

This  society  shall  be  known  as  the  American  Sociological  Society. 

ARTICLE  II— Objects 

The  objects  of  this  society  shall  be  the  encouragement  of  sociological 
research  and  discussion,  and  the  promotion  of  intercourse  between  persons 
engaged  in  the  scientific  study  of  society. 

ARTICLE  III — MEMBERSHIP 

Any  person  may  become  a  member  of  this  society  upon  payment  of  Three 
Dollars,  and  may  continue  such  by  paying  thereafter  annually  a  fee  of 
Three  Dollars. 

By  a  single  payment  of  Fifty  Dollars  any  person  may  become  a  life  mem- 
ber of  the  society. 

Each  member  is  entitled  to  a  copy  of  the  current  publications  of  the 
society. 


566  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ARTICLE  IV — OFFICERS 

The  officers  of  this  Society  shall  be  a  President,  two  Vice-Presidents, 
a  Secretary,  a  Treasurer — elected  at  each  annual  meeting — and  an  Executive 
Committee  consisting  of  the  officers  above  mentioned  ex  officio,  together 
with  six  elected  members  whose  terms  of  office  shall  be  three  years ;  except 
that  of  those  chosen  at  the  first  election  two  shall  serve  for  but  one  year  and 
two  for  two  years. 

The  offices  of  Secretary  and  of  Treasurer  may  be  filled  by  the  same 
person. 

ARTICLE  V — ELECTION   OF  OFFICERS 

All  officers  shall  be  elected  only  after  nomination  by  a  special  committee 
of  the  society  appointed  by  the  Executive  Committee;  except  that  the  officers 
for  the  first  year  shall  be  nominated  by  a  committee  of  three,  to  be 
appointed  by  the  chairman  of  the  meeting  at  which  this  constitution  is 
adopted. 

All  officers  shall  be  elected  by  a  majority  vote  of  the  members  of  the 
society  present  at  the  annual  meeting. 

ARTICLE  VI — DUTIES  OF  OFFICERS 

The  President  of  the  society  shall  preside  at  all  meetings  of  the  society 
and  of  the  Executive  Committee,  and  shall  perform  such  other  duties  as 
the  Executive  Committee  may  assign  to  him.  In  his  absence  his  duties  shall 
devolve,  successively,  upon  the  Vice-Presidents  in  the  order  of  their  election, 
upon  the  Secretary,  and  upon  the  Treasurer. 

The  Secretary  shall  keep  the  records  of  the  society,  and  perform  such 
other  duties  as  the  Executive  Committe  may  assign  to  him. 

The  Treasurer  shall  receive  and  have  the  custody  of  the  funds  of  the 
society,  subject  to  the  rules  of  the  Executive  Committee. 

The  Executive  Committee  shall  have  charge  of  the  general  interests  of 
the  society,  shall  call  regular  and  special  meetings  of  the  society,  appropriate 
money,  appoint  committees  and  their  chairmen,  with  suitable  powers,  and  in 
general  possess  the  governing  power  in  the  society,  except  as  otherwise 
specifically  provided  in  this  constitution.  The  Executive  Committee  shall 
have  power  to  fill  vacancies  in  its  membership  occasioned  by  death,  resigfna- 
tion,  or  failure  to  elect,  such  appointees  to  hold  office  until  the  next  annual 
election. 

Five  members  shall  constitute  a  quorum  of  the  Executive  Committee, 
and  a  majority  vote  of  those  members  in  attendance  shall  control  its 
decisions. 

ARTICLE  VII — ^RESOLUTIONS 

All  resolutions  to  which  objection  is  made  shall  be  referred  to  the 
Executive  Committee  for  its  approval  before  submission  to  the  vote  of  the 
society. 


THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL  SOCIETY  S^7 


ARTICX.E  VIII — AMENDMENTS 


Amendments  to  this  constitution  shall  be  proposed  by  the  Executive 
Committee  and  adopted  by  a  majority  vote  of  the  members  present  at  any 
regfular  or  special  meeting  of  the  society. 

After  the  reading  of  this  constitution,  it  was  voted  to  take 
action  upon  each  article  separately.  The  only  articles,  however, 
on  which  there  was  any  discussion  were  Arts.  II  and  VII.  Pro- 
fessor Kelsey  raised  the  question  whether  Art.  II  might  not  be 
interpreted  to  exclude  those  interested  mainly  in  practical  socio- 
logical work.  Miss  Eaves  and  Dr.  Leipziger  wished  that  it  might 
be  made  clear  that  practical  sociologists  could  be  included  in  the 
membership  of  the  society.  Professors  Giddings  and  Wells  were 
of  the  opinion  that  the  original  wording  of  the  article  was  ample 
enough  to  include  everybody  interested  in  sociology,  so  long  as 
their  interest  is  not  exclusively  practical.  The  purposes  of  the 
society  being  mainly  scientific,  the  emphasds  should  be  placed  on 
that  aspect  of  sociology.  But  while  the  society,  as  a  society,  is 
mainly  interested  in  the  scientific  and  critical,  rather  than  the 
popular  or  propagandist,  aspect  of  sociology,  it  does  not  follow- 
that  its  members  must  be  exclusively,  or  even  mainly,  interested 
in  theoretical  sociology.  All  that  is  necessary  is  that  they  be 
interested  in  sociological  discussion  and  research.  Art  II  was 
then  adopted  unanimously. 

Concerning  Art.  VII  the  question  was  raised  whether  it 
might  not  be  well  to  provide  specifically  that  the  society  be  not 
allowed  to  pass  any  resolution  approving  or  disapproving  specific 
sociological  doctrines  or  specific  schemes  for  social  betterment. 
The  ensuing  discussion  of  this  question  indicated  that,  in  the 
belief  of  a  majority  of  those  present,  Art.  VII  was  sufficient  to 
prevent  the  submission  and  consideration  of  undesirable  motions. 
This  article  was  then  passed  unanimously,  and  the  constitution 
likewise  adopted  unanimously  as  a  whole. 

In  accordance  with  its  provisions,  the  chairman,  Professor 
Davenport,  appointed  the  following  Nominating  Committee: 
Professors  Wells,  Kelsey,  and  Cutler:  with  the  request  that  they 
report  as  soon  as  possible. 


568  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Meanwhile  a  motion  was  made  and  carried,  to  the  effect  that 
the  Executive  Committee  be  requested  to  appoint  a  Committee 
on  Membership  as  soon  as  possible,  for  the  purpose  of  making 
known  the  existence  and  objects  of  the  society  and  enrolling 
members. 

In  reply  to  the  question  whether  the  new  organization  would 
issue  any  publications,  and  by  whom  they  would  be  issued,  it  was 
stated  that,  in  the  opinion  of  the  Committee  on  Organization,  it 
was  deemed  advisable  not  to  create  a  Publication  Committee  as 
yet,  but  to  leave  that  matter  to  the  Executive  Committee  in 
accordance  with  the  constitution.  Moreover,  the  matter  of  pub- 
lications depends  largely  on  the  extent  of  funds  available  for  that 
purpose,  and  this  depends  in  turn  on  the  membership  of  the 
organization.  Consequently  this  entire  subj'=^t  was  left  in  abey- 
ance. 

At  this  stage  of  the  meeting  the  Committee  on  nominations 
had  returned  with  the  following  report: 

For  President — Lester  F.  Ward,  of  Washington,  D.  C. 

For  First  Vice-President — Professor  William  G.  Sumner,  of  Yale  Uni- 
versity. 

For  Second  Vice-President — Professor  Franklin  H.  Giddings,  of  Colum- 
bia University. 

For  Secretary  and  Treasurer — Professor  C.  W.  A.  Veditz,  of  the  George 
Washington  University. 

Members  of  the  Executive  Committee — for  three  years :  Professors  E. 
A.  Ross,  of  the  University  of  Nebraska,  and  W.  F.  Willcox,  of  Cornell 
University;  for  two  years:  Professors  Albion  W.  Small,  of  the  University 
of  Chicago,  and  Samuel  M.  Lindsay,  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania; 
for  one  year:  Professors  D.  C.  Wells,  of  Dartmouth  College,  and  William 
Davenport,  of  Hamilton  College. 

Professor  Giddings  moved  the  acceptance  of  that  part  of  this 
report  which  concerned  the  office  of  president.  He  took  occasion 
to  remark  that  nothing  which  he  had  ever  done  g^ve  him  so  keen 
a  sense  of  justice  and  fitness  as  he  enjoyed  in  moving  that  Dr. 
Ward  be  made  the  first  president  of  the  American  Sociological 
Society.  Many  years  ago,  when  even  among  educated  people  the 
name  of  sociolc^  was  not  merely  discredited,  but  almost 
entirely  unknown.  Dr.  Ward  was  already  actively  engaged  in 


THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL  SOCIETY  569 

giving  the  word  an  important  meaning  and  insisting  on  the 
great  role  played  by  reason  in  the  evolution  of  human  society. 
All  sociologists  are  under  a  heavy  debt  of  gratitude  to  him,  and 
their  indebtedness  to  Ward  is  at  least  as  great  as  to  August 
Comte  and  Herbert  Spencer. 

Professor  Giddings'  motion  was  carried  unanimously,  and 
Dr.  Ward  was  at  once  conducted  to  the  chair  by  Professors  Wells 
and  Giddings.  In  taking  charge  of  the  meeting,  Dr.  Ward  ex- 
pressed briefly  his  appreciation  of  the  totally  unexpected  honor 
thus  thrust  upon  him,  and '  declared  himself  proud  of  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  the  first  president  of  the  first  sociological 
society  in  America, 

The  remainder  of  the  report  of  the  Committee  on  Nomina- 
tions was  accepted  unanimously,  and  the  meeting  was  then 
adjourned,  subject  to  the  call  of  the  Executive  Committee,  in 
accordance  with  the  constitution. 


REVIEWS 


The  Color  Line:  A  Brief  in  Behalf  of  the  Unborn.  By  William 
Benjamin  Smith.  New  York:  McClure,  Phillips  &  Co. 
Pp.  XV  +  261. 

This  is  in  many  respects  a  notable  book  on  the  negro  problem. 
Its  author  is  professor  of  mathematics  in  Tulane  University,  New 
Orleans,  and  is  well  known  for  his  interest  along  a  number  of  scien- 
tific lines.  The  book  has  already  had  a  wide  sale,  especially  in  the 
South ;  and  for  this  reason,  as  well  as  because  of  its  scientific  pre- 
tensions, it  demands  the  attention  of  the  sociologist.  Its  publishers 
advertise  it  as  the  first  treatment  of  the  negro  problem  in  America 
"from  the  scientific  point  of  view";  and  the  author  himself  in  his 
"  Foreword  "  speaks  of  it  as  a  "  purely  scientific,  and  ethnological 
inquiry."  It  must  be  said  at  the  outset,  however,  that  the  book  is 
not  a  scientific  inquiry.  It  is  distinctly  controversial  in  its  character : 
and  is,  in  fact,  as  its  sub-title  indicates,  a  brief,  or  rather  a  polemic, 
in  defense  of  the  attitude  of  the  southern  white  towards  the  negro. 
The  author  makes  such  skilful  use,  however,  of  scientific  facts  and 
principles  in  his  argument  that  the  book  has  a  value  far  beyond  that 
which  ordinarily  attaches  to  controversial  works.  The  polemical 
character  of  the  work  —  and,  we  may  add,  of  its  literary  style  — 
should  not  be  permitted  to  obscure  its  value  as  a  contribution  to  the 
study  of  the  negro  problem  in  the  United  States. 

The  first  chapter  adheres  faithfully  to  the  purpose  set  forth  in  the 
title  of  the  book.  It  is  a  plea  for  the  continuance  of  the  social  separa- 
tion of  the  races  in  the  South.  It  is  a  justification,  from  the  social 
and  racial  point  of  view,  of  "  the  color  line,"  as  it  is  maintained  in 
the  South  even  against  exceptional  individuals.  There  is  nothing 
in  this  chapter  which  any  sensible  person,  resident  in  a  southern 
community,  or  even  tolerably  familiar  with  the  conditions  in  our 
southern  states,  could  possibly  object  to.  If  the  book  contained 
simply  this  plea  for  the  maintenance  of  "  the  color  line  "  in  the  South, 
I  personally  could  find  little  to  criticise  in  it. 

But  the  rest  of  the  book  after  the  first  chapter  is  taken  up  mainly 
with  the  larger  problem  of  the  destiny  of  the  negro  race  in  America, 
and,  by  implication,  with  the  problem  of  the  practical  measures  which 

570 


REVIEWS  571 

should  be  adopted  in  dealing  with  the  negro.  The  author  finds,  he 
believes,  good  grounds  for  concluding  that  the  negro  cannot  possibly 
take  on  the  substance  of  the  white  man's  civilization  (pp.  35,  55,  102, 
127)  ;  that  education,  whether  intellectual  or  industrial,  cannot  bene- 
fit him  as  a  race,  but  will  only  aid  in  his  undoing  and  his  demoraliza- 
tion (pp.  159,  165,  171,  259)  ;  and  that,  since  the  negro  is  hopelessly 
inferior,  and  incapable  of  being  lifted  to  even  approximate  equality 
of  efficiency  with  the  white  race,  he  is  destined  through  competition 
with  the  white  to  disappear  from  this  continent  (pp.  180-92,  215, 
248).  Moreover,  this  extinction  of  the  negro  in  the  United  States 
is  no  far-oflF  event,  thousands  of  years  removed,  but  is  within  appre- 
ciable distance,  "  There  are  those  now  living,"  our  author  tells  us, 
"who  will  actually  see  the  Afro- American  moving  rapidly  toward 
extinction"  (p.  248).  In  other  words,  within  a  generation  or  two 
we  may  expect  the  negro  population  of  the  United  States  to  come  to 
a  standstill,  and  then  rapidly  to  decrease  in  actual  numbers. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  point  out  in  detail  the  fallacies  in  the 
argument  which  leads  to  these  sweeping  conclusions,  but  it  is  my 
duty  as  a  reviewer  to  note  the  more  obvious  errors  in  fact  and  theory 
upon  which  the  argument  is  based. 

In  support  of  his  conclusion  as  to  the  early  disappearance  of  the 
negro  element  in  the  population  of  this  country.  Professor  Smith 
cites  as  an  authority  Professor  Willcox,  of  Cornell.  It  is  tnie  that 
some  of  Professor  Willcox'  statements  regarding  negro  vital  sta- 
tistics would  seem  to  lend  support  to  our  author's  view,  especially 
the  one  quoted  at  length  (pp.  180-85).  But  it  is  noteworthy  that 
Professor  Willcox'  most  recent  utterance  on  this  subject  gives  little 
comfort  to  those  who  expect  the  early  disappearance  of  the  negro 
element  in  our  population.  In  an  article  on  "  The  Probable  Increase 
of  the  Negro  Race  in  the  United  States,"  in  the  Quarterly  Journal  of 
Economics,  for  August,  1905,  Professor  Willcox  estimates  the  prob- 
able number  of  persons  of  negro  descent  in  our  population  at  the 
close  of  the  present  century  at  about  25,000,000  —  an  estimate  in 
which  most  experts  in  vital  statistics  would  probably  agree.  Thus, 
so  far  as  statistics  are  concerned,  it  must  be  said  with  emphasis  that 
even  the  cessation  of  the  increase  in  our  negro  population  is  not  yet 
definitely  in  sight.  The  idea  of  the  early  —  or  for  that  matter,  of  the 
remote  —  elimination  of  the  negroid  element  in  our  population  is, 
therefore,  a  mere  speculation. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Professor  Smith's  conclusions  are  based,  not 


572  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

upon  statistical  facts,  but,  as  he  himself  admits,  upon  two  assump- 
tions: first,  the  natural  inferiority  of  the  negro  as  a  race;  and, 
secondly,  the  necessary  degeneracy  of  the  types  produced  by  the 
intermixture  of  white  blood  with  negro  blood  (pp.  29,  72).  As  to 
the  first  assumption,  it  may  be  granted  that  Professor  Smith  has  the 
weight  of  scientific  authority  on  his  side,  especially  in  so  far  as  the 
inferiority  claimed  is  in  respect  to  intellectual  and  moral  qualities. 
But  even  here  it  is  to  be  noted  that  a  large  and  growing  school  of 
anthropologists  and  race-psychologists  finds  the  explanation  of  the 
mental  and  moral  differences  between  races,  not  in  innate  qualities 
or  capacities,  but  in  diflferences  in  their  social  equipment  or  machin- 
ery. 

If,  however.  Professor  Smith  has  the  weight  of  authority  on  his 
side  in  his  first  assumption,  it  is  equally  certain  that  the  weight  of 
authority  is  against  him  in  his  second  assumption.  This  he  seems 
to  be  ignorant  of,  or  else  he  ignores  it.  As  if  half-conscious  of  the 
weakness  of  this  second  premise,  he  avoids  stating  it  in  plain  and 
consistent  terms.  Sometimes  he  speaks  of  "  the  half-way  nature  of 
the  half-breed  " ;  sometimes  of  "  the  degeneracy  induced  by  inter- 
mixture." But  these  are  evidently  entirely  different  propositions. 
No  one  questions  the  former.  By  the  law  of  reversion  to  the  mid- 
parent  type,  we  should  expect  the  half-breeds  to  fluctuate  about  the 
mid-line  between  the  races ;  and  this  is  what  we  actually  find.  From 
the  point  of  view  of  the  superior  race  those  of  mixed  blood  are,  of 
course,  inferior ;  but  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  inferior  race  they 
are  superior.  But  this  is  not  Professor  Smith's  assumption.  His 
assumption  is  that  the  half-breed  is  inferior  to  both  races,  at  least  in 
all  cases  of  crossing  between  races  so  diverse  as  the  negro  and  the 
white.  The  former  assumption,  though  sufficient  for  the  purpose  of 
maintaining  the  wisdom  of  social  separation  between  the  races,  was 
not  sufficient  for  our  author's  larger  purpose,  of  proving  the  unim- 
provability  of  the  negroid  stock  and  the  hopeless  destiny  of  the  negro 
race  in  America;  hence  he  assumes  "the  racial  [i.  e.,  physiological] 
deterioration  of  the  mulatto." 

Now,  if  there  are  any  of  the  larger  questions  of  ethnology  which 
may  be  said  to  have  approached  settlement  during  the  last  dozen 
years,  it  is  this  question  of  the  physiological  effects  of  the  inter- 
mixture of  races ;  and  the  all  but  universal  consensus  among  eth- 
nologists at  present  is  that  no  bad  physiological  effects  follow  the 
intermixture  of  races  even  of  the  most  diverse  type,  provided  that 


REVIEWS  573 

the  crossing  takes  place  under  entirely  normal  circumstances ;  in 
other  words,  all  races  of  mankind  are  perfectly  fertile  among  them- 
selves. Where  bad  physiological  effects  do  follow  the  intermixture 
of  races,  this  is  in  all  cases  due  to  vice  or  other  socially  abnormal  con- 
ditions which  accompany  so  frequently  the  crossing  of  superior  with 
inferior  peoples.  The  evidence  in  support  of  this  conclusion  cannot 
be  presented  here.  Suffice  to  say  that  it  has  been  ably  presented  by 
Boas  and  is  summarized  by  Keane.^  Professor  Smith  cites  Bryce  in 
support  of  his  assumption  that  the  crossing  of  such  dissimilar  races 
as  the  negro  and  the  white  necessarily  results  in  physiological 
deterioration ;  but  Bryce,  though  unprejudiced,  can  hardly  be  con- 
sidered an  authority  on  this  matter.  His  somewhat  ambiguous  state- 
ments are  derived  from  Broca,  whose  monograph  on  Hybridity  in  the 
Genus  Homo  has  long  since  ceased  to  be  authoritative. 

Nor  will  it  do  to  say  that,  since  socially  abnormal  conditions  so 
frequently  accompany  the  crossing  of  the  races  in  the  United  States, 
the  result  is  practically  the  same  as  if  degeneracy  was  the  necessary 
physiological  result.  For  in  the  past,  at  least,  particularly  under  the 
regime  of  slavery,  the  conditions  under  which  crossing  took  place 
were  often  relatively  normal.  Not  all  of  the  white  blood  infused  into 
the  negro  race  has  been  vicious  and  depraved  ;  and  if  heredity  counts 
for  anything,  this  good  white  blood  must  greatly  improve  the  negroid 
stock.  This  is  exactly  what  we  find ;  for  the  leaders  of  the  negro 
race,  its  van  and  its  hope  today,  are  almost  without  exception  of 
mixed  blood.  It  is  idle  to  call  all  these  "  degenerates."  On  the  other 
hand,  we  should  expect,  from  the  way  in  which  the  mixed  class  is 
formed,  that  it  would  contain  a  large  number  of  degenerate  indi- 
viduals, who  make  up  the  bulk  of  the  criminal  and  the  depraved 
among  the  negroes,  and  who  lower  the  average  of  their  class.  But 
this  is  manifestly  one  of  those  many  cases  in  statistics  in  which  the 
average  cannot  be  said  to  represent  the  general  condition  of  the  class. 

Finally,  even  if  we  grant  the  natural  inferiority  of  the  negro  in 
respect  to  intellectual  and  moral  capacities,  it  may  be  noted  that  this 
does  not  make  the  future  of  the  negro  race  in  the  United  States  any- 
where near  as  hopeless  as  Professor  Smith  makes  out.  For  the 
biological  factor  is  not  a  fixed  quantity,  or  utterly  beyond  human 
control,  as  he  assumes.  Even  if  the  negro  is  inferior,  there  are  at 
least  three  influences  at  work  among  the  negroes  of  the  United 
States  slowly  modifying  the  inferiority.     The  first  of  these  is  the 

*  See  Keane,  Ethnology,  pp.  1 51-55- 


574  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

infusion  of  white  blood,  which  was  discussed  above.  Just  as  a  new 
invention  breaks  up  the  old  cake  of  custom  in  the  social  world,  so, 
breeders  tell  us,  the  infusion  of  a  new  strain  of  blood  breaks  up  the 
cake  of  heredity,  induces  variability,  and  gives  plasticity  to  the  stock, 
all  of  which  are  the  very  conditions  of  progress.  The  strain  of  white 
blood  now  in  our  negro  population  is  bound  to  become  widely 
diffused  (is  so  already,  in  fact),  and  is  the  best  ground  for  the  hope 
in  the  plasticity  and  improvability  of  the  race  in  the  future.  A 
second  influence  which  is  at  work  modifying  negro  racial  character 
in  the  United  States  is  natural  selection.  Natural  selection,  biology 
teaches  us,  may  often  work  very  rapidly  in  a  new  environment.  That 
it  is  at  work  very  rapidly  among  the  negroes  of  the  United  States  is 
shown  conclusively  by  their  high  death-rate ;  and  it  is  doubtful  if 
their  high  death-rate  shows  anything  more  than  this.  The  stupid, 
unintelligent  and  vicious  negro  is  being  eliminated  in  competition 
with  the  white.  The  hope  of  the  negro  is  that  this  natural  elimina- 
tion of  inferior  elements  through  competition  will  continue. 
Progress  everywhere  waits  on  death  —  the  death  of  the  inferior  indi- 
vidual—  and  nowhere  more  so  than  in  racial  problems.  A  third 
influence  which  is  modifying  negro  racial  character  is  education. 
For  all  education  which  is  worthy  of  the  name  is,  not  merely  a  train- 
ing of  the  individual,  but  is  a  kind  of  artificial  selection ;  and  this 
Professor  Smith  forgets  when  he  argues  against  the  value  of  educa- 
tion for  the  racial  improvement  of  the  negro.  The  educative  process 
is  primarily  a  selective  process ;  only  it  selects  the  best  instead  of 
merely  eliminating  the  worst.  Working  along  with  the  two  influ- 
ences named  above,  a  rationally  devised  system  of  education  might 
accomplish  much  for  the  improvement  of  the  race. 

Thus  one  can  give  full  weight  to  the  biological  factor  in  the 
race  problem,  and  still  remain  relatively  optimistic  regarding  the 
future  of  the  negro.  Moreover,  beyond  racial  heredity,  however 
much  weight  we  may  give  to  it,  we  all  recognize  the  possibility  of 
training  the  individual,  and  thereby  providing  the  mass  of  the  race 
with  a  social  equipment,  which  through  tradition  and  imitation  shall 
be  passed  from  generation  to  generation,  and  become  finally  an 
acquisition  of  the  race  itself.  Of  this  I  have  said  nothing,  and  shall 
say  nothing,  because  I  have  preferred  to  criticise  Professor  Smith 
upon  his  own  ground,  along  the  line  of  the  argument  which  he 
adopted. 

To  sum  up :    I  would  say  that  the  book  is  all  right  as  a  plea  for 


REVIEWS  575 

the  continuance  of  the  social  separation  between  the  races  in  the 
South,  and  would  recommend  those  to  read  it  who  think  there  is  no 
ground  for  maintaining  a  social  and  moral  quarantine  against  the 
negro  even  where  he  exists  in  large  numbers ;  but  as  an  argument 
for  the  unimprovability  of  the  negro  race,  the  ultimate  futility  of 
negro  education,  and  the  early  or  remote  extincticwi  of  the  negro  ele- 
ment in  our  population,  it  is  weak,  built  upon  fallacious  reasoning, 
and  unsound  scientific  theories. 

Charles  A.  Ellwood. 

University  of  Missouri. 


A  History  of  Political  Theories:  From  Luther  to  Montesquieu. 
By  William  Archibald  Dunning.  New  York:  The 
Macmillan  Co.,  1905.    Pp.  xii4-459. 

Students  of  political  philosophy,  and  that  larger  and  growing 
body  of  students  who  are  now  attracted  by  that  broad  field  of  social 
science  described  by  the  title  of  sociology,  must  have  no  small  interest 
in  so  excellent  a  piece  of  work  in  the  history  of  social  philosophy  as 
that  which  is  the  subject  of  this  review.  The  admirable  series  of 
studies  in  the  history  of  political  theory  begun  by  Professor  Dunning 
in  his  first  volume,  Political  Theories  Ancient  and  Medieval,  which 
appeared  in  1902,  is  now  followed  by  this  second  volume,  which 
brings  the  history  of  political  theories  from  Luther  to  Montesquieu. 

It  has  been  noticed  long  since,  and  perhaps  by  no  one  with  more 
appreciation  than  by  Bosanquet  in  his  Philosophical  Theory  of  the 
State,  that  there  have  been  only  two  productive  periods  in  politica/ 
philosophy:  the  period  of  the  Greek  city-state,  the  period  of  Plato 
and  Aristotle  with  echoes  from  Polybius  and  Cicero ;  and  the  modem 
period  of  awakened  national  self-consciousness.  Luther  marks  an 
important  epoch  of  time,  a  magnificent  panorama  of  events  by  which 
we  conveniently  separate  the  modem  world  from  the  mediaeval. 
Bodin  rather  than  Luther  must  be  taken  as  the  inaugurator  of  the 
second  productive  period  in  political  philosophy,  if  judged  by  the 
place  assigned  to  him  as  the  first  of  the  great  modern  masters  in 
political  theory.  This  second  volume  is  more  compact  than  the  first. 
From  Luther  to  Montesquieu  we  traverse  about  two  centuries,  from 
the  Sophists  to  Machiavelli  approximately  twenty  centuries. 

The  volume  opens  with  a  chapter  on  the  Reformation,  in  which 
the  political  theories  of  the  four  great  Protestants,  Luther,  Melanc- 
thon,  Zwingli,  and  Calvin,  are  noticed,  followed  by  an  examination 


576  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  more  systematic  treatises  which  expound  the  antimonarchic 
doctrines  that  reflect  the  struggle  of  Europe  against  the  oncoming 
absolutism  of  the  new  monarchy  —  the  Vindiciae  contra  Tyrannos, 
the  work  of  George  Buchanan ;  the  Systematic  Politics  of  John 
Althaus  (Johannes  Althusius)  ;  and  the  astute  De  Rege  et  Regis 
Institutionis  of  the  Spanish  Jesuit,  Mariana. 

Bodin,  Grotius,  Hobbes,  Locke,  and  Montesquieu  each  have  the 
distinction  of  a  separate  chapter  devoted  to  their  political  philosophy. 
Between  Bodin  and  Grotius  falls  a  chapter  on  the  Catholic  contro- 
versialists and  jurists ;  among  them,  Bellarmin,  Barclay,  Suarez, 
and  Campanella.  Between  Grotius  and  Hobbes  come  two  studies, 
first  a  survey  of  the  English  political  philosophy  before  the  Furitan 
revolution,  embracing  a  notice  of  the  commentators  on  the  common 
law  like  Glaniel,  Richard  Nigel,  and  Bracton,  lawyers  like  Sir  John 
Fortescue  and  Sir  Edward  Coke,  and  writers  of  the  Tudor  century 
like  Moore  and  Hooker;  and,  second,  the  theories  of  the  Puritan 
Revolution. 

Between  Hobbes  and  Locke  we  are  asked  to  turn  aside  for  a 
study  of  the  development  of  continental  theory  during  the  age  of 
Louis  XIV.  Spinoza,  Pufendorf,  and  Bossuet  receive  commanding 
attention ;  Leibniz  and  Fenelon  are  considered  as  classing  within  the 
minor  currents  of  continental  theory.  In  passing  from  Locke  to 
Montesquieu,  Johann  Christian  Wolflf,  Frederick  the  Great,  Boling- 
broke,  Hume,  and  Vico  are  considered  —  Germans,  Englishmen,  and 
Italian.  This  array  of  names  and  hint  of  historical  episode  give 
some  intimation  of  the  vast  labor  requisite  for  pronouncing  qualified 
judgment  on  such  a  number  of  writers  of  books.  But  this  self- 
imposed  task  has  been  well  performed. 

If  I  were  to  venture  to  name  the  distinguishing  excellence  of  this 
volume,  I  should  say  it  is  the  fine  sense  of  proportion  that  guides  the 
author  in  the  distribution  and  arrangement  of  his  ponderous  material. 
Professor  Dunning  skilfully  accords  the  great  epochs  and  the  great 
names  their  due  place  and  importance,  without  neglecting  to  give  a 
fair  measure  of  recognition  to  minor  currents  and  lesser  lights.  The 
order  of  subjects  is  not  always  chronological  —  it  could  not  well  be 
so ;  but  it  is  always  logical,  and  always  glided  careful  weighing  of 
inner  relations  of  men  and  events.  There  is  enough  reference  to 
contemporary  history  to  guide  the  student  not  too  unfamiliar  with 
the  setting  of  the  great  treatises  in  the  real  world  of  strife  and  con- 
flict.     Occasionally   one   finds   himself   wishing   for   a   change   of 


REVIEWS  577 

emphasis,  or  the  citation  of  omitted  facts ;  as,  for  example,  when  the 

author,  speaking  of  the  poHtical  ideas  of  New  England,  does  perhaps 

not  sufficiently  guard  himself,  leaving  the  impressions  that  the  ideas 

of  Roger  Williams  were  the  sole  political  ideas  of  New  England. 

Professor  Dunning  is  placing  the  English-speaking  world  of 

scholars  under  great  obligations  for  supplying  so  the  great  need  of  a 

reliable  and  readable  treatise  in  English  on  the  history  of  political 

theory.    We  hope  a  third  volume  will  in  time  be  added  to  complete 

this  history,  so  conceived  as  to  embrace  the  story  of  the  new  work 

in  history,  politics,  and  law,  as  well  as  the  widening  of  social  science 

as  marked  by  the  rise  of  sociology. 

I.  A.  Loos. 
University  of  Iowa. 


Colonial  Administration.  (The  Citizens  Library.)  By  Paul  S. 
Reinsch.  New  York :  The  Macmillan  Co.  Pp.  viii  -\-  422. 
The  task  of  colonial  administration  set  before  the  American 
people  in  the  last  few  years  has  turned  public  attention  to  a  con- 
sideration of  the  methods  adopted  by  other  nations  in  handling  this 
delicate  matter.  Among  the  several  volumes  appearing  on  this  sub- 
ject is  one  by  Mr.  Reinsch  which  will  command  attention.  He 
might  have  considered  the  means  employed  by  the  English,  French, 
Dutch,  and  other  nations ;  he  might  have  traced  certain  factors  of 
control  through  the  policy  adopted  by  each  of  these  governments; 
or  he  might  have  considered  each  of  the  most  important  colonies 
along  these  several  lines  of  administration.  Most  wisely  he  chose 
the  latter  method.  It  pre-assumes  that  the  real  success  of  the  colonial 
method  is  to  be  found  in  its  development  in  the  colony  rather  than  in 
its  theoretical  aspects  in  the  mother-country  or  fatherland.  The 
several  lines  along  which  Mr.  Heinsch  examines  the  principal  colonies 
of  the  world  are  education  and  general  social  improvement,  finance, 
currency  and  banking,  communication,  agricultural  and  industrial 
development,  public  lands,  labor,  and  defense.  The  treatment  is 
purely  descriptive.  The  author  has  no  theories  to  exploit,  and  makes 
but  few  criticisms  in  the  condensed  space  at  his  command.  The 
Philippine  revenue  act  of  1904  he  regards  as  the  most  sweeping 
measure  of  taxation  ever  devised.  "  The  government  has  certainly 
been  successful,"  he  says,  "  in  discovering  all  possible  objects  of 
taxation  ;  it  remains  to  be  seen  what  effect  this  measure  will  have  on 


578  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  business  of  the  islands,  which  has  additional  burdens  to  bear  in 
the  form  of  industrial  taxes."  Valuable  bibliographies  are  appended 
to  the  various  chapters. 

Edwin  E.  Sparks. 


The  Liquor  Problem:  A  Summary  of  Investigations  Conducted 
by  the  Committee  of  Fifty,  i8p^-iQ0j.     Prepared  for  the 
Committee  by  John   S.   Billings,   Charles   W.   Eliot, 
Henry  W.  Farnam,  Jacob  L.  Greene  and  Francis  G. 
Peabody.     Boston  and  New  York:     Houghton,  Mifflin  & 
Co.,  1905.    Pp.  182. 
This  investigation  was  confined  almost  exclusively  to  conditions 
in  the  United  States,  and  so  the  lessons  of  European  experience  are 
not  fully  brought  to  attention.    In  the  last  chapter  a  positive  recom- 
mendation   is    made    in    the    description    of    the    Norwegian    or 
"company"  system,  "which  may  be  said  to  contain  the  essence  of 
scientific  modern  liquor  legislation." 

For  educators  the  chapter  by  Dr.  Billings  has  great  interest ; 
for  he  shows  with  the  quiet  confidence  of  an  expert  that  much  of  the 
instruction  given  on  the  physiological  effects  of  alcohol  in  public 
schools  is  misleading  and  false.  It  is  a  pity  that  zealous  and  earnest 
people  will  insist  on  compelling  teachers  to  isolate  a  subject  from  all 
its  natural  connections  and  then  drill  young  children  to  believe  errors. 
When  these  pupils  become  adult,  they  will  discover  the  facts,  and 
must  lose  respect  for  those  who  deceived  them  in  hope  of  serving 
a  good  cause  by  unfair  means.  The  actual  facts,  as  Dr.  Billings 
summarizes  them,  without  any  exaggerations  to  destroy  the  moral 
influence  of  teachers,  are  all  that  is  needed  for  a  temperance  argu- 
ment. 

The  committee,  by  publishing  the  results  of  their  study  in  a  sin- 
gle volume,  will  gain  access  to  a  far  wider  audience,  and  will  thus 
induce  many  more  persons  to  go  more  deeply  into  the  evidence  by 
turning  back  to  the  earlier  special  reports  for  more  prolonged  study. 
No  more  sane,  balanced,  and  convincing  statement  of  the  problem 
has  been  made,  and  the  influence  of  the  investigation  will  widen  and 
deepen  as  men  discover,  through  disappointment  and  defeat,  that 
steady  progress  by  rational  means  is  both  more  rapid  and  more  se- 
cure than  spasmodic  bursts  of  mob  rule.    If  a  great  part  of  the  money 


REVIEWS  579 

and  energy  which  are  wasted  in  misdirected  methods  were  trained 
to  united  and  rational  action,  many  of  the  evils  of  alcohol  could  be 
reduced  far  more  effectively  than  is  true  at  present. 

C.  R.  Henderson. 


Russia  and  Its  Crisis.     By  Paul  Milyoukov.     Chicago:     The 
University  of  Chicago  Press,  1905. 

Mr.  Milyoukov  has  given  us  in  this  book  a  profound,  detailed, 
and  scientific  study  of  the  historical  elements  which  have  made 
Russia  what  she  is  today.  There  is  no  other  book  in  the  English 
language  which  permits  the  reader  to  penetrate  so  far  into  the  mys- 
teries of  that  witch's  kettle  boiling  between  the  Baltic  and  the  Black 
Seas.  If  you  wish  to  know  about  the  development  of  autocracy  and 
its  Satanic  limb,  the  Orthodox  church ;  if  your  interest  is  directed  to 
the  peasant  and  his  economic  and  moral  condition ;  or  if  you  want  to 
inform  yourself  about  the  development  of  socialism  and  political 
parties  in  general — about  these  things  and  a  dozen  other  matters, 
you  will  find  a  treasure  of  material  collected  at  first  hand  and  pre- 
sented with  a  cogency  which  will  convince  the  most  skeptical.  Not 
that  the  author  holds  a  brief  for  any  cause  or  party.  He  is,  of 
course,  a  generous  believer  in  free  popular  activity,  but  his  argument 
is  primarily  historical,  and  his  method  vigorously  scientific.  With- 
out the  use  of  a  vituperative  phrase,  and  with  no  other  help  than  his 
vast  information  and  his  penetrating  power  of  analysis,  he  gradually 
leads  the  reader  to  the  perception  of  the  sham,  the  iniquity,  and  the 
utter  untenableness  of  the  autocratic  system.  The  closeness  of  the 
argument,  delivering  stroke  upon  stroke,  requires  the  most  unremit- 
ting attention,  and  will  weary  the  superficial  student  long  before  the 
end  is  reached.  All  such  are  warned  from  these  premises,  not,  how- 
ever, without  an  expression  of  regret  that  the  author,  who  commands 
a  stout  and  clear  pragmatic  style,  was  not  able  to  lighten  the  labor 
of  the  conscientious  reader  by  an  infusion  of  some  of  the  grace  and 
picturesqueness  in  which  even  the  most  stubborn  historical  material 
abounds.  This  excessive  solidity  is  adequately  explained  when  we 
remember  that  Mr.  Milyoukov  employs,  and  on  the  whole  with  ad- 
mirable effectiveness,  a  tongue  to  which  he  was  not  born. 

Ferdinand  Schwill. 


RECENT  LITERATURE 


BOOKS 


Biermann,  W.  E.  Anarchismus  und 
Kommunismus.  6  Volkshochschulvor- 
trage.     Leipzig:  Deichert.     M.  3, 

Brunhuber,  Rob.  Die  heutige  Sozial- 
demokratie :  eine  krit.  Wertg.  ihrer 
wissenschaftl.  Grundlagen  u.  e.  sozio- 
log.  Untersuch.  ihrer  prakt.  Partei- 
gestaltg.     Jena:  Fischer.     M.  2.50. 

Duclaux,  E.  Igiene  sociale.  Torino. 
Pp.  324.     L.  4. 

Fornari,  P.  Societk  e  socialismo.  Milano. 
L.2S. 

Gefahr,  die  amerikanische,  keine  wirt- 
schaftiiche,  sondern  eine  geistige. 
Altenburg.     M.  0.75. 

George,  Jr.,  Henry.  The  menace  of 
privilege.     Macmillan.     ;Ji.5o  net. 

Grinnell,  W.  M.  Social  theories  and 
social  facts.     Putnam.     $1  net. 

Herkner,  Heinr.  Die  Bedeutung  der 
Arbeitsfreude  in  Theorie  u.  Praxis  der 
Volkswirtschaft.  Vortrag.  Dresden : 
V.  Zahn  &  Jaensch.     Pp.  36.     M,  i. 

Herzfeld,  E*  G.  Family  monographs: 
the  history  of  twenty-four  families 
living  in  the  middle  west  side  of  New 
York  city. 

Mammen.  Warum  muss  sich  auch  der 
Arbeiter  f.  die  Fragen  der  Volkswirt- 
schaft interessieren  ?  Vortrag.  Dres- 
den.    Pp.  12.     M.  0.20. 

Menger,  Ant.  Uber  die  sozialen  Auf- 
gaben  der  Kechtswissenschaft.  In- 
augurationsrede.  Wien:  Braumiiller. 
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Methner,  A,     Organismen  und   Staaten. 

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Gaultier,  P.  La  morality  de  Part  Rev. 
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580 


RECENT  LITERATURE 


581 


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NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS 


Social  Work :  A  New  Profession. —  The  educated  man,  in  deciding  on 
life's  work,  wishes  two  things :  to  fill  the  place  fitted  to  his  talents,  and  to  touch 
and  affect  the  vital  things  in  the  life  of  his  own  times.  Consider  first  the  demand 
of  one's  times  made  upon  him.  The  patriots  of  the  revolutionary  period  were 
patriots  because  they  grasped,  with  the  moral  imagination,  the  immediate  and 
prospective  bearings  of  the  facts  and  conditions  which  confronted  them.  How 
can  one  be  sure  of  touching  the  realities  of  one's  own  day?  Not  by  education 
nor  by  philosophizing,  but  by  actual  contact  with  people  and  conditions. 

The  new  profession  —  social  work  —  has  its  quality  in  understanding  and 
affecting  by  direct  contact  all  men,  in  politics,  industry,  and  culture.  To  do  this 
two  social  forces  must  be  understood  and  grappled  with,  viz.,  democracy  and 
cosmopolitanism.  This  cannot  be  done  by  studying  the  past  alone.  The  democ- 
racy of  the  future  will  be,  not  merely  a  scheme  of  government,  but  an  ethical 
system  touching  all  life,  intending  to  bring  all  classes  together.  Cosmopolitanism 
is  presented  in  our  many  immigrants  and  the  problems  of  bringing  them  together, 
giving  them  an  education  and  an  economic  basis.  Thus  the  social  worker  will 
unite  the  now  scattered  industrial,  racial,  and  religious  elements. 

Social  work  is  in  results  and  intentions  unofficial  statesmanship.  It  may 
mean  personal  sacrifice,  but  it  is  the  same  kind  of  devotion  in  times  of  peace 
shown  by  our  forefathers  in  times  of  war.  This  work  offers  a  career  of  service 
at  the  points  where  public  need  is  greatest ;  it  opens  the  way  in  some  cases  to 
public  career  and  public  office.  Social  work  in  its  wide  scope  includes  the  exten- 
sion of  the  older  professions  to  meet  new  needs  ;  e.  g.,  the  doctor,  lawyer,  clergy- 
man, musician,  etc. 

This  work  offers  peculiar  opportunities  for  woman,  where  her  co-operation 
with  man  is  based  on  a  really  sound  type  of  equality  between  the  sexes.  The 
social  worker  is  not  a  builder,  but  uses  existing  institutions  where  he  can, 
creating  only  when  adequate  means  do  not  exist  to  embody  his  ideas  ;  does  not 
dream  of  Utopias,  but  takes  the  next  immediate  step  for  improvement. 

The  great  variety  of  work  offers  problems  for  any  talent  discovering  a  person's 
special  aptitudes.  It  places  him  in  contact  with  the  practical  scholars  of  his 
community,  thus  furnishing  fellowship  and  inspiration.  A  living  must  be  con- 
sidered by  a  person  thinking  of  giving  himself  to  this  work.  Social  work  in 
this  country  is  not  so  well  paid  as  in  England,  yet  on  an  average  it  offers  a  living 
equal  to  the  clerical  and  educational  professions.  It  also  offers  a  good  temporary 
employment  as  preparatory  to  other  professions,  e.  g.,  the  law.  This  work  had  its 
origin  in  the  university,  and  it  calls  for  fulfilling  the  university  ideal  —  a  life  of 
service. —  Robert  A.  Woods,  in  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  October,  1905. 

S.  E.  W.  B. 

Recent  Tendencies  in  German  Social  Democracy. —  The  convention  of 
the  Social  Democratic  party  in  Germany  was  recently  held  in  Jena.  Discussion 
before  and  at  the  meeting  indicates  a  climax  reached  in  the  party  development  in 
Germany. 

Never  has  a  convention  been  held  when  the  times  were  so  violently  revolu- 
tionary. The  events  of  1870-71  are  insignificant  compared  with  the  Russian 
revolution.  This  is  a  revolution  of  the  proletariat,  not  of  a  single  city,  but  of  a 
whole  nation. 

The  Russian  revolution  is  the  conclusion  of  the  era  of  bourgeois  revolutions 
in  Europe,  and  also  the  beginning  of  the  era  of  proletarian  revolutions  on  which 
we  are  now  entering.  The  period  means  unstable  relations  or  war,  famine,  the 
overthrow  of  the  present  legal  order  of  landlords  and  usurers,  violent  resistance 
of  the  proletariat.     Every  moment  is  pregnant  with  the  unexpected. 

The  report  of  the  convention  shows  an  increased  strength  at  every  point. 
Institutions  for  instruction  of  the  membership  of  the  party  have  been   founded, 

582 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  583 

e.  g.,  in  Dtisseldorf.  It  is  impossible  to  give  exact  figures  on  membership,  but 
large  increases  are  reported  from  every  locality.  The  party  press  shows  every- 
where increased  circulation.  The  Vorwarts  shows  a  profit  of  over  $20,000  the  last 
year ;  Der  Wahre  Jacob,  nearly  $5,000  ;  D»>  Neue  Zeit,  a  deficit  of  $1,000.  The 
total  income  of  the  party  was  over  $180,000.  The  number  of  agitation  leaflets  and 
books  runs  high  in  the  millions. 

Meanwhile  the  party  is  engaged  in  internal  discussions  —  more  important  than 
any  since  the  days  of  the  laws  of  exception.  The  whole  form  of  the  organization 
is  tending  toward  centralization.  These  discussions  take  various  forms,  one  being 
an  attack  on  the  editorial  management  of  the  Vorwartz  by  the  Leipziger  Volks- 
zeitung  and  Neue  Zeit.  The  paper  has  been  taking  the  attitude  of  indifference  to 
party  differences,  holding  that  it  could  see  no  quarrels,  e.  g.,  denying  the  divisions 
between  the  Revisionists  and  the  Marxists.  It  was  indifferent  toward  the  general 
strike  and  the  Russian  revolution.  The  long-smothered  discussions  have  broken 
out  with  great  intensity,  the  Vorwartz  being  at  the  center  of  the  storm. 

The  following  brief  statement  shows  the  struggle.  The  Vorwartz  is  not  today 
the  same  as  in  the  days  following  the  socialist  laws  of  exception.  In  those  days 
it  sought  to  grasp  the  difference  between  economics  and  politics ;  then  to  set  it 
forth  and  explain  it  to  its  readers.  Today  the  ethical-aesthetic  attitude  pre- 
dominates in  Vorwartz.  It  seeks  to  produce  strong  moral  and  aesthetic  effects  in 
order  to  arouse  the  disgust  of  its  readers  against  the  immorality  and  hideousness 
of  the  existing  order.  Its  former  attitude  was  "  scientific  socialism ;  "  its  present 
attitude  is  "  sentimental  socialism." 

It  is  impossible  to  give  reports  of  the  work  of  the;  congress,  only  Associated 
Press  dispatches  being  available.  These  report  three  topics  of  the  convention: 
the  question  of  celebrating  May  i  ;  reorganization  of  the  party ;  the  "  political 
mass  strike."  The  discussions  reflected  the  strained  relations  now  existing  in 
Germany.  The  kingdom  of  Saxony,  together  with  several  Hanse  cities,  among 
them  Hamburg,  has  taken  steps  for  the  restriction  of  popular  suffrage.  On  account 
of  this,  the  party  decided  that,  if  anything  definite  was  done  in  this  direction,  the 
mass  strike  would  be  declared.  This  action  is  significant  because  the  general 
strike  has  been  disdained  by  the  German  socialists.  It  suggests  what  we  may  see 
in  the  United  States.  The  recent  action  of  the  capitalist  class  in  Colorado  in 
resorting  to  violent  and  illegal  means  shows  what  they  will  do  in  sharp  conflict. 
It  behooves  the  Socialist  party  to  prepare  itself  for  these  attacks. —  A.  M.  Simons, 
in  International  Socialist  Review,  October,  1905. 

S.  E.  W.  B. 

Welfare  Institutions  of  the  Royal  Transportation  Lines  of  Wurttemberg. 
—  The  report  for  the  year  1903-4  contains  noteworthy  items  concerning  the 
welfare  work  of  the  state  railways  of  Wurttemberg.  State  pensions  to  the  amount 
of  362,070  marks  were  paid.  This  amount  is  comparatively  small,  because  the 
great  majority  of  the  operating  force  belongs  to  an  association  which  insures  them. 

There  are  some  changes  in  the  arrangements  for  accident  insurance.  This 
service  now  includes  all  who  are  injured  while  on  duty.  The  payments  to  the 
injured  are  increased,  in  severe  cases,  to  equal  the  wages  of  the  injured.  The 
payments  to  orphans  are  increased. 

The  life-insurance  association  of  employees  is  incorporated,  and  is  increasing 
in  members  and  in  income. 

The  565  dwellings  erected  for  employees  and  their  families  are  paying 
between  2  and  3  per  cent. 

The  Savings  and  Loan  Association  of  Transportation  Employees  receives 
deposits,  invests  carefully,  shares  profits,  and  loans  amounts  up  to  500  marks. 
Members  are  required  to  deposit  a  minimum  of  100  marks. 

There  is  dentistry  service  for  railway  employees,  and  it  is  being  extended. 
Since  January,  1904,  there  has  been  a  dentist-in-chief  ( Oberbahnarzt )  located  in 
Stuttgart. 

For  men  employed  on  the  railways,  other  than  regular  employees  (Beamten), 
there  are  special  arrangements  for  insurance  paid  in  cases  of  illness.     From  3  to 


584  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

3  5-7  per  cent,  is  collected  from  the  day-wages.  The  payments  in  cases  of  illness 
range  from  50  to  66?^  per  cent,  of  the  wages.  In  cases  of  death,  thirty-fold  to 
forty-fold  wages  are  paid.  In  cases  of  illness  the  payments  are  continued  for 
from  thirteen  to  fifty-two  weeks. 

The  general  invalid  and  old-age  state  pension  of  Wiirttemberg  insures  the 
railway  employees. 

Men  who  have  been  transportation  employees  for  twenty-five  years  con- 
secutively, and  have  rendered  good  service,  receive  50  marks.  In  1903-4  fifty-six 
men  received  this  special  payment. 

Men  employed  for  three  years  consecutively  have  the  right  to  three  days  off, 
in  the  year,  with  full  pay.  Those  who  have  seen  ten  years'  service  have  five 
days  off. — "  Wohlfahrtseinrichtungen  der  koniglich  wiirttembergischen  Verkehrs- 
anstalten,"  Archiv  fiir  Eisenbahnwesen,  September-October,  1905.  H,  W. 

Workingmen's  Insurance  and  Industrial  Solidarity. —  The  cause  of  work- 
ingmen's  insurance  is  receiving  more  favorable  attention  with  each  passing  year, 
and  its  obligation  upon  the  consumer  of  labor  is  being  more  fully  recognized ;  for 
it  will  introduce  a  larger  reciprocity  of  interests,  a  greater  solidarity,  into 
industry. 

Sismondi,  a  hundred  years  ago,  declared  that  the  laborer  has  a  right  to  the 
protection  of  his  employer ;  that  there  exists  a  natural  solidarity  between  them  — 
a  bond  which  ought  to  assure  the  laborer  and  his  family  of  the  necessaries  of  life ; 
yet  in  his  day  the  employer  had  but  little  regard  for  the  health  and  safety  of  his 
employees  ;  when  they  were  old  or  disabled,  he  cast  them  upon  the  state,  as  public 
charges. 

One  of  the  greatest  evils  resulting  from  this  irresponsibility,  and  the  effect  of 
which  falls  for  the  most  part  upon  the  laborer,  is  the  "  fever  of  incoherent  pro- 
duction," subject  to  immediate  demands  for  the  product.  The  laborer  is  over- 
worked for  a  time,  and  then  thrown  entirely  out  of  work.  The  primary  object  of 
an  insurance  law  is  more  than  compensation  for  —  it  is  prevention  of  —  the  risk 
against  which  one  is  insured. 

The  real  call  for  obligatory  workingmen's  insurance  does  not  come  from  the 
protestations  of  a  public  conscience  against  legislation  which  permits  cast-off 
laborers  to  be  thrown  on  public  or  private  charge,  but  from  the  affirmation  that 
the  salary  paid  ought  not  only  to  sustain  life,  but  to  include  also;  necessary  pro- 
vision against  risks  which  menace  the  life  and  capacity  of  the  laborer.  With 
Sismondi,  "  every  enterprise  in  the  service  of  which  accidents  are  liable  ought  to 
support  the  consequences  of  accident." 

"  Professional  responsibility  "  is  no  longer  an  exceptional,  but  an  ordinary, 
term.  It  expresses  a  duty  which  the  most  careful  employers  of  labor  admit  to  be 
due  to  their  workmen.  The  schedule  of  indemnities  in  the  law  of  1898,  a  law 
"  forfaitaire  et  transactionnelle,"  leaves  much  to  be  desired  along  this  line  in 
France,  and  has  prevented  proper  action.  England  and  Belgium  have  shown  that 
such  insurance  laws  are  possible. 

The  great  problem  in  such  insurance  is  whether  the  workman  shall  be  com- 
pelled to  contribute  to  the  fund,  and,  if  so,  to  what  extent.  This  must  depend  on 
his  income,  and  on  the  number  of  persons  dependent  on  him  for  support.  Any 
plan  of  procedure  must  be  more  than  a  legal  agreement,  if  it  is  to  contribute  to 
industrial  solidarity.  It  must  have  a  moral  basis,  and  a  spirit  and  vitality  which 
recognize  the  rights  of  both  classes.  Such  an  arrangement  has  been,  in  Germany, 
the  means  of  creating  a  really  social  spirit  and  a  rapid  development  in  systems  of 
production. 

A  proposed  law  in  France  would  have  local  mutual  societies  and  a  larger  cen- 
tral company.  The  former  would  care  for  all  cases  of  need  lasting  less  than 
thirty  days,  and  would  be  administered  by  a  committee  consisting  of  three  laborers 
and  three  employers,  and  a  president  elected  by  the  six.  The  central  company 
would  take  charge  of  cases  of  more  than  thirty  days  and  of  rents.  It  would  be 
administered  by  employers  alone. —  Raoul  Jay,  "  L'assurance  ouvriere  et  la 
solidarity   dans   I'industrie,"   Revue  politique  et  parlementaire,   September,    1905. 

D.  E.  T. 


THE  AMERICAN 

JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


Volume  XI  MARCH,     I906  Numbers 


THE  PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 


THORSTEIN    VEBLEN 
The  University  of  Chicago 


It  is  commonly  held  that  modern  Christendom  is  superior  to 
any  and  all  other  systems  of  civilized  life.  Other  ages  and  other 
cultural  regions  are  by  contrast  spoken  of  as  lower,  or  more  ar- 
chaic, or  less  mature.  The  claim  is  that  the  modern  culture  is 
superior  on  the  whole,  not  that  it  is  the  best  or  highest  in  all  re- 
spects and  at  every  point.  It  has,  in  fact,  not  an  all-around  superi- 
ority, but  a  superiority  within  a  closely  limited  range  of  intellec- 
tual activities,  while  outside  this  range  many  other  civilizations 
surpass  that  of  the  modern  occidental  peoples.  But  the  peculiar 
excellence  of  the  modem  culture  is  of  such  a  nature  as  to  give  it 
a  decisive  practical  advantage  over  all  other  cultural  schemes 
that  have  gone  before  or  that  have  come  into  competition  with  it. 
It  has  proved  itself  fit  to  survive  in  a  struggle  for  existence  as 
against  those  civilizations  which  differ  from  it  in  respect  of  its 
distinctive  traits. 

Modern  civilization  is  peculiarly  matter-of-fact.  It  contains 
many  elements  that  are  not  of  this  character,  but  these  other 
elements  do  not  belong  exclusively  or  characteristically  to  it. 
The  modern  civilized  peoples  are  in  a  peculiar  degree  capable  of 
an  impersonal,  dispassionate  insight  into  the  material  facts  with 
which  mankind  has  to  deal.  The  apex  of  cultural  growth  is  at 
this  point.    Compared  with  this  trait  the  rest  of  what  is  com- 

58s 


586  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

prised  in  the  cultural  scheme  is  adventitious,  or  at  the  best  it  is 
a  by-product  of  this  hard-headed  apprehension  of  facts.  This 
quality  may  be  a  matter  of  habit  or  of  racial  endowment,  or  it 
may  be  an  outcome  of  both ;  but  whatever  be  the  explanation  of 
its  prevalence,  the  immediate  consequence  is  much  the  same  for 
the  growth  of  civilization.  A  civilization  which  is  dominated 
by  this  matter-of-fact  insight  must  prevail  against  any  cultural 
scheme  that  lacks  this  element.  This  characteristic  of  western 
civilization  comes  to  a  head  in  modern  science,  and  it  finds  its 
highest  material  expression  in  the  technology  of  the  machine 
industry.  In  these  things  modern  culture  is  creative  and 
self-sufficient ;  and  these  being  given,  the  rest  of  what  may  seem 
characteristic  in  western  civilization  follows  by  easy  consequence. 
The  cultural  structure  clusters  about  this  body  of  matter-of-fact 
knowledge  as  its  substantial  core.  Whatever  is  not  consonant 
with  these  opaque  creations  of  science  is  an  intrusive  feature  in 
the  modern  scheme,  borrowed  or  standing  over  from  the  bar- 
barian past. 

Other  ages  and  other  peoples  excel  in  other  things  and  are 
known  by  other  virtues.  In  creative  art,  as  well  as  in  critical 
taste,  the  faltering  talent  of  Christendom  can  at  the  best  follow 
the  lead  of  the  ancient  Greeks  and  the  Japanese.  In  deft  work- 
manship the  handicraftsmen  of  the  middle  Orient,  as  well  as  of 
the  Far  East,  stand  on  a  level  securely  above  the  highest  Euro- 
pean achievement,  old  or  new.  In  myth-making,  folklore,  and 
occult  symbolism  many  of  the  lower  barbarians  have  achieved 
things  beyond  what  the  latter-day  priests  and  poets  know  how  to 
propose.  In  metaphysical  insight  and  dialectical  versatility  many 
orientals,  as  well  as  the  Schoolmen  of  the  Middle  Ages,  easily 
surpass  the  highest  reaches  of  the  New  Thought  and  the  Higher 
Criticism.  In  a  shrewd  sense  of  the  religious  verities,  as  well 
as  in  an  unsparing  faith  in  devout  observances,  the  people  of 
India  or  Thibet,  or  even  the  mediaeval  Christians,  are  past-mas- 
ters in  comparison  even  with  the  select  of  the  faith  of  modern 
times.  In  political  finesse,  as  well  as  in  unreasoning,  brute  loy- 
alty, more  than  one  of  the  ancient  peoples  give  evidence  of  ,a 
capacity  to  which  no  modern  civilized  nation  may  aspire.     In 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  587 

warlike  malevolence  and  abandon,  the  hosts  of  Islam,  the  Sioux 
Indian,  and  the  "heathen  of  the  northern  sea"  have  set  the  mark 
above  the  reach  of  the  most  strenuous  civilized  warlord. 

To  modern  civilized  men,  especially  in  their  intervals  of  sober 
reflection,  all  these  things  that  distinguish  the  barbarian  civili- 
zations seem  of  dubious  value  and  are  required  to  show  cause  why 
they  should  not  be  slighted.  It  is  not  so  with  the  knowledge  of 
facts.  The  making  of  states  and  dynasties,  the  founding  of 
families,  the  prosecution  of  feuds,  the  propagation  of  creeds  and 
the  creation  of  sects,  the  accumulation  of  fortunes,  the  consump- 
tion of  superfluities — these  have  all  in  their  time  been  felt  to 
justify  themselves  as  an  end  of  endeavor;  but  in  the  eyes  of  mo- 
dern civilized  men  all  these  things  seem  futile  in  comparison  with 
the  achievements  of  science.  They  dwindle  in  men's  esteem  as 
time  passes,  while  the  achievements  of  science  are  held  higher  as 
time  passes.  This  is  the  one  secure  holding-ground  of  latter- 
day  conviction,  that  "the  increase  and  diffusion  of  knowledge 
among  men"  is  indefeasibly  right  and  good.  When  seen  in  such 
perspective  as  will  clear  it  of  the  trivial  perplexities  of  workday 
life,  this  proposition  is  not  questioned  within  the  horizon  of  the 
western  culture,  and  no  other  cultural  ideal  holds  a  similar  un- 
questioned place  in  the  convictions  of  civilized  mankind. 

On  any  large  question  which  is  to  be  disposed  of  for  good  and 
all  the  final  appeal  is  by  common  consent  taken  to  the  scientist. 
The  solution  offered  in  the  name  of  science  is  decisive  so  long  as 
it  is  not  set  aside  by  a  still  more  searching  scientific  inquiry. 
This  state  of  things  may  not  be  altogether  fortunate,  but  such  is 
the  fact.  There  are  other,  older  grounds  of  finality  that  may  con- 
ceivably be  better,  nobler,  worthier,  more  profound,  more  beauti- 
ful. It  might  conceivably  be  preferable,  as  a  matter  of  cultural 
ideals,  to  leave  the  last  word  with  the  lawyer,  the  duelist,  the 
priest,  the  moralist,  or  the  college  of  heraldry.  In  past  times 
people  have  been  content  to  leave  their  weightiest  questions  to 
the  decision  of  some  one  or  other  of  these  tribunals,  and,  it  cannot 
be  denied,  with  very  happy  results  in  those  respects  that  were 
then  looked  to  with  the  greatest  solicitude.  But  whatever  the 
common-sense  of   earlier   generations   may   have   held   in   this 


588  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

respect,  modem  common-sense  holds  that  the  scientist's  answer 
is  the  only  ultimately  true  one.  In  the  last  resort  enlightened 
common-sense  sticks  by  the  opaque  truth  and  refuses  to  go 
behind  the  returns  given  by  the  tangible  facts. 

Quasi  lignum  vitae  in  paradiso  Dei,  et  quasi  lucerna  fulgoris 
in  domo  Domini,  such  is  the  place  of  science  in  modern  civiliza- 
tion. This  latter-day  faith  in  matter-of-fact  knowledge  may  be 
well  grounded  or  it  may  not.  It  has  come  about  that  men  assign 
it  this  high  place,  perhaps  idolatrously,  perhaps  to  the  detriment 
of  the  best  and  most  intimate  interests  of  the  race.  There  is 
room  for  much  more  than  a  vague  doubt  that  this  cult  of  science 
is  not  altogether  a  wholesome  growth — that  the  unmitigated 
quest  of  knowledge,  of  this  matter-of-fact  kind,  makes  for  race- 
deterioration  and  discomfort  on  the  whole,  both  in  its  immediate 
effects  upon  the  spiritual  life  of  mankind,  and  in  the  material 
consequences  that  follow  from  a  great  advance  in  matter-of-fact 
knowledge. 

But  we  are  not  here  concerned  with  the  merits  of  the  case. 
The  question  here  is :  How  has  this  cult  of  science  arisen  ?  What 
are  its  cultural  antecedents?  How  far  is  it  in  consonance  with 
hereditary  human  nature?  and.  What  is  the  nature  of  its  hold 
on  the  convictions  of  civilized  men  ? 

In  dealing  with  pedagogical  problems  and  the  theory  of  edu- 
cation, current  psychology  is  nearly  at  one  in  saying  that  all 
learning  is  of  a  "pragmatic"  character;  that  knowledge  is  in- 
choate action  inchoately  directed  to  an  end;  that  all  knowledge 
is  "functional ;"  that  it  is  of  the  nature  of  use.  This,  of  course, 
is  only  a  corollary  under  the  main  postulate  of  the  latter-day  psy- 
chologists, whose  catchword  is  that  The  Idea  is  essentially  active. 
There  is  no  need  of  quarreling  with  this  "pragmatic"  school  of 
psychologists.  Their  aphorism  may  not  contain  the  whole  truth, 
perhaps,  but  at  least  it  goes  nearer  to  the  heart  of  the  epistemo- 
logical  problem  than  any  earlier  formulation.  It  may  confidently 
be  said  to  do  so  because,  for  one  thing,  its  argument  meets  the 
requirements  of  modern  science.  It  is  such  a  concept  as  matter- 
of-fact  science  can  make  effective  use  of;  it  is  drawn  in  terms 


I 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  589 

which  are,  in  the  last  analysis,  of  an  impersonal,  not  to  say  trop- 
ismatic,  character;  such  as  is  demanded  by  science,  with  its  in- 
sistence on  opaque  cause  and  effect.  While  knowledge  is  con- 
strued in  teleological  terms,  in  terms  of  personal  interest  and  at- 
tention, this  teleological  aptitude  is  itself  reducible  to  a  product 
of  unteleological  natural  selection.  The  teleological  bent  of  in- 
telligence is  a  hereditary  trait  settled  upon  the  race  by  the  selec- 
tive action  of  forces  that  look  to  no  end.  The  foundations  of 
pragmatic  intelligence  are  not  pragmatic,  nor  even  personal  or 
sensible. 

This  impersonal  character  of  intelligence  is,  of  course,  most 
evident  on  the  lower  levels  of  life.  If  we  follow  Mr.  Loeb,  e.  g., 
in  his  inquiries  into  the  psychology  of  that  life  that  lies  below 
the  threshold  of  intelligence,  what  we  meet  with  is  an  aimless  but 
unwavering  motor  response  to  stimulus.^  The  response  is  of  the 
nature  of  motor  impulse,  and  in  so  far  it  is  "pragmatic,"  if 
that  term  may  fairly  be  applied  to  so  rudimentary  a  phase  of 
sensibility.  The  responding  organism  may  be  called  an  "agent" 
in  so  far.  It  is  only  by  a  figure  of  speech  that  these  terms  are 
made  to  apply  to  tropismatic  reactions.  Higher  in  the  scale  of 
sensibility  and  nervous  complication  instincts  work  to  a  some- 
what similar  outcome.  On  the  human  plane,  intelligence  (the 
selective  effect  of  inhibitive  complication)  may  throw  the  re- 
sponse into  the  form  of  a  reasoned  line  of  conduct  looking  to  an 
outcome  that  shall  be  expedient  for  the  agent.  This  is  naive 
pragmatism  of  the  developed  kind.  There  is  no  longer  a  ques- 
tion but  that  the  responding  organism  is  an  "agent,"  and  that 
his  intelligent  response  to  stimulus  is  of  a  teleological  character. 
But  that  is  not  all.  The  inhibitive  nervous  complication  may 
also  detach  another  chain  of  response  to  the  given  stimulus,  which 
does  not  spend  itself  in  a  line  of  motor  conduct  and  does  not 
fall  into  a  system  of  uses.  Pragmatically  speaking,  this  out- 
lying chain  of  response  is  unintended  and  irrelevant.  Except  in 
urgent  cases,  such  an  idle  response  seems  commonly  to  be  present 
as  a  subsidiary  phenomenon.     If  credence  is  given  to  the  view 

*  Jacques  Loeb,  Heliotropismus  der  Thiere  and  Comparative  Psychology  and 
Physiology  of  the  Brain. 


590  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

that  intelligence  is,  in  its  elements,  of  the  nature  of  an  inhibitive 
selection,  it  seems  necessary  to  assume  some  such  chain  of  idle 
and  irrelevant  response  to  account  for  the  further  course  of  the 
elements  eliminated  in  giving  the  motor  response  the  character 
of  a  reasoned  line  of  conduct.  So  that  associated  with  the  prag- 
matic attention  there  is  found  more  or  less  of  an  irrelevant  atten- 
tion, or  idle  curiosity.  This  is  more  particularly  the  case  where 
a  higher  range  of  intelligence  is  present.  This  idle  curiosity  is, 
perhaps,  closely  related  to  the  aptitude  for  play,  observed  both 
in  man  and  in  the  lower  animals.^  The  aptitude  for  play,  as  well 
as  the  functioning  of  idle  curiosity,  seems  peculiarly  lively  in  the 
young,  whose  aptitude  for  sustained  pragmatism  is  at  the  same 
time  relatively  vague  and  unreliable. 

This  idle  curiosity  formulates  its  response  to  stimulus,  not  in 
terms  of  an  expedient  line  of  conduct,  nor  even  necessarily  in  a 
chain  of  motor  activity,  but  in  terms  of  the  sequence  of  activities 
going  on  in  the  observed  phenomena.  The  "interpretation"  of 
the  facts  under  the  guidance  of  this  idle  curiosity  may  take  the 
form  of  anthropomorphic  or  animistic  explanations  of  the  "con- 
duct" of  the  objects  observed.  The  interpretation  of  the  facts 
takes  a  dramatic  form.  The  facts  are  conceived  in  an  animistic 
way,  and  a  pragmatic  animus  is  imputed  to  them.  Their  be- 
havior is  construed  as  a  reasoned  procedure  on  their  part  looking 
to  the  advantage  of  these  animistically  conceived  objects,  or 
looking  to  the  achievement  of  some  end  which  these  objects  are 
conceived  to  have  at  heart  for  reasons  of  their  own. 

Among  the  savage  and  lower  barbarian  peoples  there  is  com- 
monly current  a  large  body  of  knowledge  organized  in  this  way 
into  myths  and  legends,  which  need  have  no  pragmatic  value  for 
the  learner  of  them  and  no  intended  bearing  on  his  conduct  of 
practical  affairs.  They  may  come  to  have  a  practical  value  im- 
puted to  them  as  a  ground  of  superstitious  observances,  but  they 
may  also  not.*    All  students  of  the  lower  cultures  are  aware  of 

*  Cf.  Gross,  Spiele  der  Thiere,  chap.  2  (esp.  pp.  65-76),  and  chap,  5  ;  The 
Play  of  Man,  Part  III,  sec.  3  ;  Spencer,  Principles  of  Psychology,  sees.  533-35. 

*The  myths  and  legendary  lore  of  the  Eskimo,  the  Pueblo  Indians,  and 
some  tribes  of  the  northwest  coast  afford  good  instance*  of  such  idle  creations. 
Cf.  various  Reports  of  the  Bureau  of  American  Ethnology ;  also,  e.  g.,  Tylor, 
Primitive  Culture,  esp.  the  chapters  on  "Mythology"  and  "Animism." 


1 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  591 

the  dramatic  character  of  the  myths  current  among  these  peoples, 
and  they  are  also  aware  that,  particularly  among  the  peaceable 
communities,  the  great  body  of  mythical  lore  is  of  an  idle  kind, 
as  having  very  little  intended  bearing  on  the  practical  conduct 
of  those  who  believe  in  these  myth-dramas.  The  myths  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  workday  knowledge  of  uses,  materials,  appli- 
ances, and  expedients  on  the  other  hand,  may  be  nearly  independ- 
ent of  one  another.  Such  is  the  case  in  an  especial  degree  among 
those  peoples  who  are  prevailingly  of  a  peaceable  habit  of  life, 
among  whom  the  myths  have  not  in  any  great  measure  been 
canonized  into  precedents  of  divine  malevolence. 

The  lower  barbarian's  knowledge  of  the  phenomena  of  nature, 
in  so  far  as  they  are  made  the  subject  of  deliberate  speculation 
and  are  organized  into  a  consistent  body,  is  of  the  nature  of  life- 
histories.  This  body  of  knowledge  is  in  the  main  organized 
under  the  guidance  of  an  idle  curiosity.  In  so  far  as  it  is  sys- 
tematized under  the  canons  of  curiosity  rather  than  of  expediency, 
the  test  of  truth  applied  throughout  this  body  of  barbarian  knowl- 
edge is  the  test  of  dramatic  consistency.  In  addition  to  their 
dramatic  cosmology  and  folk  legends,  it  is  needless  to  say,  these 
peoples  have  also  a  considerable  body  of  worldly  wisdom  in  a 
more  or  less  systematic  form.  In  this  the  test  of  validity  is  use- 
fulness.* 

The  pragmatic  knowledge  of  the  early  days  differs  scarcely  at 
all  in  character  from  that  of  the  maturest  phases  of  culture.  Its 
highest  achievements  in  the  direction  of  systematic  formulation 
consist  of  didactic  exhortations  to  thrift,  prudence,  equanimity, 
and  shrewd  management — a  body  of  maxims  of  expedient  con- 

*  "Pragmatic"  is  here  used  in  a  more  restricted  sense  than  the  distinctively 
pragmatic  school  of  modern  psychologists  would  commonly  assign  the  term. 
"Pragmatic,"  "teleological,"  and  the  like  terms  have  been  extended  to  cover 
imputation  of  purpose  as  well  as  conversion  to  use.  It  is  not  intended  to 
criticise  this  ambiguous  use  of  terms,  nor  to  correct  it ;  but  the  terms  are  here 
used  only  in  the  latter  sense,  which  alone  belongs  to  them  by  force  of  early 
usage  and  etymology.  "Pragmatic"  knowledge,  therefore,  is  such  as  is  designed 
to  serve  an  expedient  end  for  the  knower,  and  is  here  contrasted  with  the 
imputation  of  expedient  conduct  to  the  facts  observed.  The  reason  for  pre- 
serving this  distinction  is  simply  the  present  need  of  a  simple  term  by  whick 
to  mark  the  distinction  between  worldly  wisdom   and   idle  learning. 


k 


592  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

duct.  In  this  field  there  is  scarcely  a  degree  of  advance  from 
Confucius  to  Samuel  Smiles.  Under  the  guidance  of  the  idle 
curiosity,  on  the  other  hand,  there  has  been  a  continued  advance 
toward  a  more  and  more  comprehensive  system  of  knowledge. 
With  the  advance  in  intelligence  and  experience  there  come  closer 
observation  and  more  detailed  analysis  of  facts."*  The  dramati- 
zation of  the  sequence  of  phenomena  may  then  fall  into  some- 
what less  personal,  less  anthropomorphic  formulations  of  the 
processes  observed;  but  at  no  stage  of  its  growth — at  least  at 
no  stage  hitherto  reached — does  the  output  of  this  work  of  the 
idle  curiosity  lose  its  dramatic  character.  Comprehensive  gen- 
eralizations are  made  and  cosmologies  are  built  up,  but  always  in 
dramatic  form.  General  principles  of  explanation  are  settled 
on,  which  in  the  earlier  days  of  theoretical  speculation  seem  in- 
variably to  run  back  to  the  broad  vital  principle  of  generation. 
Procreation,  birth,  growth,  and  decay  constitute  the  cycle  of 
piostulates  within  which  the  dramatized  processes  of  natural  phe- 
nomena run  their  course.  Creation  is  procreation  in  these  ar- 
chaic theoretical  systems,  and  causation  is  gestation  and  birth. 
The  archaic  cosmological  schemes  of  Greece,  India,  Japan,  China, 
Polynesia,  and  America,  all  run  to  the  same  general  effect  on 
this  head,® 

Throughout  this  biological  speculation  there  is  present,  ob- 
scurely in  the  background,  the  tacit  recognition  of  a  material 
causation,  such  as  conditions  the  vulgar  operations  of  workday 
life  from  hour  to  hour.  But  this  causal  relation  between  vulgar 
work  and  product  is  vaguely  taken  for  granted  and  not  made  a 
principle  for  comprehensive  generalizations.  It  is  overlooked  as 
a  trivial  matter  of  course.  The  higher  generalizations  take  their 
color  from  the  broader  features  of  the  current  scheme  of  life. 
The  habits  of  thought  that  rule  in  the  working-out  of  a  system 
of  knowledge  are  such  as  are  fostered  by  the  more  impressive 
affairs  of  life,  by  the  institutional  structure  under  which  the 
community  lives.  So  long  as  the  ruling  institutions  are  those 
of  blood-relationship,  descent,  and  clannish  discrimination,  so 
long  the  canons  of  knowledge  are  of  the  same  complexion. 

•  Cf.  Ward,  Pure  Sociology,  esp.  pp.  437-48. 

•  Cf.,  e.  g.,  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  chap.  8. 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  593 

When  presently  a  transformation  is  made  in  the  scheme  of 
culture  from  peaceable  life  with  sporadic  predation  to  a  settled 
scheme  of  predaceous  life,  involving  mastery  and  servitude,  gra- 
dations of  privilege  and  honor,  coercion  and  personal  depend- 
ence, then  the  scheme  of  knowledge  undergoes  an  analogous 
change.  The  predaceous,  or  higher  barbarian,  culture  is,  for  the 
present  purpose,  peculiar  in  that  it  is  ruled  by  an  accentuated 
pragmatism.  The  institutions  of  this  cultural  phase  are  conven- 
tionalized relations  of  force  and  fraud.  The  questions  of  life  are 
questions  of  expedient  conduct  as  carried  on  under  the  current 
relations  of  mastery  and  subservience.  The  habitual  distinctions 
are  distinctions  of  personal  force,  advantage,  precedence,  and 
authority.  A  shrewd  adaptation  to  this  system  of  graded  dignity 
and  servitude  becomes  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  and  men  learn 
to  think  in  these  terms  as  ultimate  and  definitive.  The  system 
of  knowledge,  even  in  so  far  as  its  motives  are  of  a  dispassionate 
or  idle  kind,  falls  into  the  like  terms,  because  such  are  the  habits 
of  thought  and  the  standards  of  discrimination  enforced  by  daily 
life."^ 

The  theoretical  work  of  such  a  cultural  era,  as,  for  instance, 
the  Middle  Ages,  still  takes  the  general  shape  of  dramatization, 
but  the  postulates  of  the  dramaturgic  theories  and  the  tests  of 
theoretic  validity  are  no  longer  the  same  as  before  the  scheme 
of  graded  servitude  came  to  occupy  the  field.  The  canons 
which  guide  the  work  of  the  idle  curiosity  are  no  longer  those  of 
generation,  blood-relationship,  and  homely  life,  but  rather  those 
of  graded  dignity,  authenticity,  and  dependence.  The  higher 
generalizations  take  on  a  new  complexion,  it  may  be  without 
formally  discarding  the  older  articles  of  belief.  The  cosmologies 
of  these  higher  barbarians  are  cast  in  terms  of  a  feudalistic  hier- 
archy of  agents  and  elements,  and  the  causal  nexus  between  phe- 
nomena is  conceived  animistically  after  the  manner  of  sympa- 
thetic magic.  The  laws  that  are  sought  to  be  discovered  in  the 
natural  universe  are  sought  in  terms  of  authoritative  enactment. 
The  relation  in  which  the  deity,  or  deities,  are  conceived  to  stand 
to  facts  is  no  longer  the  relation  of  progenitor,  so  much  as  that 

^  Cf.  James,  Psychology,  chap.  9,  esp.  sec.  5. 


594  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  suzerainty.  Natural  laws  are  corollaries  under  the  arbitrary 
rules  of  status  imposed  on  the  natural  universe  by  an  all-powerful 
Providence  with  a  view  to  the  maintenance  of  his  own  prestige. 
The  science  that  grows  in  such  a  spiritual  environment  is  of  the 
class  represented  by  alchemy  and  astrology,  in  which  the  imputed 
degree  of  nobility  and  prepotency  of  the  objects  and  the  symbolic 
force  of  their  names  are  looked  to  for  an  explanation  of  what 
takes  place. 

The  theoretical  output  of  the  Schoolmen  has  necessarily  an 
accentuated  pragmatic  complexion,  since  the  whole  cultural 
scheme  under  which  they  lived  and  worked  was  of  a  strenuously 
pragmatic  character.  The  current  concepts  of  things  were  then 
drawn  in  terms  of  expediency,  personal  force,  exploit,  prescrip- 
tive authority,  and  the  like,  and  this  range  of  concepts  was  by 
force  of  habit  employed  in  the  correlation  of  facts  for  purposes 
of  knowledge  even  where  no  immediate  practical  use  of  the  knowl- 
edge so  gained  was  had  in  view.  At  the  same  time  a  very  large 
proportion  of  the  scholastic  researches  and  speculations  aimed 
directly  at  rules  of  expedient  conduct,  whether  it  took  the  form  of 
a  philosophy  of  life  under  temporal  law  and  custom,  or  of  a 
scheme  of  salvation  under  the  decrees  of  an  autocratic  Provi- 
dence. A  naive  apprehension  of  the  dictum  that  all  knowledge  is 
pragmatic  would  find  more  satisfactory  corroboration  in  the  in- 
tellectual output  of  scholasticism  than  in  any  system  of  knowl- 
edge of  an  older  or  a  later  date. 

With  the  advent  of  modem  times  a  change  comes  over  the 
nature  of  the  inquiries  and  formulations  worked  out  under  the 
guidance  of  the  idle  curiosity — which  from  this  epoch  is  often 
spoken  of  as  the  scientific  spirit.  The  change  in  question  is  closely 
correlated  with  an  analogous  change  in  institutions  and  habits  of 
life,  particularly  with  the  changes  which  the  modern  era  brings 
in  industry  and  in  the  economic  organization  of  society.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  the  characteristic  intellectual  interests  and 
teachings  of  the  new  era  can  properly  be  spoken  of  as  less  "prag- 
matic," as  that  term  is  sometimes  understood,  than  those  of  the 
scholastic  times ;  but  they  are  of  another  kind,  being  conditioned 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  595 

by  a  different  cultural  and  industrial  situation.*  In  the  life  of  the 
new  era  conceptions  of  authentic  rank  and  differential  dignity 
have  grown  weaker  in  practical  affairs,  and  notions  of  preferen- 
tial reality  and  authentic  tradition  similarly  count  for  less  in  the 
new  science.  The  forces  at  work  in  the  external  world  are  con- 
ceived in  a  less  animistic  manner,  although  anthropomorphism 
still  prevails,  at  least  to  the  degree  required  in  order  to  give  a 
dramatic  interpretation  of  the  sequence  of  phenomena. 

The  changes  in  the  cultural  situation  which  seem  to  have  had 
the  most  serious  consequences  for  the  methods  and  animus  of 
scientific  inquiry  are  those  changes  that  took  place  in  the  field 
of  industry.  Industry  in  early  modern  times  is  a  fact  of  relatively 
greater  preponderance,  more  of  a  tone-giving  factor,  than  it  was 
under  the  regime  of  feudal  status.  It  is  the  characteristic  trait 
of  the  modern  culture,  very  much  as  exploit  and  fealty  were  the 
characteristic  cultural  traits  of  the  earlier  times.  This  early- 
modem  industry  is,  in  an  obvious  and  convincing  degree,  a  matter 
of  workmanship.  The  same  has  not  been  true  in  the  same  de- 
gree either  before  or  since.  The  workman,  more  or  less  skilled 
and  with  more  or  less  specialized  efficiency,  was  the  central  figure 
in  the  cultural  situation  of  the  time ;  and  so  the  concepts  of  the 
scientists  came  to  be  drawn  in  the  image  of  the  workman.  The 
dramatizations  of  the  seqence  of  external  phenomena  worked  out 
under  the  impulse  of  the  idle  curiosity  were  then  conceived  in 
terms  of  workmanship.  Workmanship  gradually  supplanted 
differential  dignity  as  the  authoritative  canon  of  scientific  truth, 
even  on  the  higher  levels  of  speculation  and  research.  This,  of 
course,  amounts  to  saying  in  other  words  that  the  law  of  cause 
and  effect  was  given  the  first  place,  as  contrasted  with  dialectical 
consistency  and  authentic  tradition.  But  this  early-modern  law 
of  cause  and  effect — the  law  of  efficient  causes — is  of  an  anthro- 
pomorphic kind.    "Like  causes  produce  like  effects,"  in  much  the 

*  As  currently  employed,  the  term  "pragmatic"  is  made  to  cover  both 
conduct  looking  to  the  agent's  preferential  advantage,  expedient  conduct,  and 
workmanship  directed  to  the  production  of  things  that  may  or  may  not  be  of 
advantage  to  the  agent.  If  the  term  be  taken  in  the  latter  meaning,  the  culture 
of  modern  times  is  no  less  "pragmatic"  than  that  of  the  Middle  Ages.  It  is 
here  intended  to  be  used  in  the  former  sense. 


596  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

same  sense  as  the  skilled  workman's  product  is  like  the  workman ; 
"nothing  is  found  in  the  effect  that  was  not  contained  in  the 
cause,"  in  much  the  same  manner. 

These  dicta  are,  of  course,  older  than  modern  science,  but  it 
is  only  in  the  early  days  of  modern  science  that  they  come  to  rule 
the  field  with  an  unquestioned  sway  and  to  push  the  higher 
grounds  of  dialectical  validity  to  one  side.  They  invade  even  the 
highest  and  most  recondite  fields  of  speculation,  so  that  at  the 
approach  to  the  transition  from  the  early-modem  to  the  late- 
modem  period,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  they  determine  the  out- 
come even  in  the  counsels  of  the  theologians.  The  deity,  from 
having  been  in  mediaeval  times  primarily  a  suzerain  concerned 
with  the  maintenance  of  his  own  prestige,  becomes  primarily  a 
creator  engaged  in  the  workmanlike  occupation  of  making  things 
useful  for  man.  His  relation  to  man  and  the  natural  universe 
is  no  longer  primarily  that  of  a  progenitor,  as  it  is  in  the  lower 
barbarian  culture,  but  rather  that  of  a  talented  mechanic.  The 
"natural  laws"  which  the  scientists  of  that  era  make  so  much  of 
are  no  longer  decrees  of  a  preternatural  legislative  authority,  but 
rather  details  of  the  workshop  specifications  handed  down  by  the 
master-craftsman  for  the  guidance  of  handicraftsmen  working 
out  his  designs.  In  the  eighteenth-century  science  these  natural 
laws  are  laws  specifying  the  sequence  of  cause  and  effect,  and  will 
bear  characterization  as  a  dramatic  interpretation  of  the  activity 
of  the  causes  at  work,  and  these  causes  are  conceived  in  a  quasi- 
personal  manner.  In  later  modem  times  the  formulations  of 
causal  sequence  grow  more  impersonal  and  more  objective,  more 
matter-of-fact;  but  the  imputation  of  activity  to  the  observed 
objects  never  ceases,  and  even  in  the  latest  and  maturest  formula- 
tions of  scientific  research  the  dramatic  tone  is  not  wholly  lost. 
The  causes  at  work  are  conceived  in  a  highly  impersonal  way,  but 
hitherto  no  science  (except  ostensibly  mathematics)  has  been  con- 
tent to  do  its  theoretical  work  in  terms  of  inert  magnitude  alone. 
Activity  continues  to  be  imputed  to  the  phenomena  with  which 
science  deals ;  and  activity  is,  of  course,  not  a  fact  of  observation, 
but  is  imputed  to  the  phenomena  by  the  observer.®    This  is,  also 

*  Epistemologically  speaking,  activity  is  imputed  to  phenomena  for  the  ptir- 
pose  of  organizing  them  into  a  dramatically  consistent  system. 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  597 

of  course,  denied  by  those  who  insist  on  a  purely  mathematical 
formulation  of  scientific  theories,  but  the  denial  is  maintained  only 
at  the  cost  of  consistency.  Those  eminent  authorities  who  speak 
for  a  colorless  mathematical  formulation  invariably  and  neces- 
sarily fall  back  on  the  (essentially  metaphysical)  preconception 
of  causation  as  soon  as  they  go  into  the  actual  work  of  scientific 
inquiry.*** 

Since  the  machine  technology  has  made  great  advances,  dur- 
ing the  nineteenth  century,  and  has  become  a  cultural  force  of 
wide-reaching  consequence,  the  formulations  of  science  have 
made  another  move  in  the  direction  of  impersonal  matter-of-fact. 
The  machine  process  has  displaced  the  workman  as  the  archetype 
in  whose  image  causation  is  conceived  by  the  scientific  investiga- 
tors. The  dramatic  interpretation  of  natural  phenomena  has 
thereby  become  less  anthropomorphic ;  it  no  longer  constructs  the 
life-history  of  a  cause  working  to  produce  a  given  effect — after 
the  manner  of  a  skilled  workman  producing  a  piece  of  wrought 
goods — but  it  constructs  the  life-history  of  a  process  in  which  the 
distinction  between  cause  and  effect  need  scarcely  be  observed  in 
an  itemized  and  specific  way,  but  in  which  the  run  of  causation 
unfolds  itself  in  an  unbroken  sequence  of  cumulative  change. 
By  contrast  with  the  pragmatic  formulations  of  worldly  wisdom 
these  latter-day  theories  of  the  scientists  appear  highly  opaque, 
impersonal,  and  matter-of-fact;  but  taken  by  themselves  they 
must  be  admitted  still  to  show  the  constraint  of  the  dramatic 
prepossessions  that  once  guided  the  savage  myth-makers. 

In  so  far  as  touches  the  aims  and  the  animus  of  scientific  in- 
quiry, as  seen  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  scientist,  it  is  a  wholly 
fortuitous  and  insubstantial  coincidence  that  much  of  the  knowl- 
edge gained  under  machine-made  canons  of  research  can  be 
turned  to  practical  account.  Much  of  this  knowledge  is  useful, 
or  may  be  made  so,  by  applying  it  to  the  control  of  the  processes 
in  which  natural  forces  are  engaged.    This  employment  of  scien- 

**  Cf.,  e.  g.,  Karl  Pearson,  Grammar  of  Science,  and  compare  his  ideal  of 
inert  magnitudes  as  set  forth  in  his  exposition  with  bis  actual  work  as  shown 
in  chaps.  9,  10,  and  12,  and  more  particularly  in  his  discussions  of  "Mother 
Right"  and  related  topics  in  The  Chances  of  Death. 


598  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tific  knowledge  for  useful  ends  in  technology,  in  the  broad  sense 
in  which  the  term  includes,  besides  the  machine  industry  proper, 
such  branches  of  practice  as  engineering,  agriculture,  medicine, 
sanitation,  and  economic  reforms.  The  reason  why  scientific 
theories  can  be  turned  to  account  for  these  practical  ends  is  not 
that  these  ends  are  included  in  the  scope  of  scientific  inquiry. 
These  useful  purposes  lie  outside  the  scientist's  interest.  It  is 
not  that  he  aims,  or  can  aim,  at  technological  improvements.  His 
inquiry  is  as  "idle"  as  that  of  the  Pueblo  myth-maker.  But  the 
canons  of  validity  under  whose  guidance  he  works  are  those  im- 
posed by  the  modern  technology,  through  habituation  to  its  re- 
quirements; and  therefore  his  results  are  available  for  the  tech- 
nological purpose.  His  canons  of  validity  are  made  for  him  by 
the  cultural  situation ;  they  are  habits  of  thought  imposed  on  him 
by  the  scheme  of  life  current  in  the  community  in  which  he  lives; 
and  under  modem  conditions  this  scheme  of  life  is  largely 
machine-made.  In  the  modem  culture,  industry,  industrial  pro- 
cesses, and  industrial  products  have  progressively  gained  upon 
humanity,  until  these  creations  of  man's  ingenuity  have  latterly 
come  to  take  the  dominant  place  in  the  cultural  scheme ;  and  it  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  they  have  become  the  chief  force  in  shap- 
ing men's  daily  life,  and  therefore  the  chief  factor  in  shaping 
men's  habits  of  thought.  Hence  men  have  learned  to  think  in  the 
terms  in  which  the  technological  processes  act.  This  is  particu- 
larly true  of  those  men  who  by  virtue  of  a  peculiarly  strong 
susceptibility  in  this  direction  become  addicted  to  that  habit  of 
matter-of-fact  inquiry  that  constitutes  scientific  research. 

Modern  technology  makes  use  of  the  same  range  of  concepts, 
thinks  in  the  same  terms,  and  applies  the  same  tests  of  validity  as 
modern  science.  In  both,  the  terms  of  standardization,  validity, 
and  finality  are  always  terms  of  impersonal  sequence,  not  terms 
of  human  nature  or  of  preternatural  agencies.  Hence  the  easy 
copartnership  between  the  two.  Science  and  technology  play  into 
one  another's  hands.  The  processes  of  nature  with  which  science 
deals  and  which  technology  turns  to  account,  the  sequence  of 
changes  in  the  external  world,  animate  and  inanimate,  run  in 
terms  of  brute  causation,  as  do  the  theories  of  science.     These 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  599 

processes  take  no  thought  of  human  expediency  or  inexpediency. 
To  make  use  of  them  they  must  be  taken  as  they  are,  opaque  and 
unsympathetic.  Technology,  therefore,  has  come  to  proceed  on 
an  interpretation  of  these  phenomena  in  mechanical  terms,  not  in 
terms  of  imputed  personality  nor  even  of  workmanship.  Modern 
science,  deriving  its  concepts  from  the  same  source,  carries  on 
its  inquiries  and  states  its  conclusions  in  terms  of  the  same  ob- 
jective character  as  those  employed  by  the  mechanical  engineer. 

So  it  has  come  about,  through  the  progressive  change  of  the 
ruling  habits  of  thought  in  the  community,  that  the  theories  of 
science  have  progressively  diverged  from  the  formulations  of 
pragmatism,  ever  since  the  modern  era  set  in.  From  an  organi- 
zation of  knowledge  on  the  basis  of  imputed  personal  or  animis- 
tic propensity  the  theory  has  changed  its  base  to  an  imputation 
of  brute  activity  only,  and  this  latter  is  conceived  in  an  increas- 
ingly matter-of-fact  manner ;  until,  latterly,  the  pragmatic  range 
of  knowledge  and  the  scientific  are  more  widely  out  of  touch 
than  ever,  differing  not  only  in  aim,  but  in  matter  as  well.  In 
both  domains  knowledge  runs  in  terms  of  activity,  but  it  is  on 
the  one  hand  knowledge  of  what  had  best  be  done,  and  on  the 
other  hand  knowledge  of  what  takes  place;  on  the  one  hand 
knowledge  of  ways  and  means,  on  the  other  hand  knowledge 
without  any  ulterior  purpose.  The  latter  range  of  knowledge 
may  serve  the  ends  of  the  former,  but  the  converse  does  not 
hold  true. 

These  two  divergent  ranges  of  inquiry  are  to  be  found  to- 
gether in  all  phases  of  human  culture.  What  distinguishes  the 
present  phase  is  that  the  discrepancy  between  the  two  is  now 
wider  than  ever  before.  The  present  is  nowise  distinguished 
above  other  cultural  eras  by  any  exceptional  urgency  or  acumen 
in  the  search  for  pragmatic  expedients.  Neither  is  it  safe  to 
assert  that  the  present  excels  all  other  civilizations  in  the  volume 
or  the  workmanship  of  that  body  of  knowledge  that  is  to  be  cred- 
ited to  the  idle  curiosity.  What  distinguishes  the  present  in  these 
premises  is  ( i )  that  the  primacy  in  the  cultural  scheme  has  passed 
from  pragmatism  to  a  disinterested  inquiry  whose  motive  is  idle 
curiosity,  and  (2)  that  in  the  domain  of  the  latter  the  making  of 


6oo  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

myths  and  legends  in  terms  of  imputed  personality,  as  well  as  the 
construction  of  dialectical  systems  in  terms  of  differential  reality, 
has  yielded  the  first  place  to  the  making  of  theories  in  terms  of 
matter-of-fact  sequence.^  ^ 

Pragmatism  creates  nothing  but  maxims  of  expedient  conduct. 
Science  creates  nothing  but  theories.^  ^  It  knows  nothing  of 
policy  or  utility,  of  better  or  worse.  None  of  all  that  is  comprised 
in  what  is  today  accounted  scientific  knowledge.  Wisdom  and 
proficiency  of  the  pragmatic  sort  does  not  contribute  to  the  ad- 
vance of  a  knowledge  of  fact.  It  has  only  an  incidental  bearing 
on  scientific  research,  and  its  bearing  is  chiefly  that  of  inhibition 
and  misdirection.  Wherever  canons  of  expediency  are  intruded 
into  or  are  attempted  to  be  incorporated  in  the  inquiry,  the  con- 
sequence is  an  unhappy  one  for  science,  however  happy  it  may 
be  for  some  other  purpose  extraneous  to  science.  The  mental 
attitude  of  worldly  wisdom  is  at  cross-purposes  with  the  disinter- 
ested scientific  spirit,  and  the  pursuit  of  it  induces  an  intellectual 
bias  that  is  incompatible  with  scientific  insight.  Its  intellectual 
output  is  a  body  of  shrewd  rules  of  conduct,  in  great  part  de- 
signed to  take  advantage  of  human  infirmity.  Its  habitual  terms 
of  standardization  and  validity  are  terms  of  human  nature,  of 
human  preference,  prejudice,  aspiration,  endeavor,  and  disability, 
and  the  habit  of  mind  that  goes  with  it  is  such  as  is  consonant 
with  these  terms.  No  doubt,  the  all-pervading  pragmatic  animus 
of  the  older  and  non-European  civilizations  has  had  more  than 
anything  else  to  do  with  their  relatively  slight  and  slow  advance 
in  scientific  knowledge.  In  the  modem  scheme  of  knowledge  it 
holds  true,  in  a  similar  manner  and  with  analogous  effect,  that 
training  in  divinity,  in  law,  and  in  the  related  branches  of  diplo- 
macy, business  tactics,  military  affairs,  and  political  theory,  is 
alien  to  the  skeptical  scientific  spirit  and  subversive  of  it. 

The  modern  scheme  of  culture  comprises  a  large  body  of 
worldly  wisdom,  as  well  as  of  science.  This  pragmatic  lore 
stands  over  against  science  with  something  of  a  jealous  reserve. 
The  prag^atists  value  themselves  somewhat  on  being  useful  as 

"  Cf.  James,  Psychology,  Vol.  II,  chap.  28,  pp.  633-71,  esp.  p.  640  note. 
"  Cf.   Ward,  Principles   of  Psychology,  pp.  439-43. 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  6oi 

well  as  being  efficient  for  good  and  evil.  They  feel  the  inherent 
antagonism  between  themselves  and  the  scientists,  and  look  with 
some  doubt  on  the  latter  as  being  merely  decorative  triflers,  al- 
though they  sometimes  borrow  the  prestige  of  the  name  of  science 
— as  is  only  good  and  well,  since  it  is  of  the  essence  of  worldly 
wisdom  to  borrow  anything  that  can  be  turned  to  account.  The 
reasoning  in  these  fields  turns  about  questions  of  personal  ad- 
vantage of  one  kind  or  another,  and  the  merits  of  the  claims  can- 
vassed in  these  discussions  are  decided  on  grounds  of  authen- 
ticity. Personal  claims  make  up  the  subject  of  the  inquiry,  and 
these  claims  are  construed  and  decided  in  terms  of  precedent  and 
choice,  use  and  wont,  prescriptive  authority,  and  the  like.  The 
higher  reaches  of  generalization  in  these  pragmatic  inquiries  are 
of  the  nature  of  deductions  from  authentic  tradition,  and  the 
training  in  this  class  of  reasoning  gives  discrimination  in  respect 
of  authenticity  and  expediency.  The  resulting  habit  of  mind  is 
a  bias  for  substituting  dialectical  distinctions  and  decisions  de 
jure  in  the  place  of  explanations  de  facto.  The  so-called  "sci- 
ences" associated  with  these  pragmatic  disciplines,  such  as  juris- 
prudence, political  science,  and  the  like,  is  a  taxonomy  of  cre- 
denda.  Of  this  character  was  the  greater  part  of  the  "science" 
cultivated  by  the  Schoolmen,  and  large  remnants  of  the  same 
kind  of  authentic  convictions  are,  of  course,  still  found  among  the 
tenets  of  the  scientists,  particularly  in  the  social  sciences,  and 
no  small  solicitude  is  still  given  to  their  cultivation.  Substan- 
tially the  same  value  as  that  of  the  temporal  pragmatic  inquiries 
belongs  also,  of  course,  to  the  "science"  of  divinity.  Here  the 
questions  to  which  an  answer  is  sought,  as  well  as  the  aim  and 
method  of  inquiry,  are  of  the  same  pragmatic  character,  although 
the  argument  runs  on  a  higher  plane  of  personality,  and  seeks  a 
solution  in  terms  of  a  remoter  and  more  metaphysical  expediency. 

In  the  light  of  what  has  been  said  above,  the  questions  recur : 
How  far  is  the  scientific  quest  of  matter-of-fact  knowledge  conso- 
nant with  the  inherited  intellectual  aptitudes  and  propensities  of 
the  normal  man  ?  and,  What  foothold  has  science  in  the  modem 
culture  ?    The  former  is  a  question  of  the  temperamental  heritage 


6o2  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  civilized  mankind,  and  therefore  it  is  in  large  part  a  question 
of  the  circumstances  which  have  in  the  past  selectively  shaped  the 
human  nature  of  civilized  mankind.  Under  the  barbarian  cul- 
ture, as  well  as  on  the  lower  levels  of  what  is  currently  called 
civilized  life,  the  dominant  note  has  been  that  of  competitive  ex- 
pediency for  the  individual  or  the  group,  great  or  small,  in  an 
avowed  struggle  for  the  means  of  life.  Such  is  still  the  ideal  of 
the  politician  and  business  man,  as  well  as  of  other  classes  whose 
habits  of  life  lead  them  to  cling  to  the  inherited  barbarian  tra- 
ditions. The  upper-barbarian  and  lower-civilized  culture,  as  has 
already  been  indicated,  is  pragmatic,  with  a  thoroughness  that 
nearly  bars  out  any  non-pragmatic  ideal  of  life  or  of  knowledge. 
Where  this  tradition  is  strong  there  is  but  a  precarious  chance 
for  any  consistent  effort  to  formulate  knowledge  in  other  terms 
than  those  drawn  from  the  prevalent  relations  of  personal  mas- 
tery and  subservience  and  the  ideals  of  personal  gain. 

During  the  Dark  and  Middle  Ages,  for  instance,  it  is  true  in 
the  main  that  any  movement  of  thought  not  controlled  by  consid- 
erations of  expediency  and  conventions  of  status  are  to  be  found 
only  in  the  obscure  depths  of  vulgar  life,  among  those  neglected 
elements  of  the  population  that  lived  below  the  reach  of  the 
active  class  struggle.  What  there  is  surviving  of  this  vulgar,  non- 
pragmatic  intellectual  output  takes  the  form  of  legends  and  folk- 
tales, often  embroidered  on  the  authentic  documents  of  the  Faith. 
These  are  less  alien  to  the  latest  and  highest  culture  of  Christen- 
dom than  are  the  dogmatic,  dialectical,  and  chivalric  productions 
that  occupied  the  attention  of  the  upper  classes  in  mediaeval  times. 
It  may  seem  a  curious  paradox  that  the  latest  and  most  perfect 
flower  of  the  western  civilization  is  more  nearly  akin  to  the  spir- 
itual life  of  the  serfs  and  villeins  than  it  is  to  that  of  the  grange 
or  the  abbey.  The  courtly  life  and  the  chivalric  habits  of  thought 
of  that  past  phase  of  culture  have  left  as  nearly  no  trace  in  the 
cultural  scheme  of  later  modern  times  as  could  well  be.  Even 
the  romancers  who  ostensibly  rehearse  the  phenomena  of  chiv- 
alry, unavoidably  make  their  knights  and  ladies  speak  the  lan- 
guage and  the  sentiments  of  the  slums  of  that  time,  tempered 
with  certain  schematized  modem  reflections  and  sj>eculations. 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  603 

The  gallantries,  the  genteel  inanities  and  devout  imbecilities  of 
mediaeval  high-life  would  be  insufferable  even  to  the  meanest  and 
most  romantic  modern  intelligence.  So  that  in  a  later,  less  bar- 
barian age  the  precarious  remnants  of  folklore  that  have  come 
down  through  that  vulgar  channel — half  savage  and  more  than 
half  pagan — are  treasured  as  containing  the  largest  spiritual 
gains  which  the  barbarian  ages  of  Europe  have  to  offer. 

The  sway  of  barbarian  pragmatism  has,  everywhere  in  the 
western  world,  been  relatively  brief  and  relatively  light ;  the  only 
exceptions  would  be  found  in  certain  parts  of  the  Mediterranean 
seaboard.  But  wherever  the  barbarian  culture  has  been  suffi- 
ciently long-lived  and  unmitigated  to  work  out  a  thoroughly 
selective  effect  in  the  human  material  subjected  to  it,  there  the 
pragmatic  animus  may  be  expected  to  have  become  supreme  and 
to  inhibit  all  movement  in  the  direction  of  scientific  inquiry  and 
eliminate  all  effective  aptitude  for  other  than  worldly  wisdom. 
What  the  selective  consequences  of  such  a  protracted  regime  of 
pragmatism  would  be  for  the  temper  of  the  race  may  be  seen  in 
the  human  flotsam  left  by  the  great  civilizations  of  antiquity,  such 
as  Egypt,  India,  and  Persia.  Science  is  not  at  home  among  these 
leavings  of  barbarism.  In  these  instances  of  its  long  and  unmiti- 
gated dominion  the  barbarian  culture  has  selectively  worked  out  a 
temperamental  bias  and  a  scheme  of  life  from  which  objective, 
matter-of-fact  knowledge  is  virtually  excluded  in  favor  of  prag- 
matism, secular  and  religious.  But  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
race,  at  least  for  the  greater  part  of  civilized  mankind,  the  re- 
gime of  the  mature  barbarian  culture  has  been  of  relatively  short 
duration,  and  has  had  a  correspondingly  superficial  and  tran- 
sient selective  effect.  It  has  not  had  force  and  time  to  eliminate 
certain  elements  of  human  nature  handed  down  from  an  earlier 
phase  of  life,  which  are  not  in  full  consonance  with  the  barba- 
rian animus  or  with  the  demands  of  the  pragmatic  scheme  of 
thought.  The  barbarian-pragmatic  habit  of  mind,  therefore,  is 
not  properly  speaking  a  temperamental  trait  of  the  civilized 
peoples,  except  possibly  within  certain  class  limits  (as,  e.  g.,  the 
German  nobility).  It  is  rather  a  tradition,  and  it  does  not 
constitute   so   tenacious  a   bias   as   to   make  head   against   the 


6o4  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

strongly  materialistic  drift  of  modern  conditions  and  set  aside 
that  increasingly  urgent  resort  to  matter-of-fact  conceptions 
that  makes  for  the  primacy  of  science.  Civilized  mankind 
does  not  in  any  great  measure  take  back  atavistically  to  the 
upper-barbarian  habit  of  mind.  Barbarism  covers  too  small  a 
segment  of  the  life-history  of  the  race  to  have  given  an  endur- 
ing temperamental  result.  The  unmitigated  discipline  of  the 
higher  barbarism  in  Europe  fell  on  a  relatively  small  proportion 
of  the  population,  and  in  the  course  of  time  this  select  element 
of  the  population  was  crossed  and  blended  with  the  blood  of  the 
lower  elements  whose  life  always  continued  to  run  in  the  ruts  of 
savagery  rather  than  in  those  of  the  high-strung,  finished  bar- 
barian culture  that  gave  rise  to  the  chivalric  scheme  of  life. 

Of  the  several  phases  of  human  culture  the  most  protracted, 
and  the  one  which  has  counted  for  most  in  shaping  the  abiding 
traits  of  the  race,  is  unquestionably  that  of  savagery.  With 
savagery,  for  the  purpose  in  hand,  is  to  be  classed  that  lower, 
relatively  peaceable  barbarism  that  is  not  characterized  by  wide 
and  sharp  class  discrepancies  or  by  an  unremitting  endeavor  of 
one  individual  or  group  to  get  the  better  of  another.  Even 
under  the  full-grown  barbarian  culture — as,  for  instance,  during 
the  Middle  Ages — the  habits  of  life  and  the  spiritual  interests  of 
the  great  body  of  the  population  continue  in  large  measure  to 
bear  the  character  of  savagery.  The  savage  phase  of  culture 
accounts  for  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  life-history  of 
mankind,  particularly  if  the  lower  barbarism  and  the  vulgar 
life  of  later  barbarism  be  counted  in  with  savagery,  as  in  a 
measure  they  properly  should.  This  is  particularly  true  of  those 
racial  elements  that  have  entered  into  the  composition  of  the 
leading  peoples  of  Christendom. 

The  savage  culture  is  characterized  by  the  relative  absence 
of  pragmatism  from  the  higher  generalizations  of  its  knowledge 
and  beliefs.  As  has  been  noted  above,  its  theoretical  creations 
are  chiefly  of  the  nature  of  mythology  shading  off  into  folklore. 
This  genial  spinning  of  apocryphal  yams  is,  at  its  best,  an  J| 
amiably  inefficient  formulation  of  experiences  and  observations 
in  terms  of  something  like  a  life-history  of  the  phenomena  ob- 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  605 

served.  It  has,  on  the  one  hand,  little  value,  and  little  purpose, 
in  the  way  of  pragmatic  expediency,  and  so  it  is  not  closely 
akin  to  the  pragmatic-barbarian  scheme  of  life;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  also  ineffectual  as  a  systematic  knowledge  of 
matter-of-fact.  It  is  a  quest  of  knowledge,  perhaps  of  system- 
atic knowledge,  and  it  is  carried  on  under  the  incentive  of  the  idle 
curiosity.  In  this  respect  it  falls  in  the  same  class  with  the  civ- 
ilized man's  science;  but  it  seeks  knowledge  not  in  terms  of 
opaque  matter-of-fact,  but  in  terms  of  some  sort  of  a  spiritual 
life  imputed  to  the  facts.  It  is  romantic  and  Hegelian  rather 
than  realistic  and  Darwinian.  The  logical  necessities  of  its 
scheme  of  thought  are  necessities  of  spiritual  consistency  rather 
than  of  quantitative  equivalence.  It  is  Hke  science  in  that  it  has 
no  ulterior  motive  beyond  the  idle  craving  for  a  systematic 
correlation  of  data;  but  it  is  unlike  science  in  that  its  standardi- 
zation and  correlation  of  data  run  in  terms  of  the  free  play  of 
imputed  personal  initiative  rather  than  in  terms  of  the  constraint 
of  objective  cause  and  effect. 

By  force  of  the  protracted  selective  discipline  of  this  past 
phase  of  culture,  the  human  nature  of  civilized  mankind  is  still 
substantially  the  human  nature  of  savage  man.  The  ancient 
equipment  of  congenital  aptitudes  and  propensities  stands  over 
substantially  unchanged,  though  overlaid  with  barbarian  tradi- 
tions and  conventionalities  and  readjusted  by  habituation  to  the 
exigencies  of  civilized  life.  In  a  measure,  therefore,  but  by  no 
means  altogether,  scientific  inquiry  is  native  to  civilized  man 
with  his  savage  heritage,  since  scientific  inquiry  proceeds  on  the 
same  general  motive  of  idle  curiosity  as  guided  the  savage  myth- 
makers,  though  it  makes  use  of  concepts  and  standards  in  great 
measure  alien  to  the  myth-makers'  habit  of  mind.  The  ancient 
human  predilection  for  discovering  a  dramatic  play  of  passion 
and  intrigue  in  the  phenomena  of  nature  still  asserts  itself.  In 
the  most  advanced  communities,  and  even  among  the  adepts  of 
modern  science,  there  comes  up  persistently  the  revulsion  of 
the  native  savage  against  the  inhumanly  dispassionate  sweep 
of  the  scientific  quest,  as  well  as  against  the  inhumanly  ruthless 
fabric  of  technological  processes  that  have  come  out  of  this 


6o6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

search  for  matter-of-fact  knowledge.  Very  often  the  savage  need 
of  a  spiritual  interpretation  (dramatization)  of  phenomena 
breaks  through  the  crust  of  acquired  materialistic  habits  of 
thought,  to  find  such  refuge  as  may  be  had  in  articles  of  faith 
seized  on  and  held  by  sheer  force  of  instinctive  conviction. 
Science  and  its  creations  are  more  or  less  uncanny,  more  or  less 
alien,  to  that  fashion  of  craving  for  knowledge  that  by  ancient 
inheritance  animates  mankind.  Furtively  or  by  an  overt  breach 
of  consistency,  men  still  seek  comfort  in  marvelous  articles  of 
savage-born  lore,  which  contradict  the  truths  of  that  modem 
science  whose  dominion  they  dare  not  question,  but  whose  find- 
ings at  the  same  time  go  beyond  the  breaking  point  of  their 
jungle-fed  spiritual  sensibilities. 

The  ancient  ruts  of  savage  thought  and  conviction  are  smooth 
and  easy;  but  however  sweet  and  indispensable  the  archaic 
ways  of  thinking  may  be  to  the  civilized  man's  peace  of  mind, 
yet  such  is  the  binding  force  of  matter-of-fact  analysis  and  in- 
ference under  modern  conditions  that  the  findings  of  science  are 
not  questioned  on  the  whole.  The  name  of  science  is  after  all 
a  word  to  conjure  with.  So  much  so  that  the  name  and  the 
mannerisms,  at  least,  if  nothing  more  of  science,  have  invaded 
all  fields  of  learning  and  have  even  overrun  territory  that  belongs 
to  the  enemy.  So  there  are  "sciences"  of  theology,  law,  and 
medicine,  as  has  already  been  noted  above.  And  there  are  such 
things  as  Christian  Science,  and  "scientific"  astrology,  palmistry, 
and  the  like.  But  within  the  field  of  learning  proper  there  is  a 
similar  predilection  for  an  air  of  scientific  acumen  and  precision 
where  science  does  not  belong.  So  that  even  that  large  range 
of  knowledge  that  has  to  do  with  general  information  rather 
than  with  theory — what  is  loosely  termed  scholarship — tends 
strongly  to  take  on  the  name  and  forms  of  theoretical  state- 
ment. However  decided  the  contrast  between  these  branches 
of  knowledge  on  the  one  hand,  and  science  properly  so  called  on 
the  other  hand,  yet  even  the  classical  learning,  and  the  humani- 
ties generally,  fall  in  with  this  predilection  more  and  more  with 
each  succeeding  generation  of  students.  The  students  of  litera- 
ture, for  instance,  are  more  and  more  prone  to  substitute  critical 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  607 

analysis  and  linguistic  speculation,  as  the  end  of  their  endeavors,^ 
in  the  place  of  that  discipline  of  taste  and  that  cultivated  sense 
of  literary  form  and  literary  feeling  that  must  always  remain 
the  chief  end  of  literary  training,  as  distinct  from  philology  and 
the  social  sciences.  There  is,  of  course,  no  intention  to  question 
the  legitimacy  of  a  science  of  philology  or  of  the  analytical 
study  of  literature  as  a  fact  in  cultural  history,  but  these  things 
do  not  constitute  training  in  literary  taste,  nor  can  they  take 
the  place  of  it.  The  effect  of  this  straining  after  scientific  formu- 
lations in  a  field  alien  to  the  scientific  spirit  is  as  curious  as  it 
is  wasteful.  Scientifically  speaking,  those  quasi-scientific  in- 
quiries necessarily  begin  nowhere  and  end  in  the  same  place; 
while  in  point  of  cultural  gain  they  commonly  come  to  nothing 
better  than  spiritual  abnegation.  But  these  blindfold  endeavors 
to  conform  to  the  canons  of  science  serve  to  show  how  wide  and 
unmitigated  the  sway  of  science  is  in  the  modern  community. 

Scholarship — that  is  to  say  an  intimate  and  systematic  famili- 
arity with  past  cultural  achievements — still  holds  its  place  in  the 
scheme  of  learning,  in  spite  of  the  unadvised  efforts  of  the 
short-sighted  to  blend  it  with  the  work  of  science,  for  it  affords 
play  for  the  ancient  genial  propensities  that  ruled  men's 
quest  of  knowledge  before  the  coming  of  science  or  of  the  out- 
spoken pragmatic  barbarism.  Its  place  may  not  be  so  large  in 
proportion  to  the  entire  field  of  learning  as  it  was  before  the 
scientific  era  got  fully  under  way.  But  there  is  no  intrinsic 
antagonism  between  science  and  scholarship,  as  there  is  between- 
pragmatic  training  and  scientific  inquiry.  Modem  scholarship 
shares  with  modern  science  the  quality  of  not  being  pragmatic 
in  its  aim.  Like  science  it  has  no  ulterior  end.  It  may  be 
difficult  here  and  there  to  draw  the  line  between  science  and 
scholarship,  and  it  may  even  more  be  unnecessary  to  draw  such 
a  line;  yet  while  the  two  ranges  of  discipline  belong  together  in 
many  ways,  and  while  there  are  many  points  of  contact  and 
sympathy  between  the  two;  while  the  two  together  make  up- 
the  modem  scheme  of  learning;  yet  there  is  no  need  of  con- 
founding the  one  with  the  other,  nor  can  the  one  do  the  work  of 
the  other.    The  scheme  of  learning  has  changed  in  such  manner 


6o8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

as  to  give  science  the  more  commanding  place,  but  the  scholar's 
domain  has  not  thereby  been  invaded,  nor  has  it  suffered  con- 
traction at  the  hands  of  science,  whatever  may  be  said  of  the 
weak-kneed  abnegation  of  some  whose  place,  if  they  have  one, 
is  in  the  field  of  scholarship  rather  than  of  science. 

All  that  has  been  said  above  has  of  course  nothing  to  say 
as  to  the  intrinsic  merits  of  this  quest  of  matter-of-fact  knowl- 
edge. In  point  of  fact,  science  gives  its  tone  to  modern  culture. 
One  may  approve  or  one  may  deprecate  the  fact  that  this  opaque, 
materialistic  interpretation  of  things  pervades  modern  thinking. 
That  is  a  question  of  taste,  about  which  there  is  no  disputing. 
The  prevalence  of  this  matter-of-fact  inquiry  is  a  feature  of 
modern  culture,  and  the  attitude  which  critics  take  toward  this 
phenomenon  is  chiefly  significant  as  indicating  how  far  their 
own  habit  of  mind  coincides  with  the  enlightened  common-sense 
of  civilized  mankind.  It  shows  in  what  degree  they  are  abreast 
of  the  advance  of  culture.  Those  in  whom  the  savage  predilec- 
tion or  the  barbarian  tradition  is  stronger  than  their  habituation 
to  civilized  life  will  find  that  this  dominant  factor  of  modern 
life  is  perverse,  if  not  calamitous ;  those  whose  habits  of  thought 
have  been  fully  shaped  by  the  machine  process  and  scientific 
inquiry  are  likely  to  find  it  good.  The  modern  western  culture, 
with  its  core  of  matter-of-fact  knowledge,  may  be  better  or 
worse  than  some  other  cultural  scheme,  such  as  the  classic 
Greek,  the  mediaeval  Christian,  the  Hindu,  or  the  Pueblo  Indian. 
Seen  in  certain  lights,  tested  by  certain  standards,  it  is  doubtless 
better;  by  other  standards,  worse.  But  the  fact  remains  that 
the  current  cultural  scheme,  in  its  maturest  growth,  is  of  that 
complexion;  its  characteristic  force  lies  in  this  matter-of-fact 
insight;  its  highest  discipline  and  its  maturest  aspirations  are 
these. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  sober  common-sense  of  civilized  man- 
kind accepts  no  other  end  of  endeavor  as  self-sufficient  and 
ultimate.  That  such  is  the  case  seems  to  be  due  chiefly  to  the 
ubiquitous  presence  of  the  machine  technology  and  its  creations 
in  the  life  of  modern  communities.  And  so  long  as  the  machine 
process  continues  to  hold  its  dominant  place  as  a  disciplinary 


^ 


PLACE  OF  SCIENCE  IN  MODERN  CIVILIZATION  609 

factor  in  modern  culture,  so  long  must  the  spiritual  and  intel- 
lectual life  of  this  cultural  era  maintain  the  character  which 
the  machine  process  gives  it. 

But  while  the  scientist's  spirit  and  his  achievements  stir  an 
unqualified  admiration  in  modern  men,  and  while  his  discoveries 
carry  conviction  as  nothing  else  does,  it  does  not  follow  that 
the  manner  of  man  which  this  quest  of  knowledge  produces  or 
requires  comes  near  answering  to  the  current  ideal  of  manhood, 
or  that  his  conclusions  are  felt  to  be  as  good  and  beautiful  as 
they  are  true.  The  ideal  man,  and  the  ideal  of  human  life,  even 
in  the  apprehension  of  those  who  most  rejoice  in  the  advances 
of  science,  is  neither  the  finikin  skeptic  in  the  laboratory  nor  the 
animated  slide-rule.  The  quest  of  science  is  relatively  new.  It 
is  a  cultural  factor  not  comprised,  in  anything  like  its  modem 
force,  among  those  circumstances  whose  selective  action  in  the 
far  past  has  given  to  the  race  the  human  nature  which  it  now 
has.  The  race  reached  the  human  plane  with  little  of  this 
searching  knowledge  of  facts;  and  throughout  the  greater  part 
of  its  life-history  on  the  human  plane  it  has  been  accustomed 
to  make  its  higher  generalizations  and  to  formulate  its  larger 
principles  of  life  in  other  terms  than  those  of  passionless  matter- 
of-fact.  This  manner  of  knowledge  has  occupied  an  increasing 
share  of  men's  attention  in  the  past,  since  it  bears  in  a  decisive 
way  upon  the  minor  affairs  of  workday  life;  but  it  has  never 
until  now  been  put  in  the  first  place,  as  the  dominant  note  of 
human  culture.  The  normal  man,  such  as  his  inheritance  has 
made  him,  has  therefore  good  cause  to  be  restive  under  its 
dominion. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  DEDICATION  OF  WOMEN 


DR.  ELSIE  CLEWS  PARSONS 
Lecturer  in  Sociology,  Barnard  College 


Among  all  groups  of  men  the  inferior  has  been  wont  to  turn 
away  the  anger  or  win  the  good-will  of  his  superior  by  gift- 
making.  Religious  worship  in  many  of  its  forms  is,  at  bottom, 
gift-making  by  man,  the  inferior,  to  God,  the  superior.^  The 
nature  of  the  gift  from  man  to  man  varies  according  to  prevailing 
social  values.  Cattle,  slaves,  women,  precious  stones  or  metals, 
manifold  forms  of  personal  service  or  devotion,  are  the  gifts 
characteristic  of  various  economic  and  cultural  states  of  society. 
The  form  of  man's  gift  to  God  is  likewise  determined  by  social 
values.  The  following  discussion  is  an  attempt  to  tell  the  story 
of  one  particular  form  of  religious  gift,  the  gift  of  women. 

In  almost  all  primitive  groups  women  are  valued  as  a  form  of 
property  which  their  owners  —  husbands,  fathers,  or  brothers  — 
may  dispose  of  at  pleasure.  Ordinarily  they  are  disposed  of  by 
male  relatives  in  marriage  by  barter,  purchase,  or  service,  or  by 
husbands  in  conjugal  servitude,  in  wife-exchange,  or  in  sexual 
hospitality.^  Occasionally  they  serve  as  gifts  to  chiefs  or  gods. 
The  occasion  sometimes  requires  the  immolation  of  the  gift. 
Peter  de  Cieza  relates  of  the  Quillacingas  of  New  Granada  that 
neighboring  chiefs  sent  one,  two,  or  three  women  to  be  buried 
alive  with  a  deceased  chief,  that  he  "  might  go  to  the  devil  with 
company."  ^    There  is  a  Chinese  story  that  a  man  once  interred 

^Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  Vol.  II,  pp.  340,  341.  Granted,  with  Robertson- 
Smith,  Jevons,  and  Frazer,  the  hypothesis  of  the  origin  of  sacrifice  as  a  means  of 
assimilation  with  the  totem-god,  it  is,  nevertheless,  a  fact  that  sacrifice  as  an 
expiatory  or  propitiatory  offering  exists  in  all  forms  of  religion  which  have  passed 
beyond  the  stage  of  sympathetic  magic. 

*  A  variation  of  the  practice  of  sexual  hospitality,  particularly  interesting  in 
connection  with  the  following  discussion,  is  found  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa. 
Bosman,  quoted  by  McGennan  (Studies  in  Ancient  History,  2d  series,  p.  424), 
states  that  in  polygynous  Guinea  a  man's  second  wife  is  "  consecrated  "  to  his  god. 

f  The  Seventeen  Years  of  Travels  of  Peter  de  Cieza  through  the  Mighty 
Kingdom  of  Peru  (London,  1709),  pp.  89,  34. 

610 


RELIGIOUS  DEDICATION  OF   WOMEN  6ii 

two  of  his  daughters  with  his  deceased  sovereign  as  a  mark 
of  gratitude  for  his  having,  on  a  certain  occasion,  shown  clemency 
to  his  father.^  We  may  note,  in  this  connection,  that  the  practice 
of  widow-immolation  has  prevailed  more  or  less  among  all 
ancestor-worshiping  peoples  as  a  means  of  providing  the  deceased 
husband  with  conjugal  service  after  death.  In  gifts  of  women 
to  gods  the  occasion  is  also  at  times  one  of  blood-sacrifice.  The 
blood-sacrifice  of  human  beings  is  generally  supposed  to  point  to 
original  cannibal  practices  by  the  sacrificers.  The  fact  that  in  the 
blood-sacrifice  of  women  to  gods  the  women  are  not  infrequently 
virgins  suggests  that  they  are  sometimes  destined  for  the  sexual 
service  of,  instead  of  for  food  for,  the  propitiated  god.** 

Whatever  may  be  the  explanation  of  the  blood-sacrifice  of 
virgins,  however,  the  dedication  to  the  use  of  gods  of  living 
women  during  their  whole  lifetime,  or  for  limited  periods  —  a 
practice  customary  among  many  peoples  —  is  based  on  the  idea  of 
the  existence  of  sexual  relations  between  the  dedicated  women 
and  the  god  to  whom  they  are  given.®  The  devotion  of  living 
women  to  deity  is  analogous  to  the  dedication  in  an  earthly  abode 
of  deity  of  non-perishable  articles  of  value.  The  act  of  immola- 
tion or  destruction  seems  to  be  no  longer  a  condition  necessary  to 

*  De  Groot,  The  Religious  System  of  China,  Vol.  II,  p^  725   (Leyden,  1894). 

*  The  practice  of  the  natives  of  New  Granada  shows  in  a  gruesome  way  bow 
the  same  women  may  be  considered  useful  for  both  purposes.  They  took  their 
war-captives  "  when  they  were  virgins,  and  brought  up  the  children  they  had  by 
them,  with  much  care,  until  they  were  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of  age,  when  they 
ate  them,  as  well  as  their  mother,  so  soon  as  she  was  past  child-bearing." 
(Garcilasso  del  Vega,  Royal  Commentaries  of  the  Incas,  Vol.  I,  pp.  55,  56.)  If 
human  sacrifice  be  interpreted  as  a  blood-covenant  with  deity,  the  sacrifice  of 
women  might  be  taken  as  an  added  means  of  alliance  through  sexual  relations 
between  the  victims  and  the  god.  The  fact  that  in  China,  when  sutteeism  in 
general  was  abolished,  the  self-immolation  of  widows  or  affianced  virgins  to 
escape  violation  was  allowed,  suggests  that  the  immolation  of  god-given  women 
may  have  been  thought  of  as  the  most  thorough  way  of  securing  them  inviolable 
to  the  god. 

*  Crooke  cites  from  a  Settlement  report  an  instance  in  northern  India  which 
may  point  to  a  transition  from  blood-sacrifice  to  dedication  of  living  women  to 
gods :  "  In  the  Gurgaon  District,  in  the  Rewari  Tahsil,  at  the  village  of  Bas  Doda, 
a  fair  is  held  on  the  26th  of  Chait  and  the  two  following  days.  I  was  told  that 
formerly  girls  of  the  Dhinwar  class  used  to  be  married  to  the  god  at  these  festivals, 
and  that  they  always  died  soon  afterwards."  (Folk-Lore  of  Northern  India, 
Vol.  II,  p.  118.) 


6i2  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  enjoyment  of  the  offerings  by  the  gods.  An  analogous  stage 
of  thought  is  reached  in  the  relations  between  men  and  women 
when  the  immolation  of  widows  changes  into  the  observation  of 
chastity  during  prolonged  widowhood,  or  of  perpetual  virginity, 
as  in  China,  when  the  affianced  husband  dies  before  the  marriage/ 
Pertinent  in  this  connection  is  the  fact  that  in  certain  communi- 
ties where  widow-marriage  in  general  is  not  forbidden,  marriage 
with  the  widows  of  hypotheosized  chiefs  or  semi-divine  person- 
ages is  banned.  For  example :  "  It  is  not  right  for  you  to  ...  . 
wed  his  [Mahomet's]  wives  after  him  ever;  verily,  that  is  with 
God  a  serious  thing."  * 

The  practice  of  the  Guinea  Africans  is  a  notable  instance  of 
the  crudest  form  of  the  religious  dedication  of  women.  Most  of 
the  gods  of  the  polygynous  and  polytheistic  Ewe-  and  Tshi- 
speaking  negroes  of  the  Slave  and  Gold  Coasts  have  women  con- 
secrated to  their  service  as  wives.  (This  is  the  native  term.  It 
would  be  more  proper  to  call  the  human  wives  concubines,  as 
their  god-masters  also  have  divine  mates.)  In  the  kingdom  of 
Dahomi,  where  it  is  estimated  that  every  fourth  woman  is  in  the 
service  of  the  gods,  the  god  Khebioso  alone  is  said  to  have 
fifteen  hundred  "wives."  Danhgbi,  another  god  of  the  Ewe- 
speaking  peoples,  has  probably  two  thousand  "  wives."  The  mar- 
riages of  these  "wives"  are  consummated  by  the  priests  as 
representatives  of  the  gods.  The  priests  are  allowed  to  marry, 
but  the  gods'  wives  or  priestesses  are  not ;  for  they  belong  to  the 
gods  they  serve.  They  are  unrestricted,  however,  in  sexual  inter- 
course, and  may  send  for  any  man  they  fancy  to  live  with  them. 
No  man  dare  refuse,  and  some  priestesses  have  as  many  as  six 
men  in  their  train  at  once.®  We  may  note,  in  this  description  of 
the  African  priestesses,  that  divine  conjugal  proprietorship  does 
not  preclude  sexual  intercourse  between  the  wife-priestess  and 

^  In  the  imperial  Chinese  edict  forbidding  sutteeism  the  argument  is  used  that 
faithful  wives  should  continue  to  live  because  they  can  best  serve  their  husbands 
by  so  doing.  The  custom  then  arose  of  widows  dwelling  near  the  graves  of  their 
husbands,  and  there  observing  the  rites  due  to  his  spirit  ^(De  Groot,  The  Reli- 
gious System  of  China,  Vol.  II,  pp.  727-806. 

*Qur'&n.  XXXIII,  54  ("Books  of  the  East"  series). 

•  Ellis,  The  Ewe-Speaking  Peoples,  pp.  38,  60,  and  chap,  ix ;  also  Ellis,  The 
Tshi-Speaking  Peoples,  pp.  121,  122. 


RELIGIOUS  DEDICATION  OF  WOMEN  613 

the  priest-proxy  or  male  worshiper.  The  erotic  activity  of  the 
priestess  is  thought  to  be  inspired  by  the  god.  Among  the  same 
peoples  conjugal  proprietorship  among  men  does  not  preclude  the 
practice  of  sexual  hospitality.^'^ 

As  female  chastity  in  general  becomes  more  valued,  how- 
ever, divine,  like  human,  proprietorship  in  women  takes  on  a 
more  exclusive  character."  We  may  also  note  that,  as  adultery 
is  forbidden  to  the  royal  wives,  so  chastity  is  required  of  the  girls 
dedicated  to  the  temple-service  of  a  deified  king.^^  The  ideas  and 
practices  of  the  ancient  Peruvians  in  regard  to  the  sexual  privi- 
leges of  their  Sun-god  and  their  god-descended  ruler  represent 

"It  may  occur  to  the  reader  that  at  this  point  a  discussion  of  temple- 
prostitution  were  pertinent.  Temple-prostitution  may  contain  elements  of  the 
form  of  worship  that  we  are  considering.  The  fact,  however,  that  in  phallic 
worship  temple-prostitutes  are  even  more  frequently  in  the  service  of  female  than 
of  male  deities  leads  us  to  suppose  that  there  are  other  ideas  expressed  in  this 
practice  besides  ideas  of  sexual  service.  For  the  servant-priestesses  of  phallic 
goddesses,  see  Pearson,  The  Chances  of  Death  and  Other  Studies  in  Evolution, 
Vol.  II,  pp.  106,  107  (London  and  New  York,  1897). 

Wilutzky  has,  in  his  Vorgeschichte  des  Rechts  (Breslau,  1903),  pp.  37-40, 
brought  together  the  instances  of  temple-prostitution  reported  by  the  ancient 
writers.  In  a  rather  singular  attempt  to  revivify  the  outcast  promiscuity  theory,  he 
concludes  that  temple-prostitution  was  a  tribute  to  the  gods  as  supporters  of  primi- 
tive customs ;  it  was  planned  to  please  them  as  a  return  to  ancestral  promiscuity. 
Whatever  may  be  the  explanation  of  temple-prostitution,  it  appears  that  in  religious 
as  in  human  relations  the  juridical  idea  of  sexual  proprietorship  was,  in  contrast  to 
the  idea  of  sexual  promiscuity,  the  teleological  line  of  development.  And  yet  facts 
of  religious  proprietorship  in  women  have  hitherto  passed  unobserved  or  uninter- 
preted. This  may  be  due  to  the  disproportionate  amount  of  attention  that  has  been 
bestowed  upon  facts  of  religious  promiscuity  as  a  crop  of  the  general  "  wild  oats  " 
theory  of  promiscuity. 

"  Ritualistic  phrases  are  sometimes  reminiscent  of  the  earlier  and  grosser 
ideas  and  practices.  In  ancient  Egypt,  under  the  New  Empire,  female  singers 
were  employed  in  the  temples  in  great  numbers.  Erman  writes  that  "  we  scarcely 
meet  with  one  lady  ....  whether  she  were  married  or  unmarried,  the  wife  of  an 
ecclesiastic  or  layman,  whether  she  belonged  to  the  family  of  a  high-priest  or  to 
that  of  an  artisan,  who  was  not  thus  connected  with  a  temple  "  (Life  in  Ancient 
Egypt,  P-  29s).  These  singers  were  supposed  to  form  the  harem  of  the  god.  They 
held  various  degrees  of  rank,  as  in  an  earthly  harem.  Certain  women  of  high 
rank  had  the  honor  of  bearing  the  title  of  chief  concubine  of  the  god.  At  the 
head  of  the  mystical  harem  at  Thebes  there  stood  the  legitimate  consort,  called  the 
"  wife  of  the  god,"  the  "  hand  of  the  god,"  or  the  "  adorer  of  the  god,"  and  to  her 
house  belonged  the  singers.  She  represented  the  heavenly  consort  of  Amon,  the 
goddess  Mut.     (Ibid.,  pp.  295,  296.) 

"  Ellis,  The  Ewe-Speaking  Peoples,  pp.  89,  90. 


6i4  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

an  early  stage  of  the  transition  from  the  idea  of  divine  proprietor- 
ship in  women,  as  expressed  in  sexual  acts,  to  the  developed  form 
of  this  idea  expressed  in  the  practice  of  perpetual  virginity.  The 
parallelism  between  the  virgins  dedicated  to  the  Sun  and  the 
virgins  dedicated  to  the  Inca,  as  seen  in  the  following  citations 
from  Garcillasso  del  Vega,  is  of  itself  the  best  exposition  of  this 
transition.  Attached  to  every  temple  of  the  Sun  was  a  house  of 
virgins  called  the  house 

of  the  chosen  ones,  because  they  were  selected  by  reason  either  of  their  lineage 
or  of  their  beauty.  They  were  obliged  to  be  virgins;  and  to  insure  their 
being  so,  they  were  set  apart  at  the  age  of  eight  years  and  under." 

At  the  house  at  Cuzco  there  were  usually  as  many  as  fifteen 
hundred  virgins.    These  virgins  lived 

in  perpetual  seclusion  to  the  end  of  their  lives,  and  preserved  their  virginity; 
and  they  were  not  permitted  to  converse,  or  have  intercourse  with,  or  to  see 
any  man,  nor  any  woman  who  was  not  one  of  themselves.  For  it  was  said 
that  the  women  of  the  Sun  should  not  be  made  common  by  being  seen  of  any ; 
....  The  principal  duty  of  the  virgins  of  the  Sun  was  to  weave  and  to 
make  all  that  the  Inca  wore  on  his  person,  and  likewise  all  the  clothes  of  his 
legitimate  wife  the  Ccoya.  They  also  wove  all  the  very  fine  clothes  which  were 
oflFered  as  sacrifices  to  the  Sun." 

[They]  made  all  these  things  with  their  own  hands,  in  great  quantities 
for  the  Sun,  their  husband;  but,  as  the  Sun  could  not  dress  nor  fetch  the 
ornaments,  they  sent  them  to  the  Inca,  as  his  legitimate  son  and  heir,  that  he 
might  wear  them." 

As  those  things  were  made  by  the  hands  of  the  Ccoyas,  or  wives  of  the 
Sun,  and  were  made  for  the  Sun,  and  as  these  women  were  by  birth  of  the 
same  blood  as  the  Sun,"  for  all  these  reasons  their  work  was  held  in  gfreat 
veneration.  So  that  the  Inca  could  not  give  the  thing  made  by  the  virgins  to 
any  person  whatever  who  was  not  of  the  blood  royal,  because  they  said  that  it 
was  unlawful  for  ordinary  mortals  to  use  divine  things.  The  Incas  were 
prohibited  from  giving  them  to  the  Curacas,  or  captains,  how  great  soever 

their  services  might  have  been,  unless  they  were  relations [The  virgins 

had  also]  to  make  the  bread  called  cancu  at  the  proper  season,  for  the  sacrifices 
that  were  offered  up  to  the  Sun  at  the  great  festivals  called  Raymi  and  Situa. 
They  also  made  the  liquor  which  the  Inca  and  his  family  drank  on  those 
occasions." 

All  the  furniture  of  the  convent,  down  to  the  pots,  pans,  and  jars,  were 

"Royal  Commentaries,  Vol.  I,  p.  292. 

"  Ibid.,  pp.  293,  296.  "  See  below. 

*•  Ibid.,  p.  297.  "  Loc  cit.,  pp.  297,  298. 


RELIGIOUS  DEDICATION  OF  WOMEN  O15 

of  gold  and  silver,  as  in  the  temple  of  the  Sun,  because  the  virgins  were  looked 

upon  as  his  wives All  things  relating  to  them  were  in  conformity  with 

the  life  and  conversation  of  women  who  observed  perpetual  seclusion  and 
virginity.  There  was  a  law  for  the  nun  who  should  transgress  this  rule  of  life, 
that  she  should  be  buried  alive  and  that  her  accomplice  should  be  strangled. 
But  as  it  seemed  to  them  but  a  slight  punishment  only  to  kill  a  man  for  so 
grave  an  offense  as  the  violation  of  a  woman  dedicated  to  the  Sun,  his  god, 
and  the  father  of  his  Kings,  the  law  directed  that  the  wife,  children,  servants, 
and  relations  of  the  delinquent  should  be  put  to  death,  as  well  as  all  the 
inhabitants  of  his  village  and  all  their  flock,  without  leaving  a  suckling  nor  a 
crying  baby,  as  the  saying  is.  The  village  was  pulled  down  and  the  site  strewn 
with  stones,  that  the  birthplace  of  so  bad  a  son  might  forever  remain  desolate 
and  accursed,  where  no  man  nor  even  beast  might  rest.  This  was  the  law,  but 
it  was  never  put  into  execution,  because  no  man  ever  transgressed  it." 

The  Sun  or  Inca  clan  was  endogamous;  for  their  great 
ancestor  the  Sun  had  married  as  his  legitimate  wife  the  Moon, 
his  sister.    His  earth-wives  or  concubines  were  also 

obliged  to  be  of  the  same  blood,  that  is  to  say,  daughters  of  the  Incas,  either 

of  the  King  or  of  his  relations,  being  free  from  all  foreign  blood They 

gave  as  a  reason  for  this  that  as  they  could  only  offer  virgins  for  the  service  of 
the  Sun,  so  it  was  likewise  unlawful  to  offer  a  bastard  with  mixed  foreign 
blood.  For  though  they  imagined  that  the  Sun  had  children,  they  considered 
that  they  ought  not  to  be  bastards,  with  mixed  divine  and  human  blood." 

The  Inca,  the  lineal  representative  of  the  Sun-god,  had  also 
his  houses  of  virgins.  All  things  were  the  same  in  the  Inca's 
houses  as  in  the  Sun's  houses,  except  that  women  of  all  kinds 
were  admitted  into  the  former  as  long  as  they  were  virgins  and 
very  beautiful.^*^     When  the  Inca  asked  for  one,  they  selected 

"/Wd.,  p.  398.  » /Wd.,  p.  292. 

"  Polo  de  Ondegardo  gives  a  rather  different  classification  for  the  "  devoted 
women."  Part  were  sent  to  Cuzco  for  blood-sacrifice  (this  statement  is  significant 
for  the  hypothesis  that  living  dedication  was  the  outcome  of  blood-sacrifice),  and 
part  were  secluded  in  women's  houses.  There  were  three  kinds  of  houses :  the 
Sun's,  the  Inca's,  and  the  captains'  and  governors'.  (Vol.  XLVIII,  pp.  165  ff., 
"  Hakluyt  Society  Works.") 

In  support  of  the  hypothesis  that  blood-sacrifice  of  women  to  deity  is  analogous 
to  widow-immolation  is  the  fact  that  the  latter  as  well  as  the  former  was  practiced 
in  Peru.     "  When  an  Inca  or  any  great  Curaca  died,  his  favorite  servants  and 

most  beloved  wives  were  buried  alive  with  him  or  killed It  is  certain  that 

they  themselves  [wives]  volunteered  to  be  killed,  and  their  number  was  often 
such  that  the  officers  were  obliged  to  interfere,  saying  that  enough  had  gfone  at 


6i6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  most  beautiful  to  be  sent  to  where  he  was,  as  his  concu- 
bine." 

Those  who  had  once  been  sent  out  as  concubines  to  the  King,  could  not 
again  return  to  the  convent,  but  served  in  the  royal  palace  as  servants  of  the 
Queen,  until  they  obtained  permission  to  return  to  their  homes,  where  they 
received  houses  and  lands,  and  were  treated  with  much  veneration,  for  it  was 
a  very  great  honor  to  the  whole  neighborhood  to  have  near  them  a  woman 
of  the  Inca.**  Those  who  did  not  attain  to  the  honor  of  being  concubines  of 
the  King,  remained  in  the  convent  until  they  were  very  old  and  then  had  per- 
mission to  return  home,  or  else  died  in  the  convent.** 

These  girls  were  guarded  with  the  same  care  and  vigilance  as  those  of  the 
Sun.  They  had  servant-maids  like  the  others,  and  were  maintained  out  of  the 
estate  of  the  Inca,  because  they  were  his  women.  They  could  do  the  same 
work  as  those  of  the  Sun,  weaving  and  sewing,  making  clothes  in  very  great 
quantities  for  the  Inca,  and  making  all  the  other  things  we  have  mentioned 
as  being  the  work  of  the  virgins  of  the  Sun.  The  Inca  distributed  the  work 
of  these  girls  among  the  royal  family,  the  Curacas,  war  captains,  and  all  other 
persons  whom  he  desired  to  honour  with  presents.  These  gifts  were  not  pro- 
hibited, because  they  were  made  by  the  Incas  and  for  him,  and  not  by  the 
virgins  of  the  Sun  for  the  Sun.** 

The  same  severe  law  existed  against  delinquents  who  violated  the  women 
of  the  Inca  as  against  those  who  were  guilty  with  virgins  dedicated  to  the 
Sun,  as  the  crime  was  considered  to  be  the  same." 

Still  another  form  of  religious  chastity  was  practiced  by  the 
Peruvian  women: 

present,  and  that  the  rest  would  go  to  serve  their  master,  one  by  one,  as  they  died." 
{Royal  Commentaries,  Vol.  II,  p.  113.) 

Transitions  from  widow-immolation  are  also  found  in  Peru,  (i)  In  a  burial 
mound  at  Gran  Chimu  were  found  metal  figures  representing  human  beings, 
(Squier,  Peru:  Incidents  of  Travel  and  Exploration  in  the  Land  of  the  Incas 
[London,  1877],  p.  158.)  (2)  "The  chastity  of  widows  must  not  be  forgotten,  which 
they  preserved,  with  great  strictness,  during  the  first  year  of  their  bereavement. 
And  very  few  of  those  who  had  no  children  ever  married  again,  and  even  those 
who  had  continued  to  live  single ;  for  this  virtue  was  much  commended  in  their 
laws  and  ordinances.  It  was  there  directed  that  the  lands  of  the  widows  should 
be  tilled  first,  before  those  of  either  the  Curacas  or  the  Incas,  and  other  privileges 
were  conceded  to  them.  It  is  also  true  that  the  Indians  did  not  approve  of  mar- 
raige  with  a  widow,  especially  if  the  man  was  not  a  widower ;  for  it  was  said 
that  such  an  one  lost,  I  know  not  what,  of  his  quality  in  marrying  a  widow." 
{Royal  Commentaries,  Vol.  I,  pp.  305,  306.) 

'^  Loc.  cit.,  p.  299. 

**  Cunow  points  out,  in  quoting  other  Spanish  writers  on  the  subject,  that  this 
was  one  of  Garcillasso's  many  rosy  views  of  the  Inca  despotism  {Die  soziale  Ver- 
fassung  des  Inkareichs  [Stuttgart,  1896],  pp.  110-12). 

"  Loc.  cit.,  p.  301.  **  Ibid.,  pp.  299,  300.  '^  Ibid.,  p.  300. 


RELIGIOUS  DEDICATION  OF  WOMEN  617 

Besides  the  virgins  who  professed  perpetual  virginity  in  the  monasteries, 
there  were  many  women  of  the  blood  royal  who  led  the  same  life  in  their 
own  houses,  having  taken  a  vow  of  chastity,  though  they  were  not  secluded; 
for  they  did  not  cease  to  visit  their  nearest  relations  when  they  were  sick,  or 
in  childbirth,  or  when  their  first-boms  were  shorn  and  named.  These  women 
were  held  in  great  veneration  for  their  chastity  and  purity,  and,  as  a  mark  of 
worship  and  respect,  they  are  called  Ocllo,  which  was  a  name  held  sacred  in 
their  idolatry.  The  chastity  of  these  women  was  not  feigned,  but  was  truly 
observed,  on  pain  of  being  burnt  alive  if  it  was  lost,  or  of  being  cast  into  the 
lake  of  lions.  I  myself  was  acquainted  with  one  of  these  women,  when  she 
was  in  extreme  old  age,  and  who,  having  never  married,  was  called  Ocllo. 
She  sometimes  visited  my  mother,  and  I  was  given  to  understand  that  she  was 
her  great  aunt,  being  a  sister  of  her  grandfather.  She  was  held  in  great 
veneration  and  was  given  the  first  place,  and  I  am  witness  that  my  mother  so 
treated  her,  as  well  because  she  was  her  aunt,  as  on  account  of  her  age  and 
purity  of  life."" 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  whether  the  cloistered  women 
of  Peru  developed  from  the  home-staying  celibates,  as  in  early 
Christendom,  or  vice  versa.  The  severity  of  the  punishment 
inflicted  upon  violators  of  the  Sun's  women  is  also  suggestive  of 
early  Christian  practice.  In  826,  for  example,  Louis-le-Debon- 
naire  decreed  that  the  seduction  of  a  nun  was  to  be  punished  by 
the  death  of  both  partners  in  guilt,  that  the  property  was  to  be 
consecrated  to  the  church,  and  that  if  the  count  in  whose  dis- 
trict the  crime  occurred  neglected  its  prosecution,  he  was  to  be 
degraded,  deprived  of  his  office,  undergo  public  penance,  and  pay 
his  full  wer-gild  to  the  fisc,^'^ 

The  exclusive  character  of  divine  proprietorship  in  women  is 
also  seen  in  the  recently  published  Babylonian  code  of  Ham- 
murabi. The  code  prescribes  that  if  a  priestess  leave  the  cloister 
and  go  into  a  tavern  to  drink,  she  shall  be  bumed.^^  In  this  code, 
as  well  as  in  Garcillasso  del  Vega's  description  of  the  ancient 
Peruvian  customs,  the  parallelism  between  the  women  devoted 
to  the  god  Marduk  and  the  wives  of  men  is  enlightening :  "  If 
anyone  defame  a  priestess  or  the  wife  of  a  free  man  without 
proof,  he  shall  be  taken  before  the  judge  and  his  forehead  shall  be 
cut."  2®     Fathers  dedicated  their  daughters  to  Marduk  with  or 

"  Ibid.,  p.  305. 

"Lea,  An  Historical  Sketch  of  Sacerdotal  Celibacy   (Boston,   1884),  p.   136. 
^  Memoir es.  Vol.  IV,  "  Textes  61amites-semitiques  "  (Paris,  1902),  p.  142. 
"Ibid.,  p.  144. 


6i8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

without  the  customary  marriage  dowry.  If  without  the 
priestess  could  claim  a  portion  of  the  patrimony  at  her  father's 
death.  If  the  father  failed  to  stipulate,  in  providing  the  dowry, 
that  the  priestess  was  free  to  do  with  it  what  she  willed,  her 
brothers  were  entitled  at  the  father's  death  to  take  fromi  her  the 
field  and  garden  of  which  the  dowry  consisted,  in  exchange  for 
wheat  and  oil  and  linen.^** 

I  shall  not  attempt  at  present  to  analyze  the  final  stage  in  the 
development  of  the  religious  dedication  of  women.  The  subject 
would  require  an  exhaustive  study  of  the  practice  of  religious 
female  celibacy  in  Christianity.  Let  me  point  out  tentatively, 
however,  that  the  Christian  nun  may  well  be  thought  of  as  the 
descendant  of  the  African  wife-priestess  and  the  Peruvian  Sun- 
wife.  In  Christianity  sacrifice  passed  over  from  the  gift  stage  to 
the  self-abn^ation  stage.'*  And  this  change  in  the  general  con- 
ception of  sacrifice  involved  a  change  in  the  ideas  of  the  meaning 
of  religious  female  celibacy.  In  Christianity,  too,  the  exclusive 
character  of  divine  proprietorship  was  thought  of  rather  as  pre- 
cluding sexual  intercourse  with  men  than  as  leading  to  it  with 
deity.  Besides,  the  idea  of  a  mystical  union  with  deity  took  the 
place  of  ideas  of  sexual  relations  with  deity. '^ 

I  also  refrain  from  a  full  discussion  of  certain  practices  which 
at  first  sight  seem  to  be  closely  akin  to  the  subject  under  con- 
sideration. I  mean  the  practices  of  religious  defloration  and  of 
conjugal  abstinence  at  more  or  less  sanctified  i>eriods.  Mr. 
Crawley  has  pointed  out,  in  developing  his  theory  of  sexual  tabu, 
that  both  practices  are  due  to  the  idea  of  danger  from  sexual 
intercourse. '^  Let  me  remark,  incidentally,  that  religious  deflora- 
tion is  undoubtedly  at  times  an  act  of  phallicism,  the  adoration  or 

*' Loc.  cit.,  pp.   151,   152. 

"Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  Vol.  II,  pp.  359  flF. 

"  Mariology,  the  widespread  mediaeval  beliefs  in  the  existence  of  incubi  and 
succubi,  the  endless  incidents  of  sexual  pathology  in  the  lives  of  the  saints,  and 
the  consecration  of  the  nun  with  its  simulated  marriage  rite  of  "  taking  the  veil  " 
as  the  "bride  of  Christ,"  show  that  the  primitive  attitude  of  mind  was  still  held 
by  many. 

**The  Mystic  Rose,  pp.  188,  189,  349.  Durkheim  thinks  ("La  prohibition-  de 
I'inceste,"  L'annce  sociologique.  1896-97,  p.  55,  n.  i)  that  this  very  danger  is  due, 
in  primitive  thought,  not,  according  to  Mr.  Crawley,  to  female  weakness,  but  to 


RELIGIOUS  DEDICATION  OF  WOMEN  619 

placation  of  deity  for  the  sake  of  fertility.  As  a  fertility  rite  it 
may  certainly  be  viewed  as  a  form  of  the  religious  dedication  of 
women  in  general.  Hamilton  gives  us  a  clear  statement  on  this 
point  in  relation  to  the  practice  of  the  jus  primae  noctis  as  a 
religious  ceremony  on  the  Malabar  coast : 

When  the  Samorin  (ruler  of  Calicut)  marries,  he  must  not  cohabit  with 
his  bride  till  the  hambourie  or  chief  priest  has  enjoyed  her,  and,  if  he  pleases, 
may  have  three  nights  of  her  company,  because  the  first-fruits  of  her  nuptials 
must  be  a  holy  oblation  to  the  god  she  worships ;  and  some  of  the  nobles  are 
so  complaisant  as  to  allow  the  clergy  the  same  tribute.** 

Conjugal  abstinence  on  religious  occasions  may  also  partake  of 
the  nature  of  a  dedication  in  communities  where  sacrifice  has 
become  self-abnegation.  Nevertheless,  I  do  not  wish  to  intro- 
duce these  subjects  into  my  argument.  To  do  so,  a  close  and 
exhaustive  study  would  be  necessary  of  every  case  of  defloration 
or  conjugal  abstinence  as  a  religious  rite  in  relation  to  other  social 
facts  in  the  specific  community,  in  order  to  determine  the  respect- 
ive parts  played  by  phallic  worship,  self-sacrifice,  and  sexual  tabu 
in  the  rite.  For  example,  the  dictate  of  Moses  to  the  Hebrews, 
ordering  them  to  refrain  from  sexual  intercourse  with  their  wives, 
preparatory  to  the  appearance  of  Yahweh  on  Mount  Sinai,  was 
probably  a  purificatory  observance,  a  tabu  due  to  fear  of  female 
contamination  on  a  sacred  occasion. ^'^  In  this  early  period  of 
Hebrew  history  the  gift  theory  had  not  yet  passed  into  the  self- 
abnegation  theory.  Self-sacrificial,  on  the  other  hand,  may  have 
been,  in  view  of  early  Christian  asceticism,  the  synodal  decrees  of 
Bishop  Ratherius  and  of  Egbert,  archbishop  of  York,  prescribing 
conjugal  abstinence  for  a  period  of  two  weeks  at  Christmas,  of 
one  week  at  Easter  and  Whitsuntide,  for  the  eves  of  feast-days, 
for  Saturdays  and  Sundays,  and  for  three  days  and  nights  before 
and  after  partaking  of  the  holy  communion.^®  A  like  difference 
of  motive  is  seen  in  the  Jewish  story  of  Tobias,  and  in  certain  of 
the  early  papal  admonishments  in  regard  to  postponing  the  con- 

female  sanctity.  Because  of  the  meaning  attaching  to  blood  in  general  and  there- 
fore to  menstrual  blood,  women  are  thought  of  as  peculiarly  close  to  the  totem-god. 
Hence  clan  exogamy.  Compare  with  what  has  preceded  in  regard  to  the  sin  of 
violating  ecclesiastically  dedicated  women. 

"Schmidt,  Jus  Primae  Noctis,  pp.  313-18. 

"Exod.  19:  15.  "Schmidt,  op.  cit.,  p.  149,  n.  1. 


[ 


620  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

summation  of  marriage.  Again,  when  the  priest-god  of  the 
kingdom  of  Congo  left  his  residence  to  visit  other  places  within 
his  jurisdiction,  all  married  people  had  to  observe  strict  continence 
the  whole  time  he  was  out.  Frazer  gives  this  fact  in  illustration 
of  sexual  tabu ;  ^'^  but,  after  a  close  scrutiny  of  other  facts  about 
this  Congo  people,  it  is  possible  that  we  might  conclude  that  this 
practice  was  a  worn-down  survival  of  sexual  hospitality  during 
the  journeys  of  the  priest-god. 

I  also  refrain  from  discussing  the  practice  of  male  chastity  as 
a  religious  rule.  As  in  religious  defloration  and  conjugal  con- 
tinence, sexual  tabu  and  self-sacrifice  are  undoubtedly  important 
factors.  But  here,  too,  they  need  to  be  carefully  analyzed  in  rela- 
tion to  other  social  facts.  At  present  we  need  only  note  that 
religious  male  chastity  may  also  develop  from  religious  female 
chastity  by  the  process  of  false  analogy,  which  plays  such  an 
important  part  in  many  other  social  phenomena.  When  the 
origin  of  religious  female  chastity  in  divine  proprietorship  is  lost 
sight  of,  and  the  state  is  considered  only  one  of  self-sacrificing 
worship,  it  is  naturally  thought  of  as  fit  for  male  worshipers  as 
well.^^  This  process  is  part  of  the  general  development  of  male 
from  female  chastity.  When  prematrimonial  chastity  and  con- 
jugal fidelity  come  to  be  valued  as  abstract  social  virtues,  they 
cease  to  be  thought  of  as  specifically  female  characteristics.  I 
suggest  that  the  practice  of  sexual  abstinence  by  men  as  a  form 
of  religious  self-sacrifice  may  also  have  developed  in  the  same 
way  as  the  religious  practice  of  fasting  has  been  thought  to 
develop.  The  Chinese  practice  of  abstaining  from  sexual  inter- 
course during  mourning  is  interesting  in  this  connection.  De 
Groot  writes : 

"Golden  Bough,  Vol.  I,  p.  113. 

•*  Dulaure  describes  a  sacred  bas-relief  on  the  town-gate  of  one  of  the  towns  of 
Sisupatnam,  which  represents  a  crude  stage  of  male  sacrifice.  Sita,  the  goddess- 
wife  of  Vishnu,  is  being  worshiped  by  six  Indian  penitents  who  appear  to  be  offer- 
ing up  to  her  their  virile  members.  {Des  divinitis  geniratices,  p.  80.)  According 
to  Ovid  (Fast.,  4,  223),  priests  of  Attis  emasculated  themselves  because  of  the 
like  act  of  Attis.  The  myth  relates  that  Attis,  a  Phrygian  youth,  aroused  the  love 
of  the  goddess.  She  made  him  her  temple  servant,  and  made  him  take  a  vow 
of  absolute  chastity.  He  broke  his  vow  from  love  of  a  nymph,  and  then  from 
remorse  emasculated  himself. 


RELIGIOUS  DEDICATION  OF  WOMEN  621 

Mourning  in  ancient  China  meant  expropriating  one's  self  temporarily  of 
all  one's  possessions.  As  a  natural  consequence,  custom  then  required 
mourners  to  divest  themselves  for  a  time  also  of  their  wives  and  concubines, 
who  constituted  mere  objects  of  wealth." 

From  this  point  of  view,  conjugal  abstinence  during  mourning  is 
assimilated  to  fasting,  likewise  a  mourning  custom  in  China.  In 
view  of  the  fact  that  in  China  women  were  at  one  time  buried 
alive  with  their  masters,  may  not  conjugal  abstinence  be  a  worn- 
down  survival,  like  widow-chastity,  of  the  sacrifice  of  women  to 
deceased  relatives?  Again,  sexual  abstinence  by  women  under 
certain  circumstances  necessitates  the  same  sacrifice  by  men. 
How  this  may  occur  in  general  is  specifically  and  curiously  illus- 
trated by  the  myth  of  the  origin  of  Priapus-worship  at  Lampsacus. 
The  god's  attentions  to  the  women  of  that  town  angered  their 
husbands.  They  therefore  drove  him  away.  In  revenge,  Priapus 
inflicted  the  jealous  husbands  of  Lampsacus  with  venereal  disease, 
and  thereby  forced  them  to  re-establish  his  worship  in  their  city.'*" 
Implicit  throughout  all  of  the  foregoing  discussion  is  the 
view  that  religious  ideas  and  practices  are  determined  by  non- 
religious  social  relations.  It  seems  unnecessary  to  point  out  the 
converse  fact  that  religious  ideas  and  practices  vitally  affect  non- 
religious  social  relations.  The  interaction  is  constant.  The  prac- 
tice of  occasional  or  life-long  religious  chastity  by  men  and  women 
has  been  extremely  helpful  in  the  development  of  social  standards 
of  sexual  control.  Manu  *^  and  St.  Paul  *^  are  certainly  respon- 
sible for  untold  human  misery,  but  they  may  also  be  credited  with 
helping  to  give  a  religious  sanction  to  social  control  of  sexuality.*' 

*  The  Religious  System  of  China,  Vol.  II,  pp.  608,  609. 

*"  Dulaure,  op.  cit.,  p.  118. 

"  "  There  is  no  sin  in  ...  .  carnal  intercourse,  for  that  is  the  natural  way 
of  created  beings,  but  abstinence  brings  great  rewards."  {The  Laws  of  Manu, 
Vol.  V,  p.  56  ;   "  Books  of  the  East "  series.) 

""Art  thou  loosed  from  a  wife?  Seek  not  a  wife.  But  and  if  thou  marry, 
thou  hast  not  sinned ;  and  if  a  virgin  marry,  she  hath  not  sinned.  Nevertheless 
such  shall  have  trouble  in  the  flesh."     (i  Cor.  7:27,  28.) 

**  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  religious  sanction  for  chastity  may  develop 
even  in  phallic  worship.  Cicero  writes  that  from  the  Vestal  Virgins  women  may 
learn  that  the  purest  chastity  constitutes  the  perfection  of  their  nature  ("  sentiant 
mulieres  in  illis,  naturam  feminarum  omnem  castitatem  pati,"  De  Legibus,  II,  12). 
The    Peruvian    Sun-god,    like    all    Sun-deities,    had    a    phallic    character.      The 


622  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

As  the  chattel  character  of  women  begins  to  disappear,  the 
original  cause  and  safeguard  of  female  chastity  and  conjugal 
fidelity  —  i.  e.,  male  ownership  —  likewise  begins  to  disappear. 
At  this  point,  the  religious  sanction  which  had  already  been 
developed  under  the  system  of  male  ownership  is  an  important 
factor  in  developing  an  appreciation  of  chastity  and  conjugal 
fidelity  per  se.  This  is  only  one  of  the  many  cases  in  which  reli- 
gion seems  to  safeguard  the  products  of  a  social  means  that  is 
outgrown. 

In  following  out  the  evolutional  relations  between  the  blood- 
sacrifice  of  virgins,  the  lifelong  dedication  of  women  to  the  sexual 
service  of  gods,  the  dedication  of  perpetual  virginity  to  deity,  the 
practice  of  occasional  sexual  abstinence  as  a  sacrificial  rite,  the 
attribution  of  a  religious  sanction  to  both  male  and  female 
chastity,  we  discover  one  of  the  many  impressive  series  of  social 
factors  which  have  contributed  so  richly  to  the  development  of 
human  personality. 

original  character  of  phallicism  as  a  fertility  worship  must,  to  be  sure,  become 
considerably  effaced  to  allow  of  the  attachment  of  a  sanction  to  chastity  in  its 
connection.  Enhanced  reproduction  was  always  the  object  of  pure  phallicism. 
IJ^Note,  for  example,  in  this  connection,  that  the  priestesses  of  Priapus  in  Colophoo 
were  all  married  women:  Dulaure,  op.  cit.,  p.  121.)  Hence  the  dedication  of 
women  to  non-phallic  deities  would  be  more  apt  to  lead,  or,  at  any  rate,  would  lead 
more  quickly,  to  religious  celibacy,  than  the  dedication  of  women  to  primarily 
phallic  deities. 


SOCIOLOGICAL  CONSTRUCTION  LINES.    IV 


PROFESSOR  EDWARD  C  HAYES,  PH.D. 
Miami    University 


SECTION    VII.       IS    SOCIOLOGY    METAPHYSICAL?* 

If  social  phenomena  are  psychic,  is  sociology  therefore  meta- 
physical ?  Are  these  phenomena  too  inaccessible  to  observation  to 
be  successfully  studied  by  the  methods  of  science  without  aid 
from  those  of  metaphysics?  This  question,  having  been  raised 
and  emphasized,^  stands  at  this  point  across  our  path. 

Dr.  Fogel  asserts  that  for  adequate  study  of  social  phenomena 
there  is  required  some  other  method  of  approach  than  those 
known  to  natural  science ;  and  he  says : 

The  other  and  more  direct  mode  of  approach  is  through  appreciation. 
By  appreciation  I  mean  a  sympathetic  identification  of  the  subject  or  individual 
with  the  world  in  which  the  individual  sees  himself  as  an  agent  realizing  his 
world  in  an  experience  which  is  individual  for  himself.  He  thinks  himself  as 
part  of  the  stream  of  the  world-process,  and  so  looks  at  the  rest  of  this  stream 
as  like  himself  in  that  it  can  be  realized  by  him  just  as  he  realizes  his  own 
experience ;  or,  in  other  words,  he  is  at  fellowship  with  the  world,  so  that  the 
distinction  between  subject  and  object  is  no  longer  an  absolute  one.* 

This  use  of  the  word  "  appreciation  "  is  based  upon  the  meta- 
physical doctrine  of  Professor  Royce  —  the  doctrine,  namely,  that 
there  is  in  ultimate  truth  but  one  consciousness,  and  what  we  call 
conscious  individuals  are,  in  reality,  waves  of  one  vast  sea.  Or, 
to  employ  a  figure  of  Professor  Royce's,  souls  are  like  monads,, 
which  may  indeed  have  no  windows,  but  which  also  have  no  roofs, 
and  but  one  sky  into  which  all  look  up  and  see  each  other  reflected 
there.  Consciousness,  then,  is  not  a  strictly  individual  phenome- 
non, but  each  finite  self  is  so  much  of  the  absolute  self  as  comes  to 

*  This  topic  absorbs  the  present  section.  Discussion  of  the  other  questions 
raised  at  the  close  of  sec.  vi  will  follow  immediately. 

'  Philip  H.  Fogel,  "  Metaphysical  Elements  in  Sociology,"  American  Joumat 
of  Sociology,  November,   1904,  and  January,   1905. 

*  Amwican  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  X,  p.  356. 

623 


624  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

accentuated  consciousness  in  one  succession  of  localized  experi- 
ence. As  breathing"  the  air  in  my  room  I  breathe  of  the  air  that 
surrounds  the  planet,  so  in  living  my  life  I  share  in  the  life  of  the 
universe,  and  in  knowing  myself  I  know  both  God  and  all  men; 
and  this  direct  knowledge  is  "  appreciation."  Thus  "  we,  seem- 
ingly isolated  and  momentary  beings,  do  share  in  the  organic  life 
of  the  one  Self."  *  My  friend  "  is  real  to  me  by  virtue  of  our 
organic  unity  in  the  one  Self."**  The  appreciations  of  the  one 
spirit  "are  indeed  his  own,  for  he  is  alone,  and  there  is  none 
beside  him.  Yet  in  them  we  all  share,  for  that  fact  is  what  binds 
us  together."^  "A  and  B  are  in  their  actual  and  appreciable 
relations,  by  virtue  of  the  part  they  both  play,  in  the  inner  self- 
consciousness  of  the  organic  and  inclusive  self."  ^ 

We  are  told  that  certain  essential  spiritual  realities,  with  which 
sociology  must  deal,  can  be  known  only  by  this  method  of  appre- 
ciation. Says  Dr.  Fogel:  "When  we  get  to  the  real  study  of 
social  phenomena  and  want  to  get  the  inner  springs  of  sociality, 
we  must  go  to  appreciation,"  for  the  essential  objects  of  such  study 
"  are  beyond  the  sphere  of  description."  ^ 

Acordingly,  these  essential  realities,  which  are  revealed  by 
"appreciation,"  are  said  to  be  inaccessible  to  the  methods  of 
unmetaphysical  science  because  those  methods  can  deal  only  with 
what  is  " descrihahle,"  "permanent"  and  "public"^  And  the 
appreciable  realities  are  not  "  describable,"  because  they  do  not 
appear  in  the  categories  of  description,  such  as  space,  time,  simi- 
larity, difference,  and  causality.  Especially  they  are  not  caused, 
in  the  scientific  sense;  their  only  cause  is  "justification"  to  self- 
consciousness.  Their  categories  are  categories  of  interest,  worth, 
and  purpose,  and  such  categories  do  not  make  description  possible. 
They  are  not  "permanent,"  because  appreciation  is  a  fleeting 
experience  that  cannot  be  recalled  at  will,  and  remembered  in 
terms  of  unchanging  and  universally  valid  categories  of  experi- 
ence, as  can  the  objects  which  science  successfully  handles.  Nor 
are  they  "  public  "  in  the  sense,  essential  to  science,  of  being  open 

*  Royce,  Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy,  p.  407.  •  Ibid.,  p.  409. 

*Ihid.,  p.  41a.  *Loc.  cit.,  p.  374. 

'  Ihid.,  p.  413.  •  Royce,  op.  cit.,  pp.  383-9a- 


SOCIOLOGICAL    CONSTRUCTION  LINES  625 

alike  to  all  normal  observers  under  like  conditions,  but  the  knowl- 
edge gained  by  "  appreciation  "  is  peculiar  to  the  individual,  essen- 
tially private  and  incommunicable. 

The  aim  of  this  section  is  to  show  that  all  the  phenomena 
treated  by  sociology  are  accessible  to  purely  scientific  methods,  and 
that  it  is  entirely  unnecessary  to  the  purposes  of  sociology  that 
light  should  be  shed  on  these  phenomena  by  any  metaphysical 
doctrine. 

The  question  whether  the  category  of  causality  applies  to 
social  phenomena  will  meet  us  in  a  later  section,  and  therefore 
may  be  treated  lightly  here.  And  we  will  defer  to  the  latter  part 
of  this  section  the  inquiry  whether  the  teleological  nature  of 
sociology,  its  dealing  with  valuations  and  ideals,  requires  that 
scientific  method  shall  at  least  be  supplemented  by  a  "  philosophic 
method."  For  the  present  clearness  will  be  promoted  by  cc«ifining 
our  attention  to  the  question  whether  any  of  the  phenomena  essen- 
tial to  sociology  are  inaccessible  to  observation  and  description, 
and  whether  the  necessary  appreciation  of  human  experience- 
values  is  at  all  dependent  upon  any  metaphysical  doctrine  of  their 
ultimate  reality,  whether  such  appreciation  deals  with  anything 
but  phenomena  —  as  distinguished  from  the  metaphysical  realities 
that  may  be  conceived  to  underlie  phenomena,  or  requires  any 
"  other  mode  of  approach  "  than  observation  and  the  logical  pro- 
cesses familiar  to  pure  science.  By  answering  in  the  negative 
this  whole  group  of  questions  we  shall  maintain  that  it  only  pro- 
duces confusion  of  thought  to  speak  of  "metaphysical  elements 
in  sociology." 

We  should  have  expected  it  of  a  metaphysician  that  he  would 
hold  that  all  sciences  equally,  and  all  explanation,  rest  back  finally 
upon  metaphysical  conceptions,  and  also  that  he  would  avoid  even 
implying  a  contrast  between  scientific  and  metaphysical  methods, 
and  claim  rather  that  metaphysics  does  but  push  the  scientific 
methods  —  and  no  others  —  to  yield  their  last  drop  of  implication 
about  the  realities  that  are  beyond  phenomena. 

Let  us  set  out  by  re-emphasizing  the  importance  to  sociology 
of  emotions  and  motives,  of  the  affective  phase  of  human  experi- 


626  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ence.  And  let  us  heartily  admit  that  emotions  are  not  "  describ- 
able"  in  just  the  same  way  as  things,  or  as  ideas,  concepts  and 
deeds.  But  we  are  told  that  emotions  are  not  describable  at  all, 
because  they  do  not  appear  in  the  categories  of  description.  It  is 
true  they  have  no  spatial  dimensions,  but  neither  do  differentia- 
tion, correlation,  chemical  affinity,  ether,  gravitation,  and  other 
concepts  of  which  natural  science  makes  use,  and  which  are 
public  and  describable  objects  of  thought;  and  we  need  not  hasten 
to  admit  that  emotions  are  without  identifiable  resemblances  and 
differences,  or  that  they  do  not  exist  in  the  categories  of  time  and 
causality,  meaning  by  the  last  conditioning,  being  conditioned  and 
also  conditioning  effects.  We  are  told  also  that  emotions  are  not 
"  permanent,"  and  it  is  true  that  they  are  transient  and  unretum- 
ing  experiences.  They  do  not  return,  yet  others  of  the  same  kind 
may  be  experienced,  and  a  kind  of  emotion  is  a  distinct  and  per- 
manent concept  in  the  only  essential  sense,  for  it  can  he  recognized 
whenever  it  occurs  in  our  own  consciousness ;  otherwise  the  word 
"  anger "  or  "  fear "  would  be  meaningless  except  when  the 
speaker  is  consciously  angry  or  afraid.  We  are  told,  finally,  that 
emotions  are  not  "  public,'*  but  private.  And  it  is  true  that  they 
are  individual  and  in  one  sense  incommunicable.  But  human 
beings  are  so  similar  that  they  have  the  same  kinds  of  emotions. 
Moreover,  our  knowledge  that  our  associates  have  emotions  like 
our  own  is  not  due  to  metaphysical  insight,  but  is  a  direct  infer- 
ence from  observable  phenomena.  We  and  our  associates  are 
individuals  of  one  species,  products  of  a  common  evolution, 
inheriting  capacities  for  the  same  types  of  subjective  experience; 
and  we  manifest  our  experiences  by  conduct  that  is  common  to  the 
individuals  of  our  kind,  which  each  beholder  understands  because 
it  has  been  the  familiar  accompaniment  of  his  own  emotions,  and 
accepts  as  evidence  of  similar  emotions  in  his  associates.  And  it 
is  thus  that  we  become  convinced  that  our  neighbor  is  angry,  or 
afraid,  or  possessed  by  any  of  the  numerous  varieties  of  feeling 
that  we  learn  to  distinguish  in  ourselves  and  recognize  in  others, 
when  by  their  overt  conduct  men  display  the  various  emotions  that 
are  characteristic  of  man. 

The  publicity  and  scientific  tractability  of  emotional   phe- 


SOCIOLOGICAL    CONSTRUCTION  LINES  627 

nomena  are  dependent  on  the  inferred  similarity  of  the  experience 
of  different  individuals.  But  it  is  no  more  dependent  upon  it  than 
all  "  description."  "  Red  "  is  the  name  of  a  subjective  experience 
(referred  to  an  objective  cause).  Descriptive  words  like  "long" 
and  "true"  are  as  really  names  of  subjective  experience  as  words 
like  "  angry  "  and  "  afraid."  Concepts  and  propositions  exist  only 
in  consciousness,  and  all  description,  indeed  all  language,  is  based 
upon  the  supposed  similarity  of  human  experience  —  similarity  of 
perception  and  conception  in  case  of  the  objective,  similarity  of 
conscious  states  in  case  of  the  emotional  or  appreciative.  If  it 
were  still  objected  that  the  attempt  to  communicate  knowledge  of 
emotions  is  more  liable  to  misunderstanding  than  other  descrip- 
tion, because  we  differ  more  in  our  feelings  than  in  our  cognitive 
processes,  we  could  afford  to  admit,  if  necessary,  that  there  is  a 
difference  of  degree;  but  any  difference  on  this  account  is  only  in 
degree,  and  may  not  be  even  that.  Color-blindness  that  invali- 
dates the  universality  and  publicity  of  sense-perception  may  be  as 
common  as  any  equally  wide  departure  from  the  normal  in  the 
gfreat  common  human  emotions.  To  assume  uniformity  of  con- 
ception with  reference  to  the  supposedly  public,  scientific,  and 
purely  cognitive,  even  among  experts  in  description  and  argu- 
ment, may  occasion  serious  misunderstanding  as  often  as  it  does 
to  attribute  to  men  emotional  similarity.  Indeed,  when  men  are 
looked  at  in  broad  classes  in  a  way  to  suit  the  purposes  of  soci- 
ology, individual  emotional  idiosyncrasies  may  become  negligible. 
It  is  not  necessary  that  emotions  of  different  individuals  should 
be  identical,  any  more  than  it  is  elsewhere  essential  to  the  pur- 
poses of  science  that  specimens  of  the  same  species  should  be 
identical.  The  botanist  does  not  despair  because  specimens  of 
the  same  variety  of  plant  are  not  identical,  though  no  two  leaves 
in  all  June  be  quite  alike.  And  in  interpreting  the  observable 
evidence,  even  of  nice  emotional  differences  between  individual 
associates,  we  have  acquired  amazing  skill  that  warns  us  how  far 
to  trust  our  inference  of  the  emotional  similarity  of  man,  by  virtue 
of  which  the  motives  and  emotions  that  characterize  social  classes 
become  public,  as  revealed  in  overt  signs.  The  metaphysicians  do 
not  claim  that  we  are  especially  liable  to  error  when  we  take  the 


628  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

emotional  similarity  of  man  as  a  major  premise  for  all  our  inter- 
pretation of  the  emotional  meanings  of  his  speech  and  conduct. 
Instead,  they  claim  that  this  similarity  is  reliable.  And  if  we  are 
right  in  adding  that  all  the  "publicity"  of  other  knowledge  is 
equally  dependent  on  the  subjective  similarity  of  man,  then  where 
is  the  need  of  anything  more  metaphysical  in  our  appreciation  of 
each  other's  emotions  than  in  our  communication  of  the  descrip- 
tion of  a  tree  or  a  fish  ?  We  can  describe  to  each  other  a  tree  or 
an  emotion,  because  of  the  similarity  of  our  sense-perceptions  in 
the  one  case,  and  of  our  emotions  in  the  other.  In  both  cases 
alike  the  "publicity"  is  based  on  the  similarity.  The  known 
similarity  is  no  more  essential  and  no  more  metaphysical  in  the 
one  case  than  in  the  other.  And  in  neither  case  is  our  knowledge 
of  the  reliable  similarity  metaphysically  derived,  nor  due  to  meta- 
physical contributions  to  thought,  nor  peculiar  to  metaphysicians, 
but  common  to  all  normal  men. 

It  is  true  the  five  senses  give  us  no  direct  access  to  an  objective 
psychic  world.  We  cannot  smell  our  neighbor's  emotion,  nor 
touch  his  thought  with  our  fingers,  nor  taste  with  our  tongues  his 
interests ;  eyes  and  ears  are  affected  only  by  material  stimuli.  We 
are  in  direct  contact  with  the  psychic  only  in  our  own  conscious- 
ness. Yet  we  know  the  psychic  states  of  our  neighbors,  because 
we  witness  the  overt  manifestations  of  their  psychic  states,  and 
know  what  they  mean  because  we  know  what  we  should  mean  by 
similar  manifestations.  We  make  use  of  these  signs  as  expres- 
sions of  our  own  subjective  states,  and  we  know  by  the  responses 
we  elicit  that  our  own  subjective  states  have  been  correctly  appre- 
hended by  those  to  whom  these  signs  have  been  addressed. 

Each  self  has  an  insensible  psychic  half  and  a  sensible  physical 
half.  Selves  touch  and  overlap  and  mingle  in  their  sensible 
activities,  though  their  psychic  halves  are  isolated.  Each  under- 
stands the  sensible  activities  that  are  his  own,  as  related  to  his 
own  psychic  self.  Each  interprets  the  sensible  activities  of 
another,  as  similarly  related  to  the  other's  self.  Our  notion  of  the 
other  is  correct  in  proportion  as  this  inference  of  similarity  is  cor- 
rect. Though  this  inference  is  correct  in  the  main,  yet  we  are  not 
identical.    Though  representatives  of  one  species  and  the  offspring 


SOCIOLOGICAL    CONSTRUCTION  LINES  629 

of  a  common  physical  evolution,  we  differ  somewhat  in  tempera- 
ment, and  as  products  of  social  evolution  we  differ  more.  And  if 
two  persons  are  products  of  alien  societies,  then  they  do  not  share 
common  conventionalities  of  self-expression  and  "communica- 
tion." Yet  even  then  there  is  a  universal  language  of  visible 
expression  and  conduct.  Even  within  the  same  nation  and  the 
same  town  there  are  differences  of  social  development,  and  within 
the  same  family  differences  of  biological  inheritance;  but  the 
similarities  are  great  and  conspicuous,  and  the  differences  likely 
to  be  subtle  and  comparatively  minute.  However,  there  are  many 
persons  too  unlike  wholly  to  understand  each  other.  The  most 
prized  experiences  of  some  cannot  be  apprehended  by  other  some, 
and  that  which  we  most  hate  we  may  never  wholly  comprehend, 
unless  we  hate  it  having  disapproved  it  as  present  or  possible 
within  ourselves. 

In  the  process  of  human  intercourse  we  have  developed  to  a 
wonderful  degree  the  art  of  communication  so  as  to  be  able  to 
express  shades  of  difference,  and  have  acquired  skill  in  interpret- 
ing, in  terms  of  our  own  natures,  experiences  that  never  would 
have  been  original  to  ourselves.  Man  has  an  insatiable  interest  in 
the  psychic  activities  of  his  associates,  both  for  the  satisfaction  he 
takes  in  contemplating,  analyzing,  criticising,  and  appreciating 
them,  and  also  for  the  practical  necessity  of  understanding  this 
most  active,  helpful  or  harmful,  portion  of  his  environment. 
Where  interest  is  strong,  there  intellectual  power  and  skill 
develop ;  and  the  skill  of  men  in  understanding  each  other  is  per- 
haps the  highest  everyday  manifestation  of  intelligence.  It  may 
be  that  it  is  not  only  an  individual  skill,  but  also  an  instinct 
developed  by  the  social  necessities  of  the  race.  Desires  and  pur- 
poses are  not  only  divined  from  the  subtlest  signs,  but  also  fore- 
told before  they  are  formed.  And  even  when  men  deliberately  lie 
and  pretend,  employing  generally  understood  symbols  in  order  to 
deceive,  their  fellow-men  are  skilled  to  discover  not  only  the 
meaning  which  the  deceiver  intends  to  convey,  but  also  the  pres- 
ence of  deception  and  the  motives  of  the  fraud.  It  is  true  this 
skill  in  reading  one  another  breeds  corresponding  skill  in  dis- 
simulation, but  both  forms  of  skill  are  tributes  to  the  subtlety  with 


630  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

which  we  understand  each  other,  and  interpret  not  merely  words 
and  other  conventional  symbols,  and  deeds  that  are  intentionally 
overt,  but  also  subtle  revealers  of  emotions,  moods,  and  traits 
which  their  owners  never  meant  to  reveal,  but  endeavored  to  con- 
ceal. At  the  same  time,  the  too  frequent  success  of  lying  and  dis- 
simulation indicates  that  we  have  not  direct  access  to  the  conscious 
states  of  our  associates,  and  cannot  rest  back  upon  an  assumption 
of  the  metaphysical  identity  of  our  natures,  but  depend  for  our 
knowledge  of  each  other's  conscious  life  upon  our  interpretations 
of  sensible  tokens. 

A  great  p>ortion  of  the  world's  literature  exhibits  the  success 
with  which  the  emotional  phase  of  human  experience  can  be 
"described."  Conventionality  is  a  vast  monument  to  the  fact 
of  the  communication  of  psychic  meanings  by  physical  signs. 
And  many  of  the  signals  from  the  inner  life  which  we  learn  so 
accurately  to  read  are  far  too  subtle  to  be  conventionalized. 
Smiles,  frowns,  tones,  and  changes  of  the  facial  muscles,  too 
minute  to  be  described,  are  interpreted  unerringly.  One  reads  a 
passage  full  of  subtile  suggestion,  and  by  his  reading  proves  that 
he  has  felt  the  suggestion,  and  looking  up  he  sees  in  the  face  of  his 
listening  friend  that  the  friend  has  felt  it  too.  This  is  communion 
of  spirits  —  author,  reader,  and  friend.  Expressions  of  voice, 
countenance,  and  bearing,  numberless  and  fleeting,  are  included  in 
the  seemingly  inexhaustible  signal  code  that  reveals  the  rich 
variety  of  human  feeling.  They  are  mediums  for  the  admonish- 
ing or  cheering  influence  of  the  parent,  friend,  and  lover,  and 
instruments  of  the  power  of  the  man  of  prestige,  the  orator,  and 
the  commander.  Not  tears  and  sighs  alone,  but  the  slight  move- 
ment of  the  eyelid  and  the  almost  insensible  tension  of  the  person 
thrill  the  heart  of  the  observer,  and  awaken  trust  or  suspicion, 
love  or  hate,  fascination  or  contempt,  as  they  signal  the  presence 
of  affective  experiences  which  the  observer  is  prompt  to  recognize 
and  estimate  in  terms  of  his  own  subjectivity. 

Signs  which  we  have  learned  to  recognize  as  tokens  of  admi- 
rable or  despicable  traits  in  an  associate  may  arouse  strong  feelings 
before  we  have  formed  definite  notions  of  the  traits  of  the  indi- 
vidual in  question.     We  may  suspect  and  dislike,  or  incline  to 


SOCIOLOGICAL    CONSTRUCTION  LINES  631 

trust  and  admire,  a  person  whose  qualities  we  have  not  named. 
This  may  be  because  the  same  sig^  can  indicate  a  whole  class  of 
hateful  or  admirable  traits,  and  we  recognize  the  presence  of  the 
class,  amiable  or  hateful,  but  have  not  yet  learned  what  species  of 
the  class  confronts  us;  or  it  may  be  because  we  have  genuine 
instincts,  like  those  that  tell  the  animals  what  to  shun  and  what  to 
seek,  but  do  not  tell  them  why.  Instinct  might  well  survive  long- 
est to  guide  the  actions  that  deal  with  the  element  in  our  environ- 
ment which  is  both  most  important  to  our  welfare  and  most  diffi- 
cult to  analyze  and  understand,  namely,  our  associates. 

We  know,  then,  the  affective  experiences  of  our  associates  by 
their  observable  and  describable  manifestations,  interpreted  by  our 
knowledge  of  what  similar  expressions  and  conduct  of  our  own 
have  meant  emotionally.  These  manifestations  are  both  the 
intended  and  the  unintentional ;  both  the  larger  expressions  which 
we  call  conduct  and  the  minuter  ones  to  which  reference  has  been 
made.  Of  course,  the  speculator,  if  he  likes,  is  at  liberty  to  hold 
that  phenomena  in  general  are  nothing  real,  in  the  sense  in  which 
emotions  have  true  reality,  and  that  the  two  orders  of  appearance 
and  reality  are  not  woven  into  one  network  of  the  conditioning 
and  the  conditioned.  But  the  scientist  must  proceed  as  if  the 
observable  were  the  real,  and  the  cure  for  error  were  more  and 
better  observation;  and  so  proceeding,  he  will  say  that  some 
things  make  men  angry  and  that  others  make  them  glad,  and  that 
anger  and  gladness  make  men  behave  in  different  ways ;  in  other 
words,  that  we  can  observe  the  vividly  contrasting  effects  of  men's 
emotions,  of  avarice,  generosity,  pride,  humility,  courage,  fear, 
and  that  a  trustworthy  sociological  maxim  is :  "  By  their  fruits  ye 
shall  know  them."  And  if  we  know  emotions  by  their  effects,  they 
are  as  public,  describable,  and  open  to  tlie  scientific  method  as  is 
electricity,  which  we  know  by  its  effects  and  by  these  alone.  Pro- 
ceeding as  a  scientist  must  proceed,  we  know  the  emotions  of 
others  by  the  same  process  of  observation  and  inference  by  which 
we  get  other  scientific  knowledge.  If  this  process  did  not  include 
the  inference  of  the  similarity  of  individuals  of  the  same  species 
and  the  same  society,  then  we  should  know  them,  not  as  emotions, 
but  only  as  we  know  ether  and  electricity  —  that  is,  as  the  condi- 
tions of  certain  effects. 


632  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  metaphysician  may  add  that  we  know  them  also  by 
"  appreciation."  We  do  know  them  by  appreciation  of  our  own 
affective  states,  and  so  know  by  direct  consciousness  such 
examples  of  this  class  of  phenomena  as  our  own  experience 
affords,  and  we  can  observe  introspectively.  These  experiences 
are  not  less  true  phenomena  because  they  are  subjective.  Rather 
than  imply  that  the  subjective  is  not  phenomenal,  it  would  be  far 
truer  to  say  that  all  phenomena  are  subjective.  All  phenomena, 
all  manifestations  or  appearances,  exist  primarily  in  conscious- 
ness. Not  only  "red"  and  "long"  are  names  for  subjective 
experiences,  but  all  the  data  for  every  science  exist  first  in  con- 
sciousness, and  the  question  how  science  gets  its  grip  on  the 
external  world  is  by  so  much  harder  than  the  question  how  it 
gets  hold  of  the  subjective  activities  and  experiences  of  which 
it  has  both  direct  and  indirect  knowledge.  That  we  can  know 
such  phenomena  by  both  methods  certainly  does  not  make  our 
knowledge  of  them  less,  but  more,  scientific.  It  is  an  erroneous 
assumption  to  treat  psychic  phenomena  as  metaphysical  realities. 
All  realities  as  realities  are  metaphysical,  but  all  phenomena 
as  phenomena  are  matter  for  science.  This  is  the  true  distinc- 
tion. Of  course,  sociological  facts,  like  all  others,  may  run  back 
into  the  metaphysical,  and  this  is  no  evidence  that  more  than 
others  they  are  inaccessible  to  science,  nor  any  escape  from  the 
scientific  duty,  here  as  elsewhere,  to  trudge  the  path  of  knowledge, 
by  observation  and  inference,  just  as  far  as  we  can  before  taking 
to  the  wings  of  metaphysical  speculation.  In  inferring  that  other 
members  of  our  species,  whose  expressions  and  behavior  we 
observe,  feel  as  we  felt  when  under  like  conditions  we  acted  as  we 
see  them  do,  we  are  simply  comparing  and  inferring — that  is,  we 
are  applying  methods  of  science.  And  our  knowledge  of  the 
emotions  of  others  is,  in  fact,  a  result  of  this  procedure  without 
the  addition  of  any  metaphysical  assumption.  Appreciation  of  the 
experiences  of  associates  is  in  no  sense  confined  to  metaphysicians, 
still  less  to  the  school  of  metaphysicians  who  teach  "appreciation  " 
as  based  upon  the  doctrine  of  the  all-inclusive  consciousness,  and 
their  doctrine  cannot  compel  the  admission  of  metaphysical  ele- 
ments into  sociology.    The  sociologist,  as  a  sociologist,  must  study 


SOCIOLOGICAL    CONSTRUCTION  LINES  633 

emotional  phenomena,  in  so  far  as  such  phenomena  are  accessible 
to  the  methods  of  observation  and  inference. 

If  Dr.  Fogel  succeeds,  as  he  believes  he  does,  in  convicting  any 
sociologist  of  holding  "  that  the  only  sort  of  really  causal  energy 
in  social  phenomena  is  purely  physical  energy,"  ^^  may  not  this 
merely  indicate,  either  that  this  particular  sociologist  has  not  set 
forth  clearly  the  relation  of  sociology  to  metaphysical  concepts,  or 
possibly  that  Dr.  Fogel  has  not  so  perfectly  apprehended  the  soci- 
ologist's position  as  to  avoid  misunderstanding  ?  Misunderstanding 
would  be  invited,  or  perhaps  a  misconception  might  be  evinced, 
by  a  sociologist  who  should  say  that  physical  forces  and  social 
forces  are  one.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  might  not  the  expressions, 
which  are  said  to  imply  this,  in  reality  mean  precisely  what  the 
metaphysical  monist  means  when  he  asserts  that  there  is  but  one 
causal  energy  in  all  the  universe,  whose  oi)erations  appear  both  in 
physical  and  psychic  phenomena?  If  so,  then  sociologist  and 
metaphysician  will  agree  that  the  sociologist  has  not  to  recognize 
any  causal  energy  other  than  that  which  is  operative  in  the  physi- 
cal world.  As  the  biologist  no  longer  makes  reference  to  a  "  vital 
force,"  so  the  sociologist  need  make  no  reference  to  a  social  force. 
(This  requires  to  be  read  in  the  light  of  what  was  said  in  sec.  v.) 
The  notion  of  a  purely  scientific  sociology  that  has  been  here  set 
forth  is  not  open  to  this  line  of  attack  by  the  objector  who  would 
insist  upon  the  admission  of  metaphysical  elements  into  sociology. 
For  we  hold  that  sociology  does  not  need  to  teach  anything  about 
any  causal  energy  whatever,  but  only  about  phenomena  and  the 
conditioning  relations  among  them,  and  no  phenomena,  as  phe- 
nomena, are  metaphysical  elements,  neither  are  relations  among 
phenomena.  That  psychic  phenomena  are  true  phenomena  has 
been  maintained.  That  they  are  like  other  phenomena  in  that 
each  psychic  phenomenon  is  conditioned  by  other  phenomena,  and 
a  condition  of  other  phenomena,  we  shall  endeavor  to  maintain  in 
a  later  section. 

Dr.  Fogel  argues,  with  special  elaboration,  that  "  consciousness 
of  kind  "  involves  appreciation.  Let  us  admit  it ;  what  we  deny 
is  that  appreciation  involves  anything  more  metaphysical  than 

*  Loc.  cit.,  p.  502. 


634  THE  AMERICAN  fOVRNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

observation  of  conduct  like  our  own  and  inference  of  experience 
like  that  of  which  we  are  conscious.  Even  the  self-consciousness 
involved  is  not  metaphysical,  but  —  as  argued  above  —  is  as  true 
a  phenomenon  as  any  sense-percept.  Self-consciousness  for  the 
scientist  is  a  phenomenon  of  which  he  is  aware  without  the  inter- 
vention of  the  senses;  it  is  both  the  awareness  and  the  phenome- 
non, which  are  one.  With  the  metaphysical  nature  of  the  phe- 
nomenon, as  a  scientist,  he  has  nothing  to  do ;  and  his  knowledge 
of  it  no  more  implies  a  metaphysical  method  than  his  awareness 
of  the  external,  by  aid  of  sensation.  Introspection  is  a  variety 
of  observation.  Moreover,  the  trustworthy  conviction  of  the 
similarity  of  human  experience  is  not  dependent  on  any  meta- 
physical doctrine  of  "  our  organic  unity  in  the  one  Self ; "  it 
is  not  peculiar  to  those  who  hold  that  doctrine,  but  common  to  all 
normal  men,  the  trustworthiness  of  the  conviction  being  suffi- 
ciently authenticated  without  aid  from  any  metaphysical  element. 
Even  the  strongest  sympathy  which  aids  our  understanding  of  an 
associate  is  adequately  explained  by  the  unmetaphysical  process 
that  has  been  traced,  supplemented  by  the  fact  that  our  knowledge 
of  another's  situation  arouses  feelings  in  us  like  those  which  we 
believe  are  going  on  in  him,  since  an  imagined,  remembered,  or 
anticipated  situation  can  arouse  feelings  as  truly  as  an  actual  one. 
Neither  can  it  be  maintained  that  "  ejective  "  interpretation  of 
another's  experience  involves  a  metaphysical  element.  "Eject- 
ive "  interpretation  is  called  into  being  by  our  inability  to  secure 
knowledge  of  another's  affective  states  by  any  metaphysical  short- 
cut. That  we  form  "ejective"  interpretation  of  the  experience 
of  others  means  that  we  do  not  understand  the  experience  of 
another  until  we  have  had  the  like  (in  the  only  sphere  open  to  our 
direct  appreciation,  that  is)  in  our  own  consciousness;  and  there- 
after, when  we  see  another  in  similar  conditions,  and  manifesting 
activities  similar  to  those  which  accompanied  our  own  experience, 
we  infer  that  he  is  having  an  experience  like  the  one  we  had  when 
we  were  in  such  conditions  and  acting  as  he  does;  or,  in  other 
words,  we  eject  our  knowledge  of  our  own  previous  experience  as 
an  explanatory  element,  into  our  notion  of  him.  If  he  is  stung 
by  a  wasp,  and  the  spot  gjows  swollen  and  red  with  a  white  center, 


SOCIOLOGICAL    CONSTRUCTIOV  LINES  635 

and  he  jumps  up  and  down,  and  cries  out,  and  says  it  smarts  fear- 
fully, we  infer  that  he  feels  as  we  felt  when  we  were  stung  by  such 
an  insect,  showed  such  symptoms,  and  acted  in  a  similar  way. 
This  does  not  require  a  metaphysician.  By  similar  comparison 
and  inference  are  interpreted  the  signs  of  hope,  fear,  anger,  love, 
cowardice,  enthusiasm,  greed,  and  benevolence  that  are  intelligible 
to  all  who  in  themselves  have  known  the  like,  without  aid  from 
any  more  mysterious  means  of  communion  than  the  most  unmeta- 
physical  sociologist  admits. 

We  accept  the  analysis  of  "consciousness  of  kind"  and 
"ejective"  interpretation  of  others  which  seems  to  Dr.  Fogel  to 
imply  metaphysical  elements,  but  question  whether  that  seeming 
would  appear  to  one  who  had  no  predilection  for  discovery  of 
metaphysical  elements.  We  heartily  agree  with  the  statement  that 
"  understanding  others  by  reading  my  own  experience  into  them 
is  indispensable; "  ^^  but  what  a  leap  to  the  conclusion  that  follows 
in  the  next  sentences: 

Consequently,  to  get  at  societary  facts  it  is  a  necessary  preliminary  that 
the  subject  connect  himself  vitally  with  the  world  of  his  investigation,  so  that 
he  feels  himself  a  part  of  that  world  as  having  fellowship  with  it.  And  here 
we  are  beyond  doubt  in  the  world  of  appreciation,  and  so  in  the  preserves  of 
metaphysics. 

Dr.  Fogel  also  argues  that  "imitation"  requires  "apprecia- 
tion "  as  metaphysically  conceived.  But  is  it  not  enough  for  the 
imitator  to  see  the  outer  act  and  its  observable  consequences  ?  To 
see  the  overt  act  affords  the  idea  of  the  act,  the  idea-motor  sug- 
gestion which  alone  is  essential  to  the  simpler  form  of  imitation. 
To  see  the  act  and  its  desirable  objective  consequences  —  the  nut 
cracked  by  the  blow,  the  weight  lifted  by  the  lever  —  is  enough  to 
afford  the  idea  of  the  act  as  a  means,  and  appeal  to  motives  for 
intelligent  imitation.  To  appreciate  our  own  experience  in  situa- 
tions of  a  given  sort  is  enough  to  afford  motives  to  imitate  one 
who  creates  such  situations.  For  example,  the  applauded  orator. 
Not  only  the  simpler  ideo-motor  form  of  imitation,  but  also  its 
higher  forms,  do  not  require  that  we  metaphysically  "  appreciate  " 
the  experience  of  the  person  imitated  by  recognizing  our  "  organic 

"Loc.  cit.,  p.  371. 


I 


636  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

unity  in  the  one  Self."  On  the  contrary,  according  to  the  theory 
of  "ejective"  interpretation,  approved  by  metaphysicians,  before 
we  can  appreciate  the  experience  of  the  person  imitated,  we  must 
first  by  imitation  make  the  experience  our  own;  after  that  we 
attribute  to  the  one  imitated  experience  like  that  which  we  have 
secured  by  imitating  him,  and  so  for  the  first  time  comprehend  the 
inward  feel  of  that  which  we  imitated  as  an  outward  act,  either 
for  the  sake  of  the  outward  act,  for  the  sake  of  the  outward  conse- 
quences of  the  act,  or  for  the  sake  of  inward  experiences  which  we 
inferred  from  our  own  previous  experience  would  accompany  the 
outward  conditions  imitated. 

To  summarize:  We  have  frankly  admitted  the  important 
differences  between  the  phenomena  of  consciousness  and  other 
phenomena.  We  have  admitted,  moreover,  the  differences 
between  the  affective,  and  the  cognitive  and  volitional,  elements  in 
experience,  and  that  there  is  a  sense  in  which  affective  experience 
is  neither  describable,  permanent,  nor  public;  that  the  affective 
phase  of  experience  is  simply  our  own  appreciation  of  our  own 
states  of  consciousness,  and  that  the  emotional  quality  of  social 
phenomena  would  never  be  known  by  a  being  who  himself  had 
never  felt  emotion.  But  we  do  feel  emotions  of  our  own,  and 
are  therefore  qualified  to  recognize  the  same  varieties  of  emotion 
as  evinced  by  others.  And  the  self-knowledge  that  arises  intro- 
spectively  in  our  own  consciousness  is  as  truly  matter  of  observa- 
tion as,  and  no  more  metaphysical  (in  the  sense  of  non-scientific) 
than,  the  knowledge  that  gets  into  consciousness  through  the 
medium  of  sensation.  And  the  emotional  life  of  the  society  to 
which  we  belong — its  patriotism,  its  enthusiasms  and  aversions — 
constitute  a  part  of  what  we  justly  call  the  objective  psychic 
world,  though  it  may  be  the  subtlest  part,  least  easy  to  discern. 
For  purposes  of  science,  socially  prevalent  varieties  of  emotion 
are,  first,  "describable"  inasmuch  as  they  exist  in  time,  can  be 
identified  and  named,  and  to  all  appearance  (and  the  scientist  has 
to  do  only  with  appearance,  and  his  business  is  to  describe  the 
phenomena  which  appear  in  their  apparent  relations)  they  arise 
out  of  observable  conditions  and  issue  in  observable  effects ;  and, 
second,  they  are  "  permanent,"  inasmuch  as  emotion,  though  it  be 


SOCIOLOGICAL    CONSTRUCTION  LINES  637 

one's  own  transient  experience,  and  in  a  sense  incapable  of  being 
remembered,  is  nevertheless  remembered  in  this  sense,  that  one 
recalls  the  time  of  his  emotion,  his  own  place  at  the  time,  the  fact 
that  he  had  an  emotion  of  a  kind  which  he  conceives,  names,  and 
identifies  whenever  the  like  occurs,  and  also  recalls  the  conditions 
that  appear  to  him  to  have  occasioned  his  emotion  (and  at  the 
remembrance  of  them  a  like  emotion  may  return,  sometimes  even 
more  intense),  and  one  recalls  the  conduct  which  appeared,  and 
still  appears,  to  him  to  have  resulted  from  the  emotion ;  and,  third, 
since  one  can  so  far  describe  his  own  or  another's  emotions  as  to 
convey  by  language  all  this  which  one  keeps  in  remembrance,  can 
indeed  convey  all  this  just  as  well  as  what  we  call  the  description 
of  a  percept  can  be  conveyed,  therefore  descriptions  do,  in  this 
sense,  make  emotional  phenomena  "public"  by  similarity  of 
testimony,  as  well  as  that  result  is  accomplished  by  the  kind  of 
remembrance  and  description  which  applies  to  material  things, 
especially  since  the  apparent  conditions  and  effects  of  emotion  are 
open  to  the  concurrent  observation  of  the  members  of  a  society. 
It  is  true  that  an  observer  with  no  subjective  experience  like  that 
of  man  could  conceive  or  describe  man's  subjectivity  only  in 
terms  of  its  time,  place,  occasions,  and  effects,  and  the  affective 
quality  of  it  would  escape  him.  He  would  not  know  how  men 
feel.  But  we  infer  that  other  individuals  of  our  species  feel  as  we 
should  have  to,  in  order  to  act  as  they  do  under  their  conditions ; 
that  they  experience  the  varieties  of  feeling  that  we  have  experi- 
enced and  can  conceive.  Consequently,  description  conveys  to  us 
the  same  kind  of  knowledge  of  their  emotions  that  we  have  of  our 
own  past  emotions.  And  this  knowledge  is  often  reinforced  by 
the  fact  that  our  imagination  of  their  situation  arouses  actual 
present  emotion  in  us,  like  that  which  we  believe  was  theirs.  The 
description  of  emotions  is  dependent  upon  the  inference  of  sub- 
jective similarity  in  man;  but  no  whit  more  so  than  is  that  other 
description  which  conveys  knowledge  from  one  mind  to  another 
mind  because  both  minds  are  capable  of  similar  cognitive  states, 
and  assign  to  words  similar  meanings.  Moreover,  our  knowledge 
of  this  similarity  is  not  due  to  any  mystic,  metaphysical  insight, 
but  is  a  true  inference  from  the  premises,  including  the  biological 


I 


638  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

unity  of  the  human  species.  This  inference  is  reinforced  experi- 
mentally ;  that  is,  the  validity  of  the  interpretations  based  upon  it 
are  continually  tested  in  practice,  as  when  we  let  our  associates 
know  how  we  have  understood  their  conduct,  and  they  testify  that 
we  have  correctly  apprehended  their  emotional  states;  and  when 
we  know  by  the  responses  that  we  elicit  that  our  signaling  of  our 
own  feelings  has  been  understood ;  and  when,  in  order  to  produce 
changes  in  human  conduct,  we  form  judgments  as  to  the  motives 
from  which  such  conduct  issues,  and  the  motives  that  will  prompt 
conduct  desired,  and,  by  providing  the  conditions  which  we  infer 
will  affect  liuman  motives,  find  it  possible  to  interrupt  conduct 
which  we  desire  to  terminate,  and  to  evoke  conduct  the  motives 
for  which  we  have  supplied.  In  all  this  there  is  nothing  involved 
but  phenomena,  including  the  phenomena  of  our  own  conscious- 
ness and  the  apparent  relations  of  phenomena,  and  therefore 
nothing  metaphysical,  and  no  question  of  the  absolute  reality 
which  underlies  these  appearances. 

Near  the  opening  of  this  section  we  dismissed  for  the  time  two 
of  the  three  questions  that  are  raised  by  examining  sociology  from 
the  metaphysician's  point  of  view.  We  have  now  discussed  the 
question :  Must  social  phenomena  be  studied  by  any  non-scientific 
metaphysical  method  of  approach,  or  can  they  be  studied  satis- 
factorily by  the  scientific  methods  of  observation,  comparison,  and 
inference?  The  second  question.  Are  social  phenomena  caused? 
has  received  only  incidental  attention,  and  will  meet  us  again  here- 
after. The  third  question  demands  the  remainder  of  this  section, 
namely:  Does  the  teleological  nature  of  sociology,  its  dealing 
with  valuations  and  ideals,  require  us  to  resort  to  a  non-scientific 
"  philosophic  method  "  ?  We  are  told  that  what  is  is  matter  for 
science,  but  what  ought  to  be  is  matter  for  philosophy ;  that  phe- 
nomena we  can  see  and  describe,  but  "  meanings  "  and  "  values  " 
we  can  only  appreciate ;  therefore  they  are  not  matters  of  science, 
but  of  philosophy  or  metaphysics. 

Upon  this  third  question  the  position  here  offered  for  con- 
sideration is  as  follows :  Our  views  of  the  "  meanings  "  and 
"  values  "  of  things  are  not  to  be  deduced  from  our  metaphysical 


SOCIOLOGICAL   CONSTRUCTION  LINES  639 

theory  of  the  nature  of  the  absolute  reality  which  expresses  itself 
in  phenomena;  but  it  is  to  be  derived  inductively  from  the  phe- 
nomena themselves,  the  phenomena  "  I-value-this "  and  "This- 
means-much-to-me "  being  as  true  phenomena  as  any.  From 
observing  such  phenomena,  as  we  are  conscious  of  them  in  our- 
selves and  aware  of  them  as  revealed  by  others,  we  are  to  arrive  at 
our  general  statements  about  "meanings"  and  "values,"  and 
not  by  deduction  from  our  view  concerning  "  the  final  goal "  of  the 
universe  "reduced  to  unity." ^^  If  anyone  is  able  by  some  other 
process  than  observation  and  comparison  of  phenomena — that  is, 
by  other  than  scientific  method  —  to  arrive  at  a  verifiable  view  of 
the  final  goal  of  creation  from  which  he  can  deduce  teachings  con- 
cerning the  values  and  valuations  involved  in  human  life,  then  we 
are  glad  to  have  him  do  so.  But  as  sociologists  we  cannot  do  so: 
nor  so  long  as  the  method  of  observation  is  open  to  us  do  we  pro- 
pose to  depend  on  deductions  from  merely  speculative  views  of  the 
goal  of  being.  We  admit  that  our  results  will  apply  only  within 
the  sphere  of  human  observation;  but  as  human  beings,  not  to- 
say  as  sociologists,  we  are  content  to  understand  the  worth  and 
meaning  of  things  to  human  beings,  and  within  the  realm  of 
human  observation  and  experience,  and  not  to  stretch  out  after  the 
meanings  involved  in  the  total  unity  of  creation  in  which  human 
experience  plays  a  part. 

The  values  and  valuations  that  are  disclosed  to  human  com- 
prehension in  human  experience  are  nothing  but  valuings,  unless 
we  include  also  the  phenomena  which  men  value.  The  valuing^ 
are  appreciations  of  experience,  they  are  phenomena  of  conscious- 
ness, and  as  true  phenomena,  and  so  as  really  matter  for  science, 
as  the  objective  things  that  men  value.  Whether  the  things 
valued  are  objective  things,  or  thoughts,  volitions,  or  other  phe- 
nomena of  consciousness,  it  is  not  the  things  valued,  but  the 
valuings,  that  are  in  this  connection  the  significant  phenomena. 

Valuing  is  a  phase  or  element  or  quality  in  every  state  of  con- 
sciousness which  man  can  pronounce  good.  Such  valuings  are 
perhaps  the  most  significant  of  social  phenomena.  Like  other 
social  phenomena,  they  are  psychic.     Like  other  psychic  phe- 

'^  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  X,  p.  355. 


\ 


640  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

nomena,  they  are  not  only  known  in  consciousness  as  subjective, 
but  are  also  known  as  objective,  being  revealed  by  associates  to 
associates  by  all  the  methods  of  self-revelation  that  have  been 
mentioned  in  this  section. 

Accordingly,  the  question,  "  What  is  of  worth  ?  "  is  answered 
empirically  by  answering  the  question,  "What  do  men  value?" 
and  the  relative  value  of  different  experiences  is  determined  by  the 
concurrent  testimony  of  the  competent,  as  questions  are  answered 
about  other  phenomena  that  are  public  and  describable. 

It  is  true  that  the  only  competent  witnesses  concerning  the 
value  of  a  given  kind  of  experience  are  those  who  have  had  such 
experience,  but  it  is  equally  true  that  the  only  competent  witnesses 
concerning  a  kind  of  external  phenomena  are  those  who  have 
observed  them.  No  single  individual  is  a  competent  witness  con- 
cerning external  phenomena  that  he  has  not  observed,  any  more 
than  concerning  valuings  that  he  has  not  experienced.  A  witness 
can  tell  how  a  given  experience  that  he  has  had  compares  in  value 
with  other  experiences  that  he  has  had.  Man  is  the  measure  of  all 
things  —  that  is,  of  all  experience  —  only  when  he  has  had  all 
kinds  of  experience.  But  each  can  observe  his  own  valuings  and 
—  in  the  sense  explained  above  —  he  can  describe  them.  Some 
kinds  of  valuings  are  so  universal  that  practically  all  men  are 
competent  to  testify  concerning  them.  Other  kinds  of  valuings 
are  less  nearly  universal,  yet  those  who  have  experienced  them  can 
sufficiently  describe  them  so  that  others,  who  have  never  had  the 
like,  can  desire  them  and  be  taught  to  seek  them.  Those  are  the 
most  competent  witnesses  concerning  human  valuings  whose 
experience  has  been  richest,  especially  in  those  types  of  worth- 
experience  which  are  higher  than  others  by  common  consent  of 
those  who  have  had  these  particular  types  of  experience  together 
with  the  widest  range  of  other  worth-experiences  with  which  to 
compare  them. 

It  is  true,  as  above  set  forth,  that  the  affective  element  in 
valuation  cannot  be  described  in  the  same  way  as  external  phe- 
nomena. But  it  can  be  named,  and  its  presence  and  its  kind  can 
therefore  be  expressed  in  the  form  of  a  judgment,  and  the  affec- 
tive element  is  regularly  an  element  in  an  experience  all  of  which 


SOCIOLOGICAL   CONSTRUCTION  LINES  641 

can  be  described  except  the  affective  element,  and  then  the  affective 
element  may  be  said  to  have  been  made  intelligible  to  all  who  have 
had  a  similar  total  experience ;  for  it  is  inferred  that  the  affective 
element,  in  case  of  the  person  describing,  was  similar  to  that 
which  had  been  known  by  the  listener  when  the  listener  had  the 
similar  experience.  The  degree  of  error  to  which  we  are  liable  in 
this  inference  of  similarity,  when  the  description  of  experiences 
and  naming  of  emotions  are  supplemented  by  all  the  subtle  means 
of  self-revelation,  has  been  sufficiently  discussed  above. 

What  in  human  experience  is  of  worth?  is  a  great  scientific 
question.  There  are  numerous  kinds  of  worth,  and  an  adequate 
conception  of  them  involves  the  concept  of  a  proportioned  har- 
mony of  these  elements  into  a  whole  thought  of  the  worth  of  life. 
To  arrive  at  such  a  thought  of  life  is  an  intellectual  achievement. 
The  method  of  the  achievement  is  not  deduction  from  a  concept 
of  the  "  final  goal  of  creation  reduced  to  an  absolute  unity,"  but  is 
induction  from  much  knowledge  of  human  valuings.  Indeed,  a 
concept  of  the  goal  of  creation  cannot  be  arrived  at  by  any  other 
method  than  such  an  induction,  whether  it  be  the  unconscious 
induction  from  a  narrow  range  of  experience,  which  may  be  only 
prejudice,  however  high-sounding  the  phrases  in  which  it  is 
arrayed,  or  whether  it  be  a  conscious  induction  from  a  wide  range 
of  human  experience,  which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  a  fruit  of  scien- 
tific method. 

If  specific  valuings  are  experiences,  and  all  our  standards  and 
judgments  concerning  values,  and  our  concept  of  the  whole  and 
harmonious  life,  are  fruits  of  experience,  then,  a  fortiori,  our 
judgments  concerning  overt  acts  are  empirically  derived.  That 
conduct  is  good  which  is  the  condition  of  experience  that  is  valu- 
able, and,  "What  conduct  is  it  that  leads  to  experience  that  is 
valuable?"  is  a  question  that  can  be  answered  only  by  experi- 
ence. That  conduct  is  good  which,  "  on  the  whole,"  and  "  as  far 
as  we  can  see,"  and  "  taking  into  account  all  the  interests  affected," 
augments  the  value  of  experience.  And  that  conduct  is  bad  which, 
thus  broadly  considered,  appears  to  make  the  value  of  experience 
less  than  it  would  be  made  by  other  conduct. 

Only  a  few  are  able  to  form  judgments  of  such  broad  and 


642  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

far-sighted  expediency  —  judgments  which  neither  unreasonably 
discount  the  future  and  the  unintended  result,  nor  excessively 
regard  the  clamorous  interests  of  the  immediate  actors,  and  which 
are  so  general  in  their  application  as  to  forearm  man  to  meet  the 
vicissitudes  in  which  he  must  play  his  part.  Only  the  few  are  able 
to  make  any  valuable  contribution  toward  the  equipment  of  duty- 
judgments  prevalent  in  the  society  of  which  they  are  members. 
After  these  judgments  of  the  wisest,  most  far-sighted  and  con- 
structive minds  have  become  traditionally  accepted  rules  of  duty, 
they  are  enforced  by  priests,  potentates,  and  teachers  of  a  lesser 
caliber.  These  enforce  the  traditionally  accepted  duty-code  of 
their  society  by  appeal  to  every  conceivable  sanction  natural  and 
supernatural,  enforce  them  by  the  smiles  and  frowns  that  greet 
the  earliest  choices  and  impulsive  acts  of  childhood,  enforce  them 
by  the  continuous  pressure  of  the  social  approvals  and  disapprovals 
in  which  we  are  immersed  as  in  an  atmosphere,  enforce  them  by 
the  self -approval  and  remorse  that  turn  in  upon  ourselves  the 
judgments  which  we  have  learned  to  pass  upon  others,  and  enforce 
them,  and  at  the  same  time  explain  them  after  the  manner  of  the 
prescientific  metaphysical  stage  of  thought,  by  calling  them 
instincts  of  our  nature,  finger-marks  of  God,  corollaries  deduced 
from  the  nature  of  the  absolute.  There  is  a  true  sense  in  which 
every  broad  and  far-sighted  judgment  of  expediency  is  a  corollary 
of  the  nature  of  things,  even  though  man  has  derived  his  knowl- 
edge of  that  law  of  conduct  experimentally  from  his  own  failures 
and  successes,  and  not  from  antecedent  knowledge  of  the  absolute 
nor  from  implanted  instinct.  It  is  the  business  of  sociology,  not  to 
bar  the  path  of  investigation  with  a  metaphysical  abstraction,  with 
a  big  word  instead  of  an  explanation,  a  stone  offered  to  the  hunger 
of  the  mind,  but  to  investigate,  that  is,  to  apply  the  methods  of 
science  to  answering  the  question :  Whence  come  the  traditionally 
accepted  and  socially  enforced  judgments  of  conduct;  why  do 
they  differ  in  different  eras  and  in  different  societies;  and  how, 
from  having  first  prescribed  duties  only  toward  the  members  of 
the  group  within  which  they  arose,  leaving  liberty  to  steal  with  a 
clear  conscience,  or  even  with  a  sense  of  merit,  the  property  or  the 
wife  or  the  head  of  any  member  of  another  group,  do  they  finally 


SOCIOLOGICAL   CONSTRUCTION  LINES  643 

extend  in  scope  till  they  inculcate  the  universal  brotherhood  of 
man?  And  sociology  must  approach  in  the  scientific  spirit  not 
only  the  question  :  Have  existing  moral  judgments  a  natural  his- 
tory, and,  if  so,  how  can  it  be  traced?  but  also  the  further  ques- 
tion :  Do  these  existing  moral  requirements  actually  prescribe  the 
wisest  judgments  of  expediency;  and,  if  not,  can  they  be  amended 
so  as  better  to  reveal  the  method  of  more  complete  and  harmonious 
experience  within  the  conditions  of  actual  society?  If  the  pre- 
vailing judgments  of  value  have  a  natural  history,  it  is  a  history 
of  social  evolution;  if  progress  in  the  formation  of  such  judg- 
ments is  still  possible,  what  else  can  that  progress  be  than  the 
discovery  of  the  method  of  the  conditioning  of  experience,  all  of 
which  is  socially  conditioned,  and  all  of  which  in  turn  constitutes 
the  social  conditions? 

Everyone  admits  that  hypothetical  imperatives  are  inductions 
from  experience.  The  sociologist  has  nothing  to  do  with  any 
but  hypothetical  imperatives.  And  he  should  proceed  upon 
the  hypothesis  that  all  the  rational  imperatives  governing  human 
action,  when  thoroughly  understood,  will  be  seen  to  be  hypothet- 
ically  justified;  that  is,  they  will  be  seen  to  prescribe  the  means  to 
an  end  that  is  worth  while  —  an  end  the  worth  of  which  can  be 
apprehended  by  men,  value  to  be  realized  in  human  experience. 
Either  this  is  true,  or  human  life  is  necessarily  a  sacrifice  to  a 
world-end  outside  of  man ;  or  else  it  has  no  rational  end,  and  life 
is  a  nightmare,  and  the  search  for  a  reasoned  law  of  conduct  is 
vain.  No  one  is  justified  in  adopting  the  pessimistic  conclusion 
that  the  conscious  life  of  man  has  no  rational  end,  nor  the  semi- 
pessimistic  conclusion  that  man's  earthly  experience  has  no  end  in 
itself,  and  no  meaning  save  as  a  part  of  a  larger  world-order  that 
is  beyond  the  scope  of  human  observation,  until  the  attempt  to 
discover  the  end  in  human  experience  has  been  exhausted  and  has 
failed.    No  one  shall  warn  us  off  from  that  attempt. 

Moreover,  even  though  there  be  also  an  end  attained  by  human 
life  which  is  not  in  human  life,  certain  it  is  that  there  are  values  in 
human  experience.  If  they  do  not  constitute  the  whole  of  the 
rational  end  of  human  action,  they  are  at  least  a  definite  and 
highly  important  class  of  phenomena,  the  complex  and  peculiar 


644  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

conditioning  of  which  can  be  investigated.  This  justifies  the 
existence  of  a  special  science  of  human  valuings  to  study  their 
rise,  to  compare  them  with  each  other,  to  formulate  out  of  the 
elements  furnished  by  experience  a  more  and  more  adequate  con- 
cept of  them  in  their  harmony  and  completeness,  and  in  the  light 
of  experience  to  distinguish  those  forms  of  conduct  which  are 
promotive  of  human  values  from  those  that  destroy,  disorganize, 
and  degrade  life  by  preventing  the  realization  of  such  value- 
phenomena. 

If  the  laws  of  conduct  thus  derived  were  subject  to  higher  laws 
involved  in  a  nature-of-things  not  revealed  in  human  experience, 
then,  if  anybody  could  by  any  possibility  get  at  the  content  of  such 
absolute  laws,  they  would  be  superior  to  the  laws  prescribing  the 
conduct  conducive  to  human  experience-values.  The  latter  would 
be  only  laws  for  the  attainment  of  a  part  which  is  subject  to  the 
greater  whole,  just  as  the  so-called  laws  of  political  economy,  in 
so  far  as  they  are  guides  to  conduct,  are  subject  to  ethical  laws. 
As  economics  is  a  science  of  a  part,  so  the  science  of  human 
experience-values  would  then  be  a  science  of  a  part,  yet  a  true 
science,  since  human  experience-values  are  a  distinct  kind  of 
phenomena  rising  from  a  special  complexus  of  conditioning.  And 
we  do  not  admit  that  any  other  values  of  which  they  can  be  a  part 
is  discoverable  to  human  intelligence,  but  maintain  that  the  whole 
harmony  of  values  realizable  in  human  experience  is  the  highest 
and  largest  end  that  can  be  formulated  by  human  intelligence  for 
the  guidance  of  human  action;  that  ethics  is  the  formulation  of 
that  concept  and  discovery  of  the  method  of  the  conditioning  of 
those  values. 

If  this  be  true,  or  even  if  it  be  true  that  the  human  experience- 
values,  though  subordinate  to  some  world-end,  are  yet  proper 
objects  of  science,  and  our  knowledge  of  them  founded  upon 
observation  and  inference,  then  any  trustworthy  concept  of  pos- 
sible values  must  be  an  induction  from  knowledge  of  that  which 
already  has  been,  though  the  induction  may  outrun  all  that  ever 
was  in  any  single  instance,  gathering  elements  from  the  widest 
observation,  and  inferring  the  possibility  of  new  combinations 
from  knowledge  of  fragmentary  realizations.    The  thought  of  the 


SOCIOLOGICAL    CONSTRUCTION  LINES  645 

values  of  human  experience  in  their  completeness  and  harmony 
is  an  object  of  scientific  quest,  and  likewise  the  laws  of  conduct 
tending  toward  that  end  are  as  much  so  as  the  laws  of  condition- 
ing of  any  other  phenomena.  Such  conduct  and  experience  must 
be  social  conduct  and  experience;  its  conditioning  must  be  social 
conditioning;  such  life  must  be  socially  realized;  such  science 
must  be  sociology  —  science  in  the  sense  which  these  papers  try 
to  explain.  Though  it  is  true  that  the  logical  processes  are  the 
same  in  all  science,  yet  the  application  of  them  must  be  adapted  to 
the  nature  of  the  phenomena  investigated.  The  sciences  of  the 
psychic  can  never  enter  upon  the  Blutezeit,  prophesied  by  Wundt 
and  Haeckel,  until  sociologists  cease  merely  to  carry  over  the 
mental  habits  developed  by  studies  of  the  non-psychic,  and  to  test 
the  scientific  character  of  their  work  merely  by  comparing  it  with 
the  work  of  physicists  and  biologists.  Forgetting  those  things 
that  are  behind,  yet  remembering  all  things  that  are  behind,  they 
must  press  toward  the  mark  of  a  higher  calling.  They  must  avoid 
the  strabismus  that  is  due  to  looking  with  one  eye  at  the  physical 
while  they  look  with  the  other  at  the  psychic,  focus  attention  upon 
psychic  phenomena,  find  in  them  their  problems  and  see  what 
these  phenomena  are,  not  what  they  resemble,  what  courses  of 
investigation  they  require,  not  how  far  the  devices  of  investigation 
developed  by  other  sciences  can  be  applied  to  them.  Then  ethics, 
the  study  of  life,  may  pass,  as  the  study  of  material  phenomena 
has  passed,  from  the  metaphysical  into  the  scientific  stage.  Who 
would  obstruct  the  endeavor  to  speed  the  day,  or  despair  before 
the  effort  has  been  fairly  made? 

Motives  to  right  conduct  deduced  from  notions  of  the  absolute 
have  only  a  speculative  foundation  save  as  the  name  "  absolute  " 
is  given  to  doctrines  derived  by  induction  from  experience  of  life. 
It  may  be  true,  as  we  are  warned,  that  sanctions  of  authority  are 
crumbling  away.  If  so,  we  must  hope  that  the  demands  of 
authority  will  be  reaffirmed  or  replaced  by  the  motives  of  enlight- 
enment. 

[To  he  continued^ 


NOTES  ON  EDUCATION  FOR   SOCIAL  EFFICIENCY 


PROFESSOR    M.   V.    O'SHEA 
University  of  Wisconsin 


We  are  hearing  much  in  our  day  about  the  "  anti-social "  traits 
of  the  child.  We  are  told  that  when  he  comes  among  us  he  is 
fitted  out  with  profound  instincts  of  selfishness,  anger,  envy, 
deception,  and  the  like,  which  were  exceedingly  prominent  in  his 
primitive  ancestors.  Granting  the  truth  of  this  general  proposi- 
tion, it  is  equally  true  that  the  child  brings  with  him  from  afar 
marked  social  as  well  as  anti-social  impulses.  He  early  manifests 
social  hunger.  He  craves  personal  association,  which  is  shown 
strikingly  in  his  joyful  expressions  when  he  is  in  the  presence  of 
people,  and  his  lamentations  when  he  is  separated  from  them, 
which  expressions  do  not  occur  with  reference  to  things  as  con- 
trasted with  persons.  Early  in  his  career  he  displays  a  well-nigh 
irresistible  tendency  to  share  his  experiences,  whatever  they  may 
be,  with  his  parents  and  teachers  and  playmates.  He  apparently 
does  not  thoroughly  appreciate  or  enjoy  any  experience  unless  he 
can  find  others  to  enjoy  it  with  him,  or  at  least  to  whom  he  may 
communicate  the  experience.  Nothing  continues  to  be  of  genuine 
worth  for  him  unless  it  has  been  approved  by  the  social  environ- 
ment; unless  it  has  social  worth,  that  is  to  say.  If  the  people 
about  him  show  no  interest  in  what  he  makes  or  discovers,  or  the 
feats  he  performs,  his  own  interest  therein  will  surely  decline 
sooner  or  later.  It  is  not  long  before  he  is  governed  in  all  his 
activities  by  the  manifestations  of  the  people  who  are  always 
present  as  vitally  interested  spectators;  present  either  in  the  flesh 
or  in  the  child's  imagination,  as  we  say.  The  child's  consciousness 
is  at  all  times  a  social  one  to  a  greater  or  less  degree ;  he  is  con- 
tinually communing  with  people,  either  actually  or  in  representa- 
tion. Every  act  probably  has  reference,  directly  or  indirectly,  to 
persons.  Thus  the  ego  is  never  completely  dissociated  from  the 
alter ;  the  latter  is  always  present  in  consciousness,  either  focally 

646 


EDUCATION  FOR  SOCIAL  EFFICIENCY  647 

or  marginally.  So  egoism  and  altruism  are  not  two  absolutely 
antagonistic  attitudes ;  an  egoistic  act  must  at  the  same  time  have 
altruistic  reference  in  some  way  or  other.  Again,  egoism,  for  the 
most  part  at  any  rate,  can  realize  itself  only  through  service.  But 
an  individual  may  strive  for  mean,  unworthy,  material  ends, 
though  he  has  an  altruistic  aim  of  some  sort  constantly  in  view  in 
his  striving,  as  when  he  takes  advantage  of  a  rival  in  business 
for  the  benefit  of  his  wife  or  children.  Or  one  may  take  hold  on 
the  highest  things  in  life,  as  the  respect  and  good-will  of  all  men, 
in  the  attainment  of  which  the  really  vital  needs  of  the  alter  must 
be  ministered  to.  The  business  of  education  must  be,  for  one 
thing,  to  teach  the  child  what  the  alter  esteems  as  of  supreme 
worth,  and  to  impress  upon  him  that  in  the  long  run  the  broadest 
kind  of  egoistic-altruistic  action  will  bring  the  richest  rewards 
for  self. 

The  child's  first  actions,  viewed  from  his  own  standpoint, 
cannot  be  said  to  be  ethical  or  evil,  social  or  anti-social.  That  is 
right  which  he  instinctively  wants  to  do;  and  there  is  no  wrong 
in  his  conduct.  In  his  activities  at  the  outset  he  takes  no  account 
of  the  desires  or  needs  of  the  social  environment ;  but  by  the  close 
of  the  first  year  he  shows  in  his  inhibitions,  and  to  some  extent 
in  his  positive  actions,  a  slight  regard  at  least  for  the  feelings  and 
wishes  of  the  alter.  He  begins  now  to  appreciate  that  certain 
actions  affecting  persons  bring  him  discomfort  in  one  way  or 
another,  while  others  bring  him  pleasure;  and  his  distinctions 
between  right  and  wrong  take  their  origin  from  this  appreciation. 
That  is  right  which  father,  mother,  and  others  approve  and 
encourage;  that  is  wrong  which  they  frown  upon  and  attach 
penalties  to.  Gradually,  as  a  result  of  instinct  clashing  with 
social  demands,  there  is  established  a  self,  let  us  say,  reflecting  the 
requirements  of  the  social  environment,  and  this  from  its  most 
primitive  beginnings  makes  unceasing  war  upon  the  lower  self, 
motived  by  original,  narrowly  egoistic  impulses.  With  develop- 
ment this  ideal  or  social  self  gains  continually  in  breadth  and 
strength,  and  it  also  becomes  more  and  more  generalized,  until 
particular  experiences,  persons,  rules,  principles,  are  merged  into 
tendencies  to  action  in  given  directions;  or  perhaps  one  should 


648  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

say  that  this  scxrial  self  comes  in  time  to  consist  of  moods  or 
sentiments,  the  generalizations  of  early  concrete  social  experi- 
ences. Of  course,  the  extent  to  which  the  social  self  develops 
must  depend  upon  individual  circumstances,  and  also  upon  the 
extent  to  which  the  society  in  which  the  child  lives  has  developed. 
But  its  function  in  any  case  is  to  coerce  the  individual  to  act  in 
harmony  with  social  demands,  as  he  understands  them;  if  he 
does  not,  this  social  self  will  cause  more  or  less  serious  disturt>- 
ance.  Failing  to  get  itself  realized,  it  will  create  tension,  unrest, 
discontent.  One  can  observe  in  his  children  how,  as  the  years 
pass,  the  social  demands,  consolidated  more  or  less  completely 
into  feelings  of  duty,  gain  ever  greater  control  over  primordial 
impulsions.  Out  of  such  experience,  as  I  have  indicated,  arises 
very  slowly  the  consciousness  of  ought  or  duty;  conscience  and 
ethical  sentiment  grow  right  out  of  the  child's  experiments  in 
social  adaptation  in  his  daily  life. 

What  we  must  strive  to  accomplish  in  education,  then,  is  to 
give  the  pupil  opportunity  to  get  into  his  consciousness  as  models 
or  guides  many  persons  who  embody  in  their  conduct  the  highest 
social  ideals.  His  social  self,  with  its  motivations  of  duty  and 
conscience,  will  be  constructed  from  the  personal  copies  that  are 
set  before  him.  It  should  be  added  that  vital,  give-and-take  rela- 
tions with  persons  are  essential  in  order  that  their  characteristics 
may  be  apprehended,  and  that  they  may  be  accepted  as  models. 
One's  hero  determines  his  conduct  very  largely.  Good  literature 
comes  next  to  concrete  personality  in  its  influence  upon  conduct ; 
it  is  in  a  way  a  substitute  for  actual  social  situations.  The  drama, 
too,  is  powerful  for  good  or  ill  in  social  training.  The  question 
as  to  whether  children  should  see  evil  characters  exploited  on  the 
stage  is  too  complex  to  be  answered  categorically ;  but  in  general 
it  may  be  said  that  one  is  benefited  if  on  beholding  such  types  his 
antagonism  toward  them  is  aroused  and  sustained ;  while  he  will 
be  injured  if  he  approves  of  their  conduct.  It  should  be  remem- 
bered that  for  the  most  part  evil  in  modern  life  represents  actions 
once  universally  practiced  and  passed  on  to  the  young  as  instinc- 
tive tendencies,  and  it  is  therefore  easy  to  drop  back  into  them. 
This  it  is  that  makes  evil  persons  so  dangerous  to  youth. 


EDUCATION  FOR  SOCIAL  EFFICIENCY  649 

So  the  first  requirement  in  social  education  is  to  get  children 
to  live  together  in  a  T/ital  way,  in  order  that  they  may  come  to 
understand  one  another,  and  respect  each  other's  rights.  Learn- 
ing maxims  about  human  nature  or  ethical  conduct  or  right  or 
duty  or  brotherly  love  will  be  of  little  avail  without  a  vast  amount 
of  significant  social  experience.  Many  adults  have  good  theories 
about  social  relations,  but  their  practice  is  very  bad;  they  have 
not  had  enough  of  vital  give-and-take  relations  with  their  fellows 
to  be  disciplined  into  decent  behavior.  The  "only  child"  is 
usually  very  poorly  prepared  for  the  best  sort  of  social  life,  because 
he  has  not  been  molded  into  social  form  at  the  hands  of  his  fel- 
lows. Hard  knocks  are  essential  to  the  most  effective  learning 
in  social  matters.  The  child  must  learn,  not  so  much  by  being 
told  it  as  by  discovering  it  experientially,  that  on  the  whole  it 
pays  to  play  the  game  fair.  We  are  beginning  today,  it  seems,  to 
appreciate  the  soundness  of  these  principles,  for  we  are  devising 
ways  of  bringing  children  together  under  wholesome  influences, 
and  helping  them  to  gain  meaningful  social  experience.  The 
good,  old-fashioned  method  of  isolation  is  passing — such  a 
method  as  Dickens  spent  himself  in  trying  to  get  abolished. 

The  situation  in  the  ordinary  public  school,  however,  is  still 
far  from  what  we  could  wish.  The  typical  school  is  modeled  on 
the  static  plan.  Children  learn  their  lessons  and  recite  them, 
largely  in  isolation.  Spatial  nearness  does  not  imply  social  experi- 
ence. Children  may  sit  in  adjoining  seats,  and  not  come  to  know 
one  another,  except  in  external  appearance,  or  learn  how  to 
give  and  to  receive  aid  of  genuine  merit.  Children  must  work 
together,  not  simply  sit  near  each  other.  The  idea  is  at  least 
partially  realized  in  the  kindergarten.  But  the  kindergarten 
attempts  too  much  in  too  abstruse  a  way.  The  young  child's 
social  training  should  be  concerned  wholly  with  his  immediate 
relations  with  his  parents,  brothers  and  sisters,  and  playmates. 
He  should  not  be  lectured  to  about  social  conduct  in  the  abstract, 
or  about  his  responsibility  to  humanity  in  general. 

The  playground,  rightly  conducted,  furnishes  an  excellent 
opportunity  for  social  training.  It  affords  children  a  chance  to 
come  into  vital  contact  with  one  another,  where  the  lesson  of 


650  THE  AMERICAN  JOVRNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

good-will  and  co-operation  may  be  learned  in  an  effective  way. 
The  child  who  does  not  play  with  his  fellows  will  not  be  likely 
to  gain  the  sort  of  experience  that  counts  for  much  in  social  edu- 
cation. Play  of  the  character  indicated  is  not  only  of  social  value 
in  the  narrow  sense ;  it  is  of  tremendous  importance  also  in  intel- 
lectual training  and  physical  development.  Wholesome  play 
tends  to  preserve  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound  body.  The  playground 
lessons  crime,  too,  since  it  affords  an  opportimity  for  the  energies 
of  youth  to  be  expressed  in  legitimate  ways.  Boys  who  have  no 
chance  to  work  off  superfluous  energy  in  games  and  plays  will  be 
likely  to  revert  to  primitive  modes  of  preying  upon  their  social 
environment.  Experts  testify  that  wherever  a  playground  is 
established  in  the  crowded  quarters  of  a  city  juvenile  crime  is 
decreased  by  at  least  one-half.  So  the  playground  is  not  to  be 
considered  as  valuable  principally  for  recreation,  though  it  serves 
this  end  admirably. 

When  children  are  brought  together  under  wholesome  condi- 
tions, and  given  opportunity  to  work  and  play  together,  they  will 
train  themselves  in  the  fundamental  social  virtues  better  than 
most  adults  can  do  it  for  them.  Adults  are  often  suspected  by 
children  as  hostile  to  their  chief  interests,  and  their  counsels  are 
neither  gladly  received  nor  readily  followed.  The  great  teacher, 
howe^{er,  will  make  himself  one  of  the  group,  perhaps  the  most 
experienced  and  resourceful  one  of  all,  but  not  essentially  differ- 
ent from  the  rest  of  the  group.  Then  he  can  influence  the  group 
through  his  suggestions;  otherwise  his  leadership  will  be  con- 
stantly threatened  and  often  rejected.  The  teacher  who  is  looked 
upon  as  a  mere  outsider,  or  disciplinarian,  perhaps,  can  never  have 
much  peace  or  prosperity  in  training  the  young.  He  who 
antagonizes  the  group  will  have  an  unending  fight  on  his  hands. 

In  group-life  the  strong,  those  possessing  the  qualities  of 
leadership,  will  come  to  the  front,  and  the  weak  must  and  should 
reap  the  consequences  of  their  weakness ;  though  a  child  may  be  a 
follower  in  one  activity  and  a  leader  in  another.  In  the  great 
social  game  the  competent  lead,  while  the  others  follow ;  and  this 
regime  should  prevail  in  child-life,  too.  In  the  long  run,  this  will 
result  best  for  all  concerned.     We  should  not  permit  our  sym- 


EDUCATION  FOR  SOCIAL  EFFICIENCY  651 

pathies  to  interfere  too  greatly  with  the  natural  course  of  events 
in  group-life.  If  we  hold  back  those  richly  endowed  by  nature, 
we  do  them  a  greater  injustice  than  could  possibly  be  done  the 
weak  child  by  permitting  him  to  occupy  the  position  for  which  his 
talents  fit  him.  We  adults  are  liable  anyway  to  project  our  own 
feelings  into  the  lives  of  those  children  who  stand  at  the  foot  of 
the  class ;  and  in  this  we  are  almost  certain  to  commit  an  error. 
It  is  probable  that  nature  does  not  usually  combine  in  the  same 
individual  very  mediocre  talents  with  very  lively  ambitions,  and 
a  keen  sense  of  humiliation  when  he  cannot  attain  to  the  first 
place  in  the  group. 

Again,  the  group  can  very  effectually  discipline  ill-behaved, 
refractory  members  —  better  than  the  teacher  working  alone  can 
do  it.  The  individual  cannot  endure  the  reproaches  of  his  own 
kind;  his  deepest  instinct  is  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  his 
fellows.  So,  if  we  would  reform  the  individual,  we  must  work 
through  the  group.  It  will  avail  little  to  try  to  cure  a  boy  of 
some  fault,  when  it  is  freely  practiced  by  his  set.  For  this  reason 
the  community  and  the  school  should  be  organized  so  that  chil- 
dren can  be  dealt  with  uniformly  as  a  whole;  the  isolated  home 
or  school  cannot  accomplish  a  great  deal,  if  it  works  in  opposition 
to  the  sentiment  and  custom  of  the  community. 

Locke,  Rosseau,  Si>encer,  and  their  disciples  have  taught  us 
that  the  most  effective  way  to  dissuade  a  child  from  wrong-doing 
is  to  cause  him  to  suffer  the  consequences  thereof.  He  must 
discover  in  this  way  that  it  is  worth  while  to  do  right.  With- 
out doubt  this  method  is  capable  of  accomplishing  great  good. 
For  one  thing,  it  trains  the  individual  in  the  way  of  noting 
the  outcome  of  his  actions,  and  being  guided  accordingly,  than 
which  there  can  be  nothing  of  greater  importance  in  human 
life.  But  the  method  of  natural  consequences  has  marked 
limitations.  Very  young  children  cannot  discern  the  connection 
between  wrong  action  and  natural  penalty,  unless  the  latter 
follows  the  former  very  directly.  Punishment  by  natural 
consequences  is  more  appropiate  for,  and  will  be  more  effective 
with,  the  youth  than  the  child.  Besides,  a  child  should  have 
some  experience  in  obeying  authority  because  this  authority  is 


652  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

wiser  than  he,  and  is  responsible  for  his  protection  and 
guidance.  The  parent  and  teacher  in  a  sense  represent  the  child 
in  the  world,  and  then  the  child  must  put  his  faith  in  them  and 
follow  their  bidding.  But  this  is  not  an  argument  for  much 
chastisement.  Indeed,  the  more  pain  we  administer,  the  more 
likely  we  are  to  do  the  child  injury.  Pleasure  is  upbuilding, 
while  pain  kills,  and  should  be  used  only  sparingly  as  a  curative 
agency  when  other  remedies  fail.  The  rod  is  becoming  less  and 
less  prominent  as  a  means  of  moral  training,  and  to  the  great 
advantage  of  the  whole  life  of  the  child.  But  we  are  probably 
not  ready  to  abandon  it  altogether.  It  would  be  better  for  a 
child  to  be  whipped  soundly  once  than  to  be  scolded  for  wrong- 
doing day  after  day.  Especially  would  it  be  more  advisable  for  the 
child  to  suffer  acutely  for  a  short  period  in  childhood,  in  breaking 
up  some  noxious  habit  or  curtailing  some  instinct,  than  to  carry 
the  habit  or  instinct  into  maturity,  and  bear  the  ills  of  it  there 
continuously.  Then,  when  punishment  is  clearly  deserved,  and 
the  child  realizes  it,  it  is  probable  he  does  not  feel  the  humiliation 
of  it  so  much  as  we  adults  sometimes  imagine  he  does,  but  that  in 
the  end  he  feels  the  stronger  and  happier  for  it. 

Locke  would  whip  a  child  for  nothing  except  obstinacy.  But 
it  is  important  to  distinguish  between  a  refusal  to  obey  authority 
for  the  sake  merely  of  opposition,  and  a  desire  to  carry  out  one's 
own  enterprises,  in  which  case  the  question  of  obedience  does  not 
really  enter  at  all.  Most  of  our  troubles  in  disciplining  the  young 
arise  from  bad  methods  in  infancy,  when  we  often  encourage  the 
very  traits  which  later  we  have  to  cudgel  out  of  a  child.  Obsti- 
nacy in  the  infant  is  amusing,  but  in  the  ten-year-old  it  is  a 
monstrous  thing. 

If  the  teacher  were  a  true  leader,  he  would  have  comparatively 
little  need  for  the  rod.  But  in  the  past,  and  it  is  true  still  in  some 
places,  the  school  has  been  the  stronghold  of  dolts  and  dullards 
who  did  not  have  sufficient  force  of  intellect  or  character  to  main- 
tain a  place  in  the  world  of  affairs.  Consequently  they  could  not 
lead  the  young,  and  so  they  tried  to  drive  them.  The  typical 
pedagogue  of  literature  is  a  blunderer  and  tyrant  whose  hands 
"drip  with  infant's  blood."    We  realize  today,  however,  that  we 


EDUCATION  FOR  SOCIAL  EFFICIENCY  653 

must  not  let  into  the  teaching  profession  anyone  who  is  not  intel- 
lectually fit;  and  we  are  just  beginning  to  see  that  we  ought  to 
have  some  method  of  barring  the  personally  unfit  from  the 
schoolroom.  There  are  signs  that  we  shall  soon  devise  some 
method  of  examining  personal  characteristics  in  certificating 
teachers.  We  will  take  account  of  the  voice,  for  one  thing,  since 
this  exerts  upon  children  a  very  subtle  influence  for  good  or  for 
ill.  Possibly  the  intellectually  strong,  who  are  in  a  general  way 
selected  out  by  our  present  methods  of  certificating,  are  also  per- 
sonally strong;  but  it  is  probable  that  this  is  not  always  the  case, 
at  any  rate.  Then  good  stature  is  of  supreme  importance  in  the 
classroom.  A  leader  must  suggest  physical  strength,  among 
other  things.  Presence,  in  all  this  means,  counts  for  a  vast  deal. 
The  features  are  of  greater  consequence  in  determining  leader- 
ship in  the  schoolroom  than  all  the  rules  a  teacher  could  construct. 

Youth  is  the  most  vital  period  in  social  training.  Most  people 
appreciate  this  in  a  general  way ;  even  savage  tribes  have  special 
ceremonies  at  this  time.  Rapid  metamorphosis  is  the  order  dur- 
ing this  epoch,  and  this  is  most  marked  in  the  emotional  life. 
There  is  a  birth  of  new  emotions  and  interests,  all  of  social  refer- 
ence. The  birth  of  the  tender  passion  marks  the  beginning  of 
an  entirely  new  epoch  in  the  life  of  the  individual.  Most  of  his 
activities  for  a  time  bear  some  sort  of  relation  to  it,  either  directly 
or  remotely.  All  the  developments  of  this  period  probably  have 
their  place  in  a  well-rounded  character ;  and  in  education  we  must 
guide  and  direct,  not  suppress  them.  It  seems  that  every  power 
is  in  the  beginning  crude  and  misshapen  in  the  light  of  present- 
day  needs;  but  this  is  at  once  the  opportunity  and  the  justification 
of  education. 

The  problems  of  training  youth  in  the  social  virtues  in  the 
small  town  demand  the  serious  attention  of  parents  and  educators. 
The  bill-boards  in  these  places  are  a  source  of  mischief.  Scenes 
they  depict  often  nourish  coarseness  and  rascality.  The  absence 
of  ideals  is  the  bane  of  the  town,  for  the  adolescent  boy  especially. 
There  is  little  to  awaken  his  higher  ambitions ;  and  the  homes,  on 
the  whole,  are  devoid  of  inspiring  influences,  so  the  boy  takes  to 
the  street.    But  the  models  which  are  presented  to  him  here  are 


654  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

very  apt  to  be  vicious.  The  saloon,  the  livery  stable,  and  the 
railway  station  in  the  small  town  are  strongholds  of  vulgarity 
and  vice.  The  worst  feature  of  the  case  is  that  boys  have  nothing 
of  consequence  to  do  in  the  town,  and  under  such  circumstances 
they  degenerate  rapidly.  This  suggests  the  great  opportunity  and 
function  of  the  school  in  the  town.  It  should  be  the  center  of  the 
life  of  the  community.  It  should  in  every  way  appeal  to  the 
interests  of  the  young,  and  win  them  to  wholesome  occupations 
and  amusements.  As  the  school  exists  in  the  majority  of  towns 
today,  however,  it  is  doing  little  which  appeals  to  the  spontaneous 
interests  of  young  people,  which  influence  their  extra-school 
activities.  The  church  is  even  more  derelict  in  its  duty.  If  it 
realized  its  opportunity,  it  would  minister  in  wholesome  ways  to 
the  natural  tendencies  of  the  young,  and  not  stand  apart  from 
active  life  as  it  now  does. 


INCREASED  USE  OF  PUBLIC-SCHOOL  PROPERTY 


THOMAS   JAMES    RILEY,    PH.D. 
Western  State  Normal  School,  Kalamazoo,  Mich. 


Like  many  of  our  educational  ideas,  the  plan  of  using  public- 
school  buildings  and  grounds  after  regular  school  hours  and  dtu*- 
ing  vacation  months  seems  to  have  originated  in  New  England. 
But  it  was  soon  put  into  operation  in  the  Middle  Atlantic  states, 
and  has  reached  its  highest  development  and  greatest  differentia- 
tion in  New  York  city.  Such  increased  use  of  school  property 
has  taken  the  form  of  evening  schools,  free  lectures,  evening 
recreation  centers,  and  playgrounds.  The  magnitude  of  this 
movement  marks  it  as  significant.  During  the  school  year  of 
1902-3,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  there  were  registered  in  the 
evening  and  vacation  schools  almost  one-fourth  as  many  students 
as  were  registered  in  the  day  schools,  and  almost  one-seventh  as 
many  teachers  were  employed;  while  an  aggregate  of  two  and 
one-half  million  people  were  reached  by  more  than  one  thousand 
lecturers  and  instructors  at  the  recreation  centers,  playgrounds, 
and  lecture-halls.  Chicago  is  far  behind  the  first  city  of  America 
in  the  absolute  and  relative  extent  of  the  increased  use  of  public- 
school  property ;  but  even  there,  as  in  all  the  other  great  cities  of 
the  country,  this  method  of  school  extension  has  become  very 
important. 

So  great  a  movement  must  have  vital  causes  and  the  promise 
of  good  things.  Its  less  direct  causes  are  found  in  certain  general 
tendencies.  The  experience  of  American  communities  has 
demonstrated  that  the  education  of  the  youth  cannot  be  left 
entirely  to  the  home;  for  there  it  is  often  neglected,  sometimes 
degraded,  and  usually  incomplete.  This  same  experience  has 
proved  that  education  cannot  be  intrusted  alone  or  freely  to  the 
church.  Acting  on  an  eminent  interest  in  their  future  welfare, 
the  American  states  provide  a  free  public-school  system  with  com- 
pulsory attendance,  and  exercise  a  regulative  control  over  private 

655 


656  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

and  church  schools.  The  assumption  of  such  a  prerogative  creates 
the  obligation  to  provide  the  best  education  for  as  many  people  as 
possible.  The  increased  use  of  public-school  property  is  the 
logical  implication  of  the  policy  of  free  public  education. 

The  movement  is  the  actualization  of  some  of  the  implications 
of  the  industrial  spirit  and  methods  of  the  age  that  have  taken  so 
many  activities  from  the  home  to  public  places,  to  shops  and 
factories.  If  the  education  of  the  children  has  been  taken  from 
the  home  to  the  school,  the  mother  has  not  been  left  behind ;  her 
interests  go  with  her  children.  Women  have  become  the  school- 
teachers. If  the  canning  and  preserving  of  fruits  have  been 
taken  from  the  home,  the  women  have  tended  to  follow  them.  If 
weaving  and  sewing  are  now  done  in  shops  and  factories,  there 
the  weavers  and  sewers  are  found.  Other  things  have  less  evi- 
dently, though  no  less  certainly,  been  taken  from  the  home  by 
this  publicizing  tendency.  Machino-facture  has  greatly  acceler- 
ated concentration  of  capital  and  industries,  and  congestion  of 
population.  These  have  taken  women  from  their  homes,  and  have 
crowded  families  into  smaller  quarters.  The  dwelling  whence  the 
mother  goes  for  work,  and  where  she  spends  only  her  tired  hours, 
has  become  less  a  home.  Social  life  and  play  have  been  taken 
away.  And  the  public  that  has  taken  them  away  must  return 
them  to  these  people.  The  public  playgrounds,  the  recreation 
centers,  and  the  schoolhouse  as  a  social  center  are  the  community's 
conscious  effort  to  supplement  the  changed  home. 

As  a  corollary  of  the  above  should  be  mentioned  the  convic- 
tion that  has  taken  hold  of  many  men,  that  the  large  amount  of 
untaxed  property  represented  by  the  school  buildings,  grounds, 
and  apparatus  was  not  being  used  in  anything  like  the  degree  in 
which  the  successful  business  man  uses  his  property.  The  argu- 
ment took  the  form :  either  tax  the  property  or  put  it  to  larger 
use. 

Among  the  less  direct  causes  of  this  movement  should  be  men- 
tioned also  the  educational  philosophy  now  prevailing  in  this 
country — a  philosophy  that  may  not  inaptly  be  called  that  of  the 
integral  self.  Time  was  when  an  educated  man  was  one  who 
knew  a  great  many  things,  who  studied  so  hard  that  he  was  weak 


INCREASED  USE  OF  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  PROPERTY         657 

in  body,  and  who  had  perhaps  been  so  engaged  in  intellectual  pur- 
suits that  his  emotional,  aesthetic,  and  religious  life  was  scarcely 
alive.  Today  no  third  of  a  man  passes  for  a  whole  man.  Man 
is  not  conceived  as  having  a  body,  a  mind,  and  a  spirit ;  as  having 
an  intellect,  feelings,  and  a  will ;  but  man  is  one  being,  manifest- 
ing under  his  several  needs  of  experience  now  a  physical,  now  a 
mental,  and  now  a  spiritual  interest,  or  now  a  cognitive,  now  an 
affective,  and  now  a  volitional  aspect.  Or,  better  still,  man  is  one 
being,  a  unitary  life  which  as  experiencer  knows  itself  imme- 
diately only  as  a  unit  self,  and  which  may  through  the  activities 
of  memory  and  imagination,  of  reflection,  separate  its  experience 
into  cognitive,  affective,  and  volitional  acts.  Man  is  a  bipartite  or 
a  tripartite  being  only  to  the  observing  mind,  to  the  observer ;  he 
is  one  unitary  self  to  himself  as  experiencer.  This  conception  of 
man,  that  makes  his  body  dignified,  and  that  exalts  all  that  he  is, 
has  much  to  do  with  the  recent  increased  attention  to  the  health 
and  training  of  the  body.  Recreation  centers  and  playgrounds  are 
part  of  the  means  for  securing  such  a  development,  while  this 
same  philosophy  demands  that  our  system  of  education  provide 
more  adequately  for  the  social  and  aesthetic  culture  of  our  people. 
Hence  the  social  uses  of  the  schoolhouses. 

The  opening  of  public-school  property  for  increased  use  is  a 
further  realization  of  the  implications  of  democracy.  Centraliza- 
tion and  public  control  are  consistent  with  democracy  only  when 
they  secure  greater  universality  and  equality  of  opportunity. 
Powers  and  practices  of  a  genuine  democracy  are  institution- 
alized, are  delegated  to  public  authority,  only  when  larger 
aggregates  and  juster  proportions  of  the  health,  wealth  socia- 
bility, knowledge,  beauty,  and  rightness  satisfactions  are  thereby 
secured  to  all  members  of  the  state.  To  regard  all  men  as  equal 
means  to  provide  equal  opportunities  for  all  men,  so  far  as  public 
ministrations  are  concerned.  The  implication  of  the  privileges 
and  duties  of  a  citizen  is  an  education  that  prepares  one  for  citi- 
zenship. These  two  implications  of  democracy — viz.,  that 
powers  and  practices  are  delegated  to  public  authority,  that 
larger  aggregates  and  juster  proportions  of  goods  may  be 
secured  to  each  delegate,  and  that  the  practices  of  citizenship 


658  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

imply  opportunity  for  learning  how  to  become  the  best  citizen 
— these  are  finding  better  realization  through  the  phase  of  school 
extension  under  consideration. 

These,  then,  are  among  the  less  direct  or  immediate  causes  of 
the  use  of  public-school  property  after  regular  school  hours 
and  during  vacation  months :  the  logic  of  a  free  public-school 
system,  the  industrial  spirit  and  methods  of  the  age,  the  ascendant 
philosophy  of  education,  and  the  implications  of  democracy. 
Three  more  direct  or  immediate  causes  have  united  to  bring 
about  this  same  result.  The  first  of  these  was  the  demand  of  two 
clasess  of  people  for  the  privilege  of  free  schools.  The  first  class 
were  the  industrially  less  favored  boys  and  girls  who  had  been 
compelled  to  leave  school  for  the  shop,  factory,  or  office.  This 
ambitious  army  was  reinforced  by  a  large  number  of  adult  for- 
eigners seeking  the  opportunity  to  learn  the  English  language 
and  enough  of  the  rudiments  of  an  education  to  make  them  of 
higher  economic  efficiency. 

Of  the  10,000  people  enrolled  in  twenty-two  evening  schools 
in  Chicago  (1903-4),  about  70  per  cent,  were  foreign-born  or 
native-born  of  foreign  parents.  In  seven  schools  alone  there 
were  enrolled  6,140  such  foreigners,  representing  forty  different 
nationalities.  Mature  men  come  night  after  night,  crowd  them- 
selves into  small  desks,  and  sit  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  poring 
over  simple  English  words  and  first-reader  stories,  in  the  cherished 
ambition  to  become  able  to  read  an  American  newspaper.  Some 
have  progressed  far  enough  to  read  their  trade  papers,  or  to 
learn  for  themselves  from  the  printed  page  something  of  the 
privileges  of  American  citizenship,  or  the  claims  of  labor.  These 
ambitious  foreigners,  and  the  factory  boys  and  girls,  knocking  at 
the  closed  doors  of  many  school  buildings,  should  find  more  doors 
opening  to  them. 

A  second  immediate  demand  for  the  further  use  of  the  school- 
house  arose  from  the  side  of  need.  To  the  children  in  the  crowded 
parts  of  great  cities,  vacation  does  not  mean  grass  and  trees  and 
hills  and  streams,  open  fields  and  summer  sunshine;  but  long 
hours  on  hot,  busy,  bare  streets  or  alleys  lined  with  unsightly 
garbage  cans,  truancy  from  home,  stolen  rides,  and  stolen  fruits: 


INCREASED  USE  OF  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  PROPERTY         659 

To  the  child  so  situated  the  close  of  school  is  a  time  of  peril.  As 
there  are  those  who  seek  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  less- 
favored  children  through  statutory  regulations  of  hours  of  em- 
ployment, safety,  and  sanitation,  so  there  are  those  who  strive 
to  improve  the  condition  of  these  children  of  the  street  through 
higher  ideals  and  more  wholesome  surroundings.  Long  observa- 
tion of  these  children  has  discovered  that  they  are  lacking  in  the 
appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  nature,  and  of  the  cleanliness  of 
self  and  surroundings ;  that  they  have  no  development  of  manual 
power  or  constructive  genius.  Observation  has  likewise  shown 
that  the  instinct  of  beauty  and  of  workmanship  only  needs  the 
opportunity  of  gratification  and  cultivation.  To  supply  these 
needs,  the  schoolhouses  are  being  opened  during  the  summer 
months. 

There  is  another  demand  made  upon  the  public-school  build- 
ings. The  social-settlement  idea  has  become  contagious  until,  on 
the  encouragement  of  public-spirited  individuals  and  clubs,  the 
people  are  asking  that  the  schoolhouse  be  made  the  social  as  well 
as  the  educational  center  of  the  neighborhood.  A  knowledge  of 
some  districts  of  the  great  cities  discloses  a  sad  need  of  a  whole- 
some social  center.  There  are  ten  nationalities  in  one  small  group 
in  a  certain  neighborhood  in  Chicago.  There  is  no  common 
tongue,  there  are  no  common  traditions,  no  sympathies,  no  com- 
radeship. The  impersonality  and  namelessness  of  their  lives  rest 
like  a  weight  on  all  their  social  instincts.  Within  the  dull-brown 
houses  are  a  few  small  rooms  of  bare  walls  and  uncovered  floors. 
Through  the  smoke-  and  dust-covered  windows  scarcely  enough 
light  struggles  to  reveal  in  one  case  a  babe  of  one  year  and  its 
caretaker,  a  girl  of  five,  asleep  in  rags.  From  many  of  these 
homes  the  mother  is  gone  from  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  until 
evening.  The  minds  and  hearts  of  these  people  are  as  poverty- 
stricken  as  are  their  unfurnished  homes.  These  are  the  homes 
of  many  a  young  woman  who  yearns  in  her  heart  for  the  com- 
panionship of  other  young  people.  Having  seen  other  homes 
that  are  more  attractive,  she  is  ashamed  of  her  own.  Many  a 
young  woman  who  dresses  fairly  well,  and  who  works  in  some 
shop  or  store,  will  contrive  many  a  scheme  to  prevent  an  acquaint- 


66o  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ance  from  seeing  the  poverty  of  her  home.  Where  shall  these 
young  people  meet  in  wholesome  ways?  Where  shall  these 
families  gratify  their  longing  for  neighborliness  ?  Where  shall 
the  social  life  of  these  people  find  expression?  Where  shall  con- 
tentment, happiness,  sympathy,  solidarity,  neighborhood  pride, 
and  civic  interest  —  the  very  possibilities  of  morality  and  democ- 
racy—  be  fostered? 

There  are  those  who  know  well  enough  the  social  instincts  of 
a  people,  and  who  through  ministering  to  these  appetites  in 
unwholesome  ways,  degrade  and  make  poor  in  purse  and  spirit 
those  whom  our  public  welfare  demands  we  should  elevate.  In 
the  neighborhood  referred  to  above  there  is  not  a  place  of  public 
assembly  except  some  saloon  and  the  dance-hall  connected  with  it. 
There  the  young  men  and  women  go;  there  the  families  go. 
There  these  people  meet;  but  oh,  the  cost  of  it!  Lost  virtue, 
debauched  mind,  body,  and  heart,  defeated  ambition,  sickening 
and  failing  sensibilities,  impoverished  and  often  wrecked  homes; 
companionship  with  vice  in  the  natural  effort  to  gratify  a  worthy 
instinct  of  fellowship ;  going  downward  through  ugliness,  vicious- 
ness,  and  error,  when  the  instincts  that  lead  them  on  are  those 
that  God  designed  should  most  richly  bless  their  lives ;  consorting 
with  all  that  is  mean  and  ugly  and  hateful,  when  all  that  is  good 
and  beautiful  and  happy  should  be  their  constant  delight ! 

There  are  those  who  believe  that  the  public-school  houses, 
with  their  large  assembly  halls,  brightly  lighted  rooms,  and  tastily 
decorated  walls,  should  be  opened  to  the  social  life  of  such  people. 

When  one  looks  at  the  need  for  increased  use  of  public-school 
property,  there  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  the  property  is  not  thus 
increasingly  used.  But  are  there  some  difficulties?  Are  there 
some  practical  reasons  why  the  buildings  are  not  opened  more  for 
night  schools,  and  for  concerts,  lectures,  and  social  evenings? 
During  the  school  year  of  1902-3  the  evening  schools,  the  vaca- 
tion schools,  the  summer  playgrounds,  and  the  recreation  centers 
increased  the  taxes  about  $733,000  in  New  York  city,  while 
similar  extension  in  Chicago  added  $105,000  to  the  cost  of  the 
school  system.  The  tax-paying  public  and  the  school  boards  of 
the  great  cities  must  be  educated  to  the  appreciation  of  the  needs 


INCREASED  USE  OF  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  PROPERTY         66l 

and  value  of  the  proposed  extension,  before  the  latter  will  recom- 
mend the  increased  levy,  or  the  former  support  it.  In  some  cities 
the  school  board  has  not  the  authority  to  appropriate  funds  for 
most  of  these  forms  of  extension. 

For  the  evening  schools  it  has  been  found  that  a  specially 
qualified  list  of  teachers  is  demanded,  that  special  kinds  of  courses 
and  methods  must  be  devised.  All  this  means  increased  equip- 
ment. There  are  other  difficulties,  such  as  irregular  attendance, 
fatigue,  and  short  terms.  Most  of  the  things  that  are  in  the  way 
can  be  overcome  by  a  wise  campaign  of  education  of  and  by 
public-spirited  men  and  women,  public-spirited  clubs  and  asso- 
ciations, school  officials  and  tax-payers.  In  this  educational  role 
is  found  the  work  of  some  of  the  most  important  clubs  and  asso- 
ciations in  the  large  cities,  while  the  social  settlements  are  accom- 
plishing much  in  this  same  direction.  There  are  thus  united  a 
large  number  of  people  in  providing  for  the  foreigners  whom  we 
welcome,  and  the  boys  and  girls  whose  school  days  have  been 
foreshortened  by  industrial  demands,  the  opportunities  of  a  free 
public-school  system;  united  in  an  effort  to  discover  for  the 
industrial  shut-ins  of  our  crowded  quarters  some  place  for  social 
life  under  wholesome  conditions.  They  are  characterized  by  a 
commendable  zeal,  believing  their  work  is  the  logical  implication 
of  a  free  public-school  system,  recognizing  it  as  necessitated  by 
and  natural  to  the  changed  industrial  life  of  the  age  and  our 
people,  inspired  by  the  educational  ideal  of  a  complete  manhood 
and  womanhood,  and  fearless  to  go  the  full  length  of  democracy. 
They  are  in  earnest,  for,  in  addition  to  opening  summer  schools 
for  the  children  of  the  street,  giving  a  new  chance  to  young 
people  who  have  had  to  leave  school  too  early,  encouraging  the 
ambitious  foreigners  who  desire  to  learn  the  English  language, 
and  providing  a  social  center  for  the  neighborhood,  these 
promoters  of  the  increased  use  of  public-school  property  have 
ambitions  that  through  these  efforts  they  may  bring  parents  and 
children  closer  together,  promote  local  and  racial  assimilation, 
overcome  opposition  to  our  public-school  system  on  the  part  of 
some  foreigners  and  certain  religionists,  provide  classes  and 
studies  in  civic  relations  and  duties;  and  thus  further  the  educa- 


662  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tion  of  children  and  youth,  enlange  the  opportunities  and  souls 
of  our  people,  elevate  the  moral  tone  of  the  community,  promote 
good  citizenship,  guarantee  larger  homogeneity,  sympathy,  and 
stability,  and  foster  respect  and  support  for  American  institu- 
tions and  ideals. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY.     XVIII 

PART  III.    GENERAL  STRUCTURE  OF  SOCIETY 

CHAPTER  VII.      THE  SOCIAL  FRONTIERS   (CONTINUED) 

SECTION   VIII.      THK    DECLINE   OF   THE    ROMAN    EMPIRE   AND   THE   FORMATION    OF 
THE    FEUDAL   REGIME    (CONTINUED) 


G.    DE    GREEF 
Rector  of  the  Nouvelle  Universite,  Brussels,  Belgium 


The  historians  have  observed  that  this  partition  was  dis- 
tinguished from  eariier  partitions  of  the  Prankish  empire  by  the 
fact  that  it  took  account  in  part  of  ethnic  and  topographical  affini- 
ties, but  the  conclusions  which  they  have  attempted  to  draw  in 
favor  of  so-called  natural  political  frontiers  are  false.  It  was  no 
more  the  thought  of  Charlemagne  than  of  Pepin  to  set  up 
obstacles  between  the  hereditary  portions,  but  rather  to  assure 
co-operation  and  the  necessity  of  an  understanding-  between  their 
successors;  when  they  adopted  mountains  or  rivers  as  indicating 
the  boundaries  of  each  portion,  these  mountains  and  rivers  were 
only  outlines  easier  of  recognition,  and  their  effort  was,  on  the 
contrary,  to  assure  relationships  among  their  heirs. 

In  this  Charlemagne  imitated  his  father;  that  which  pre- 
occupied his  mind  was  the  security  of  the  whole  patrimony.  It 
was  for  this  reason  that  he  came  to  give  to  his  eldest  son  the  most 
extensive,  if  not  the  richest,  portion,  including  the  valley  of  the 
Aosta,  one  of  the  gates  of  Italy,  and  even  added  to  Aquitaine  the 
valley  of  Susa.  Thus  the  two  kingdoms  had  access  to  Italy,  and 
could  aid  it  in  case  of  need. 

As  to  the  third  empire,  the  Byzantine,  its  frontiers  were  being 
continually  displaced.  At  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century 
the  Persians  took  from  it  Syria,  Palestine,  and  Mesopotania;  it 
succeeded  in  retaking  them,  but  only  to  see  them  again  taken  by 
the  Arabs.  The  Mussulman  conquest  reached  successively  Arme- 
nia, Cyprus,  Rhodes,  and  Crete.  Three  times  repelled,  the  Mus- 
sulmans  arrived   under   the   walls   of   Constantinople.      Egypt, 

663 


664  THE  AMERICAN  JOVRKAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

already  conquered  by  the  Persians,  was  taken  by  the  Arabs.  By 
the  end  of  the  seventh  century  all  of  Byzantine  Africa  had  fallen 
into  their  hands ;  in  the  eight,  the  whole  of  Spain ;  to  which  was 
added,  from  the  eighth  to  the  tenth  century,  the  Balearics,  Sicily, 
and  Sardinia. 

The  Lombards  made  an  irruption  into  Italy  in  the  seventh 
century.  The  frontier  of  the  Danube  gave  way  under  the  pres- 
sure of  the  Slavs ;  the  Croats  established  themselves  in  Dalmatia 
and  in  Pannonia;  the  Serbs,  in  Upper  Moesia,  in  Dacia,  and  in 
Dardania;  still  other  Slavs,  in  Lower  Mcesia,  in  Thrace,  Mace- 
donia, and  Thessaly.  Toward  the  end  of  the  seventh  century  the 
Bulgarian  Finns  founded  south  of  the  Danube  a  powerful  king- 
dom, which  dominated  the  Slavic  tribes  and  extended  as  far  as 
Rhodope  and  Albania.  From  the  eighth  to  the  tenth  century 
there  was  a  return  of  Byzantine  power  in  Asia  as  well  as  in 
Europe;  the  Bulgarian  kingdom  was  itself  annihilated  under  the 
combined  efforts  of  Byzantium,  the  Hungarians,  the  Russians, 
etc.  At  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  century  the  Empire  of  the 
East  was  almost  as  extensive  as  at  the  time  of  Justinian,  but  it 
contained  the  most  extraordinary  mixture  of  populations,  differ- 
ing both  in  origin  and  in  language.  Religion  was  their  only  com- 
mon bond.  By  military  force  it  united  them,  while  it  restrained, 
oppressed,  and  held  them  down.  Religion  spread  even  beyond 
the  military  frontiers;  it  bore  the  influence  of  Byzantium,  by 
means  of  the  Greek  friars  and  of  economic  relations,  among  the 
Slavs  of  Moravia,  among  the  Croats,  the  Serbs,  and  the  Bul- 
garians. The  Khazars  were  converted  in  the  ninth  century. 
Russia  passed  to  the  Orthodox  Greek  church  in  the  following 
century. 

As  throughout  western  Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
military  structure  gathered  strength  at  the  center  and  at  the 
extremities.  In  the  Byzantine  Empire,  starting  with  the  middle 
of  the  seventh  century,  the  old  provinces  were  fused  into  govern- 
ments more  and  more  extensive  from  a  territorial  point  of  view, 
but  at  the  same  time  more  and  more  centralized  in  the  hands  of 
military  commanders.  The  provinces  were  called  themes  —  a 
word  which  denotes  at  once  the  territory  and  the  body  of  troops 


INTRODUCTION   TO  SOCIOLOGY  665 

which  was  stationed  there  under  a  commander  who  retained  at  the 
same  time  with  the  military  also  the  civil  power.  During  the 
following  centuries  the  themes  multiplied,  especially  at  the  fron- 
tiers. Toward  the  middle  of  the  tenth,  the  empire  comprised 
thirty-one,  each  with  a  strategus  —  a  commander  with  arbitrary 
powers,  who  was  directly  responsible  only  to  the  emperor.  Every- 
where were  social  forces  with  their  essentially  military  structure 
—  forces  which  triturated  and  combined  societies,  with  their 
groupings  and  boundaries,  without  much  regard  to  differences 
either  ethnic  or  physical.  About  the  time  when  Charlemagne 
re-established  the  imperial  unity  in  the  Gallic  and  Germanic  West, 
England  was  becoming  unified  under  the  hegemony  of  the  king- 
dom of  Wessex.  This  kingdom  included  all  the  southern  coast  of 
England,  the  frontier  which  faced  the  continent  and  was  the  most 
exposed,  the  most  military,  and  hence  destined  to  become  a  center 
for  conquest,  the  cradle  of  a  great  power.  This  kingdom  had 
already  annexed  the  peninsula  of  Cornwall,  after  having  put  itself 
at  the  head  of  all  the  other  Saxon  principalities.  These  latter  had 
finally  formed  three  kingdoms  (Wessex,  Sussex,  Essex),  of 
which  the  first  had  become  predominant.  Kent  had  been  colo- 
nized by  the  Jutes;  to  the  north  the  Angles  formed  three  king- 
doms beyond  the  Humber  —  Northumberland,  East  Anglia,  and 
Mercia. 

All  these  populations  were  Germanic,  and  their  political  unity 
was  realized  from  the  first  half  of  the  tenth  century.  The  country 
of  Wales,  containing  three  small  kingdoms,  was  made  subject  to 
England  only  in  1282.  In  Scotland  the  Picts  had  been  subjugated 
by  the  Scots  from  842.  In  the  following  century  their  domina- 
tion extended  over  the  kingdom  of  Sutherland  toward  the  South, 
territory  where  the  Picts  and  the  Britons  had  already  mixed. 

Great  Britain  is  made  up  of  three  distinct  regions.  Masses  of 
mountains  separate  them.  The  southeast  of  England  is  a  country 
of  plains  and  low  hills.  The  inhabitants  of  this  region  remained 
naturally  for  a  long  time  separated  from  the  neighboring  regions 
by  their  interests,  their  customs,  and  their  history.  To  the  west 
and  the  south,  the  long  mountainous  peninsula  of  Cornwall  pro- 
jects into  the  ocean;    and  to  its  north,  the  country  of  Wales, 


666  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

separated  from  it  by  the  Bristol  Channel,  forms  likewise  a  moun- 
tainous double  peninsula  clearly  separated  from  the  rest  of  the 
country  by  deep  indentations  of  the  sea,  and  by  rivers  and  moun- 
tains. In  the  north,  beyond  the  Humber  and  the  Mersey,  there 
rises  the  mountainous  portion  of  England  proper.  The  land 
grows  narrower  and  narrower  between  the  North  and  the  Irish 
Seas.  There  is  then  a  fourth  distinct  region,  as  well  from  the 
point  of  view  of  geography  and  geology  as  from  that  of  history. 
To  the  north  of  this  region  another  narrowing  of  the  land  is  pro- 
duced by  the  penetration  of  the  Solway  Firth  and  the  mountain 
walls  which  from  one  sea  to  the  other  separate  the  north  of  Eng- 
land from  Scotland.  From  these  high  plateaus  one  descends  to 
the  low  plains  of  the  Firth  and  of  the  Clyde,  which  form  new 
geographical  divisions.  From  the  plain  one  ascends  new  moun- 
tains, those  of  the  Scotch  Highlands,  with  their  innumerable 
valleys. 

The  Romans  after  the  conquest  still  further  strengthened  these 
natural  divisions  by  walls  and  towers  intended  to  stop  the  incur- 
sions of  the  Highlanders.  Mountains  are  not  in  reality  barriers; 
mountaineer  populations  always  tend  to  occupy  both  slopes  and 
to  descend  into  the  plain,  just  as  the  inhabitants  of  the  plain  tend 
to  ascend  toward  the  heights.  These  are  sociological  movements, 
of  which  geographical  conditions  are  only  particular  factors.  Ire- 
land, likewise,  although  less  elongated  and  more  massive  than  the 
island  east  of  it,  is  also  divided  by  groups  of  mountains  into  dis- 
tinct regions;  hence  its  long  historic  dissensions  and  conflicts. 
However,  its  divisions  constitute,  in  general,  less  of  a  geo- 
graphical unity,  and  are  more  strongly  geological. 

The  Scotch  Highlands  were  to  remain  longest  outside  the 
general  movement  of  civilization.  On  the  other  hand,  the  low 
part  of  England,  especially  at  the  south,  where  it  faces  the  con- 
tinent, was  to  be  the  line  of  contact  rather  than  of  separation, 
where  the  first  peaceful  relations  would  be  established.  There 
civilization  was  to  develop  most  rapidly;  there,  too,  the  capital 
turned  toward  continental  Europe  would  be  fixed. 

It  was  only  after  the  discovery  of  America,  and  the  conse- 
quent industrial  development,  that  g^eat  centers  were  formed  in 


INTRODUCTION   TO  SOCIOLOGY  667 

the  west  of  England,  Birmingham,  Manchester,  Liverpool.  In 
the  meantime,  as  we  have  seen,  the  kingdom  of  Wessex,  which 
occupied  exactly  the  strip  of  coast  facing  the  continent,  was  the 
military  center,  adapted  both  to  the  internal  social  structure  of 
the  British  Isles  and  to  the  relations  with  the  outside  world. 

One  favorable  physical  condition,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  others 
which  were  temporarily  unfavorable  to  the  unification  of  the 
British  Isles,  was  the  climate.  These  islands  are  maritime,  and 
hence  have  a  very  even  and  moderate  temperature.  Ireland,  in 
50°  of  latitude,  has  as  high  a  temperature  as  the  United  States 
at  38° ;  that  is  to  say,  more  than  three  hundred  leagues  to  the 
south.  It  results  from  this  uniformity  of  temperature  that 
acclimatization  in  passing  either  from  Scotland  to  England,  or 
vice  versa,  was  much  easier  than  it  was  in  France  for  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  north  and  south.* 

Although  derived  from  many  diverse  races,  the  present  popu- 
lation of  the  British  Isles  has  been  fused  into  one  in  England  and 
in  the  Scotch  Lowlands.  At  the  time  of  Caesar  the  mass  of  the 
population  were  Celts,  closely  related  to  those  of  Gaul.  In  the 
South,  however,  there  had  already  been  immigrations  of  Belgse; 
that  is,  of  Germanic  elements.  Later,  at  the  time  of  the  great 
migrations  of  the  period  of  the  Roman  decadence,  other  tribes, 
leaving  the  north  of  Germany,  established  themselves  in  England, 
massacring  or  subjugating  the  earlier  inhabitants.  The  south  of 
England,  and  not  the  sea,  ought  to  be  regarded  as  the  true  fron- 
tier zone;  for  it  was  there  that  the  conflicts  and  the  mingling 
occurred.  Frisians  and  Saxons  occupied  particularly  the  basin  of 
the  Thames  and  the  coasts.  The  Angles,  who  came  from  the 
south  of  the  Cimbric  Peninsula,  conquered  from  the  Britons  the 
center  and  the  north  of  England.  Later  there  came  to  mingle 
with  these,  Danes  and  Northmen  from  Scandinavia;  and  later 
still  other  Northmen,  first  transformed  by  French  influence.  This 
was  the  last  violent  conquest  from  without  (1066).  Later  there 
were  still  other  immigrations,  as  the  result  of  the  religious  perse- 
cutions of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  of  fugitives 
from  Flanders,  from  Saintonge,  from  Cevennes,  and  from  the 

^  Elisee  Reclus,  Geographie  universelle. 


668  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Vaudois  valleys.  They  also  mingled  with  the  original  elements. 
Today  peaceful  immigration  still  continues,  introducing  new  ele- 
ments, already  strongly  mixed  themselves,  of  Germans,  Poles, 
and  Russians.  If  in  western  Ireland,  in  a  part  of  the  Scotch 
Highlands,  in  the  mountains  of  Wales,  and  in  Cornwall  the  old 
Celtic  type  still  predominates,  while  on  the  eastern  coast  the 
Angles,  Saxons,  Frisians,  and  Jutes  are  dominant;  if,  farther 
inland  from  Hertford  above  London  to  Durham  south  of  New- 
castle, the  Scandinavian  element  is  very  considerable,  can  one 
seriously  attempt  to  trace  at  the  present  time  the  frontiers  based 
upon  the  ethnic  characters  of  different  populations,  or  indeed 
upon  the  geographical  divisions  of  territory,  when  the  whole  his- 
tory of  civilization  in  the  British  Isles  has  evolved  through  the 
leveling  of  geographical  divisions,  and  the  fusion  of  all  the  ethnic 
varieties?  Military  conquest,  with  its  odious  and  violent  phases, 
notably  in  Ireland,  was  only  the  gross  manifestation  of  this  socio- 
logical law  of  progress  which,  after  having  permitted  the  human 
race  to  colonize  the  planet  through  ethnic  differentiations,  now 
completes  its  work  by  weakening  these  differentiations,  and  yet  at 
the  same  time  multiplying  them  still  more  extensively  through  the 
mingling  of  all  the  varieties  and  subvarieties  of  the  human  species, 
and  especially  by  the  increasing  division  of  social  tasks  —  a  divi- 
sion which  becomes  more  and  more  the  positive  basis  of  collective 
groupings,  from  the  smallest  to  the  most  considerable,  but  all 
equally,  and  better  and  better,  co-ordinated  and  fused  together. 
Here  is  to  be  found  the  law  of  progress,  and  not  in  the  vain  and 
reactionary  attempts  at  the  reconstitution  of  old  ethnical  group- 
ings, whether  in  relation  or  not  to  certain  geographical  frontiers. 
They  deceive  themselves  who  are  continually  talking  about 
the  isolation  of  England  within  her  island.  This  isolation  existed, 
if  it  ever  existed,  in  prehistoric  times.  On  the  contrary,  through 
its  situation,  England  placed  herself  in  the  vanguard  of  Europe; 
and,  better  still,  from  the  Middle  Ages  she  was  the  meeting-place, 
the  mart,  of  all  the  Continental  Occident.  There,  too,  broke  the 
winds  and  waves  from  America;  ships  had  only  to  follow  the 
direction  from  southwest  to  northeast  on  the  return  voyage;  just 
as  in  going  to  America  they  had  only  to  let  themselves  be  carried 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  669 

by  the  trade  winds  and  the  equatorial  current.  London,  as  was 
very  truly  remarked  by  the  illustrious  J.  Herschell,  is  not  far 
from  the  geometric  center  of  all  the  continental  masses.  There, 
too,  all  the  lines  of  navigation  of  the  world  converge,  just  as 
formerly  London  was  the  natural  half-way  station  between  the 
Mediterranean  and  North  Cape.  Nothing  proves  better  than  the 
example  of  England  that  neither  mountains  nor  water-courses, 
neither  seas  nor  oceans,  are  natural  frontiers,  capable  of  serving 
as  the  basis  for  a  theory,  and  still  less  for  practice.  They  are,  at 
the  most,  temporary  obstacles,  the  material  marks  of  social  divi- 
sions in  periods  of  history  which  are  still  primitive.  The  whole 
course  of  evolution,  on  the  contrary,  has  resulted  in  making  the 
island  which  we  have  made  the  type  of  the  most  complete  isola- 
tion, in  spite  of  its  frontiers  so  clearly  defined  by  the  sea,  in  reality 
the  geographical  territory,  the  best  adapted  to  the  most  complete 
social  life.  In  this  connection  the  evolution  of  Japan,  that  Eng- 
land of  the  Far  East,  has  the  same  significance. 

SECTION  IX.  THE  EVOLUTION  OF  FRONTIERS  TO  THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES,  AND 
TO  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD,  AND  THE  PASSAGE  AROUND  THE  CAPE 
OF  GOOD  HOPE 

The  Middle  Ages  were  characterized,  from  the  point  of  view 
of  frontiers,  by  a  continual  displacement ;  states  were  formed  and 
broken  down  again  without  regard  to  geographical  or  ethnic  con- 
ditions. In  711,  Spain  was  wrested  from  the  Visigoths  by  the 
Arabs;  the  peninsula  became  a  province  of  the  empire  of  the 
caliph  of  Damascus !  From  the  year  756  it  became  an  emirate  or 
separate  caliphate,  that  of  Cordova,  until  the  year  1031.  This 
caliphate  included  at  first  Septimania  beyond  the  Pyrenees,  but  it 
was  lost  in  the  year  759.  The  caliphate  never  succeeded  in 
extending  itself  into  the  Asturian  and  Cantabrian  mountain 
region  in  the  northwest.  There  an  independent  Christian  king- 
dom was  established  by  the  most  energetic  mountaineers  and 
refugees.  Successively  Galicia  and  the  whole  coast  as  far  as  the 
Douro  were  annexed  by  the  Mussulmans  and  then  the  whole  basin 
of  the  Douro.  The  two  powers  were  for  the  moment  delimited, 
but  not  separated,  by  the  ranges  of  the  Sierra  de  Credos  and  the 


670  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Sierra  de  Guadarrama.  The  true  frontier  was  of  another  sort; 
between  the  two  states  Alfonso  I  created  a  desert,  a  military 
march  of  the  most  absolute  sort,  without  even  colonization.  In 
spite  of  this,  the  Mussulmans  were  able  to  assume  the  offensive 
and  to  maintain  themselves  upon  the  left  bank  of  the  Douro  until 
the  eleventh  century.  There  was,  moreover,  in  Spain  at '  the 
beginning  of  the  tenth  century,  the  kingdom  of  Navarre,  which 
formed  a  true  independent  march,  and  also  the  Prankish  march 
of  Spain.  Enlarging  itself,  it  became  in  1162  the  kingdom  of 
Aragon,  independent  of  France.  Both  Navarre  and  Spain  ought 
naturally,  in  a  military  organization  of  society,  to  become  impor- 
tant centers  for  political  states. 

As  to  the  Prankish  empire,  it  continued,  like  its  landed  estates, 
to  oscillate  between  unification  and  dismemberment,  according  to 
the  rules  of  law  governing  inheritances.  In  the  year  839  the 
division  enacted  at  the  Diet  of  Worms  reserved  Bavaria  for  the 
second  son  of  Charlemagne,  and  the  remainder  fell,  in  almost 
equal  portions,  to  the  lot  of  the  eldest  and  the  youngest.  The 
latter  had  almost  all  the  territory  comprising  present  Prance, 
together  with  the  greater  part  of  Belgium  at  the  north,  and  the 
Spanish  march  in  the  south.  This  kingdom  thus  included  all  the 
populations  of  ancient  Gaul,  whether  Romanized  or  not,  as  well 
as  Germanic  populations.  The  portion  given  to  Lothair  included 
all  of  the  Germanic  populations,  except  those  of  Flanders  and  of 
Bavaria,  but  also  the  Romance  population^  of  Switzerland  and  of 
Italy. 

A  new  partition  of  territory  was  signed  in  843  at  Verdun. 
"They  took  less  account,"  we  are  told  in  the  historical  atlas  of 
Schrader,  "of  the  richness  and  equality  in  point  of  area  of  the 
portions,  than  of  their  proximity  and  convenience  of  location." 
But  are  not  these  elements  taken  into  consideration  in  all  the  par- 
titions? There  was  already,  however,  a  tendency  toward  a 
change;  the  bond  between  those  who  shared  in  the  division  was 
no  longer  so  close  as  formerly ;  the  treaty  proclaimed  the  absolute 
independence  of  each  of  the  three  corecipients.  Lothair  the  Ger- 
man received  also  in  his  portion  a  large  strip  of  Gallic  territory 
extending  from  the  mouths  of  the  Rhine  to  those  of  the  Rhone, 


INTRODUCTION   TO  SOCIOLOGY  671 

and  inhabited  in  very  large  part  by  people  of  Romance  tongue. 
This  was  to  be  the  point  of  departure  for  all  the  later  attempts  to 
establish  an  intermediate  zone  between  Germany  and  Gaul.  For 
the  moment  this  zone  was  still  an  integral  part  of  the  Lotharin- 
gian  kingdom,  but  it  was  soon  to  form  the  kingdoms  of  Lorraine 
and  of  Aries  or  Burgundy,  which,  long  united  to  the  Germanic 
empire,  was  to  incline  toward  separation  from  it.  Intermediate 
zones  form  a  stage  in  the  evolution  of  frontiers.  They  are  estab- 
lished between  states  which  are  independent,  fortified,  or  even 
hostile,  and  they  introduce  into  their  reciprocal  relations  an  ele- 
ment favorable  to  the  maintenance  of  peace.  They  are  buffers 
destined  to  soften  conflicts;  but,  unfortunately,  they  are  also 
destined,  in  a  period  essentially  military,  to  serve  as  the  field  of 
battle  for  great  states.  Later,  a  system  of  neutrality  for  the  inter- 
mediate states  was  to  coincide  with  fresh  attempts  at  a  political 
equilibration  —  attempts,  however,  always  precarious,  so  long  as 
the  internal  equilibration  of  the  states  should  not  permit  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  peaceful  civilization  founded  no  longer  upon  merely 
political,  but  upon  really  social,  changes. 

The  unity  of  the  Carolingian  empire  was  again  re-established 
for  a  moment  by  Charles  the  Fat,  who  from  876  to  887,  the  year 
when  he  was  deposed  by  his  subjects,  either  inherited  or  took  pos- 
session by  fraud  or  violence  of  all  the  territories  situated  outside 
of  his  own  kingdom.  But  the  empire,  after  his  reign,  was  again 
dismembered  into  five  kingdoms ;  France  was  formed  once  more 
within  the  limits  of  the  treaty  of  Verdun,  and  the  kingdom  of 
Germany  expanded  toward  the  west. 

While  political  sovereignty  tended  continually,  under  the 
feudal  regime,  to  follow  the  same  course  as  feudal  proprietorship, 
now  expanding  and  now  being  divided  up,  and  continually  erect- 
ing frontiers  which  were  no  sooner  fixed  than  removed,  and  yet 
submitting  Europe  to  a  really  uniform  regime  within  a  true  com- 
mon structure,  the  Roman  church,  which  was  also  a  political  state, 
with  political  frontiers  bounding  the  domains  of  the  pajxacy, 
spread  over  almost  all  the  old  Empire  of  the  West,  even  into  Ire- 
land, Germany,  Bohemia,  and  Moravia.  It  passed  even  the 
military  marches  which  were  established  beyond  the  Elbe;   the 


672  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Danish  march,  the  Saxon  march,  and,  still  more  remote,  that  of 
the  Billungs,  a  military  possession  of  the  dukes  of  Saxony,  the 
most  preparious  of  all.  Bishoprics  were  erected  in  the  middle  of 
the  tenth  century  at  Oldenburg,  at  Havelberg,  and  at  Branden- 
burg. From  Germany  Christianity  was  propagated  first  among 
the  Slavs  in  the  North  and  then  among  those  in  the  South.  At 
the  end  of  the  same  century  it  had  spread  from  the  marches  of 
the  Elbe  over  Poland  and  Hungary.  From  the  commencement  of 
the  eleventh  century,  it  was  the  official  religion  of  the  Scandi- 
navian states. 

The  Greek  church  continued  to  hold  a  predominant  place  in 
the  Empire  of  the  East,  in  the  south  of  Italy,  and  in  Bulgaria. 
The  religion  of  Islam  ruled  from  the  Indus  to  Spain,  in  Sicily, 
and  in  Crete.  Judaism  since  the  eighth  century  had  been  the 
official  religion  of  the  Khazars,  a  people  of  Turkish  race  to  the 
north  of  the  Black  Sea  as  far  as  the  Caspian;  but  it  had  spread 
everywhere  in  Europe,  in  Asia,  and  in  Africa.  Finally,  religious 
forms  and  beliefs,  from  the  most  rude  and  simple  ones  up  to 
pagan  polytheism,  still  persisted  for  a  certain  length  of  time  in 
Poland,  in  Hungary,  and  in  Scandinavia.  After  the  conversion 
of  these  countries,  they  held  out  among  the  Finnish  populations, 
among  the  Slavs  of  the  Baltic  —  Pomeranians,  Prussians,  Lithua- 
nians —  and  finally  among  the  people  of  Turkish  race  in  the  south- 
east of  Europe,  Petchenegs  and  Comans,  and  among  the  Bachkirs. 
All  of  these  beliefs,  without  distinction,  while  setting  limits  to  one 
another,  took  no  account  of  either  physical  or  ethnic  barriers; 
they  all  overstepped  the  different  political  frontiers,  and  the  differ- 
ent races,  as  well  as  rivers,  mountains,  and  seas. 

No  political  state  at  this  time,  any  more  than  at  any  time 
before  or  since,  has  been  occupied  by  a  race  entirely  free  from 
mixture,  or  to  the  exclusion  of  other  races.  The  Celts  spread 
into  Ireland,  Scotland,  Cornwall,  and  Wales,  and  into  the  penin- 
sula of  Armorica.  France,  Spain,  Lorraine  and  Burgundy  in 
part,  Italy,  Corsica,  Sardinia,  Sicily,  the  coasts  of  Dalmatia,  and 
Transylvania  were  Romanized.  The  Basques  spread  over  the 
kingdom  of  Navarre,  Alava,  Biscay,  Guipuzcoa,  the  kingdom  of 
Leon,  and  into  a  part  of  Gascony.    The  Scandinavians  occupied 


INTRODUCTION   TO   SOCIOLOGY  673 

Denmark,  Sweden,  Iceland,  and  many  archipelagos  to  the  north 
of  Scotland.  Like  the  Germans,  they  colonized  England.  The 
Germans  were  by  no  means  held  within  the  kingdom  of  Germany, 
but  were  found  as  far  as  the  southern  Crimea.  The  Slavs 
extended  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Adriatic ;  at  the  beginning  of  the 
tenth  century  they  had  just  been  cut  in  two  by  the  Hungarian 
invasion.  They  still  peopled  the  marches  of  the  Elbe,  Pomerania, 
Prussia  proper,  Lithuania,  the  greater  part  of  the  grand  duchy  of 
Russia,  Poland,  White  Croatia,  Moravia,  and  Bohemia.  In  the 
south  they  occupied  Carinthia  and  Carniola  in  the  German  king- 
dom, and  Croatia,  Servia,  and  the  kingdom  of  Bulgaria  besides. 
Turkish  populations  occupied  the  southeast  of  Europe;  and  the 
Ugrians,  Finnish  populations,  the  northeast;  the  latter  were 
joined  by  the  Livonians,  the  Mordvins,  etc.,  and  other  Hunno- 
Ugrian  peoples,  such  as  the  Hungarians  and  the  Bachkirs. 
Finally,  in  the  midst  of  a  considerable  number  of  superimposed 
or  mingled  racial  elements,  the  Greeks  were  dominant  in  the 
part  of  the  Balkan  peninsula  which  had  remained  in  the  power 
of  the  emperors  of  the  East,  but  they  were  spread  over  almost 
the  whole  circumference  of  the  Mediterranean,  in  Europe,  in 
Asia,  and  in  Africa. 

But  nowhere,  in  no  political  grouping,  does  the  race  confuse 
its  frontiers  with  those  of  the  state;  everywhere  also  there  is  a 
tendency  toward  the  juxtaposition  and  the  fusion  of  races.  Add 
to  this  that  the  characters  which  constitute  a  race  are  characters 
acquired  by  differentiation,  selection,  and  adaptation;  characters 
transmitted  by  heredity,  not  original,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
derived;  how  then  can  one  think  of  establishing  political  and 
artificial,  and  above  all  final,  groupings  upon  such  a  fragile  basis  ? 
This  is  no  more  serious  than  to  wish  to  bound  societies  by  moun- 
tains, rivers,  and  basins.  A  society  is  something  more  complex 
than  its  purely  ethnic  factor,  or  than  its  purely  physical  factor; 
society  is  a  combination  of  these  two  factors,  giving  birth  to  a 
new  phenomenon,  the  social  phenomenon.  This  is  the  result  of 
their  combination,  and  not  of  their  simple  addition ;  for  they  are 
different  materials  which  it  is  as  impossible  to  add  as  it  is  pears 
and  apples.    And  that  is  the  reason  why  it  is  impossible,  and  will 


674  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

remain  impossible,  at  any  moment  of  history  to  bring  about  the 
existence  of  a  political  group  embracing  exclusively  one  single 
race,  and  the  whole  of  this  race  within  a  territory  which  is  physi- 
cally delimited.  I  add  that  all  attempts  of  this  sort  are  reaction- 
ary, since  progress  is  realized  above  all  by  the  increasing  multi- 
plication of  the  differentiations,  the  only  natural  process  which 
permits  the  fusion  of  all  the  social  parts  with  the  least  correlative 
and  parallel  intensity  of  strain  as  between  these  parts.  The  true 
and  the  noblest  aim  of  social  science  is  to  lead  the  different  varie- 
ties of  the  human  species  not  to  take  up  positions  apart  from  one 
another,  but  to  live  together,  and  that  without  any  sacrifice  of 
either  their  individual  or  collective  characteristics  with  their 
greater  or  less  degrees  of  originality,  which,  far  from  hindering 
the  unification  of  the  race,  is  in  reality  the  only  thing  which  makes 
it  possible.  It  is  through  variability  and  selection  that  the  species 
has  better  and  better  adapted  itself  to  the  planet,  and  that  the 
planet  has  better  and  better  adapted  itself  to  humanity.  Such  is 
the  natural  process  to  which  it  is  necessary  to  conform,  and  which 
even  military  societies  have  followed,  in  a  violent  and  rude 
fashion,  in  the  determination  of  their  political  frontiers.  It  is 
impossible  to  interpret  their  evolution  otherwise;  at  least,  to 
accept  the  hypothesis  which  consists  in  regarding  as  irrational  and 
contrary  to  nature  all  that  was  accomplished  before  the  epoch  in 
which  we  have  the  exceptional  advantage  of  living  and  thinking 
wisely. 

Among  all  the  races  which  we  have  mentioned,  the  Romance 
populations,  at  this  time  the  most  civilized,  were  also  the  most 
mixed.  As  to  religions,  we  have  already  seen  that  they  are  more 
widely  extended  than  races,  or  than  geographic  and  political  divi- 
sions. Neither  was  feudal  law  contained  within  the  limits  of  a 
single  state;  it  had  become  uniform  in  its  main  lines  in  all  the 
social  groups  equally  evolved.  This  law  itself  corresponded  to  an 
economic  structure,  whose  characteristics  I  have  explained  else- 
where. The  external  frontiers  of  each  political  group  corre- 
sponded then  at  this  time  not  only  to  the  mode  of  sovereignty,  but 
both  corresponded  to  the  whole  of  the  internal  organization  of  the 
group  in  relation  with  the  same  external  elements.     Thus  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  675 

feudal  regime  —  a  regime  not  only  national,  but  international  — 
constituted,  during  a  certain  period,  a  static  state,  an  equilibrium, 
but  an  unstable  one,  as  all  organic,  and  especially  social,  equilibria 
are. 

In  the  tenth  century  alterations  in  the  political  map  of  Europe 
continued.  In  the  south  the  kingdom  of  France  extended  to  the 
west  of  the  Rhone  to  the  detriment  of  Provence,  which  was  ceded 
in  932  to  Burgundy;  this  kingdom  or  that  of  Aries  was  itself 
annexed  to  the  kingdom  of  Germany  in  1032;  the  latter,  more- 
over, recovered  Lorraine  which  for  a  moment  had  been  lost. 
The  Austrian  march  was  overthrown  by  the  Hungarian  invasion; 
but  on  the  northeast  there  were  organized  the  marches  of  the 
Elbe,  which  had  been  taken  from  the  Slavs,  and  the  duchy  of 
Bohemia  passed  under  the  suzerainty  of  the  empire.  In  967  the 
kingdom  of  Italy  was  reunited  to  the  kingdom  of  Germany,  and  to 
the  Empire  of  the  West  under  Otto  the  Great  in  962.  In  the 
tenth  century  the  Empire  of  the  West  passed  to  the  north  of  the 
Eider,  where  the  Danish  march  was  established.  The  Empire  of 
the  East,  after  having  lost  Crete  and  almost  all  of  Sicily,  extended 
its  boundaries  in  the  south  of  Italy.  On  the  other  hand,  the  king- 
doms of  Bulgaria,  Croatia,  and  Servia  were  formed  at  its  expense. 
In  northeast  Europe,  in  the  middle  of  the  ninth  century,  the 
duchy  of  Poland  and  the  grand  duchy  of  Russia  were  set  up. 
The  Norwegians  formed  in  Iceland  a  colony  independent  of  their 
kingdom.  Danish  pirates  founded  the  duchy  of  Normandy  about 
the  year  912.  While  the  frontiers  were  mobile,  the  populations 
became  more  and  niore  settled  in  the  territories  which  they 
occupied. 

At  the  accession  of  Hugo  Capet  in  987,  the  old  division  of 
Gaul  into  pagi,  such  as  existed  under  the  Merovingians,  who 
themselves  had  found  them  in  Roman  Gaul,  still  persisted,  but 
they  were  henceforth  nothing  more  than  administrative  districts. 
In  the  regions  where  Germanic  customs  prevailed,  the  pagi  multi- 
plied through  the  parceling  out  of  the  cities  or  primitive  pagi. 
The  count  was  at  once  the  administrative,  judicial,  and  military 
chief  of  thq  pagus;  from  the  eighth  century  the  name  of  comi- 
catus,  county,  tended  to  be  substituted  for  that  of  pagus.    In  the 


676  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

course  of  the  establishment  of  hereditary  fiefs,  these  counties  gave 
birth  to  the  hereditary  counties  of  feudalism.  Thus  the  internal 
organization  of  feudal  society,  itself  founded  upon  the  regime  of 
proprietorship,  conformed  more  and  more  to  the  general  political 
regime.  In  the  most  Romanized  part  of  Gaul  the  names  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  pagi  were  borrowed  from  those  of  their  chief 
places.  In  the  north,  on  the  contrary,  where  the  conquering  ele- 
ment predominated,  the  name  is  often  that  of  the  principal  water- 
course of  the  district :  Aargau,  Breisg-au,  Oscheret,  Orcrois.  The 
conquerors  had  established  themselves  along  the  water-courses, 
but,  as  always,  upon  both  banks  in  such  a  way  that  the  water- 
course did  not  bound  the  pagus,  but  crossed  it. 

Before  the  accession  of  Hugo  Capet,  France  comprised  nine 
large  principal  fiefs:  Flanders,  Normandy,  France,  Burgundy, 
Guienne,  Gascony,  Toulouse,  the  march  of  Gothia,  and  the 
Spanish  march.  Among  these  there  was  the  private  domain  of 
the  Carolingian  kings.  This  lay  to  the  north  of  the  Seine;  it 
comprised  the  county  of  Laon,  and  the  royal  towns  in  the  basin 
of  the  Oise.  It  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the  possessions  of 
the  count  of  Vermandois,  and  those  of  the  other  lords  of  the  same 
race.  Hugo  Capet,  before  becoming  king,  had  his  duchy  of 
France.  This  duchy  had  itself  sprung  from  a  military  command 
held  in  the  time  of  Charlemagne  and  his  immediate  successors  in 
this  region,  which  was  then  called  the  duchy  of  Mans,  or  the 
march  of  Brittany.  The  military  march  had  created  the  military 
function,  the  dux,  and  the  latter  the  duchy,  which  became  here- 
ditary. The  duchy  of  Brittany  was  itself  divided,  in  911,  by  the 
creation  of  the  duchy  of  Normandy  —  a  creation  indicating  that 
from  this  time  the  march  had  become  useless. 

Hugo,  upon  becoming  king,  possessed  accordingly  his  duchy 
of  France,  the  private  domain  bf  the  Carolingians :  Paris,  Orleans, 
Etamps,  Dreux,  Senlis,  Montreuil-sur-Mer,  important  abbeys 
such  as  those  of  St.  Martin-de-Tours,  St.  Germain-des-Pres,  St 
Denis.  He  had  for  direct  vassals  the  counts  of  Blois,  of  Anjou, 
and  of  Maine.  Among  his  rear-vassals  figured  the  Breton  counts 
of  Rennes  and  of  Nantes.  These  possessions  embraced  several 
basins,  but  only  in  part,  and  had  no  physical  or  natural  frontier. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  677 

This  was  the  center  around  which  the  other  parts  of  what  we  call 
the  French  nationality  successively  attached  themselves.  This 
center  was  necessarily  more  stable  than  these  outer  portions. 
They  continued  to  fluctuate  in  various  directions. 

In  1032  the  kingdom  of  Burgundy  was  attached  to  the  Ger- 
man Empire,  Lorraine,  instead  of  two  duchies,  formed  hence- 
forth only  one.  About  the  same  period  it  also  became  German. 
The  duchy  of  Burgundy,  at  first  attached  to  the  crown  of  France, 
was  again  detached  from  it  in  favor  of  the  younger  brother  of  the 
king.  Even  from  the  political  point  of  view,  the  feudal  regime 
was  always  at  bottom  a  demesnial  organization  of  property, 
according  to  a  hierarchical  order  whose  divisions  were  very  intri- 
cate, like  those  of  landed  estates  themselves.  The  seigneurial 
domains,  although  united  under  a  common  ownership,  might  be 
situated  at  a  distance  from  one  another;  for  some  of  them  one 
might  be  vassal,  and  for  others  lord  paramount.  And  this  was 
the  situation  even  in  the  case  of  kings.  There  were  also  ecclesi- 
astical, episcopal,  and  abbatial  seigniories,  where  spiritual  power 
was  confused  with  temporal  sovereignty.  None  of  these  divisions 
had  water-courses  or  mountains  for  boundaries.  The  ecclesi- 
astical divisions  of  France,  moreover,  had  no  direct  relation  to  the 
seigniories  of  the  bishops  and  the  abbots.  From  the  time  of 
Charlemagne  there  had  been  eighteen  of  these  divisions ;  in  gen- 
eral, they  corresponded  to  the  Roman  provinces  of  the  time  of 
Theodoric  and  of  Honorius.  Even  the  greater  part  of  the  dioceses 
were  identical  in  point  of  territory  with  the  cities  of  the  fourth 
century,  whose  names  they  had  preserved. 

In  the  twelfth  century  the  royal  domain  was  augmented ;  new 
territories  and  populations  attached  themselves  to  the  central 
skeleton,  increasing  the  fixity  and  the  solidity  of  the  structure. 
The  domain  was  carried  to  the  northeast  as  far  as  the  Epte,  to  the 
south  to  Cher ;  toward  the  southeast  it  extended  into  the  basins  of 
the  Loing  and  the  Yonne,  This  extension  was  brought  about 
oftenest  by  purchase,  inheritance,  and  marriage.  The  alienations, 
on  the  other  hand,  were  rare  and  of  little  importance.  At  the 
accession  of  Henry  Platagenet  to  the  throne  of  England  in  1 1 54, 
the  situation  was  of  the  highest  sociological  interest,  and  shows 


678  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

US  that  the  whole  political  organization  of  the  time,  notably  its 
whole  system  of  frontiers,  rested  upon  a  certain  economic  consti- 
tution of  property,  itself  derived,  however,  as  I  think  I  have 
proved  elsewhere,  from  still  more  general  forms  of  traffic.  All 
the  great  fiefs  of  the  west  of  France  found  themselves  regularly 
in  the  possession  of  the  king  of  England.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
boundaries  of  the  kingdom  had  been  extended  in  the  direction  of 
Lyons  by  the  accession  of  the  county  of  Forez  formerly  attached 
to  the  German  empire,  but  far  distant  from  the  center  of  action  of 
that  empire.  It  had  gradually  made  itself  independent  before 
attaching  itself  to  France.  At  this  time  France  was  approaching 
the  Rhone,  but  did  not  yet  touch  it. 

There  were  still  other  modifications  in  the  political  geography 
of  the  great  fiefs  and  of  the  territories  of  the  empire.  We  will 
note  only  the  augmentation  of  the  county  of  Maurienne,  which 
spread  successively  over  Chablais,  the  county  of  Aosta,  Tarentaise, 
Bugey  and  Savoy,  the  marquisate  of  Susa  and  of  Piedmont ;  this 
development  occurred,  like  all  the  others,  by  succession,  marriage, 
fraud,  or  violence.  A  military  state  was  formed  there  which  was 
destined  to  grow  into  a  general  military  structure.  The  title 
count  of  Savoy  little  by  little  came  to  be  substituted  for  that  of 
count  of  Maurienne.  From  its  highlands  the  county  commanded 
the  entrance  to  Italy  in  the  direction  of  the  plains  of  Lombardy, 
where  it  extended  itself  as  far  as  Turin.  This  intermediate  zone 
was  thus  the  cradle  of  a  military  power  which  formed  itself  upon 
the  frontiers,  in  the  least  stable  parts,  at  the  points  of  passage,  as 
in  the  case  of  a  true  march.  In  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  cen- 
turies the  feudal  system  was  at  its  apogee;  the  fiefs  were  subject 
to  numerous  changes  all  resulting  from  usurpations,  conquests, 
marriages,  inheritances,  or  exchanges.  The  boundaries  became 
multiplied  and  complicated,  as  well  as  the  ties  of  the  feudal  con- 
tract. Thus  the  county  of  Champagne,  at  the  time  of  its  greatest 
extent,  in  the  twelfth  century,  comprising  countries  held  in  fief  by 
it,  or  held  in  fief  of  it,  included  not  less  than  sixteen  territorial 
groups,  or  principal  islets.  It  was  dependent  upon  ten  different 
suzerains,  from  the  emperor  of  Germany,  the  king  of  France,  and 
the  duke  of  Burgundy,  to  two  archbishops,  four  bishops,  and  an 


INTRODUCTION  TO  SOCIOLOGY  679 

abbe,  he  of  St.  Denis.  All  these  territories  included  only  parts  of 
the  basins  of  the  Loire  and  of  the  Seine  or  their  tributaries. 

Let  the  theorists  who  proclaim  that  nationalities  are  consti- 
tuted by  river  basins,  or  marked  off  by  water-courses  or  moun- 
tains, try  to  apply  their  systems  to  the  feudal  regime!  Is  it  not 
evident  that  the  whole  external  organization  of  states  during  this 
important  period,  including  the  organization  of  their  frontiers, 
was  related  to  the  internal  organization  of  their  society,  and  that 
their  political  frontiers,  like  all  their  other  boundaries,  were  only 
their  social  frontiers  ? 

And  this  applies  not  only  to  feudal  France.  In  Germany  and 
in  Italy  we  see  that  the  Teutonic  kingdom  which  resulted  at  the 
commencement  of  the  tenth  century  from  the  fusion  of  the  king- 
dom of  the  eastern  Franks  with  Bavaria,  Saxony,  and  Alemania, 
did  not  have  precise  boundaries,  and  did  not  correspond  to  any 
geographical  reality.  On  the  east  the  regnum  Teutonicum  bor- 
dered upon  the  Slavs  and  the  Hungarians;  but  it  no  more  had 
natural  frontiers  than  it  had  as  yet,  differing  from  France,  a 
center  of  gravity.  Four  great  groups  alone  were  to  be  distin- 
guished: Saxony,  extending  from  the  Elbe  to  near  the  Rhine; 
the  Frisians,  along  the  North  Sea,  and  the  peoples  of  Thuringia 
remained  in  part  independent;  the  Franconians  were  upon  both 
banks  of  the  Maine  and  in  the  lower  valley  of  the  Neckar; 
Bavaria,  victorious  over  the  Hungarians,  had  extended  her  dom- 
ination over  Carinthia  and  the  eastern  part  of  Franconia.  Car- 
inthia,  however,  was  to  detach  itself  and  form  a  new  duchy. 
Alemania  or  Swabia,  separated  from  Bavaria  by  the  Lech,  reclined 
on  the  south  upon  the  Alps,  and  on  the  west  upon  the  Vosges, 
from  the  time  of  the  annexation  of  Alsace  in  911.  In  short,  the 
territories  occupied  by  the  Franconians  and  Swabians  did  not 
possess  physical  boundaries;  they  were  to  be  constantly  i)arti- 
tioned;  they  were  to  hold  to  particularism,  both  on  account  of 
their  geographical  complication  and  by  reason  of  social  causes. 
Saxony  and  Bavaria  represented  rather  natural  regions.  The 
first  occupied  the  Germanic  portion  of  the  depressed  lands  lying 
along  the  interior  seas  which  separate  central  from  northern 
Europe,  yet  it  had  no  natural  frontier  toward  the  east,  where  it 


68o  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

became  confused  with  the  Wendic  plain,  nor  to  the  west,  where  it 
joined  the  oceanic  depression  of  Gaul.  As  to  Bavaria  between  the 
Lech  and  the  Ems,  which  were  purely  indicative  frontiers,  and  the 
forest  of  Bohemia  and  the  Alps  always  passable,  and  indeed  pene- 
trated, it  corresponded  in  large  measure  to  the  upper  basin  of  the 
Danube  forming  a  plateau,  in  contrast  with  low  Germany  in  this 
respect.  It  is  thus  that  Saxony  and  Bavaria  were  often  opposed 
to  one  another  in  politics  also,  and  in  customs,  in  law,  and  in 
religion.  Even  Bavarian  socialism  was  to  differ  from  that  of 
Bebel;  but  in  reality  this  division  did  not  constitute  an  absolute 
line  of  demarkation,  any  more  than  did  the  physical  divisions;  on 
the  contrary,  it  represented  a  differentiation  favorable  to  the 
extension  of  socialism  and  to  its  adaptation  to  regions  of  Germany 
which  are  distinct,  but  not  separate. 


THE  AMERICAN  SOCIOLOGICAL  SOCIETY » 

Washington,  D.  C,  February,  1906. 

At  a  conference  recently  held  in  Baltimore  for  the  purpose  of 
discussing  the  wisdom  of  forming  a  national  association  of  sociolo- 
gists designed  to  perform  for  sociology  services  similar  to  those 
rendered  political  economy  by  the  American  Economic  Association, 
about  forty  specialists  in  sociology — representing  twenty-one  educa- 
tional institutions  and  a  dozen  organizations  engaged  in  practical 
sociological  work — decided  to  form  such  an  association  at  once  and 
to  invite  all  persons  interested  in  the  scientific  and  philosophical 
study  of  society  to  become  members.  Among  those  who  attended  the 
conference,  as  well  as  among  the  sixt}'  other  sociologists  who 
expressed  their  views  by  letter,  there  was  an  almost  unanimous 
opinion  that  regular  annual  meetings  of  those  interested  in  the 
promotion  of  sociological  studies  would  advance  the  science  and 
benefit  those  who  are  devoting  themselves  to  it 

Several  European  nations  already  possess  sociological  associa- 
tions which  are  accomplishing  good  results.  What  has  succeeded 
elsewhere  ought  also  to  be  possible  in  the  United  States,  where  there 
is  certainly  as  deep,  as  widespread,  and  as  truly  scientific  an  interest 
in  sociology  as  in  any  other  country. 

Quite  as  much  as  the  economists,  who  formed  a  national  asso- 
ciation twenty  years  ago,  our  sociologists  are  in  need  of  the 
stimulus,  the  encouragement,  and  the  mutual  criticism  which  would 
come  from  an  organization  that  is  national,  permanent,  and  scientific 
in  character.  Theoretical  sociology  has  thus  far  been  built  up 
mainly  through  the  work  of  one-idea  thinkers  who  have  developed 
their  own  views  to  the  neglect  of  much  that  is  valuable  in  the  work 
of  others.  Moreover,  the  relation  between  the  various  aspects  of 
sociology — historical  or  descriptive,  analytical  or  theoretical,  and 
ameliorative  or  practical — has  too  often  been  overlooked.  "Prac- 
tical sociologists"  have  sometimes  known  little  and  cared  less  for 
the  theoretical  and  general  aspects  of  the  subject.  To  bring  these 
several  groups  together  would,  it  was  felt,  help  them  all,  and  at 

^  This  is  a  copy  of  the  circular  lately  issued  by  the  society.  We  publish  it 
in  order  to  assist  the  officers  in  completing  the  membership  as  rapidly  as 
possible. 

681 


682  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  same  time  exalt  sociology  in  the  eyes  of  the  general  public.  The 
new  society,  therefore,  has  been  founded  with  the  hope  of  securing 
the  active  co-operation  of  scientific  philanthropists  as  well  as  of 
persons  engaged  in  academic  instruction,  of  sociological  writers  as 
well  as  of  sociological  workers — of  all  those  who  recognize  the 
importance  of  the  scientific  aspects  of  sociology. 

The  membership  fee  is  three  dollars  a  year,  or  fifty  dollars  for 
life  membership.  Each  member  will  receive  a  copy  of  the  current 
publications  of  the  society.  You  are  cordially  invited  to  join  by 
filling  out  the  inclosed  [appended]  blank  and  sending  it  to 

Professor  C.  W.  A.  Veditz, 
George  Washington  University,  Washington,  D.  C. 


1906 

To  the  Secretary  of  the  American  Sociological  Society  : 

Dear  Sir  :  I  desire  to  become  a  member  of  the  American  Sociological 
Society.  Inclosed  please  find  three  dollars  in  payment  of  the  dues  for  the  year 
ending  December  31,  1906. 


.1906 


To  the  Secretary  of  the  American  Sociological  Society  : 

Dear  Sir  :   I  desire  to  become  a  life  member  of  the  American   Sociologi- 
cal Society.     Inclosed  please  find  fifty  dollars  in  payment  of  dues  for  same. 


ERRATUM 

In  the  January  number  of  the  Jourtial,  in  the  article  on  "The 
Literary   Interests  of   Chicago,"   page   516,   line    19   from   top 
should  read: 
as  sole  proprietor,  the  Dial  has  grown  in  prestige  until  today,  in 


REVIEWS 


Government  Regulation  of  Railway  Rates:  A  Study  of  the 
Experience  of  the  United  States,  Germany,  France,  Austria- 
Hungary,  Russia  and  Australia.  By  Hugo  Richard 
Meyer,  Assistant  Professor  of  Political  Economy  in  the 
University  of  Chicago.  New  York:  The  Macmillan  Co., 
1905.    Pp.  xxvii  +  486.* 

The  author  is  a  decided  opponent  of  state  railway  systems,  and 
of  all  regulation  of  railwrys  and  railway  tariffs  by  the  government: 
"for  it  is  the  verdict  of  all  experience  that  governments  will  not, 
and  cannot,  make  railway  rates  that  will  meet  the  needs  of 
expanding  trade  and  industry"  (p.  xvii) — a  most  emphatic  and 
very  harsh  verdict,  which  this  professor  (care  should  be  taken  not 
to  confound  him  with  Professor  Balthasar  H.  Meyer,  now  railway 
commissioner  of  Wisconsin)  attempts  to  prove  from  the  experiences 
which  Germany,  Austria-Hungary,  France,  Russia,  and  Australia 
have  had  with  government-made  freight  tariffs,  and  the  United 
States  with  company-made  tariffs.  According  to  our  author,  we 
find,  on  the  one  hand,  in  the  countries  in  which  the  state  influences 
the  tariffs,  heavy  shadows,  dense  mediaeval  darkness;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  privately  made  tariffs  of  the  United  States  reflect 
nothing  but  clear  light,  sparkling  sunshine,  which  would  beam  still 
more  brightly  if  the  error  had  not  been  made  in  the  United  States 
of  restricting  the  freedom  of  the  exemplary  railways  through  the 
enactment  of  the  Interstate  Commerce  Act  and  the  institution  of 
the  Interstate  Commerce  Commission.  Part  I  of  Professor  Meyer's 
book,  composed  of  eight  chapters  (pp.  1-203),  depicts  the  per- 
nicious effect  of  state  railway  tariffs,  while  Part  II  (pp.  203--473), 
portnays  the  magnificent,  overwhelming  economic  results  of  the 
far-sighted  tariff  policy  of  the  railways  of  the  United  States. 

This  is  undoubtedly  an  entirely  new  conception — new  not  only 
to  the  German,  but  also  to  the  American  reader.     It  is  seldom  that 

*  Translation  of  a  review  by  Dr.  Alfred  von  der  Leyen,  of  the  Prussian 
ministry  of  public  works,  Berlin ;  published  in  the  Archiv  fur  Eisenbahnwesen 
for  January-February,  1906. 

683 


684  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

an  American  has  the  opportunity  of  reading  such  a  spirited  song 
of  praise  regarding  his  own  railways,  and  such  a  hard,  depreciative 
judgment  with  respect  to  the  work  of  the  Interstate  Commerce 
Commission,  which  is  charged  with  the  supervision  of  rates 
affecting  interstate  traffic  by  the  Interstate  Commerce  Act  of  Feb- 
ruary 4,  1887, 

It  is  a  different  question  whether  the  author  has  succeeded  in 
proving  his  case.  This  question  is  of  greater  interest  to  American 
than  to  German  readers.  During  the  winter  of  1905  President 
Roosevelt  himself  launched  a  movement  against  the  existing  tariff 
policy  of  the  American  railways.  The  President  has  expressed  the 
opinion  that  the  tariff  policy  affects  the  common  interests  unfa- 
vorably ;  he  regards  it  necessary  that  the  federal  government  exercise 
a  more  effective  supervision  of  these  tariffs,  and  that  the  Interstate 
Commerce  Commission  receive  enlarged  powers  over  the  railways. 
A  bill  embodying  these  views  passed  the  House  of  Representatives, 
but  not  the  Senate.  In  May  and  June,  1905,  ihe  Senate  Committee 
on  Interstate  Commerce  had  extended  hearings  on  the  subject,  and 
the  testimony  is  published  in  five  large  volumes.  The  message  to 
Congress  of  December,  1904,  again  called  the  attention  of  that 
body,  in  still  more  emphatic  words,  to  the  necessity  of  controlling 
railway  tariffs  through  public  authority.  Whether  the  President 
will  succeed  remains  to  be  seen.  At  all  events,  he  has  succeeded 
in  greatly  arousing  public  opinion,  and  has  created  anxiety  on  the 
part  of  the  powerful  railway  managements.  A  rescuer  has  arisen 
for  these  railways  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Meyer,  who,  equipped  with 
what  has  the  appearance  of  a  mighty  scientific  armament,  attempts 
to  show  how  objectionable  the  efforts  of  the  government  of  his 
fatherland  have  been. 

However,  the  first  part  of  his  book  was  written  and  published 
before  President  Roosevelt  had  advanced  his  views.  Meyer's 
studies  concerning  state  railway  tariffs  in  European  states  and  in 
Australia  appeared  between  July  10  and  October  9,  1903,  in  that 
excellent  American  publication,  the  Railway  Age;  also  the  chapter 
on  Prussian  tariff  policy,  concerning  which  the  author  deems  it 
prudent  to  remain  silent  in  his  preface  (p.  ix).  The  short  chapter 
on  France  (pp.  123-36)  is  new.  If  the  author  did  not  resolve 
until  later  to  oppose  the  railway  policy  of  his  government,  he 
naturally  could  make  good  use  of  these  articles.  In  his  testimony 
before  the  Senate  committee,  on  May  4  and  5,  1905  (Vol.  II,  pp. 


REVIEWS  68$ 

1552  ff.  of  the  report),  the  author  repeated  much  of  what  he  had 
theretofore  written  in  these  articles. 

If  in  the  following  review  I  enter  upon  details,  more  than  would 
be  necessary  for  German  readers,  regarding  Professor  Meyer's 
utterance  with  respect  to  state  railway  rate  policy,  I  do  so  in  the 
hope  that  these  lines  may  also  come  under  the  observation  of 
American  readers.  In  my  estimation  it  cannot  be  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  us  that  views  Hke  these,  presented  with  great  con- 
fidence and  apparently  resting  upon  thorough  investigations,  should 
take  root  in  the  United  States.  The  railway  questions  which  at 
present  are  agitating  America  have  only  academic  interest  for  us. 

Let  us  see  upon  what  the  author  bases  his  derogatory  verdict 
regarding  the  freight  tariffs  of  the  Prussian  state  railways.  Not 
by  the  method  of  presenting  to  Americans  the  German  tariff  system, 
German  basal  rates,  etc.,  and  then  attempting  to  prove  that  this 
system  is  an  erroneous  one ;  that  rates  are  incorrectly  established ; 
that  trade  and  industry  generally  suffer  from  these  rates,  and 
are  incapable  of  adequate  development,  etc.  Rather  he  contents  him 
self  with  saying  in  two  pages  (pp.  3-5)  that  our  freight  rates  are 
composed  of  two  parts,  terminal  charges  and  movement  expenses. 
The  remainder  of  his  discussion  is  intended  to  show,  on  the  basis 
of  a  few  examples  taken  from  German,  partially  very  prejudiced 
sources,  that  under  such  a  system  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  conflicts 
between  different  branches  of  industry  and  industrial  sections,  and 
that  the  effective  competition  of  railways  with  waterways  is 
thereby  prevented.  The  fundamental  defect  of  Prussian  rates, 
according  to  the  author,  is  their  lack  of  elasticity,  that  they  are  not 
constructed  on  a  falling  scale,  and  that  they  cannot  be  thus  con- 
structed in  accordance  with  the  accepted  principles.  However,  on 
the  same  page  on  which  the  author  advances  this  bold  assertion  he 
has  the  misfortune  to  cite  Special  Tariff  III,  ivhich  is  constructed 
on  a  falling  scale.  In  addition  to  these  regular  tariffs,  as  is  well 
known,  piece-goods  rates  and  express-piece-goods  rates  are  tapering 
rates;  and  there  lies  before  me  a  compilation  which  shows  that  in 
May  last  there  were  not  less  than  sixty-one  commodity  rates, 
including  those  for  the  most  important  bulky  goods  (wood,  all 
kinds  of  raw  material,  fertilizers,  ores,  etc.),  which  were  con- 
structed on  the  falling  scale;  and  carload  rates  on  live  stock  are 
tapering  rates.  It  is  therefore  a  gross  misrepresentation  of  facts 
when  the  author  says: 


686  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

And  today  in  Prussia  their  introduction  is  opposed  by  two  powerful 
forces.  One  of  these  is  the  Prussian  government's  fear  of  temporary  or 
permanent  loss  of  revenue;  the  other,  the  jealousy  of  the  sectional  interests 
and  trade  interests  that  are  concerned  about  the  preservation  of  the  estab- 
lished course  of  trade  and  industry. 

Among  the  examples  of  erroneous  tariff  construction  which 
Meyer  recites,  the  first  is  the  cancellation  of  the  tapering  rates  on 
grain,  which  were  withdrawn  in  the  year  1894  in  order  to  make 
possible  the  ratification  of  the  Russian  treaty  of  commerce  of  that 
time.  This  example  is  chosen  not  without  skill,  since  uncertainty 
existed  then,  and  even  today  opinions  differ  with  respect  to  the 
correctness  of  this  procedure.  But  it  proves  nothing  with  respect 
to  the  inability  of  the  state  to  make  railway  tariffs,  because  in 
cases  where  such  complications  of  economic  policy  did  not  exist 
the  older  tapering  grain  rates  were  maintained  (such  as  the  graded 
mileage  rates  of  the  Prussian  Eastern  Railway)  ;  indeed,  new 
tapering  rates  for  the  export  of  grain  were  introduced,  which  fact, 
however,  was  known  to  Professor  Meyer.  The  second  illustration 
he  claims  to  find  in  the  export  rates  on  sugar.  It  is  true  that  their 
adoption  was  preceded  by  extensive  investigations,  but  nevertheless 
they  were  finally  introduced,  as  he  himself  states  on  p.  15.  And 
with  this  all  his  preceding  assertions  fall  to  the  ground.  On  p.  16 
he  claims  that  the  restriction  on  workmen's  return  tickets  is 
connected  with  this  question.  Herein  lies  a  remarkable  misunder- 
standing. Meyer  confuses  the  return  tickets  of  laborers  with  the 
reductions  in  party  tickets  for  the  so-called  season  laborers  who, 
it  is  true,  are  attracted  in  part  by  beet  culture.  But  in  both  cases  the 
question  is  one  of  beets.  The  reduced  rates  for  the  so-called 
season  laborers  have  never  been  canceled.    They  exist  today. 

Then  Professor  Meyer  takes  up  the  question  of  the  ore  tariffs 
from  Lorraine-Luxemburg  to  Westphalia.  Before  their  introduc- 
tion, too,  difficulties  had  to  be  overcome,  and  the  question  was 
investigated  very  thoroughly;  but  finally,  on  June  i,  1901,  they 
were  introduced,  and  this  Mr.  Meyer  conceals.  And  with  this  the 
entire  edifice,  constructed  from  material  brought  together  from 
many  sources,  collapses.  The  author  in  his  statements  has  confused 
fact  and  fiction  to  such  an  extent  that  it  would  require  considerably 
more  space  to  uncover  his  errors  in  detail  than  these  through-and- 
through  confused  statements  themselves  occupy,  and  out  of  all 
of  which  only  this  remains  true,  that  there  are  in  Prussia,  as  in  all 


REVIEWS  687 

parts  of  the  world,  people  who  are  dissatisfied  with  certain  rates 
and  desire  reductions. 

The  second  chapter  is  devoted  chiefly  to  a  discussion  of  the 
competition  of  railways  and  waterways.  Professor  Meyer  con- 
siders it  the  duty  of  the  railways  to  maintin  the  strongest 
possible  competition  with  waterways.  That  this  competition  is 
not  directed  more  strenuously  against  the  Rhine,  the  Elbe,  or  the 
Oder  meets  with  his  disapproval ;  and  he  cannot  understand  why 
the  railways  should  permit  the  natural  waterways  to  carry  an 
increasing  tonnage ;  it  is  their  duty,  according  to  his  views,  to 
adjust  their  tariffs  in  such  a  manner  that  all  freight  is  hauled  by 
the  railways  and  the  waterways  lie  waste.  Furthermore,  the  author 
cannot  understand  why  the  Prussian  government  does  not  favor 
the  Prussian  port  of  Stettin,  by  means  of  railway  tariffs,  in  such 
a  manner  that  it  can  compete  more  effectually  than  heretofore 
with  Hamburg.    On  p.  45  he  states : 

While  the  Prussian  government  and  the  German  people  generally 
believe  it  a  patriotic  act  to  cut  railway  rates  against  foreign  cities,  such  as 
Rotterdam,  they  would  not  approve  any  departure  from  their  uniform 
system  of  rates  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening  one  German  city  as  against 
another. 

Naturally,  Meyer  considers  it  equally  absurd  to  constnict  a 
canal  between  Stettin  and  Berlin.  It  is  entirely  incomprehensible 
to  him  why  the  state  railways  did  not  prevent  the  deflection  of  a 
large  part  of  the  petroleum  trade  of  Bremen  to  the  waterways.  It 
is  not  enough  for  him  that  low  commodity  rates  on  petroleum  are 
in  force  from  Bremen  to  southern  and  western  Germany ;  although 
even  these  low  rates  are  frequently  met  by  the  tank-ships  via 
Rotterdam  and  the  Rhine.  This  struggle  for  the  petroleum  trade 
should  have  led  to  the  reduction  of  rates  by  rail  also  to  the  east, 
to  Berlin,  and  to  Magdeburg!  In  consequence  of  this  mistaken 
rate  policy  the  oil  trade  has  been  driven  from  Bremen  to  Hamburg. 

That  with  such  views  Professor  Meyer  is  a  still  more 
pronounced  opponent  of  artificial  waterways  and  of  canal  construc- 
tion is  not  surprising.  In  the  fourth  chapter  a  short  summary  is 
given  of  the  various  attempts  to  carry  a  canal  bill  through  the 
Prussian  parliament  during  the  last  few  years.  He  advances  the 
same  objections  to  the  first  two  canal  bills  which  were  urged  by 
opponents  of  canals  with  us.  The  fate  of  the  last  canal  bill  is  not 
mentioned.    No  mention  is  made  of  the  fact  that  in  the  elaboration 


688  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  this  bill  an  attempt  was  made  to  overcome  the  objections  of  the 
opponents  to  the  canal,  and  to  incorporate  provisions  whereby  the 
co-operation  of  rail  and  waterways  was  to  be  assured  in  the  future 
for  the  general  welfare.  All  these  difficult  questions  have  been 
thoroughly  and  exhaustively  discussed  within  the  last  few  years, 
in  parliament  as  well  as  in  the  daily  and  technical  press.  Nor  are 
they  unknown  to  the  American  public.  I  need  only  to  recall  the 
fight  for  the  improvement  of  the  Erie  Canal,  the  competition  of 
the  railways  with  the  Great  Lakes,  and  the  plans  for  an  artificial 
waterway  from  the  Great  Lakes  to  the  Mississippi.  In  Germany 
and  in  Prussia  this  question  has  long  been  viewed  from  a  higher 
plane,  even  during  the  time  in  which  private  railways  still 
existed.  The  opinion  has  always  obtained  that  the  natural  water- 
ways had  a  right  to  exist  alongside  the  railways.  The  interests  of 
traffic  in  general  have  been  rated  higher  than  the  exclusive  finan- 
cial interests  of  the  railways.  Whether  or  not  the  waterways  have 
occasionally  been  favored  too  much  is  a  question  which  I  do  not 
desire  to  discuss  on  this  occasion.  At  all  events,  the  railway  traffic 
has  developed  substantially  alongside  the  waterways ;  and,  to  put 
it  mildly,  it  is  gross  exaggeration  on  the  part  of  Professor  Meyer 
when  he  maintains  that  the  Prussian  railways  have  been  degraded 
into  mere  feeders  for  the  waterways.  But  this  question  also  is 
certainly  not  connected  with  the  assumed  inferiority  of  the  state  in 
making  rates  as  compared  with  private  enterprise!  The  illustra- 
tion of  the  commodity  rates  on  sugar  which  Professor  Meyer 
presents  proves  exactly  the  opposite.  Furthermore,  the  fierce  wars 
of  the  American  trunk  lines  for  the  grain  trade  on  the  Erie  Canal 
are  by  no  means  a  glorious  page  in  the  history  of  American  rail- 
way tariffs. 

The  third  chapter  of  Meyer's  book  deals  with  the  financial 
policy  of  the  Prussian  railways,  which  are  accused,  by  means  of 
arguments  well  known  here  and  amply  refuted,  of  being  operated 
too  much  in  the  interests  of  the  state  treasury.  In  this  attempt — 
which  is  again  highly  characteristic  of  his  entire  method  of  proof — 
he  joins  the  economic  crisis  of  1873  with  the  alleged  mistaken 
financial  policy  of  the  year  1891  and  following.  He  claims  that, 
instead  of  obtaining  great  surplus  earnings  from  the  railways,  it 
should  have  been  the  object  of  the  administration  to  reduce  rates, 
to  extend  the  system,  to  increase  the  number  of  cars,  and  especially 
to  purchase  larger  cars.     Here  we  meet  all  the  well-known  asser- 


REVIEWS  689 

tions  which  have  occasionally  been  made  by  a  few  of  our  magnates, 
from  whose  arsenal  Mr.  Meyer  secured  his  weapons.  Professor 
Meyer  passes  in  silence  over  the  proof,  brought  forward  time  and 
time  again  in  parliament  and  elsewhere,  how  greatly  these  charges 
have  been  exr-v^rerated.  Altho '^h  otherwise  apparent  y  a  diligent 
reader  of  the  Archiv  fiir  Eisenhahnwesen,  Professor  Meyer  has 
seen  fit  utterly  to  disregard  the  article  published  in  the  January 
number  of  the  preceding  year,  on  the  development  of  the  freight 
tariffs  of  the  Prussian-Hessian  state  railways,  in  which  these  very 
questions  were  treated  with  great  thoroughness,  supported  by  a 
wealth  of  illustrative  material. 

These,  in  the  main,  are  the  arguments  by  means  of  which 
Professor  Meyer  attempts  to  prove  the  premises  set  forth  in  the 
opening  chapter  of  his  book.  They  are  directed  less  against  the 
tariffs  than  against  the  system  of  state  railways  as  such.  The 
author  seems  to  occupy  an  entirely  different  viewpoint  from  ours, 
and  it  would  be  entirely  superfluous  were  I  in  this  place  to  take  up 
with  him  the  discussion  of  the  question  of  the  justification  of  the 
state  railway  system  in  Germany.  For  a  long  time  there  has  been 
no  difference  of  opinion  in  Germany  that  a  state  railway  system 
deserves  the  preference  over  private  railway  systems.  Professor 
Meyer  apparently  cannot  realize  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  state  to 
administer  the  great  monopolies  of  transportation  as  a  unified 
system  in  accordance  with  the  principle  of  the  welfare  of  the  great 
masses.  The  professor  continually  moves  about  in  contradictions, 
declaring  on  one  page  that  the  state  can  make  tariffs  only  with  the 
yard-stick,  and  on  the  next  criticising  it  for  making  certain  excep- 
tions. He  also  confuses  his  readers  continually  by  rehearsing  the 
difficulties  which  are  encountered  in  adjusting  certain  tariffs  in 
such  a  manner  that  they  will  be  beneficial  on  the  one  hand,  and  not 
injurious  on  the  other,  and  then  carefully  omitting  to  tell  how  the 
state  has  succeeded,  in  nearly  every  case  cited  by  him,  in  arriving 
at  a  satisfactory  solution — to  be  sure,  only  after  a  very  careful 
investigation  of  all  the  circumstances  entering  into  the  situation. 
And  whether  this  method  of  procedure,  which  may  sometimes  be 
a  little  tedious,  deserves  the  preference  over  the  practice  obtaining 
in  America,  according  to  which  the  great  railways  judge  economic 
questions  chiefly  by  their  own  subjective  estimates,  and  from  the 
viewpoint  of  their  own  interest  or  that  of  favored  shippers,  is  a 
matter  with  respect  to  which  no  German — and,  I  am  convinced, 
not  all  American  traffic  men — are  in  the  least  m  doubt. 


690  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  American  reader  may  possibly  be  impressed  with  the  many 
source-references  and  figures  cited  by  Professor  Meyer.  One  would 
think  him,  in  consequence  of  this,  uncommonly  well  read  and  an 
expert  of  a  high  order.  But  this  appearance  is  deceiving.  In  the 
illustrations  which  have  been  given  above  I  have  been  able  to  show 
how  superficially  Professor  Meyer  has  done  his  reading.  Here  I 
may  add  a  few  further  examples,  picked  up  at  random.  On  pp.  26 
and  27  he  states  that  the  Society  of  German  Railway  Administra- 
tions is  a  union  of  officials  of  the  various  German  state  railways! 
Everybody  knows  that  this  society  embraces  all  German,  Austria- 
Hungarian,  and  several  neighboring  state  railways  as  well  as 
private  railways.  On  p.  148  he  asserts  that  Posen  is  a  port  situated 
on  the  Oder  near  the  Galician  border.  The  statement,  on  p.  358, 
that  a  Prussian  minister,  angered  over  certain  transportation 
difficulties,  had  recently  uttered  the  words,  "Commerce  be  hanged," 
is  simply  a  fabrication  of  the  author. 

In  closing  this  review,  I  will  take  up  the  following  example, 
which  is  especially  characteristic  of  the  method  of  work  of  this 
author.    On  p.  158  Professor  Meyer  states: 

And  within  the  city  limits  of  Berlin  one  can  count,  and  smell,  upward  of 
14,000  cows,  kept  there  to  supply  the  population  with  milk  that  the  railways 
are  not  allowed  to  bring  from  a  distance. 

The  assertion  is  repeated  in  the  following  words  on  p.  387,  after 
the  author  has  described  how  the  railways  supply  New  York  with 
milk  and  cream: 

And  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1902  the  firm  of  Von  Bolle  was  stabling 
within  the  city  of  Berlin  14,000  milch  cows,  which  supplied  milk  to  50,000 
families.  In  addition,  there  were  in  the  suburbs  of  Berlin  hundreds  of 
dairies,  each  one  stabling  a  considerable  number  of  milch  cows. 

In  the  last  citation  the  source  from  which  Meyer  claims  to  have 
taken  his  statement  is  given.  It  is  the  Zeitnng  des  Vereins  deutscher 
Eisenbahnverwaltungen  of  October  29,  1902.  Now  let  us  see  what 
that  paper  says : 

//  is  reported  that  the  well-known  dairy  of  Bolle  in  Berlin  has  a  supply 
of  14,000  cows,  which  furnish  daily  about  85,000  liters  of  fresh  milk  to  meet 
the  demand  of  50,000  households.  Besides  this,  there  are  in  the  suburbs 
several  hundred     larger  dairies  which  send  their  milk  wagons  into  Berlin, 

Up  to  this  point  Professor  Meyer  has  copied  with  tolerable 
accuracy,  except  that  he  states  as  a  fact  that  which  his  reference 
merely  states  as  a  report.    But  his  reference  continues : 


REVIEWS  691 

But  this  is  not  nearly  enough.  Millions  of  liters  of  milk  are  brought  in 
from  the  open  countiy,  some  of  it  from  a  great  distance,  principally  by  the 
railways. 

Then  follows  a  detailed  description  of  the  facilities  which  the  rail- 
ways have  provided  for  bringing  in  milk,  such  as  low  rates,  fast 
trains,  convenient  train  schedules,  reductions  for  sending  back 
empties,  etc. ;  and  from  these  facts  the  conclusion  is  drawn  that  in 
this  manner  the  public  as  well  as  the  railways  receive  their  just 
dues.  Yet  all  this  Professor  Meyer  omits,  although  he  certainly 
must  have  read  this  article.  He  would  have  his  readers  believe  that 
all  Berlin  is  dependent  on  the  milk  produced  in  Bolle's  dairies.  It 
is  his  purpose  to  give  a  very  striking  illustration  of  the  backward- 
ness of  Prussian  freight  rates.  Having  this  in  mind,  it  does  not 
suit  his  convenience  that  just  in  this  matter  the  Prussian  railways 
have  performed  splendid  service;  and  since  the  evidence  does  not 
support  his  line  of  argument,  he  suppresses  th^  facts  which  do  not 
suit  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  of  the  250,000,000  liters  of  milk 
which  were  consumed  in  Berlin  in  the  year  1902,  44,700,000  were 
produced  in  Berlin,  25,400,000  were  brought  into  the  city  on 
wagons,  and  180,000,000  were  brought  in  by  rail.  (Statistical 
Y ear-Book  of  the  City  of  Berlin,  1903,  p.  314.)  We  are  also 
enabled  to  state  more  exactly  the  figures  representing  the  number 
of  dairy  cows  than  the  source  from  which  Professor  Meyer  quotes. 
According  to  a  special  census,  there  were  in  1902  in  Berlin,  Char- 
lottenburg,  Schoneberg,  and  Rixdorf  together  (not  in  Berlin 
alone)  only  11,431  (not  14,000)  milch  cows,  which  produced  the 
above  mentioned  44,700,000  liters.  The  milk  that  came  by  rail 
originated  at  216  stations,  of  which  198  are  in  the  province  of 
Brandenburg,  11  in  the  province  of  Saxony,  etc.  Further  details 
Professor  Meyer  may  read  in  the  official  statistics  of  the  city  of 
Berlin,  Vol.  I,  1903.  According  to  these  statistics,  he  has  turned 
the  facts  upside  down,  deliberately,  in  order  to  cause  hilarity  among 
his  readers,  if  he  has  read  the  article;  or  he  read  only  the  first 
sentence  of  his  reference.  In  either  case  this  is  a  method  of  pro- 
cedure which  one  has  a  right  not  to  expect  in  a  scientific  book. 

I  can  pass  over  more  lightly  the  following  chapters.  The 
French  tariffs  are  faulty,  according  to  Professor  Meyer,  because 
they  make  energetic  competition  against  the  waterways  impossible. 
He  claims  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  railways  of  Austria-Hungary 
and  of  the  regions  of  the  lower  Danube  to  transport  agricultural 


69a  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

products  of  the  east  to  Germany  by  means  of  low  graded  mileage 
rates.  These  railways,  like  the  Russian,  especially  the  Siberian 
Railway,  ought  to  follow  the  example  of  the  American  railways ; 
then  the  agriculture  of  the  Danubian  provinces  and  Siberia  would 
blossom  forth  like  that  of  the  great  American  west  (p.  177).  In 
this  Meyer  overlooks  the  fact  that  eastern  Europe  and  the  German 
Empire  are  not  a  unified  economic  domain ;  and  that  European  states 
still  maintain,  what  is  to  him  an  entirely  antiquated  point  of  view, 
that  the  policy  of  customs  duties  and  the  freight-rate  policy  shall  not 
negative  each  other.  Professor  Meyer,  of  course,  maintains  the 
direct  contrary,  when  in  another  place  (p.  340  ff.)  he  considers  it 
utterly  false  that  the  Interstate  Commerce  Commission  does  not 
regard  as  permissible  railroad  rates  which  render  nugatory  the 
federal  tariff  legislation.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  point  out  that 
a  comparison  of  Siberia  with  the  Far  West  of  the  United  States 
is  ludicrous,  except  that  I  wish  to  use  this  as  an  example  of  Meyer's 
method.  He  claims  that  the  Russian  government  has  impeded  the 
development  of  the  grain  industry  in  Siberia  by  a  faulty  policy  of 
its  state  tariffs.    On  p.  1 78  he  says  : 

Therefore  it  is  worth  while  to  recount  what  the  Siberian  peasant  has 
been  made  to  do  under  the  incentive  of  gain,  in  the  single  instance  in  which 
the  railways  are  free  to  co-operate  with  men  of  enterprise  and  capital  in 
the  development  of  Siberia's  resources. 

This,  he  claims,  was  the  result  of  lower  rates  for  the  exportation  of 
butter.  Hence  this  same  Siberian  Railway  is  at  one  time  an 
irrational  state  railway,  and  at  another  an  intelligently  operated 
private  railway!  And  the  best  part  of  it  all  is  that  it  was  just  the 
Russian  government  that  has  always  promoted  the  dairy  interests 
and  the  exportation  of  butter  from  Siberia  in  every  way  possible. 

(The  remainder  of  von  der  Ley  en's  review  is  devoted  chiefly  to 
Professor  Meyer's  comments  on  American  conditions,  closing  with 
the  following  paragraph :) 

I  should  regret  it  exceedingly  if  the  very  one-sided  and,  so  far 
as  our  railway  conditions  come  into  consideration,  often  absolutely 
untruthful  representations  of  Meyer's  book  should  interfere  with 
what  seems  to  me  a  very  wholesome  movement  on  the  part  of  the 
American  government  with  respect  to  railway  policy,  and  possibly 
to  thwart  the  strivings  of  the  President  of  the  Union. 

Dr.  a.  v.  d.  Leyen. 

Berlin. 


REVIEWS  693 

Source  Book  of  the  History  of  Education  for  the  Greek  and 
Roman  Period.     By  Paul  Monroe.     New  York:     The 
Macmillan  Co.,  1901.     Pp.  515. 
A  Text-Book  in  the  History  of  Education.     By  Paul  Monroe. 
New  York:     The  Macmillan  Co.,   1905.     Pp.  772. 

These  two  volumes  supply  a  long-felt  need  in  the  teaching  of  the 
history  of  education.  The  Source  Book,  which  was  the  first  to 
appear  (1901),  covers  the  Greek  and  Roman  period,  and  is  the 
first  of  a  series  of  such  source-books  intended  to  supplement  the 
Text-Book,  which  has  just  appeared   (1905). 

The  Source  Book,  without  attempting  a  definition  either  of 
history  or  of  education,  presents  the  most  important  selections  from 
the  literary  sources  relating  to  education  "in  the  accepted  historic 
meaning  of  the  term — that  of  a  definitely  organized  institutional 
attempt  to  realize  in  individuals  the  ideals  controlling  a  given 
people." 

This  volume  is  designed  as  a  text;  hence  the  sources  are  classified  into 
periods,  in  order  to  afford  the  student  aid  in  their  interpretation,  and  each 
group  of  sources  is  accompanied  by  a  brief  introductory  sketch  indicating 
the  general  setting  of  the  period  to  which  it  belongs  and  the  main  principles 
of  interpretation  to  be  followed.  These  introductory  chapters  furnish  little 
more  than  a  syllabus  for  study;  the  interpretation  is  purposely  left  in  a 
large  degree  to  the  student. 

Greek  education  is  divided  into  four  main  periods  or  phases: 
old  Greek  education,  for  which  the  sources  are  Plutarch,  Thu- 
cydides,  Xenophon,  and  Plato;  new  Greek  education,  with  selections 
from  Aristophanes,  Isocrates,  and  Plato;  the  Greek  educational 
theorists — Socrates,  Xenophon,  Plato,  and  Aristotle — representing 
the  historical,  the  philosophical,  and  the  scientific  views  (with 
selections  from  the  Cyropoedia  of  Xenophon,  the  Republic  and  the 
Laws  of  Plato,  and  the  Politics  of  Aristotle)  ;  and  later  cosmo- 
politan Greek  education,  for  which  the  sources  are  the  Decrees  of 
the  Athenian  Senate  and  the  Athenian  Assembly,  the  Panegyric  on 
St.  Basil  by  Gregory  Nazienzen,  and  the  Morals  of  Plutarch. 

Roman  education  is  treated  in  three  periods:  "Early  Roman 
Education  in  General,"  "The  Second  Period  of  Early  Roman 
Education,"  and  "The  Third  Period  or  Hellenized  Roman  Educa- 
tion." For  the  early  period  we  have  selecttions  from  the  laws  of 
the  Twelve  Tables  and  from  the  De  Oratore  of  Cicero.     For  the 


694  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

second  the  Ltves  of  Suetonius  furnishes  the  sources.  Two  chapters 
are  devoted  to  a  "Contrast  Between  the  Earlier  and  the  Later 
Periods  of  Roman  Education"  and  to  the  "Survival  of  Early  Roman 
Educational  Ideals  in  the  Later  Period."  Plautus  and  Tacitus  in 
the  first,  and  Cornelius  Nepos,  Suetonius,  Tacitus,  and  Marcus 
Aurelius  in  the  latter  instance,  are  the  sources.  The  sources  for 
the  third  period  of  Hellenized  Roman  education  are  the  Satires 
and  Epistles  of  Horace,  the  Epigrams  of  Martial,  the  Epistles  of 
Seneca,  the  Lives  of  the  Twelve  Caesars  by  Suetonius,  Musonius, 
the  Letters  of  Pliny  the  Younger,  and  the  Satires  of  Juvenal.  This 
period  concludes  the  volume  with  a  chapter  on  the  "The  Orator  as 
the  Ideal  of  Roman  Education"  (with  Cicero's  dialogue  On  Oratory 
as  the  source),  and  a  chapter  on  the  "Scientific  Exposition 
of  Roman  Education"  (with  selections  from  the  Institutes  of 
Quintilian). 

Of  the  other  work  the  author  gives  the  following  succinct 
account : 

Professedly  a  text-book,  this  volume,  while  not  pretending  to  be  an 
exhaustive  history  of  the  subject,  aims  to  give  more  than  a  superficial 
outline  containing  a  summary  of  trite  generalizations.  The  merits  which 
the  author  has  sought  to  incorporate  are  (i)  to  furnish  a  body  of  historical 
facts  sufficient  to  give  the  student  concrete  material  from  which  to  form 
generalizations;  (2)  to  suggest,  chiefly  by  classification  of  this  material, 
interpretations  such  as  will  not  consist  merely  in  unsupported  generaliza- 
tions; (3)  to  give,  to  some  degree,  a  flavor  of  the  original  sources  of 
information ;  (4)  to  make  evident  the  relation  between  educational  develop- 
ment and  other  aspects  of  the  history  of  civilization;  (5)  to  deal  with 
educational  tendencies  rather  than  with  men;  (6)  to  show  the  connection 
between  educational  theory  and  actual  school  work  in  its  historical  develop- 
ment;  (7)  to  suggest  relations  with  present  educational  work. 

The  book,  in  other  words,  aims  to  meet  the  needs  of  the  average 
student  of  the  history  of  education — needs  which  involve,  on  the 
one  hand,  a  widening  and  deepening  of  the  general  background  of 
knowledge  of  human  culture,  as  achieved  in  the  successive  efforts 
of  the  race  toward  self-instruction,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  a  more 
definite  conception  of  the  meaning,  nature,  process,  and  purpose  of 
education  which  will  "lift  him  above  the  narrow  prejudices,  the 
restricted  outlook,  the  foibles,  and  the  petty  trials  of  the  average 
schoolroom,  and  afford  him  the  fundamentals  of  an  everlasting 
faith  as  broad  as  human  nature  and  as  deep  as  the  life  of  the  race." 


REVIEWS  695 

Carefully  selected  bibliographies  and  lists  of  topics  for  further 
study  are  appended  to  each  chapter,  both  of  which  will  be  of  great 
help  to  student  and  teacher.  There  are  also  placed  at  the  beginning 
of  the  discussion  of  the  leading  periods  condensed  chronological 
tables  of  the  chief  political  events  and  personages,  literary  men  and 
scientists,  religious  events  and  personages,  educators,  educational 
writings,  and  leading  educational  events.  These  enable  the  student 
by  a  glance  to  gain  a  survey  of  the  whole  field,  and  to  correct 
errors  of  perspective  to  which  he  is  liable  in  a  study  of  this  sort. 

Very  suggestive  and  helpful,  in  the  reviewer's  opinion,  is  the 
treatment  of  education  as  adjustment,  and  an  interpretation  of  the 
history  of  educational  practice  and  theory  from  this  point  of  view. 
In  this  aspect  education  appears  as  a  progressive  bringing  to 
consciousness  by  man  of  his  own  ways  or  methods  of  doing  things, 
his  own  unconscious  and  instinctive  reactions  to  his  physical  and 
social  environment.  Education  is  the  most  advanced  phase  of 
evolutionary  process,  its  most  controlled  stage.  It  is  the  conscious 
self -adaptation  of  humanity  to  the  conditions  of  its  life  and  growth. 
"With  this  stage  of  evolution  the  institutional  aspect  of  environment 
is  most  important,  and  social  selection  of  greater  functional  signifi- 
cance than  natural."  Yet  even  this  conscious  and  social  selection 
has  been  for  the  most  part  a  stumbling  and  uncertain  guide.  That 
is,  "since  the  social  consciousness  rather  seeks  to  prevent  change, 
social  progress  has  resulted  for  the  most  part  through  the  conscious 
effort  of  the  individual  to  secure  for  himself  some'  advantage  which 
is  not  permitted  or,  at  least,  not  consciously  given  by  society." 
The  highest  form  of  social  selection  is  attained  when  society 
becomes  conscious  of  its  aim  in  terms  of  a  method,  and  grasps  the 
meaning  of  the  process  of  adjustment  and  readjustment  by  which 
the  individual  and  the  social  are  evolved  together.  "The  great 
positive  method  developed  by  modem  society  for  effecting  these 
purposes  is  public  education.  Education  thus  becomes  for  the  social 
world  what  natural  selection  is  for  the  sub-human  world — ^the  chief 
factor  in  the  process  of  evolution." 

Employing  this  conception.  Professor  Monroe  traces  educa- 
tional practice  and  educational  theory  through  its  successive  phases. 
Primitive  man  exhibits  education  as  non-progressive  adjustment, 
since  here  behavior  is  in  accordance  with  definite  and  rigfidly 
prescribed  customs  and  habits.  Oriental  peoples,  of  which  China 
is  taken  as  the  type,  illustrate  education  as  recapitulation.    Among 


696  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  Greeks  for  the  first  time  we  find  the  idea  of  liberal  education 
— education  as  conscious  progressive  adjustment.  In  the  Middle 
Ages  the  ideal  of  education  is  discipline — mysticism  and  monasti- 
cism  furnishing  the  type  of  discipline  on  the  spiritual  side, 
chivalry  on  the  social  side,  and  scholasticism  on  the  intellectual 
side.  In  the  humanistic  ideal  of  the  Renascence  we  have  a 
revival  of  the  idea  of  liberal  education,  which,  however,  in  turn, 
becomes  narrowed  by  its  too  restricted  adherence  to  the  literary 
content  of  the  curriculum.  The  Reformation  and  Counter- 
Reformation  illustrate  the  religious  conception  of  education.  Real- 
istic tendencies  follow — humanistic  realism,  social  realism  and 
sense  realism.  The  modern  disciplinary  conception  of  education 
is  considered  in  connection  with  Locke's  educational  writings.  The 
naturalistic  tendency  is  illustrated  in  Rousseau ;  the  psychological 
tendency,  in  Pestalozzi,  Herbart,  and  Froebel ;  the  scientific 
tendency,  in  Spencer  and  Huxley;  and  the  sociological  tendency, 
by  many  recent  writers.  The  present  period,  the  author  says,  is 
one  of  eclecticism ;  and  doubtless  in  a  sense  this  is  true.  But  every 
period  is  a  "fusion"  of  existing  or  earlier  tendencies,  and  an 
attempt  at  "harmonization"  of  conflicting  theories.  Is  there  not 
reason  to  think  that  this  is  as  progressive  and  constructive  a  period 
as  any  that  has  preceded  in  the  history  of  education? 

The  permanent  problem,  says  Professor  Monroe,  is  to 
transmit  to  each  succeeding  generation  the  elements  of  culture  and  of 
institutional  life  that  have  been  found  to  be  of  value  in  the  past,  and  that 
additional  increment  of  culture  which  the  existing  generation  has  .siwceeded 
in  working  out  for  itself;  to  do  this, -and -also  4o -give  to  eac"h  individual  the 
fullest  liberty  in  formulating  his  own  purposes  in  life  and  in  shaping  these 
to  his  own  activities.  The  problem  of  the  educator  is  to  make  the  selection 
of  this  material  that  is  essential  in  the  life  of  the  individual  and  essential 
to  the  perpetuitj'  and  progress  of  society,  to  construct  it  into  a  curriculum, 
to  cryanize  an  institution  to  carry  on  this  great  process,  and  to  formulate 
the  rules  and  principles  of  the  procedure  which  actually  accomplish  the 
result.  The  problem  of  the  school  is  to  take  the  material  selected  by  the 
educator,  to  incorporate  it  into  the  life  of  each  member  of  the  coming 
generation  so  as  to  fit  him  into  the  social  life  of  the  times,  to  enable  him  to 
contribute  to  it  and  to  better  it,  and  to  develop  in  him  that  highest  of  all 
personal  possessions  and  that  essential  of  a  life  satisfactory  to  his  fellows 
and  happy  in  itself,  which  we  tei*m  character. 

H.  Heath  Bawden. 

Vassar  College, 
Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y. 


REVIEWS  697 

The  Police  Power — Public  Policy  and  Constitutional  Rights.  By 
Ernst  Freund^  Professor  of  Jurisprudence  and  Public 
Law  in  the  University  of  Chicago.  Chicago:  Callaghan 
&  Co.,  1904.    Pp.  xcii-f  819. 

Until  the  appearance  of  Professor  Freund's  book,  the  discus- 
sion of  the  police  power  was  confined  to  two  distinct  classes  of 
treatises ;  on  the  one  hand,  the  legal  textbooks  intended  to  guide 
the  practicing  lawyer  in  the  conduct  of  litigation ;  on  the  other  hand, 
the  general  treatises  on  political  science.  The  legal  works  dealing 
with  this  subject  show  but  few  differences  in  method  of  treatment. 
With  the  increase  of  adjudicated  cases,  there  has  been  corre- 
sponding increases  in  the  bulk  of  these  volumes,  but  they  have  all 
failed  to  give  us  a  broad  treatment  of  the  subject. 

In  the  general  treatises  on  political  science  we  find  the  police 
power  occupying  a  position  of  increasing  importance.  Burgess, 
in  his  work  on  Political  Science  and  Comparative  Constitutional 
Law  makes  the  police  power  the  central  feature  of  his  discussion 
of  individual  liberty. 

Students  of  this  subject  have  realized  for  some  time  past  that 
the  most  fruitful  discussion  of  the  police  power  would  come  with 
the  combination  of  the  distinctly  legal  and  the  broader  political 
methods  of  treatment.  Dr.  Freund  has  accomplished  this  difficult 
task  with  a  degree  of  success  which  places  us  in  possession  of  a 
work  indispensable  alike  to  the  student  of  political  science  and 
to  the  practicing  lawyer. 

No  other  principle  in  constitutional  law  has  played  so  important 
a  part  as  the  police  power.  Through  it  the  courts  have  been  able 
to  adapt  our  federal  and  state  constitutions  to  the  changing 
economic  and  political  needs  of  the  country.  It  has  made  possible 
such  adjustment  without  the  necessity  of  constitutional  amend- 
ments. The  courts  have  furthermore  used  this  doctrine  to  protect 
the  people  against  the  shortsightedness  or  extravagance  of  their 
own  representative  assemblies.  Its  most  important  function,  how- 
ever, has  been  to  prevent  the  injurious  assertion  of  private  rights 
as  against  public  welfare.  Through  its  influence  the  courts  have 
been  able  to  counteract  to  a  certain  degree  the  strong  individualistic 
tendencies  of  our  American  communities.  In  fact,  the  history  of 
the  police  power  in  the  United  States  mirrors  with  a  considerable 
degree  of  accuracy  the  gradual  curbing  of  the  intense  individualism 


698  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

characteristic  of  our  American  communities.  Dr.  Freund's  method 
of  treatment  makes  this  tendency  clearly  evident. 

In  examining  any  treatise  on  the  police  power,  one  naturally 
turns  to  the  author's  discussion  of  the  quasi-public  industries  as 
a  test  of  the  author's  method  of  treatment.  In  chap.  17,  entitled 
"Business  Eft'ected  with  a  Public  Interest,"  Dr.  Freund  has  given 
us  an  admirable  treatment  of  the  subject.  It  is  to  be  hoped  in  some 
future  edition  of  the  work  Dr.  Freund  will  extend  his  discussion 
to  include  the  street  railways,  gas  and  electric-light,  and  water 
services. 

The  appearance  of  this  work  will  undoubtedly  contribute  much 
toward  giving  the  police  power  a  more  definite  place  in  the 
curriculum  of  our  American  universities.  With  this  work  in  hand, 
interest  in  the  police  power  need  no  longer  be  confined  to  our  law 
schools,  but  can  readily  find  place  among  the  general  courses  in 
political  science.  Students  of  law  and  politics  are  under  deep 
obligations  to  Dr.  Freund  for  having  placed  them  in  possession  of 
a  real  guide  in  the  study  of  this  important  subject. 

University  of  Pennsylvania. 


The  Negro:  The  Southerner's  Problem.  By  Thomas  Nelson 
Page.  New  York:  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  Pp.  xii 
+  316. 

This  book  is  dedicated  "  to  all  those  who  truly  wish  to  help  solve 
the  race  problem,"  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  commend  it  to  all  such. 
It  is  a  collection  of  essays,  some  of  which  have  been  previously  pub- 
lished, upon  the  relations  of  the  negroes  and  the  whites  in  the  South 
and  the  solution  of  present  difficulties.  Like  all  that  Mr,  Page  has 
written  on  the  negro  problem,  these  essays  are  characterized  by  a 
sanity  of  spirit  and  a  painstaking  thoroughness.  Though  Mr.  Page 
is  primarily  a  literary  man,  he  has  to  a  remarkable  degree  that  open- 
ness of  mind  and  impartiality  of  judgment  which  make  up  so  largely 
the  scientific  attitude,  and  which  go  so  far  in  the  scientific  treatment 
of  any  social  question.  However,  his  lack  of  scientific  training  leads 
him  to  make  occasional  blunders,  as  when  he  predicts  (p.  288)  that 
"  before  the  end  of  the  century  there  may  be  between  sixty  and  eighty 
millions  of  negroes  in  this  country." 

The  general  trend  and  spirit  of  the  book  may  perhaps  be  best 
shown  by  a  few  quotations : 

The  alleged  danger  of  the  educated  negro  becoming  a  greater  menace  to 
the  white  than  the  uneducated  is  a  bugaboo  which  will  not  stand  the  test  of 


REVIEWS  699 

light.  That  this  might  be  true  if  the  white  is  allowed  to  remain  uneducated, 
may  be  readily  admitted  (p.  301). 

There  are  only  two  ways  to  solve  the  negro  problem  in  the  South.  One 
is  to  remove  him ;  the  other  is  to  elevate  him.  The  former  is  apparently  out 
of  the  question.    The  only  method,  then,  is  to  improve  him  (p.  305). 

This  education  should  be  of  the  kind  best  adapted  to  the  great  body  of 

those  for  whom  it  is  provided The  true  principle  should  be  elementary 

education  for  all,  including  in  the  term  "  industrial  education,"  and  special, 
that  is,  higher  education  of  a  proper  kind  for  the  special  individuals  who  may 
give  proof  of  their  fitness  to  receive  and  profit  by  it  (p.  309). 

Finally,  and  as  the  only  sound  foundation  for  the.  whole  system  of 
education,  the  negro  must  be  taught  the  great  elementary  truths  of  morality 
and  duty.  Until  he  is  so  established  in  these  that  he  claims  to  be  on  this 
ground  the  equal  of  the  white,  he  can  never  be  his  equal  on  any  other  ground. 
When  he  is  the  equal  of  the  white,  it  will  make  itself  known.  Until  then,  he 
is  fighting,  not  the  white  race,  but  a  law  of  nature,  universal  and  inexorable  — 
that  races  rise  or  fall  according  to  their  character  (p.  310). 

If  Mr.  Page  truly  represents  the  mass  of  intelligent  southern 
whites  in  these  ideas,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  the  negro  problem  will 
soon  be  in  a  fair  way  to  solution. 

Charles  A.  Ellwood. 
University  op  Missouri. 


Democracy  in  the  South  before  the  Civil  War.  By  G,  W.  Dyer. 
Nashville:  Publishing  House,  M.  E.  Church,  South. 
Mr.  Dyer,  who  is  instructor  in  economics  and  sociology  in 
Vanderbilt  University,  has  prepared  a  syllabus  of  a  proposed  larger 
work  on  the  condition  of  democracy  in  the  South  before  the  Civil 
War.  It  is  a  strong  protest  against  the  theory  usually  advocated  by 
our  historians,  that  affairs  in  the  South  in  ante-bellum  times  were 
largely  controlled  by  an  oligarchy  of  slaveholders,  who  kept  down 
the  average  white  man,  who  made  labor  disdained,  who  kept  the 
South  agricultural,  while  the  great  mass  of  the  people  were  idle, 
illiterate,  and  lazy.  By  reference  to  census  reports  and  similar 
material  Mr,  Dyer  quite  effectively  disproves  statements  of  his- 
torians, which  he  quotes  as  texts  for  his  argument,  and  by  some 
comparisons  between  certain  of  the  southern  and  northern  states 
before  i860  he  draws  conclusions  by  no  means  unfavorable  to  the 
former.  The  syllabus  suggests  a  most  interesting  line  of  work, 
which,  if  carried  out  without  prejudice  or  passion,  of  which  unfor- 
tunately there  are  traces,  ought  to  yield  results  of  great  value  to  the 
student  of  American  social  and  economic  history. 

J.  W.  Shepardson. 


7CXD  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Condorcet:  Guide  de  la  Revolution  frangaise,  theoricien  du  droit 
constitutionnel  et  precurseur  de  la  science  sociale.  By 
Franck  Alengry.  Paris :  V.  Girard  et  E.  Briere.  Pp. 
xxiii  +  Spi.    Fr.  14. 

This  work  has  all  the  appearances  of  a  thesis  for  the  doctorate. 
It  may  be  said  that  it  constitutes  a  definitive  study  on  Condorcet,  from 
the  historical  and  sociological  points  of  view.  Unless  new  manu- 
scripts of  the  eminent  philosopher  are  discovered,  it  certainly  seems 
that  nothing  can  be  said  now  that  M.  Alengry  has  not  said  already. 

This  very  stout  volume  is  rather  dry  reading,  because  of  the 
great  number  of  quotations,  and  the  abundance  and  minuteness  of 
details.  What  we  consider  a  fault,  from  the  literary  point  of  view, 
is  an  advantage,  if  we  consider  the  book  from  the  student's  stand- 
point, as  being  a  work  to  consult  for  documents,  facts,  and  argu- 
ments. M.  Alengry  studies  Condorcet  from  the  political,  the  consti- 
tutional, and  the  sociological  points  of  view.  The  study  is  precise, 
minute,  and  based  upon  the  most  reliable  sources  —  the  unpublished 
papers  left  by  the  great  thinker.  The  author  has  read  all  that  was 
published  by  and  on  Condorcet,  his  book  thus  being  a  complete 
bibliography. 

Book  I  treats  the  political  side  of  Condorcet  before,  during,  and 
after  the  Revolution :  before  the  Revolution,  he  prepares  it ;  during 
it,  he  directs  and  organizes  it;  after  it,  his  memory  is  the  rallying 
sign  for  the  republican  opposition  and  the  parties  of  the  vanguard 
from  the  Consulate  to  this  day.  Book  II  reveals  a  thinker  no  less 
unknown  than  the  politician  —  a  true  theorist  of  constitutional  law 
whose  object,  method,  problems,  and  solutions  have  been  indicated 
with  a  power  and  an  authority  which,  according  to  M.  Aleng^,  have 
never  been  surpassed,  and  whose  influence  is  still  felt  among  us, 
either  in  doctrine  or  in  action.  Book  III  deals  with  Condorcet  as 
economist,  moralist,  and  sociologist.  Book  IV  investigates  the 
originality  of  Condorcet  and  his  historical  influence,  studying  him 
successively  as  a  man  of  action  —  republican,  observer,  utopist  — 
and  finally  showing  all  that  contemporaneous  democracy  owes  to 
him. 

Condorcet  is  a  book  which  the  philosopher,  the  sociologist,  and 
the  historian  must  read.  They  will  find  in  it  original  chapters,  as 
well  as  unedited  and  new  particulars  on  the  part  played  by  Thomas 
Paine  and  David  William  on  August  10,  on  the  election  of  Danton, 


REVIEWS  701 

on  the  feminism  of  Condorcet,  etc.  As  regards  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, one  may  consider  this  volume  as  an  unedited  chapter  of  its 
history.    It  is  studied  here  in  its  inner  and  philosophical  life. 

The  erudition  of  the  author  is  enormous.  He  is  thoroughly 
master  of  his  subject;  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  condensed  it 
enough.  His  work  is  too  full.  In  spite  of  its  analytical  table  of 
contents,  it  is  not  easy  to  consult.  There  ought  to  have  been  an 
alphabetical  table  as  well. 

The  very  title  of  his  book  shows  that  M.  Alengry  considers 
Condorcet  the  guide  of  the  French  Revolution,  almost  its  chief  and 
promoter.  He  attempts  to  prove  this  in  the  course  of  his  study. 
But  it  is  rather  an  exaggeration,  because  in  a  movement  like  the 
French  Revolution  there  is  no  proper  guide  or  chief.  There  are 
some  who  may  think  themselves  such,  but  in  reality  they  are  not. 
They  are  themselves  guided  by  the  collectivity,  the  events,  and  the 
circumstances  more  than  they  guide  them.  Apart  from  this,  we 
cannot  praise  M.  Alengry  enough  for  having  written  Condorcet. 
Such  a  work  is  sure  to  last,  and  for  many  years  to  come  to  be  profit- 
ably consulted  by  students. 

Seize  ans  en  Siberie.  By  Lfeo  Deutsch.  Paris :  Librairie  Uni- 
verselle,  1905.  Pp.  349.  Fr.  3.50. 
Leo  Deutsch,  a  Russian  revolutionary,  took  part  in  an  attempt 
against  a  traitor,  twenty  years  ago.  Being  arrested,  he  made  his 
escape  and  fled  abroad.  He  was  caught  in  Germany  and  delivered 
to  the  Russian  authorities.  He  was  again  incarcerated,  sent  from 
one  prison  to  another,  and  at  last  tried  and  condemned  to  exile  to 
Siberia.  There  he  was  shut  up  in  the  prison  of  Kara.  After  thir- 
teen long  years  of  imprisonment,  he  was  granted  semi-liberty,  still 
in  Siberia.  Finally  he  made  his  escape  via  Vladivostok  and  Japan, 
and  returned  to  Europe  by  way  of  Oceanica  and  North  America, 
after  having  passed  sixteen  years  in  Siberia.  It  is  about  his  life  in 
Siberia  that  the  author  tells  us  in  a  simple,  easy,  and  attractive  style, 
which  the  translator,  M.  Charles  Raymond,  has  well  rendered  into 
French.  The  story  is  as  interesting  as  a  novel.  The  volume  is  an 
excellent  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  movement  of  emancipa- 
tion of  Russian  thought.  The  facts  it  contains  may  be  advanta- 
geously consulted  by  the  criminologist  who  wishes  to  study  the  life 
and  customs  of  Russian  prisoners;  by  the  psychologist  who  is 
anxious  to  penetrate  the  soul  of  the  Russian  revolutionist,  of  those 
who  endure  martyrdom  for  their  ideal ;  and  by  the  sociologist  who 


702  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

wishes  to  know  Russian  functionaries  and  the  Russian  government. 
It  has  its  place  next  to  Memoirs  of  a  Revolutionist,  by  Kropotkin, 
and  La  Russie  souterraine,  by  Stepnyak,  etc.    It  completes  them. 

Souvenirs  de  Tunisie  et  d'Algerie.  By  G.  Saint  Paul.  With  a 
Preface  by  Th.  Ribot.  Paris:  Charles  Lavauzelle,  1904. 
Pp.  360. 

The  title  is  unpretentious.  It  hides  but  too  well  the  sociological 
and  psychological  interest  of  Dr.  Saint  Paul,  the  author  of  the  well- 
known  work,  Le  langage  interieur  et  les  paraphasies  (la  fonction 
endophasique).  Taken  as  a  whole,  the  Souvenirs  are  ethnological 
and  sociological  studies  in  the  interest  of  practical  acquaintance 
with  the  types  described.  The  author  is  well  read  and  has  a  philo- 
sophical mind,  and  his  work  abounds  in  subtle  and  suggestive 
remarks.  The  subjects  treated  are  various :  scenes  of  Tunisian  life ; 
impressions  and  notes  on  Bizerte,  Tunis,  and  Algiers ;  the  habits  of 
a  few  animals  of  North  Africa  (sloughi,  gazelle,  dromedary,  horse, 
donkey,  etc.)  ;  reflections  on  the  state  and  the  future  of  the  popula- 
tions of  Algeria  and  Tunis ;  on  the  customs  and  the  character  of  the 
natives;  colonists  and  colonization  in  Tunisia.  In  spite  of  this 
diversity,  the  author,  who  is  a  fine  observer  and  who  applies  a  scien- 
tific method,  has  been  able  to  study  and  explain  his  subjects  with 
great  skill.  It  is  a  book  that  the  ethnologist,  the  psychologist,  and 
the  economist  may  read  with  profit. 

Les  retraites  des  travailleurs.  By  Paul  Imbert.  Paris :  Perrin, 
1905.    Pp.  327.    Fr.  3.50. 

This  volume,  written  by  an  engineer  of  the  government  factories, 
is  preceded  by  a  short  preface  by  M.  Paul  Deschanel,  a  deputy.  The 
author  is  already  known  to  those  interested  in  social  questions. 
Indeed,  he  has  published  a  book  of  real  value.  Rapport  entre  patrons 
et  ouvriers  dans  la  grande  industrie.  The  present  work  is  well 
fortified  with  facts,  and  abundantly  furnished  with  statistics  and 
figures.  The  author's  examination  of  the  question  from  the  his- 
torical point  of  view,  both  in  France  and  abroad,  constitutes  an 
excellent  part  of  the  book,  and  is  quite  complete.  The  keen  critical 
sense  of  the  author  may  be  seen  in  the  remarks  he  makes  on  the 
different  systems  employed  in  Belgium,  in  Italy,  and  in  Germany. 
He  suggests  a  system  that  may  be  open  to  criticism,  but  is  perhaps 


REVIEWS  703 

preferable  to  that  proposed  in  the  French  Parliament.  This  is  a 
practical  book,  dealing  with  one  of  the  most  important  questions  of 
the  day.  It  is  worth  consulting  as  a  contribution  to  the  problem  of 
the  relations  between  the  proletarians  and  the  capitalists. 

V evolution  religietise  et  les  legendes  du  christianisme.  By  G.  L. 
DuPRAT.  Paris,  1904.  Pp.  76. 
The  author  has  only  drawn  here  the  outline  of  a  more  complete 
work.  He  argues  that  every  religion  is  a  natural  fact  subject  to  the 
laws  of  natural  evolution.  He  contests  Spencer's  conception  that 
religions  are  derived  forms  of  the  exercise  of  political  power.  But 
his  arguments  are  not  conclusive.  The  first  part  of  M.  Duprat's 
work  is  not  clear.  One  must  read  it  several  times  to  catch  the  mean- 
ing of  the  author,  and  even  then  one  is  not  quite  sure  to  understand 
exactly  his  thought.  The  second  part,  regarding  the  legends  of 
Christianity,  is  much  clearer.  After  having  rapidly  studied  the 
religious  feeling  in  Christianity,  he  examines  the  account  of  Jesus 
and  Mary,  and  lastly  primitive  Christiamity.  In  this  last  chapter  he 
treats  carefully  the  question  of  the  persecutions  under  Nero,  and 
concludes  that  tradition  is  inaccurate;  the  citations  of  Tacitus,  for 
example,  are  mere  interpolations.  In  short,  this  little  volume  is  an 
interesting  contribution  to  religious  sociology. 

A.  AND  H.  Hamon. 


The  American  Family:  A  Sociological  Problem.  By  Frank 
N.  Hagar.  New^  York:  The  University  Publishing  So- 
ciety, 1905.  Pp.  196. 
The  author  brings  to  his  task  the  special  training  of  a  lawyer 
and  considerable  reading  in  the  history  of  institutions.  He  dis- 
cusses sex,  theories  of  primitive  and  historical  forms  of  domestic 
life,  the  decadence  of  the  Yankees,  occupations  of  women,  mat- 
rimonial law,  divorce,  free  love,  education,  industrial  influences, 
democracy.  It  is  a  serious  work  with  a  conservative  purpose. 
Perhaps  the  most  useful  and  instructive  parts  are  the  discussions  of 
the  decadence  in  the  Yankee  stock,  the  danger  of  foreign  inunda- 
tion, and  the  law  of  property  affecting  husband  and  wife.  Even 
here  we  must  turn  to  Howard  for  adequate  information  about  the 
law.  The  dithyrambic  passages  in  praise  of  romantic  love,  which 
the  author  calls  "intervals  of  literary  rests  and  elucidations  that 
may  appeal  to  the  artistic  sense,"  are  precisely  the  hardest  passages 


704  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OP  SOCIOLOGY 

for  an  academic  audience  to  understand,  though  they  may  be 
pleasing  in  certain  hours  when  one  yearns  to  hear  about  things 
ineffable.  But  the  student  wishes  the  solid  facts  of  the  discussion 
might  be  bound  by  themselves  without  the  interruption  of  the  "lit- 
erary rests"  which  really  fatigue.  The  definition  of  "love"  given  by 
Felix  Adler  in  his  remarkable  little  volume  on  Marriage  and 
Divorce  is  more  satisfactory;  although  Mr.  Hagar's  earnest  treat- 
ment commands  respect.  We  should  like  to  have  him  develop 
more  fully  his  argument  in  chaps.  13,  14,  and  21,  where  court  prac- 
tice would  yield  valuable  illustrations.  The  volume  illustrates  the 
fact  that  men  with  legal  training  can  render  a  valuable  service  to 
sociology  by  calling  attention  to  the  obstacles  to  progress  which  the 
law  itself  presents  when  it  is  no  longer  fitted  to  contemporary  con- 
ditions. 

C.  R.  Henderson. 


Benevolent  Institutions,  IQ04:  Special  Report  of  Bureau  of  the 
Census,  Department  of  Commerce  and  Labor.  Washington : 
Government  Printing  Office. 

This  report  treats  of  the  operation  of  benevolent  institutions, 
including  the  movement  of  institutional  population  during  1904 
and  financial  statistics  for  1903.  The  investigation  was  directed  by 
Mr.  John  Koven,  expert  special  agent,  with  valuable  labor  in 
collecting  and  arranging  materials  by  Mr.  W.  A.  King  and  Mr.  J. 
H.  Garber.  This  statement  guarantees  the  highest  possible  accuracy 
in  method  of  inquiry  and  arrangement  of  results. 

The  data  were  collected  from  the  institutions  themselves,  and  no 
effort  was  made  to  take  personal  schedules  of  inmates.  Five  classes 
of  institutions  were  presented:  (i)  orphanages,  children's  homes, 
and  nurseries;  (2)  hospitals  and  dispensaries;  (3)  permanent 
homes  for  adults,  or  adults  and  children ;  (4)  temporary  homes  for 
adults  and  children;  (5)  schools  and  homes  for  the  deaf  and  blind. 
Almshouses,  public  and  private  hospitals  for  the  insane,  and  schools 
for  the  feeble-minded  are  not  included,  but  will  be  discussed  in 
special  reports.  No  attempt  was  made  to  collect  statistics  of  out- 
door relief. 

The  quality  of  this  work  is  so  excellent  that  all  students  and 
administrators  are  uniting  to  urge  Congress  to  extend  the  scope 


'REVIEWS  705 

of  the  inquiry  and  to  secure  biennial  investigations,  so  that  the 
various  movements  anl  tendencies  may  be  closely  watched  and 
studied.  Bills  are  now  before  Congress  with  this  purpose  in  view, 
and  they  deserve  the  interest  of  all  citizens  and  legislators. 

C.  R.  H. 

The  Charity  Organization  Society  of  the  City  of  New  York. 
Twenty-third  Annual  Report,  to  September  30,  1905. 
This  report  deserves  particular  attention  and  study,  for  it  reveals 
the  structure  and  activities  of  one  of  the  best  equipped  and  adminis- 
tered philanthropic  agencies  in  the  civilized  world.  In  addition 
to  the  accounts  of  the  ordinary  life  of  a  charity  organization  society, 
we  discover  the  evidences  of  an  immense  creative  and  inventive 
enterprise  which  brings  philanthropy  into  touch  with  all  the  scien- 
tific and  reformatory  efforts  of  the  age;  as,  "A  Study  of  Case 
Records,"  by  Miss  Brandt;  "Purchase  and  Management  of  Food 
by  the  Poor ;"  "Philanthropic  Education ;"  "Prevention  of  Tubercu- 
losis;" "Tenement-House  Reform." 

One  should  mention  in  this  connection  the  report  from  the 
Associated  Charities  of  Boston  for  1905,  which  is  always  rich  in 
suggestions  for  friendly  visitors,  and  the  Buffalo  Reports  which 
describe  the  union  of  churches  in  district  work  for  poor  families. 
In  general,  the  charity  organization  movement  is  characterized  by 
fertility  of  resource  and  inventiveness. 

C.  R.H. 

L'OfUce  du  Travail  de  1895  ^  ^9^5-  Ministere  de  1  'Industrie  et 
du  Travail,  Royaume  de  Belgique.  Bruxelles,  1905. 
This  admirable  volume,  edited  by  the  director  general  of  the 
Department  of  Labor  of  Belgium,  M.  Jean  Dubois,  was  prepared 
for  the  Liege  Exposition  of  1905.  It  celebrates  the  tenth  anniver- 
sary of  the  establishment  of  the  department.  The  first  section  is 
devoted  to  the  analysis  of  the  organization  of  the  office.  The  larger 
part  of  the  discussion  is  given  to  the  work  of  the  office  and  its  re- 
sults ;  statistics  of  labor ;  agencies  of  conciliation ;  factory  inspection ; 
insurance  against  accidents ;  agencies  of  thrift ;  trade  unions ;  laws 
regulative  of  industry.  The  third  section  describes  the  supreme 
council  of  labor,  the  commission  on  fraternal  societies,  and  the  com- 
mission on  accidents.  The  volume  contains  statistical  diagrams 
and  photographic  illustrations  of  mechanical  devices. 

C.  R.  H. 


706  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Generalbericht  uber  die  Tdtigkeit  des  deutschen  Vereins  fur 
ArmenpUege  uiid  W ohltatigkeit ,  1 880-1 905.  Von  Emil 
MiJNSTERBERG.     Leipzig:    Duncker  &  Humblot,  1905. 

This  important  summary  of  German  relief,  by  the  director  of 
the  Berlin  city  system  and  secretary  of  the  German  Conference 
of  Charities,  is  worth  special  notice.  The  most  significant  discus- 
sions of  a  quarter  of  a  century  are  here  analyzed  and  their  main 
principles  interpreted.  The  first  part  gives  a  sketch  of  the  rise  and 
activity  of  the  union  of  relief  administrators ;  the  second  contains  a 
chronological  list  of  the  papers  and  of  their  authors ;  the  third  is  a 
systematic  survey  of  the  contents  of  the  reports  and  discussions, 
relating  to  relief  and  welfare  work.  Dr.  Miinsterberg  remarks  that 
recent  discussions  tend  to  lay  more  stress  on  preventive  measures, 
as  care  of  children  and  of  the  sick.  The  workingmen's  insurance 
laws  have  modified  relief  methods  at  many  points.  The  book  is 
more  than  a  report  of  proceedings ;  it  is  a  real  contribution  to  the 
scientific  treatment  of  the  whole  subject  of  charity. 

C.  R.  H. 


The  Saloon  Problem  and  Social  Reform.    By  John  Marshall 
Barker.    Boston :  The  Everett  Press,  1905. 

The  author's  argument  is  in  the  form  of  a  direct  plea  for  local- 
option  legislation.  He  would  evidently  have  absolute  prohibition, 
if  such  a  law  could  be  enforced.  For  purposes  of  persuasion  the 
arrangement  of  the  discussion  is  effective,  but  the  absence  of 
references  makes  it  impossible  for  the  critical  reader  to  verify 
many  very  important  statements. 

C.  R.  H. 


Family  Monographs.    By  Esa  G.  Herzfeld.    New  York :    The 
James  Kempter  Printing  Co.,  1905.     Pp.  150. 

This  is  an  interesting  study  of  twenty-four  families  living  in 
the  middle  West  Side  of  New  York  City.  The  economic  facts  are 
given,  but  in  subordination  to  the  manifestations  of  beliefs,  ideals, 
interests,  amusements,  superstitions.  Fragmentary  as  the  study 
is,  it  is  an  authentic  document  by  a  shrewd  observer  and  interpreter 
of  social  motives. 

C.  R.  H. 


REVIEWS  707 

Efficiency  and  Relief:  A  Programme  of  Social  Work.  By 
Edward  T.  Devine,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  Schiflf  Professor  of 
Social  Economy  in  Columbia  University.  New  York :  The 
Columbia  University  Press,  1906. 

Dr.  Devine  defines  the  field  of  the  new  department  of  study  by 
saying:      "The    social    economist    is    the    modem    organizer    of 

knowledge  for  the  practical  good  of  man Social  work,  social 

legislation,  and  social  thought  are  the  three  main  branches  of  an 
adequately  equipped  school  of  social  economy."  In  this  inaugural 
address  we  see  the  outlines  of  a  growing  system  of  principles 
which  are  adapted  to  control  the  most  efficient  social  conduct. 
From  the  fruitful  labors  of  the  author  in  the  past  we  may  con- 
fidently expect  still  more  important  contributions  to  this  field ; 
whether  it  be  called  "social  economy,"  or  "social  technology"  or 
"practical  sociology"  is  of  minor  consequence. 

C.  R.  H. 


Marriage  and  Divorce.  By  James  Bryce,  D.C.L.  Oxford 
University  Press,  New  York  and  London.  Pp.  80. 
This  able  essay  is  already  well  known  as  a  part  of  the  work 
Studies  in  History  and  Jurisprudence  ( 1901 ) ,  and  the  separate  pub- 
lication should  give  it  a  wide  reading  among  those  who  are  giving 
special  attention  to  problems  of  the  family. 

C.R.H. 


RECENT  LITERATURE 


BOOKS 


Adams,  T.  S.,  and  Sumner,  Helen  L. 
Labor  problems :  a  textbook.  New 
York:  Macmillan.     $i.6o   net. 

Alden,  Percy.  The  tinemployed:  a  na- 
tional question.  London:  King. 
IS.    6d. 

AmitaT,  L.  K.  La  sociologie  selon  la 
legislation  juive  applique  a  I'epoque 
moderne :  conciliation  des  antitheses 
sociales.      Paris :      Fischbacher. 

Bertrand,  L.  Histioire  de  la  demo- 
cratic et  du  socialisme  en  Belgique 
depuis  1830.  Brussels.  Livres 
lis.     Ff-  o.io  each. 

Bibliographie  der  Sozialwissenschaften. 
— Bibliographie  des  sciences  so- 
ciales. —  Bibliography  of  social 
science.  1390  pp.  Dresden:  Bohmert. 
M.     10. 

Brugi,  R.  I  problemi  della  degenera- 
zione.     Bologna.     Pp.  430.     L.  12.50. 

Cameron,  Chas.  A.  How  the  poor  live. 
Dublin :      Falconer. 

Carpenter,  Edward.  Towards  democ- 
racy. New  ed.  London:  Sonnen- 
schein.     3s.  6d. 

Carver,  Thos.  N.  Sociology  and  social 
progress.     New  York :      Ginn  &  Co. 

Cathrein,  V.  Het  socialisme.  Leiden 
Pp..    161. 

Couturiaux,  C.  Les  oeuvres  sociales. 
Namur:     Delvaux.     Fr.  2.50. 

Commons,  John  R.  The  distribution 
of  wealth.  New  York:  Macmillan. 
$1.25    net. 

Debierre,  C.  Le  capital  et  le  travail 
devant  revolution  economique ;  les 
maladies  du  corps  social,  leurs  re- 
m^es ;  individualisme ;  collec- 
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NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS 


Sociology  as  Culture.  —  The  conspicuous  trend  of  elections  in  this  and 
other  universities  toward  social  studies  —  whether  these  be  called  history, 
philosophy,  economics,  sociology,  or  what  not  —  suggests  interesting  speculations 
as  to  what  may  be  the  meaning  of  it,  as  to  how  this  trend  may  be  related  to  the 
general  state  of  thought.  Only  a  small  part  of  these  elections  are  made  for 
technical  reasons ;  they  do  not,  on  the  whole,  express  the  tendency  to  specializa- 
tion with  a  view  to  a  career.  They  express,  beyond  doubt,  a  search  for  something 
in  the  nature  of  culture :  students  look  to  these  studies  for  breadth,  for  a  richer 
and  more  comprehending  life. 

Somebody  has  said  that  culture  is  the  rise  of  the  individual  into  the  life  of 
the  race ;  and,  if  this  is  true,  a  social  character  must  always  have  belonged  to 
studies  that  yielded  real  culture.  Why  was  Greek  the  word  of  culture  from  the 
early  part  of  the  fourteenth  century  to  the  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth?  Evi- 
dently because  it  was  the  ark  in  which  was  preserved  so  much  of  the  higher  life 
of  the  race ;  in  mastering  it  a  man  passed  from  the  narrow  confines  of  mediaeval 
thought  into  something  glad,  free,  and  open ;  it  was  like  being  let  out  of  prison. 
Perhaps  the  classics  still  have  more  of  this  function  to  perform  than  we  realize. 
It  would  be  nonsense  to  assert  that  we  have  assimilated  what  is  best  in  ancient 
culture,  and  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  decline  we  witness  is  in  some  degree 
transient.  But,  however  this  may  be,  it  is  clear  that  the  classics  flourished  because 
they  gave  the  individual  a  fuller  membership  in  the  life  of  mankind,  and  that 
social  studies  are  now  in  vogue  because  they  are  believed  to  serve  the  same  end. 

The  fact  that  the  study  of  society  may  be  culture  is  somewhat  obscured  per- 
haps by  a  certain  technical  character  that  the  word  "  culture "  has  taken  on  in 
popular  usage.  Like  all  words  that  relate  to  the  higher  life,  it  tends  to  become 
incrusted  with  special  associations  that  are  not  at  all  of  its  essence.  Just  as 
religion,  to  many  people,  means  going  to  church  and  joining  in  the  rites  and 
formulae  of  certain  traditional  societies,  so  culture  is  bound  up  in  a  way  almost 
as  mechanical  with  a  study,  too  often  formal  and  uncomprehending,  of  languages 
and  the  fine  arts.  Because  of  the  prevalence  of  this  idea,  and  the  shrewd  percep- 
tion of  plain  people  that  such  acquirements  often  have  little  meaning  for  real  life, 
"  culture  "  is  regarded  with  some  suspicion  as  an  intellectual  or  aesthetic  exercise 
having  no  necessary  connection  with  generous  personal  development. 

This  suggests  a  consideration  that  goes  far  to  explain  the  decline  of  many  of 
the  older  instruments  of  culture  and  the  rise  of  newer  humanities ;  namely,  that 
culture  in  our  day  must  be  democratic,  in  the  sense  that  the  higher  life  which  it 
embodies  must  not  be  the  life  of  a  privileged  upper  class  shutting  itself  off  from 
the  common  lot  to  cherish  a  private  enjoyment,  but  something  which  makes  for 
unity  of  spirit,  excluding  no  one  who  has  intrinsic  fitness  to  receive  it.  It  is 
partly  because  the  art  and  literature  of  the  schools  are  in  a  measure  bound  up  with 
outworn  ideals  of  society  that  young  people  find  them  somewhat  unreal  and 
unsatisfying,  not  expressive  of  the  deeper  facts  of  life  as  they  feel  them.  Litera- 
ture and  fine  art  must  always  have  a  large  part  in  culture,  but  is  it  not  true  that 
new  types  of  them  must  arise  before  they  can  regain  the  commanding  place  which, 
it  would  seem,  properly  belongs  to  them  ?  We  have  some  voices  of  men  crying  in 
the  wilderness  —  Walt  Whitman,  Tolstoi,  Wagner,  and  others  —  prophesying 
something  of  this  sort,  but  not  yet  the  adequate  art  and  literature,  still  less  the 
incorporation  of  these  into  education. 

In  the  meantime  an  increasing  number  turn  to  studies  which,  however 
deficient  in  form  and  hilarity,  do  really  aim  to  explore  human  life ;  and  in  order 
not  to  speak  of  things  which  I  know  only  at  secondhand,  I  will  leave  others  to 
expound  the  culture  values  of  history,  social  philosophy,  ethics,  economics,  and  the 
rest,  and  point  out  what,  from  this  point  of  view,  the  student  seems  to  be  looking 
for  in  sociology. 

712 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  713 

He  seeks,  for  one  thing,  to  get  a  better  notion  of  the  social  order  as  a  living 
whole,  and  of  the  relation  of  particular  functions  to  this  whole.  He  finds  the  main 
interest  of  popular  thought  to  be  social  discussion  of  a  somewhat  confused  sort. 
All  kinds  of  theories  and  claims  are  vehemently  urged,  and  one  would  wish  to  see 
at  least  the  outline,  if  possible,  of  a  rational  adjustment  of  these  conflicting  ideas. 
To  give  this  in  the  largest  way  is  perhaps  the  function  of  philosophy,  but  the 
student  wishes  to  define  and  enrich  his  philosophy  by  a  somewhat  detailed  study 
of  the  actual  working  of  human  life. 

He  wishes  in  particular  to  make  out  his  own  relation  to  the  system,  to  find 
out  what  the  energy  and  aspiration  he  feels  within  him  may  mean  in  terms  of  the 
general  life,  to  get  a  material  out  of  which  he  may  form  ideals  of  his  own  career. 
I  will  give  for  what  it  may  be  worth  the  statement  sometimes  made  by  students 
that  this  is  the  first  subject  that  they  have  taken  up  that  seems  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  individual. 

Again  he  wishes  very  earnestly  to  find  out  what  is  right  with  reference  to 
the  less  fortunate  members  of  society,  and  how  he  can  help  to  make  this  right 
prevail.  A  variety  of  causes  are  working  together  to  reanimate  the  sentiment  of 
human  brotherhood  and  to  give  it  hands  and  feet  in  the  conduct  of  life.  This 
movement  the  student  feels,  and  he  desires  to  be  actively  and  intelligently  in  it. 

Such  aims  as  these  are  aims  of  culture ;  they  look  not  to  a  private  or  tech- 
nical advantage,  but  to  a  larger  membership  in  the  life  of  the  race ;  they  are 
distinctly  humanities,  and  it  is  as  such  that  they  appeal  to  the  youth  of  our 
time.  The  decline  of  culture  is  like  the  decline  of  religion ;  that  is  to  say,  it 
does  not  exist,  it  only  appears  to  exist  to  those  whose  eyes  are  so  fixed  upon  old 
forms  that  they  do  not  see  that  the  spirit  which  is  disappearing  from  these  has 
made  for  itself  new  ones. 

I  wish  to  add  a  word  as  to  how  sociology  may  most  eflFectively  be  made  a 
means  of  culture.  One  of  the  great  drawbacks  to  the  traditional  culture  studies 
is  the  difficulty  of  keeping  up  an  interest  when  one  passes  from  the  atmosphere  of 
an  institution  of  learning  into  a  world  which  has  lost  almost  all  conscious  rela- 
tion to  them.  Greek,  for  instance,  would  be  a  great  thing  if  we  did  anything  with 
it,  but  it  is  notorious  that  scarcely  anyone  does,  and  the  reason  is  largely  in  the 
fact  that  there  is  no  emulation  or  sympathy  outside  of  the  colleges  to  give  it  that 
social  reality  without  which  a  thing  can  hardly  seem  real  to  the  individual. 

The  truth  is  that  a  culture  study  should  be  one  that  is  bound  up  on  one  side 
with  the  actual  interests  of  men,  and,  on  the  other,  leads  those  interests  out  to  a 
universal  scope.  Sociology,  at  the  present  time,  is  such  a  study.  It  is  rooted  in 
real  interests,  social,  political,  industrial,  philanthropic,  which  no  system  of  cul- 
ture can  ignore  without  becoming  futile,  and  yet  it  aims  to  make  these  things  the 
doorway  to  the  most  spacious  apartments  of  the  human  mind. 

Understanding,  then,  that  culture  consists  in  finding  the  ideal  in  the  practical, 
and  vice  versa,  let  the  student,  while  at  the  university,  extend  to  the  utmost  his 
general  view  of  human  affairs  in  their  historical,  psychological,  economic,  and 
other  aspects ;  let  him  try  to  get  a  rational  view  of  things  as  a  whole ;  but  let 
him  not  fail  at  the  same  time  to  take  up  the  investigation  of  some  particular 
practical  question  which  he  is  likely  to  have  an  opportunity  to  pursue  after  he 
leaves.  It  is  precisely  because  it  affords  so  many  such  questions  of  living  interest, 
because  it  offers,  in  the  world  at  large,  such  constant  incitement  to  find  the  ideal 
in  the  practical,  that  sociology  is  culture.  Public  opinion,  leadership,  social 
classes,  competition,  combination,  the  great  institutions  of  religion,  government, 
and  the  family,  poverty,  crime,  race  problems,  the  mixture  of  nationalities  by 
migration,  overcrowding,  slums,  saloons,  popular  amusements,  the  exploitation  of 
women  and  children  in  industry  —  facts  of  this  sort,  and  the  questions  growing 
out  of  them,  are  to  be  found  in  every  city,  village,  and  rural  township  in  the 
country.  They  are  full  of  human  interest  and  open,  to  one  who  approaches  them 
with  preparation  and  in  a  right  spirit,  the  richest  opportunities  to  take  part  in  the 
higher  life  of  the  race. 

The  proof  that  this  is  real  culture  is  to  know  people  who,  protected  from 
narrowness  and  fanaticism  by  a  broad  training,  are  giving  a  part  of  their  energy 
to   disinterested   social   activity.     That  they  commonly   get  breadth   of  view,   a 


714  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

quickened  sympathy  and  a  great  deal  of  the  joy  of  life  out  of  it  is  pleasantly 
evident.  If  one  wants  a  kind  of  culture  that  does  not  require  money ;  that  will 
foster  in  him  the  sense  of  union  with  humanity ;  that  will  keep  him  young  by 
identification  with  something  more  enduring  than  his  narrower  self ;  that  edu- 
cates thought,  feeling,  and  action  ;  that  will  give  meaning  and  outlook  to  the  com- 
monest relations,  he  may  hope  to  find  it  by  occupying  himself,  both  reflectively 
and  practically,  with  some  phase  of  the  life  of  the  community  in  which  he  lives.— 
Professor  C.  H.  Cooley,  in  The  Inlander,  Michigan  University,  March,  1905. 

Women  and  Crime  in  Japan.  —  The  Chuokoron  publishes  an  article  on 
"  Women  and  Crime  in  Japan,"  by  Mr.  T.  Yokoyama,  the  chief  points  of  which 
we  give  below.  The  attention  of  sociologists  has  for  some  time  past  been  drawn 
to  this  subject,  and  novelists  have  ever  been  wont  to  make  women's  crimes  a 
leading  feature  in  their  stories. 

1.  The  number  of  female  criminals. —  The  women  guilty  of  grave  offenses 
number  far  less  than  the  men.  The  figures  given  by  recent  official  statistics  are 
men,  2,834;  women,  341.  Among  these  the  men  convicted  of  committing  murder 
numbered  438,  and  the  women  192.  Thus  we  see  that  the  proportion  of  murders 
to  the  total  number  of  grave  offenses  committed  by  women  is  56  per  cent. ; 
whereas  in  the  case  of  men  it  is  only  15  per  cent.  As  to  minor  crimes  there  is  not 
much  difference  between  men  and  women. 

2.  Adultery. —  Taking  the  average  of  the  last  ten  years,  the  women  con- 
victed of  adultery  have  amounted  to  323  per  year,  against  precisely  the  same 
number  of  men.  The  following  figures  give  the  number  of  convictions  for  each 
year  between  1892  and  1901  :  1892,  250  men  and  246  women;  1893,  312  men 
and  310  women;  1894,  266  men  and  274  women;  1895,  295  men  and  301  women; 
1896,  328  men  and  332  women;  1897,  349  men  and  347  women;  1898,  329  men 
and  334  women ;  1899,  273  men  and  272  women  ;  1900,  239  men  and  238  women ; 
1901,  232  men  and  235  women.  Taking  the  total  average,  the  number  of  men  is 
287,  against  289  women. 

3.  Education  and  crime. —  Though  some  writers  on  crime  have  asserted  that 
it  is  largely  the  result  of  want  of  education,  Japanese  statistics  do  not  bear  out 
this  idea  in  the  case  of  men,  but  in  that  of  women  they  support  it.  Taking  the 
three  years  from  1899  to  1901,  the  partially  educated  men  convicted  of  adultery 
were  about  equal  to  the  non-educated ;  but  among  the  women  there  were  80 
uneducated  to  12  partly  educated. 

4.  Adultery  and  poverty. —  Adultery  is  comparatively  rare  among  the  poorest 
classes ;  that  is,  the  number  of  convictions  is  comparatively  small  among  these 
classes. 

5.  Crimes  that  originate  with  adultery. —  In  this  country  the  practice  of 
killing  the  wife  who  is  caught  committing  adultery  together  with  her  paramour  is 
very  common,  having  come  down  from  Tokugawa  days,  when  the  law  sanctioned  a 
husband's  taking  the  law  into  his  own  hands  in  emergencies  of  this  kind.  But  the 
killing  of  the  husband  either  by  the  wife  or  by  her  lover  in  order  to  get  him  out 
of  the  way  is  almost  equally  common.  The  crimes  which  have  been  caused  by 
adultery  during  the  past  ten  years  are  recorded  as  follows :  setting  fire  to  the 
houses  of  their  wives'  paramours  by  husbands,  17  cases;  setting  fire  to  wives' 
houses  by  their  paramours,  14  cases ;  setting  fire  to  houses  belonging  to  husbands 
by  their  wives'  paramours,  5  cases ;  setting  fire  to  the  houses  of  paramours  by 
wives,  6  cases ;  setting  fire  to  husbands'  houses  by  unfaithful  wives,  4  cases ; 
unfaithful  wives  killed  by  their  husbands,  41  ;  paramours  and  wives  killed 
together  by  hijsbands,  18  cases;  husbands  killed  by  adulterous  wives,  38  cases; 
adulteresses  killed  by  their  lovers,  23  ;  husbands  killed  by  wives  and  their  para- 
mours in  collusion,  7  ;  paramours  killed  by  adulterous  wives,  3  ;  unfaithful  wives 
and  their  lovers  wounded  by  wronged  husbands,  73.  Mr.  Yokoyama  observes  that, 
considering  the  population  of  Japan,  the  cases  of  proved  adultery  are  comparatively 
few  ;  but  he  goes  on  to  say  that  there  are  a  large  number  of  instances  in  which 
the  crime  though  committed  cannot  be  brought  home  to  the  persons  concerned. — 
Japan  Mail. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  715 

Industrial  Alcoholism. —  There  is  a  traditional  belief,  more  or  less  prevalent, 
to  the  effect  that  the  primary  and  most  serious  factor  in  intemperance  is  con- 
vivial excess.  It  is  often  assumed  that  the  amount  of  drunkenness,  or  even  the 
number  of  arrests  for  drunkenness,  in  a  community  furnishes  a  reliable  guide  to 
the  extent  to  which  alcoholism  prevails.  That  this  is  far  indeed  from  the  truth 
is  easily  apparent  from  an  inspection  of  the  statistics  of  drunkenness,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  of  the  characteristic  effects  of  alcoholism,  such  as  cirrhosis  of  the  liver 
and  attempts  to  commit  suicide,  on  the  other. 

Arranging  the  English  counties,  with  North  and  South  Wales,  in  the  order 
of  their  addiction  to  drunkenness,  we  find  that  the  list  is  headed  by  the  chief 
mining  districts — Durham,  Northumberland,  and  South  Wales.  But  if  we  look 
at  the  place  of  these  districts  in  the  list  of  alcoholism,  the  result  is  entirely 
different.  Durham  —  a  long  way  the  most  drunken  county  in  England  —  has  an 
alcoholic  death-rate  which  ranks  it  with  the  sober  agricultural  districts ;  while 
South  Wales,  third  highest  in  the  list  of  drunkenness,  is  the  lowest  but  three  in 
the  list  of  alcoholism. 

Drunkenness  reaches  its  maximum  in  the  mining  districts,  but  in  these  same 
districts  the  frequency  of  the  specially  alcoholic  offenses  is  relatively  low.  The 
reason  for  this  is,  of  course,  simply  that  in  the  mining  districts  we  have  to  do 
with  practically  pure  convivial  excess ;  the  conditions  of  the  coal-miner's  work 
to  a  large  extent  exclude  the  possibility  of  his  drinking  during  the  hours  of  work 
—  that  is,  of  industrial  drinking ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  his  relative  pros- 
perity and  low  standard  of  culture  are  extremely  favorable  to  convivial  indulgence. 
In  the  manufacturing  towns,  on  the  contrary,  and  still  more  in  the  seaports,  the 
conditions  of  labor,  especially  among  the  unskilled  workers,  are  of  a  kind  greatly 
to  further  industrial  drinking. 

The  conclusion,  therefore,  to  be  drawn  from  the  statistical  evidence  is  clearly 
that  the  connection  of  chronic  alcoholism  is  with  industrial  drinking  and  not 
with  convivial  drunkenness,  and  that  accordingly  the  latter  phenomenon,  however 
regrettable  as  a  proof  of  a  low  standard  of  manners,  is  not  of  very  great  account 
in  the  causation  of  the  worst  evils  of  intemperance,  at  all  events  under  the 
prevailing  conditions  in  this  country. 

Allusion  has  already  been  made  to  the  importance  of  occupation  in  determin- 
ing the  drinking  habits  of  workingmen.  The  character  of  the  nervous  and 
muscular  effort  which  the  work  demands  is  unquestionably  the  chief  influence  of 
this  sort.  The  cause  of  industrial  drinking  lies,  of  course,  in  the  power  that 
alcohol  has  of  giving  a  sense,  albeit  an  illusory  sense,  of  increased  strength  and 
efficiency.  While  this  feeling  is  largely  subjective,  it  is  nevertheless  very  real  to 
the  drinker;  and,  accordingly,  in  proportion  as  his  work  is  of  a  kind  to  cause 
exhaustion  and  depression,  he  will  tend  to  seek  relief  in  alcohol,  so  long  at  least 
as  its  agreeable  action  is  not  outweighed  by  obvious  and  immediate  disadvantages. 

In  labor  that  demands  only  coarse  muscular  effort,  these  conditions  are  best 
realized ;  the  sense  of  fatigue  is  relieved  by  the  pseudo-stimulant  action  of 
alcohol,  while  the  real  loss  in  keenness  of  perception  and  accuracy  of  muscular 
adjustment  produced  by  the  drug  is  here  relatively  unimportant.  The  more  skilled 
occupations  require  a  steadiness  and  quickness  of  hand  which  is  quite  incom- 
patible with  the  constant  use  of  alcohol. 

Next  in  importance  to  the  nature  of  the  muscular  and  nervous  effort  required 
in  an  occupation,  comes  the  facility  of  access  to  alcohol  during  working  hours. 
It  is,  in  fact,  from  the  interaction  of  this  factor  with  the  character  of  the  muscu- 
lar and  nervous  strain  that  the  drinking  tradition  of  an  industry  is  mainly  formed. 
Since  the  effect  of  alcohol  is  transitory  and  is  followed  by  reaction,  it  is  essential 
for  its  industrial  use  that  the  dose  be  repeated  at  short  intervals.  If  the  intervals 
are  so  long  that  the  period  of  depression  overshadows  that  of  increased  well- 
being,  the  disadvantages  of  the  drug  will  be  sufficiently  evident  to  the  workers 
to  exclude  its  use.  Breaking  the  continuity  of  the  intoxication  compels  the  worker 
to  realize  by  actual  experience  that  the  sense  of  increased  energy  which  he  gets 
from  alcohol  is  a  very  brief  illusion. 

Employers  are  thus  in  a  position  to  do  much  toward  mitigating  the  effects  of 
alcoholism  by  the  character  of  the  shop  rules  enforced.  Many  altogether  prohibit 
the  introduction  of  alcohol  into  their  factories,  and  some  go  farther  and,  by 
starting  temperance  canteens,  encourage  the  use  of  hygienic  substitutes. —  W.  C. 
Stn.LiVAN,  in  Economic  Review,  April,  1905.  K  B.  W. 


7i6  THE]  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Ethnic  Factors  in  Education.  —  The  efficiency  of  our  educational  system 
depends  upon  a  clear  apprehension  of  the  relation  of  the  contributory  sciences  of 
biology,  psychology,  sociology,  and  anthropology  to  pedagogy.  The  purpose  of 
this  paper  is  to  examine  anthropological  facts  and  conditions  which  are  vital  in 
the  development  of  the  American  system  of  public  education. 

The  aim  of  all  education  should  be  at  once  individual,  social,  and  ethnic ; 
for  individualization  and  socialization  proceed  simultaneously  by  like  processes, 
and  both  are  conditioned  by  the  type  of  ethnic  experience  which  forms,  as  it 
were,  the  pedagogical  background.  It  is  a  trite  saying  that  "  the  teacher  must 
understand  human  nature,"  but  we  do  not  always  consider  the  vast  significance  of 
that  requirement.  It  presupposes  a  knowledge  not  only  of  man  as  an  individual, 
but  of  the  effect  of  meteorologic  and  dietic,  of  social  and  physiographic  influences 
which  have  dominated  human  life.  In  primitive  society  the  individual  was  a 
cipher ;  he  lived,  worked,  thought,  prayed,  as  did  his  tribe.  Nature's  chief  product 
was  an  ethnic  mind,  an  ethnic  character,  a  race  of  men. 

The  American  teacher  whose  pupils  represent  half  a  score  of  different  sets 
of  ethno-psychic  characteristics,  is  confronted  by  no  simple  task  in  the  effort  to 
inculcate  our  best  ideals  of  personal  and  civic  righteousness,  and  to  eradicate  as 
far  as  possible  ideals  which  are  adverse  to  our  own.  What  seems  to  us  criminal 
tendency  may  be  but  a  survival  of  a  custom  which,  in  the  view  of  a  more 
primitive  race,  was  a  strictly  moral  act.  Thus  countless  perplexing  problems  of 
the  teacher  root  in  ethnic  mind,  and  can  be  solved  only  when  the  ethnic  factors 
in  the  equation  are  duly  considered,  and  the  inheritance  from  savagery  or  foreign 
national  life  is  given  its  proper  value. 

The  forces  that  have  molded  racial  character  are  largely  age-long,  environ- 
mental influences.  Dr.  Edwin  G.  Dexter  has  shown,  in  his  "  Study  of  Tusayan 
Ritual,"  Smithsonian  Report,  1905,  the  influence  of  definite  meteorological  condi- 
tions on  mental  states.  Whenever,  as  in  the  case  described,  the  very  existence  of 
a  tribe  is  dependent  upon  slender  natural  resources  and  capricious  conditions  of 
rain  and  weather,  there  will  grow  up  rituals  to  prevent  their  failure  and  insure 
a  harvest     "  The  cults  of  a  primitive  people  are  products  of  their  necessities." 

The  persistence  of  ingrained  racial  traits  even  under  an  artificial  environ- 
ment of  civilization  is  a  circumstance  which  must  not  be  lost  sight  of.  With  a 
race  a  thousand  years  are  as  yesterday  with  an  individual.  Nature  will  not  be 
hurried.  Such  facts  are  particularly  applicable  to  our  national  task  of  educating 
alien  races,  such  as  the  Indian,  the  negro,  and  the  Filipino.  In  the  case  of  the 
first  of  these  races,  I  know  of  no  persistent  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  govern- 
ment or  philanthropy  to  develop  the  inherent  Indian  character  by  stimulating  him 
to  the  perfection  of  his  own  arts,  his  own  social  institutions,  his  own  religion, 
his  own  literature. 

A  similar  problem  confronts  us  in  the  Philippines ;  here  many  ethnic  groups, 
each  with  customs,  morals,  ideals,  and  modes  of  reasoning  centuries  old  and 
almost  unknown  to  us,  are  coming  under  our  influence.  We  propose  to  prepare 
them  for  self-government,  and  to  that  end  have  placed  over  them,  in  slightly 
modified  form,  our  highly  specialized  American  public-school  system,  our  only 
guide  to  the  efficacy  of  this,  when  imposed  upon  other  races,  being  the  results  of 
our  experience  with  the  American  Indians.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as 
being  opposed  to  an  educational  policy  for  the  Philippine  Islands,  but  I  do  regard 
it  as  premature  and  wasteful  to  establish  there  a  public-school  system  in  advance 
of  any  considerable  scientific  knowledge  of  the  mind  and  character  of  the  Malay 
race. 

Among   the   conclusions   to   be   drawn    from   this   study   are   the   following: 

1.  The  development  of  a  race  must  be  from  within ;  a  civilization  imposed 
from  without  is  usually  harmful,  often  destructive,  and  always  undesirable. 

2.  Normal  schools  and  other  institutions  for  the  training  of  teachers  should 
give  a  prominent  place  to  anthropological  sciences. 

3.  Our  national  educational  interests  so  greatly  increased  by  our  endeavors 
to  develop  alien  races,  call  for  the  organization  of  an  executive  Department  of 
Education,  in  place  of  our  present  wasteful  and  inefficient  distribution  of  educa- 
tional functions  among  unrelated  departments. —  Edgar  L.  Hewitt,  in  American 
Anthropologist,  January-March,  1905.  E.  B.  W. 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  717 

City  and  Countty  in  the  Life-Process  of  the  Race.  —  To  gain  an  insight 
into  the  measure  and  degree  of  the  conditions  and  dependencies  of  the  dying  off, 
propagation,  displacement,  and  changes  in  quality  of  peoples,  it  is  necessary  to 
study  a  network  of  factors.  In  separating  the  environmental  factor,  city,  the 
investigation  of  different  countries  and  regions  has  made  an  inevitable  coefficient 
of  mistakes.  Yet  there  remains  a  final  impression  as  the  result  of  this  sketch.  It 
is  the  fact  that  only  few  persons  get  the  full  benefit  of  the  culture  of  which  the 
upper  urban  strata  must  be  considered  as  the  bearers. 

As  intellectual  activity  diminishes  the  assimilation  of  food  with  the  upper 
strata  of  the  city  population,  which  are  especially  active  intellectually,  the  rhythm 
of  life  is  retarded.  And  while  in  these  upper  classes  culture  renders  the  life  of  the 
individual  more  splendid,  yet  the  blossoms  of  culture,  being  poor  in  seed,  seem  to 
devour  themselves.  The  lower  strata,  growing  up  neglected,  spread  out  more  and 
more,  and  with  them  physical  and  psychical  evils.  Although  the  economic  impor- 
tance of  a  city  population  in  the  intensive  life  for  gain  shows  itself  with  all  its 
power  in  comparison  with  that  of  the  country  life,  one  sees  that  with  gradually 
growing  prosperity  the  number  of  children  diminishes.  At  the  same  time,  a 
general  qualitative  improvement  is  by  no  means  to  be  expected,  both  on  account  of 
the  change  of  strata  and  the  elimination,  as  they  take  place  in  the  city  in  con- 
trast with  the  country.  But  cities  procure  the  sifting  of  those  who  attain  to  the 
leading  positions  in  all  branches  of  cultural  activity.  The  faster  the  process  of 
citification  drags  population  with  itself,  the  more  quickly  the  alleged  changes  must 
appear.  There  is  no  backward  course  in  the  current  of  this  development.  If  with 
us  the  signs  of  a  moving  downward  from  the  culmination  point  of  the  curve  appear 
only  in  embryo,  yet  the  thousandfold  experiences  from  history  teach  that  the  most 
splendid  culture  perishes  when  the  men  who  created  it,  or  were  able  to  propagate 
it,  lose  their  energy.  A  fatal  role  seems  to  have  been  given  to  the  life  of  cities 
from  olden  times. 

However,  one  will  have  to  ask  how  far  the  consequences  of  city  life  are 
infallibly  connected  with  cultural  development,  and  how  far  our  time  succeeds  in 
making  advantageous  use  of  the  knowledge  of  holding  together  by  virtue  of  our 
superior  domination  over  nature.  The  measure  for  the  full  flower  of  a  community 
is  in  the  coincidence  of  the  maxima  of  its  (i)  economico-political,  (2)  cultural, 
and  (3)  highest  race  (i.  e.,  long  life,  favorable  percentage  of  propagation,  and 
quality)  developments.  Usually,  with  the  curves  showing  race-history,  the  first 
line  to  incline  downward  is  that  for  race-development ;  later  the  economico- 
political  line  falls,  and  last  also  the  cultural  line  runs  down.  The  longer  a  family, 
clan,  tribe,  or  nation  with  a  common  culture  (that  is,  a  psycho-physical  group)  is 
able  to  preserve  in  a  harmonious  manner,  on  the  best  possible  level,  the  three 
mentioned  maxima,  the  higher  will  be  the  cultural,  vital  power,  and  the  more 
excellent  the  human  type  that  its  members  represent.  Every  time  and  every  nation, 
when  it  has  arrived  at  its  apex,  must  ask  anew  how  far  it  is  able  to  do  something 
with  its  means  of  power  against  this  race-destroying  factor  of  cultural  develop- 
ment which  becomes  most  evident  in  the  contrast  between  city  and  countrj' ;  to 
what  extent,  by  virtue  of  its  social  organization  and  by  virtue  of  its  recognition  of 
the  connection  between  the  factors,  it  can  influence  that  process  of  sifting  on  which 
the  cultural  future  depends. —  Dr.  Richard  Thurnwald,  in  Archiv  fur  Rassen- 
und  Gesellschafts-Biologie,  November-December,  1904.  H.  E.  F. 

Documents  on  Charity  and  Conditions. —  Especially  worthy  of  notice  are 
certain  public  documents  which  have  come  to  hand.  The  Report  of  the  Reforma- 
tory Commission  of  Connecticut  —  A.  Garvin,  president  —  January,  1905,  is 
valuable  as  an  argument  for  a  reformatory  for  young  men.  A  Prison  Commission 
Report  (Indiana)  is  an  able  and  convincing  plea  for  the  abolition  of  the  county 
jail  as  a  place  of  punishment,  for  a  system  of  state  district  workhouses,  and  for 
rational  employment  of  youth  in  the  reformatory.  Criminal  Statistics,  appendix 
to  the  report  of  the  minister  of  agriculture  for  the  year  1903,  shows  the  recent 
facts  of  crime  in  Canada. 

"Report  on  the  Growth  of  Industry  in  New  York" — (Albany:  The 
Argus  Co.,  1904;  State  Department  of  Labor). —  This  is  another  valuable  pre- 
sentation of  the  present  condition  of  industry  of  a  great  state  with  its  historical 
background.  The  various  industries  are  analyzed  and  their  development  traced 
during  the  nineteenth  century. 


7i8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Ex-Prisoners'  Rescue  Home. —  We  have  received  from  Mr.  Taneaki  Hara 
the  Eighth  Annual  Report  of  his  work  done  in  the  way  of  protecting  and  assisting 
criminals  who  have  completed  their  terms  of  service  in  prison.  He  began  his 
labors  in  this  line  of  work  in  1897,  when  so  many  prisoners,  released  on  account 
of  the  death  of  the  empress  dowager,  were  wandering  about  Tokyo  without  work 
or  friends.  Something  of  what  has  been  accomplished  may  be  seen  from  the 
following  statistics  taken  out  of  his  report : 

Total  number  of  prisoners  taken  in:     653  (613  men  and  40  women). 
Crimes  committed : 

Burglary     528 

Killing  or  wounding  44 

Incendiarism     34 

Counterfeiting     4 

Gambling    8 

Prostitution     35 

Degree  of  offense: 

First    offense 203 

Second    offense    163 

Third  to  fifth  offense   160 

Fifth  to  tenth  offense  50 

Tenth  to  twentieth  offense   64 

Scores  of  offenses  (women) 12 

More  than  hundredth  offense  (women)    i 

Results  of  protection : 

Men       Women      Total 

I.    Under  watch-care    38  9  47 

3.    Living  in  Tokyo    153  7         160 

3.  Living  in  the  country    177  6         183 

4.  Dead   SS         ...  55 

5.  Whereabouts    unknown     103  s         108 

6.  Ran   away    34  7  41 

7.  Committed  crimes  after  leaving  the  home  ....   S3  6  59 

Total     613  40        6S3 

If  Nos.  s,  6,  7  be  considered  failures,  they  amount  to  only  30  per  cent.,  so 
that  70  per  cent,  are  saved.  Among  those  who  are  living  either  in  Tokyo  or  in 
country  districts,  235  are  married  and  have  121  children. 

The  main  office  of  Mr.  Hara's  establishment  has  been  removed  to  govern- 
ment land  in  Moto  Yanagiwara  Machi,  Kanda  District,  Tokyo,  and  here  the 
women  are  kept.  The  men  have  been  put  into  temporary  quarters  in  Izumi  Cho, 
Kanda  District,  though  some  of  them  are  boarding  with  their  employers.  The 
main  building  was  erected  by  men  who  had  been  protected  in  the  establishment 
and  are  now  engaged  in  lawful  employments  in  Tokyo.  They  included  carpenters, 
bricklayers  and  many  other  kinds  of  workmen,  who  contributed  gratuitously  either 
materials  or  labor.  In  this  way  they  showed,  with  great  pleasure,  their  apprecia- 
tion of  what  had  been  done  for  them  in  their  great  need. —  E7  W.  Clement,  in  the 
Japan  Evangelist,  January,  1905. 

The  Heart  of  Mr.  Spencer's  Ethics. —  Many  readers  of  his  Autobiography 
must  have  asked :  Was  Spencer's  mind  supremely  interested  in  evolution,  in  the 
mystery  of  creative  power,  or  in  the  problem  of  human  conduct  conceived  as  man's 
conscious  adaptation  to  the  conditions  of  his  existence?  The  answer  here  offered 
is  that  he  regarded  the  formulation  of  a  system  of  scientific  ethics  as  the  crown- 
ing achievement  of  intellectual  effort.  His  Autobiography  shows  he  was  ready  to 
make  any  sacrifice  to  square  his  acts  with  his  system. 

In  a  conversation  I  had  with  him  in  the  summer  of  1896,  he  expressed  keen 
regret  that  he  had  misled  readers  with  his  term  "  the  Unknowable."  But  he 
expressed  a  keener  regret  over  the  revival  of  militarism  throughout  the  civilized 
world. 

J  am  now  satisfied  that  there  was  a  conflict  between  his  philosophy  and  his 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  719 

feeling  about  the  modem  situation.  The  postulate  of  evolution,  according  to  Mr. 
Spencer,  is  the  equilibration  of  energy.  He  must  have  seen  that  the  extension  of 
communication  from  the  nations  having  a  balance  of  power  to  the  weak  races 
would  precipitate  transformations  unprecedented  ;  that  science  and  invention  used 
in  exploitation  of  natural  resources  must  revive  struggles  between  economic 
classes  ;  and  finally,  that  only  when  these  gigantic  equilibrations  shall  be  com- 
pleted can  there  be  peace,  a  final  disappearance  of  militarism  with  its  correlated 
type  of  character.  Seeing  this,  Mr.  Spencer's  inability  to  look  upon  the  process 
without  bitterness  is  a  crowning  proof  of  the  intensity  of  his  abhorrence  of  all 
aggression. —  Franklin  H.  Giddings,  in  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  July,  1904. 

H.  E.  F 

The  Government  Prison  Settlement  at  Waiotapu,  New  Zealand  —  an 
Experiment  in  the  Utilization  of  Prison  Labor. —  Off  the  main  coach-road 
through  the  North  Island  of  New  Zealand,  in  a  trackless  volcanic  plain  covered 
with  manuka  scrub  and  steaming  hot  springs,  stands  a  cluster  of  white  huts. 
These  buildings  are  the  scene  of  an  experiment,  philanthropic  or  social,  which 
from  its  novelty  alone  is  of  unique  interest.  The  writer  visited  the  prison  camp 
on  January  31,  1903.     That  was  just  two  years  after  its  opening. 

The  real  work  of  the  prisoners  is  tree-planting.  The  settlement  area  is 
1,280  acres.  The  government  owns  this.  The  soil  is  made  of  volcanic  ash,  from 
four  inches  to  two  feet  deep.  The  o»'vernment  forester  had  found  that  pines 
suitable  for  timber  would  grow  there.  More  than  200  acres  are  already  under 
cultivation.  Everything  is  done  by  prison  labor.  The  men  work  in  parties  of 
twelve,  under  an  unarmed  warder. 

The  prisoners  are  almost  all  men  convicted  of  felonies,  on  charges  such  as 
forgery  and  embezzlement.  Many  are  gentlemen  by  birth  and  education.  No 
attempts  to  escape  have  been  made.  Only  prisoners  of  the  class  working  for  good 
marks  are  sent  there.  Four  live  together  in  each  of  the  fifteen  box-like  houses. 
The  men's  health  is  excellent,  high  level,  climate,  natural  hot  baths,  and  outdoor 
work  being  the  causes.  The  experiment  has  not  been  expensive,  comparing  per 
capita  cost  for  that  at  ordinary  prisons.  Two  similar  settlements  are  now 
proposed. 

In  forming  prison  settlements,  the  government  in  no  way  intends  to  super- 
sede the  convict  labor  used  in  road-making.  It  intends :  ( i )  to  discriminate 
between  classes  of  prisoners,  to  humanize  the  conditions  of  life  for  those  not 
criminals  by  disposition,  and  to  prevent  the  herding  of  hardened  criminals  and 
first  offenders ;  (2)  not  to  interfere  with  free  labor,  as  no  government  could  afford 
to  carry  out  such  a  scheme  of  tree-planting  on  waste  land  except  by  prison  labor. 
—  Constance  A.  Barnicoat,  in  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  July,  1904. 

H.  E.  F 

Crime  in  England. —  For  some  years  prison  reformers  have  referred  to 
England  as  the  one  country  where  crime  was  decreasing ;  but  the  tide  of  statistics 
has  at  last  turned,  and  has  risen  so  high  as  to  awaken  some  concern.  The  increase 
in  the  number  of  commitments  to  100,000  of  the  population  has  been  most  con- 
spicuous within  the  last  three  or  four  years,  rising  from  460  in  1901  to  535  per 
100,000  in  1903. 

Inquiry  reveals  four  probable  causes  for  the  increase:  (i)  Greater  activity 
on  the  part  of  the  police  has  resulted,  in  some  districts,  in  the  more  rigid 
enforcement  of  law  with  regard  to  drunkenness,  immorality,  and  vagrancy.  Thus 
progress  toward  a  better  enforcement  of  the  law  in  a  community  makes  it  com- 
pare unfavorably  as  to  prison  population  with  less  well-regulated  districts.  (2) 
Growth  of  vagrancy  and  of  offenses  against  workhouse  regulations  by  men  who 
prefer  prison  to  workhouse  life  has  helped  to  swell  the  number  of  commitments. 
This  condition  raises  the  question  whether  labor  colonies  on  the  Belgian  model 
might  not  be  established  to  advantage,  where  the  professional  tramp,  who  now 
goes  from  prison  to  prison,  may  be  detained  for  a  long  period  of  time.  (3)  The 
return  of  soldiers  from  South  Africa  seems  to  have  added  slightly  to  the  number 
of  commitments  for  assault  and  drunkenness.  (4)  A  considerable  rise  in  the 
number  of  prisoners  committed  for  debt  is  evident  in  all  parts  of  the  country. 


720  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

It  was  anticipated  that  the  more  rigorous  treatment  of  debtors  in  prison,  which 
was  one  of  the  results  of  the  Prison  Act  of  1898,  would  lead  to  a  smaller  number 
of  debtors  coming  to  prison.  This  expectation,  however,  has  not  been  fulfilled ; 
the  number  of  debtors  has  increased. 

In  two  directions  English  prison  authorities  are  proceeding  on  rational 
lines.  They  are  devoting  their  attention  to  the  professional  or  habitual  criminal, 
on  the  one  side,  and  to  the  juvenile  offender,  on  the  other.  The  detention  of 
habitual  offenders  for  long  periods  on  the  basis  of  their  known  character,  rather 
than  of  their  last  illegal  act,  is  the  only  rational  way  of  dealing  with  them.  In 
spite  of  the  many  industrial  schools  in  England,  it  is  still  a  matter  of  surprise  to 
note  the  large  number  of  boys  who  are  committed  to  prison  for  trivial  offenses ; 
during  the  last  ten  years  192,279  juvenile  offenders  under  twenty-one  years  of  age 
have  been  committed  to  prisons  where  mature  criminals  are  confined.  The  grati- 
fying fact  of  the  increasing  number  of  offenders  upon  whom  sentence  is  sus- 
pended under  the  First  Offender's  Act  and  under  the  Summary  Jurisdiction  Act 
could  be  made  still  more  encouraging  by  the  introduction  of  a  system  of  probation 
officers,  and  of  juvenile  courts. — Samuel  L.  Barrows,  in  International  Journal  of 
Ethics,  January,  1904.  E.  B.  W. 


THE  AMERICAN 

JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


Volume  XI  MAY,     I906 


Number  6 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP 


VICTOR  V.  BRANFORD,  M.  A. 
Honorary  Secretary  of  the  London  Sociological  Society 


I.  An  eminent  sociologist  has  recently  spoken  of  the  "bank- 
ruptcy of  science  as  to  any  choice  of  ideals  of  life,"  and  we  are  told 
that  "sociology,  no  more  than  mechanics  or  chemistry,  has  any 
policy."  That  doubtless  is  the  prevalent  view  in  these  reactionary 
time  when  apostasis  from  science  is  almost  a  fashion.  The  ob- 
ject of  this  paper  is  to  maintain  the  contrary  view.  The  logic  of  its 
argument  may  be  open  to  revision ;  but  the  normal  principle  from 
which  it  starts  will  not  be  gainsaid.  It  is  embodied  in  the  well- 
established  maxim :  "If  a  lion  gets  in  your  path,  kick  it."  There 
are  those  who  believe  that  the  way  out  of  the  present  tangle  of 
sectionalisms  is  to  be  found,  not  by  turning  back,  but  by  pressing 
on.  If  science  cannot  direct  us,  we  must  direct  science.  All  life 
is  growth,  and  science  understood  as  a  spiritual  phase  of  racial 
life,  a  mood  of  humanity,  may,  like  other  spiritual  growths,  be 
trained  and  guided,  within  limits.  Here  as  elsewhere  the  essen- 
tial condition  of  guidance  is  the  presence  of  an  ideal  and  moral 
impulse  toward  it.  It  is  the  contention  of  this  paper  that  the 
ideals  of  science,  always  implicit,  are  now  actually  in  process  of 
being  explicitly  formulated,  and  that  these  ideals  give  promise  of 
a  policy  of  civic  development.  And  once  to  see  and  feel  this  move- 
ment of  science  is  to  participate  in  it,  to  forward  and  to  direct  it. 

'A  popular  lecture  given  to  the  Manchester  Sociological  Society,  Nov.  13,  1905. 

721 


722  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

11.  In  a  first  and  rough  approximation,  it  may  be  taken  that  the 
middle  term  between  science  and  policy  is  potency.  The  concep- 
tion of  potency  presents  itself  to  us  with  a  reality  and  force  pro- 
portional to  the  frequency  and  intensity  of  our  first-hand,  imme- 
diate, and  direct  contact  with  nature.  The  conception  doubtless 
reaches  a  vanishing-point  in  the  mind  of  that  urban  breed  of 
domesticated  animals  which  is  cut  off  from  nature  by  the  continu- 
ous confinement  in  the  cages  called  town  houses.  This  variety 
of  animal  degenerates  into  a  sort  of  city  subnatural  species,  with 
supernatural  cravings.  The  city  in  its  evolution  is,  of  course,  a 
natural  phenomenon.  But  within  the  city  the  barriers  between 
man  and  nature  are  numerous  and  formidable.  Among  the 
dwellers  in  the  cities  it  is  probable  that  the  only  persons  who  are 
in  habitual  contact  with  nature  are  mothers  and  poets.  To  the 
mother  the  infant  is  an  embodiment  and  epitome  of  all  the 
potencies  of  nature.  The  baby,  as  has  been  well  said,  is  a  bundle 
of  potencies.  Its  development  through  adolescence  to  maturity  is 
the  realization  of  its  potency  for  evolution  or  for  degeneration. 
The  process  of  growth  is,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  the 
education  of  the  child ;  that  is  to  say,  the  drawing-out  of  its  poten- 
cies. In  its  training  and  education  the  primary  factors  are  three. 
These  are  the  hereditary  predispositions  of  the  child,  the  resources 
available  for  its  education,  and  finally  the  ideals  of  the  mother. 
It  is  the  last  which  is  perhaps  the  most  important  for  the  progress 
of  culture ;  for,  of  the  three  factors,  the  ideal  of  the  mother  is  the 
most  variable,  the  most  modifiable,  and  therefore  the  most  sub- 
ject to  control  and  guidance.  The  mother's  ideal  is  a  compound 
of  types  of  humanity  that  have  most  appealed  to  her  in  actual  life, 
in  romance,  and  in  history.  In  other  words,  it  is,  whether  she 
knows  it  or  not,  the  historic  or  racial  imagination  of  the  mother 
that  determines  her  ideals.  She  directs  the  education  of  her  child 
toward  her  personal  ideals  of  strength,  of  health,  and  wealth; 
toward  her  personal  ideals  of  beauty  in  person,  of  wisdom  in 
thought,  of -goodness  in  deed.  And  in  proportion  as  these  differ- 
ent aspects  of  the  mother's  ideal  of  manhood  and  womanhood 
harmonize  into  an  imaginative  unity,  a  synthetic  reality,  in  that 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  723 

proportion  she  has  an  educational  poHcy  for  her  child.  Policy  is 
but  a  name  for  a  system  of  dealing  with  one's  resources  for  a 
definite  purpose.  In  short,  a  policy  is  a  scheme  for  the  develop- 
ment of  potencies  in  the  direction  of  an  ideal  realization. 

III.  What  is  the  relevance  of  all  this  for  science  ?  There  are  two 
dominant  moods  or  manifestations  of  science :  the  cosmic,  natural- 
istic, or  geographical  mood,  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other, 
the  humanist,  the  historical,  the  idealist  mood.  In  the  former, 
the  cosmic  mood,  the  scientist  feels  a  relatively  slight  interest  in 
the  human  race  and  its  doings.  There  are  so  many  more  im- 
pressive phenomena  in  the  field  of  observation.  Are  there  not 
one  hundred  thousand  species  of  beetles,  compared  with  a  single 
species  of  man?  The  entomologist  bulks  larger  in  science  than 
the  sociologist,  simply  because  the  boy  is  father  to  the  man.  The 
scientist  in  his  cosmic  mood  is  a  stereotpyed,  a  perpetual  boy.  The 
curiosity  of  the  boy  about  the  wonders  of  nature  ceases  for  the 
moment,  when  his  collection  of  curiosities  fills  the  last  of  his  pock- 
ets. But  the  pockets  of  the  scientist  take  the  form  of  extensible 
museums ;  and  hence  the  temptation  to  go  on  collecting,  until  the 
habit  determines  his  life,  and  in  course  of  time  he  finds  himself 
unable  to  feel  either  the  cosmic  or  the  human  emotion. 

As  the  boy  sometimes  grows  into  the  man,  the  cosmic  scientist 
may  grow  into  the  humanist  one.  He  no  longer  observes  the  phe- 
nomena of  nature  as  a  mere  series  of  sequences  and  coexistences 
following  each  other  in  endless  succession.  He  looks  upon  nature 
as  a  reservoir  of  resources  for  the  use  of  man.  He  seeks  out  the 
potencies  of  nature,  foresees  their  possible  developments  and 
conceives  his  ideals  of  human  life  in  terms  of  the  optimum 
expression  of  known  potencies.  In  Bacon's  phrase,  man  controls 
nature  by  obeying  her.  In  this  respect  science  is  just  the  ordered 
and  growing  knowledge  of  the  ways  of  nature  leading  to  human 
evolution.  Science,  in  its  pure  and  applied  forms,  here  stands 
for  the  collective  resources  of  the  race  available  for  the  mainte- 
nance and  advancement  of  human  life.  Science  is  thus — in  terms 
of  the  illustration  used  above — a  sort  of  generalized  mother  of 
men,  as  it  were  a  race-mother.     And  if  the  policy  and  ideals  of 


724  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

science  for  her  children  are  slow  of  formulation,  that  is  because 
of  the  slow  evolution  of  science  itself.  Arrested  at  the  cosmic 
stage  of  thought,  the  majority  of  scientists  do  not  recapitulate, 
with  sufficient  completeness,  the  racial  evolution  of  the  group 
to  which  they  belong.  Such  racial  recapitulation  is,  as  has  been 
well  said,  nature's  way  of  preparing  for  a  fresh  start.  And 
unless,  therefore,  the  individual  scientist,  in  his  own  personal  de- 
velopment, passes  on  from  the  cosmic,  physical,  or  naturalist 
phase,  to  the  humanist  and  idealist  phase,  he  does  not  undergo 
the  preparation  necessary  to  enable  him  to  contribute  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  science  in  its  proper  historical  evolution.  In  this 
arrestment  of  the  development  of  most  individual  scientists  is 
doubtless  to  be  found  an  explanation  of  the  slow  evolution  of  the 
humanist  or  sociologist  sciences. 

If  we  understand  by  spiritual  power  a  set  of  established  beliefs 
— like  Mohammedanism,  Romanism,  journalism — influencing 
conduct  and  determining  the  mode  of  life,  then  we  must  say 
of  science  that  it  is  an  incipient  rather  than  an  actual  spiritual 
power.  In  this  sense  there  are  sciences,  but  no  science.  If  we 
look  around  us  among  our  contemporaries,  we  should,  most  of  us, 
have  to  search  far  before  finding  an  individual  whose  life  and 
conduct  are  unified  by  science.  Notable  examples  are,  to  be  sure, 
numerous  in  history — such  as  Lavoisier  and  Condorcet,  Helm- 
holtz  and  Pasteur,  Darwin  and  Clifford;  and,  if  it  is  permissible 
to  cite  living  scientists,  Berthelot  and  Haeckel,  Francis  Galton  and 
Karl  Pearson.  Similar,  though  less  notable,  contemporary  in- 
stances are  not  common ;  though  in  all  probability  they  are  more 
numerous  in  the  obscure  annals  of  university  and  academy, 
museum  and  library,  than  most  of  us  imagine.  There  are 
many  whose  lives  are  unified  by  religion,  still  more  by 
marriage,  and  not  a  few  by  Monte  Carlo.  But  the  truth  is  that  as 
yet  science  has  afforded  no  rounded  doctrine  of  humanity 
sufficiently  simple  and  facile  for  the  comprehension  of  the  artisan, 
the  rustic,  and  the  cabinet  minister.  The  difficulty  of  that 
achievement  lies  mainly  in  the  natural-history  fact  that  the  scien- 
tific habit  of  mind  in  the  observation  of  social  phenomena,  though 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  725 

it  is  universal  in  children,  yet  persists  in  few  adults.  It  sur- 
vives adolescence  in  a  certain  number  of  social  investigators — 
like  anthropologists,  folklorists,  economists,  historians,  psycholo- 
gists, etc. — most  of  whom  are  so  highly  specialized  as  to  have  lost 
the  instinct  we  desire  for  a  general  doctrine  of  social  evolution.  It 
survives  also  in  a  limited  number  of  sociologists,  many  of  whom 
are  reluctant  to  be  labeled  with  that  title.  Thus  the  dispersion 
and  isolation  of  the  sociologists,  and  the  ignorance  and  unpopu- 
larity of  the  name,  are  due  not  so  much  to  the  hardness  of  the 
word,  or  the  difficulty  of  the  doctrine,  as  to  the  prevailing  inability 
of  the  folk-mind  to  distinguish  between  science  and  socialism, 
between  science  and  skepticism. 

IV.  Thus,  owing  mainly  to  the  incompleteness  and  sterility 
of  the  social  sciences,  the  unification  of  science  is  very  far  from 
being  a  visible  reality,  and  consequently  the  influence  of  the 
scientific  party  is  relatively  slight  in  every  country  of  the  occi- 
dental world  and  least  of  all,  perhaps,  in  Great  Britain,  with  the 
possible  exception  of  Spain  and  Venezuela.  It  was  but  the 
other  day  that  the  only  high-level  meteorological  observatory 
of  Great  Britain  was  closed  and  the  staff  dispersed,  the 
records  ignored — even  unexamined — and  the  apparatus  offered 
for  public  sale — all  because  the  influence  of  the  scientific  party  was 
not  equal  to  securing  for  its  support  about  £500  out  of  the  140  odd 
million  pounds  which  constitute  the  annual  national  budget.  In 
laudable  over-estimate  of  the  desire  of  other  European  govern- 
ments to  possess  meteorologists,  the  government  of  the  Argentine 
Republic  cabled  to  secure  the  staff  of  the  Ben  Nevis  Observatory ; 
and,  as  they  were  in  this  partly  successful,  it  may  be  that  what  has 
been  lost  to  the  British  Empire  by  this  calamitous  misadventure 
is  to  be  preserved  for  science.  A  measure  of  the  relative  weight 
exercised  in  the  councils  of  the  nation  by  the  scientific  and  militar- 
ist parties  is  seen  in  the  annual  grant  made  by  the  central  govern- 
ment to  the  collective  university  chests  of  Great  Britain  and  Ire- 
land. This  grant  is  about  £100,000  per  annum.  That  is  about 
the  sum  expended  in  keeping  in  commission,  for  a  year,  a  single 
first-class  battleship.     And  if  we  add  to  this  an  allowance  for  de- 


726  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

preciation  and  certain  necessary  incidental  expenses,  the  annual 
cost  of  a  first-class  battleship  would  probably  reach  to  three  times 
the  university  grant ;  for  a  first-class  battleship  costs  about  a  mil- 
lion sterling  to  build,  and  is  not  effective  for  much  more  than  a 
decade;  and  the  addition  of  each  one  to  the  fleet  necessitates  for 
its  full  efficiency  an  increase  of  dockyard  and  harbor  accom- 
modation, the  cost  of  which,  if  it  were  known,  would  probably  be 
found  to  run  into  hundreds  of  thousands  of  pounds.  A  final 
illustration :  An  eminent  astronomer,  who  had  spent  a  long  life 
alternately  in  the  observatory  and  as  professor  in  university  class- 
rooms, recently  retired.  That  his  salary  had  been  little  more  than 
the  earnings  of  a  successful  artisan  need  be  no  ground  of  reproach 
to  the  good  scientist;  but  the  rigid  application  of  official  regula- 
tion, framed  for  a  somewhat  dissimilar  purpose,  resulted  in 
the  allocation  of  a  pension  which  was  entirely  insufficient  to  pro- 
vide for  the  few  and  simple  wants  of  the  aged  astronomer  in  his 
retirement.  Representations  were  made  to  the  central  govern- 
ment and  a  complacent  officialdom  awarded  an  increase  of  the 
pension  at  the  amount  and  rate  of  two  shillings  and  sixpence  per 
week! 

If  we  assume  that  at  present  there  is  no  science,  but  sciences — 
unclassified,  and  therefore  ungeneralized — it  would  seem  to  fol- 
low that  there  is  no  scientific  ideal,  but  only  scientific  ideals — un- 
harmonized ;  and  no  scientific  policy,  but  only  scientific  policies — 
uncoordinated.  The  scientific  party — or  what  would  be  the 
scientific  party  if  there  was  a  common  doctrine  to  give  it  cohesion 
— is  broken  up  into  disparate  groups,  most  of  which  do  not  speak 
each  other's  language.  For  instance,  the  mathematician  and  the 
physiologist  are  separated  from  each  other  by  a  wide  arc  in  the 
circle  of  the  sciences;  but  they  have  this  in  common  that  each 
holds  it  an  article  of  faith  that  he  would  fall  short  of  his  scientific 
duty  if  he  did  not  acquire  the  language  of  France,  Germany,  and 
Italy,  as  well  as  of  England.  But  if  it  should  happen  that  here 
and  there  a  mathematician  or  physiologist  takes  the  pains  of  learn- 
ing the  language  of  comparative  ethics,  folklore,  economics,  or  any 
other  sociological  field,  he  will  be  held  by  his  brother-mathemati- 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  727 

cians  and  physiologists  to  be  doing  what  is  at  best  a  work  of  super- 
erogation, at  worst  an  act  of  reprehensible  wastefulness.  The 
scientist  of  the  physical  or  biological  group  regards  it  as  much  and 
as  little  a  matter  of  scientific  obligation  to  acquire  the  language 
of  the  sociological  group  as  that  of  the  Hottentots.  What,  then, 
amid  this  apparent  confusion  and  disruptiveness  of  science,  is  the 
inquiring  citizen  to  do,  if  he  wishes  to  know  the  bearing  of  science 
on  citizenship?  The  answer  of  science,  as  of  every  other  spiritual 
power,  is  that  there  is  only  one  way  to  know  the  doctrine,  and  that 
is  to  lead  the  life. 

V.  The  scientific  quality  of  citizenship  can  be  apprehended 
only  through  the  scientific  conception  of  the  city.  And  the  first 
question  which  science  asks  about  the  city  is :     What  is  it? 

What  is  a  city?  Legal  and  political  definitions  we  have, 
but  seemingly  no  scientific  ones  as  yet.  Now,  legal  and  political 
definitions,  whether  of  cities  or  of  other  social  phenomena,  are, 
as  it  were,  ready-made  articles  of  common  usage,  alike  popular 
and  recondite.  To  the  majority  of  scientists — that  is  to  say, 
those  arrested  at  the  mechanical  stage  of  scientific  thought — such 
definitions  are  alternately  meaningless  mysteries  to  be  scoffed  at, 
or  shibboleths  naively  adopted  by  these  scientists  themselves, 
whenever  social  action  is  unavoidable  or  social  thought  demand- 
ed. On  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  small,  but  ever-increasing 
number  of  scientists  who  push  on  through  the  world  of  form 
with  which  tlie  mathematical  sciences  deal,  onward  through  the 
world  of  matter  with  which  the  physical  sciences  deal,  and  thence 
through  the  world  of  organic  life  with  which  the  biological 
sciences  deal ;  and  finally  attempt  to  explore,  in  a  scientific  spirit 
and  with  scientific  methods,  the  world  of  mind  and  society  with 
which  the  psychological  and  social  sciences  deal.  And  this,  as 
already  stated,  is  the  normal  progress  of  the  mind.  We  see  it 
exemplified  by  most  of  the  great  leaders.  We  see  it,  for  instance, 
in  Helmholtz,  who  began  his  career  as  a  mathematician,  passed 
through  that  to  physiology  whence  it  was  but  a  single  step  into 
psychology :  and  in  the  later  period  of  his  life  he  interested  him- 
self most  in  education  and  social  questions.     The  same  tendency 


728  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

is  seen  in  Darwin's  transition  from  the  Origin  of  Species  to  the 
Descent  of  Man.  We  have  been  told  that  the  sociologist  is  an 
individual  who  has  failed  to  make  a  career  in  one  of  the  prelimi- 
nary sciences,  just  as,  according  to  Disraeli,  the  critic  is  a  person 
who  has  failed  in  literature.  In  point  of  fact,  this  doubtless  is 
often  true;  but  the  contrary  proposition  still  more  widely  holds, 
that  the  successful  mathematician,  physicist,  or  naturalist  is  just 
an  arrested  sociologist. 

Returning  to  the  question  of  legal  and  political  definitions,  we 
have  to  note  that  these  are  to  the  psychologist  and  sociologist  an 
essential  part  of  the  raw  material  upon  which  he  has  to  work. 
They  are  points  of  departure  in  his  observations,  and  often  supply 
valuable  clues  in  his  researches.  What  definitions  of  the  "city" 
are  available  for  the  purpose?  They  differ,  of  course,  from  coun- 
try to  country;  but  whether  propounded  by  a  lawyer,  by  a  poli- 
tician, or  by  the  man  in  the  street,  they  belong,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
comparative  psychologist,  to  the  folklore  of  their  country.  In 
short,  they  are  pre-scientific.  In  England,  the  legal  definition  of 
a  "city"  is,  as  everyone  knows,  a  place  which  is  or  has  been  the 
seat  of  a  bishopric.  In  other  words,  a  city  is  essentially  a  cathedral 
city.  To  this  we  must  return  later,  merely  noting  it  now  as  for 
the  sociologist  a  great  "pointer  fact"  (in  the  phrase  of  Tylor).  In 
the  United  States  of  America  the  conception  of  a  city  is,  in  ap- 
I)earance  at  least,  of  a  more  material  kind.  In  that  country  there 
is  no  lack  of  resources  of  observation,  for  it  is  a  place  where  a 
crop  of  new  cities  is  grown  annually.  The  progress  of  city-mak- 
ing may  be  seen  as  a  matter  of  almost  daily  observation  in  new 
and  rapidly  developing  states  of  the  Union,  like  Oklahoma  and 
Alaska. 

VI.  There  is  perhaps  no  more  representative  type  of  American 
civilization,  and  also  therefore  of  the  dominant  phase  of  the  con- 
temporary western  world,  than  the  American  railway  engineer. 
He  is  the  true  Viking  of  the  times,  and  is  already  on  the  way  to 
plant  his  forges,  and  open  his  lines  of  communication,  all  around 
the  margin  of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  What  is  the  conception  of  a 
city  in  the  mind  of  the  American  engineer?     Direct  items  of  evi- 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  729 

dence  may  be  gathered  from  almost  any  of  the  innumerable 
reports  on  new  railway  enterprises  which  are  common  documents, 
not  only  in  the  great  cities  of  America,  but  also  in  the  capitals  of 
western  Europe.  The  following  extract  is  taken  from  a  typical 
document  of  this  sort.  An  eminent  engineer  is  reporting  on  a 
proposed  railway  from  Oklahoma  into  Indian  Territory.  He 
records  and  surveys  centers  of  population,  actual,  incipient,  or 
prospective,  along  the  route  of  the  projected  line,  taking  one  center 
after  another  in  the  following  fashion : 

Chickasaw  is  the  recording  town  of  the  Nineteenth  District.  Population 
claimed,  8,000.  The  town  site  has  an  area  of  1,246.19  acres,  and  is  located  in 
the  valley  of  the  Washita  River,  surrounded  by  rich  farming  lands,  where 
com,  wheat,  oats,  rye,  potatoes,  and  all  kinds  of  vegetables,  fruit,  and  berries 
grow  in  abundance.     Horses,  mules,  and  cattle  are  raised. 

It  is  an  incorporated  city  with  a  city  government,  and  is  the  recognized 
jobbing  center  of  the  southwestern  section.  Contains,  among  others,  the  fol- 
lowing industries: 

Chickasha  Cotton  Oil  Co.;  capacity,  120  tons  per  day. 

Chickasha  Milling  Co.;  capacity,  800  barrels  of  flour  per  day. 

Two  elevators;  capacity,  100,000  bushels. 

Chickasha  Iron  works. 

Choctaw  Mill  and  Elevator  Co. 

Traders'  Compress  Co.;  about  30,000  bales. 

Electric  planing  mill. 

Steam  brick  plant. 

Wholesale  grocery,  hardware,  furniture,  saddlery,  and  harness   stores,  and  general 

merchandising. 

The  city  is  provided  with  electric-light  plant,  ice  plant,  two  telephone 

exchanges,  water-works  and  sewerage,  gas  plant  (under  construction). 

It  will  be  noticed  that  this  engineering  conception  of  the  city 
does  not  envisage  a  single  culture  institute — not  even  a  church  or 
public  house.  This,  however,  is  an  omission  rectified  in  a  docu- 
ment issued  by  the  Seward  Chamber  of  Commerce  in  August, 
1905,  descriptive  of  the  growing  towns  and  cities  of  Alaska.  Of 
Seward  itself  the  document  says: 

Although  but  one  year  old,  it  contains  general  stores  of  every  kind,  hotels, 
ten  saloons,  a  bank  capitalized  at  $50,000,  a  daily  newspaper,  four  churches,  a 
flourishing  public  school,  an  electric-light  plant,  and  a  telephone  exchange. 

Of  a  place  called  Fairbanks  we  are  told : 

The  city  had  a  population  of  7,500  on  July  i,  1905,  and  was  equipped  with 
every  modem  convenience,   such   as   telephone,   electric   light,   water-works, 


73©  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

churches,  public  schools,  and  a  daily  paper  receiving  a  full  telegraphic  report 
of  the  world's  news. 

It  is  clear  that  what  the  American  railway  reformer  under- 
stands by  a  city  is  not  a  city  at  all,  but  a  town :  i.e.,  in  the  admir- 
ably direct  and  concrete  phraseology  cited,  it  is  a  "jobbing  center." 
To  the  list  of  the  urban  "conveniences"  the  chamber  of  commerce 
standard  adds  churches,  schools,  newspapers,  and  saloons.  And 
the  progress  in  civic  ideals  is  signal ;  for  churches,  schools,  news- 
papers, and  saloons  are  institutes  of  culture,  which  are  seen  to  be 
the  lower  institutes  of  culture  only  when  contrasted  with  cathe- 
dral, university,  scientific  society,  and  art  museum  as  the  higher 
ones. 

VII.  A  visitor  to  any  of  the  goods  stations  of  the  railways 
running  into  London  from  the  North  will  see  any  day  of  the  year, 
but  more  particularly  in  the  autumn,  vast  numbers  of  coal-laden 
trucks  awaiting  delivery.  It  may  be  said  of  at  least  two  of  the 
northern  railway  systems  that  they  exist  for  the  purpose  of  carry- 
ing coal  to  London.  The  traveler  who  is  carried,  in  about  two 
hours,  from  St.  Pancras  to  Nottingham  in  a  luxurious  restaurant 
car  may  imagine  that  the  Midland  Railway  is  designed  and  ad- 
ministered for  his  benefit  and  comfort.  But  that  is  an  illusion  of 
the  unreflecting  citizen.  The  truth  is  that  the  luxurious  restaur- 
ant car  is  itself  a  by-product  of  the  coal  traffic.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
representative  railway  engineer  the  cities  of  England  are  pri- 
marily just  the  terminal  yards  of  the  collieries,  and  the  citizens 
themselves,  according  to  his  ethical  scheme,  rank  in  status  and 
civic  worth  in  proportion  to  the  capacity  of  their  respective  factory 
furnaces.  With  literal  and  historical  accuracy,  the  typical  rail- 
way engineer  sees  the  modern  locomotive  as  just  an  elaborated 
pit-pump  engine  placed  on  wheels,  and  engaged  all  day  in  hauling 
coal-laden  trollies  from  the  pit  mouth  to  the  cities,  and  all  night 
in  hauling  them  back  empty.  To  the  railway  engineer  science  is 
a  means  of  transmuting  the  energy  of  coal  into  cities  and  citizens. 
It  follows  that  his  policy  of  city  development — or,  as  one  should 
rather  say,  urban  expansion — leans  to  the  erection  and  multipli- 
cation of  lofty  chimney  stacks.     The  ideal  citizens,  pictured  in 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  731 

the  carbonaceous  logic  of  his  occupyation,  are  stokers  and  chimney- 
sweeps. It  requires  little  observation  and  less  historic  insight  to 
verify  the  affirmation  that  urban  expansion  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury was  largely  determined  by  the  unavowed  but  real  ideals  of 
a  coal  civilization. 

The  archaeologists  who  are  so  industriously  deciphering  the 
buried  histories  of  cities  have  found  the  accumulated  survivals  of 
seventeen  different  cities  in  Rome,  And  so  for  other  historic 
cities,  the  successive  phases  of  city  formations  are  marked  by  lay- 
ers of  superimposed  debris,  like  geological  strata,  with  which  in- 
deed they  are  in  direct  continuity.  Each  successive  civic  forma- 
tion is  characterized  by  the  impressions  and  the  marks  of  its 
contemporary  inhabitants,  which  survive  in  respective  material 
structures  like  so  many  sociological  fossils.  Looked  at  from  this 
point  of  view,  the  coal-laden  trucks  and  the  factory  chimney  stack 
with  all  their  associated  structures,  economic  and  aesthetic,  are 
actual  or  incipient  sociological  fossils  of  the  coal  cities  of  the 
nineteenth  century. 

To  the  dwellers  in  these  coal  towns — for  cities  in  the  proper 
sense  they,  most  of  them,  were  not — science  presents  itself  as  a 
kind  of  inverted  philosopher's  stone.  The  accumulated  applica- 
tions of  science  in  the  coal  civilizations  did  not  end  with  the  pro- 
duction of  gold,  but  rather  began  with  it,  more  particularly  that 
which  came  from  Australia  and  California  about  mid-century. 
Given  a  possession  or  control  of  sufficient  quantity  of  the  precious 
metal,  the  citizen  finds  himself  able  to  initiate  a  cycle  of  transmu- 
tations and  to  carry  it  on  up  to  a  certain  point,  after  which  it 
appears  that  the  cycle  completes  itself  automatically.  This  sort 
of  scientific  magic  transformed  coal  into  power  to  make  cheap 
goods  for  the  consumption  of  cheap  laborers,  and  the  cheap  labor 
thus  applied  itself  to  produce  more  power  to  make  more  cheap 
goods  for  the  consumption  of  still  cheaper  laborers ;  and  so  on  in- 
definitely. This  ever-extending  series  of  transformations  evi- 
dently reaches  its  culmination  in  the  growth  of  an  ideal  city  like 
East  London  which  so  magnificently  surpasses  all  other  cities  in 
its  accumulated  reservoir  of  cheap  labor.     Such  are  the  ideals  of 


732  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

civic  policy  which  tend  to  work  themselves  out  in  fact  and  history, 
if  not  in  word  and  theory,  when  city  development  gets  arrested  at 
the  town  stage. 

VIII.  Unfair  as  it  would  be  to  English,  not  less  would  it  be  to 
American  civilization,  as  a  whole,  to  impute  to  it  the  conception 
of  civic  status  restricted  to  the  limitations  of  the  railway  engineer, 
or  even  of  the  chamber  of  commerce.  The  United  States  is  not 
only  the  country  of  railway  cities  and  railway  kings ;  it  is  also  the 
country,  par  excellence,  of  schools,  universities,  and  educationists. 
The  American  "schoolmarm"  balances  the  American  Viking,  and 
the  world  trembles  in  the  hope  and  expectation  that  some  day  she 
may  succeed  in  taming  and  domesticating  him.  In  no  other  way, 
probably,  can  his  disforestings  and  devastations  be  effectually 
stopped,  and  his  destructive  energies  converted  to  more  con- 
structive ideals. 

If  we  define  a  "university"  as  a  degree-granting  institution, 
then  there  are  over  seven  hundred  universities  in  America.  It  is 
the  aspiration  of  every  American  city  to  possess  its  own  univer- 
sity. The  university  is,  in  a  sense,  the  cathedral — a  somewhat 
truncated  one,  doubtless — of  the  American  city,  and  every  citizen 
is  unhappy  until  his  city  gets  what  he  conceives  to  be  its  full  com- 
plement of  culture,  in  the  possession  of  a  university.  Here  as 
elsewhere  the  principle  holds,  Cujus  regio,  ejus  religio;  and  we 
may  agree  with  Herder's  saying  that  "the  school  is  the  workshop 
of  the  spirit  of  God,"  provided  we  are  allowed  the  proviso  of  de- 
fining the  divine  artificer  as  the  God  of  that  region.  Minerva  is 
building  again  her  temples  over  the  land,  and  nowhere  more 
assiduously  than  in  the  United  States. 

These  700  to  800,  American  universities  are,  it  is  true,  reduced 
to  more  modest  dimensions  in  the  impartial  list  of  the  Minerva 
Jahrbuch.  The  German  Compilers  of  this  annual  census  of  the 
academic  world  admit  only  70  universities  in  the  United  States. 
This  number  compares  with  a  list  of  21  universities  in  Germany, 
16  in  France,  18  in  Great  Britain,  78  in  the  rest  of  Europe,  and 
for  the  whole  world  236. 

How  far  may  we  accept  a  certain  vague  popular  sentiment 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  733 

which  attributes  city  rank  to  a  town  that  possesses  a  university? 
That,  to  be  sure,  would  be  a  criterion  of  civic  status  unrecognized 
by,  and  unknown  to,  the  lawyer  and  the  politician.  But  univer- 
sities are  not  institutions  that  appeal  to  juristic  and  political 
minds.  In  Russia  the  state  corrects  academic  exuberance  by 
occasional  application  of  the  military  musket  and  the  police  baton ; 
in  India,  by  proscribing  progressive  literature ;  in  England,  by  the 
more  subtle  processes  of  financial  starvation.  There  is  in  the 
normal  undergraduate  mind  a  youthful  ardor  which  is  highly  re- 
sistant to  the  juristic  ideals  which  lawyers  and  politicians  call 
stability,  and  physiologists  call  ossification.  Is,  then,  this  popular 
conception  of  the  civic  importance  of  the  university  a  useful  start- 
ing-point for  the  sociological  investigator?  In  any  case,  it  is  a 
well-recognized  truth  that  popular  conceptions  are,  for  science, 
more  convenient  points  of  departure  than  culture  ones,  since  they 
are  nearer  to  that  naked  and  unadorned  order  of  nature  to  which 
the  scientist  must  constantly  return  for  the  verification  of  his 
thought. 

IX.  Assuming,  then,  as  a  provisional  criterion,  the  possession 
of  a  university  as  a  determinant  of  civic  status,  we  have  in  the 
university  cities  of  the  world  236  objects  which  actually  exist  in 
time  and  space.  Here  is  an  abundance  of  concrete  objects  for 
observation,  without  which  the  scientific  investigator,  whether  of 
cities  or  of  other  phenomena,  cannot  get  to  work  at  all.  His 
methods,  as  he  is  apt  somewhat  wearisomely  to  remind  us,  are 
those  of  observation  and  classification,  by  comparison,  general- 
ization, prediction,  and  verification  by  return  to  the  concrete.  To 
put  it  most  briefly,  the  method  of  science  differs  from  the  method 
of  other  orders  of  thought  in  the  necessity  for  arranging  the  vari- 
ous stages  of  investigation  in  such  a  way  that  two  possibilities 
are  always  open.  In  the  first  place,  it  must  be  possible  for  every 
member  of  the  scientific  fraternity,  present  and  future,  to  retrace 
and  repeat  every  vital  step  in  any  and  every  investigation,  from 
simple  concrete  observation  right  up  to  the  largest  generalization. 
In  the  second  place,  it  must  be  possible  to  return  from  the  largest 
generalization,  the  loftiest  aspiration,  back  to  the  concrete  facts 


734  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  nature,  by  a  continuous  series  of  steps,  by  an  unbroken  chain 
of  evidence.  This  is  the  sacred  way  of  science.  In  most,  if  not 
all,  great  religions  of  the  East,  a  peculiar  sanctity  attaches  to  the 
conception  of  the  "way."  That  a  mystic  flavor  should  cling  to 
methodology  will  not  therefore  be  surprising  to  those  who  hold 
that  science  is  a  culture  form  of  natural  religion. 

X.  Having  provisionally  agreed  upon  our  scientific  criterions, 
we  have  236  definitive  objects  that  exist  in  space  and  time  under 
the  designation  of  "city."  From  this  proposition,  it  follows  that, 
by  taking  adequate  precautions,  cities  can  be  seen.  It  is  true  that 
to  see  even  a  single  city  is  a  feat  which  few  of  us  ever  achieve. 
Few  of  us  ever  succeed  in  seeing  even  our  own  city,  let  alone 
others.  Hence  the  widespread  illusion  that  cities  consist  of  shops, 
factories,  and  dwellings,  with  public  houses  at  the  comers — ^these 
being  the  objects  presented  to  the  eye  as  one  passes  along  the  open 
tunnels  called  streets.  But  there  are  certain  animals,  like  birds, 
butterflies,  and  some  human  beings,  that  have  the  habit  of  viewing 
terrestrial  objects  from  a  height.  And  it  is  obvious  that  it  is  in 
vertical  perspective  only  that  a  city  can  be  visualized.  The  habit 
of  viewing  objects  both  terrestrial  and  celestial  from  a  height 
was  apparently  much  commoner  among  the  human  species  in  for- 
mer than  in  the  present  times.  Otherwise  how  explain  the  wide 
occurrence  of  special  facilities  for  the  purpose?  The  mounds,  the 
pyramids,  the  towers  of  many  kinds  which  past  civilizations  have 
erected  in  such  abundance  have  doubtless  various  origins.  But 
when  facilities  occur,  as  they  generally  do,  for  reaching  the  sum- 
mits and  thence  making  observations,  we  are  bound  to  infer  that 
we  are  dealing  with  real  observatories,  and  deliberately  planned  for 
that  purpose ;  whatever  other  purposes,  religious,  ceremonial,  com- 
memorative, aesthetic,  these  constructions  may  also  have  served. 
Our  recent  and  contemporary  civilizations  continue  to  adorn  or 
supplement  our  buildings  with  towers  as  inevitably,  and  one  is 
inclined  to  say  as  automatically,  as  the  beavers  build  their  dams 
and  the  bees  their  hives.  But  more  often  than  not  we  do  not 
provide  a  stairway  to  the  summit;  or,  if  we  add  that,  how  seldom 
are  facilities  provided  for  observation  from  the  summits!     Even 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  735 

to  the  old  church  and  castle  towers  that  survive,  with  their  stair- 
way and  their  observing  platform,  access  is  generally  made  diffi- 
cult or  impossible  to  obtain.  We  lock  them  up,  and  if  that  does 
not  guard  them  against  the  curiosity  of  the  citizen  and  tourist 
alike,  there  are  other  well-known  modes  of  generating  indiffer- 
ence. There  is  the  custom  of  charging  an  entrance  fee,  which 
represents  a  considerable  slice  out  of  the  worker's  day.  And  if  all 
these  precautions  shall  fail,  there  is  the  final  and  frequent  re- 
course of  losing  the  key.  Assuredly  the  gods  first  blind  those 
whom  they  wish  to  destroy. 

The  Imperial  Institute  in  London,  which  commemorates  the 
jubilee  of  Queen  Victoria,  is  adorned  with  a  handsome  and  com- 
modious tower  of  many  stories.  In  each  story  there  is  a  large 
chamber.  A  visitor  in  the  early  days  of  the  institute  asked  per- 
mision  to  enter  and  ascend  the  tower.  The  officer  in  charge  was 
complaisant  and  offered  to  conduct  the  visitor  over  the  tower. 
The  key  could  not  be  found,  and  the  visitor  said  he  would  return 
another  day.  On  his  next  visit  he  was  told  that  the  key  had  been 
found,  but  it  was  not  considered  advisable  to  use  it,  for  the  struc- 
ture of  the  tower  was  defective!  Is  any  further  explanation 
needed  of  the  admitted  failure  of  the  institute  in  the  first  decade  of 
its  existence?  Happily  it  has  now  been  reorganized  and  has  en- 
tered on  a  more  useful  phase. 

XI.  In  order  to  see  our  cities  as  they  really  are,  we  must  first 
of  all  see  them  in  geographical  perspective;  and  in  order  to  do 
this,  we  must  recover  the  use  of  existing  towers.  We  must  also 
begin  building  new  ones  designed  and  equipped  to  aid  us  in  seeing 
with  the  eye  of  the  geographer.  In  the  scientific  vision,  the  first 
element  is  the  vision  of  the  geographer.  Or,  putting  it  in  another 
way,  in  the  complex  chord  which  we  call  science,  the  first  note  is 
a  geographical  one.  This  vision  of  the  geographer,  what  is  it? 
Whence  comes  it?  How  may  we  ordinary  citizens  acquire  it? 
What  use  would  it  be  to  us  if  we  did  acquire  it? 

Our  school  initiation  into  geography  acquaints  us  with  a  certain 
scheme  of  form  and  color  symbolism  which  we  call  a  map.  The 
impression  which  intimate  familiarity  with  the  maps  of  our  child- 


736  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

hood  leaves  on  the  mind  is  apt  to  be  a  picture  of  the  country  called 
France,  which  is  little  more  than  an  octagonal  red  patch ;  of  Spain, 
a  square  brown  patch ;  of  Scandinavia,  an  oblong  green  patch ;  of 
the  Rhine,  a  blue  line  running  from  a  dark  patch  called  Switzer- 
land, to  a  blue  patch  called  the  German  Ocean.  The  experience 
of  reading,  observation,  and  travel  doubtless  supplements  and  cor- 
rects these  crude  pictorial  impressions.  And  in  proportion  to  the 
fulness  of  such  later  experience,  we  approximate  more  nearly  to 
the  vision  of  the  geographer,  who  sees  our  globe  as  it  really  is,  has 
been,  and  is  becoming,  in  space  and  time.  The  geographer  sees 
the  land  in  its  varying  relief  from  seashore,  over  plain  and  plateau, 
valley  and  height,  up  to  mountain  summit.  He  sees  below  the 
surface  of  the  waters,  noting  the  space  and  level  of  river-bed,  of 
lake  and  sea  bottom.  He  sees  the  crust  of  the  earth  everywhere 
in  section,  from  the  lowest  and  oldest  rocks  up  through  the  super- 
imposed geological  strata,  to  the  superficial  deposits  which  wind 
and  rain,  storm  and  sunshine,  snow  and  frost  disintegrate  for  the 
making  of  soil,  on  which  the  flora  of  the  world  fixes  itself  and 
feeds,  region  by  region,  and  across  which  the  fauna  of  the  world 
moves  and  makes  its  tiny  marks  and  scratches.  He  sees  the  sur- 
face of  the  globe,  changing  from  day  to  day,  season  to  season, 
age  to  age,  epoch  to  epoch.  And  these  changes  he  sees  to  be 
brought  about  in  part  by  the  place  of  the  globe  in  space,  and  its 
relation  to  other  celestial  bodies,  and  in  part  by  the  very  shape, 
form,  and  character  of  the  surface  and  configurations  themselves. 
Thus  to  the  geographer  the  phantasmagoria  of  visible  things  pre- 
sents itself  as  a  drama — a  great  cosmic  drama  in  which  the  part 
allotted  to  the  human  species  is  both  insignificant  and  predeter- 
mined in  all  essential  respects.  The  operations  of  man  on  the 
planets  are,  from  this  point  of  view,  limited  and  conditioned  by  in- 
exorable cosmic  forces.  The  roads  and  railways,  by  which  man 
connects  his  cities,  are  seen  to  be  the  merest  scratches  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  globe,  wholly  comparable  in  their  significance  to  the 
tracks  which  the  elephants  make  through  the  forest  or  the  buffalo 
across  the  prairie.  The  cities  themselves  are  but  temporary  en- 
campments of  herding  groups  of  animals,  determined  or  condi- 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  737 

tioned  by  such  natural  features  as  a  river  or  a  plain,  an  estuary  or 
a  mountain,  a  coal  bed  or  a  forest.  How  relatively  slight  a 
geographical  disturbance  is  made  by  the  building  of  a  city — even 
a  modern  capital  city — may  be  realized  by  recalling  that  practi- 
cally the  whole  of  the  new  town  of  Edinburgh  is  built  out  of  a 
local  sandstone  quarry,  so  small  that  its  floor  would  not  afford 
camping  space  to  a  traveling  circus. 

XII.  The  foregoing  account  is  intended  to  suggest  the  geog- 
rapher's vision  such  as  he  sees  it  in  his  naturalist  or  cosmic  mood. 
But  the  geographer  is  himself  a  man  and  a  citizen,  and  as  geog- 
rapher he  still  has  his  humanist  or  idealist  mood.  Viewed  in  his 
humanist  or  idealist  mood,  the  world-drama  undergoes  for  the 
geographer  a  profound  change.  The  perspective  changes  from 
the  cosmic  to  the  human  focus.  The  typical  river  valley,  which  is 
the  essential  regional  unit  of  the  geographer,  is  no  longer  a  mere 
fold  of  the  earth's  crust,  in  its  endless  and  aimless  cycle  of  changes, 
but  is  conceived  as  the  realization  of  a  great  purpose.  The  long 
geological  history  of  the  river  valley  is  seen  as  the  preliminary 
preparation  to  fit  it  to  be  the  scene  of  the  exploits  and  aspirations 
of  a  god-like  race  of  beings,  such  as  has  been  suggested  and  fore- 
shadowed by  the  noblest  type  of  the  human  species.  The  design- 
ing and  the  making  of  a  suitable  theater  on  which  the  human 
play  may  develop,  is  a  thought  which  gives  a  new  orientation  to 
the  geographical  conception  of  the  river  valley.  Now  the  soil  and 
the  vegetation  which  cover  its  floor,  the  beds  of  coal,  iron,  sand, 
and  limestone  which  underlie  its  surface,  the  forests  which  clothe 
its  slopes  and  shelter  its  animal  world,  the  metaliferous  deposits 
of  its  mountain  sides,  the  river  which  from  source  to  sea  invites  to 
locomotion — all  these  are  seen  to  be  but  energies  and  instruments, 
awaiting  for  their  orchestration  the  tuning  hand  and  the  idealizing 
mind  of  man.  And  the  city — the  city  which  embanks  and  strides 
the  river,  which  stretches  across  the  plain  and  juts  into  the  ocean, 
which  ascends  the  hill-slopes  or  penetrates  the  mountains — 
what  is  the  part  and  place  of  this  city  in  the  vision  of  the  human- 
ist geographer  ? 

When  we  think  of  the  river  valley  as  the  regional  unit  of  geo- 


738  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

graphical  science,  we  have  to  remember  that  it  is  like  the  ovum  of 
biology — a  developing  unit  containing  the  potency  of  a  great 
realization.  What,  to  the  geographer  in  his  humanist  mood,  is 
the  city,  but  the  effort  of  this  regional  unit  to  realize  its  own 
potency  for  evolution?  City  development  is  thus,  for  the  geog- 
rapher, no  isolated  phenomenon,  but  a  normal  stage — the  cul- 
minating one — in  a  long  sequence  of  events  and  processes.  It 
is  the  ceaselessly  renewed  attempt  to  make  for  each  region  here 
and  now  its  own  Eden — its  own  Utopia. 

XIII.  It  may  be  taken  as  a  postulate  of  social  geography  that 
every  region  contains  the  potency  of  a  city  or  cities  which  shall  be 
for  that  region,  here  and  now,  its  heaven  or  its  hell.  And  in  the 
complexity  of  causes  that  lead  to  evolution  toward  the  ideal  city, 
or  toward  its  negation,  there  is  a  geographical  factor  awaiting 
discernment,  analysis,  comparison  with  the  other  factors,  and 
resynthesis  into  a  synthetic  conception.  The  traditional  civitas, 
the  urbs  soils,  and  other  similar  utopist  visions,  have  thus  their 
necessary  geographical  aspect,  unless  they  are  to  be  completely 
divorced  from  reality.  To  the  traveler  (who  is,  of  course,  an 
incipient  geographer)  one  aspect  at  least  of  the  geographical 
factor  is  necessarily  known.  The  hard  experience  of  the  desert 
is,  to  the  traveler,  a  geographical  prerequisite  of  the  good  time 
that  awaits  him  in  Damascus.  And  if,  dispensing  with  the  geo- 
graphical prerequisite,  he  attempts  to  make  his  Damascus  a  per- 
petual Elysium,  what  happens?  He  is  not  long  in  discovering 
the  reality  of  the  phenomenon  known  in  archaic  phrase  as  the  fall, 
and  he  quickly  discovers  a  vital  connection  between  geography  and 
theology.  Geography  indeed,  like  every  other  science,  has  its 
element  to  contribute  to  the  reinterpretation  and  revitalizing  of 
religious  phenomena.  If  it  may  be  allowed  to  a  modest  geog- 
rapher to  revise  the  judgment  of  so  great  a  theologian  as  St. 
Augustine,  it  would  be  to  point  out  the  tenuity  of  his  geo- 
graphical experience.  Had  St.  Augustine  been  more  of  a  travel- 
er, he  would  doubtless  have  avoided  the  geographico-historical 
blunder  of  believing  that  it  is  predetermined  once  for  all  which 
are  the  cities  of  God  and  which  are  the  cities  of  Satan.    One  of 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  739 

the  truths  revealed  to  us  by  social  geography  is  that  every  city  is 
engaged  from  moment  to  moment,  from  day  to  day,  in  determin- 
ing for  itself  how  far  and  to  what  extent,  here  and  now,  it  is,  and 
will  become  the  city  of  God,  and  how  far  it  is,  here  and  now,  and 
will  become,  a  city  of  Satan.  In  other  words,  predestination  is 
a  recurring,  and  not  a  stationary  phenomenon. 

XIV.  It  may  be  objected  by  some  traitorous  professors  of  the 
science  that  the  humanist  note  has  extremely  little  part  and  place 
in  geography,  and  the  idealist  one  none  at  all.  But  it  is  always 
open  to  us  to  choose  our  standards  of  geography  from  the  great 
founders  of  the  science,  rather  than  from  the  bookworms  parasitic 
on  Petermann's  Mitteilungen.  And,  in  any  case,  to  the  de- 
terminist  geographer,  whose  skepticism  refuses  to  see  the  idealist 
side  of  the  shield,  we  may  reply  in  the  words  of  Turner  to  the 
critic  who  protested  that  he  could  see  nothing  in  nature  like  one 
of  the  artist's  pictures :  "Don't  you  wish  you  could  ?"  The 
father  of  history,  Herodotus  himself,  in  passing  to  humanist 
studies  by  way  of  geography,  made  a  step  which,  in  the  normal 
growth  of  the  geographical  mind,  does  not  stop  short  of  the 
loftiest  social  and  civic  idealism.  This  tendency  is  abundantly 
illustrated  in  the  lives  of  the  great  founders  of  modem  geog- 
raphy. It  is  seen  in  Alexander  von  Humboldt,  who  continued 
and  completed  his  geographical  career  as  counselor  of  state,  and 
coadjutor,  with  his  more  humanist  brother,  Wilhelm,  in  the 
organization  of  educational  institutions.  It  is  seen  in  Karl  Ritter, 
who,  as  he  progressed  in  writing  his  great  work,  was  driven 
more  and  more  to  an  emphasis  of  the  historical  factor.  But  it  is 
seen  most  of  all  in  the  life  and  work  of  Elisee  Reclus,  whose 
recent  loss  we  deplore,  and  whose  place  in  the  history  of  the 
science  it  is  too  soon  to  estimate ;  but  there  are  those  who  believe 
it  will  be  a  culminating  one.  The  eighteen  massive  volumes  of 
his  Geograpie  universelle  were  but  the  preliminary  training  and 
preparation  for  his  magnum  opus,  his  Social  Geography,  happily 
completed  before  his  death,  though  as  yet  unpublished.  But  the 
general  character  of  the  work  may  be  foretold  by  those  who  were 
familiar  with  his  riper  thoughts.     It  is  safe  to  assert  that  his 


740  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Social  Geography  will  more  fully  than  ever  before  demonstrate 
the  continuity  and  correlation  between,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
destructive  action  of  man  on  the  surface  of  the  planet,  and,  on 
the  other,  the  historical  and  the  contemporary  facts  of  human 
degeneration  and  civic  degradation.  But  it  will  also,  unless  the 
work  belies  the  character  of  its  author,  demonstrate  with  unique 
experience  and  conviction  a  continuity  of  ascent  from  geographi- 
cal science  to  the  loftiest  aspirations  of  social  idealism. 

XV-  The  geographer's  vision  of  the  city  as  the  realization 
of  regional  potency  is  a  faculty  not  of  the  professed  scientists  only. 
It  is  possessed  also,  in  varying  degrees  of  fulness  and  clearness, 
by  every  wise  and  active  citizen,  or  at  least  by  every  citizen  not 
altogether  dehumanized  by  the  machinery  of  education  and 
affairs,  or,  as  Mr.  Wells  says,  "birched  into  scholarship  and  ste- 
rility." It  was  the  geographer's  vision  that  prompted  the  city 
fathers  of  Glasgow  to  transform  the  shallow  estuary  of  the  Clyde 
into  one  of  the  great  highways  of  world-commerce.  It  was  the 
absence  of  the  geographer's  vision  that  prompted  Philip  II  of 
Spain  to  cut  off  the  national  capital  from  access  to  the  sea,  by  re- 
moving it  to  the  arid  central  plateau.  It  has  been  the  geographer's 
vision  which  has  inspired  so  many  German  municipalities  to  pur- 
chase and  allocate  to  the  commonweal  large  tracts  of  suburban 
territory ;  and,  wanting  the  geographer's  vision,  our  own  munici- 
palities have  too  often  allowed  the  immediate  environs  of  our  cities 
to  become  the  prey  of  the  jerry-builder  and  the  land  speculator. 
These  are  obvious  and  conspicuous  examples.  But  the  influence 
of  geographical  foresight,  or  its  absence,  is  to  be  traced  into  every 
ramification  of  civic  policy,  into  every  department  of  civic  activity. 
To  draw  upon  the  resources  of  geographical  science  for  the  con- 
struction and  criticism  of  civic  policy  is  a  manifest  obligation,  or, 
as  it  ought  to  be,  privilege  and  pleasure  of  the  city  fathers,  who 
are  immediately  responsible  for  civic  policy,  and  for  the  body  of 
citizens  who  are  mediately  responsible  for  the  same.  But  are 
there  not  also  whole  bodies  of  the  citizens,  into  whose  occupation 
and  livelihood  the  application  of  geographical  knowledge  so  large- 
ly enters  that  they  might  almost  be  called  applied  geographers? 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  741 

Is  this  not  true  of  all  those  classes  engaged  in  the  organization 
of  facilities  for  travel  and  communication,  from  the  railway  man- 
ager to  the  station  porter,  from  the  pilot  to  the  bargeman,  from  the 
hotel-keeper  to  the  cabman,  from  the  road-surveyor  to  the 
crossing-sweeper?  And,  in  less  degree,  is  it  not  true  likewise  of 
the  whole  trading  class,  whose  business  consists  in  shifting  goods 
from  the  place  of  growth  and  production  to  their  destination  in 
the  hands  of  consumers?  For  all  these,  from  the  city  fathers 
to  the  crossing-sweeper,  the  question  is :  Does  each  one  utilize  to 
the  fullest  such  resources  as  contemporary  geographical  science 
can  and  should  supply?  The  president  of  the  Royal  Geographical 
Society  is  the  servant  of  the  crossing-sweeper  who  has  the  knowl- 
edge and  the  imagination  to  use  him. 

XVI.  What  are  the  sources  of  geographical  science?  Where 
are  they  to  be  found?  How  may  the  inquiring  citizen  utilize 
them?  How  may  the  crossing-sweeper  utilize  the  president  of 
the  Royal  Geographical  Society?  If  the  inquiring  citizen  was 
fortunate  enough  in  his  youth  to  commence  a  career  of  travel  and 
exploration,  by  frequent  truancy  from  school,  then  doubtless  he 
acquired  habits  of  observation  which  later  on  became  disciplined 
into  a  scientific  temperament.  Doubtless,  in  that  happy  case,  he 
is  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  resources  of  geography.  But 
most  of  us  grew  up  into  respectable  citizens  uninspired  by  that 
fear  of  the  schoolmaster  which  is  the  beginning  of  science.  And 
if  we  have  our  scientific  education  still  in  front  of  us,  we  cannot 
do  better  than  begin  it  by  buying  a  copy  of  the  admirable  annual 
called  the  Science  Year  Book,  issued  by  Messrs.  King,  Sell  & 
Olden,  of  Chancery  Lane. 

Of  the  seven  or  eight  sections  into  which  the  contents  of  this 
publication  are  divided,  there  is  one  called  "Scientific  and  Tech- 
nical Institutions."  A  first  glance  at  the  contents  of  this  section 
might  lead  one  to  suppose  that  the  book  is  of  a  humorous  and 
satirical  kind,  for  its  list  of  scientific  and  technical  institutions 
begins  with  an  enumeration  of  "Government  Offices."  Saving 
this  lapse,  the  book  is  to  be  taken  as  a  serious  manual.  It 
enumerates,  and  briefly  indicates  the  functions  of,  ninety-nine 


742  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

organizations  in  Great  Britain  called  "Scientific  and  Learned 
Societies."  These  include  small  new  groups,  such  as  the  thirty 
oceanographers  who  constitute  the  Challenger  Society,  and  who 
meet  once  a  quarter  in  the  rooms  of  the  Royal  Society  in  London, 
and  periodically  issue  a  series  of  oceanographic  charts.  But 
among  the  purely  scientific  societies,  that  which  attains  to  the 
largest  membership  is  the  Royal  Geographical,  with  its  4,180 
members.  The  functional  activities  of  the  Geographical  Society 
are  described  as  follows  in  the  Science  Year  Book: 

1.  Meetings. — Weekly,  November  to  June,  evening;  anniversary,  fourth 
Monday  in  May. 

2.  Publications. — The  Geographical  Journal,  monthly;  Y ear-Book  and 
Record;  and  various  special  publications. 

3.  Miscellaneous. — Medals:  Two  royal  gold  medals,  the  Founder's  and 
the  Patron's,  awarded  annually;  and  the  Victoria  medal  at  intervals.  Money 
grants  are  also  made  from  trust  funds.  A  fine  library  of  upward  of  37,000 
books  and  pamphlets  is  maintained,  and  a  map-room.  The  latter  receives  a 
government  grant  of  £500  per  annum,  on  condition  that  the  public  shall 
have  access  to  the  collection. 

Now,  the  monthly  Geographical  Journal,  the  chief  organ  of 
the  society,  is  an  invaluable  publication,  but  the  only  person  who, 
in  all  probability,  reads  it  through  is  its  own  editor;  and  that  is 
as  it  should  be.  Life  is  too  short  to  read  the  Journal  of  the  Geo- 
graphical or  any  other  scientific  society.  But  what  everyone 
should  do  is  to  utilize  the  spiritual  organization  whose  visible 
organs  are  the  whole  series  of  scientific  periodicals.  To  do  this 
we  must  know  how  to  consult  the  files  of  these  periodicals;  in 
other  words,  how  to  put,  and  answer,  questions  through  their 
pages.  All  these  learned  periodicals  would  be  more  popular,  were 
the  common  and  obvious  fact  known  to  editors  and  proprietors  of 
newspapers — as  conceivably  some  day  it  may  be — that  the  most 
abstruse  and  recondite  of  scientific  journals  is  nothing  but  a 
variety  of  the  familiar  publication  known  as  Notes  and  Queries 
in  its  higher  form,  and  in  its  lower  forms  Tit  Bits  and  Answers. 
It  would,  indeed,  introduce  an  agreeable  and  useful  uniformity 
in  periodical  nomenclature  if  there  could  be  one  generic  name, 
with  adjectival  differentiations,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  Zeit- 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  743 

schrift  fur  Socialwissenschaft  calling  itself  Social  Notes  and 
Queries,  and  the  Archiv  fiir  Rassen^und  Gesellschafts-Biologie 
calling  itself  Race  Notes  and  Queries,  and  so  forth.  That  the 
analogy  between  the  popular  and  scientific  variety  is  real,  and  not 
fanciful,  will  further  be  recognized  when  it  is  observed  that  what 
are  called  conundrums  and  solutions  in  the  one  are  called 
memoirs  and  hypotheses  in  the  other.  And,  moreover,  the  suc- 
cessful contributors  are,  it  will  be  seen  by  reference  to  the  above 
description  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society,  rewarded,  if  not 
by  participation  in  a  guinea  prize,  yet  by  one  or  other  of  "the  two 
royal  gold  medals  which  are  awarded  annually"  and  "the  Vic- 
toria medals  which  are  awarded  at  intervals," 

XVII.  The  Journal  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society  con- 
sists of  two  parts.  There  is  in  each  month's  Journal  a  bundle  of 
maps  and  a  budget  of  letterpress.  In  order  to  utilize  the  re- 
sources of  the  society,  which  function  through  its  Journal  and 
other  publications,  one  must  learn  the  interpretation  of  the  sym- 
bolism and  notation  of  the  maps,  and  one  must  acquire  familiarity 
with  the  few  technical  formulse  which  occasionally  break  through 
the  ordinary  and  simple  language  of  its  letterpress.  There  are 
simple,  easy,  and  pleasant  ways  of  achieving  both  these  ends — 
in  fact,  short-cuts  by  which  one  may  penetrate  right  into  the 
heart  of  geographical  science.  To  master  the  symbolism  and 
notation  of  cartography,  all  one  has  to  do  is  to  compare  the  best 
contour  maps  (that  is  to  say,  those  of  the  Ordnance  Survey) 
with  what  one  sees  with  naked  eye,  with  field-glass,  or  with  tele- 
scope, when  one  ascends  all  the  high  points  of  vantage  in  one's 
own  region.  These  high  points  of  vantage  are,  of  course,  for 
the  towns  and  cities,  their  towers  such  as  they  may  be,  and  for 
the  surrounding  country  whatever  mound,  hilltop,  or  mountain 
summit  one's  excursions  and  explorations  may  discover.  The 
primary  problem  of  the  cartographer  is  to  show,  by  symbolic 
notation  on  a  flat  surface,  all  the  varying  heights  and  shapes 
assumed  by,  or  imposed  on,  the  earth's  surface  above  or  below 
sea-level.  What  the  ideal  geographer,  as  cartographer,  first  of 
all  tries  to  do  is  to  devise  a  notation  by  which  he  and  his  fellow- 


744  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

geographers,  by  the  inspection  of  a  map  of  a  given  region,  may 
get  a  simultaneous  vision  of  the  terrestrial  phenomena  which  all 
the  explorers  and  observers  of  that  region  have  collectively  seen. 
Now,  it  must  always  be  that,  however  minutely  observed  and 
explored  a  region — even  the  most  inhabited — may  be,  there  is 
always  something  new  to  be  observed,  even  in  the  shape  and 
configuration  of  the  surface,  for  these  are  always  changing; 
while  the  things  and  events,  natural  and  human,  which  are  con- 
tinuously happening  (for  these  also  have  to  be  mapped  down), 
open  up  an  endless  vista  for  the  future  development  of  carto- 
graphic science.  Hence  there  is  no  more  easy  and  natural 
individual  progress  than  for  the  schoolboy  beginner  to  pass 
onward  from  simple  observation  of  recorded  phenomena  to  dis- 
covery of  new  ones.  Once  begin  in  the  right  way  and  acquire — 
which  is  so  easily  done — the  right  habits,  and  then  the  position 
of  discoverer  will  be  reached  by  a  normal  and  natural,  an  insen- 
sible and  inevitable,  growth.  As  elsewhere,  it  is  the  first  step 
which  costs,  and  here  it  costs  two  shillings — that  being  the  price 
of  a  "Bartholomew"pocket  tourist  map  for  your  own  region.  It 
will  be  on  a  scale  of  two  miles  to  the  inch,  if  you  are  fortunate 
enough  to  be  a  Scotsman;  and  four  miles  to  the  inch,  if  you 
happen  to  have  the  disadvantage  of  living  in  England.  These 
maps  you  carry  with  you  on  your  walks,  your  bicycle  rides, 
your  river  excursions ;  and  when  you  get  back  to  the  town  or  city 
of  your  region,  you  go  to  the  free  or  other  library  where  the 
largest  ordnance  maps  are  kept,  and  you  observe  how  the  things 
you  have  seen  are  noted,  or  are  not  noted  on  these  ordnance  maps. 
And  if  they  are  not  noted,  there  and  then  you  begin  your  ap- 
prenticeship in  scientific  research,  in  seeking  out  other  maps 
which  record  different  varieties  of  regional  phenomena;  for 
example,  the  kind,  the  quantity,  and  the  distribution  of  its  fauna 
and  flora;  its  rainfall  and  its  vSunshine;  the  statistics  of  its  pop- 
ulation ;  its  routes  and  communications,  and  so  forth  indefinitely. 
The  problems  which  the  young  geographer  finds  in  front  of  him 
grow  rapidly  in  number  and  complexity,  but  his  interest  in  fa- 
cing, in  investigating,  and  in  solving  them  will  be  found  to  grow 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  745 

Still  faster.  The  explorations  in  the  open  air,  alternating  with 
research  in  library  and  study  and  map-room,  will  very  soon  whet 
an  insatiable  appetite  for  an  understanding  of  the  ever-changing 
phenomena  of  his  region.  The  pleasures  of  observation,  which, 
unlike  other  sensual  pleasures,  do  not  pall  with  usage,  are  them- 
selves succeeded  by  the  still  keener  pleasure  and  intenser  joy  of 
generalization  and  interpretation.  In  brief,  the  outlook  on  the 
visible  phenomena  of  one's  region  itself  evokes  and  inspires  a 
craving  for  insight  into  the  larger  world,  into  which  our  own 
region  extends  on  all  sides  by  insensible  gradation,  and  to  which 
it  is  felt  to  be  linked  by  innumerable  bonds.  It  is  just  here, 
where  the  margin  of  his  own  region  melts  into  that  of  the  sur- 
rounding world,  that  the  student  requires,  and  may  readily 
utilize,  the  full  resources  of  the  whole  science  of  geography. 
His  previous  reading  will  have  been  of  the  best  geological  and 
geographical  accounts  of  his  own  region,  and  the  comparison  of 
these  with  what  he  has  seen  with  his  own  eyes.  This  preliminary 
study  will  have  insensibly  familiarized  him  with  the  technical 
phrases  and  formulae  which  are  necessary  for  getting  into  touch 
with  his  brother-geographers  elsewhere  over  the  globe,  and 
utilizing  the  observations,  the  thought,  the  interpretation  of  these, 
as  well  as  the  accumulated  writings  of  their  forerunners,  in  the 
concerted  effort  of  the  whole  past  and  present  race  of  geographers 
to  visualize  and  to  understand  what  passes  on  the  surface  of  the 
globe. 

XVIII.  To  realize  the  magnitude  of  what  might  be  called  the 
geographical  group  in  Britain,  we  must  add  to  the  4,150  mem- 
bers of  the  society  located  in  London  the  members  of  various 
local  societies,  such  as  those  in  Manchester  and  Liverpool,  and 
also  the  considerable  number  of  unattached  map-makers  and 
geographical  observers  and  writers.  And  again  to  these  have  to 
be  added  the  corresponding  group  in  Scotland,  of  which  the 
Royal  Scottish  Geographical  Society  is  the  nucleus,  with  its  1,100 
members,  its  monthly  Journal  and  other  publications  issued  from 
its  headquarters  in  Edinburgh;  there  being  associated  societies 
in  Glasgow,  Aberdeen,  and  Dundee.  And,  furthermore,  every 
capital  in  Europe,  and  many  of  the  larger  of  the  provincial  towns, 


746  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

contain  similar  groups  of  professed  geographers  with  similar 
organizations,  journals,  and  other  publications.  The  New  World 
also  has  its  geographical  societies,  and  with  the  formation  of 
one  in  Japan  they  are  penetrating  the  Orient.  Here,  then,  is  no 
national,  or  even  international,  but  a  world-wide  phenomenon 
— a  universal  brotherhood.  It  is  a  real  fraternity  in  which  the 
individual  members  and  the  several  groups  are  linked  together  by 
a  highly  organized  system  of  intercommunications,  by  common 
aims  and  purposes,  by  a  common  method  of  thought  and  ob- 
servation, by  a  common  symbolism  and  system  of  formulae,  by 
common  beliefs  about  the  world  and  men's  place  therein.  To 
imagine  the  resources  of  geographical  science,  we  must  think 
not  only  of  its  accumulated  documents,  instruments,  and  apti- 
tudes, but  also  in  a  still  higher  degree  of  the  spiritual  forces 
that  pervade  and  animate  this  universal  organization,  this  world- 
extensive  community  of  similar  minds.  And  anyone  who  is 
learned  enough  to  master  the  symbolism  of  geography,  to  consult 
the  files  of  the  periodical  publications,  is,  if  not  a  full  brother, 
yet  a  novitiate  of  this  universal  fraternity.  And  to  be  a  mem- 
ber of  this  community,  what  does  it  mean?  It  means  much  or 
little,  ini  proportion  to  the  impulse  and  knowledge  to  utilize  the 
collective  resources  of  the  community. 

XIX.  It  is  the  boast — and  a  real  and  justifiable  boast — of  the 
Catholic  church  that  its  pope  is  a  servant  of  every  member  of  the 
church  down  to  the  most  insignificant — that  he  is,  in  name  and 
fact,  servus  servorum.  Now,  in  the  scientific  community  there 
is  no  pope,  but  there  are  many  high-priests.  The  scientific  com- 
munity is  a  democratic  organization,  not  a  hierarchic  one.  Its 
high-priests  are  just  those  members  of  the  community  who  have 
themselves  done  most  to  forward  the  progress  of  their  science. 
Every  high-priest  of  geography,  as  of  every  science,  is,  in  quite 
a  literal  sense,  a  slave  of  every  investigator  who  is  working  in 
that  particular  field,  or  a  related  one.  The  organization  of  re- 
search, and  the  system  of  intercommunications,  are  so  arranged 
that  the  tasks  that  are  beyond  the  strength,  and  the  problems  be- 
yond the  power,  of  the  ordinary  members  of  the  community,  are 
continually  being  collected  and  automatically  delivered  at  the 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  747 

workshop  of  this  or  that  high-priest.  His  workshop  is  usually 
a  small  room  with  a  few  books  and  maps.  Here,  without  fee 
or  charge,  he  completes  the  unfini^ed  tasks,  and  solves  the 
harder  problems;  and  hence  he  delivers  the  finished  goods  as  a 
free  gift  to  the  community  at  large.  He  is  fortunate  indeed  if 
he  escapes  without  having  himself  to  pay  the  cost  of  delivery. 
The  reward  of  his  office  is  harder  work,  less  pay,  and  more 
criticism  than  that  of  the  ordinary  brothers.  The  high-priest  of 
geography,  as  of  other  science,  is  not  differentiated  by  sartorial 
insignia,  by  definitive  status,  or  by  obsequious  designation,  but 
is  generally  recognizable  by  certain  personal  characteristics — by 
the  world-light  that  shines  from  his  eyes,  by  the  nobility  of  his 
countenance,  by  his  threadbare  coat,  and  usually,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, by  the  baldness  of  his  head.  In  the  common  phrase  of 
everyday  life,  he  is  known  as  an  "eminent  scientist."  In  the 
jargon  of  his  profession,  he  is  "an  authority." 

It  is  the  real,  though  unexpressed,  ambition  of  every  young 
scientist  to  become  "an  authority."  In  the  many  graduated 
stages  toward  this  consummation  there  is  one  of  special  signifi- 
cance. If  the  young  observer  steadily  continues  his  observations 
and  interpretations,  and  faithfully  compares  his  results  with  the 
records  of  science,  he  will  find  that  he  steadily  progresses  toward 
a  climax.  He  will  some  day  catch  a  moment  or  a  mood,  a  phase 
or  a  happening,  in  the  fleeting  movement  of  things,  which  will 
thrill  him  with  an  emotion  intenser  than  any  he  has  before  ex- 
perienced. He  will  instinctively  feel  that  one  of  the  secrets  of  the 
universe  has  been  revealed  to  him  and  to  him  alone.  Under  the 
mysterious  glow  of  unforgettable  enthusiasm,  he  will  feel  his 
personality  expand,  until  the  self  of  his  ego  meets  and  touches, 
in  a  sublime  union,  the  self  of  the  world.  In  other  words,  he  has 
been  initiated  into  the  fraternity  of  science,  and  for  the  first  time 
he  is,  and  feels  himself  to  be,  no  novice,  but  a  full  brother  of  the 
community. 

It  is  clear  we  are  here  in  the  presence  of  a  psychological  phe- 
nomenon known  in  another  walk  of  life  as  "conversion."  In 
science  it  is  known  as  the  discovery  of  a  new  truth.  It  may  be 
a  truth  which  is  of  the  most  trifling  importance  in  relation  to  the 


748  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

total  body  of  ordered  knowledge,  which  we  call  science.  But 
the  event  is,  in  the  life-history  of  the  individual  scientist,  one  of 
most  profound  significance.  It  is,  if  not  a  turning  fn  his  career, 
yet  an  experience  which  will  not  be  without  its  effect  upon  his 
whole  future  life.  As  is  the  way  of  the  older  spiritual  com- 
munities, the  event  here,  too,  is  celebrated  by  a  particular 
ceremony  of  initiation.  The  scientific  ritual  of  initiation  has 
two  well-marked  stages.  The  first  consists  in  the  contribution 
of  a  memoir  to  the  proceedings  of  the  relevant  society.  The 
second  consists  of  a  copious  baptism  in  the  form  of  a  cold-water 
douche  of  criticism,  from  his  brother  scientists. 

XX.  If  the  foregoing  analysis  has  suggested  a  fanciful 
analogy  between  religion  and  scientific  experience,  it  has  entirely 
failed  in  its  purpose.  The  intention  has  been,  not  to  suggest  an 
analogy,  but  to  indicate  an  essential  similarity,  indeed  a  partial 
identity,  of  typye.  In  the  language,  not  of  psychology,  but  of 
sociology,  the  contention  is  that  the  scientific  and  religious 
groups  are  vitally  related  in  their  social  origins  and  functions. 
Addressing  an  audience  of  biologists,  one  would  probably  convey 
the  intended  impression  by  saying  that  science  and  religion  are 
social  organs  which  are  in  part  both  homologous  and  analogous. 
But  the  rightly  discredited  usage  of  biological  terminology  in 
social  science  prohibits  recourse  to  that  language.  The  argu- 
ment is  that  science  has  its  social  as  well  as  its  logical  and 
psychological  aspects,  and  that,  from  the  former  point  of  view, 
a  scientific  society  is  manifestly  to  be  classed  among  the  social 
institutions ;  and  that,  moreover,  in  the  wide  and  varied  range  of 
social  institutions,  the  place  of  a  scientific  society  is  alongside  of 
the  church.  The  characteristics  possessed  in  common  by  the 
religious  and  scientific  community  can  be  traced  out  in  detail. 
If,  for  instance,  the  scientist  resorts  to  a  public  library  to  read 
the  journal  of  his  particular  society,  he  is  obviously  paralleling 
the  tendency  of  the  laxer  churchman  to  escape  the  monthly  col- 
lection for  what  in  certain  nonconformist  churches  is  called  the 
sustentation  fund.  But  minute  detail  and  formal  aspect  apart, 
what  is  it  that  constitutes  the  essential  similarity  of  type  in  the 
religious  and  scientific  group? 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  749 

The  immense  multiplication  of  religious  sects  in  the  present 
day,  and  in  history,  is  popularly  accounted  one  of  the  least  cred- 
itable features  of  civilization.  The  skeptics  deprecate  it  as  a 
bad  habit,  like  alcoholism  and  immorality,  into  which  the  un- 
cultivated man  is  prone  to  fall.  But  in  itself,  and  apart  from  its 
secondary  effects,  the  mere  proliferation  of  sectionally  religious 
bodies  is  simply  an  expression  of  spiritual  freedom.  In  joining 
this,  that,  or  the  other  church,  in  remaining  within  its  fold  or  in 
leaving  it,  the  individual  believes  himself  to  be  actuated  by  non- 
material  motives.  He  believes  that  he  is  uninfluenced  alike  by 
the  parliaments  that  make  laws,  the  bureaucracies  that  administer 
them,  and  the  judges  that  interpret,  or  misinterpret,  them.  He 
believes  that  his  religious  life  is  unconditioned  by  the  policeman 
visible  at  the  street  comer,  by  the  sovereign  invisible  on  his 
throne,  and  the  soldiers  that  display  his  royal  uniform.  In  brief, 
the  member  of  a  religious  community  believes  himself  to  have 
risen  into  a  world  of  spiritual  freedom,  untrammeled  by  the  prcH 
hibition  and  compulsion  which  in  civil  history  are  called  law  and 
politics;  in  natural  history,  tooth  and  claw.  How  far  this  belief 
in  a  life  of  spiritual  freedom  is  real,  and  how  far  it  is  illusory, 
matters  not  for  the  moment.  The  point  of  insistence  is  that  the 
members  of  a  religious  community  are  bound  together  by  simi- 
larity of  ideas  and  feelings,  and  not  by  bonds  which  rest  upon  a 
potential  recourse  to  physical  force.  In  other  words,  the  social 
influences  immediately  operative  upon  and  among  a  religious 
community  are  mental,  moral,  and  aesthetic.  They  are  not  leg^l 
and  political.  And  in  this  respect,  at  least,  it  is  sufficiently  mani- 
fest that  the  scientific  community  resembles  a  religious  one. 

XXI.  It  is  one  of  the  merits  of  Comte  to  have  aided  the 
progress  of  thought  by  generalizing  under  the  one  conception  of 
spiritual  powers  all  those  agencies  and  institutions  which  in- 
fluence men  by  mental,  moral,  and  aesthetic  considerations.  His 
corresponding  conception  of  temporal  powers  generalizes  agen- 
cies and  institutions  which  operate  on,  or  influence,  conduct  by 
an  actual  or  potential  recourse  to  physical  force.  The  spiritual 
powers  thus  seek  to  substantiate  or  to  modify  belief — using  that 


750  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

term  in  its  broadest  sense — using  as  their  instruments  ideas  and 
emotions.  Temporal  powers  seek  to  determine  conduct  by  using 
material  rewards  as  impulse,  and  physical  fear  as  deterrents. 

The  popular  distinction  between  state  and  church  may  be 
regarded  as  a  particular  case  of  the  wider  popular  distinction 
between  the  law  and  the  gospel;  and  this  again  is  a  particular 
case  of  the  larger  scientific  generalization  of  temporal  and  spir- 
itual powers.  There  are,  of  course,  practical  advantages  which 
prompt  the  popular  mind  to  extend  its  widening  circles  of  general 
concepts,  which  again  are  further  refined  and  developed  by 
science.  The  general  concept  is  to  a  mere  collection  of  facts  what 
regimentation  is  to  a  mob  of  men.  It  enables  one  to  neglect 
individual  eccentricities,  and  predict  the  collective  behavior  of  the 
group,  whether  the  group  consists  of  items  called  facts  or  items 
called  men.  The  inducement  to  widen  the  generalization  is, 
that  the  larger  its  scope,  the  broader  are  the  limits  of  prediction. 
The  assumption  made  is  that  the  process  of  generalization  is  a 
gradual  one,  and  that  the  steps  from  the  concrete  facts  up  to  the 
largest  generalization  are  all  traceable  without  a  break.  In  other 
words,  a  generalization  must  be  of  a  kind  which  in  science  is  called 
verifiable,  that  is  to  say,  the  prediction  based  upon  it  must  refer 
to  a  course  of  future  events,  which  must  either  happen  or  not 
happen  at  a  given  place  and  within  a  given  and  finite  time.  And 
this  proviso  of  verifiability  gives  a  definiteness  and  fixity  to  scien- 
tific generalizations  which  is  often  absent  from  those  alike  of  the 
popular  mind  or  of  the  poetic  imagination. 

XXII.  There  are  those  who  tell  us  that  there  is  no  proper 
science  of  society,  because  there  are  no  known  sociological  laws. 
Others  go  still  farther  and  say  that  the  nature  of  human  society 
is  such  that  no  social  laws  are  discoverable;  that  there  is  no 
science  of  human  society;  that  sociology  not  only  does  not,  but 
never  will,  exist.  This  is  a  mode  of  argument  well  known  to 
historians  of  scientific  thought.  It  has  been  used  at  every  epochal 
advance,  by  the  obscurantists,  to  justify  their  ignorance  and 
soothe  their  vanity.  It  belongs,  in  fact,  to  the  self-protective 
devices  so  common  everywhere  throughout  the  organic  world, 
and  especially  among  the  higher  animals.     Probably  the  most 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  751 

effective  reply  to  this  sort  of  criticism  is  for  the  scientific  ob- 
server to  ignore  it,  and  to  continue  without  interruption  his 
observations  and  generalizations  of  them.  If  those  who  tell  us 
there  are  no  laws  in  social  science  would  say  instead  that  they 
theinselves  do  not  know  any  such  laws,  we  might  be  happy  to 
agree  with  them.  And  if  those  who  say  there  never  can  be  any 
such  laws  would  say  instead  that  they  themselves  are  determined 
never  to  know  any  such  laws,  we  might  extend  to  them  our  com- 
passion and  recommend  a  course  of  medical  treatment. 

In  point  of  fact,  what  generalizations,  in  the  nature  of  scien- 
tific law,  are  there  at  the  disposal  of  the  sociologist  who  wishes 
to  predict  the  future  of  an  incipient  spiritual  power?  A  full 
stock-taking  of  resources  would  here  disclose  a  considerable 
number  of  working  formulae,  which  resume  a  vast  mass  of  ex- 
perience as  to  the  origin,  growth,  and  decay  of  various  forms  of 
spiritual  power. 

But  for  the  present  purpose  the  following  generalizations  es- 
pecially serve,  viz : 

1.  That  spiritual  powers,  in  the  course  of  their  historical  de- 
velopment, gradually  conceive  and  formulate  a  social  ideal,  and 
this  social  ideal  tends  to  be  in  conflict  with  the  existing  temporal 
power. 

2.  That  each  spiritual  power  tends  to  develop  two  types  of 
organized  community — a  type  predominantly  passive  and  con- 
templative, and  a  type  predominantly  active  and  militant. 

3.  That  the  active  type  of  spiritual  community  endeavors  to 
generate  a  congruent  form  of  temporal  power  as  the  material 
embodiment  and  mundane  expression  of  its  particular  social 
ideal. 

4.  That  in  this  endeavor  various  institutions  are  developed, 
which  help  to  determine  each  era  of  city  government  both  in 
respect  of  buildings  and  of  civic  policy. 

XXIII.  The  conflict  and  interaction  between  temporal  and 
spiritual  ideals  in  the  history  of  western  Europe  during  the 
Christian  period  is,  of  course,  one  of  the  commonplaces  of  social 
discussion.  But  the  detailed  influences  and  reactions,  especially 
on  city  development,  of  the  respective  ideals  of  the  law  and  the 


752  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

gospel,  have  not  been  sufficiently  worked  out.  The  system  of 
feudal  law,  which  still  incrusts  occidental  civilization,  has  its 
animating  principle  in  the  mediaeval  maxim,  Nul  terre  sans 
seigneur,  which  might  be  conveniently  translated  as,  in  the  social 
sense,  "No  spot  without  its  despot,"  and  in  the  civil  sense,  "No 
foot  of  soil  without  its  functionary."  The  contrast  of  these 
ideals  with  that  of  Christian  ethics — "the  kingdom  of  God  is 
within  you" — is  sufficiently  obvious.  But  what  the  student  of 
city  development  has  to  do  is  to  trace  the  expression  and  inter- 
action of  these  conflicting  ideals  in  each  successive  phase  of  civic 
architecture  and  civic  policy.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  the  case  of 
London,  the  sociologist  is  to  see  how  the  Tower  and  Windsor 
Castle  are  the  expression  and  embodiment  of  certain  political 
ideals,  and  he  is  to  trace  throughout  the  history  of  London  the 
influences  and  ramifications  of  the  Tower  and  the  castle  and 
follow  their  line  of  direct  descent  down  to  the  existing  institu- 
tions which  are  their  heir,  and  their  functional  analogue — these 
presumably  being  the  contemporary  functionary  factories  of 
Whitehall.  In  the  same  way,  he  is  to  see  how  Westminster 
Abbey  and  St.  Paul's  are  the  culminating  expression  and  em- 
bodiment of  certain  spiritual  ideals;  and  their  influence  and 
reaction  on  civic  life  and  architecture  are  likewise  also  to  be 
traced  through  successive  stages  of  city  development;  and  the 
analogous  types  of  institutions  today  have  to  be  discovered  and 
described  alike  in  their  structural  and  functional  aspects.  And 
every  city  has  for  the  sociologist  its  corresponding  problems  of 
factual  observation,  of  historical  analysis,  and  of  scientific  inter- 
pretation. All  these  again,  to  be  sure,  assume  their  place  as 
specialist  researches  within  the  larger  problems  of  general 
sociology. 

Now,  if  we  apply  the  fourfold  sociological  formulae  above  in- 
dicated to  the  present  and  future  phases  of  science  considered 
as  a  spiritual  power,  what  inferences  may  we  legitimately  draw? 
The  existing  groups  of  science,  whether  or  not  organized  in 
definite  societies,  are  comparable,  we  have  seen,  to  the  various 
sects  of  the  religious  community.  Now,  these  numerous  and 
various  sects,  like  their  more  archaic  religious  types,  have  their 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  753 

rivalries,  jealousies,  feuds,  and  bickerings.  The  mathematicians, 
for  instance,  are  apt  to  form  an  exclusive  caste  apart,  holding 
no  converse  with  groups  which  know  not  their  particular  shib- 
boleths. Again,  the  spectacle  might  have  been  seen,  at  a  recent 
meeting  of  the  British  Association,  of  rival  biological  factions 
warmly  anathematizing  each  other.  A  momentous  and  historic 
instance  of  scientific  sectionalism  is  seen  in  the  work  now  in 
progress,  which  is  probably  the  largest  co-operative  enterprise 
yet  undertaken  by  modem  scientists.  A  few  years  ago  the 
Royal  Society  convened  in  London  a  great  gathering — a  sort  of 
Council  of  Trent — of  scientific  fathers,  representing  all  the 
leading  academies  and  societies  of  Europe  and  America.  The 
purpose  of  this  great  gathering  was  to  decide  upon  an  authorized 
canon  of  the  sacred  texts.  A  momentous  decision  was  reached. 
It  was  concluded  that  a  sufficient  degree  of  traditional  sanctity 
did  not  attach  to  the  writings  of  the  economists,  the  psychologists, 
the  sociologists,  and  some  other  orders.  The  writings  of  these 
were  accordingly  omitted  from  that  authorized  canon,  which  is 
now  in  course  of  actual  compilation  under  the  title  of  The  Inter- 
national Catalogue  of  Scientific  Papers.  It  is  clear  from 
these  evidences  of  internal  disruptiveness  that  science,  as  a 
whole,  does  not  at  the  present  moment  possess  that  cohesiveness 
and  unity  of  aim  which  are  vital  to  a  period  of  demiurgic 
spiritual  effort. 

XXIV.  On  the  evidence  of  internal  disint^ration  one  would 
infer  that  science  has  either  passed,  or  has  not  yet  reached,  its 
constructive  synthetic  era.  But  are  there  not  signs  around 
us  which  point  to  a  coming  and  then  incipient  period,  in  which 
science  will  develop  its  doctrine  of  human  life  as  a  great  spiritual 
power?  The  clearest  notes  in  this  scientific  chord  which  is  be- 
ginning to  sound  are  perhaps  the  geographical  and  the  biological 
ones. 

We  have  seen  how  the  geographer,  no  longer  merely  in- 
terpreting the  present  by  the  aid  of  the  past,  is  beginning  to 
have  visions  of  the  future.  In  seeing  the  city  as  the  realization 
of  regional  potencies,  he  cannot  but  feel  also  an  ideal  impulse 
toward  organizing  the  city  as  an  optimum  adaptation  of  the 


754  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

regional  environment  to  human  life.  The  geographer's  social 
ideal  is,  indeed,  in  process  of  explicit  formulation,  and  that  on 
many  sides.  And  in  its  application  to  a  particular  city,  the  most 
notable  perhaps  of  these  formulations  may  be  found  in  one  of 
the  books  indicated  for  reading  in  connection  with  this  paper.  It 
is  Professor  Geddes'  City  Development.  Here,  indeed,  the  ideal 
of  city  development  is  by  no  means  confined  to  that  of  the 
geographer,  but  the  civic  policy  there  enunciated  has  its  definite 
starting-point  in  the  geographer's  vision  of  the  city.  And  other 
similar  initiatives  are  visible  in  many  different  directions.  The 
Garden  City  movement  is  essentially  geographical  in  its  point  of 
departure  from  traditional  civic  policies.  And  the  same  may  be 
said  of  Mr.  H.  G.  Wells's  Civic  Utopia,  and  indeed  of  all  those 
utopist  writings  in  which  the  biological  note  is  also  sounded 
which  advocate  a  certain  ruralization  of  the  city,  whether  by  the 
development  of  parks  and  gardens,  or  by  other  means.  However 
much  all  these  differ  from  one  another  in  other  points,  they  agree 
in  their  emphasis  and  insistence  on  a  better  regional  adaptation 
to  city  life.  It  is  clear,  in  fact,  that  we  are  here  in  the  presence 
of  a  movement  toward  an  applied  geography.  The  division  of 
science  into  pure  and  applied  is  a  familiar  one  up  to  a  certain 
point,  but  it  should  help  us  to  realize  its  significance,  if  we  under- 
stand it  as  comparable  to  the  distinction  between  the  regular  and 
secular  orders  in  religious  communities.  Like  the  regular 
orders,  the  cultivators  of  pure  science  concern  themselves  mainly 
with  doctrine ;  while  the  applied  scientists,  like  the  secular  orders, 
have  their  main  interest  in  the  application  of  doctrine  to  the 
needs  of  daily  life. 

XXV.  Among  existing  groups  of  scientists,  which  are  the 
seculars,  which  the  regulars?  In  the  physical  sciences  it  is  easy 
to  recognize  actual  or  incipient  regular  orders  in  mathema- 
ticians, in  students  of  heat,  light,  electricity,  chemistry,  etc.  On 
the  practical  side  there  is  the  great  body  of  engineers,  with  its 
numerous  subdivisions;  there  are  manufacturing  chemists,  the 
brewers,  the  opticians,  etc.  Are  these  the  secular  orders  in  the 
physical  group?  Before  answering  that  question,  we  must  dis-- 
criminate.     The  differences  of  type  are  very  great.     It  is,  for 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  755 

instance,  a  far  cry  from  the  stoker,  or  even  the  driver,  of  a  coal 
engine  at  the  one  end  of  the  scale,  to,  at  the  other,  the  active 
partner  in  the  firm  of  White  &  Co.,  electricians  and  instrument- 
makers;  for  the  active  partner  in  that  firm  is,  or  was.  Lord 
Kelvin.  It  will  be  urged  that  Lord  Kelvin  as  instrument-maker 
and  electrical  engineer  is  merged  and  sunk  in  Lord  Kelvin  the 
professor,  the  investigator,  the  theorist.  But  the  opposite 
interpretation  would  be  equally  true,  and  equally  false.  The 
essential  point  is  to  see  that  it  is  the  very  coincidence  and 
alternation  of  theory  and  practice,  of  science  and  art,  of  thought 
and  action,  that  above  all  differentiates  and  marks  off  the  secu- 
lars of  science  from  those  of  other  varieties  of  spiritual  power. 
And,  applying  this  distinction,  we  readily  recognize  that  the 
great  majority  of  engineering  occupations  do  not  really  belong 
to  science  at  all,  in  the  proper  sense,  but  are  persistent  survivals 
af  a  pre-scientific  age.  The  empirical  rule-of-thumb  types  of 
engineer  are  still  predominant,  but  they  essentially  belong  to  a 
pre-scientific  order  that  has  been  well  called  paleo-technic.  They 
do  not  possess  the  physicist's  vision  of  the  world;  still  less, 
therefore,  do  they  seek  to  apply  it  to  life.  The  physical  scientist 
in  his  cosmic  mood  sees  the  world  as  an  automatic  system  of 
energies,  with  a  tendency  to  run  down,  and  without  a  discover- 
able means  of  winding  it  up  again,  while  as  to  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  its  being  originally  set  going  the  data  of  his  science 
give  him  no  clue.  Looking  at  the  same  phenomena  in  his  human- 
ist mood,  he  sees  the  flux  and  transformation  of  forces  take  on 
and  assume  a  definite  design  and  purpose,  which  the  very  Ic^ic  of 
his  science  compels  him  to  postulate  as  an  inherent  potency  in  the 
very  system  of  energies.  He  sees  every  form  of  energy  a  poten- 
tial slave  of  man.  He  sees  the  cities  scattered  over  the  face  of 
the  globe,  as  the  supreme,  the  collective,  the  ceaseless  effort  of 
the  race  to  realize  this  potency  of  energy,  to  harness  it  in  the 
service  of  man.  The  type  of  physical  scientist  in  whom  the  cos- 
mic mood  is  habitual  and  dominant  is  the  actual  or  incipient 
regular.  But  where  the  grand  and  inspiring  ideal  of  realizing 
for  man  the  potency  of  world-energies  animates  the  physical 
scientist,  there  clearly  we  have  the  possibility  of  great  secular 


756  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

orders.  And  that  such  orders  are  everywhere  incipient  and 
rapidly  developing,  there  are  many  evidences  to  show.  These 
evidences  are  vividly  depicted  in  the  sociological  writings  of  Mr. 
H.  G.  Wells,  who  more  than  anyone  else,  perhaps,  in  the  English- 
speaking  world  has  seen,  or  at  least  expressed  for  us  in  literature, 
the  incipient  changes  in  city  development  which  are  being 
effected  by  these  new  secular  orders  of  applied  physical  science. 

The  new  type  of  engineer  is  tending  more  and  more  to 
assume  control  of  the  communications  of  our  cities,  their  facto- 
ries and  workshops,  the  great  public  works  of  water  supply, 
lighting,  drainage,  etc.  And  thus  gradually  determining  for  us 
the  material  conditions  of  life,  the  new  engineer  acquires  social 
status  and  prestige.  And,  in  pursuance  of  the  well-known  socicv- 
logical  law  that  those  who  have  social  power  tend  also  to  get  civil 
and  political  power,  we  are  bound  to  assume  that  the  engineer 
types,  as  they  are  already  tending  to  control  civic  policy,  will 
sooner  or  later  seek  to  control  national  and  even  world-policy. 
Tliat  these  higher  aspirations  are  already  well  on  the  way  toward 
achievement  is  seen  in  the  influence  now  being  exercised  by  the 
railway  kings  of  America,  not  only  in  their  own  country,  but 
also  in  world-politics.  With  the  advantages  brought  about  by 
the  activities  of  these  new  secular  orders,  there  are,  of  course, 
corresponding  disadvantages.  The  conception  of  a  city  held  by 
the  railway  engineer  is,  we  have  already  seen,  not  that  of  a  city 
at  all,  but  that  of  a  town.  And  this  limitation  applies  through- 
out the  whole  sphere  of  thought  and  action  belonging  to  this 
phase  of  life.  It  manifests  itself  even  in  Mr.  Wells's  utopist  pic- 
tures of  the  cities  of  the  future,  for  in  these  idealist  cities  is  it 
not  the  case  that  the  inhabitants,  notwithstanding  their  manifold 
cultural  activities,  have  still  their  main  interests  in  the  material 
aspects  and  conditions  of  things  ?  Are  they  not,  in  fact,  towns- 
men first,  and  citizens  only  thereafter? 

XXVI.  If  the  foregoing  criticism  is  a  just  one,  the  cause  of 
the  limitation  is  doubtless  to  be  sought  in  some  arrestment  of 
normal  scientific  development.  The  physical  scientist  who  re- 
mains such  falls  a  long  way  short  of  repeating  and  resuming  his 
normal  racial  development.     For  above  and  beyond  the  physical 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  757 

group  of  sciences,  the  race  has  conquered,  or  is  conquering,  for 
science  higher  domains.  Immediately  above  the  physical  sciences 
is  the  biological  group.  Here,  who  are  the  regulars  and  who  are 
the  seculars?  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  the  regular  type  in 
anatomist  and  taxonomist,  in  physiologist  and  ecologist,  in  em- 
bryologist  and  paleontologist,  in  ontogonist  and  phylogonist 
These,  or  some  of  them,  are  doubtless  strange  names,  unfamiliar 
to  the  public,  even  to  that  small  section  of  the  public  which  en- 
joys a  classical  culture.  But  the  groups  of  scientists  thus 
characterized  nevertheless  exist,  and  that,  moreover,  in  growing 
numbers  and  influence,  all  over  the  western  world.  They  are 
organized  into  bodies  which  are  essentially  regular  orders  of  an 
incipient  spiritual  power;  and  as  such  they  are  silently  preparing 
a  great  moral  revolution.  Where  are  we  to  look  for  the  secular 
orders  that  will  be  their  active  instruments  of  temporal  change? 
The  occupations  concerned  with  the  biological  or  organic  side  of 
civilization  are,  of  course,  those  of  peasant  and  farmer,  of  gar- 
dener and  stock-raiser,  along  with  medical  doctors  and  surgeons, 
not  to  mention  the  herbalists  and  the  nurses,  the  barbers  and  the 
hairdressers,  the  gymnasts,  and  all  the  lower  and  older  groups 
of  occupations,  from  and  through  which  the  medical  profession 
has  risen  to  its  present  summit.  Which  among  all  these  are  the 
secular  orders  of  science,  and  which  the  empirical  survivals  of  a 
pre-scientific  age?  To  answer  that,  we  must  first  ask  what  is 
the  special  vision  of  the  world  which  animates  the  biologist; 
and,  further,  we  must  ask  what  militant  groups  are  there  which 
this  vision  stimulates  into  practical  activity.  The  biologist,  like 
other  scientists,  has  his  cosmic  and  his  humanist  mood.  In  the 
former  he  sees  an  endless  chain  of  developing  life,  beginning  he 
knows  not  how  or  why,  and  tending  he  knows  not  whither.  In 
his  humanist  mood,  he  sees  the  same  unbroken  chain  that  links 
together  the  whole  series  of  organic  beings;  but  now  sees  in  it 
evidence  at  every  point,  from  lowest  to  highest,  of  a  promise  and 
a  potency  of  a  supreme  culmination.  And  in  the  most  beautiful 
and  noblest  of  human  beings  he  sees  a  norm  which,  by  taking 
thought,  the  whole  race  may  reach  and  surpass.  To  the  biologist 
the  city  is  thus  no  mass  of  mere  inorganic  structures,  but  a  group 


758  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  organic  beings,  which  individually  passes  away,  but  racially 
abides,  continues,  and  develops  toward  a  definite  ideal,  or  degen- 
erates to  its  opposite.  The  ideal  of  the  city  is  therefore  to  the 
biologist  the  full  realization  of  racial  potency.  Who  among 
biologists  are  stimulated  into  activity  by  this  vision  of  civic 
potency?  Increasingly  large  numbers  of  the  medical  profession 
are  animated  by  the  ambition  of  preventing  rather  than  curing 
diseases.  The  noblest  instances  of  missionary  enterprise  are 
paralleled  by  the  self-sacrificing  adventures  and  exploits  which 
daily  engage  the  lives  of  the  enthusiasts  of  the  newer  medicine. 
The  missions  that  go  out  from  the  Pasteur  Institute  in  Paris  to 
study,  say,  typhoid  fever  in  Brazil,  or  from  the  Institute  of 
Tropical  Medicine  in  Liverpool  to  investigate,  say,  yellow  fever 
in  New  Orleans,  are  merely  conspicuous  instances  of  a  heroic 
activity  that  is  normal  in  that  increasing  wing  of  the  medical 
profession  beginning  to  be  called  the  hygienists.  Of  these  many 
are  already  organized  into  large  and  well-established  secular 
orders,  such  as  the  various  institutes  of  public  health,  sanitation, 
etc.,  to  be  found  in  every  large  city.  Others  less  directly,  but 
still  more  vitally,  are  beginning  to  influence  both  civic  and 
national  policy  through  great  institutions  of  the  more  regular 
type  of  order,  such  as  the  Pasteur  Institute,  and  similar  organiza- 
tions incipient  elsewhere. 

XXVII.  A  new  secular  order  of  biologists  is  beginning-  to 
appear  in  the  eugenists,  who  seek  to  develop  and  apply  Mr. 
Francis  Galton's  doctrine  of  eugenics.  It  belongs  to  this  doc- 
trine to  rescue  the  "perfect  man"  from  the  lumber  of  archaic 
survivals,  and  restore  it,  not  as  an  idol  of  a  golden  past,  but  as 
a  legitimate  ideal  of  the  future.  Taken  over  from  theology  by 
political  philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  idea  of  the 
fall  of  man  from  a  state  of  primordial  perfection  became  a  power- 
ful solvent  of  economic  and  political  institutions.  An  abortive 
and  premature  attempt  was  then  made  by  early  biologists  and 
sociologists  to  use  the  doctrine  as  a  constructive  ideal,  by  trans- 
forming it  into  the  conception  of  a  future  perfectibility  of 
type.  But  in  the  generation  which  witnessed  the  classic  demon- 
stration   of    organic    evolution    by    Spencer    and    Darwin,    by 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  759 

Haeckel,  Wallace,  and  GaJton,  the  very  idea  of  perfectibility 
was  discredited.  Nevertheless,  the  language  of  the  fall  per- 
sisted, and  of  necessity  had  its  unconscious  influence  on  thought. 
It  was  therefore  quite  natural,  if  not  inevitable,  that  the  place  of 
man  in  the  animal  series  should  be  worked  out  in  terms  of 
descent  and  not  ascent.  But  the  idea  of  potency  latent  in  organic 
evolution  was  bound  to  manifest  itself. 

It  was  Francis  Galton  who  first,  and  most  fully,  made  the 
change  from  the  cosmic  and  naturalist  to  the  humanist  and 
idealist  mood  in  organic  evolution.  His  doctrine  of  eugenics 
shifts  the  center  of  interest  in  man's  pedigree  from  the  past  to 
the  future.  Actually  and  in  point  of  fact  the  worst-bred  of 
animals,  man  has  become  so  because  he  of  all  animals  has  the 
highest  potency  for  degeneration  or  for  evolution.  That  is  one 
of  the  truths  revealed  to  us  by  evolutionary  biology.  The  other 
is  the  legitimacy  of  aspiration  toward  a  future  ideal.  But  the 
ideal  of  evolutionary  biology  markedly  differs  from  its  pre- 
scientific  anticipations.  It  is  an  ideal  definable  as  starting  from  a 
known  potency,  and  approximately  realizable  within  finite  space 
and  time,  and  to  be  reached  by  ascertainable  processes,  operating 
within  discoverable  limits.  In  short,  the  ideal  of  eugenics  has 
the  scientific  character  of  being  a  verifiable  ideal,  and  not  an 
illusory  one.  It  postulates  an  ideal  type,  toward  which  we  can 
definitely  steer,  and  certainly  move,  with  assured  hope  of  approxi- 
mately, but  never  actually,  reaching  it.  For  the  ideal  itself 
undergoes  evolution,  the  very  increase  of  evolutionary  potencies 
and  processes  being  itself  the  warrant  of  higher  aspirations. 
Mathematicians  express  the  relation  of  two  paths  always 
converging,  but  never  meeting,  by  the  word  "asymptotic." 
Originating  outside  the  systems  of  professed  philosophers,  evolu- 
tionary idealism  has  yet  its  necessary  relations  to  traditional 
doctrines  of  idealism  and  realism.  Its  place  and  correlation  with 
these  have  yet  to  be  worked  out  and  defined.  But  meantime  it 
may  help  toward  establishing  a  point  of  contact  with  existing 
systems  of  philosophy  to  say  that  evolutionary  ideals  express  an 
asymptotic  reality. 

XXVIII.     The  favorite  recourse  of  the  ill-informed  mem- 


760  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

bers  of  a  community,  to  escape  the  penalties  of  nescience,  is  to 
normalize  their  own  defects  and  to  postulate  a  universal 
ignorance.  This  protective  device  of  the  cunning  animal  is 
nowhere  more  frequent  than  in  discussions  of  the  problem  of 
heredity.  It  is  frequently  asserted  that  we  know  nothing  at  all 
of  heredity  with  precision  and  certainty.  It  is  quite  true  that 
the  biologists  and  psychologists  have  a  great  deal  still  to  learn 
about  heredity.  But  it  is  equally  true  that  they  have  a  great 
deal  to  teach.  And  the  citizen  as  well  as  the  student  can  escape 
the  charge  of  hopeless  obscurantism  only  by  promptly  putting 
himself  to  this  school.  One  of  the  first  things  he  will  learn  is  the 
deep  significance  and  the  practical  importance  of  the  distinction 
between  what  is  called  organic  inheritance  and  what  is  called 
social  inheritance.  The  former  is  concerned  with  the  heritage 
that  comes  to  us  in  organic  descent  from  our  family  stock,  i.e., 
the  prenatal  influences  which  condition  our  life.  The  latter  is 
concerned  with  the  qualities  and  aptitudes  that  come  to  us 
through  training  and  education,  through  tradition  and  experience; 
in  a  word  through  the  potential,  and  therefore  social,  influences 
that  condition  our  life.  Small  or  great  as  may  be  the  ordered 
and  verified  knowledge  accumulated  by  the  students  of  organic 
inheritance,  there  can  be  no  question  of  the  mere  massiveness 
and  quantity  of  our  knowledge  of  social  inheritance  and  social 
variation — in  a  word,  of  social  evolution.  Where  is  all  the 
knowledge  to  be  found?  Who  are  its  guardians  and  continu- 
ators?  Are  they  not  called  historians  and  economists,  political 
philosophers  and  comparative  jurists,  anthropologists  and  folk- 
lorists,  psychologists  and  aestheticists,  students  of  ethics  and  of 
comparative  religion?  Are  not  all  the  foregoing  of  the  nature 
of  regular  orders  engaged  in  studying  the  various  aspects 
of  our  social  heritage  of  industry  and  commerce,  of  law  and 
morals,  of  religion  and  art,  of  language  and  literature,  of  science 
and  philosophy?  But  the  question  for  us  is:  Are  these  the 
regulars  of  social  science?  If  they  are  not,  who  and  where 
are  the  regulars  of  social  science?  who  and  where  the  seculars? 
Occupied  on  the  practical  side  of  our  social  life  are  the 
merchants  and  the  manufacturers,  the  politicians  and  the  law- 
yers, the  journalists  and  orators,  the  artists  and  literary  men. 


SCIENCE  AND  CITIZENSHIP  761 

the  teachers  and  professors,  the  moralists  and  priests.  Which 
among  all  these  are  the  seculars  of  social  science?  which  the  per- 
sistent survivals  of  the  pre-scientific  age? 

XXIX.  To  answer  these  questions,  we  must  ask:  What 
vision  is  seen  by  psychologist  and  sociologist  in  their  cosmic  or 
naturalist  mood,  and  what  in  their  humanist  mood?  What  po- 
tencies do  they  see  in  social  evolution,  in  city  development? 
What  groups,  if  any,  of  more  militant  type  are  inspired  by  these 
visions  of  social  potency,  to  work  toward  the  realization  of  the 
corresponding  ideals?  In  reply,  little  can  be  said  at  the  close 
of  an  already  prolonged  paper.  The  sociolc^st  in  his  naturalist 
mood  sees  the  city  as  successive  strata  of  wreckage  and  survivals 
of  past  phases  in  the  endlessly  changing  antics  of  a  building  and 
hibernating  mammalian  species.  In  his  humanist  mood  he  sees 
— somewhat  dimly,  it  must  be  confessed — ^the  city,  as  the 
culminating  and  continuous  effort  of  the  race  to  determine  the 
mastery  of  its  fate,  to  achieve  a  spiritual  theater  for  the  free 
play  of  the  highest  racial  ideals.  In  short,  the  cities  of  the 
world  are  in  this  view  but  processes  of  realizing  the  spiritual 
potency  of  the  human  race.  They  are  the  true  homes  of 
humanity.  And  it  is  just  here,  where  science — whose  mission  it 
is  to  fulfil,  and  not  to  destroy — reveals  to  us  the  germ  of  truth 
in  the  popular  sentiment,  which  insists  that  the  essential  char- 
acteristic of  the  city  resides  in  the  university  and  the  cathedral. 
The  truth,  to  be  sure,  is  that  it  is  the  presence  of  functional 
institutions  of  the  highest  spiritual  type,  whether  or  not  we  call 
them  university  and  cathedral,  that  differentiates  the  city  from 
the  town.  It  follows  that  the  civic  policy  of  our  secular 
sociologists — if  we  have  any — must  be  concerned  with  the  city 
as  itself  a  cultural  potency,  and  with  the  whole  body  of  citizens 
as  individuals  responsive  to  the  creative  influences  of  the  spir- 
itual ideals,  active  or  latent  in  drama  and  poetry,  in  art  and 
music,  in  history  and  science,  in  philosophy  and  religion.  The 
most  comprehensive  abstract  and  general  statement  of  culture 
policy  from  the  socioJc^ical  standpoint  still  probably  remains 
that  made  more  than  half  a  century  aigo  by  Comte  in  the  Positive 
Polity — which  was  really  the  Utopia  of  his  later  thought, 
educated  and  matured  by  the  preliminary  preparation  of  the 


762  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Positive  Philosophy.  Fortunately,  the  four  massive  volumes  of 
his  Positive  Polity  were  condensed  and  summarized  by  Comte 
himself,  and  the  contentious  elements  for  the  most  part  omitted, 
in  the  single  small  and  cheap  volume  translated  by  Dr.  Bridges,  as 
a  General  View  of  Positivism.  Ranking  with  Comte's  statement 
of  culture  policy  in  its  comprehensiveness  of  outlook  and  far- 
sighted  vision,  but  written  from  the  standpoint  of  contemporary 
science,  and  therefore  appropriately  detailed  and  concrete  in 
reference,  here  and  now,  in  plan  and  section  and  perspective,  to 
a  particular  city,  is  Professor  Geddes'  recent  book  City  Develop- 
ment, already  cited  for  its  geographical  vision,  and  now  for  its 
sociological  ideals.  These  two  books,  from  their  different  but 
correlated  standpoints,  express  a  doctrine  whose  isolated  ele- 
ments are  everywhere  recognizable.  It  is  evident,  therefore, 
that  the  life  out  of  which  the  doctrine  is  fermenting  is  in  active 
growth.  If,  then,  they  are  not  already  here,  we  may  be  sure  the 
sociological  friars  are  coming, 

LIST  OF  BOOKS  FOR  READING  AND  REFERENCE 
I 

1.  Charles  Booth.    Life  and  Labor  of  People  in  London.     (Macmillan.) 

2.  Seebohm  Rowntree.    Poverty.     (Macmillan.) 

3.  T.  R.  Marr.  Housing  Conditions  of  Manchester  and  Sal  ford.  (Man- 
chester.) 

4.  T.  C.  Horsfall.  The  Example  of  Germany.  (Manchester  University 
Press.) 

n 

1.  H.  G.  Wells.    Anticipation. 

2.  H.  G.  Wells.    Mankind  in  the  Making. 

3.  H.  G.  Wells.    A  Modern  Utopia. 

4.  Ebenezer  Howard.     Tomorrow:  ,A  Scheme  of  Gardetk  Cities. 

5.  Patrick  Geddes.     City  Development.     (St.  George  Press,  Boumville.) 

Ill 
I.  A.  Comte.     General   View  of  Positivism.     (Reeves  &   Turner.)     Trans- 
lated by  Dr.  Bridges. 

IV.   PERIODICALS 

1.  La  science  sociale.    Edited  by  E.  DemoHns. 

2.  Sociological  Papers,  published  annually  by  Macmillan  for  the  Sociological 
Society,  5  Old  Queen  Street,  Westminster,  S.  W.  (  Fide  especially  Vols. 
I  and  II,  articles  on  eugenics  by  Mr.  Francis  Galton,  and  on  civics  by 
Professor  Geddes.) 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA 


AMOS  W.  BUTLER 
Secretary  Board  of  State  Charities,  Indianapolis 


The  Board  of  State  Charities  of  Indiana  was  org^ized  in 
1889,  and  one  of  its  first  undertakings,  in  conformity  to  the 
statutory  instruction  to  "investigate  the  whole  system  of  pubHc 
charities,"^  was  an  effort  to  obtain  data  relating  to  the  relief  of 
the  poor  by  township  trustees. 

Then,  as  now,  the  ninety-two  counties  of  the  state  were 
divided  into  townships,  of  which  there  were  1,016  in  all.^  The 
chief  official  of  each,  outside  cities  and  incorporated  towns,  is  the 
township  trustee.  In  addition  to  his  duties  in  connection  with 
the  roads,  ditches,  schools,  and  elections  of  his  township,  he 
serves  as  overseer  of  the  poor,  ex  officio,  and  as  such  his  authority 
extends  over  all  the  township,  including  cities  and  towns.  Those 
in  need  of  assistance  from  the  public  treasury  look  to  him  for 
relief. 

In  the  administration  of  the  poor-funds  of  the  townships  the 
trustees  were  acting  under  a  law  which  was  approved  June  9, 
1852,  and  became  operative  May  6,  1853.^  This  gave  them  the 
oversight  of  all  poor  persons  in  their  respective  townships,  and 
required  them  to  see  that  those  in  need  were  properly  cared  for. 
What  was  proper  care  was  left  entirely  to  the  judgment  of  the 
trustees,  and  according  to  their  decision  some  were  sent  to  the 
county  poor  asylum,  some  were  granted  aid  in  their  own  homes, 
some  were  given  transportation  to  the  next  township.  The  bills 
were  presented  to  the  board  of  county  commissioners,  and  as  a 
rule  paid  without  question.  There  was  practically  no  supervision 
of  any  kind. 

*  Law  creating  Board  of  State  Charities,  Acts  of  1889,  chap.  37,  p.  51. 
'  The  number  of  townships  varies  occasionally,  as  a  new  township  is  formed 
or  two  old  ones  are  combined. 

'Revised  Statutes,  1881,  chap.  95. 

763 


764  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  boards  of  county  commissioners  were  also  permitted, 
in  their  discretion,  to  make  annual  allowances,  "not  exceeding  the 
cost  of  their  maintenance  in  the  ordinary  mode,"  to  persons  of 
mature  years  and  sound  mind,  and  to  the  parents  of  idiots  and  of 
children  otherwise  helpless,  if  the  parents  were  unable  to  provide 
proper  care.  In  addition  to  this,  the  employment  of  physicians 
to  give  medical  treatment  to  the  poor,  including  those  in  the 
county  charitable  and  correctional  institutions,  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  county  commissioners. 

As  was  to  be  expected,  a  very  serious  abuse  had  grown  up 
under  this  system.  The  trustee's  office  was  filled  by  popular 
election.  He  came  to  the  work  untrained,  inexperienced.  Other 
duties  of  the  office  were  pressing.  He  was  poorly  paid  and  with- 
out assistance,  as  a  rule,  in  carrying  on  the  work.  It  was  easier 
to  give  applicants  what  they  wanted  than  to  take  the  time  or 
incur  the  expense  necessary  to  make  a  careful  investigation  into 
their  condition  and  actual  needs.  A  trustee  who  was  inclined  to 
conduct  his  office  in  a  more  business-like  manner  was  often  met 
with  political  pressure,  or  the  importunities  of  friends  or  rela- 
tives of  the  poor.  When  an  applicant  for  aid  failed  to  get  what  he 
wanted  from  the  overseer,  he  applied  to  the  county  commis- 
sioners, frequently  with  success.  Occasionally  there  was  a  delib- 
erate misuse  of  the  public  funds. 

In  addition  to  the  waste  of  money,  another  aspect  of  the 
matter  was  to  be  considered.  In  its  report  for  the  year  1891  the 
Board  of  State  Charities  said: 

Of  all  forms  of  public  charity,  outdoor  relief  is  most  liable  to  abuse  and 
excess.  There  are  very  few  inmates  of  our  county  poor  asylums  who  are 
not  proper  subjects  for  the  county's  charity;  few  persons  will  voluntarily 
choose  a  residence  in  the  asylum,  if  they  are  able  to  live  outside.  But  for  out- 
door relief  there  is  constant  demand  from  many  who  can  get  along  very  well 
without  it,  if  it  is  not  to  be  had.  It  is  not  alone  the  immediate  waste  of 
public  money  that  is  to  be  deplored,  serious  as  that  is;  but  still  more  serious 
are  the  future  consequences  to  be  apprehended  in  the  spread  of  pauperism  and 
the  degradation  of  the  poor,  and  especially  in  the  growing  up  of  a  new 
generation  of  dependents.* 

That  there  was  waste  of  money  was  shown  conclusively  by 

*  Annual  Report,  Board  of  State  Charities,  1891,  p.  114. 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA         765 

reports  from  county  auditors  on  the  expense  of  outdoor  poor- 
relief.  On  November  i,  1889,  the  board  sent  blank  forms  to 
each  trustee  in  the  state,  requesting  information  as  to  the  number 
and  classes  of  persons  receiving  temporary  relief.  Only  about 
one-third  of  the  whole  number  of  trustees  returned  the  blanks, 
and  of  these  less  than  one-half  were  intelligently  filled,  so  that 
the  effort  to  obtain  statistics  from  that  source  was  fruitless.  From 
the  county  auditors,  to  whom  a  different  blank  was  sent  later,  it 
was  learned  that  for  the  year  ending  May  31,  1890,  relief  by  the 
township  trustees  amounted  to  $478,739.91  and  medical  relief  to 
$81,492.74,  a  total  of  $560,232.65.'^  A  portion  of  the  medical 
relief  was  properly  chargeable  to  the  county  institutions ;  still  the 
figures  indicated  more  than  half  a  million  dollars  expended  to 
relieve  the  poor  not  in  institutions. 

In  its  report  for  1891  the  board  published  further  reports 
from  county  auditors,  showing  a  total  of  $560,012.35  for  poor- 
relief  and  medical  aid  for  the  year  ending  May  31,  189 1.®  In 
the  same  report  was  given  a  careful  analysis  of  the  figures,  show- 
ing the  relative  cost  of  outdoor  relief  to  population  in  the  differ- 
ent counties  of  the  state.  According  to  this  table  the  per  capita 
cost  of  aid  to  the  poor  varied  from  5  cents  in  Crawford  County 
to  84  cents  in  Warren  County.  Communities  rich  in  opportunity 
for  self-support  were  shown  to  be  spending  more  money  propor- 
tionately than  much  poorer  counties.  Adjoining  counties,  with 
practically  identical  conditions,  varied  greatly  in  their  expendi- 
tures for  the  poor.  The  conclusion  was  inevitable  that  the 
amount  expended  was  governed  more  by  the  methods  of  the 
trustees  than  by  the  actual  needs  of  the  citizens. 

Statistics  collected  in  1893,  and  published  in  the  board's 
report  for  that  year,  showed  a  decrease  in  the  cost  of  trustees'  and 
medical  relief  from  1891  amounting  to  $48,509,  the  total  expense 
for  the  year  being  $511,503.35.'^  The  same  wide  range  in  the 
per  capita  expense  among  the  different  counties  was  noted.     In 

'Ibid.,   1890,  p.  60. 

*  Ibid.,   1891,  p.   138.     These  figures  were  corrected  in  the  Report  for  1893, 
p.  85,  to  read  $560,265.95. 
^  Ibid.,   1893,  pp.  85,  89. 


766  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

1894  the  county  auditors'  reports  showed  trustees'  and  medical 
rehef  amounting  to  $586,232.27,^  and  in  1895,  to  $630,168.79.* 

In  all  these  years  no  statistics  relating  to  the  use  of  this  great 
sum  could  be  obtained,  other  than  the  actual  amounts  paid  out  in 
the  different  counties.  No  method  of  accounting  was  in  general 
use,  to  show  who  received  the  money  or  why  it  was  given, 
whether  the  money  was  being  spent  dishonestly  or  merely 
unwisely. 

As  a  result  of  its  studies  of  the  situation  the  Board  of  State 
Charities  embodied  in  its  report  for  1894^''  a  recommendation  to 
the  legislature  that  a  law  be  enacted  requiring  overseers  of  the 
poor,  and  all  persons  who  administered  relief  from  public  funds 
to  the  poor  not  inmates  of  charitable  institutions,  to  keep  a  record 
which  should  contain  the  full  name  and  the  age  of  every  person 
to  whom  relief  was  given,  and  the  date  of  giving  relief  in  each 
separate  instance,  together  with  its  kind  and  amount,  a  copy  of 
this  record  to  be  filed  with  the  board  of  county  commissioners, 
who  should  be  prohibited  from  allowing  any  payment  for  the 
expense  of  relief  until  such  record  had  been  filed.  It  was  further 
recommended  that  a  true  copy  of  each  report  of  relief  should  be 
transmitted  to  the  Board  of  State  Charities  as  often  as  once  every 
three  months.  This  recommendation  was  adopted  by  the  legisla- 
ture of  1895  and  enacted  into  law.^* 

Under  this  law  of  1895  the  Board  of  State  Charities  at  once 
began  receiving  reports  of  township  poor-relief.  The  form  used 
by  the  trustees  throughout  the  state  gives  the  name,  age,  sex, 
color,  nationality,  mental  and  physical  condition  of  the  appli- 
cant, together  with  other  facts  concerning  each  individual  who  is 
a  member  of  the  family  aided,  the  cause  for  asking  relief,  the 
date,  character,  and  value  of  the  aid  each  time  relief  is  given,  the 
length  of  time  the  applicant  has  lived  in  the  township,  where  he 
came  from,  the  names  of  relatives,  etc. 

The  twelve  months  ending  August  31,  1896,  comprised  the 

*  Annual  Report,  1894,  P-  90. 

•  Ibid.,   1895,  p.  so. 
^Ibid.,  1894,  p.  7. 
"■Acts  of  1895,  chap.  120. 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA        767 

first  full  year  after  the  law  went  into  effect.  The  statistics  col- 
lated from  the  reports  for  that  period  showed  an  expense  for  out- 
door aid  amounting  to  $355,255.29,  this  being  shared  by  71,414 
persons.  These  and  other  facts  gleaned  from  the  records  filed 
were  published  by  the  board  in  its  1896  report,  and  were  a 
revelation  to  the  people  of  the  state.^*  The  number  reported  as 
receiving  relief  was  equal  to  one  in  every  31  of  the  state's  inhabit- 
ants, according  to  the  census  of  1890.  It  was  found  that  the  pro- 
portion in  the  different  counties  ranged  from  one  in  13  to  one  in 
208.  In  some  of  the  richest  counties  in  the  state  the  number 
reported  as  having  been  aided  from  the  public  funds  was  equal  to 
one  in  16,  one  in  18,  and  one  in  20.  In  one  township  it  was  one 
in  8.  The  same  striking  variation  was  found  in  the  propor- 
tionate number  aided  in  counties  of  similar  conditions  as  had 
previously  been  noted  in  the  per-capita  cost  of  relief. 

Startling  as  was  this  information,  this  first  set  of  reports  was 
not  satisfactory  because  incomplete.  The  trustees  had  not  fully 
understood  what  was  required  of  them ;  no  record  was  filed  with 
the  Board  of  State  Charities  of  the  families  pensioned  by  county 
commissioners ;  practically  no  medical  relief  was  reported.  There- 
fore, though  the  reports  filed  showed  a  total  of  71,414  persons 
aided,  it  could  only  be  said  that  at  least  that  many  received  public 
assistance. 

Shortly  after  this  report  was  made  public,  the  General 
Assembly  of  1897  met,  and  another  reform  measure  was  passed.^' 
It  shifted  to  the  townships  the  burden  of  caring  for  their  own 
poor  not  in  public  institutions.  Prior  to  that  time  all  bills  for 
outdoor  poor-relief  had  been  paid  from  the  county  treasury,  and 
all  the  townships  in  a  county  were  taxed  alike  for  the  expenses 
incurred.  Under  the  new  law  the  auditor  in  each  county  was  re- 
quired to  report  to  the  county  commissioners  on  the  first  day  of 
the  regular  September  term  of  the  board  the  amount  advanced  to 
each  township  during  the  preceding  year  for  poor-relief  and 
medical  attendance,  and  the  trustee  was  required  to  make  a  levy 
against  the  property  in  his  township,  to  reimburse  the  county  for 

"Annual  Report,  Board  of  State  Charities,   1896,  p.  7^- 
"Acts  of  1897,  p.   230. 


768  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  money  paid  out,  the  taxes  to  be  collected  as  other  township 
taxes  were  collected,  and  paid  into  the  county  treasury.  The 
effect  of  this  law  was  to  make  the  trustee  responsible  directly  to 
his  constituency  for  his  management  of  the  poor  funds  of  his 
township. 

The  statistics  gathered  under  the  operation  of  the  new  law 
proved  most  interesting  and  valuable.  In  1898  it  was  found  that 
in  64  of  the  1,014  townships  in  the  state  no  levy  was  required; 
in  515  the  levy  was  under  5  cents,  while  in  435  it  ranged  from  5 
to  30  cents  on  $100.^^  It  is  obvious  that  in  some  of  the  more 
sparsely  settled  communities,  where  land  is  not  valuable,  the  tax 
levy  will  be  higher  than  in  the  more  prosperous  districts.  The 
reports,  however,  brought  out  the  fact  that  some  of  the  highest 
levies  were  made  in  the  richest  townships;  for  example,  Portage 
in  St.  Joseph  County,  containing  the  city  of  South  Bend ;  Troy  in 
Fountain  County,  containing  the  city  of  Covington.  In  many 
of  the  townships  the  levy  found  necessary  was  more  than  double 
the  ordinary  state  levy. 

A  full  report  of  the  conditions  found  to  be  existing  was  made 
by  the  Board  of  State  Charities  in  its  report  for  1898.  Atten- 
tion was  also  called  to  the  facts  gathered  from  the  reports  of 
township  trustees,  which  by  that  time  were  far  more  satisfactory. 
Poor-relief  and  medical  aid  in  1897  amounted  to  $388,343.67^'* 
and  in  1898  to  $375,206.92.^®  The  number  of  persons  aided  in 
1897  was  reported  as  82,235;  in  1898,  75,119. 

The  conditions  were  brought  forcibly  to  the  attention  of  the 
people  of  the  state.  The  more  business-like  trustees,  the  State 
Board  of  Commerce,  and  many  citizens  in  different  parts  of  the 
state  were  becoming  actively  interested.  A  township  trustee,  the 
secretary  of  a  charity-organization  society,  a  former  secretary 
and  the  then  secretary  of  the  Board  of  State  Charities,  formed  a 
committee  to  draft  a  bill  for  presentation  to  the  legislature,  to 
correct  some  of  the  evils.  A  carefully  drawn  bill  was  submitted  to 
the  General  Assembly  of  1899;  ^^  "^^^.s  received  with  favor  and 

^*  Annual  Report,  Board  of  State  Charities,   1898,  p.   no. 
^^*lbid.,  1897,  p.  62. 
^*  Ibid.,   1898,  p.  99. 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA         769 

became  a  law,^'^  and  experts  said  it  was  the  most  advanced  piece 
of  legislation  for  official  poor-relief  on  the  statnte-books  of  any- 
state.  It  was  the  first  instance  of  the  enactment  of  charity- 
organization  principles  into  law  and  of  their  application  to  an 
entire  state.  It  provided  for  the  investigation  of  each  case;  for 
securing  the  help  of  friends  and  relatives  of  the  poor ;  for  giving 
transportation  to  no  one  unless  sick,  aged,  injured,  or  crippled, 
and  then  only  in  the  direction  of  his  legal  residence,  if  he  was 
unable  to  show  that  he  could  be  cared  for  elsewhere ;  for  co-opera- 
tion with  existing  relief  societies;  and  for  a  report  to  the  board 
of  county  commissioners  when  the  aid  given  a  person  or  family 
reached  $15,  or  when  relief,  irrespective  of  the  amount,  extended 
over  a  period  of  three  months,  in  order  that  the  appro\al  of  the 
board  might  be  had  before  additional  relief  was  g^ven. 

A  significant  provision  of  this  law  of  1899  required  that  when- 
ever a  board  of  county  commissioners  desired  to  make  an  allow- 
ance to  poor  persons,  as  permitted  under  the  law  of  1852,  it  could 
do  so  only  by  entering  an  order  requiring  the  overseer  of  the 
poor  to  furnish  the  relief  needed,  and  the  overseer  was  directed 
to  enter  upon  his  record  a  report  of  all  relief  so  furnished.  How- 
ever, there  was  passed,  at  a  later  date  of  the  same  session  of  the 
legislature,  a  "county  reform  act,"*^  one  clause  of  which  pro- 
hibited the  board  of  county  commissioners  granting  relief  to  any 
person  not  an  inmate  of  some  county  institution.  This  was  inter- 
preted in  many  counties  as  not  permitting  the  board  of  commis- 
sioners to  make  to  the  township  trustees  the  advancement  of 
funds  required  by  them  as  overseers  of  the  poor.  Several  local 
courts  ruled  on  the  question,  all  of  them  against  the  contention. 
To  prevent  any  further  misunderstanding,  the  legislature  of  1901 
specifically  made  it  the  duty  of  the  county  council  to  appropriate, 
and  the  board  of  county  commissioners  to  advance,  the  money- 
necessary  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  in  the  several  townships  of 
each  county. 

One  provision  of  the  1899  law,  that  which  limited  the  aid  a 
trustee  might  give  without  the  consent  of  the  county  commis- 
sioners was  quite  generally  misunderstood,  many  trustees  inter- 

^Ibid.,  p.  354.  "Acts  of  1899,  P-  "I. 


77©  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

preting  it  to  mean  that  they  could  not  give  above  $15  to  any  one 
family  or  person  in  the  course  of  a  quarter,  or  in  some  cases  a 
year.  The  result  of  this  and  of  the  clause  rnentioned  above  was 
a  surprising  reduction  in  the  amount  of  aid  given.  From  $320,- 
667.53  in  1899,  it  decreased  to  $209,956.22  in  1900.^^  The  num- 
ber of  persons  reported  as  sharing  in  the  relief  decreased  propor- 
tionately— from  64,468  in  1889  to  43,369  in  1900.  Another  ele- 
ment entered  into  the  reduction  in  1900.  It  was  the  last  year  of 
the  four-year  term  of  the  trustees  then  in  office,  and  many  desired 
to  make  a  record  for  economy.  A  reaction  came  in  later  years, 
some  few  townships  going  to  the  other  extreme  in  the  giving  of 
relief. 

In  1901  a  bill,  indorsed  by  the  Board  of  State  Charities,  was 
]  resented  to  and  passed  by  the  General  Assembly,  codifying  the 
state's  poor-laws.^"  The  good  features  of  the  old  laws  were 
retained,  and  some  important  changes  were  made.  The  clause 
requiring  the  trustees  to  secure  the  consent  of  county  commis- 
sioners before  giving  relief  beyond  a  period  of  three  months  was 
eliminated,  and  the  $1 5  limit  was  made  to  apply  only  to  ordinary 
relief,  exclusive  of  aid  on  account  of  sickness,  burials,  and  sup- 
plies for  school  children.  This  law  is  in  force  at  the  present  time, 
and  is  regarded  as  highly  satisfactory  in  all  parts  of  the  state. 

In  a  summary  of  the  results  achieved  under  this  series  of  re- 
form measures,  the  great  reduction  in  the  amount  of  poor-relief 
is  probably  the  most  striking.  When  the  attention  of  the  Board 
of  State  Charities  was  directed  to  the  subject  in  1890,  the  total 
relief  in  that  year  was  found  to  be  $560,232.65,  as  reported  by 
the  county  auditors.  From  1890  to  1895.  both  inclusive,  the 
amount  paid  out  by  the  overseers  of  the  poor  averaged  more  than 
$550,000  annually.  From  1897  to  1900,  inclusive,  the  first 
four-year  term  after  the  original  reform  laws  were  passed,  the 
annual. average  expenditure  for  poor-relief  was  $323,543.58;  in 
the  next  four-year  term,  $257,613.16.  The  highest  and  the  low- 
est amounts  reported  for  any  one  year  from  1890  to  1905, 
inclusive,  were  $630,168.79  in  1895,  and  $209,956.22  in  1900 — 

^Annual  Report,  Board  of  State  Charities,  1900,  p.  178. 
"Acts  of  1 90 1,  Chapter  147. 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA        771 


MAP    I 


772 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


a  difference  of  $420,212.57.  The  counties  which  had  been  most 
extravagant,  and  which  therefore  contributed  most  largely  to  the 
reduction,  were  found  to  be  St.  Joseph,  Elkhart,  Grant,  Allen, 
Cass,  Bartholomew,  and  Porter.  These  are  among  the  most  popu- 
lous and  the  wealthiest  in  the  state. 

A  means  of  showing  the  reduction  in  the  cost  of  poor-relief 
more  effective  than  a  statement  of  the  amount  by  dollars  and 
cents,  is  the  two  maps,  numbered  i  and  2,  found  herewith,  which 
give  the  relative  cost  to  population  of  the  different  counties.  One 
shows  the  condition  in  1895,  the  last  year  before  the  enactment 
of  the  first  reform  law;  the  other  is  for  1905.  In  1895  the  cost  of 
poor-relief  was  29  cents  to  each  inhabitant  of  the  state.  The 
lowest  per  capitas  were  6  cents  in  Crawford  County,  and  7  cents 
in  Ripley  County.  The  highest  were  68  cents  in  Lagrange,  66 
cents  in  Henry,  and  64  cents  in  St.  Joseph.  In  two  counties  the 
per  capita  was  below  10  cents;  in  thirty-five  it  was  above  30 
cents.  In  1905  the  cost  of  poor-relief  was  10  cents  to  each  in- 
habitant of  the  state.  The  lowest  per  capitas  were  3  cents  each  in 
Washington,  Ripley,  and  Floyd  Counties;  the  highest  were  29 
cents  in  Montgomery  County,  24  in  Wayne,  and  23  in  Morgan. 
In  forty-nine  counties  the  per  capita  was  below  10  cents;  not  a 
single  county  reached  as  high  as  30  cents.  The  difference  between 
these  two  sets  of  figures  is  more  readily  grasped  in  the  following 
tabulated  statement: 


Cost  of  relief  to  each  inhabitant  of  the  state 

Highest  per-capita  cost 

Lowest  per-capita  cost 

Number  of  counties  in  which  the  per-capita  cost  was  below  lo 

cents 

Number  of  counties  in  which  the  per-capita  cost  was  above  30 

cents 


50.10 
0.29 

0.03 

49 


Another  means  of  measuring  the  reduction  in  the  cost  of 
poor-relief  is  afforded  by  the  rate  of  taxation  for  each  $ioo  in 
each  township.  The  following  table  is  self-explanatory  and 
needs  no  comment : 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA         773 


II I       Ml  '  I'l'i  '  I    II       »^ 


MAP 

or 

INDIANA. 


MAP    2 


774 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


Yew 


1898 
1899 
1900 
190I 
1902 
1903 
1904 
1905 


No  Levy 

Under  5  Cents 

64 

515 

50 

607 

146 

644 

154 

620 

181 

611 

233 

617 

224 

649 

289 

5S1 

5  Cents  and 
Over 


435 
357 
226 
240 
223 
165 
144 
146 


No.  of  Town- 
ships 


1,014 
1,014 
1,016 
1,014 

1,015 
1,015 
1,017 

i,oi6 


The  number  of  persons  aided  and  its  relation  to  the  popula- 
tion of  the  state  form  an  equally  interesting  study.  In  former 
years  there  was  no  means  of  collecting  such  statistics,  but  the  law 
of  1895  filled  that  need.  As  mentioned  above,  the  first  set  of 
reports  under  that  law  was  for  1896  and  indicated  a  total  of 
71,414  persons  aided.  Because  of  their  incompleteness,  these 
reports  were  not  satisfactory.  The  number  reported  for  1897 
was  82,235.  This  was  equal  to  3.2  per  cent,  of  the  population 
of  the  state  (2,516,462  by  the  census  of  1900),  or  one  in  every 
thirty-one  inhabitants.  In  1898  the  number  was  reduced  to 
75,119,  and  in  1899  to  64,468.  From  that  year  to  1905,  inclu- 
sive, the  number  helped  annually  averaged  46,561.  In  1905  the 
number  reported  as  receiving  the  aid  given  was  45,331.  This 
was  equal  to  1.8  per  cent,  of  the  population  of  the  state,  or  one 
in  every  fifty-six  inhabitants. 

The  conditions  in  1897  and  in  1905  are  shown  graphically  in 
the  shaded  maps  numbered  3  and  4,  herewith  given.  The 
counties  shaded  black  are  those  in  which  the  number  aided  was 
equal  to  one  in  twenty-nine  or  less  inhabitants  of  the  county. 
Thirty-eight  counties  are  so  shaded  in  the  1897  map;  one.  Mont- 
gomery, in  the  1905  map. 

In  this  connection  it  is  fitting  to  call  attention  to  conditions 
existing  in  the  county  poor  asylums  in  the  state  in  the  years  under 
consideration.  A  census  of  the  inmates  for  August  31,  1891, 
gave  3,253  as  the  number  of  persons  present  on  that  day.  This 
was  equal  to  14.8  in  each  10,000  of  the  state's  population.^^ 
When  the  General  Assembly  of  1899  passed  a  law  restricting  the 

'^Annual  Report,  Board  of  State  Charities,  1 891,  p.  128. 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA         775 


MAP  3 


776  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

amount  of  outdoor  aid  the  township  trustees  might  give,  there 
was  much  real  anxiety  in  different  parts  of  the  state  as  to  the 
adequacy  of  the  county  poor  asylums  to  receive  the  number  who, 
it  was  felt,  would  of  necessity  be  sent  there.  The  poor-asylum 
census  for  August  31,  1899,  was  3,133.^^  In  more  than  one  coun- 
ty the  officials  seriously  contemplated  enlarging  their  asylums  for 
the  care  of  the  expected  additional  applicants,  but  in  every  case 
they  were  advised  by  the  Board  of  State  Charities,  which  ex- 
pected no  such  need  to  arise,  to  wait  for  further  developments.  In 
1900,  under  the  operation  of  the  new  law,  official  outdoor  relief 
dropped  from  $320,667.53  to  $209,956.22,  a  decrease  of  34  per 
cent.  Instead  of  the  expected  increase  in  poor-asylum  population, 
there  was  a  decrease,  both  relative  and  actual.  The  census  for 
August  31,  1900,  showed  3,096  in  those  institutions.^^  From  year 
to  year  as  the  administration  of  outdoor  relief  grew  more  business- 
like, there  was  a  corresponding  decrease  in  the  population  of  the 
county  poor  asylums.  The  number  present  in  such  institutions 
on  August  31,  1905,  was  3,115,  or  12.4  in  every  10,000  of  the 
state's  population.^ ^  The  population  of  the  state,  as  shown  by  the 
United  States  census,  increased  14  per  cent,  from  1890  to  1900. 
The  population  of  the  county  poor  asylums  decreased  4  per  cent, 
from  1891  to  1905.  Had  the  same  proportion  of  inmates  to  state 
population  continued,  the  poor  asylums  at  the  present  time  would 
be  caring  for  650  more  inmates,  and  this  number,  on  the  very 
conservative  estimate  of  $85  annually  per  capita  for  maintenance, 
would  have  meant  an  additional  yearly  expense  of  $55,000. 

These  are  the  tangible  proofs  of  better  conditions  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  poor  funds — the  reduction  in  the  cost  of  relief, 
in  the  number  of  persons  receiving  aid,  and  in  the  population  of 
the  county  poor  asylums.  But  there  is  abundant  reason  to  believe 
that,  along  with  and  because  of  these  improvements  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  taxpayer,  has  come  a  better  condition  for  the 
poor  themselves.  The  old  system  encouraged  dependence  on  the 
public,  and  the  giving  of  aid  to  one  family  frequently  had  the 
result  of  infecting  the  whole  community  with  the  blight  of  pau- 

"Annual  Report,  1899,  p.  51.  *^  Ibid.,  1905,  p.  82. 

**  Ibid.,  1900,  p.  78. 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-BELIEF  IN  INDIANA         777 


MAP  4 


778  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

perism.  With  public  support  cut  off,  excq)t  in  cases  of  absolute 
necessity,  the  only  alternative  was  self-support,  and  this 
benefited  both  the  citizen  and  the  state. 

The  administration  of  the  new  law  has  not  been  perfect. 
There  have  been  abuses.  Some  overseers  of  the  poor  have  not 
conformed  to  the  law.  Excessive  amounts  have  been  spent  in 
some  communities.  In  some  counties  the  commissioners  have  not 
given  the  proper  supervision,  and  some  county  attorneys  have 
misinterpreted  the  law.  Yet  there  has  been  an  average  annual 
decrease  of  29,865  in  the  number  who  shared  in  the  relief,  and  of 
$337,192,09  in  the  expenditures;  and,  according  to  the  general 
testimony,  the  poor  in  the  state  have  never  been  looked  after  so 
well  as  since  this  law  went  into  effect. 

The  outlook  for  the  future  is  promising.  The  trustees  now 
in  office  have  made  an  excellent  record  for  the  first  year  of  their 
incumbency.  Within  thirty  days  after  the  close  of  the  year, 
every  report  from  every  overseer  was  on  file  in  the  office  of  the 
Board  of  State  Charities.  The  records  indicate  that  many  have 
made  notable  improvement. 

Since  it  has  been  shown  that  the  persons  deprived  of  their 
weekly  pittance  from  the  trustee's  office  did  not  avail  themselves 
of  the  opportunity  offered  of  public  support  in  the  county  poor 
asylums,  the  question  will  naturally  be  asked:  What  became  of 
them?  It  is  not  known,  positively.  Probably  some  of  them  left 
the  state.  Yet  it  is  not  difficult  to  believe  that  the  majority  re- 
mained in  their  respective  communities,  since  from  one  township 
after  another  comes  the  word  that  able-bodied  men  and  women 
who  have  heretofore  been  supported  almost  wholly  by  the  public 
are,  either  by  their  own  efforts  or  by  the  help  of  relatives,  sup- 
porting themselves.  The  country's  prosperity  in  recent  years  has 
undoubtedly  participated  to  some  extent  in  the  results  achieved 
under  the  reform  laws,  but  not  nearly  to  the  extent  that  some 
would  suppose.  No  one  who  works  among  paupers  fails  soon 
to  learn  that  "good  times"  do  not  greatly  affect  that  class  of 
people.  Real  pauper  families,  such  as  were  being  manufactured 
at  an  alarming  rate  in  Indiana  in  former  years,  depend  upon 
charity,  be  the  times  good  or  bad. 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA        779 

As  a  further  illustration  of  the  fact  that  pauperism  flourishes, 
and  even  grows,  during  times  of  prosperity,  reference  may  be 
had  to  the  address  of  Mr.  J.  Mack  Tanner,  secretary  of  the  Illi- 
nois Board  of  Commissioners  of  Public  Charities,  at  the  State 
Conference  of  Charities  1903.*'' 

One  hundred  and  two  counties  in  Illinois  in  1899  P^'d  out  $760445  in 
outdoor  relief.  The  average  per-capita  cost  to  the  people  of  the  state  was  16 
cents,  varying  from  one-half  mill  in  Edwards  County  to  53  cents  in  Adams 
County.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  sixteen  counties  paying  more  than  double 
the  average  (from  32  to  53  cents)  are  all  in  the  great,  rich  farming  district 
of  Illinois.     Possibly  the  general  prosperity  of  this  section  encourages  the 

poor  to  make  their  home  here That  much  of  our  so-called  charity  is 

responsible  for  the  increase  of  pauperism  does  not  admit  of  a  doubt.  This 
criticism  applies  with  peculiar  force  to  our  present  system  of  out  relief. 
Experience  has  shown  that  the  increase  and  degree  of  indigence  and  misery 
bear  a  close  relation  to  the  assistance  given  to  the  poor  from  public  funds. 
The  plain  intent  of  the  law  is  that  out  relief  shall  be  given  in  emergency 
cases  and  covering  a  brief  period.  By  a  laxity  of  administration,  which  seems 
inseparable  from  the  system,  what  was  intended  as  an  exception  has  become 
the  rule,  until  in  some  of  the  counties  of  this  state  from  40  to  60  per  cent  of  the 

county  revenue  is  thus  expended Statistics  from  the  official  records  of 

Lasalle  County  show  that  for  the  decade  from  1890  to  1900  the  increase  in 
the  expenses  of  out  relief  had  assumed  alarming  proportions,  notably  in  the 
larger  cities  and  towns.  The  annual  expenditure  for  this  purpose  increased 
from  $6,500  in  1890  to  $40,000  in  1896.  The  percentage  of  increase  was  416 
in  Ottawa,  345  in  Lasalle,  668  in  Streator,  and  270  in  Peru.  It  was  also  found 
that  the  supervisors  of  several  of  these  towns  were  paying  out  more  for  out 
relief  alone  than  the  total  amount  of  their  county  taxes  for  all  purposes,  leav- 
ing the  rural  towns  to  support  all  the  other  county  institutions. 

The  point  may  be  raised  that  the  cutting-off  of  so  large  an 
amount  of  public  aid  would  create  a  demand  for  private  charity. 
If  such  had  been  the  case,  it  is  felt  that  information  to  that  effect 
would  have  been  received  from  the  different  charity-organization 
societies,  of  which  there  are  several  in  the  smaller  cities  of  the 
state.  No  such  reports  have  been  received,  and  it  is  believed 
that  no  notable  increase  of  aid  from  private  sources  followed  the 
remarkable  reduction  in  public  aid  above  noted. 

The  results  achieved  under  the  operation  of  these  laws  may 
be  summarized  as  follows: 

'^  Proceedings,  Illinois  Conference  of  Charities,   1903.  P-  81. 


780  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

1.  A  reducition  of  nearly  50  per  cent,   in  the  number  of 
persons  receiving  public  aid. 

2.  An  average  annual  reduction  of  $337,192.09  in  the  ex- 
penditures on  account  of  official  poor-relief. 

3.  A   general   lessening   in  the   rate  of  taxation   for   poor 
purposes. 

4.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  a  decrease  in  the  population  of 
the  county  poor  asylums. 

5.  Better  and  more  intelligent  care  of  worthy  persons  actually 
in  need  of  help. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY     OF     OFFICIAL     OUTDOOR     RELIEF     IN     INDIANA 

I 890-1 906 
BiCKNELL,    Ernest   P.     Observations   on   Official   Out-Door   Poor   Relief.      Proc. 

Nat.  Con.  Char,  and  Cor.,  1897,  p.  249. 
Bloss,  Johk  M.  Indoor  and  Out-Door  Relief.     Proc.  State  Conf.  Char,  and  Cor., 

1901.     In  Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor,,  June,  1902,  p.  49. 
County  Charities.     Proc.  State  Conf.  Char,  and  Cor.,   1902.     In  Indiana  Bull. 

Char,  and  Cor.,  June  1903,  p.  93. 
Board  of  State  Charities  of  Indiana  : 

Statistics  of  Poor  Relief  for  1890,  Ann.  Rept.,  1890,  Appendix  2,  p.  60. 

The  Out-Door  Paupers,  with  statistics  for  1891,  Ann.  Rept.,  1891,  pp.  113,  138. 

Out- Door  Relief.     Ann.  Rept.,  1892,  p.  63. 

Statistics  of  Poor  Relief  for  1893.     Ann.  Rept.,  1893,  pp.  84,  93. 

Overseers  of  the  Poor,  with  statistics  for  1894.     Ann.  Rept.,  1894,  pp.  81,  90, 

93- 
A  Needed  Poor  Relief  Law — Recommendation  to  the  Legislature.     Ann.   Rept, 

1894,  p.  7. 
Township  Poor  Relief,  with  statistics  for  1895.    Ann.  Rept.,  1895,  pp.  36,  50,  53. 
Poor  Relief  by  Township  Trustees.     Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  Sept.,  1895, 

pp.  6,  16. 
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Poor   Relief  Law   of    1897.  (Township   Taxes.)  Acts  of    1897,   p.   230.  Indiana 

Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  March,   1897,  P-  6- 
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22,  62. 
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Bull.     Char,  and  Cor.,  March,  1899,  p.  6. 
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township  reform  laws  and  township  poor-relief  law  of   1899.     Indiana  Bull. 

Char,  and  Cor.,  March,  1899,  P-  4- 
Form  of  Statement  to  Commissioners,  required  by  law  of  1899.     Indiana  Bull. 

Char,  and  Cor.,  June,  1899,  p.  6. 


i 


A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA         781 

Official  Out-Door  Poor  Relief,  with  statistics  for  1899.     Ann.  Rept.,   1899,  pp. 

7,    153,   166. 
Official  Out-Door  Poor  Relief,  with  statistics  for  1900.     Ann.  Rept.,   1900,  pp. 

16,  178,  192. 
The  Condition  of  County  and  Township  Charities.     Ann.  Rept.,   1900,  p.  72. 
A  Word  to  Township  Trustees.     With   forms  of  reports,   reprint  of  laws  of 

1895,  i897f  and  1899,  and  opinions  of  the  Attorney-General  thereon.     Indiana 

Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  Dec,  1900,  pp.  i — 12. 
Decision  of  Superior  Court  of  Marion  County,  Indiana,  including  ruling  of  the 

court  in  the  matter  of  compelling  the  auditor  to  pay  to  township  trustees 

allowances    made   by    the    Board    of    County    Commissioners    for    poor-relief. 

Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  Dec,  1900,  p.  12. 
Codification  of  poor-relief  laws  by  Legislature  of  1901.     Acts  of  1901,  p.  323. 

Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  March,  1901,  p.  2. 
Official    Out-Door   Relief,    with    statistics    for    1901,    Indiana    Bull.    Char,    and 

Cor.,  March,  1902,  pp.  10,  25.    Ann.  Rept.,  1902,  p.  86. 
Maps  showing  distribution  of  poor- relief  in  Indiana  in  1900  and  1901.    Indiana 

Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  March,   1902,  p.  i. 
Out-Door  Poor  Relief,  with  statistics  for  1902.     Indiana  Bull  Char,  and  Cor., 

June,  1903,  pp.  I,  10.     Ann.  Rept.,  1903,  p.  73. 
Maps  showing  distribution  of  poor-relief  in  Indiana  in   1897.     1902,  and   1903. 

Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  March,  1904,  p.  2. 
Official  Out-Door  Relief,  with  statistics  for  1903.    Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor., 

March,  1904,  p.  9.     Ann.  Rept.,  1904,  p.  76. 
Official   Out-Door  Relief,  with   reprint  of  law   of   1901    and   forms   of  reports. 

Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  March,   1905,  p.   2. 
Out-Door  Poor  Relief  with  statistics  for  1904.     Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor., 

June,  1905,  pp.  I,  9.     Ann.  Rept.,  1905,  p.  66. 
Out- Door  Poor  Relief,  with  statistics  for  1005.     Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor., 

March,  1906,  pp.  1-70. 
A   Decade  of  Official   Poor  Relief  in   Indiana,  with  statistics  for   1896 — 1905, 

inclusive.     Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  March  1906,  pp.  71-113. 
Development  of  Public  Charities  in  Indiana.     An  outline  of  the  exhibit  of  the 

Board  of  State   Charities,  prepared   for  the  Louisiana  Purchase  Exposition, 

St.  Louis,   1904.     (Township  Charities,  p.  80.) 
Brackenridge,   Geo.   W.     Traveling   Mendicants.     Proc   State   Conf.   Char,   and 

Cor.,  1890,  p.  34. 
Butler  Amos   W.     Facts  about  the   Operation  of  the  New   Poor  Relief  Laws. 

In   Proc.   Sixth   Ann.   Meeting   Ind.   State   Board   of   Commerce,   Feb.,    1900, 

p,  I.     Bull.  No.  10,  Indiana  Bur.  of  Stat.,  March,  1900,  p.  8.     Eighth  Bienn. 

Rept.  Indiana  Bur.  Stat.,  1900,  p.  289. 
The  Success  of  an  Indiana  Experiment.     In  Annals  Amer.  Acad.  Pol.  and  Soc. 

Sci.,  XXIII,  March,  1904,  p.  202. 
Out-Door  Poor  Relief.     Address  before  fourth  annual  public  meeting  of  Asso- 
ciation   Charities,    Peoria,    111.      In    Fourth    Ann.    Rept.,    Assoc.    Char,    and 

Philan.,  Peoria,  111.,  p.  35. 
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782  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

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Indiana  Bull.  Char,  and  Cor.,  March,  1900,  p.  2. 
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p.  42- 
Dracoo,  John  W.     What  Kind  of  Help  is  to  be  Given  the  Poor?     Proc.  State 
Conf.  Char,  and  Cor.,   1901.     In  Indiana  Bull.   Char,  and  Cor.,  June,   1902, 

p.  52. 
Fetter,  Frank  A.     The  Improvement  of  Our  System  of  Township  Poor  Relief. 

Proc.  State  Conf.  Char,  and  Cor.,   1897,  p.  67. 
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p.  40. 
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Proc.  State  Conf.  Char,  and  Cor.,  1897,  p.  75. 
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A  DECADE  OF  OFFICIAL  POOR-RELIEF  IN  INDIANA         783 

Resolution   concerning  transportation   of   tramps.      Proc.   State   Conf.   Char,   and 

Cor.,  1890,  p.  53. 
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1890,  p.  29. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO.     V 


HERBERT  E.  FLEMING 
University  of  Chicago 


V.   ESTHETIC    PERIODICALS    OF    THE    WORLD'S    FAIR    CITY 

1890-1900 

"All  this  time  there  had  been  building  the  beautiful  city  of  white  palaces 
on  the  lake,  and  it  was  now  open  for  the  world  to  see  what  Chicago  had 
dreamed  and  created.  Although  it  had  made  me  impatient  to  have  Mr. 
Dround  spend  on  it  his  energy  that  was  needed  in  his  own  business,  now 
that  it  was  accomplished,  in  all  its  beauty  and  grandeur,  it  filled  me  with 
admiration. 

"There  were  few  hours  that  I  could  spend  in  its  enjoyment,  but  I  remem- 
ber one  evening  after  my  return  from  the  East,  when  we  had  a  family 
party  at  the  Fair.  May  and  Will  were  spending  their  vacation  with  us  during 
the  hot  weather,  and  the  four  of  us,  having  had  our  dinner,  took  an 
electric  launch  and  glided  through  the  lagoons  beneath  the  lofty  peristyle  out 
to  the  lake,  which  was  as  quiet  as  a  pond.  The  long  lines  of  white  build- 
ings were  ablaze  with  countless  lights;  the  music  from  the  bands  scattered 
over  the  grounds  floated  softly  out  upon  the  water;  all  else  was  silent  and 
dark.  In  that  lovely  hour,  soft  and  gentle  as  was  ever  a  summer  night,  the 
toil  and  trouble  of  men,  the  fear  that  was  gripping  men's  hearts  in  the 
market,  fell  away  from  me,  and  in  its  place  came  Faith.  The  people  who 
could  dream  this  vision  and  make  it  real,  those  people  from  all  parts  of  the 
land  who  thronged  here  day  after  day — their  sturdy  wills  and  strong  hearts 
would  rise  above  failure,  would  press  on  to  greater  victories  than  this 
triumph  of  beauty — victories  greater  than  the  world  had  yet  witnessed!" 
E.  V.  Harrington,  packer,  in  The  Memoirs  of  an  American  Citizen,  by 
Robert  Herrick,  1905. 

Basking  in  a  new  light  reflected  over  their  trade  city  by  the 
"White  City"  of  the  World's  Columbian  Exposition,  the  men 
attempting  to  publish  periodicals  at  Chicago  during  the  nineties 
opened  their  eyes  to  many  new  influences.  First  they  adopted 
the  appeal  of  pictorial  art.  The  World's  Fair  was  a  magnificent 
picture.  Graphic  presentation  was  the  form  used  to  attract 
aesthetic  interest  in  several  journals  begun  just  before,  during, 
and  after  1893.     The  copper-plate  half-tone  did  not  come  into 

784 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  785 

general  commercial  use  until  that  year.  The  cheapening  of  this 
process  started  the  wave  of  popular  illustrated  magazines  from 
other  centers,  which  has  since  become  an  inundation.  But  in 
Chicago  this  turn  toward  emphasis  on  illustrations  was  quickened 
by  the  Fair,  which  even  prosaic  visitors  from  western  prairie 
soil  likened  to  the  "heavenly  vision."  Men  ambitious  to  be 
publishers  went  into  ecstasies  over  its  suggestions.  In  imagina- 
tion they  saw  heaps  of  gold  as  the  reward  for  publishing  pic- 
tures, supplemented  with  literary  material. 

Besides  the  effect  of  the  panorama,  there  was  the  finer 
influence  from  the  exhibitions  of  the  fine  arts.  The  subtleties  of 
architectural  decoration,  even  though  done  in  ephemeral  staff; 
the  grace  of  form  from  the  hands  of  the  great  sculptors,  although 
the  statues  were  but  casts;  and,  above  all,  the  original  paintings 
from  the  brushes  of  Old  and  New  World  masters,  hanging  in 
hall  after  hall  of  the  Fine  Arts  Building,  revealed  to  the  people 
of  Chicago  and  the  West  the  beauty  of  universal  art.  Foreign 
members  of  the  artist  group  inspired  in  their  Chicago  hosts  en- 
thusiasm for  art  in  all  of  its  manifestations;  and  the  judging  for 
awards  stimulated  the  habit  of  criticism  on  the  basis  of  merit, 
tending  to  suppress  praise  from  local  pride.  Magazines  devoted 
to  the  fine  arts,  and  literary  magazines  edited  in  the  spirit  of  the 
artist  class,  followed  the  Fair. 

The  World's  Columbian  Exposition  also  brought  historic  per- 
spective to  the  new  and  still  crude  western  metropolis.  On  one 
bright  day  during  that  summer  the  vessels  from  Chicago  harbors 
were,  as  usual,  marking  the  sky-line  of  the  lake  to  the  east  with 
their  clouds  of  smoke,  the  pennants  of  commerce.  Three  caravels, 
picturesque  imitations  of  those  in  which  Columbus  had  sailed  to 
America  in  1492,  and,  like  those  of  the  discoverer,  having  come 
slowly  over  from  old  Spain,  moved  past  the  lake  craft  and  into  the 
Jackson  Park  lagoon,  where  they  still  stand  moored  today.  These 
caravels,  and  the  exposition  in  nearly  all  its  sections,  gave  to  the 
people  of  the  new  western  market-metropolis  the  vivid  impres- 
sion that  the  life  of  their  community  is  but  a  chapter  in  the  epic 
of  world-wide  civilization.     Nearly  all  the  general  literary  and 


786  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

pictorial  magazines  established  in  Chicago  during  the  Fair 
decade  showed  the  effect  of  this  impression. 

Finally,  for  a  season  the  World's  Fair  transformed  Chicago 
the  inland  center  into  Chicago  the  cosmopolitan  center.  This 
city,  being  far  from  a  seaport,  normally  cannot  have  in  it  a 
kaleidoscopic  company  of  transients  from  all  the  world,  such  as 
assembles  daily  in  New  York,  London,  and  Paris.  But  for  the 
one  brief  summer  the  down-town  streets  and  the  wide  ways  at 
the  Fair  grounds  were  thronged  with  visitors,  not  merely  from 
many  localities  of  the  United  States,  but  from  all  countries.  On 
the  Midway  Plaisance,  a  boulevard  of  the  nations  and  races, 
bordered  for  a  mile  by  groups  of  the  natives  of  Europe  and  of 
the  Orient  in  settings  from  their  distant  towns  and  villages,  thou- 
sands of  men  and  women  from  everywhere  touched  shoulders 
in  one  common  interest.  Not  one  of  the  seventy  periodicals  of 
aesthetic  character  undertaken  in  Chicago  during  the  decade  of 
this  cosmopolitan  gathering  contained  the  word  "western"  in  its 
title.  In  every  period  before  this  there  had  been  "western" 
literary  journals  attempted  at  Chicago.  But  the  World's  Fair 
made  for  a  breadth  of  view  which  repressed  the  western  spirit. 
All  types  of  literary  and  artistic  periodicals  became  more  cosmo- 
politan in  their  outlook,  and  in  some  of  the  general  literary  maga- 
zines of  the  decade  unique  efforts  at  the  world-wide  character 
were  made.  During  the  thirteen  years  since  the  exposition 
was  a  reality,  the  tradition  of  it  has  had  a  vital  influence  on 
Chicago.  But,  as  with  reading  a  novel,  the  effects  are  most 
vivid  while  one  is  going  through  its  pages  and  just  after  the  book 
is  closed,  so  the  enlarging  influence  of  the  World's  Fair  was  felt 
most  forcibly  by  Chicago  publishers  during  the  year  of  the  Fair 
and  immediately  after  the  closing  of  its  gates. 

Illustrated  journals,  in  form  though  not  in  periodicity  like 
Harper's  Weekly,  were  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  mushroom 
periodicals  at  Chicago  in  the  first  few  years  of  the  World's  Fair 
decade.  In  most  publications  illustrations  are  used  to  supplement 
literary  features.  In  these  journals  material  in  printed  form 
designed  to  give  literary  entertainment  was  used  as  an  auxiliary 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  787 

to  the  illustrations.  The  most  important  of  these  periodicals 
were  Halligan's  Illustrated  World's  Fair,  Campbell's  Illustrated 
Columbian,  and  the  Graphic. 

The  first  number  of  Halligan's  Illustrated  World's  Fair,  put 
out  for  promotion,  appeared  in  1890.  Mr.  Jewell  Halligan,  its 
originator,  came  to  Chicago  from  Denver,  and  in  this  advance 
issue  announced  plans  for  a  most  pretentious  publication.  The 
second  number  was  published  in  August  of  the  next  year,  and  the 
periodical  was  issued  monthly  until  December,  1893. 

"To  carry  the  undeniable  news  of  the  eye  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth,"  was  one  phase  of  the  publishing  policy  announced  by  Hal- 
ligan's paper.  Its  pages  were  of  unusually  large  size.  Most  of 
them  were  filled  with  half-tone  illustrations.  An  advertisement, 
in  1893,  said  that  the  magazine  was  "the  first  to  exclude  all  other 
forms  of  picture  save  photographs  on  copper  called  half-tones." 
Undeniably  the  illustrations,  done  by  the  new  process  and  printed 
on  extra-fine  paper,  were  well  executed.  The  journal's  pictorial 
record  of  the  Fair  was  so  complete  that  two  editions  of  extra 
copies  were  printed  for  sale  in  bound  volumes.  In  this  form 
the  magazines  made  such  an  attractive  World's  Fair  picture-book 
that  one  set  was  added  to  the  collection  of  volumes  in  the  art- 
room  of  the  Chicago  Public  Library. 

A  distinct  literary  flavor  was  to  be  found  in  the  printed 
material  on  the  pages  containing  the  smaller  illustrations.  This 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  John  McGovem  was  the  editor.  Of 
an  ebullient,  imaginative  turn  of  mind,  a  reader  who  has  roamed 
over  many  fields  of  world-lore  and  literature,  Mr.  McGovern  was 
spurred  to  most  characteristic  endeavors  by  the  spirit  of  the 
World's  Fair  times,  when  all  the  currents  of  thought  ran  large. 
Having  graduated  into  newspaper  work  and  letters  from  the 
printer's  case,  he  had  written  ten  volumes  of  essays,  poems,  and 
novels.  All  of  these  had  been  published  at  Chicago.  And  some 
of  the  exposition  directors  who  had  been  patrons  of  these  pro- 
ductions had  urged  him  to  take  the  editorship  of  Halligan's  Illus- 
trated World's  Fair.  Always  an  advocate  of  "western  litera- 
ture," he  spoke  of  editor  and  publisher  as  "western  men,"  and 


788  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

announced  that  they  would  "strive  to  do  their  work  in  their  own 
way,  aping  no  fashion  of  any  other  region."  Declaring  that 
"original  literature  is  original  literature,"  and  that  "the  fleeting, 
capricious  thoughts  of  a  creator  lie  betewen  him  and  the  Great 
Creator,"  Mr.  McGovern  made  the  following  signed  statement 
concerning  the  contributions  literary  men  might  send  him :  "T 
will  not  edit  their  copy.  This  pledge  I  kept  sacred  in  The  Cur- 
rent/ it  will  not  be  more  difficult  to  make  it  more  sacred  in 
maturer  years."  Although  asking  for  "a  pleasant  godspeed  for 
Western  Literature,"  Mr.  McGovem  voiced  the  larger  outlook, 
calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  Fair  was  not  Chicago's,  but 
the  world's,  and  declaring  that  the  journal  was  to  have  dignity 
and  "to  perfect  a  proper  subjective." 

Literary  material  of  more  interest  from  the  ideas  in  the 
subject-matter  than  from  form  of  presentation  was  the  result  of 
this  policy.  An  excellent  little  poem  on  some  theme  suggested 
by  thoughts  of  Christopher  Columbus  appeared  in  nearly  every 
number.  For  instance,  "A  Mother's  Song  in  Spain,  A.  D.  1493," 
was  contributed  by  William  S.  Lord,  an  Evanston  business  man 
who  has  done  some  writing  and  independent  publishing  from  time 
to  time.  E.  Hough,  Ernest  McGaffey,  and  Charles  Eugene 
Banks  were  among  those  who  wrote  Columbus  verses  for  the 
Illustrated  World's  Fair.  Opie  Read,  of  whom  Mr.  McGovern 
is  an  intimate  friend,  contributed  a  sketch  entitled  "Old  Billy 
at  the  World's  Fair."  The  literary  ministers,  David  Swing, 
Robert  Mclntyre,  and  W.  T.  Meloy,  wrote  many  essays  for 
the  journal,  and  Colonel  Robert  G.  Ingersoll  supplied  an  article 
captioned  "The  Effect  of  the  World's  Fair  on  Human  Progress." 
A  total  of  ninety-nine  contributors  was  listed.  While  many 
were  Chicago  men,  not  a  few  in  the  list  were  residents  of  other 
places  in  America,  and  some,  including  Alphonse  Daudet,  of 
distant  countries.  In  all  the  contributions  and  editorials  the 
western  element  was  illuminated  with  league-like  leaps  of  the 
imagination,  showing  appreciation  of  historic  perspective. 

A  general  world's  magazine  was  expected  to  be  the  out- 
growth of  Halligan's  Illustrated  World's  Fair.     In  the  Decern- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  789 

ber.  1893,  number  the  publisher  announced  that  the  name  of  the 
magazine  would  thereafter  be  the  Illustrated  World,  to  be  a 
literary  journal  containing  "the  larger  views  of  the  earth's 
surface."  But  that  number  was  the  last.  Mr.  Halligan  lost 
some  $30,000  in  the  Illustrated  World's  Fair  venture.  The  cost 
of  the  extra-large  half-tones  was  too  great  to  be  easily  met  with 
receipts  from  subscriptions  at  $2.50  a  year,  and  the  expense  for 
the  half-tones  used  in  the  advertising  pages  was  so  heavy  that 
every  increase  in  advertising  meant  an  increase  in  the  net  loss. 
The  republication  of  the  numbers  for  sale  in  bound  volumes 
did  not  meet  with  a  large  demand.  Special  patronage  in  some 
form  was  needed. 

A  fight  for  special  support  from  the  exposition  directorate 
was  lost  by  Mr.  Halligan.  Unfortunately  for  him,  between 
1890,  when  his  promotion  number,  copyrighted  as  Halligan' s 
Illustrated  World's  Fair,  made  its  appearance,  and  the  opening 
of  the  Fair  in  1893,  the  official  name  adopted  for  it  was 
World's  Columbian  Exposition"  instead  of  "World's  Fair,"  the 
name  originally  contemplated.  Hence,  although  the  exposition 
was  generally  spoken  of  as  the  "World's  Fair,"  the  name  of  his 
magazine  would  not  have  been  correct  for  an  official  organ. 

In  the  meantime,  a  monthly  designated  the  World's  Colum- 
bian Exposition  Illustrated  was  started,  in  February,  1891,  by 
Mr.  James  B.  Campbell,  a  Chicago  man  in  the  printing  business. 
A  collection  of  old  copies  of  the  Historical  Society  library  shows 
that  this,  too,  was  an  excellent  illustrated  journal,  although  not 
so  large  nor  so  artistic  as  Halligan's.  But  Mr.  Campbell 
succeeded  in  securing  official  support.  His  paper  became  the 
organ  of  the  exposition  directors,  publishing  official  documents. 
It  was  consequently  profitable  to  the  publisher.  The  magazine 
also  was  declared  to  be  the  prize  history  of  the  exposition  and 
was  awarded  a  first  premium. 

Besides  stating  that  he  proposed  to  make  the  World's  Colum- 
bian Exposition  Illustrated  a  "complete  encyclopedia  of  the  great 
enterprise,"  the  editor  and  publisher  said :  "In  addition  we  will 
devote  a  proper  amount  of  space  to  the  art  and  literature  of 


79©  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  day."  A  standing  sub-line  to  the  title  made  the  same 
promise.  The  journal's  pages,  however,  contained  nothing  of 
aesthetic  interest  except  the  pictorial  display.  The  World's 
Columbian  Exposition  Illustrated  ran  as  such  until  February, 

1894. 

Out  of  it  grew  an  illustrated  monthly  magazine  which  has 
endured  until  the  present  day.  This  is  called  Campbell's  Illus- 
trated Journal.  In  the  number  before  its  change  of  name  an 
announcement  said  that  in  the  future  the  magazine  would  devote 
much  space  to  art.  In  it,  however,  chief  attention  has  been  paid 
to  the  various  expositions  which  have  followed  that  of  1893  in 
America  and  abroad.  In  1900  Mr.  Campbell  received  a  gold 
medal  at  the  Paris  exposition.  Today  his  journal  is  advertised 
as  a  high-class  illustrated  magazine  for  home  reading.  But  it 
has  never  been  given  a  strong  literary  character,  although  it 
has  been  so  conducted  as  to  be  a  successful  business  enterprise. 

The  Graphic,  which  rose  on  the  World's  Fair  wave,  was 
broader  in  scoj>e,  and  higher  in  artistic  and  literary  quality,  than 
either  of  the  illustrated  papers  nominated  as  exposition  journals. 
It  was  published  by  Mr.  G.  P.  Engelhard,  who  is  today  a  suc- 
cessful publisher  of  medical  books.  During  two  of  the  years  of 
its  existence  it  was  edited  by  Mr.  J.  A.  Spencer  Dickerson,  now 
publisher  of  the  Baptist  paper,  the  Standard. 

Although  the  Graphic  was  a  national  news  and  general  liter- 
ary weekly,  it  grew  out  of  a  local  suburban  newspaper  owned  by 
Mr.  Engelhard.  This  paper  was  published  in  Hyde  Park,  the 
suburb  in  which  the  grounds  for  the  then  projected  fair  were 
located.  When  Hyde  Park  was  annexed  to  Chicago  in  1890, 
Mr.  Engelhard  converted  his  paper  for  local  items  into  a  national 
illustrated  weekly  of  most  general  character.  At  one  long  jump 
this  change  was  made,  in  the  hope  that,  from  a  start  which  illus- 
trating the  World's  Fair  was  expected  to  give  the  Graphic,  a 
permanent  foothold  for  a  nation-wide  circulation  would  be  se- 
cured. When,  in  1892,  the  Graphic  absorbed  America,  which 
on  its  part  had  absorbed  the  Current,  the  new  journal  possessed 
whatever   remnants  of   strength   there  were   left   from   all   the 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  79I 

last    preceding    ephemeral    periodicals    of    merit    published    in 
Chicago. 

While  the  Graphic  was  a  general  newspaper,  containing 
editorial  reviews  of  independent  Republican  leaning,  literary  ma- 
terial of  interest  because  of  its  form  made  up  a  considerable 
share  of  its  contents.  There  was  serial  and  briefer  fiction,  also 
some  poetry,  in  every  week's  issue.  Mary  Hartwell  Cather- 
wood,  whose  romances  have  received  general  recognition,  con- 
tributed a  continued  story  of  Canadian  life  entitled  "The  Children 
of  Ha  Ha  Bay."  The  first  ambitious  work  of  Vance  Thompson 
whose  character  sketches  have  made  his  name  well  known  to 
magazine  readers,  was  done  for  the  Graphic.  Florence  Wilkin- 
son, who  writes  verses  for  the  leading  magazines,  had  her  first 
experience  in  writing  for  a  periodical  while  serving  as  one  of  its 
editors.  Thus,  like  other  short-lived  literary  journals  in  Chi- 
cago, the  Graphic  was  a  training-ground  for  some  of  those  enter- 
ing the  literary  lists. 

This  bringing-out  of  local  talent  was  even  more  marked  in 
reference  to  illustrators.  The  illustrations  of  the  Graphic  were 
not  confined,  like  those  of  the  avowedly  World's  Fair  journals, 
to  reproductions  of  photographs.  Every  piece  of  fiction  was  en- 
livened with  original  illustrations.  Decorative  borders  illumi- 
nated the  pages.  T.  Dart  Walker  and  Henry  Reuterdahl,  illus- 
trators now  in  New  York,  did  some  of  their  initial  magazine 
work  for  the  Graphic.  Will  Bradley,  an  artist  also  now  of  Ne\v 
York,  did  borders  and  headpieces  for  it.  Others  who  later  went 
from  Chicago  to  "Gotham"  were  discovered  by  this  Chicago 
illustrated  periodical. 

For  the  reproductions  of  photographs  which  were  a  stable 
feature  of  the  Graphic,  at  first  zinc  etchings,  showing  only  lines, 
were  used.  But  in  1893  the  new  half-tones,  capable  of  making 
shadings  show  in  printer's  ink  by  means  of  etching  the  dotted 
surfaces  of  copper  plates  were  adopted.  They  were  especially 
good  for  picturing  the  white  buildings  and  dark  crowds  of  the 
fair.  But  the  process  was  then  expensive.  Mr.  Engelhard 
had  to  pay  40  cents  a  square  inch  for  half-tones — a  high  price 
compared  with  the  12^/2  cents  charged  today. 


792  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  yearly  subscription  price  was  put  at  $4.  Nevertheless, 
the  magazine  attained  a  bona  fide  circulation  of  13,000;  the 
advertisers'  annuals  quoted  it  at  40,000;  and  advertising  was 
received  in  such  amounts  that  for  one  twelve-month  period  the 
Graphic's  books  showed  a  profit  of  $10,000.  although  that  was 
not  enough  to  offset  the  losses  of  earlier  years. 

Then  came  the  panic  of  1893,  which  during  the  height 
of  the  Fair  business  men  had  felt  to  be  impending.  The 
circulation  of  the  Graphic  dropped  50  per  cent.,  throwing  what 
had  been  a  favorable  balance  to  the  other  side.  Its  publication 
was  soon  after  suspended.  Interviewed  for  this  historical  sketch, 
Mr.  Engelhard  said: 

The  Graphic  would  have  lived  through  this  reverse  if  it  had  been  started 
in  New  York,  for  two  reasons:  First,  because  New  York  is  the  home  of 
great  successes  in  higher-class  journalism.  With  a  showing  like  that  which 
the  Graphic  had  made  here,  if  made  there,  scores  of  men  of  wealth  would 
have  been  ready  to  step  in  and  keep  it  going  as  a  business  investment.  Sec- 
ond, because  of  the  aggregation  of  art  talent  and  literary  talent  in  New 
York.  All  we  had  here  was  what  we  discovered  and  created.  The  thing 
that  makes  the  New  York  magazines  today  is  not  that  the  people  of  the 
country  care  particularly  to  patronize  New  York,  but  that  the  talent  is 
there.  New  York  is  distinctly  the  utilitarian  art  center,  just  as  Battle  Creek 
is  the  national  center  for  sanitaria  and  health  foods,  and  Detriot  for  medical 
supplies.  When  certain  interests  once  secure  lodgment  in  a  locality,  they 
find  a  natural  development  along  easiest  lines  in-  that  place.  Men  of  talent 
for  illustrating,  discovered  by  the  Art  Institute,  daily  newspapers,  and 
short-lived  magazines  of  Chicago,  naturally  migrate  to  New  York.  It  was 
so  with  those  who  did  work  for  the  Graphic. 

The  names  of  two  other  illustrated  periodicals,  recorded  as 
having  originated  in  1892,  the  year  in  which  it  was  first  intended 
the  World's  Fair  should  be  opened,  appear  in  the  newspaper 
annual  lists  of  Chicago.  One  was  the  Illustrated  Sun,  a  weekly 
app>earing  on  Saturdays  for  a  year.  The  other  was  the  Ameri- 
can Illustrated,  a  monthly  of  magazine  form,  devoted  to  litera- 
ture and  education.  Its  name  appeared  in  the  annuals  as  late  as 
1901,  when  it  announced  a  sworn  circulation  of  100,000. 

Puck,  one  of  the  well-established  New  York  humorous  week- 
lies, was  published  at  the  Columbian  Exposition  grounds  in  Chi- 
cago from  May  i  to  October  i,  1893.    It  bore  the  name  World's 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  793 

Fair  Puck,  and  also  a  Chicago  post-office  entry  for  thirty-six 
numbers,  but  its  nature  was  not  changed.  There  was  merely  a 
summer's  variation  in  the  subject-matter.  The  scenes  and  char- 
acters for  the  illustrated  jokes  and  sketches  were  taken  from  the 
Fair.  A  frequent  trick  of  the  caricaturists  and  cartoonists  for 
the  World's  Fair  Puck  was  to  make  the  exposition  statutory 
appear  animated.  Incidentally,  through  receiving  visitors  at  a 
temporary  Puck  Building  at  the  Fair,  the  publishers  pushed  their 
circulation. 

A  weekly  printed  for  the  most  part  from  plates  prepared  by 
a  syndicate  of  New  York  men  interested  in  Life,  was  issued  in 
Chicago  beginning  in  1890.  Figaro  was  its  name.  A  sketch 
of  "Figaro  en  Masque" — a  satanic  figure  in  pen  and  ink,  a  pho- 
tograph of  some  Chicago  society  leader,  and  a  border  in  brilliant 
red  ink  combine  to  awaken  interest  in  the  cover  of  each  of  the 
numbers  to  be  found  in  a  file  at  the  Newberry  Library.  In  the 
contents  the  plate  matter  from  Life  was  supplemented  with 
original  material  concerning  the  drama,  society,  and  local  affairs 
in  Chicago,  as  satirically  seen  through  a  monocle  like  Life's. 
After  the  first  year  the  general  jokes  from  New  York  were 
dropped  out.  By  1893  the  many  functions  for  visiting  princes 
afforded  more  society  news  than  there  had  been  in  Chicago 
before,  and  although  a  few  tales  were  published  in  the  paper, 
it  became  distinctly  a  society  weekly.  After  several  changes  in 
management,  with  the  issue  of  December  21,  1893,  Figaro  van- 
ished from  the  periodical  stage  in  Chicago. 

Titles  with  Columbian  Exposition  connotation  were  given 
to  two  ephemeral  weeklies  of  the  literary  class.  One  called 
Columbia,  a  Saturday  paper  listed  in  the  newspaper  directories 
as  "literary,"  lasted  for  a  year  or  so  in  1890  and  1891.  The 
Columbian,  catalogued  as  a  periodical  devoted  to  fiction,  lived 
as  brief  a  time  in  1892  and  1893. 

A  creditable  quarterly  designated  the  Queen  Isabella  Journal, 
and  intended  to  be  but  ephemeral,  was  published  in  1893  by  the 
Queen  Isabella  Association  to  promote  the  interests  of  women  at 
the  World's  Fair. 

The  creation  of  several  art  magazines  for  general  readers 


794  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

was  one  of  the  direct  results  of  the  exaltation  of  the  fine  arts  in 
Chicago  and  the  Middle  West  by  the  World's  Columbian  Expo- 
sition. They  grew  out  of  the  general  increase  in  attention  to 
the  so-called  fine  arts — the  expressions  of  beauty  in  the  graphic 
and  plastic  media — which  was  given  a  much  greater  impetus 
by  the  Exposition  than  was  activity  in  other  forms  of  express- 
ing the  aesthetic  interest.  This  attention  was  not  ended  with  the 
passing  of  the  rich  collection  of  paintings,  drawings,  and  sculp- 
ture in  the  Art  Building  of  staff  at  the  Fair  grounds.  There  was 
a  permanent  result  more  influential  locally,  and  from  which  art 
magazines  emanated  more  directly.  The  impressive  and  beauti- 
ful structure  of  the  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  standing  on  the 
Lake  Front  border  of  the  city's  business  maelstrom,  was  erected 
in  1892.  The  World's  Fair  commissioners  and  the  Art  Institute 
trustees  built  it  and  gave  it  tO'  the  municipality.  It  was  tempo- 
rarily used  for  Columbian  Exposition  congresses.  But  the  monu- 
mental structure  of  blue-gray  stone,  its  architecture  of  the  Italian 
Renaissance  style,  with  details  in  classic  Ionic  and  Corinthian, 
was  erected  on  such  a  scale  as  would  fit  it  to  stand  as  a  permanent 
shrine,  where  worshipers  of  the  fine  arts  might  gather  in  its 
museums  and  grow  in  appreciation  of  beauty,  and  where  those 
with  creative  ability  might  assemble  in  its  studios  and  learn 
technique.  The  art  magazines  which  accompanied  the  general 
interest  in  fine  arts  awakened  by  the  exposition,  and  the  perma- 
nent establishment  of  this  institution  of  art,  did  not  depend  pri- 
marily on  literary  form  for  their  appeal  to  the  aesthetic  interest. 
But  since  the  art  of  letters  is  furthered  by  the  parallel  increase 
of  interest  in  painting  and  sculpture,  the  growth  in  this  phase 
of  the  aesthetic  interest,  and  the  magazines  which  went  with  it, 
are  to  be  considered  in  giving  an  account  of  the  literary  interests 
of  Chicago. 

Brush  and  Pencil  is  the  name  which  two  artistic  magazines 
started  at  the  Art  Institute  have  borne,  one  of  them,  a  general 
art  magazine  which  has  broken  the  local  bounds,  being  still  pub- 
lished regularly.  In  October,  1892,  the  first  magazine  of  that 
name  was  attempted  at  the  Institute.  It  lived  but  a  short  time, 
and  was  soon  absorbed  by  Arts  for  America. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  795 

This  more  lasting  magazine — Arts  for  America — was  also 
established  in  1892,  but  with  offices  outside  of  the  Art  Institute. 
It  was  broader  in  its  scope,  and  more  directly  the  result  of  the 
general  interest  in  fine  arts  created  by  the  Exposition  exhibits. 
One  of  its  early  objects  was  announced  to  be  the  reproduction 
of  the  pictures  at  the  World's  Fair.  Devoted  exclusively  to  in- 
formation about  the  fine  arts,  it  was  an  attractive  monthly,  digni- 
fied in  tone,  and,  from  its  illustrations,  beautiful  in  appearance. 
It  was  the  organ  of  the  Central  Art  Association,  and  was  con- 
tinued for  nine  years.  Later  numbers  announced  that  one  of  its 
objects  was  the  promotion  of  national  art  education.  In  1899, 
from  an  office  of  publication  in  the  Auditorium  tower,  the  maga- 
zine went  out  to  15,000  readers,  largely  in  the  north  central 
states.    Mrs.  T.  Vernette  Morse  was  its  editor. 

The  Brush  and  Pencil,  which  has  been  continued  monthly  to 
the  present  time,  was  begun  in  1897.  It  was  started  as  a  maga- 
zine "devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  students  of  the  Art  Institute." 
In  the  initial  number  the  editor  of  Arts  for  America  was  thanked 
for  the  permission  to  revive  the  name  Brush  and  Pencil.  Charles 
Francis  Browne,  the  painter,  a  member  of  the  Art  Institute  corp>s 
of  teachers,  was  the  first  editor  of  the  journal.  In  tone  it  was 
at  the  beginning  very  much  like  any  school  or  college  paper. 

In  1900  Brush  and  Pencil  became  a  general  art  magazine, 
the  local  elements  being  eliminated.  During  that  year  it  was  pur- 
chased by  Mr.  Frederick  W.  Morton,  a  former  Unitarian  min- 
ister, who  for  five  months  in  1899  had  attempted,  at  Chicago,  the 
publication  of  Friday,  "a  weekly  journal  of  views,  reviews,  and 
piquant  comment."  Mr.  Morton  became  sole  editor  and  pub- 
lisher of  Brush  and  Pencil.  For  several  years  the  office  of  pub- 
lication was  in  the  McClurg  Building. 

The  character  of  the  magazine,  as  a  portrayer  of  contempo- 
rary work  in  the  fine  arts,  has  been  excellent.  The  reproductions 
of  the  best  of  the  paintings,  mural  decoration,  and  sculpture  of 
America,  Europe,  and  Japan,  printed  in  its  pages,  have  been 
well  done.  Mr.  Morton  holds  that  at  no  city  can  engraving  and 
printing  of  high  quality  be  secured  more  economically  than  in 
Chicago.  The  magazine's  articles  on  art  subjects  have  also 
been  uniformly  good. 


796  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Brush  and  Pencil  has  had  a  circulation  of  10,000,  the  sub- 
scribers being  scattered  tlirough  all  the  states .  But  Mr.  Morton 
complains  that  the  people  of  Chicago  are  not  yet  interested  in 
art  in  general,  that  their  art  interest  is  confined  to  supporting 
the  Art  Institute.  The  magazine  has  not  enjoyed  a  very  pros- 
perous business  career.  From  July  to  December,  1904,  its  publi- 
cation was  temporarily  discontinued,  but  thereafter  resumed. 
To  secure  advertising,  on  May  i,  1905,  the  main  office  of  the 
periodical  was  removed  to  New  York,  although  the  Chicago 
post-office  entry  has  been  retained  and  the  mechanical  work  con- 
tinued here.    Mr.  Morton  says: 

New  York  is  the  magazine  center  of  the  country.  Any  Chicago 
magazine  that  has  made  good  its  foothold  has  gone  to  New  York.  In  New 
York  in  five  days  I  secured  $2,400  worth  of  cash  advertising.  In  Chicago 
I  could  not  get  that  much  for  Brush  and  Pencil  in  five  weeks. 

Great  Pictures,  a  monthly  filled  with  reproductions  of  paint- 
ings by  world-masters,  was  brought  out  regularly  during  the 
year  1899.  Its  contents  were  confined  to  copies  of  the  nude. 
Its  file  shows  that  it  was  plainly  erotic,  and  that  the  periodical 
was  designed  for  a  perverted  use  of  the  art  interests.  It  was 
published  by  "The  White  City  Art  Company,"  and  was  a  medium 
for  advertising  the  sale  of  single  copies  of  the  pictures  repro- 
duced in  its  pages. 

Nature  and  Art,  a  children's  monthly  of  aesthetic  interest 
derived  from  illustrations  well  executed  in  printed  colors,  was 
begun  in  1897  as  Birds  in  Natural  Colors,  and  continued  until 
1901. 

Child  Garden  of  Story,  Song  and  Play,  a  monthly  magazine 
for  children  of  the  age  for  primers,  was  established  in  1892  and 
is  still  published.  It  is  a  kindergarten  magazine  in  which  the 
attractiveness  of  stories,  rhymes,  and  pictures  is  utilized  to  edu- 
cate little  ones  without  the  api)earance  of  didactic  effort,  accord- 
ing to  the  principles  of  the  "new  education."  It  is  published  at 
the  Pestalozzi-Froebel  Press  in  Chicago,  and  has  a  circulation 
of  10,000. 

A  unique  order  of  literary  periodicals,  toned  to  the  temper 
of  the  artist,  whatever  his  working  medium,  flourished  in  Chi- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  797 

cago  during  the  years  immediately  following  the  World's  Fair, 
The  presence  of  a  growing  group  of  professional  artists  and  liter- 
ary workers — an  artist  class — ^and  an  increase  in  the  number  of 
dilettantes  account,  in  part,  for  the  interest  in  this  type  of  lit- 
erary medium  at  Chicago.  Enthusiasm  for  individual  expres- 
sion, and  contempt  for  the  inartistic,  gave  a  tone  to  these  minia- 
ture magazines.  The  Chap-Book,  whose  history  has  significance 
in  a  certain  line  of  literary  and  periodical  publishing  develop- 
ment for  the  entire  country,  east  as  well  as  west,  was  the  first 
and  most  notable  of  this  class  of  literary  media.  Others  at  Chi- 
cago in  the  nineties  were  Four  O'Clock,  the  Blue  Sky,  and  the 
Scroll. 

Before  being  transplanted  to  Chicago,  in  August,  1894,  the 
Chap-Book  had  been  issued  for  three  months  at  Cambridge, 
Mass.  Mr.  Herbert  S.  Stone,  a  Harvard  college  man  from  Chi- 
cago, the  son  of  Mr.  Melville  E.  Stone,  the  journalist,  was  the 
chief  originator  and  principal  editor  and  publisher  of  the  Chap- 
Book  until  its  hundredth  and  last  number  appeared  July  15, 
1898.  As  an  undergraduate  he  had  been  editor  of  the  Harvard 
Crimson,  had  contributed  sketches  to  the  Lampoon,  and  had  pre- 
pared a  serious  work  of  First  Editions  of  American  Authors,  de- 
signed for  collectors.  In  the  autumn  of  his  senior  year.  1893- 
94,  at  Cambridge,  Mr.  Stone  had,  with  H,  I,  Kimball,  establish- 
ed the  firm  of  Stone  &  Kimball,  for  carrying  on  a  small  book- 
publishing  business,  which  was  later  continued  in  New  York 
by  Mr,  Kimball, 

The  periodical  was  put  out  to  be  an  adjunct  to  this  business. 
The  ambitious  undergraduate  book-publishers  needed  a  circular 
with  which  to  advertise  the  books  of  fiction  and  verse  bearing 
their  imprint,  and  economy  was  to  be  exercised  in  having  it  cir- 
culated as  second-class  mail  matter.  Choosing  a  name  which 
originated  in  the  literary  developments  of  England  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  when  small  tracts  or  booklets  containing  ballads 
and  stories  of  heroes,  hobgoblins,  and  witches  were  issued  inter- 
mittently, and  were  sold  cheap,  by  chapmen  or  peddlers,  they 
called  their  circular  the  Chap-Book — a  name  which  proved  ad- 
mirably pat  for  the  Cambridge-Chicago  pubilcation.     This  was 


798  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  first  chap-book  to  appear  at  stated  intervals.  Coming  out 
semi-monthly,  it  was  sold  at  five  cents  a  copy  and  one  dollar  a 
year.  It  was  very  small  and  of  the  bibelot  shape,  something  new 
at  the  time,  and  a  means  of  emphasizing  its  unique  character. 

But  for  this  "miscellany  and  review  of  belles-lettres"  to  ful- 
fil the  post-office  regulations,  reading-matter  containing  general 
information  was  required,  and  the  title-page,  which,  like  every 
other  of  its  pages,  was  odd  from  being  printed  in  red  as  well  as 
black  ink,  contained  these  words : 

The  Chap-Book,  Being  a  miscellany  of  curious  and  interesting  songs, 
ballads,  tales,  histories,  etc. ;  adorned  with  a  variety  of  pictures  and  very 
delightful  to  read,  newly  composed  by  MANY  CELEBRATED  WRITERS ; 
to  which  is  annexed  a  large  collection  of  notices  of  books. 

In  the  character  creation,  during  the  first  two  months  of  the 
periodical,  Mr.  Stone  was  assisted  by  Bliss  Carman,  the  poet. 
Together  they  wrote  some  original  notes  and  essays,  and  edited 
the  contributions.  Sharp  remarks  about  new  books,  reviews 
containing  views  framed  solely  from  the  feelings  of  the  one  who 
happened  to  write  each  critique,  gave  the  Chap-Book  its  keynote. 
All  of  the  notes  were  in  the  first  person  and  signed.  The  essays, 
stories,  and  poems  published,  were  marked  by  the  most  distinct 
individuality  and  originality.  In  making  their  bow,  the  chap- 
men of  1894  had  added  a  word  that  contributions  from  writers 
"unknown"  as  well  as  from  those  "wellknown"  would  be 
printed.  Both  men  who  had  written  before  and  men  who  had 
never  written  for  publication,  but  thought  that  they  could  do  so, 
at  once  saw  in  the  Chap-Book  a  medium  for  their  freest  expres- 
sion. They  soared  in  freedom  from  the  commercial  chains  of 
the  established  publishers  who  judge  literary  output  by  the  stand- 
ard of  the  conventional  demands  made  by  the  book-  and  maga- 
zine-buying public.  The  independence  of  the  Chap-Book  was 
emphasized  by  the  fact  that  Mr.  Stone  and  Mr.  Kimball  con- 
tinued their  publishing  despite  a  threat  from  the  Harvard 
faculty  that  if  it  was  not  discontinued  they  could  not  be 
graduated. 

This  new  periodical,  so  novel  in  character,  leaped  into  in- 
stant popularity  with  its  first  numljers.     Such  a  reception  took 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  799 

the  young  publishers  by  surprise.  It  seemed  to  them  an  acci- 
dent. They,  however,  grasped  the  situation  and  pushed  their 
effort  with  enthusiasm.  Before  the  three  months  of  its  pubHca- 
tion  at  Cambridge  had  ended,  the  Chap-Book  had  found  an  audi- 
ence and  was  to  be  seen  regularly  on  the  news-stands  not  only 
of  Boston  and  the  Elast,  but  throughout  the  country. 

The  local  situation  was  not  very  encouraging  for  the  Chap- 
Book,  when  in  the  summer  of  1894  its  publishing  headquarters 
were  removed  to  Chicago.  It  became  a  Chicago  publication  for 
the  greater  part  of  its  existence  chiefly  through  the  accident  that 
Mr.  Stone's  home  was  here,  and  that  for  personal  and  social 
reasons  he  decided,  upon  graduation  from  college,  to  carry  on  a 
professional  and  business  career  as  a  publisher  in  this  city.  Mr. 
Harrison  Garfield  Rhodes,  a  Cleveland  man,  came  with  him  to 
be  associate  editor  of  the  Chap-Book.  Mr.  Stone  found  the  resi- 
dents of  Chicago  suffering  under  a  reaction  which  came  after  the 
World's  Fair.  Mr.  Stone  says  that  an  avalanche  of  criticism  from 
discerning  visitors  here  the  year  before  to  see  the  "White  City" 
had  temporarily  overwhelmed  the  thinking  people  of  the  smoke- 
covered,  overgrown  business  town,  which  stood  out  unfavorably 
by  contrast  with  the  beautiful  Fair.  But  he  was  nevertheless 
firm  in  the  belief  that  an  essentially  cosmopolitan  magazine  could 
be  published  successfully  in  Chicago  and  the  West. 

Attention  to  new  and  curious  developments  in  foreign  artistic 
groups,  particularly  among  the  men  of  letters  in  England,  which 
had  been  one  of  the  unique  features  of  the  Chap-Book  in  its 
earliest  issues,  was  continued  and  increased.  Mr.  Stone  was  in 
close  touch  with  Aubrey  Beardsley  and  the  "Yellow  Book" 
coterie  of  London,  and  from  time  to  time  made  trips  to  London 
and  Paris  in  quest  of  manuscripts.  In  a  partial  summary  of 
authors  who  sent  contributions  from  abroad,  the  following  were 
listed : 

From  England:  William  Sharp, Edmund  Gosse, Kenneth  Grahame.I.  Zangwill, 
John  Davidson,  "Q",  William  Ernest  Henley,  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  H.  B. 
Marriott  Watson,  William  Canton,  Norman  Gale,  Max  Beerbohm,  F.  Frank- 
fort Moore,  Arthur  Morrison,  H.  G.  Wells,  S.  Levett  Yeats,  Katherine  Tynan 
Hinkson,  W.  B.  Yeats,  Thomas  Hardy,  E.  F.  Benson.  William  Watson,  Henry 
Newbolt,  and  Andrew  Lang.     From  France:     Paul  Verlaine,  among  others. 


8oo  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Among  American  contributors  were: 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich,  Alice  Brown,  Gertrude  Hall,  Richard  Hovey, 
Louise  Chandler  Moulton,  Gilbert  Parker,  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts,  Clinton 
ScoUard,  Louise  Imogen  Guiney,  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson,  Maria 
Louise  Pool,  Richard  Henry  Stoddard,  Richard  Burton,  Madison  Cawein, 
Eugene  Field,  Julian  Hawthorne,  H.  H.  Boyesen,  Clyde  Fitch,  Wallace  Rice, 
Hamlin  Garland,  Hamilton  Wright  Mabie,  Maurice  Thompson,  John  Vance 
Cheney,  Lillian  Bell,  John  Burroughs,  Stephen  Crane,  John  Fox,  Jr.,  Henry 
James,  Clinton  Ross,  Charles  F.  Lummis,  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  George 
W.  Cable,  Alice  Morse  Earle,  Brander  Matthews,  Octave  Thanet,  Tudor 
Jenks,  Joseph  Pennell,  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin,  Paul  Laurence  Dunbar,  J.  J. 
Piatt,  Ruth  McEnery  Stuart,  George  Edward  Woodberry,  R.  W.  Chambers, 
L.  E.  Gates,  John  Jay  Chapman,  Norman  Hapgood,  Gerald  Stanley  Lee, 
John  Kendrick  Bangs,  and  Joel  Chandler  Harris. 

That  their  writings  would  find  place  alongside  of  those  of  such 
a  company  from  America  and  England  was  a  spur  to  ambitious 
young  writers  in  Chicago  and  the  West,  who  found  in  the 
Chap-Book  a  medium  which  was  suited  to  the  virility  and  inde- 
pendence of  their  westernism,  but  at  the  same  time  was  so  cosmo- 
politan an  exponent  of  literary  expression  from  various  parts  of 
the  world  as  to  make  for  the  broadening  of  their  striving  toward 
artistic  expression.  Among  the  Americans  listed  above  not  a 
few  did  some  of  their  first  work  for  the  Chap-Book.  In  Chicago 
Mr.  Stone  solicited  manuscripts  not  only  from  amateur  literary 
workers,  such  as  Edith  Wyatt  then  was,  but  also  asked  news- 
paper men  to  write  for  the  Chap-Book  with  special  attention  to 
form  of  expression.  Among  others  of  whom  he  asked  manu- 
scripts were  George  Ade  and  Finley  Peter  Dunne.  Wallace  Rice 
wrote  many  clever  critiques  for  the  periodical. 

The  artists  and  literary  workers  of  Chicago,  who  had  grown 
to  be  quite  a  group,  well  defined  through  World's  Fair  influ- 
ences, were  soon  rallied  around  the  Chap-Book.  A  series  of 
"Chap-Book  teas"  drew  them  to  Mr.  Stone's  publishing-ofiice, 
to  look  at  originals  of  drawings  and  manuscripts,  to  talk  shop, 
and  in  general  to  promote  sociability  in  the  professional  literary 
and  art  crowd.  Incidentally  the  "Chap-Book  teas,"  which  were 
followed  by  meetings  of  the  "Attic  Club,"  set  the  copy  for  the 
meetings   of   the   "Little   Room,"   an   organization   of  creative 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  8oi 

writers,  artists,  and  musicians  who  at  present  gather  fortnightly 
at  a  studio  in  the  Fine  Arts  Building,  and  by  the  very  coming  to- 
gether of  the  artist  class  for  a  social  hour  or  two  foster  profes- 
sional literary  and  artistic  endeavor. 

"Chap-Book  posters"  were  one  of  the  unique  artistic  products 
put  out  by  the  publisher  of  this  unique  magazine.  These  posters 
were  sent  to  the  news-stands,  and  influenced  buyers  of  periodicals 
so  that  sales  ran  up  as  high  as  50,000,  and  averaged  20,000. 
The  posters  were  so  artistic  and  so  fantastic  that  they  became 
very  popular  on  their  own  account.  Harper's  posters,  by  Pen- 
field,  had  previously  attracted  attention.  But  there  was  a  rage 
for  Chap-Book  posters,  and  prospective  readers  often  competed 
in  keen  bidding  for  them  w^ithout  buying  the  periodical  they 
were  intended  to  advertise.  Through  making  many  of  these 
posters.  Will  Bradley  helped  himself  toward  achieving  a  national 
reputation. 

But  in  a  short  time  the  Chap-Book  no  longer  stood  out  as  a 
unique  literary  periodical.  The  force  of  imitation  was  soon 
manifest.  Mr.  Stone  says  that  at  one  time  there  were  twenty-six 
imitators  of  it  at  the  news-stalls.  A  disinterested  investigator, 
Frederick  Winthrop  Faxon,  of  the  Bulletin  of  Bibliography, 
Boston,  compiled  "A  Bibliography  of  Modern  Chap-Bod<s  and 
Their  Imitators,"  which  was  first  published  in  the  journal  with 
which  he  is  connected,  and  republished  in  1903  as  a  pamphlet 
under  the  title  Ephemeral  Bibelots.  He  lists  200  such  periodi- 
cals, and  in  his  introduction  says,  in  part : 

The  small  artistically  printed  periodicals  variously  called  Chap- Books, 
Ephemerals,  Bibelots,  Brownie  Magazines,  Fadazines,  Magazettes,  Freak  Maga- 
zines, owe  their  origin  probably  to  the  success  of  The  Chap-Book,  which 
was  at  once  in  such  great  demand  that  the  early  numbers  were  soon  out  of 
print  and  were  in  demand  by  collectors  at  from  twenty  to  fifty  times  their 
original  price.  All  sorts  of  "little  magazines"  were  soon  on  the  news-stands, 
competing  for  a  part  of  The  Chap-Book's  favor.  They  were,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, easily  distinguishable  by  their  appearance  as  well  as  by  their  names, 
which  were  apparently  carefully  chosen  to  indicate  the  ephemeral  character 
of  the  publication. 

The  motive  of  publication  of  the  genuine  chap-books  is  hard  to  discover. 
They  sprang  up  in  the  most  out-of-the-way  spots  and  died  young  in  most 


8o2  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

cases.  Of  the  first  generation  we  still  have  with  us  only  the  Little  Journeys 
(December,  1894),  now  in  its  second  form;  Bibelot  (January,  1895);  Philis- 
tine (June,  189s);  and  the  Philosopher  (January,  1897),  now  in  its  third 
size. 

Many  of  these  bibelots  seem  to  have  resulted  from  the  desire  of  ambi- 
tious, unknown  writers  to  reach  a  supposedl}'  large  waiting  public,  which 
could  not  be  reached  through  the  established  magazines,  either  because  the 
author  could  not  get  his  manuscript  accepted,  or  because  the  readers  he  wished 
to  reach  were  not  among  the  subscribers  to  the  older  monthlies  and  quarter- 
lies. This  is  but  our  humble  guess  as  to  cause  of  birth;  but  lack  of  support, 
or  unwillingness  on  the  part  of  the  editor  to  be  the  only  support,  caused  the 
untimely  (?)  death  of  the  majority.  In  1898  the  race  had  almost  all 
died  off. 

The  Chap-Book,  in  a  valedictory  review  of  its  career  and 
influence,  said: 

Its  habits  of  free  speech  produced  a  curious  movement  among  the  young 
writers  of  the  country.  There  was  scarcely  a  village  or  town  which  did  not 
have  its  little  individualistic  pamphlet  frankly  imitating  the  form  and  tone 
of  the  Chap-Book. 

Many  moves  toward  getting  the  Chap-Book  out  of  the  class 
of  ephemerals  and  into  that  of  magazines  firmly  established  on 
a  sound  business  basis  were  made  by  Mr.  Stone  after  settling 
down  to  his  life-work  as  a  publisher  in  Chicago.  One  such, 
made  January  15,  1897,  was  the  abandonment  of  its  small  form, 
for  the  regulation  7^  X4^  inch  magazine  size.  This  change 
robbed  the  magazine  of  an  appearance  which  had  previously 
attracted  attention  to  it  when  it  was  unique,  and  also  proclaimed 
the  fact  that  the  proprietor  was  laying  more  emphasis  on  the 
commercialization  than  on  the  editing  of  the  periodical.  This 
change  did  not  help  sales  and  circulation.  Furthermore,  by  this 
time  the  Chap-Book  had  said  so  many  scorching  things  about 
books  brought  out  by  every  leading  publishing  house  in  America 
that  the  publishers,  from  whom  such  a  journal,  containing  liter- 
ary critiques,  should  naturally  have  received  its  principal  adver- 
tising patronagfe,  tabooed  it.  As  a  bid  for  advertisements  from 
general  magazine  advertisers,  still  another  experimental  change 
in  form  was  made,  February  15,  1898.  The  pages  were  en- 
larged to  the  12X8^   inch  illustrated  weekly  size,  and  extra 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  803 

smooth  paper,  suitable  for  advertisements  containing  half-tones, 
was  used.  But  the  Chap-Book  did  not  secure  much  general 
advertising.  Mr.  Stone  says  one  reason  is  that  it  was  published 
too  far  from  the  seat  of  the  advertising  business — New  York. 
But  a  more  important  reason  is  that  no  effort  to  secure  a  list 
of  annual  subscribers  was  made.  "If  we  had  secured  such  a 
list,  the  Clmp-Book  would  be  alive  today,"  says  Mr.  Stone. 
"News-stand  sales  fluctuate.  A  list  is  needed  in  order  to  get 
advertising  in  off-years." 

The  Chap-Book  died  July  15,  1898.  On  that  date  those  of 
its  readers  who  were  regular  subscribers  received  a  folio  of  fare- 
well.   This  finis  notice  said  in  part : 

It  was  not  felt  necessary  to  continue  the  Chap-Book  longer  to  demon- 
strate that  a  good  literary  magazine  could  be  published  in  the  West  and 
meet  the  critical  approval  of  the  country.  The  Chap-Book  has  never  de- 
pended in  any  special  way  upon  the  West  for  support;  indeed,  it  is  probable 
that,  in  proportion  to  its  size,  Chicago  had  fewer  subscribers  than  any  other 
large  city.  But  the  editors  believe  that  the  critical  standards  of  their  paper 
have  been  kept  as  high  as  would  have  been  possible  either  East  or  West.  They 
believe  that  they  have  been  consistently  honest  in  trying  to  give  to  their 
public  what  seemed  to  them  the  best  writing  they  could  procure,  whether  it 
came  from  new  or  well-known  authors.  They  believe,  furthermore,  that  the 
Chap-Book  has  been  the  strongest  protest  we  have  had  in  America  against 
the  habit  of  promiscuous  overpraise  which  is  threatening  to  make  the  whole 
body  of  American  criticism  useless  and  stultifying. 

Instead  of  the  July  15  issue  of  the  Chap-Book,  the  subscribers  will 
receive  the  issue  of  the  Dial  for  the  same  date.  To  this  latter  journal,  upon 
an  offer  from  its  proprietors,  have  been  transferred  the  subscription  list, 
the  right  to  the  name,  and  the  good-will  of  the  Chap-Book.  It  has  been 
consistently  maintained  by  the  Chap-Book  that  the  Dial  is  in  many  ways 
the  best  purely  critical  journal  in  America,  and  it  is  hoped  that  subscribers 
will  be  pleased  that  their  subscriptions  are  to  be  filled  out  in  this  manner. 

William  Morton  Payne,  a  regular  writer  for  the  Dial,  says 
the  Chap-Book  was  a  fad  which  ran  its  course,  and  that  the  Dial 
then  absorbed  what  was  left  of  it.  He  also  gives  the  authorita- 
tive opinion  that  the  Chap-Book  was  superior  to  any  of  its  imi- 
tators. 

Having  profited  by  experience  with  the  Chap-Book,  Mr. 
Stone  has  been  successful  in  publishing  and  editing  the  House 


8o4  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Beautiful.  This  attractive  monthly  was  one  of  the  first  merito- 
rious periodicals  currently  published  at  Chicago,  and  not  a  trade 
paper,  to  become  established  on  a  business  footing.  One  reason 
given  for  the  suspension  of  the  Chap-Book  was  that  from  a 
business  point  of  view  the  time  and  energy  which  it  took  could 
be  spent  more  profitably  in  attention  to  the  other  interests  ot 
Herbert  S.  Stone  &  Co.,  this  firm  being  engaged  in  bringing  out 
novels  and  other  works,  and  doing  general  publishing.  In  this 
connection  Mr.  Stone's  firm  had  taken  up,  in  September,  1897, 
the  work  of  publishing  the  House  Beautiful,  which  however, 
as  from  the  date  of  its  beginning  in  December,  1896,  was  then 
edited  by  Eugene  Clapp,  a  civil  engineer.  When  Mr.  Clapp 
went  to  Cuba  as  a  lieutenant  of  volunteers  in  the  summer  of 
1898,  Mr.  Stone  became  the  editor.  In  1900  he  sold  his  book- 
publishing  interests  to  Mr.  Melville  E.  Stone,  Jr.,  his  brother, 
and  has  since  conducted  the  House  Beautiful  as  an  individual 
enterprise. 

Avoiding  the  Chap-Book  pitfall,  the  first  effort  of  Mr.  Stone 
has  been  to  secure  a  large  list  of  annual  subscribers.  In  1900 
the  House  Beautiful  had  3,000  regular  subscribers,  and  the 
news-stand  sales  averaged  4,000.  In  1905  the  monthly  circula- 
tion claimed  was  40,000,  and  but  a  small  percentage  of  the  copies 
went  to  others  than  regular  subscribers.  To  offset  the  diffi- 
culty in  securing  income  from  advertising  which  arises  because 
75  per  cent,  of  all  general  advertising  is  placed  by  agencies  in 
New  York,  the  subscription  price  has  been  raised  from  $1  to  $2 
per  year.  In  1904  the  size  of  the  pages  was  enlarged  to  9X12 
inches  so  as  to  provide  more  advertising  space  next  to  single 
columns  of  reading-matter  in  the  back  part. 

The  art  of  interior  decoration  in  the  homes  of  those  who, 
while  having  annual  incomes  of  $8,000,  yet  are  so  located  that 
they  cannot  often  visit  the  metropolitan  stores,  the  art  of  land- 
scai)e  gardening,  and  architecture  for  coimtry  houses  are  the 
topics  of  aesthetic  interest  to  which  the  House  Beautiful  is  de- 
voted. It  contains  little  or  no  fiction,  and  Mr.  Stone's  society 
proclivities  show  results  in  its  character.  But  since  he  writes  or 
rewrites  much  of  its  contents,  the  periodical  is  marked  by  literary 
touches  reminiscent  of  the  ear-marks  of  the  Chap-Book. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  805 

In  mentioning  ephemeral  imitators  of  the  Chap-Book  ap- 
pearing in  the  nineties,  Mr.  Faxon,  in  the  pamphlet  heretofore 
quoted,  says: 

The  Debutante,  The  Little  Cyclist,  The  Mermaid,  and  The  Night-Cap 
were  advertised  to  appear  in  Chicago,  the  first  in  April,  1895,  the  others  in 
March  and  May,  1896,  but  were  probably  never  issued. 

With  a  suggestion  in  its  name  of  the  bright  give-and-take 
of  afternoon  teas,  Four  O'Clock  was  conspicuous  among  the 
original  magazines  expressing  the  attitude  of  certain  literary 
workers,  pen-and-ink  artists,  and  dabblers  in  art  at  Chicago  in 
the  late  nineties.  Its  descriptive  subtitle  proclaimed  it  to  be  "a 
monthly  magazine  of  original  writings,"  and  its  motto  was 
"Sincerity,  beauty,  ease,  cleverness."  Most  of  its  contents  were 
from  Chicago  writers.  Not  all  were  so  original  and  clever,  nor 
so  marked  by  ease  and  beauty  of  style,  as  to  be  of  special  literary 
value,  though  some  had  a  degree  of  merit.  The  "sincerity"  was 
its  expression  of  that  vague  spiritual  quality  known  as  the  artist 
soul.  In  illustrations,  however,  the  periodical  was  original  and 
specially  attractive.  The  reproductions  of  drawings,  done  so  as 
to  give  them  the  effect  of  originals,  appeared  on  leaves  of  special 
texture,  pasted  into  the  magazine.  This  device  gave  the  periodi- 
cal distinctive  aesthetic  values.  Young  artists,  a  majority  of 
them  students  at  the  Art  Institute,  did  most  of  this  illustrating. 
Among  the  illustrators  was  Carl  Wemtz,  who  is  now  the  head  of 
the  Art  Academy,  an  independent  art  school  in  Chicago.  Four 
O'clock  was  started  some  time  after  the  Chap-Book  had  reached 
the  height  of  its  career  in  Chicago.  .  No.  i  was  dated  February, 
1897.  With  the  seventy-first  number,  December  1902,  Four 
O'clock  was  merged  in  Muse,  another  of  the  art-spirit  literary 
periodicals,  which  had  grown  out  of  still  another  called  Phil- 
harmonic. Literary  workers  who  recall  these  magazines  char- 
acterize them  as  dilettante  ephemerals. 

The  Blue  Sky  Magazine,  a  dainty  monthly  booklet  of  letters, 
came  regularly  from  a  Chicago  shop  from  August,  1899,  until 
April,  1902.  In  both  make-up  and  contents  it  was  beautiful  and 
quaint.  This  little  magazine  was  a  literary  exponent  of  the  new 
arts-and-crafts  movement.  It  was  printed  at  "the  house  of  the 
Blue  Sky  Press,"  4732  Kenwood  Avenue,  and.  like  the  books 


8o6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

which  the  "Skytes,"  as  the  publishers  called  themselves,  brought 
out  from  time  to  time,  it  was  hand-set  and  printed  by  hand,  ex- 
quisite in  workmanship.  Most  of  the  numbers  were  the  size  of 
a  book  easily  slipped  into  a  coat  pocket.  It  was  printed  on  deckle- 
edge  paper,  and  each  paragraph  was  indicated  with  a  reversed 
P,  Thomas  Wood  Stevens  and  Alden  Charles  Noble,  poetic 
souls  who  had  been  schooled  in  the  mechanical  part  of  their 
craft  at  Armour  Institute  of  Technology,  were  the  Blue  Sky 
Magazine  publishers,  editors,   and  chief  contributors, 

"Happy  is  the  man  who  ever  sees  the  blue  sky" — so  their 
adopted  motto  ran.  In  an  announcement  of  back  volumes  of 
the  magazine,  books  bound  in  antique  boards,  they  gave  this 
quotation  from  "The  Summer  Sky" : 

So  let  us  mould  the  Spirit  of  our  book :  to  bring  sometimes  the  sound  of 
an  old  chivalric  song  over  star-strewn  waters  tuning  the  Elder  elemental 
note  to  the  sweetest  harmonies  of  the  New. 

Throughout,  the  contents  showed  evidence  of  editing  and  writ- 
ing in  this  spirit.  Verse,  short  stories,  mostly  on  archaic  themes, 
and  two  departments  designated  "Stray  Clouds"  and  "The 
Devil,  His  Stuff,"  being  made  up  of  clever  literary  gossip  by  the 
young  editors,  filled  the  pages.  In  the  verse  some  "Formal 
Measures"  by  Mr.  Stevens,  and  a  series  of  stately  child  rhymes 
by  Mr.  Noble,  received  the  favor  of  critics.  Dr.  Frank  W. 
Gunsaulus,  the  imaginative  pulpit  orator  who  is  president  of 
the  institute  which  the  Blue  Sky  Magazine  editors  had  attended, 
contributed  some  of  his  poetry.  Among  the  tales  was  one  by 
James  Lane  Allen,  entitled  "The  Extraordinary."  An  essay 
on  "The  Poetry  of  William  Morris,"  by  Wallace  Rice,  and  a 
few  lines  in  meter,  entitled  "Brothers,"  by  Mrs.  Elia  W.  Peattie, 
were  written  for  the  April,  1902,  number,  which  proved  to  be 
the  last.  Each  of  the  five  volumes,  except  the  first,  was  beauti- 
fully illustrated  with  symbolic  pen-and-ink  drawings  and  hazy 
wash-work.  Walter  J.  Enright  and  Grace  M.  McClure,  and 
other  Chicago  artists  who  were  then  students  at  the  Art  Insti- 
tute, did  most  of  the  illustrating  for  the  periodical.  Although 
so  attractive  in  its  way,  the  Blue  Sky  Magazine  found  its  con- 
stituency limited  to  a  small  cult.     The  publishers  saw  "glim- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  807 

merings  of  prosperity"  the  second  year,  but  the  magazine  was 
merged  with  another  short-Hved  Chicago  periodical,  Rubric,  "a 
magazine  de  luxe,"  which  the  "Skytes"  said  in  their  adieu  was 
"the  only  purely  literary  and  artistic  magazine  whose  policy  was 
sufficiently  consistent  with  that  of  the  Blue  Sky  to  allow  a 
reasonable  fusion." 

The  Scroll  was  the  name  of  another  periodical,  evidently 
of  this  general  artist-dilettante  group,  which  was  listed  as 
"literary"  in  the  newspaper  annuals  of  1902  and  1903,  when  its 
founding  date  was  given  as  1899;  but  from  the  collections  of 
files  and  the  recollections  of  literary  workers  no  further  informa- 
tion about  it  is  attainable. 

All  of  these  magazines,  with  the  line  of  artist-class  sentiment 
woven  into  their  literary  texture,  may  possibly  be  characterized 
in  a  general  way  as  examples  of  I' Art  Nouveau  in  letters. 

The  cosmopolitan  outlook  given  to  Chicago  by  the  World's 
Columbian  Exposition  stood  out  in  five  or  six  general  magazines 
attempted  in  the  latter  part  of  the  nineties.  In  them  this  aspect 
of  the  social  influences  left  by  the  Fair  was  to  be  seen  more 
clearly  than  in  the  illustrated  and  artistic  journals  which  were 
the  chief  crop  of  the  period.  They  show  that  the  western  cos- 
mopolitanism mentioned  in  the  introductory  paragraphs  of  the 
first  in  this  series  of  papers  on  literary  interests  had  been  reached. 
The  spirit  of  westernism  retained  potency,  but  the  current  idea 
was  that  cosmopolitan  products  could  and  should  come  out  of 
this  western  center. 

A  title  of  purely  cosmopolitan  connotation  had  been  given  to 
no  periodical  started  in  Chicago  in  a  previous  decade.  The  most 
typical  and  significant  of  those  with  the  enlarged  point  of  view 
was  first  issued  in  1896,  and  was  named  the  International.  It 
was  published  much  longer  than  a  majority  of  the  ephemeral 
magazines  of  Chicago. 

The  first  role  which  the  International  took  on  the  publishing 
stage  made  it  unquestionably  a  cosmopolite.  Its  pages  were 
filled  with  translations — described  by  the  magazine  as  "Eng- 
lished"— of  stories  which  had  been  published  in  the  contem- 
porary   literary    periodicals    of    France,     Spain,     Italy,     Ger- 


8o8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

many,  Russia,  Hungary,  and  Japan.  The  theory  of  the  pub- 
Hsher  was  that  the  American  reading  pubHc,  while  made  famiHar 
with  the  pohtics,  crime,  and  superficial  events  of  the  foreign 
countries  through  the  daily  newspapers,  has  no  means  of  know- 
ing the  literature  of  the  nations  as  it  grows  from  month  to 
month.  As  the  Worlds'  Fair  had  spread  before  American  eyes 
the  products  of  the  industrial  arts  of  all  peoples,  so  the  Inter- 
national was  to  lay  before  them  regularly  the  typical  literary 
productions  of  the  times.  It  was  printed  in  regTilar  7X10  inch 
covered  magazine  form,  and  on  supercalendered  instead  of 
coated  paper,  thus  giving  a  medium  for  exceptional  half-tone 
illustrations. 

A  successful  organizer  of  an  industrial  trust,  Mr.  A.  T.  H. 
Brower,  was  the  founder,  editor,  and  publisher  of  the  Inter- 
national. Mr.  Brower  had  been  a  prosperous  business  man  in 
the  printing-press  and  type-founders'  trade  at  Chicago  for  many 
years,  and  in  1892,  during  the  first  period  of  the  industrial  con- 
solidations, had  been  the  promoter  of  the  American  Type- 
Founders'  Company,  which  includes  all  the  leading  type-found- 
ing concerns  in  the  country.  He  was  its  secretary  and  manager 
until  1894,  when  he  retired  from  active  participation  in  its 
affairs,  though  retaining  a  place  on  the  directorate.  As  a  mature 
business  man  of  the  captain-of-industry  type,  going  into  maga- 
zine-publishing at  Chicago,  he  stands  out  in  contrast  with  the 
many  young  men  who,  without  business  experience  and  capital 
have  undertaken  to  establish  periodicals  here.  Being  well  supplied 
with  capital,  Mr.  Brower  went  into  the  venture  confident  that  he 
was  prepared  to  see  it  through  on  a  business  basis.  But  his 
ambition  was  also  spiced  with  local  pride.  A  man  of  general 
culture,  born  in  New  York,  but  proud  of  his  place  as  a  Chi- 
cagoan,  Mr.  Brower  then  said,  as  he  repeats  today : 

Chicago  is  called  "Porkopolis."  But  there  is  as  much  culture  in  pro- 
portion to  population  here  as  anywhere.  Chicago  as  well  as  New  York 
ought  to  have  successful  literary  magazines. 

One  experiment  after  another  was  tried  by  him  in  the  deter- 
mination to  make  the  International  successful.  An  entire  year 
was  taken  for  preliminary  preparations  for  No.  i  of  Vol.  I.    To 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  809 

secure  the  stories  from  the  various  nations,  Mr,  Brower  carried 
on  a  correspondence  with  magazine-publishers  all  over  the  world, 
made  arrangements  under  the  various  copyright  regulations,  and 
secured  the  services  of  skilled  translators  residing  at  different 
places  in  America.  He  estimated  that  the  market  for  the  Inter- 
national's presentation  of  foreign  literary  products  should  be 
found  among  50,000  cultured  people  of  this  country.  But  only 
1,500  became  interested  enough  to  send  annual  subscriptions  to 
the  magazine.  A  lack  of  support  from  Chicago  and  the  Missis- 
sippi valley  was  particularly  discouraging  to  the  publisher,  since 
Dr.  Albert  Shaw,  editor  of  the  Review  of  Reviews,  had  told 
him  that  two-thirds  of  that  magazine's  constituency  was  in  this 
section.  The  unique  character  of  the  International  called  out  a 
sporadic  circulation  in  nineteen  nations.  But  that  did  not  help 
much.  After  a  year  and  a  half  the  translations  were  discontin- 
ued. An  "International  Register"  of  Americans  going  abroad 
was  next  introduced  as  a  leading  feature  of  the  magazine.  This 
was  a  list  of  names  of  travelers  and  tourists  classified  by  states. 
But  the  pains  required  for  compiling  it  were  too  great  to  make 
this  experiment  anything  but  costly.  Then  after  the  Spanish- 
American  War,  when  there  were  signs  of  interest  in  the  Spanish 
tongue,  a  novel  scheme  for  teaching  modern  languages  was  un- 
dertaken. Lesson  in  Spanish  were  outlined  in  the  magazine. 
Graphophones  and  cylinders  for  use  in  a  sort  of  mechanical  con- 
versational method  of  self-education  were  offered  for  sale  to 
subscribers.  But  few  of  them,  however,  took  interest  in  grapho- 
phone  Spanish,  and  contemplated  magazine  lessons  in  German  and 
French  were  not  given  by  the  International.  Travel-letters  writ- 
ten by  American  visitors  to  out-of-the-way  places,  and  general 
travel-notes  by  the  editor,  were  published  in  all  stages  of  the 
experiments  with  the  magazine.  Toward  its  end,  when  the 
price  per  copy  had  been  reduced  to  ten  cents,  Mr.  Brower,  in 
the  hope  of  alluring  the  masses,  inserted  trashy,  popular  stories 
of  a  kind  in  which  he  had  no  personal  interest. 

In  seeking  advertising  this  Chicago  business  man  found  that 
other  Chicago  business  men  had  the  same  sentiment  he  had  about 
a  Chicago  magazine,  but  that  they  did  not  have  advertising  to 


8lO  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

place  in  such  a  medium — at  least  until  he  could  show  a  circulation 
of  15,000.  At  one  time  in  the  first  eighteen  months  the  magazine 
was  nearly  self-supporting,  and  it  is  conceivable  that  if  the 
original  character  derived  from  the  translations  had  been  main- 
tained the  Internatiotml  might  have  found  a  permanent  place  for 
itself.  Mr.  Brower  sunk  $10,000  a  year  in  it  for  six  years,  and 
in  July,  1 901,  discontinued  experimenting.     Today  he  says: 

To  publish  a  literary  magazine,  three  things  are  needed:  business  sense, 
literary  sense,  and  money — and  the  business  sense  must  be  that  of  the 
publishing  business. 

The  influence  of  the  University  of  Chicago  upon  the  literary 
interests  of  the  city,  during  the  fifteen  years  in  which  the  uni- 
versity has  been  one  of  the  institutions  of  the  community,  has 
grown  to  be  great.  At  the  present  time  it  is  to  be  seen  in  many 
directions,  and  is  recognized  as  specially  direct  in  one  of  the 
general  magazines  published  in  the  city.  From  the  day  the  uni- 
versity opened  its  doors,  its  potential  influences  were  regarded 
by  men  down-town  as  including  a  new  force  for  development 
of  literary  activity.  In  1893,  when  the  professors  and  students 
on  its  quadrangles  were  living  in  a  university  atmosphere  vibrant 
with  the  noise  of  natives  of  foreign  lands  which  came  to  the 
campus  from  beyond  the  fence  of  the  Midway  Plaisance,  the 
university's  unofficial  sanction  was  sought  for  Current  Topics, 
a  magazine  begun  in  that  year  by  a  promoter  of  certain  business 
schemes  named  David  Wever,  who  had  a  publishing  office  for 
the  p)eriodicals  in  the  Masonic  Temple.  Mr.  Wever,  as  both  editor 
and  publisher,  endeavored  to  give — and,  judging  from  the  recol- 
lections of  down-town  literary  workers,  and  also  from  those  of 
some  members  of  the  faculties,  succeeded  in  giving — the  im- 
pression that  the  magazine  had  some  sort  of  University  of  Chi- 
cago sanction.  The  publishing  of  contributions  from  the  pro- 
fessors and  students  of  the  university  was  the  method  followed 
in  giving  this  impression.  These  were  articles  in  the  more  serious 
vein  of  literary  criticism,  and  helpyed  greatly  to  fill  the  eighty- 
four  pages  in  the  rather  solid-appearing  journal  printed  in  the 
regular  magazine  form,  and  bound  in  a  heavy  blue  cover.  Not 
only  contributions  written  especially  for  it,  but  also  papers  pre- 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  8ii 

pared  for  other  purposes,  were  solicited  for  the  magazine.  One 
of  the  most  notable  contributions  was  an  article  on  Taine  by 
Professor  Paul  Shorey,  Ph.D.,  head  of  the  department  of  the 
Greek  language  and  literature  at  the  University.  For  a  time, 
Dr.  Edwin  H.  Lewis,  now  professor  of  literature  at  Lewis  In- 
stitute, then  an  assistant  in  rhetoric  on  the  University  of  Chi- 
cago faculty  in  the  department  of  English,  was  active,  not  only 
in  contributing  to  Current  Topics,  but  in  securing  contributions 
for  the  magazine  from  other  university  men.  Soon,  however, 
it  was  discovered  that  the  publisher  did  not  carry  out  his  agree- 
ments to  pay  for  the  contributions  he  readily  accepted,  and  that 
the  university  men  were  being  used  to  give  prestige  to  a  maga- 
zine which  was  part  of  an  advertising  device  for  selling  pianos. 
The  university  authors  discontinued  contributing,  and  it  is  al- 
leged that  the  man  who  was  a  magazine-publisher  for  a  time  still 
owes  some  of  them  for  the  serious  work  they  did  for  his  periodi- 
cal. The  name  of  the  magazine  was  changed  to  the  Chicago  Mag- 
azine of  Current  Topics,  and  later  to  Chicago  Magazine.  It  went 
out  of  existence  in  1895,  having  been  published  for  about  two 
years.  Dr.  Lewis  is  of  the  opinion  that  the  history  of  Current 
Topics  has  no  more  significance  in  the  consideration  of  the  literary 
interests  of  Chicago  than  any  advertising  scheme  has.  It  appears 
to  have  been  an  example  of  the  engraftment  of  interests,  with 
a  considerable  element  of  plain  graft  involved. 

A  University  of  Chicago  student  from  the  West,  Frank  Bur- 
lingame  Harris,  who  became  a  Chicago  newspaper  man,  under- 
took the  establishing  of  a  general  magazine  in  1898.  Mr.  Har- 
ris was  a  friend  of  Opie  Read,  Forrest  Crissey,  and  other  literary 
workers  in  the  Press  Club  ranks.  He  rejected  the  name  Ro- 
mantic Life,  suggested  to  him  for  the  periodical  by  Mr.  Read, 
and  christened  it,  after  the  lake  at  the  southern  border  of  the 
city,  the  Calumet,  thus  giving  the  journal  a  name  intended  to 
connote  the  western  romantic  sentiment.  Mr.  Harris  started  by 
inserting  more  essays  than  stories.  But  two  numbers  were  pub- 
lished. Mr.  Harris  had  undertaken  the  enterprise  almost  with- 
out capital — a  lack  which  literary  sentiment  could  hardly  offset. 

Carter's  Monthly  was  a  general  story  magazine  begun  in 


8l2  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

1898  by  a  printer  named  John  Carter,  who  came  to  Chicago 
from  Streator,  111.  An  advertisement  of  Carter's  Monthly,  ap- 
pearing in  Arts  for  America,  announced  one  policy  in  keeping 
with  a  trend  in  publishing  during  the  World's  Columbian  Expo- 
sition decade;  namely,  that  the  magazine  would  contain  repro- 
ductions of  192  paintings  by  famous  masters.  Opie  Read  per- 
mitted the  use  of  his  name  as  editor.  A  serial  by  John  McGovem 
was  extensively  advertised.  Within  a  few  months,  however. 
Carter  dropped  the  stories  and  devoted  the  bulk  of  his  space  to 
laudatory  articles  concerning  some  of  the  department  stores. 
Mr,  Read  says  that  he  then  endeavored  to  have  his  name  re- 
moved from  the  head  of  the  page  containing  the  table  of  con- 
tents in  the  j>eriodical,  but  in  vain.  By  the  end  of  a  year, 
however,  the  local  write-ups  had  brought  Carter's  Monthly  to  a 
deserved  death. 

Literary  efforts  and  temperance  news  were  used  in  con- 
coction of  an  oddity  among  the  periodicals  put  out  at  Chicago 
in  the  nineties.  This  queer  paper  was  named  the  Banner  of 
Gold.  It  was  started  with  the  support  of  several  of  the  "old 
guard"  of  literary  newspaper  men  belonging  to  the  Press  Club — 
"good  fellows"  who  in  more  ways  than  that  of  writing  had  un- 
fortunately followed  the  example  of  "Bobbie"  Bums,  Having 
been  at  Dwight,  111.,  under  the  care  of  Dr,  Leslie  E,  Keeley, 
some  of  these  men  were  enrolled  as  members  of  "The  Bichloride 
of  Gold  Club  of  America."  They  conceived  the  idea  that  the 
reading  world  should  be  informed  on  the  merits  of  Dr.  Keeley's 
uses  for  bichloride  of  gold,  and  that  news  along  this  line  could 
be  best  set  off  with  sparkling  gems  of  new  literature,  fresh  and 
pure  as  prairie  dewdrops.  Further,  it  was  expected  that  the 
journal  would  prove  to  be  an  outlet  for  the  excitements  of  re- 
newed literary  activity.  When  the  first  weekly  number  appeared, 
February  10,  1892,  Charles  Eugene  Banks,  a  newspaper  writer 
and  poet,  who  has  written  a  great  deal  of  verse,  some  of  which 
touches  the  heart  like  that  of  Riley,  and  also  is  marked  by  beauty 
in  the  use  of  word  and  meter,  was  the  editor.  An  outpouring  of 
rhymed  enthusiasm  from  his  pen,  appearing  at  the  top  of  the 
first  column  in  the  first  number,  contained  the  following: 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  813 

Then  down  with  the  grinning  old  skull  of  despair; 
In  the  army  of  hope  we're  enrolled. 
From  ice-berg  to  palm-tree  fling  free  to  the  air 
The  banner  "Bichloride  of  Gold." 

For  some  time  the  periodical  was  chiefly  literary,  and  was  a 
medium  for  stories  and  verse  used  by  a  considerable  group  of 
Chicago  men  engaged  in  a  fair  order  of  literary  endeavor. 
Among  the  contributors  to  early  numbers  were  Opie  Read, 
Stanley  Waterloo,  George  Horton,  John  McGovern,  and  William 
Lightfoot  Visscher;  and  the  paper  secured  a  following  among 
readers  interested  only  in  the  part  of  its  contents  which  were  of 
a  literary  nature.  But  after  a  few  months  some  of  the  writers 
who  had  been  members  of  the  "Bichloride  of  Gold  Club"  sur- 
rendered their  membership,  and  the  periodical,  which  is  still  pub- 
lished as  a  monthly  organ  for  the  gold-cure,  lost  entirely  its 
literary  admixture. 

In  1893,  when  socio-economic  congresses  were  held  in  con- 
nection with  the  World's  Fair,  a  magazine  designed  to  give  a 
popular  presentation  of  social  and  political  questions,  but  in  such 
a  form  as  compared  with  newspaper-writing  that  it  was  rated  as 
literary,  was  begun.  It  bore  the  name  New  Occasions.  The 
first  editor,  B,  F.  Underwood,  was  succeeded  by  Frederick  Up- 
ham  Adams,  who  is  today  a  general  magazine  and  newspaper 
syndicate  writer  on  these  subjects.  In  1897  New  Occasions 
was  merged  in  Nezv  Time,  of  which  Mr.  Adams,  at  Chicago,  and 
B.  O.  Flower,  at  Boston,  were  the  joint  editors.  Mr.  Flower 
was  the  founder  of  the  Arena,  and  had  a  large  personal  follow- 
ing. The  July,  1897,  number  said  "Chicago-Boston"  in  its  im- 
print, and  mentioned  a  union  of  West  and  East.  But  in  April, 
1898,  Mr.  Flower  sent  his  valedictory,  in  which  he  said:  "For 
some  time  I  have  felt  it  impossible  to  perform  the  duties  of 
senior  editor  in  a  manner  satisfactory  to  myself,  while  living 
1,000  miles  from  the  office  of  publication."  Mr.  Adams  contin- 
ued editing  the  magazine  and  writing  for  it,  particularly  in  op- 
position to  the  existing  money  system,  declaring  that  it  was  his 
ambition  "to  aid  in  the  founding  of  a  magazine  on  the  rock  of 
economic  truth."  In  June,  1898.  he  complained  that  only  about 


8l4  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

$3,200  in  small  amounts,  received  from  all  over  the  United 
States,  had  been  paid  in  for  capital  stock,  and  pleaded  for  public 
subscriptions,  not  only  for  the  periodical,  but  also  for  its  stock. 
However,  a  file  in  the  Chicago  Public  Library  shows  no  copies 
of  a  date  later  than  the  one  containing-  that  appeal. 

Self-Culture  and  Progress,  both  brought  out  at  Chicago  in 
1895,  were  two  literary  magazines  of  the  home-study  type, 
which  will  be  given  further  mention  in  the  part  of  the  next  paper 
tracing  one  of  the  lines  of  development  incidentally  influential  in 
leading  to  the  establishment  of  The  World  To-Day,  the  most 
important  of  the  Chicago  magazines  of  the  present  decade. 

An  unusual  use  of  the  story  form  in  a  periodical  with  a  slight 
educational  bias  was  made  in  Historia,  a  monthly  magazine 
published  in  Chicago  for  two  years  prior  to  the  financial  crash  of 
1893.  Accounts  from  the  histories  of  the  leading  nations,  re- 
written in  romantic  style  for  boys  and  girls  between  the  ages  of 
twelve  and  twenty,  were  printed  in  this  periodical.  Using  ten 
norns  de  plume,  Fred  B.  Cozzens,  a  young  man  who  as  a  student 
at  Northwestern  University  had  been  specially  interested  in 
history,  and  who  had  also  done  some  editorial  page  work  for  an 
afternoon  daily,  performed  single-handed  all  of  the  duties  of 
contributor,  editor,  and  publisher.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
general  interest  in  history  aroused  by  plans  for  the  exposition 
commemorating  the  discovery  of  America  had  some  influence  in 
leading  Mr.  Cozzens  to  undertake  Historia.  His  magazine  was 
illustrated  with  zinc-etching  reproductions  of  pictures  from  old 
histories  not  copyrighted,  and  with  some  sketches  by  John  T. 
McCutcheon,  the  cartoonist.  At  one  time  Historia  had  a  circu- 
lation of  8,000  including  many  subscribers  among  school  chil- 
dren who  used  the  magazine  for  supplementary  reading.  But 
Mr.  Cozzens  possessed  little  capital,  although  he  is  now  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  successful  type-setting  business,  and  his  credit  was 
taken  away  with  the  failure  of  a  bank  which  had  backed  him  in 
the  Historia  venture.  He  turned  the  magazine  over  to  a  mail- 
order jeweler,  who  soon  got  into  trouble  with  the  postoffice  de- 
partment by  publishing  his  entire  catalogue  in  the  advertising 
pages  of  the  periodical. 


THE  LITERARY  INTERESTS  OF  CHICAGO  815 

A  visit  to  the  World's  Columbian  Exposition  led  Claude 
King,  the  editor  and  publisher  of  Sports  Afield,  an  interesting 
magazine  which  he  had  built  up  at  Denver  from  a  small  begin- 
ning with  a  sportsmen's  newspaper,  founded  in  1887,  to  remove 
his  headquarters  to  Chicago  in  1893.  As  a  New  York  printer 
who  had  learned  his  trade  while  an  apprentice  of  the  Harper  firm, 
Mr.  King,  ever  since  moving  to  the  West,  had  been  a  faithful 
reader  of  the  New  York  Sun.  From  that  paper's  pungent  para- 
graphs he  had  gained  the  impression  that  Chicago  and  its  World's 
Fair  were  jokes.  But  Mr.  King,  who  still  publishes  his  maga- 
zine for  a  constituency  of  about  300,000  subscribers,  says  that 
seeing  Chicago  and  the  "White  City"  so  impressed  him  that  he 
at  once  decided  to  move  from  a  center  of  influence  for  a  part  of 
the  West  to  the  metropolis  of  the  entire  section  known  as  the 
West.  Sports  Afield,  of  which  half  the  contents  are  short 
stories  of  outdoor  experiences  designed  to  be  purely  entertain- 
ing, and  half  are  articles  on  natural  history  and  scientific  sub- 
jects intended  to  be  instructive,  is  a  magazine  well  calculated  to 
interest  typical  western  men  and  boys  in  the  towns  and  villages 
and  sparsely  settled  localities.  Although  of  but  mediocre  literary 
quality,  its  written  contents,  supplemented  by  illustrations,  are 
of  direct  appeal  to  the  aesthetic  interest.  Two-thirds  of  the  mag- 
azine's revenues  are  derived  from  subscriptions,  which  is 
unusual.  The  circulation  was  built  up  in  the  old-fashioned  way 
of  personal  visits  by  the  editor.  In  largest  part,  the  magazine 
goes  to  the  Northwest.  Mr.  King  makes  the  comment  that  the 
people  of  the  Southwest,  while  having  a  like  interest  in  its  con- 
tents to  that  of  those  in  the  Northwest,  are  not  "businessfied," 
are  reluctant  to  subscribe,  and  when  they  do  give  subscription 
orders  forget  to  remit  payments. 

Besides  the  phases  of  periodical  publishing  at  Chicago  in  the 
nineties,  shown  in  this  paper,  there  was  also  a  large  increase  in  the 
number  of  papers  in  the  mail-order  grade  of  sc^-called  literary 
periodicals.  As  practically  all  of  these  "family-story"  papers 
started  in  the  nineties  still  prosper,  this  development  in  that 
period  will  be  treated  in  the  paper  which  is  to  follow  on  the 
periodicals  of  the  present  decade. 


8l6  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  statistics  compiled  for  this  series  of  papers  show  that 
70  of  the  306  hterary  periodicals  of  all  types  started  in  Chicago 
were  begun  in  the  World's  Fair  decade.  Of  this  number,  23  per 
cent,  were  illustrated ;  1 1  per  cent,  were  devoted  to  the  fine  arts ; 
9  per  cent,  were  of  the  quaint  and  curious  artist-class  literary 
type;  19  per  cent.,  of  the  unqualified  literary  type;  7  per  cent., 
of  the  literary  information  variety;  and  23  per  cent.,  of  the 
family-story  grade.  The  percentages  for  those  of  other  types 
were  small.  Twenty-nine  per  cent,  belonged  to  more  than  one 
classification,  especially  those  classed  as  illustrated.  Those  pub- 
lished monthly  numbered  56,  and  the  weeklies  but  9,  in  contrast 
with  41  monthlies  and  25  weeklies  in  the  eighties.  But  many  of 
the  monthlies  were  in  journal  form,  the  total  of  weeklies  and 
monthlies  in  this  form  being  47,  while  20  appeared  in  regulation 
magazine  form.  Twenty-seven  of  the  70  lived  but  a  year  or 
less,  and  only  9  of  the  number  begun  in  the  nineties  are  still 
published. 


MUNICIPAL  ACTIVITY  IN  BRITAIN 


T.   D.  A.   COCKERELL 
University  of  Colorado 


I  Spent  the  summer  of  1904  in  my  native  country,  England, 
after  an  absence  of  about  thirteen  years.  One  who  returns  thus, 
after  a  considerable  interval,  is  perhaps  in  a  better  position  to 
appreciate  the  progress  of  affairs  than  a  total  stranger,  on  the 
one  hand,  or  a  permanent  resident  on  the  other.  It  gives  one  a 
curious  sensation  to  walk  the  streets,  and  realize  that  the  boys 
and  girls  now  on  their  way  to  school  were  not  even  bom  when 
one  last  passed  that  way.  Yet  the  old  familiar  scenes  have  not 
lost  their  character,  and  some  of  the  older  men  seem  hardly  to 
have  changed.    England  is  England  still,  and  yet 

In  those  bygone  days,  the  ghosts  of  which  so  strangely 
mingle  with  the  present,  we  used  to  assemble  in  the  little  hall — 
originally  a  stable — at  Kelmscott  House,  overlooking  the 
Thames  at  Hammersmith.  Every  Sunday  evening  the  Socialist 
League  met  there,  and  a  small  audience  listened  while  William 
Morris,  Bernard  Shaw,  or  some  other  ardent  radical  set  forth 
the  promise  of  a  new  and  better  time.  I  remember  very  well 
the  arrival  of  Stepniak  from  Russia,  and  the  amusement  we  got 
out  of  the  hysterical  leader  one  of  the  daily  papers  published 
thereupon.  A  strange  man  with  a  large  beard,  sitting  quietly  in 
the  audience,  was  pointed  out  one  evening — it  was  none  other 
than  Kropotkin.  Then  John  Bums  came  down,  and  explained 
to  us  that,  physically  speaking,  it  was  better  to  go  to  prison  than 
to  the  workhouse.  There  was  the  veteran  Craig,  the  hero  of 
Ralahine,  who  could  not  refrain  from  expounding  his  views  of 
phrenology,  which  interested  us  much  less  than  his  Irish  experi- 
ences. There  was  Sparling,  and  Tochatti.  and  Mordhurst;  and 
occasionally  we  saw  Walter  Crane  or  Edward  Carpenter;  while 
Emery  Walker,  the  secretary,  was  always  present  and  helped,  not 
talking  so  much  as  some,  but  getting  things  done. 

817 


8i8  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Today  the  place  is  shut  up.  Morris  is  dead;  Bernard  Shaw, 
they  tell  me,  has  become  positively  respectable;  Burns  may  at 
any  moment  become  a  cabinet  minister;^  and,  in  short,  the  game 
is  played  out,  so  far  as  superficial  appearances  show.  There  is 
practically  no  socialist  propaganda  in  London  today,  I  am  told; 
and  as  for  the  Clarion,  the  weekly  socialist  paper,  it  seems  to  be 
a  success,  but  it  is  a  pallid  thing  compared  with  our  little  Com- 
monweal, which  I  used  to  sell  for  a  penny  at  street  corners  and 
political  meetings.  Well,  it  could  not  have  been  otherwise.  A 
rose  does  not  bloom  forever,  and  he  who  would  sow  seed  must 
be  content  to  lose  sight  of  it  for  a  while. 

What,  then,  is  the  most  vital,  aggressive  movement  in  this 
present-day  England?  It  is,  I  think,  this  same  socialism,  only 
under  a  different  form.  The  old  idea  of  changing  everything  by 
means  of  a  sudden  revolution  was  finally  given  up,  even  by  Mor- 
ris himself;  and  while  there  may  yet  come  revolts  and  blood- 
shed, it  is  wonderful  to  see  the  progress  that  has  been  made,  and 
is  likely  to  be  made,  quietly,  rationally,  and,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
with  astonishingly  little  friction. 

Having  freely  confessed  my  leanings  in  this  matter,  I  am 
glad  to  be  able  to  support  my  statements  from  the  other  side. 
The  Times,  in  the  latter  part  of  1902,  published  a  series  of 
articles  by  an  anonymous  writer,  and  republished  them  as  a 
pamphlet,  with  the  title  Municipal  Socialism.  This  pvamphlet 
("6d.  a  copy,  30.?.  a  hundred,  £  12.  10.?.  a  thousand")  is  intended 
to  be  spread  broadcast,  as  an  awful  warning.  It  is  to  be  recom- 
mended especially  to  Americans,  who  have  a  point  of  view  just 
sufficiently  different  to  enable  them  to  enjoy  the  joke.  It 
appears  that  the  dreadful  socialists  have  even  begun  to  convert 
the  children,  and  at  Glasgow  there  is  a  Socialist  Sunday  School 
Union,  which  brings  out  a  halfpenny  monthly  magazine,  called 
the  Young  Socialist. 

The  Times  writer,  after  stating  that  the  socialists  plan  to 
capture  the  various  administrative  bodies  of  the  country,  goes 
on  to  say : 

^  This  prophecy,  lately  fulfilled,  was  penned  before  the  downfall  of  the 
Balfour  cabinet. — Ed. 


MUNICIPAL  ACTIVITY  IN  BRITAIN  819 

No  one  can  fail  to  be  convinced  of  the  last-mentioned  fact  who  contem- 
plates the  long  list  of  duties,  responsibilities,  and  enterprises  already  under- 
taken by  local  governing  bodies,  coupled  with  the  rage  that  some  among  them 
show  for  municipalizing  practically  everything  that  they  can  get  within  their 
grasp.  Many  of  these  duties  and  responsibilities,  though  hardly  coming 
within  the  range  of  local  government  pure  and  simple,  may  in  themselves  bt 
most  excellent  and  praiseworthy.  But  they  nevertheless  indicate  a  marked 
tendency  to  take  over  obligations,  trades,  and  industries  exactly  on  the 
socialistic  lines ;  .  .  .  .  they  represent,  collectively,  a  rapid  drifting  toward  the 
full  and  complete  realization  of  the  socialist  idea. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Times  writer  has  allowed  his 
fervor  to  carry  him  a  little  beyond  the  limits  of  exact  truth; 
but  he  is  correct  in  regard  to  the  direction  of  the  movement,  if 
not  as  to  its  amount  or  purely  socialistic  character.  The  municipal 
management  of  street-cars,  water-works,  gas,  gardens,  and  even 
houses  has  become  commonplace,  but  that  is  not  nearly  all. 

The  idea  of  providing  sterilized  milk  for  babes  was  started  at  St.  Helens 
a  few  years  ago,  the  corporation  supplying  not  only  the  milk,  but  feeding- 
bottles  as  well,  while  to  each  purchaser  there  were  given  two  nipples,  which 
she  was  required  to  bring  at  intervals  to  the  corporation  milk-store,  so  that 
they  could  be  tested  as  to  their  cleanliness.  Liverpool,  Dukinfield,  York, 
Ashton-under-Lyne,  Belfast,  and  other  towns  have  since  adopted  the  system, 
notwithstanding  protests  which  have  been  raised  in  certain  quarters  that  the 
corporations  were  competing  unfairly  with  the  large  firms  of  milk-dealers. 

It  has  even  been  proposed  that  the  milk  supply  for  adults  should 
also  be  municipalized,  and  this  "may  follow  in  due  course."  The 
municipalization  of  the  liquor  traffic  is  being  much  discussed, 
and  The  Case  for  Municipal  Drink  is  excellently  set  forth  in  a 
little  book  published  in  1904,  written  by  Edward  R.  Pease. 
This  question  of  drink  is  such  a  large  one  that  it  deserves  a  separ- 
ate article;  but  it  is  worth  while  to  note  here  that  much  has 
already  been  accomplished  by  private  or  semi-public  agencies, 
working  in  the  interests  of  the  public.  Mr.  Pease  thus  describes 
the  origin  of  the  Public  House  Trust  Companies : 

The  origin  of  this  most  influential  movement  was  dramatic.  In  1900 
Earl  Grey,  the  owner  of  Broomhall,  a  mining  village  in  Northumberland, 
applied  for  an  additional  license  for  that  village  at  the  desire  of  its  inhabit- 
ants. When  it  was  granted,  he  was  forthwith  offered  £10,000  for  what  he 
had  acquired  "without  spending  a  single  sixpence."     Struck  by  the  iniquity 


820  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  this  transaction,  Earl  Grey  took  up  the  matter  with  extraordinary  vigor. 
Not  content  with  organizing  a  trust  company  for  Northumberland  to  take 
over  this  and  other  licenses,  and  manage  them  for  the  public  benefit,  he  has 
created  a  network  of  county  and  other  companies  already  covering  almost 

every  county  of  England  and  parts  of  Scotland,  Wales,  and  Ireland 

The  companies  themselves,  already  formed  on  a  semi-official  basis,  will  no 
doubt  gladly  transfer  their  undertakings  to  any  elected  authority  authorized 
by  Parliament  to  accept  them.  The  public  spirit  which  animated  the  founder, 
Earl  Grey,  will  assuredly  continue  to  actuate  his  followers. 

The  consideration  of  the  above  case,  and  others  like  it,  shows 
very  well  that  the  fundamental  difference  between  public  and 
private  ownership  is  rather  one  of  motive  on  the  one  hand,  and 
benefit  on  the  other,  than  of  mere  legal  definition.  For  example, 
if  certain  money  or  property,  legally  and  nominally  belonging  to 
the  public,  is  really  used  for  the  private  gain  of  a  political  ring, 
there  is  no  real  public  ownership.  Or  again,  if  money  and  prop- 
erty, legally  and  nominally  belonging  to  some  individual,  are 
used  for  the  benefit  of  the  public,  they  become,  at  least  while  so 
used,  public  property  in  a  very  true  sense.  No  socialist,  even, 
can  suppose  that  at  any  time  all  public  property  will  be  literally 
controlled  equally  by  all  the  citizens;  on  the  contrary,  many 
things,  such  as  machines,  wil  have  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of 
experts,  who  will  have  special  authority  concerning  them,  just 
exactly  as  if  they  owned  them  in  the  ordinary  sense.  This  is 
so  far  true  that  public  and  private  ownership  may  be  looked  on  as 
not  at  all  incompatible,  when  ownership  is  considered  to  be  the 
power  to  use,  not  that  to  barter  away  or  destroy.^  From  this 
standpoint,  in  certain  communities,  a  legally  private  ownership 
might  be  the  only  means  of  bringing  about  a  genuine  public 
ownership ;  for  example,  suppose  that  in  a  certain  city  a  man  had 
a  valuable  collection  of  some  sort,  which  he  desired  to  give  to  the 
public,  but  he  knew  that  the  city  was  controlled  at  that  time  by  a 
corrupt  ring  which  would  undoubtedly  place  an  incompetent 
curator  in  charge,  and  generally  let  the  collection  go  to  ruin. 
The  wise  would-be  donor,  in  such  a  case,  would  undoubtedly 

*  Use-ownership  and  exchange-ownership  (or  use-rights  and  exchange-rights) 
should  be  regarded  separately,  just  as  are  use-value  and  exchange-value.  In  this 
connection  it  is  interesting  to  recall  that  we  consider  it  criminal  voluntarily  to 
part  with  our  lives,  though  they  are  our  own. 


MUNICIPAL  ACTIVITY  IN  BRITAIN  821 

place  his  collection  in  the  hands  of  a  Ix^ard  of  his  own  selection,  or 
retain  it  in  his  own  hands,  in  order  that  it  might  be  properly  cared 
for,  and  really  serviceable  to  the  public.  In  the  light  of  these 
considerations,  many  of  the  differences  between  apparently  op- 
posite policies  may  be  found  to  disappear.  The  promoters  of 
municipal  ownership  should  make  it  clear  that  they  are  after  the 
substance  rather  than  the  legal  shadow  of  it;  and,  in  reply  to 
examples  of  municipal  corruption,  should  answer  that  these 
result,  not  from  public  ownership,  but  from  the  failure  of  the 
public  to  own  that  to  which  it  had  a  legal  right.  Miss  Octavia 
Hill  has  shown  what  a  "private"  landlord  may  do  in  Lx)ndon, 
if  entirely  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  tenants.  Superficially, 
her  results  might  be  held  to  constitute  an  argument  for  the 
private  ownership  of  tenements;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
has  acted  as  a  very  honest  and  efficient  public  servant.  No  doubt 
even  the  socialist  state  could  not  do  better  than  retain  the 
services  of  such  "landlords,"  actuated  by  such  motives! 

The  problem  of  municipal  housing  is  naturally  one  of  the 
most  pressing  in  the  large  cities.  The  London  County  Council 
has  been  and  is  active  in  this  matter,  and  no  doubt  intends  to 
proceed  until  there  is  not  a  slum  within  its  jurisdiction.  I  was 
much  pleased  to  find  stately  municipal  buildings  overlooking  the 
former  site  of  Millbank  Prison,  while  the  large  open  space  be- 
tween the  buildings  and  the  river  was  occupied  by  a  beautiful 
flower-garden  and  a  picture-gallery.  That  garden  is  one  of 
many  such  recently  established  in  London,  and  is  typical  of  the 
aims  of  the  reformers.  When  I  met  Mr.  John  Bums  later,  he 
asked  me  if  I  had  seen  that  garden,  and  showed  by  his  manner 
that  he  thought  it  not  one  of  the  least  useful  things  he  had  helped 
into  being.  It  struck  me  as  highly  significant  that  even  in  the 
sordid  city  so  much  emphasis  should  be  placed  on  the  aesthetic 
side  of  things. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  building  operations  of  the 
London  County  Council  have  gone  forAvard  without  opposition ; 
nor  can  it  be  said  that  all  the  objections  raised  are  meaningless. 
The  very  buildings  just  referred  to  are  objected  to  on  two 
grounds :  they  are  too  tall,  and  otherwise  criticisable  in  respect  to 


822  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

architecture ;  while  they  do  not  house  the  poorer  people  who  were 
dispossessed,  because  these  cannot  afford  to  Hve  in  them.  The  only 
thing  that  can  be  said  about  the  architectural  features  is  that 
the  law  at  present  requires  the  new  houses  to  find  room  for  as 
many  people  as  inhabited  the  old,  and  the  only  way  to  do  this 
and  avoid  overcrowding  is  to  make  tall  buildings.  It  is  admitted 
by  those  who  are  supporters  of  municipal  building  that  the  time 
will  probably  come  when  the  present  structures  will  be  replaced 
by  different  and  more  desirable  ones.  In  the  meanwhile  it  does 
seem  to  me  that  the  Lx>ndon  County  Council  has  done  well,  con- 
sidering the  legal  restrictions,  and  the  difficulty  and  expense  of 
securing  much  land.  With  regard  to  the  dispossessed  poor,  it 
is  argued  that  if  superior  accommodations  are  provided  for  the 
better  class  of  workers,  they  will  vacate  other  premises,  and  so 
there  will  be  a  general  move  upward  all  along  the  line.  This  is 
no  doubt  a  valid  argument,  up  to  a  certain  point;  but  the  slum 
difficulty  will  not  be  overcome  without  more  radical  action  than 
the  council  is  empowered  to  take,  and  it  is  evidently  unreasonable 
to  expect  so  great  an  evil  to  be  removed  at  once. 

Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  deals  with  the  housing  question  at  some 
length  in  his  excellent  little  book,  The  Common  Sense  of  Mu- 
nicipal Trading.  He  compares  the  disadvantages  of  a  munici- 
pality, under  the  present  law,  with  the  freedom  of  private  enter- 
prise, and  the  specific  instances  he  gives  are  worth  citing: 

If  the  obligation  to  rehouse  were  imposed  on  private  and  municipal  enter- 
prise alike,  municipal  housing  would  be  at  no  disadvantage  on  this  point.  But 
commercial  enterprise  is  practically  exempt  from  such  social  obligations. 
Within  recent  years  Chelsea  has  been  transfigured  by  the  building  operations 
of  Lord  Cadogan.  Hundreds  of  acres  of  poor  dwellings  have  been  demolished 
and  replaced  by  fashionable  streets  and  "gardens."  The  politics  of  Chelsea, 
once  turbulently  Radical,  are  now  effusively  Conservative.  The  sites  volun- 
tarily set  aside  by  Lord  Cadogan  for  working-class  dwellings  on  uncom- 
mercial principles  of  public  spirit  and  personal  honor  have  not  undone  the 
inevitable  effects  of  the  transfiguration  of  the  whole  neighborhood.  The  dis- 
placed have  solved  the  rehousing  problem  by  crossing  the  river  into  Battersea. 
Thus  Lord  Cadogan  is  more  powerful  than  the  Chelsea  Borough  Council. 
He  can  drive  the  poorer  inhabitants  out  of  the  borough ;  the  council  cannot. 
He  can  replace  them  with  rich  inhabitants ;  the  council  cannot.  He  can 
build  what  kind  of  house  pays  him  best — mansion,  shop,  stable  or  pile  of 


MUNICIPAL  ACTIVITY  IN  BRITAIN  823 

flats;  the  council  cannot.  Under  such  circumstances  comparison  between  the 
results  of  his  enterprise  and  the  council's  is  idle.  The  remedy  is  either  to 
curtail  Lord  Cadogan's  freedom  until  it  is  no  greater  than  the  council's,  or 
else  to  make  the  council  as  free  as  Lord  Cadogan.  As  the  former  alternative 
would  end  in  nothing  being  done  at  all,  and  rendering  impossible  such  great 
improvements  as  have  been  made  both  in  Chelsea  and  Battersea  by  Lord 
Cadogan's  enterprise,  the  second  alternative — that  of  untying  the  hands  of 
the  ratepayer — is  obviously  the  sensible  one. 

Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  arrives  at  the  conclusion  that  the  housing 
problem  cannot  be  satisfactorily  solved  until  the  municipality 
owns  all  the  land  within  its  boundaries,  and  is  as  free  to  deal 
with  it  as  our  ground  landlords  are  at  present.  In  the  Times 
pamphlet,  already  referred  to,  the  following  passage  is  interest- 
ing: 

At  the  conference  of  the  municipal  representatives  held  at  Glasgow  in 
September,  1901,  to  discuss  the  housing  question  one  of  the  speakers  said: 
"We  don't  want  to  house  everybody;"  whereupon  someone  else  called  out: 
"Why  not?"  These  two  words  sum  up  the  whole  situation  as  the  socialists 
see  it. 

The  street-car  or  tramway  traffic  has  been  taken  up  all  over 
the  country  by  municipalities,  with  great  success.  I  looked  with 
astonishment  on  the  great  suburban  cars  running  out  of  London, 
usually  crowded  with  passengers ;  and  at  Southampton  and  else- 
where I  rode  in  municipal  trams.  Of  course,  even  these  do  not 
fail  to  meet  with  opposition,  particularly  since  they  must  inevi- 
tably interfere  with  the  local  railroad  traffic,  and  with  various  in- 
terests along  the  line.  For  example,  it  has  been  found  that 
when  the  tramways  were  extended  into  certain  neighborhoods 
close  to  great  cities,  people  who  formerly  traded  at  the  local 
stores  would  get  on  the  cars  and  do  their  shopping  in  the  large 
city  establishments,  where  there  was  greater  variety  of  choice, 
and  very  likely  better  prices.  This  sort  of  difficulty,  which  is 
undoubtedly  far  from  imaginary,  is  gravely  cited  as  something 
inherent  in  municipal  enterprise,  as  if  it  did  not  result  from 
private  commercial  enterprise  everywhere !  I  knew  a  storekeeper 
in  New  Mexico  who  vigorously  opposed  the  coming  of  the  rail- 
road, and  quite  rightly  so  far  as  his  own  personal  interests  were 
concerned. 


824  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  Glasgow  tramways  have  often  been  cited  as  especially 
successful,  and  hence  they  are  singled  out  by  the  Times  writer 
for  detailed  criticism.  He  ends  his  remarks  with  gloomy 
prophecy  as  follows : 

When,  in  due  course,  heavy  charges  for  renewals  in  connection  with  the 
tramways  have  to  be  met,  and  the  reserve  funds  are  found  to  be  inadequate 
to  meet  them,  because  the  "profits"  have  been  given  to  the  tramway  users  in 
the  form  of  reduced  fares,  it  is  at  the  risk  of  these  very  ratepayers  that  the 
further  sums  required  will  have  to  be  raised.  The  whole  enterprise  is  a  case 
of  "heads,  the  tramway  patrons  win ;  tails,  the  ratepayers  lose." 

The  writer  of  the  article  cited  is  much  exercised  because 
the  "profits"  of  the  tramway  traffic  do  not  compare  with  those 
he  supposes  a  private  company  might  have  made,  but  he  com- 
plains bitterly  that  the  surplus  money  obtained  was  devoted  to 
improving  the  service  and  reducing  the  fares.  This,  he  says, 
is  favoring  the  tramway  patrons  at  the  expense  of  the  other  rate- 
payers; but  it  does  not  occur  to  him  that  whatever  money  was 
made  above  running  expenses  came  straight  out  of  the  tramway 
patron's  pockets.  As  to  whether  the  sums  set  aside  to  meet 
various  contingencies  are  sufficient,  time  alone  can  show ;  but  the 
article  cited  was  published  in  1902,  and  I  am  indebted  to  Mr. 
John  Bums  for  a  copy  of  the  report  of  the  Glasgow  tramways 
for  the  year  ending  May  31,  1903,  showing  things  to  be  in  an 
ever  more  flourishing  condition  than  heretofore. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  municipal  management  com- 
pletely does  away  with  labor  disputes;  nor  would  it,  I  think,  be 
desirable  that  employees  should  always  be  ready  meekly  to  take 
what  was  given  to  them.  Last  summer  there  was  a  sort  of  con- 
spiracy among  certain  tramway  employees  in  the  London  area, 
to  offer  to  strike  on  the  eve  of  a  bank  holiday,  when  they  well 
understood  that  their  services  could  not  be  dispensed  with  with- 
out heavy  loss  to  the  London  County  Coimcil  and  great  incon- 
venience to  the  public.  They  accordingly  drew  up  a  list  of 
grievances,  some  of  them  not  unreasonable,  and  sent  it  in  when 
the  sittings  of  the  Council  were  over,  and  the  members  were  dis- 
persed everywhere  taking  their  holidays.  This  came  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  Mr.  John  Burns,  and  he  spent  two  whole  days  riding  about 


MUNICIPAL  ACTIVITY  IN  BRITAIN  825 

on  the  cars,  not  saying  much,  but  dropping  a  hint  here  and  there, 
and  effectually  preventing  the  projected  strike.  The  fact  was 
that  the  men  were  in  the  wrong,  and  they  knew  it;  they  knew 
also,  that  whatever  complaints  they  made  would  be  fairly  con- 
sidered when  the  council  met.  Under  such  circumstances  it  re- 
quired only  a  judicious  man  of  known  integrity  to  restore  peace; 
but  it  would  have  been  very  different  if  instead  of  the  county 
council  there  had  been  a  private  company  acting  on  purely  "busi- 
ness" principles.  It  may  also  be  added  that  the  existence  of  such 
men  as  Mr.  Bums  and  many  of  his  colleagues  on  the  council 
shows  that  public  service  is  capable  of  attracting  ability  no  less 
than  private  enterprise.  In  England  such  serv^ice  brings  credit 
and  approval,  and  if  it  also  brings  abuse,  it  cannot  be  said  at  the 
present  day  that  riches  obtained  by  dubious  means  bring  less. 
Putting  the  thing  on  the  plane  of  the  merest  self-interest  and 
self-gratification,  I  do  not  think  John  Burns  would  exchange 
places  with  any  millionaire. 

The  opponents  of  municipal  enterprises  often  make  the  criti- 
cism that  the  councils  grant  conditions  to  their  employees  which 
are  better  than  those  given  by  private  concerns,  and  thereby  rob 
the  ratepayers  in  general  for  the  benefit  of  a  limited  class.  The 
Times  critic  presents  the  following  instance: 

A  firm  of  brass-founders  and  iron-workers  were  invited  by  a  local  body 
to  tender  for  a  certain  article.  It  was  intimated  to  them,  however,  that  it 
would  be  of  no  use  for  them  to  do  so  unless  they  were  paying  to  the  men 
employed  in  making  the  article  the  trade-union  wage  of  35J.  a  week.  In  point 
of  fact,  they  were  not  employing  men  on  the  work  at  all,  but  youths  and  girls, 
who  were  perfectly  well  able  to  do  it,  but  got  a  wage  considerably  lower  than 
that  specified.  The  firm  could  thus  have  afforded  to  send  in  a  low 
tender,  but,  in  the  circumstances,  they  thought  it  useless  to  send  in  any  at 
all;  and  the  presumption  is  that  the  local  authority  in  question  accepted  a 
tender  based  on  the  higher  wage,  and  thus  had  to  pay  a  good  deal  more  for 
the  article  than  the  real  market  price. 

The  answer  to  this  sort  of  criticism  is,  of  course,  perfectly 
obvious.  If  the  ratepayers,  through  their  agents,  see  fit  to  treat 
their  employees  decently,  merely  as  a  matter  of  local  honor  and 
pride,  they  are  surely  not  to  l)e  blamed  for  doing  so,  even  though 
a  minority  may  object.    But,  after  all  why  should  it  be  assumed 


826  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

that  the  lowest  rate  of  wages  is  the  just  one;  is  it  not  possible, 
to  say  the  least,  that  a  low  wage  might  be  the  means  of  fleecing 
a  certain  section  of  employees  (and  ratepayers)  for  the  financial 
gain  of  the  rest?  For  this  sort  of  injustice  our  critic  has  no  con- 
demnation, because  it  is  done  everywhere  in  the  course  of  busi- 
ness. Finally,  from  a  wholly  "business"  point  of  view,  it  may 
pay  a  municipality  very  well  to  pay  its  employees  good  wages, 
when  it  would  not  pay  a  private  establishment.  Tliis  is  because, 
as  Bernard  Shaw  well  points  out,  the  municipality  has  to  take 
care  of  all  its  inhabitants,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave;  and  if 
they  fail  and  get  into  difficulties,  it  has  to  provide  poor-houses 
and  prisons,  police  and  courts,  and  whatever  other  agencies  are 
necessary.  It  also  suffers  from  the  ill-effects  of  one  person  on 
another;  and,  in  fact,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  say  where  the  ad- 
vantages or  disadvantages  arising  from  any  particular  action 
cease.  The  municipality  is  like  a  man  who  cannot  afford  to 
overeat  himself  or  get  drunk,  because  he  will  have  to  suffer 
the  consequences;  but  the  private  trader  can  tickle  his  palate  to 
any  extent,  as  it  were,  because  the  stomach  which  will  be  out- 
raged is  none  of  his. 

The  public-school  idea  is  as  yet  inadequately  developed  in 
England,  and  some  of  the  things  which  seem  like  innovations 
in  that  country,  we  take  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  Times 
writer  says  with  horror  in  his  tones: 

The  children  [of  a  certain  London  district]  have  hitherto  been  cared  for 
in  some  good  schools  at  West  Ham,  but  fresh  schools  are  being  put  up  for 
them  at  Shenfield,  Essex,  at  a  cost  of  over  £200,000.  There  they  will  have 
swimming-baths,  gymnasium,  farm,  and  other  attractions  of  which  even  an 
ordinary  first-class  boarding-school  could  not  boast,  so  that  the  children  of 
the  poor  will  be  far  better  off  than  the  children  of  most  of  the  ratepayers 
who  will  bear  the  cost. 

When  I  was  staying  at  a  place  called  River,  near  Dover,  I 
was  struck  by  the  contrast  between  the  English  school,  which  I 
formerly  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  that  to  which  I 
had  grown  accustomed  in  America.  The  whole  place  had  the  air 
of  poverty,  and  the  children  were  dirty  and  seemed  ill  cared  for. 
They  were,  of  course,  the  children  of  the  "poor ;"  the  well-to-do 


MUNICIPAL  ACTIVITY  IN  BRITAIN  827 

people  on  the  neighboring  hill  sent  their  sons  and  daughters  to 
l3oarding  establishments  for  "young  gentlemen"  and  "young 
ladies."  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  American  public  school  recog- 
nized everywhere  as  a  general  means  of  education,  and  willingly 
supported  even  by  the  least  prc^essive  communities,  marked  an 
advance  in  civilization  the  purport  of  which  could  hardly  be 
exaggerated.  England  will  have  to  get  over  being  scandalized 
at  attempts  made  to  provide  the  best  education  for  the  children 
of  the  "poor,"  no  matter  what  pockets  are  turned  inside  out  to 
find  the  money. 

The  London  County  Council  has  just  taken  over  the  whole 
educational  system  of  London;  and  since  the  schools  are  exces- 
sively numerous  and  greatly  lacking  in  common  standards,  the 
task  of  unifying  everything  and  bringing  it  into  line  with 
modem  requirements  is  a  gigantic  one.  It  is  too  soon,  as  yet, 
to  say  much  about  results;  but  what  is  to  be  said  in  anticipation 
will  be  found  in  a  little  book  by  Mr.  Sidney  Webb,  published,  I 
think,  last  year. 

The  technical  schools  of  the  London  County  Council  have 
been  in  operation  for  some  time,  and  have  met  with  considerable 
success.  My  brother,  Mr.  Douglas  Cockerell,  has  charge  of  the 
bookbinding  classes,  and  from  him  I  was  able  to  learn  much 
about  the  aims  and  scope  of  the  schools.  In  bookbinding,  as  in 
other  trades,  mechanical  appliances  are  tending  to  take  the  place 
of  hand-work,  and  while  the  production  of  books  is  thereby  in- 
creased, the  skilled  worker  is  becoming  gradually  extinct.  With 
the  abandonment  of  the  old  system  of  apprentices,  the  worker 
ceases  to  obtain  a  broad  knowledge  of  his  trade,  and  the  final 
outcome  is,  as  William  Morris  stated,  that  even  those  who  would 
have  good  things  cannot  get  them  at  any  price.  In  the  county 
council  workshops,  however,  an  attempt  is  made  to  give  a 
broader  training,  and  to  preserve  the  individuality  of  the  worker. 
In  this  way  it  is  hoped  that  the  artistic  crafts,  and  those  requir- 
ing much  individual  initiative,  will  be  preserved,  and  by  degrees 
the  public  may  be  so  educated  as  to  prefer  good  quality  and 
variety  to  cheapness  and  monotony.  There  is  a  fallacy  in  the 
doctrine  that  supply  always  follows  demand:  on  the  contrary. 


828  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

demand  is  usually  the  outcome  of  supply  in  the  first  instance. 
Our  needs  are  the  fruit  of  past  advantages,  not  merely  the 
prophecy  of  future  hunger.  There  is  danger  in  the  extinction 
of  the  arts,  lest  they  should  be  wholly  forgotten  and 
undemanded. 

While  the  technical  schools  thus  render  an  inestimable 
service,  I  fear  that  their  ends  may  be  defeated  to  a  considerable 
extent  by  commercialism.^  It  remains  to  be  seen  how  far  the 
movement  can  be  carried  with  economic  success;  and  while  the 
"trade"  has  already  been  influenced  by  it,  it  is  hardly  to  be  hoped 
that  there  will  never  be  a  reciprocal  detrimental  effect.  Such 
considerations  will  not,  of  course,  prevent  the  work  from  being 
carried  forward  with  zeal,  and  all  who  value  the  arts  should  lend 
their  support.  As  Morris  always  insisted,  in  the  long  run  it 
becomes  a  question  of  the  freedom  of  the  worker,  and  this  is 
equally  true  in  all  fields  of  intellectual  effort.  It  is  here  that  the 
socialist  and  the  individualist  are  one. 

There  is  much  outcry  in  certain  quarters  at  the  great  increase 
of  municipal  debt.  It  is  hardly  necessary  in  this  article  to  dis- 
cuss this  question  at  length,  but  the  following  from  Bernard 
Shaw  is  worth  quoting: 

According  to  the  popular  view,  the  thrifty  course  is  to  pay  as  you  go, 
and  not  add  to  "the  burden  of  municipal  debt."  The  correct  financial  theory 
is  undoubtedly  the  reverse:  all  expenditure  on  public  works  should  be  treated 
as  capital  expenditure.  The  capital  should  be  raised  in  the  cheapest  market, 
and  the  rates  used  to  pay  the  interest  and  sinking-fund.  When  a  municipality 
which  can  borrow  at  less  than  4  per  cent,  deliberately  extorts  capital  for 
public  works  from  tradesmen  who  have  to  raise  it  at  from  10  to  40  per  cent.,  or 
even  more,  it  is  clearly  imposing  the  grossest  unthrift  on  its  unfortunate 
constituents.     In  practice  everything  depends  on  the  duration  of  the  work. 

*  Whether  the  influence  comes  directly  from  the  masters  or  the  men,  its 
origin  is  the  same.  I  read  in  the  Bookbinding  Trades  Journal,  1904,  P-  48,  "The 
technical  classes,  as  at  present  arranged,  are  not  of  much  use  to  the  apprentices 
of  our  trade,  and  the  action  of  the  London  County  Council  in  instituting  classes 
to  teach  women  bookbinding  is  likely  to  be  resented  by  our  union.  Already  the 
employers  have  moved  in  the  matter,  and  a  joint  conference  between  the 
secretaries  of  the  London  societies  of  bookbinders  and  the  committee  of  feder- 
ated employers  has  been  held  and  adjourned.  To  my  mind,  nothing  but  strenu- 
ous resistance  to  the  London  County  Council's  plans,  in  conjunction  with  other 
trades,  can  avert  a  calamity. — Arthur  J.  Carter. 


MUNICIPAL  ACTIVITY  IN  BRITAIN  829 

It  would  be  absurd  to  pay  for  an  electric-lighting  plant  out  of  the  half-year's 
revenue.    It  would  be  silly  to  raise  a  loan  to  clear  away  a  snowfall. 

The  practical  identity  of  the  so-called  "debt"  with  what  is 
called  "capital"  in  private  business  is  well  shown  by  a  concrete 
illustration  taken  from  Does  Municipal  Management  Pay?  by  R. 
B.  Suthers  (1902)  : 

In  Manchester  the  corporation  [i.  e.,  municipality]  own  the  gas-works; 
in  Liverpool  a  private  company  owns  the  gas-works.  Up  to  1897  Manchester 
had  spent  £1,833,000  on  its  works;  Liverpool  had  spent  £1,918,000.  The 
£1,833,000  spent  by  Manchester  is  called  "debt,"  but  the  £1,918,000  spent  by 
Liverpool  is  called  "capital."  What  is  the  difference?  There  is  no  difference 
except  in  name.  The  Manchester  "debt"  is  just  as  much  "capital"  as  the 
other.  How  was  the  Liverpool  capital  raised?  It  was  subscribed  in  sums  of 
different  amounts  by  individuals.  How  was  the  Manchester  "debt"  raised? 
In  exactly  the  same  way.  The  Manchester  corporation  issue  "stock."  Private 
individuals  apply  for  the  stock.  The  Liverpool  Gas  Company  issue  "shares," 
which  bear  dividends  according  to  the  profits  made.  The  "stock"  of  the 
Manchester  corporation  bears  a  fixed  interest  or  dividend.  Any  surplus 
profit  goes  into  the  pockets  of  the  citizens. 

Of  other  municipal  enterprises  it  is  not  necessary  now  to 
write.  The  main  purpose  of  this  article  has  been  to  direct  atten- 
tion to  a  movement  of  the  greatest  importance,  too  little  under- 
stood or  appreciated  in  this  country.  Whatever  may  be  thought 
of  the  idealism  that  is  at  the  bottom  of  so  much  of  it,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  we  in  America  should  be  better  off  and  more 
progressive  if  we  had  clearer  ideals  of  civic  life — things  to  work 
and  hope  for.  The  "What's  the  use?"  feeling  paralyzes  the 
efforts  of  our  good  citizens,  who  go  nowhere  because  they  see  no 
road. 

And,  after  all,  has  not  something  come  out  of  that  stable  at 
Hammersmith  ? 


AMERICAN  DRIFT  TOWARD  EDUCATIONAL  UNITY 


JAMES  E.  BOYLE,  PH.D. 
Professor  of  Economics  and   Sociology,  University  of  North  Dakota 


I.        COMPETITION    IN    EDUCATION     (EDUCATIONAL    DIFFERENTIA- 
TION) 

President  James  B.  Angell,  of  Michigan  University,  in  his 
address  at  the  quarter-centennial  celebration  of  Kansas  Univer- 
sity, said: 

My  own  conviction  is  that  it  would  be  better  for  the  cause  of  higher 
education  if  not  another  college  were  established  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
for  at  least  a  generation  to  come. 

He  was  speaking  for  the  Middle  West,  that  great  school- 
ridden  section  of  our  country,  where  the  denominational  college 
is  making  the  fight  of  its  life  against  the  state  university. 

Actual  conditions  more  than  justified  this  statement.  In  New 
England  religious  denominations  are  few,  and  state  universities 
are  practically  unknown.  Hence  the  church  college  there  is  a 
venerable,  strong,  and  well-established  institution.  But  in  the  West 
denominations  are  extremely  numerous;  and  often,  by  a  process 
of  division  and  subdivision,  they  multiply  their  number  and  divide 
their  resources.  Among  the  commoner  denominations  are  these: 
Baptists,  Methodists,  Presbyterians,  Cumberland  Presbyterians, 
United  Presbyterians,  Christians,  Swedish  Lutherans,  Nor- 
wegian Lutherans,  German  Lutherans,  Friends,  Congregation- 
alists,  United  Brethren,  Catholics,  Seventh-Day  Adventists, 
Episcopalians,  Mennonites,  etc.  Partly  as  a  matter  of  denomi- 
national pride,  and  partly  to  secure  trained  leadership  in  its  own 
church,  each  sect  must  have  its  own  college.  This  multiplication 
of  sectarian  colleges  in  the  face  of  the  state  university  differen- 
tiates the  West  from  the  East,  We  may  cite  Iowa  as  a  typical 
state  of  the  Middle  West.  Here  are  twenty  denominational  col- 
leges.   One  sect  has  six.     Still  the  state  is  maintaining  at  public 

830 


DRIFT  TOWARD  EDUCATIONAL  UNITY  831 

expense  a  thorough  and  efficient  system  of  schools  for  higher 
education.  In  Kansas  there  are  eighteen  of  these  sc^called  col- 
leges. Others  are  being  planned.  And  so  throughout  all  this 
new  country  the  spread  of  denominational  colleges  (not  acade- 
mies) is  remarkable.  What  is  true  of  one  state  is  true  of  all. 
The  story  of  these  schools  that  have  failed  has  never  been  writ- 
ten, but  their  name  is  legion.  To  maintain  many  of  the  feebler 
ones  now  is  a  desperate  matter.  These  schools  are  doing  a  good 
work,  it  is  admitted.  But  that  is  not  enough.  The  good  is  enemy 
to  the  best.  There  is  abundant  reason  for  the  conviction  which 
President  Angell  expressed. 

That  the  competition  between  weak  colleges  is  costly  and  de- 
structive is  obvious.  That  a  wiser  course  is  possible  few  are 
ready  to  admit.  The  Jews  teach  us  a  lesson  in  point.  True  to 
their  keen  intuitions  in  things  economic  and  intellectual,  they 
erect  no  new  colleges,  but  patronize  the  best  already  provided. 

Let  us  examine  briefly  four  of  the  most  significant  phases 
of  competition,  before  discussing  the  remedy. 

1.  This  species  of  warfare  is  peculiarly  unfortunate  in  the 
educational  world.  Too  often  the  smaller  religious  school  is 
tempted  not  to  "p^^^y  fair."  Damning  reports  are  spread  con- 
cerning its  big  rival,  the  state  university.  It  is  called  godless. 
irreligious,  and  even  anti-Christian.  In  other  words,  the 
churches  withdraw  from  the  state  university,  as  fully  as  possible, 
both  their  presence  and  moral  support — do  their  utmost,  in  fact, 
to  secularize  it — and  then  anathematize  it  as  being  un-Christian. 

2.  Financially,  competition  is  one-sided.  For  the  state  uni- 
versity has  back  of  it  federal  land  grants  and  all  the  taxable  re- 
sources of  the  state.  It  is  dependent  on  the  gifts  of  no  man  or 
sect.  It  is  an  integral  part  of  the  state  and  is  predestined  to 
(grow  as  the  state  grows.  It  is  democratic,  and  is  free  and  un- 
fettered in  the  search  for  truth  and  the  promulgation  thereof. 
That  vexing  question  of  gifts  from  the  predatory  rich  is  elimi- 
nated. The  modern  state  universities  are  spending  annually 
from  two  hundred  thousand  to  a  million  dollars  apiece,  and  this 
outlay  is  increasing  yearly  by  leaps  and  bounds.  One  plant  of 
this  kind  in  a  state  is  enough,  and  is  too  costly  to  be  duplicated. 


832  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

And  it  is  an  unpardonable  wrong  to  compel  the  boys  and  girls  to 
attend  the  school  whose  equipment  is  inferior  to  the  best  in  the 
state. 

3.  Then  there  is  the  question  of  size.  This  is  more  than  a 
question  of  mere  bigness.  As  a  general  rule,  the  larger  the  uni- 
versity, the  more  costly  and  efficient  are  its  plant  and  equipment. 
In  the  number  of  students  in  attendance  the  state  university  is 
rapidly  overshadowing  its  competitors.  The  late  President 
Adams  of  Wisconsin,  published  figures  showing  that  from  1885 
to  1895,  in  the  eight  independent  New  England  colleges — Am- 
herst, Bowdoin,  Brown,  Dartmouth,  Harvard,  Williams,  Wes- 
leyan,  and  Yale — the  increase  in  attendance  was  20  per  cent.  In 
eight  representative  denominational  colleges  of  the  North  Central 
states  the  increase  for  the  same  period  was  but  14  per  cent.  In 
eight  representative  state  universities  the  increase  was  320  per 
cent. 

In  1904  the  eight  New  England  colleges  mentioned  above 
had  11,740  students;  the  eight  state  universities,  23,451 ;  and  the 
eight  denominational  colleges,  8,700,  From  the  standpoint  of 
the  age  of  these  schools,  all  is  in  favor  of  the  independent  and 
denominational  colleges  for  they  were  here  first.  Yet  the 
youngest  school — that  is,  the  state  university — is  already  the 
largest.     Its  day  of  probation  is  over.     It  has  come  to  stay. 

4.  "But  size  does  not  count,"  says  the  friend  of  the  denomi- 
national college;  "I  would  rather  send  my  boy  or  girl  to  the 
smaller  school  because  of  the  better  atmosphere."  This  strikes 
at  the  root  of  the  matter,  for  this  places  the  issue  at  once  on  a 
moral  basis.  If  we  examine  this  claim,  we  again  discover  that 
the  evidence  is  in  favor  of  the  state  university. 

Whence  come  the  crowd  of  students  who  throng  the  state 
universities  ?  Considering  the  number  of  denominational  colleges 
granting  degrees,  it  would  seem  that  only  the  wicked  and  ungodly 
are  left  for  the  state  university.  Here  again  facts  are  instructive. 
In  1897,  when  a  census  was  taken  by  F.  W.  Kelsey.  the  Presby- 
terian church  had  more  students,  by  actual  count,  in  seventeen 
state  universities  than  in  all  the  Presbyterian  colleges  of  the 


DRIFT  TOWARD  EDUCATIONAL  UNITY  833 

whole  United  States.  The  University  of  Nebraska  in  1900  had 
1,800  students.  Omitting  the  smaller  denominations,  these  stu- 
dents represented  church  membership  as  follows: 

IS5  Baptists  102  Protestant  Episcopalians 

60  Catholics  70  Lutherans 

109  Christians  302  Presbyterians 

220  Congregationalists  458  Methodists 

The  458  Methodist  students  in  attendance  exceed  in  number  the 
Methodist  students  of  college  grade  in  the  Nebraska  Wesleyan, 
the  old  well-established  Methodist  college  of  the  state. 

In  the  University  of  North  Dakota  a  religious  census  was 
taken  in  1905,  showing  the  following  church  relationships: 

78  Lutherans  20  Baptists 

64  Methodists  7  EpiscopaHans 

54  Presbyterians  3  Christian  Scientists 

42  no  church  3  Spirituali'^ts 

27  Catholics  i  Unitarian 

28  Congregationalists 

That  is,  87^  per  cent,  of  the  students  were  church  members, 
and  only  12^  per  cent,  belonged  to  no  church.  In  Nebraska 
University  in  1900,  53  per  cent,  of  the  men  and  74  per  cent,  of 
the  women  were  church  members.  Others  reported  themselves 
as  church  adherents  (41  per  cent,  of  the  men;  24  per  cent,  of  the 
women).  According  to  Professor  Kelsey's  figures  in  1897, 
representing  sixteen  important  state  universities,  57^^  per  cent, 
of  the  students  were  church  members,  and  31  per  cent,  church 
adherents.  Only  12  per  cent,  had  no  definite  church  connections 
or  preferences.  This  is  higher  than  the  percentage  outside.  In 
the  half-century  ending  in  1894,  according  to  Professor  Kelsey, 
Michigan  University  had  sent  out  301  clergymen  and  mission- 
aries— that  is.  an  average  of  six  for  each  graduating  class.  Many 
theological  schools  can  scarcely  equal  this  record. 

Faculties,  like  student  bodies,  are  as  God-fearing  and  religious 
as  individuals  in  other  walks  of  life.  In  the  University  of  North 
Dakota,  for  example,  in  1905  the  faculty  had  church  relations  as 
follows : 


834  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

II   Presbyterians  2  Catholics 

8  Methodists  i  Congregationalist 

3  Baptists  I  Christian 

3  Episcopalians  i  no  church 
3   Lutherans 

Those  familiar  with  Hfe  in  a  state  university  will  readily  call 
to  mind  the  vigorous  expression  of  healthy  Christian  life  on  the 
part  of  the  students,  as  manifested  in  the  Young  Men's  Chris- 
tian Association,  the  Young  Women's  Christian  Association,  the 
Mission  Study  Classes,  the  Student's  Volunteer  Movement  for 
Foreign  Missions,  the  "Morning  Watch"  prayer-meetings,  the 
numerous  Bible  classes  conducted  by  students,  the  annual  send- 
ing of  student  delegates  to  the  Bible  conference  at  Lake  Geneva 
and  similar  Christian  gatherings,  etc. 

The  conclusion  is  forced  upon  us  that  state  universities,  while 
non-denominational,  are  yet  strictly  Christian,  Thus,  even  on 
its  peculiar  field,  the  denominational  college  has  no  real  ad- 
vantage in  comparison  with  the  state  university.  What  reason 
remains,  therefore,  for  continuing  this  wasteful  and  misguided 
war  of  competition?  Is  there  no  settlement  possible,  offering 
peace  with  honor  and  advantage  to  both  sides  ? 

II.    CO-OPERATION    IN    EDUCATION    (EDUCATIONAL   INTEGRATION) 

There  is  a  better  way  than  competition,  and  that  is  co-opera- 
tion between  church  college  and  state  university.  This  plan  is 
now  past  the  experimental  stage;  it  has  been  thoroughly  tested. 
What  is  being  done  now  is  vitally  interesting  and  instructive. 
Co-operation  of  some  kind  and  degree  is  in  full  effect  in  various 
places  in  the  United  States  and  Canada.  Let  us  review  some  of 
the  best  examples,  and  then  pronounce  judgment  on  the  evidence 
before  us. 

III.       LESSONS    FROM    CANADA 

If  we  do  not  shut  our  eyes  in  sweet  self-complacency,  we  can 
learn  some  valuable  lessons  from  our  prosperous  northern  neigh- 
bor. Canada  has  had  many  years  of  experience  in  this  form  of 
co-operation.  The  state  university  at  Toronto  is  the  best-known 
example,  and  we  will  examine  it  first. 


DRIFT  TOWARD  EDUCATIONAL  UNITY  83$ 

This  university  has  a  magnificent  plant,  and  an  equipment 
and  endowment  representing  some  four  or  five  million  dollars. 
It  has  a  faculty  of  fifty-eight  instructors,  covering  the  fields  of 
arts,  science,  medicine,  engineering,  dentistry,  and  pharmacy. 
Grouped  about  this  central  university,  and  using  its  libraries  and 
laboratories,  are  five  denominational  colleges — namely,  Meth- 
odist, Presbyterian,  Catholic,  Church  of  England,  and  Low 
Anglican.  Three  of  these  maintain  only  theological  schools ;  the 
other  two — the  Methodists  and  Church  of  England — oflfer  a  full 
arts  course  in  addition  to  theology.  They  maintain  the  arts 
course,  they  say,  because  they  believe  this  course  offers  "those 
subjects  which  influence  more  largely  the  formation  of  character 
and  the  style  of  the  man." 

Discipline  and  government  of  the  university  are  in  the  hands 
of  a  senate,  in  which  all  the  faculties  as  well  as  graduates  of 
the  university  are  represented.  This  is  the  legislative  authority 
of  the  university.  The  executive  control  is  in  the  hands  of  an 
executive  council,  in  which  the  various  colleges  are  represented, 
which  deals  with  all  cases  of  discipline  of  an  intercollegiate 
nature,  as  well  as  the  arrangement  of  time-tables  for  lectures, 
and  other  matters  which  effect  the  harmonious  working  of  the 
institution.  Each  college  attends  to  the  discipline  and  super- 
vision of  its  own  students,  and  is,  in  all  matters  of  internal 
economy,  entirely  independent.  Each  preserves  its  own  complete 
identity.  Victoria  College  (Methodist)  reports  but  one  case  of 
discipline  in  twelve  years.     President  Bunvash  writes: 

The  moral  and  religious  tone  of  our  students  have  given  us  great  satis- 
faction. We  think  our  system  gives  us  all  the  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  denominational  colleges,  with  comparative  freedom  from  the  narrow- 
ing influence  of  a  small  and  sectarian  institution.  It  does  not  make  the 
necessary  educational  work  unduly  burdensome  to  the  church,  while  it 
furnishes  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  church  with  the  best  educational 
advantages  that  the  country  can  afford.  At  the  same  time  it  surrounds  the 
state  university  with  the  moral  and  religious  influences  of  the  churches 
as  represented  by  their  colleges. 

Many  Methodists  of  Canada  strenuously  opposed  this  move- 
ment when  the  proposal  came  up  some  dozen  years  ago  to  remove 
their  school  from  Cobourg  to  Toronto.  "The  principle  is  being 


836  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

fully  vindicated,"  says  Dr.  Burwash,  "and  you  could  not  induce 
our  church  to  go  back.  We  are  planting  all  our  new  colleges  in  the 
West — Manitoba,  Alberta,  and  British  Columbia — on  the  same 
basis."  The  church's  educational  and  financial  secretary  for 
Canada,  Rev.  Dr.  John  Potts,  one  of  the  best-known  Methodists 
on  this  continent,  writes,  concerning  co-operation : 

We  have  had  sufBcient  time  to  test  the  value  of  the  relationship.  I  think 
there  is  but  one  opinion  now  as  to  the  importance  of  it.  We  gain  distinct 
financial  benefit  by  having  all  the  expensive  part  of  the  university,  such  as 
sciences,  etc.,  without  any  cost  to  us,  and  we  have  at  the  same  time  the 
opportunity  and  privilege  of  moral  influence  over  the  students,  and  the 
privilege  also  of  exerting  a  moral  influence  over  the  university. 

Dr.  A.  H.  Reynar,  dean  of  the  faculty  of  arts,  Victoria  Col- 
lege, thinks  that,  when  the  church  cannot  supply  all  the  latest 
and  best  requirements  of  university  work,  it  is  the  course  of 
"policy  and  honesty  to  work,  if  possible,  in  co-operation  with  a 
state  university." 

In  regard  to  loss  of  identity.  Dean  F.  H.  Wallace,  of  the 
faculty  of  theology,  says : 

We  have  gained  for  our  students  the  advantages  of  the  equipment  and 
the  wider  courses  and  the  prestige  of  the  degrees  of  the  University  of 
Toronto.  At  the  same  time  we  have  retained  almost  intact  the  individuality 
and  autonomy  of  our  own  college  life.  Our  students  are  very  loyal  to  their 
own  college,  and  maintain  its  societies  and  traditions,  even  its  own  sports. 

And,  touching  the  religious  atmosphere,  he  continues : 

And,  above  all,  we  find  no  loss  of  religious  life.  The  spiritual  side  of 
our  work  was  never  stronger  and  more  satisfactory  than  today.  Indeed, 
our  removal  to  Toronto  and  association  with  a  large  university  have  made 
it  more  possible  than  formerly  to  come  under  the  influence  of  great  religious 
leaders  and  movements,  such  as  the  International  Committee  of  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.,  the  Students'  Missionary  Volunteers'  conventions,  John  R.  Mott,  R.  E. 
Speer,  etc. 

There  is  no  question  about  the  success  of  the  Victoria  College 
experiment.  Similar  reports  come  from  all  the  other  federated 
colleges. 

William  MacLaren,  of  Knox  Collie  (Presbyterian),  says: 
"We  have  had  many  years'  experience  with  this  arrangement, 
and  are  satisfied  with  it." 


DRIFT  TOWARD  EDUCATIONAL  UNITY  837 

Prinicpal  J,  P.  Sheraton,  of  Wycliffe  College  (Lx)w  Angli- 
can), speaks  in  these  words  of  the  Toronto  plan: 

The  plan  followed  here  has  worked  very  successfully.  We  secure  for 
our  students  all  the  advantages  of  the  university — the  broadening  of  view 
and  enlarging  of  sympathy  which  come  from  contact  with  .«ome  two 
thousand  students  in  arts,  medicine,  and  theology,  .  .  .  .  the  equipment  in 
arts  and  all  the  facilities  which  a  great  university  like  that  of  Toronto  is 
able  to  give. 

The  Catholics  find  the  Toronto  plan  as  satisfactory  as  do  the 
Protestants.  Rev.  D.  Cushing,  of  St.  Michael's  College  (Cath- 
olic), says: 

I  believe  the  Catholic  students  of  this  province  who  have  made,  or  are 
making,  a  university  course  in  Toronto,  are  pleased  with  the  plan  of  affilia- 
tion adopted  here.  If  you  are  contemplating  any  arrangement  of  this 
kind,  I  should  advise  you  not  to  drop  the  project  too  hastily  on  account  of 
any  apparent  difficulties.  I  do  not  at  all  consider  it  a  hindrance  to  us  to  be 
located  so  close  to  other  denominational  colleges. 

The  Toronto  plan  is  clearly  a  demonstrated  success,  finan- 
cially, educationally,  and  morally.  The  same  plan  is  being  car- 
ried out  in  Montreal,  Winnipeg,  and  in  the  other  provinces. 
In  Montreal  there  are  four  affiliated  denominational  colleges. 
William  Peterson  (of  Oxford  University),  principal  of  McGill 
University,  Montreal,  pronounces  the  Canadian  idea  of  co-opera- 
tion "quite  a  success."  "For  myself,"  he  says,  "I  am  all  for  con- 
solidation." From  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  this  idea  of  friendly 
solution  of  the  problem  of  higher  education  prevails  in  Canada. 

IV.      BEGINNINGS  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 

Beginnings  of  co-operation  have  at  last  been  made  in  the 
United  States,  although  we  have  been  slow  about  it.  Thomas 
Jefferson  was  father  of  the  idea  of  co-operation  between  church 
and  state  university.  In  his  letter  to  Dr.  Cooper,  November  2, 
1822.  concerning  the  University  of  Virginia,  he  advocated  the 
establishment  of  schools  of  theology  in  connection  with  this  in- 
stitution. His  idea  was  that  each  religious  denomination  of  the 
state  should  be  encouraged  to  "establish  a  professorship  of  its 
own  .  .  .  .  ,  preserving,  however,  independence  of  the  university 
and  of  each  other."    He  made  this  recommendation  in  order  to 


S^S  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

counteract  an  "idea  that  this  [the  University  of  Virginia]  is  an 
institution,  not  only  of  no  religion,  but  against  all  religions," 
and  in  order  to  overcome  what  people  pointed  out  as  a  "defect  in 
an  institution  professing  to  give  instruction  in  all  useful 
sciences." 

But  not  till  our  own  day  has  this  idea  of  the  far-seeing  Jef- 
ferson been  carried  out.  .  Now  co-operation  in  some  form  is  in 
successful  operation  at  the  universities  of  seven  states — namely, 
California,  Kansas,  Michigan,  Missouri,  Oregon,  West  Virginia, 
and  Wyoming. 

The  Disciples'  denomination  was  the  first  in  the  United 
States  to  demonstrate  the  success  of  co-operation.  This  church 
has  maintained  the  Ann  Arbor  Bible  chairs  at  Michigan  Univer- 
sity since  1893,  the  purpose  being  to  provide  instruction  of  a 
university  grade  in  the  Bible.  The  equipment  consists  of  one 
building  and  a  small  but  thoroughly  trained  faculty.  More  than 
seventeen  hundred  students  have  already  taken  work  in  one  or 
more  of  the  Bible  chair  courses.  The  church  considers  the  work 
a  gratifying  success,  and  will  soon  enlarge  the  faculty.  Presi- 
dent Angell,  of  the  university,  says :  "We  feel  under  obligations 
to  the  Bible  chairs  for  the  help  they  have  rendered  in  religious 
work  among  the  students."  This  church  has  a  similar  Bible 
chair  at  the  University  of  Kansas  (established  in  1901),  and 
theological  seminaries  at  the  University  of  California,  Oregon, 
and  Missouri.  Students  and  professors  familiar  with  the  work 
pronounce  it  a  surprising  success. 

The  Episcopal  church  has  guild  halls — species  of  student  club 
houses — in  Michigan,  West  Virginia,  and  Wyoming.  The  Bap- 
tist church  also  has  guild  halls  in  Michig^in  and  West  Virginia. 
Courses  of  lectures  are  provided  here  during  the  year. 

About  the  University  of  California  at  Berkeley  the  Congrega- 
tionalists,  Christians,  Baptists,  Methodists,  and  Unitarians  have 
all  either  erected  buildings  and  begun  work,  or  have  partially 
completed  their  preparations  for  co-operation  in  some  form. 

What  has  been  done  in  the  United  States  is  clearly  only  a 
beginning.  In  the  cases  cited  above  work  done  in  the  university 
counts  toward  a  degree  in  the  church  school,  but,  on  the  other 


DRIFT  TOWARD  EDUCATIONAL  UNITY  839 

hand,  work  done  in  the  church  school  or  "Bible  chair"  does  not 
count  toward  a  degree  in  the  university.  And  herein  is  the  wide 
gulf  between  the  American  and  the  Canadian  plan;  and  herein 
is,  in  the  opinion  of  the  writer,  the  weakness  of  the  American 
plan.  But  a  change  is  coming — has  come,  in  fact  And  North 
Dakota  furnishes  the  example. 

V.      NORTH  DAKOTA  MOVEMENT 

The  Methodist  college  of  North  Dakota  was  located  by  its 
founders  in  an  isolated  village,  where  chance  of  success  was  very 
precarious.  A  struggle  was  made  for  years  to  keep  the  school 
alive,  but  the  results  were  wholly  incommensurate  with  the  labor 
and  money  expended.  The  question  of  removal  and  co-operation 
with  the  university  at  Grand  Forks  was  broached.  The  presi- 
dents of  both  institutions  favored  it.  Other  men  of  considerable 
influence  opposed  the  movement.  Some  ridiculed  the  idea  of  a 
"prayer  annex"  to  the  state  university.  A  memorandum  signed 
by  both  presidents,  and  given  to  the  press,  set  forth  a  tentative 
plan  of  co-operation  as  follows : 

1.  That  the  Methodist  church  change  the  name  of  its  institution  from 
Red  River  Valley  University  to  Wesley  College. 

2.  That  a  building  or  buildings  be  erected  in  near  proximity  to  the  state 
university,  but  on  a  separate  campus,  to  include  a  guild  hall,  such  recitation 
rooms  as  may  be  required  for  the  work  proposed,  possibly  dormitories  for 
young  women  and  young  men,  and  a  president's  house. 

3.  That  the  course  of  study  may  be:  (0)  Bible  and  church  history,  Eng- 
lish Bible,  New  Testament,  Greek,  Hebrew,  theism,  and  such  other  subjects 
as  the  college  may  elect  in  pursuance  of  its  purposes,  (fe)  A  brief  course 
that  may  be  designated  as  a  Bible  normal  course,  intended  especially  to 
fit  students  to  become  efficient  Sunday-school  teachers  and  lay  workers,  and 
upon  the  completion  of  which  certificates  of  recognition  may  be  granted,  (c) 
Instruction  in  music  and  elocution  may  be  given  if  desired,  and  appropriate 
certificates  granted,     id)  Guild-hall  lectures. 

4.  That  the  state  university  grant  for  work  done  in  subjects  included  under 
(a)  above  such  credit  towards  the  B.A.  degree  as  it  gives  for  technical  work 
done  in  its  own  professional  schools  and  for  work  done  in  other  colleges 
of  reputable  standing.  Likewise,  Wesley  College  shall  give  credit  for  work 
done  in  the  state  university,  in  similar  manner,  as  preparation  for  any 
degree  or  certificate  it  may  offer. 

This  "merger"  proposition  was  adopted  by  the  trustees  of  the 


840  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Methodist  college,  and  also  sanctioned  by  the  regents  of  the 
state  university,  and  is  now  in  process  of  being  carried  out.  The 
building  of  the  "Red  River  Valley  University"  was  sold  to  the 
state  for  a  school  of  science.  This  movement  toward  educational 
unity  is  the  Toronto  plan  modified  to  fit  American  conditions. 
So  far  as  the  United  States  is  concerned,  it  is  a  great  innovation. 
It  is  confidently  believed  that  the  Baptists  and  the  Presbyterians 
of  North  Dakota  will  soon  follow  the  step  taken  by  the  Method- 
ists, and  that  the  movement  will  spread  to  other  states.  There 
is  much  evidence  to  confirm  this  belief. 

VI.      PROPOSED  MOVEMENT  IN  OTHER  STATES 

For  years  this  movement  has  been  in  the  air.  It  is  just  now 
taking  tangible  form,  as  expressions  on  every  side  show. 

An  official  committee  of  Baptists  in  the  state  of  Washington 
makes  this  report: 

It  is  proposed  to  establish  by  the  side  of  the  state  university  a  Christian 
institution,  federated  with  it,  and  under  the  auspices  of  the  Baptist  denomina- 
tion  The  scope  to  be  ....  to  provide  lecture  courses  to  be  filled  by  the 

most  eminent  talent  available.  The  president,  with  other  instructors  as  the 
situation  may  require,  to  teach  those  branches  of  learning  essential  to  a  finish- 
ed education  upon  which  the  state  does  not  enter,  or  enters  in  an  incomplete 
way.  To  enlarge  the  curriculum  until  every  gap  in  full  university  work — 
occasioned  by  the  nature  of  the  state  university — is  filled.  To  found  scholar- 
ships. 

This  is  the  Avay  the  Congregational  church  as  a  whole  sees 
the  opportunity.  At  the  triennial  council  of  this  church,  held  at 
Portland,  Maine,  in  1901,  the  following  resolution  was  adopted: 

Resolved,  That  this  council  regards  with  favor  the  project  of  establishing 
foundations  of  a  religious  character  in  connection  with  our  great  state 
universities,  whose  purpose  shall  be  to  provide  pastoral  care,  religious  in- 
struction, and  helpful  Christian  influence  to  the  students  there  assembled, 
and  we  heartily  commend  this  enterprise  to  those  of  generous  spirit  as  in 
the  highest  degree  worthy  of  their  sympathy  and  their  gifts. 

In  Missouri  the  Northern  and  Southern  Presbyterians  and 
the  Episcopalians  have  the  matter  under  advisement.  In  Ne- 
braska the  Episcopalians  have  land  for  a  building,  and  the  Lu- 
therans and  the  Presbyterians  are  working  to  the  same  end.  In 
Illinois  the  Presbyterians,  through  their  synod,  are  perfecting  a 


DRIFT  TOWARD  EDUCATIONAL  UNITY  84I 

plan  of  reaching  the  Presbyterian  students  of  that  university, 
and  contemplate  ultimately  the  establishment  of  some  form  of 
theological  seminary  or  college. 

The  Methodists  of  Illinois — and  herein  is  a  remarkable  coin- 
cident— hit  upon  the  same  plan  of  co-operation  as  the  Methodists 
of  North  Dakota,  and  at  the  same  time,  and  this,  too,  absolutely 
without  any  communication.  Three  prominent  Methodists  of 
Urbana,  111.,  were  working  out  a  "tentative  plan"  for  their  state. 
while  at  the  same  time,  but  unknown  to  either  group,  two  college 
presidents  in  North  Dakota  were  working  out  the  same  plan  for 
their  state.  The  statement  published  by  the  Illinois  Methodists 
is  in  substance  as  follows: 

There  are  now  over  seven  hundred  Methodist  students  in  the  University 
of  Illinois.  They  are  here  rather  than  in  the  Methodist  colleges  because 
they  find  here  the  best  educational  facilities  of  the  state.  Still  the  state 
university  does  not,  and  in  fact  cannot,  provide  systematic  religious  instruc- 
tion. Certain  inherent  difficulties  prevent  the  local  churches  from  doing  the 
most  effective  work  among  these  students.  The  need  is  overwhelming  that 
something  be  done  to  enable  the  church  to  perform  its  full  duty  toward  these 
young  people.  To  help  solve  this  problem,  the  following  suggestions  are 
made: 

That  a  college  be  established  in  Urbana,  in  close  proximity  to  the  state 
university,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Methodist  church  of  Illinois;  that  this 
institution  be  known  as  "Wesley  College;"  that  suitable  buildings  be  erected; 
that  students  of  the  college  take  their  instruction  in  the  University  of  Illinois 
in  all  those  subjects  for  which  the  university  adequately  provides;  that 
instruction  be  given  in  religious  subjects,  including  the  English  Bible,  Chris- 
tian evidences,  church  history,  etc.,  and  such  other  subjects,  like  ethics  and 
philosophy  for  example,  as  may  not  be  provided  for  in  the  university  to  the 
desired  extent. 

It  is  apparent  that  the  existence  of  such  a  college  in  the  heart  of  the 
university  community  would  be  a  standing  reminder  to  professors  and 
students  alike  of  the  importance  of  the  spiritual  and  religious  elements  in 
higher  education.  It  would  be  a  standing  incentive  to  the  young  people  to 
give  attention  to  this  important  subject.  There  is  little  doubt  that  for  the 
high-grade  instruction  given  by  the  college  the  university  would  allow  credit 
toward  a  degree.  The  possibilities  of  such  an  institution  are  great.  The 
ablest  men  in  the  whole  church  could  be  brought  in  to  impress  the  young 
people.  Methodist  resources  could  be  devoted,  in  toto,  to  systematic  religious 
work,  leaving  the  state  to  provide  for  the  expense  of  ordinary  education.  It 
would  prove  a  strategic  point  for  the  church  to  reach  the  future  leaders  of 


842  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

agriculture,  business,  commerce,  industry,  education,  any,  even  of  the  church 
itself. 

Here  is  offered  the  possibility  of  a  true  spiritual  union  of  church  and 
state  in  the  work  of  education,  which  would  have  all  the  advantages,  and 
none  of  the  disadvantages,  of  that  political  union  which  is  opposed  alike  to 
the  judgment  and  feelings  of  the  American  people. 

VII.      CONCLUSIONS 

Since  the  state  university  is  the  university  of  all  the  people, 
and  is  a  great  civic  institution  to  train  citizens  for  actual  life,  it 
is  hoped  that  churches  will  co-operate  heartily  with  it.  They 
support  it  with  their  taxes.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  Methodist 
political  economy,  Baptist  mathematics,  Congregational  physics, 
or  Presbyterian  chemistry.  The  future  workers  of  the  church 
must  also  be  citizens  of  the  state.  The  religious  man  must  also 
be  the  civic  man.  Cannot  these  two  systems  of  training,  the 
religious  and  the  civic,  be  harmoniously  co-ordinated  by  the 
simple  process  of  friendly  co-operation  between  denominational 
college  and  state  university?  Such  co-operation  has  within  itself 
the  potentialities  of  magnificent  fruition.  It  is  the  movement  of 
the  future,  and,  as  such,  deserves  our  interest,  our  sympathy, 
and  our  support. 


REVIEWS 

Sex  and  Character.    By  Otto  Weininger.     Authorized  Trans- 
lation from  the  Sixth  German  Edition.     New  York:  G.  P. 

Putnam's  Sons,  1906.     Pp.  xxii-f-349. 

No  men  who  really  think  deeply  about  women  retain  a  high  opinion  of 
them;  men  either  despise  women  or  they  have  never  thought  seriously  about 
them.     (P.  236.) 

Woman  is  neither  high-minded  nor  low-minded,  strong-minded  nor  weak- 
minded.  She  is  the  opposite  of  all  these.  Mind  cannot  be  predicated  of  her 
at  all;  she  is  mindless.     (P.  253.) 

Women  have  no  existence  and  no  essence;  they  are  not,  they  are  nothing. 
Mankind  occurs  as  male  or  female,  as  something  or  nothing.  Woman  has 
no  share  in  ontological  reality,  no  relation  to  the  thing-in-itself,  which  in  the 
deepest  interpretation  is  the  absolute,  is  God.  Man  in  his  highest  form,  the 
genius,  has  such  a  relation,  and  for  him  the  absolute  is  either  the  conception 
of  the  highest  worth  of  existence,  in  which  case  he  is  a  philosopher;  or  it  is 
the  wonderful  fairyland  of  dreams,  the  kingdom  of  absolute  beauty,  and  then 
he  is  an  artist.  Both  views  mean  the  same.  Woman  has  no  relation  to  the 
idea,  she  neither  affirms  nor  denies  it;  she  is  neither  moral  nor  anti-moral; 
mathematically  speaking,  she  has  no  sign;  she  is  purposeless,  neither  good 
nor  bad,  neither  angel  nor  devil,  never  egotistical  (and  therefore  has  often 
been  said  to  be  altruistic)  ;  she  is  as  non-moral  as  she  is  non-logical.  But 
all  existence  is  moral  and  logical  existence.  So  woman  has  no  existence. 
(P.  286.) 

The  woman  of  the  highest  standard  is  immeasurably  beneath  the  man  of 
the  lowest  standard.     (P.  302.) 

I  have  phown  that  logical  and  ethical  phenomena  come  together  in  the 
conception  of  truth  as  the  ultimate  good,  and  posit  the  existence  of  an  intel- 
ligible ego  or  soulj  as  a  form  of  being  of  the  highest  super-empirical  reality. 
In  such  a  being  as  the  absolute  female  there  are  no  logpcal  and  ethical  phe- 
nomena, and,  therefore,  the  ground  for  the  assumption  of  a  soul  is  absent. 
The  absolute  female  knows  neither  the  logical  nor  the  moral  imperative,  and 
the  words  law  and  duty,  duty  toward  herself,  are  word/s  which  are  least 
familiar  to  her.  The  inference  that  she  is  lacking  in  supersensual  personality 
is  fully  justified.     The  absolute  female  has  no  ego.     (P.  186.) 

A  psychological  proof  that  the  power  of  making  judgments  is  a  masculine 
trait  lies  in  the  fact  that  woman  recognizes  it  as  such,  and  that  it  acts  on  her 
as  a  tertiary  sexual  character  of  the  male.    A  woman  always  expects  definite 

843 


844  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

convictions  in  a  man,  and  appropriates  them;  she  has  no  understanding  of 
indecision  in  a  man.  She  always  expects  a  man  to  talk,  and  a  man's  speech 
is  to  her  a  sign  of  his  manliness.  It  is  true  that  woman  has  the  gift  of  speech 
but  she  has  not  the  art  of  talking;  she  converses  (flirts)  or  chatters,  but  she 
does  not  talk.  She  is  most  dangerous,  however,  when  she  is  dumb,  for  men 
are  only  too  inclined  to  take  her  quiescence  for  silence.     (P.  195.) 

The  absolute  female,  then,  is  devoid  not  only  of  the  logical  rules,  but  of 
the  function  of  making  concepts  and  judgments  which  depend  on  them. 
As  the  very  nature  of  the  conceptual  faculty  consists  in  posing  subject  against 
object,  and  as  the  subject  takes  its  fullest  and  deepest  meaning  from  its 
power  of  forming  judgments  on  its  objects^  it  is  clear  that  woman  cannot  be 
recognized  as  possessing  even  the  subject.   (P.  195.) 

I  must  add  to  the  exposition  of  the  non-logical  nature  of  the  female  some 
statements  as  to  her  non-moral  nature.  The  profound  falseness  of  woman, 
the  result  of  the  want  in  her  of  a  permanent  relation  to  the  idea  of  truth  or 
the  idea  of  value,  would  prove  a  subject  of  discussion  so  exhaustive  that  I 
must  go  to  work  another  way.  There  are  such  endless  imitations  of  ethics, 
such  confusing  copies  of  morality,  that  women  are  often  said  to  be  on  a 
moral  plane  higher  than  man.  I  have  already  pointed  out  the  need  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  non-moral  and  immoral,  and  I  now  repeat  that  with 
regard  to  women  we  can  talk  only  of  the  non-mora',  or  the  complete  absence 

of  a  moral  sense I  am  not  arguing  that  woman  is  evil  and  anti-moral ;  I 

state  that  she  cannot  be  really  evil;  she  is  merely  non-moral.     (Pp.  195-97.) 

A  mother  makes  no  difference  in  arranging  a  marriage  for  her  own 
daughter  and  for  any  other  girl,  and  is  just  as  gJad  to  do  it  for  the  latter  if 
it  does  not  interfere  with  the  interests  of  her  own  family;  it  is  the  same 
thing,  match-making  throughout,  and  there  is  no  psychological  difference  in 
making  a  match  for  her  own  daughter  and  doing  the  same  thing  for  a 
stranger.  I  would  even  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  a  mother  is  not  inconsolable 
if  a  stranger,  however  common  and  undesirable,  desires  and  seduces  her 
daughter.    (P.  255.) 

We  may  now  give  with  certainty  a  conclusive  answer  to  the  question  as 
to  the  giftedness  of  the  sexes :  there  are  women  with  undoubted  traits  of 
genius,  but  there  is  no  female  genius,  and  there  never  has  been  one  (not  even 
amongst  the  masculine  women  of  history  which  were  dealt  with  in  the  first 

part)  and  there  never  can  he  one How  could  a  soulles?  being  possess 

genius?  The  possession  of  genius  is  identical  with  profundity;  and  if  anyone 
were  to  try  to  combine  woman  and  profundity  as  subject  and  predicate,  he 
would  be  contradicted  on  all  sides.  A  female  genius  is  a  contradiction  in 
terms,  for  genius  is  simply  intensified,  perfectly  developed,  universally  con- 
scious maleness.     (P.  189.) 

Mr.  Weininger's  serious  and  ambitious  study  is  the  most  remark- 
able jumble  of  insane  babble  and  brilliant  suggestion  that  it  has  been 


BEV/EtVS  845 

my  fortune  to  consider  seriously.  The  author  takes  himself  and  his 
subject  seriously,  and  while  he  is  obviously  prepared  for  his  work 
neither  on  the  psychological,  biological,  nor  yet  the  ethnological  side, 
yet  he  is  almost  prepared  in  all  of  these  fields,  and  brings  to  the 
subject  a  most  astonishing  originality.  There  is  exhibited  the  most 
acute  and  subtle  mental  play  throughout,  but  the  whole  argu- 
ment is  characterized  by  downright  unreasonableness.  The  man 
(he  was  almost  a  boy)  was  a  genius,  a  German  genius,  and  the 
volume  is  remarkable,  not  as  a  contribution  to  science  but  as  a  work 
of  the  imagination,  and  an  exhibition  of  what  fantastic  antics  the 
human  mind  is  capable  of.  The  form  also  is  as  bizarre  as  the  con- 
tent. There  are  parts  so  poor,  obscure,  illogical,  and  stupid  that 
they  would  not  be  accepted  in  a  college  boy's  essay,  and  other  parts 
worthy  of  Kant  or  Schopenhauer. 

We  almost  feel  that  such  a  mind  is  detached  from  its  environment 
and  is  creating  a  world  of  its  own,  but  that  this  is  not  and  cannot  be 
so  is  shown  in  a  most  interesting  manner  by  the  fact  that  in  the 
concrete  illustrations  which  he  uses  to  illustrate  the  traits  of  woman- 
kind in  general  (as  he  thinks)  he  is  really  speaking  always  of  Ger- 
man Gretchen  or  her  mother.  He  falls  into  the  same  error  as  Karl 
Vogt  who  some  years  ago,  in  a  description  of  the  mental  traits  of 
women  students  at  Zurich,  denied  woman  in  general  the  ability  to 
understand  certain  subjects  in  which  American  university  women 
were  already  confessedly  conspicuously  proficient  So  Weininger 
reflects — vaguely,  indeed,  and  fantastically,  as  a  dream  reflects 
reality — the  character  of  the  German  woman.  The  American  wo- 
man, however,  is  quite  a  different  thing,  and  presents  characters  the 
very  opposite  of  what  Weininger  claims  are  and  must  be  the  char- 
acters of  woman  universally  and  in  perpetuity.  It  has  not  even, 
seemingly,  occurred  to  him  that  the  status  of  woman,  as  of  the  lower 
races,  is  in  a  measure  dependent  on  the  run  of  habit  in  her  group 
and  the  limited  range  of  her  attention. 

But  impossible  and  extra-phenomenal  as  the  book  certainly  is,  it 
is  yet  worth  the  while.  Jevons  has  remarked  that  the  greatest 
inventor  is  the  one  whose  mind  is  visited  by  the  largest  number  of 
random  guesses.  Anything  which  brings  more  points  of  view  into 
the  case  is  valuable,  and  this  book  is  rich  in  this  respect  That  no 
one  is  either  completely  male  or  completely  female  is  for  instance, 
a  good  thesis,  and  the  bearing  of  this  view  on  the  phenomena  of 
sexual  inversion  is  very  suggestively  stated  and  argued.    And  two 


846  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

other  of  tlie  writer's  main  propositions  amount  essentially  to  this, 
namely,  that  the  male  is  more  highly  differentiated  than  the  female, 
and  that  the  female  is  more  completely  sexually  saturated  and  her 
interests  more  sexually  limited  than  in  the  case  of  male.  These  are 
probably  truths,  though  not  new  ones,  and  it  would  have  been 
fortunate  if  he  had  substituted  a  simple  and  sane  exposition  of  them 
for  such  extravagant  statements  as  I  have  quoted  above. 

W.  I.  Thomas. 


Some  Ethical  Gains  through  Legislation.    By  Florence  Kelly, 
New  York :    The  Macmillan  Co.,  1905.    Pp.  341. 

The  titles  of  the  chapters  indicate  the  scope  of  the  volume :  the 
right  to  childhood ;  the  child,  the  state,  and  the  nation ;  the  right  to 
leisure ;  judicial  interpretations  of  the  right  to  leisure ;  the  right  of 
women  to  the  ballot;  the  rights  of  purchasers,  and  the  courts.  In 
the  appendix  are  reprinted  several  of  the  most  important  decisions 
bearing  on  the  subjects. 

One  marked  distinction  of  Mrs.  Kelley's  discussions  is  *he  vivid- 
ness of  the  concrete  images  used  to  enforce  the  argument,  and  these 
illustrations  are  not  borrowed  from  books ;  they  come  from  personal 
observations  as  factory  inspector,  special  agent  of  the  Bureau  of 
Statistics  of  Illinois,  resident  of  Hull  House  and  of  the  Nurses' 
Settlement,  New  York,  during  thirteen  years ;  and  secretary  of  the 
National  Consumers'  League  since  1899. 

This  is  a  fine  example  of  the  kind  of  ethical  discussion  which 
really  grips  the  modern  conscience.  That  which  Professor  Small  has 
declared  to  be  the  demand  upon  ethics  is  here  actually  done  for 
certain  definite  problems.  The  exact  situation  is  analyzed  and  the 
significant  facts  are  laid  bare,  and  a  judgment  is  asked  in  view  of 
the  contradiction  between  the  requirements  of  life  and  the  actual 
conditions  and  the  existing  law.  There  is  no  escape  from  the  issue 
save  in  refusal  to  read.  Moral  umbrellas  will  not  shed  this  rain  of 
fire,  and  no  citizen  can  escape ;  all  are  participants  in  the  evil,  and  all 
suffer,  most  of  all  the  innocent. 

One  of  the  author's  indictments  falls  heavily  on  those  forms  of 
philanthropy  which  train  girls  only  to  sew  when  the  needle  trades 
are  already  at  the  bottom  of  the  scale  of  wages,  and  then  send  out 
the  poor  wretches  to  a  labor  market  which  is  packed  to  the  doors 
with  hungry  competitors. 


REVJEIVS  847 

Another  instance  of  cogent  appeal  to  enlightened  conscience  is 
the  analysis  of  the  results  of  a  failure  to  give  legal  redress  in  the 
lawlessness  of  workingmen ;  as  in  Colorado  when  the  legislature 
refused  relief  after  having  sworn  to  give  it  by  accepting  office  under 
the  constitution. 

No  one  has  more  clearly  demonstrated  the  idea  that  the  individual 
is  secure  in  his  rights  only  when  all  are  protected  by  law ;  and  that 
no  citizen  can  perform  his  duty  without  association  of  efforts.  The 
anarchistic  doctrine  that  government  is  a  "necessary  evil"  is  refuted 
by  fact,  and  the  lofty  moral  mission  of  law  is  enforced. 

In  view  of  the  humiliating  and  discouraging  decisions  of  some 
courts  which  set  aside  laws  made  to  meet  contemporary  conditions 
by  appeals  to  precedents  drawn  from  ancient  history,  the  author 
shows  the  necessity  for  introducing  social  science  into  law  schools, 
although  she  does  not  mention  this  solution. 

How  can  courts  be  enlightened  and  instructed  concerning  conditions  as 
they  exist?  This  is  the  burning  question  which  confronts  both  the  purchasers 
and  the  wage-earners  in  all  those  cases  in  which  the  health  of  the  community 
is  affected  in  ways  less  conspicuous  than  epidemic  smallpox.  How  can  the 
gradual,  cumulative  eflfect  of  working  conditions,  and  of  living  conditions, 
upon  the  public  health,  be  made  obvious  to  the  minds  of  the  judges  compos- 
ing the  courts  of  last  resort? 

This  is  the  last  topic  of  the  book,  and  no  answer  is  attempted.  So 
long  as  young  lawyers  are  told  by  the  highest  and  worthiest  of  their 
teachers  that  "the  law  library  is  the  laboratory  of  the  student,"  what 
can  we  expect  afterward?  Every  beneficent  change  in  legislation 
comes  from  a  fresh  study  of  social  conditions  and  of  social  ends,  and 
from  some  rejection  of  obsolete  law  to  make  room  for  a  rule  which 
fits  the  new  facts.  One  can  hardly  escape  from  the  conlusion  that  a 
lawyer  who  has  not  studied  economics  and  sociolc^  is  verj'  apt  to 
become  a  public  enemy ;  and  many  a  good  judge  would  be  hurtful 
if  he  did  not  get  through  newspapers  and  magazines  a  diluted  kind 
of  sociology  which  saves  him  from  bondage  to  mere  precedent.  Re- 
formation does  not  come  from  a  law  library,  which  has  its  useful 
function  in  conservatism ;  it  comes  from  a  complete  mastery  of  the 
real  world,  and  a  moral  judgment  as  to  what  ought  to  be  and  is 
not  yet.  The  "moral  philosophy"  and  "ethics"  of  the  past  genera- 
tion did  something  to  deliver  the  legal  profession  from  bondage  to 
the  letter  of  leather-covered  texts ;  but  those  social  sciences  which  at 
once  interpret  the  meaning,  the  values,  the  forces  of  national  life. 


848  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

and  bring  all  essential  considerations  to  the  help  of  judgment,  and 
reveal  the  concrete  methods  of  action  for  realizing  the  social  ends  in 
largest  measure,  are  already  in  position  to  give  a  lawyer  a  better 
equipment  for  that  profession  which  above  all  others  should  be 
devoted  to  the  right  ordering  of  human  conduct.  Without  this 
study  of  sociology  and  economics  we  may  have  acute  interpreters  of 
legal  phraseology,  shrewd  money-getters,  advisers  of  corporations ; 
but  we  cannot  have  the  best  type  of  leaders  of  social  progress.  The 
legal  profession  has  already  rendered  service  which  we  gladly  recog- 
nize and  honor  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  many  of  its  best-trained  men, 
lacking  the  vision  for  the  principle  that  "new  occasions  teach  new 
duties,"  obstruct  the  way  with  barricades  of  dead  precedents.  Some 
very  disheartening  illustrations  are  given  in  this  book. 

C.  R.  Henderson. 


Egoism:  A  Study  in  the  Social  Premises  of  Religion.  By  Louis 
Wallis.  The  University  of  Chicago  Press.  Pp.  xiv+121. 
$1. 

The  author  of  this  little  book  is  not  a  clergyman,  and  he  has 
never  held  an  academic  position.  The  title  is  not  likely  to  attract 
the  attention  of  those  who  should  be  most  interested  in  the  contents. 
The  argument  plunges  at  once  into  dubious  regions,  and  it  does  not 
guard  itself  by  much  provision  for  conciliating  the  type  of  readers 
to  whom  it  is  addressed.  It  counts  on  getting  a  hearing  as  a  result 
of  shock. 

In  spite  of  these  disadvantages,  the  book  is  well  worth  considera- 
tion, both  by  sociologists  and  by  every  one  who  has  either  historical 
or  religious  interest  in  the  Old  Testament.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is 
an  essay  in  the  use  of  the  Old  Testament  as  a  sociological  "case- 
book" ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  an  attempt  to  account  for  the  religion 
of  Israel  psycho-genetically  rather  than  miraculously.  This  being 
the  case,  it  throws  down  the  gauntlet  at  once  both  to  traditional  inter- 
preters and  to  the  innovating  higher  critics.  To  the  former  it  says, 
"You  do  not  explain  at  all ;"  to  the  latter,  "You  do  not  explain 
enough." 

The  argument  deserves  respectful  attention  both  from  biblical 
scholars  and  from  sociologists.  The  author  has  needlessly  handicap- 
ped himself  by  stating  his  position  in  terms  which  saddle  upon  him 
the  load  of  confusion  between  "egoism"  in  its  psychological  and  its 


REVIEIVS  849 

moral  sense.  It  is  no  more  and  no  less  true  of  religion  than  of  art, 
or  science,  or  government,  or  industry,  that  it  is  "rooted  in  egoism" 
(p.  i).  The  sense  in  which  it  is  true  primarily  of  "all  human  con- 
duct," however,  is  not  the  sense  that  is  ordinarily  contrasted  with 
altruism.  It  is  rather  the  same  sense  in  which  wc  may  say  that  "all 
human  conduct  is  rooted  in  attention."  Attention  is  a  condition  alike 
of  love  and  hate,  of  loyalty  and  treachery,  of  generosity  and  greed. 
So  far,  attention  is  merely  a  psychological  process.  It  is  not  a  mr>nl 
attitude.  When  we  attribute  moral  qualities  to  "attention,"  and  call 
it  "good"  or  "bad,"  it  is  something  very  much  more  complex  than 
the  psychological  activity  that  is  common  to  all  conduct. 

Precisely  the  same  thing  is  true  of  "egoism."  In  the  one  sense 
we  may  say  that  "altruism"  is  rooted  in  "egoism."  We  cannot 
with  equal  truth  say  that  all  "egoism"  is  rooted  in  "altruism." 
"Altruism"  presupposes  one  "egoism" ;  it  abhors  the  other  "egoism." 

In  the  present  state  of  things  the  people  who  ought  to  read  this 
book  are  not  sufficiently  outfitted  with  these  distinctions  to  assume 
them  and  weigh  the  subsequent  argument  without  distraction.  That 
argument  is,  in  substance,  first,  that  the  process  through  which  Israel 
got  its  religious  receptivity  was  simply  an  episcKle  in  the  social  process 
that  goes  on,  earlier  or  later,  wherever  there  are  people.  The  argu- 
ment is  specifically  a  thesis  as  to  the  precise  reaction  of  interests 
which  accounts  for  the  history  of  Israel.  Since  the  author  does  not 
present  himself  with  the  prestige  of  assured  position  among  scholars, 
it  will  be  easy  for  those  who  are  not  interested  in  critical  research 
to  ignore  him.  No  one  who  is  seriously  working  upon  the  history 
of  Israel  can  aflFord  to  treat  his  thesis  contemptuously.  If  he  has 
not  hit  upon  the  ultimate  hypothesis,  he  has  made  it  sufficiently  evi- 
dent that  no  one  else  has,  and  that  the  psycho-sociological  interpre- 
tation of  the  material  is  still  an  open  question. 

We  add  a  brief  notice  of  the  book  from  the  view-point  of  the  Old 
Testament  scholar.  A.  W.  S.mall. 

The  book  is  an  effort  to  illustrate  by  means  of  the  peculiarly 
adequate  data  of  Old  Testament  history  the  author's  thesis  that 
egoism  is  at  the  basis  of  all  human  activity  and  thought.  .A  some- 
what modified  view  of  egoism  is  adopted,  but  of  this  the  editor  him- 
self will  speak.  From  the  present  writer's  point  of  view,  the  position 
seems  to  be  that  Old  Testament  history  presents  a  field  for  the  con- 
stant clash  of  human  interests,  and  that  the  Bible  tells  of  the  survival 


I 


850  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  fittest.    Of  many  paragraphs  that  set  forth  the  idea,  the  fol- 
lowing may  be  selected. 

We  find  it  [the  demand  for  goodness]  in  all  societies  at  all  periods  of 
history.  We  are,  therefore,  assured  at  the  outset  that  the  prophets  of  Israel 
had  no  patent  on  the  cry  for  righteousness.  It  surrounded  them  like  the 
atmosphere.  The  simple  fact  is  that  Israel  was  in  a  situation  that  lent  itself 
historically  to  this  universal  demand  upon  the  others  for  good.  Every  man,  at 
one  time  or  another,  has  a  case  against  somebody;  most  people  have  chronic 
cases  against  the  world ;  and  here,  for  the  first  time  in  history,  a  large  number 
of  men  were  able  to  make  a  plausible  claim  that  God  (Elohim)  was  on  their 
side  against  the  others.  The  prophetic  movement  gave  expression  to  this 
demand.  In  Israel  we  must  recognize  the  universal  as  taking  on  a  particular 
form  which  has  commended  itself  to  future  ages.     (Pp.  97,  98.) 

The  author  presupposes  the  results  of  the  more  progressive  bibli- 
cal science  of  our  time.  For  twenty-five  years  or  so  biblical  theology 
in  America  has  been  in  the  antithetical  saving  of  the  pendulum,  and 
many  of  our  foremost  scholars  have  denied  the  fundamental  pos- 
tulates of  the  older  theology  on  account  of  facts  observed  in  the 
biblical  literature.  The  thesis  from  which  these  scholars  have 
turned  maintained  the  transcendent  operation  of  God  in  the  gift  of 
a  revelation  external  to  the  mind  of  man ;  the  antithesis  is  that  the 
truths  of  the  Bible  have  proceeded  from  the  human  mind  by  purely 
natural  means.  The  latter  has  been  presented  in  our  day  with 
great  power,  and  the  evidence  has  been  collected  with  marvelous 
skill,  so  that  few  theological  circles  remain  in  which  the  so-called 
modern  conclusions  are  not  accepted  either  wholly  or  in  part.  It 
has  been  observed,  however,  by  more  than  one  lover  of  the  Bible 
and  of  men  that  the  new  phases  of  truth  are  not  paralleled  in  the 
church  by  that  careful  attention  and  enthusiastic  interest  which 
alone  can  make  the  new  views  effective  in  the  production  of  char- 
acter. The  people  have  not  assimilated  them.  They  appear  indif- 
ferent to  them.  It  would  seem  that  a  synthesis  of  the  opposing  views 
must  be  made,  before  the  Old  Testament  can  have  vital  interest  for 
men  ;  and  many  scholars  are  endeavoring  to  eflFect  the  synthesis.  At 
last,  a  young  sociologist  arises  from  the  laity  and  declares  that  we 
have  failed  to  notice  the  movements  of  society  in  the  Old  Testament 
times,  that  these  are  well  marked,  and,  when  exposed  to  view,  will 
aid  in  establishing  the  development  of  the  Old  Testament  religion  as 
no  other  discipline  has  done. 

It  must  be  recognized  that  historical  criticism  thus  far  has  done 
little  more  for  the  popular  mind  than  to  demonstrate  facts  in  the 


i 


REVIEWS  851 

biblical  domain  which  must  be  considered  by  all  lovers  of  truth,  and 
that  a  decided  readjustment  of  theology  is  demanded,  although 
critical  scholars  have  talked  for  years  about  the  prophet's  special 
reference  to  the  men  of  his  own  time,  and  his  use  of  language  appli- 
cable to  that  time,  and  they  have  written  valuable  bocJcs  descriptive 
of  the  various  epochs  involved.  It  may  be  that  it  is  reserved  for  pure 
sociology  to  make  real  for  us  the  relation  of  the  social  forces  of  the 
past,  so  that  we  may  understand  and  appreciate  the  human  side  of 
those  innumerable  ideas  that  conditioned  the  growth  of  the  Hebrew 
people  and  the  development  of  their  theolc^.  In  the  hope  that 
this  may  be  so,  the  reviewer  reaches  out  his  hand  to  the  author.  It 
must  be  understood,  of  course,  and  would  be  recognized  by  the 
author,  that  the  theologian  must  have  the  last  word,  just  as  he  has 
had  with  the  evolutionists,  and  he  will  be  glad  to  show  that  all  the 
natural  movements  of  the  ages  are  the  workings  of  spiritual  forces 
called  out  by  the  ultimate  power  in  the  universe,  the  immanent  God, 
of  whom  the  Bible  tells. 

For  the  better  understanding  of  this  book,  the  author's  Examina- 
tion of  Society  (1903),  and  his  Seminary  Studies  in  Old  Testament 
History  (1904),  should  be  read,  as  well  as  his  (unpublished)  Pro- 
znsional  Outline  of  a  Course  in  Biblical  Introduction  to  Sociology. 
,  Charles  Rufus  Brown. 

Newton  Center,  Mass. 


The  Menace  of  Privilege:    A  Study  of  the  Dangers  to  the  Re- 
public from  the  Existence  of  a  Favored  Class.     By  Henry 
George,  Jr.    New  York:    The  Macmillan  Co.,  1905.    Pp. 
ix-}-42i. 
There  are  two  bitter  enemies  in  American  society.    A  war  is  in 
progress  between  them.  They  are  Privilege  anl  Labor.  The  cause  of 
the  contest  is  not  production  of  wealth,  but  its  distribution.     Mr. 
George  investigates  these  enemies  and  their  struggle.  He  studies  first 
the  princes  of  privileges — their  habits  of  life,  amusements,  dissipa- 
tions, marital  relations,  and  aristocratic  tendencies.  Here  is  a  fund  of 
information  about  the  lives  of  our  princes  of  wealth.  The  other  oppo- 
nent is  the  victim  of  privilege ;  he  is  the  laborer.  A  study  is  made  of 
his  physical,   mental,  and   moral   deterioration,   together  with   his 
eflforts  for  defense  in  the  labor  unions.    A  chapter  is  devote<l  to  the 
dangers    of   unionism.      The   wealthy    class    enjoys   extraordinary 
privileges  or  "weapons"  in  the  battle.    Among  these  weapons  arc 


852  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  use  of  the  courts,  government  by  injunction,  the  use  of  the 
federal  army  in  strikes,  corruption  of  state  and  national  politics, 
the  influencing  of  public  opinion  by  purchase  or  intimidation  of  the 
press,  and  by  gifts  to  the  university  and  pulpit.  All  this  is  seen  to 
result  in  a  centralization  of  government  and  a  directing  of  public 
notice  away  from  real  conditions  at  home  to  a  policy  of  foreign 
aggression.  A  parallelism  is  noted  with  preceding  nations  which 
now  are  in  ruin. 

Eight  chapters  are  devoted  to  the  investigation,  and  one  to  the 
remedy.  Coming  from  Mr.  George,  the  remedy  can  be  surmised : 
(i)  stop  taxation  evils  and  immunities  by  taxing  land  monopoly 
to  death,  (2)  take  all  public  highway  functions  into  public  hands. 
Mr.  George's  investigations  are  valuable  in  supplying  a  rich  collec- 
tion of  current  material  on  important  questions.  The  book  is  a 
veritable  mine  of  information.  One  merit  of  his  investigation  is 
concrete  illustrations  of  his  statem.ents  and  definite  references  to  sub- 
stantiate his  arguments.  Particularly  interesting  are  his  discussions 
of  government  by  injunction,  and  gifts  by  the  wealthy  to  the  mis- 
sionary societies,  universities,  and  churches.  He  justly  distinguishes 
between  capital  and  privilege,  recording  the  fact  that  privilege  is 
sometimes  miscalled  capital.  He  nevertheless  fails  to  credit  capital 
sufficiently  for  the  part  it  has  performed  in  our  industrial  advance- 
ment. Another  merit  is  the  absence  of  pessimism.  Nowhere  does 
Mr.  George  lose  faith  in  the  masses,  the  princes  of  privileges,  our 
industrial  order,  or  system  of  government ;  but  he  is  hopeful  for  im- 
provement. 

While  Mr.  George  has  investigated  extensively  and  accurately, 
the  reader  feels  that  he  is  more  than  an  investigator,  he  has  a  solu- 
tion. One  feels  he  has  a  theory  to  prove.  Can  a  man  be  a  successful 
investigator  and  propagandist  at  the  same  time,  without  allowing 
the  investigation  to  be  prejudiced  in  its  bearing?  Most  men  cannot 
perform  both  these  roles  at  the  same  time.  However,  one  chapter 
only  in  the  nine  is  given  to  the  remedy,  and  yet  many  insinuations 
and  suggestions  as  to  the  remedy  are  found  throughout  the  investi- 
gation. His  repeated  references  to  the  early  industrial  conditions  of 
our  country  add  nothing  to  his  argument,  because  the  advancement 
has  been  so  great. 

The  book  is  clear  in  presentation  and  logical  arrangement.  It  is 
a  valuable  contribution  to  the  study  of  our  social  and  industrial 
problems — a  book  of  unusual  merit  and  interest. 

Scott  E.  W.  Bedford. 


REVIEWS  853 

L'assistance  familiale.  Fifteenth  year,   1906.  Redacteur-en-chcf, 
Dr.  a.  Marie,  Medecin  de  I'Asile  de  Villegrief  (Seine). 

This  magazine  deserves  special  attention  as  the  org^n  of  the 
movement  in  favor  of  family  care  of  the  insane  which  has  recently 
made  progress  in  Belgium,  France,  Scotland,  and  to  some  extent  in 
the  United  States.  Dr.  Marie  holds  that  a  human  being,  even  if  in 
ill-health,  feels  more  at  home  in  a  family  than  in  a  large  congregate 
institution ;  and  he  carries  this  principle  into  various  fields.  The 
homeless  child  should  be  placed  in  an  adopted  home ;  the  sick  should 
be  cared  for  in  their  own  homes,  if  possible ;  the  delinquent  youth  is 
helped  best  in  a  family  group;  the  aged  dependents  should  be  in 
cottages,  rather  than  in  huge  barracks ;  the  tuberailous  patients 
should  not  be  assembled  in  vast  buildings. 

The  magazine  publishes  articles  relating  to  the  care  of  the  insane 
and  kindred  topics  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  To  the  student  of 
charitable  relief  the  volumes  furnish  valuable  materials. 

C  R.H. 


Les  classes  pauvres.  Par  Alfredo  Niceforo.  Paris:  V. 
Giard  et  E.  Briere,  1905.  Pp.  344. 
The  basis  of  this  work  is  a  study  of  3,147  boys  and  girls  of 
various  social  classes  in  Lausanne.  These  school  children  were 
classified  by  sex  and  age,  and  examined  to  discover  their  physical 
differences  in  respect  to  height,  weight,  chest,  respiration,  streng^th, 
resistance  to  fatigue,  capacity  of  skull,  anomalies  of  face  and  physi- 
ognomy. From  this  personal  study  the  author  advances  to  the  evi- 
dence collected  by  many  investigators  in  many  countries.  His  con- 
clusion is  that  the  poorer  members  of  society  are  inferior  to  those 
in  comfortable  circumstances  both  physically  and  psychically.  The 
method  resembles  that  employed  by  Lombroso  and  his  followers  in 
the  study  of  the  traits  of  criminals.  The  causes  of  inferiority  arc 
sought  in  the  physical  conditions  of  habitations,  workshop,  and  the 
lack  of  suitable  nutrition.  The  author  does  not  discuss  methods  of 
amelioration.  The  most  distinct  contribution  is  the  study  of  the 
Lausanne  children,  but  the  materials  gathered  from  other  sources 

are  skilfully  arranged. 

C  R.H. 


RECENT  LITERATURE 


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NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS 


The  Field  for  the  American  Society  of  Municipal  ImproTement. —  It  U 

true,  as  the  president  states  in  his  paper  on  the  American  Society  of  Municipal 
Improvement,  that  this  society  has  a  right  to  exist  because  it  is  doing  a  work  for 
municipal  engineering  which  no  other  society  attempts  to  do ;  but  it  has  a 
greater  right  in  that  it  is  doing  equally  good  work  for  other  technical  depart- 
ments of  the  city  government,  which  is  not  done  by  any  other  society.  There  are 
many  members  of  the  society  who  would  not  wish  to  see  its  field  restricted  to  that 
of  municipal  engineering,  and  the  best  interests  of  all  the  members,  as  well  as  of 
society  at  large,  demand  that  the  field  of  the  society  be  as  broad  as  its  name,  and 
that  it  cover  al  kinds  of  municipal  improvements. 

There  has  been  in  the  past  a  very  salutary  effort  to  restrict  the  number  of 
questions  to  be  discussed  at  convention  to  those  practical  problems  actually  covered 
by  the  title,  leaving  theoretical  and  political  questions  to  other  associations ;  and 
this  restriction  has  greatly  aided  in  strengthening  and  enlarging  the  society.  It 
seems,  however,  that  this  selection  has  proceeded  far  enough,  and  that  the  society 
should  in  the  future,  as  it  has  in  the  past,  serve  al  the  various  departments  repre- 
sented in  its  membership,  and  offer  inducements  in  the  way  of  fact  and  discussion 
for  workers  in  all  these  departments  in  the  cities  of  the  continent  to  become 
members. —  Editorial  in  Municipal  Engineering,  October,  1905.  H.  W. 

American  Society  of  Municipal  Improvements. —  Eleven  years  ago  the 
American  Society  of  Municipal  Improvements  was  organized  in  Buffalo  with  sixty 
members.  Its  good  work  has  continued,  and  the  society  has  maintained  a  high 
reputation  for  earnest  endeavor,  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  it  will  continue  to 
deserve. 

If  there  is  a  certain  area  in  the  field  of  municipal  advancement  which  is  pecu- 
liarly our  own  —  and  I  firmly  believe  there  is  —  then  our  best  work  will  result 
from  a  study  of  its  nature  and  confining  our  energies  within  its  boundaries. 

As  stated  by  our  constitution,  the  object  of  this  society  is  "  to  disseminate 
information  and  experience  upon,  and  to  promote  the  best  methods  to  be  employed 
in,  the  management  of  municipal  departments  and  in  the  construction  of  muni- 
cipal works."  The  National  Municipal  League  is  largely  composed  of  citizens  as 
such  only,  who  consider  "  politcal,  administrative,  and  educational  phases  of  the 
municipal  problem."  In  the  League  of  American  Municipalities  are  gathered  the 
mayors  and  other  officials  of  our  cities  to  study  "  all  questions  pertaining  to 
municipal  administration."  The  purpose  oif  the  American  Civic  Association  is 
"  the  cultivation  of  higher  ideals  of  civic  life  and  beauty  in  America." 

The  first  two  consider  chiefly  municipal  administration  as  a  whole  and  the 
methods  of  co-ordinating  various  municipal  departments,  but  in  only  a  minor  degree 
the  details  of  the  management  of  individual  departments ;  while  this  last  would 
seem  to  be  explicitly  stated  as  one  of  the  objects  of  this  society,  and  one  worthy 
of  our  earnest  consideration. 

At  first  thought,  it  might  seem  that  the  field  of  engineering  was  already  more 
than  covered  by  existing  societies.  An  examination  of  the  work  done  by  these. 
however,  will  show  that  this  is  not  the  case.  The  municipal  engineers  of  Greater 
New  York  have  recently  formed  a  society  which  has  a  most  promising  future,  but 
its  membership  is  limited  to  that  corporation.  There  is  a  place,  then,  for  a  society 
which  will  do  for  all  the  other  and  smaller  cities  of  the  country  what  this  last 
society  does  for  New  York.  One  division  of  municipal  engineering,  •amely. 
water  supply,  is  cared  for  by  several  societies,  notably  the  American  Water  Works 
Association  and  the  New  England  Water  Works  Association.  But  street-paTioc 
cleaning  and  general  maintenance,  refuse  collection  and  disposal,  sewerage  and 

8S7 


858 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


sanitation,  except  as  the  latter  is  treated  from  the  physicians'  point  of  view  by  the 
American  Public  Health  Association,  and  many  other  avenues  for  municipal 
improvement,  await  the  assistance  of  this  society  in  their  development. 

The  above  considerations  might  give  the  impression  that  there  is  left  for  us 
only  details  of  administration  and  construction ;  but  such  is  far  from  being  the 
case.  We  may  treat  as  experts  of  the  broad  subject  of  the  relative  values  of 
various  utilities  to  a  modern  city  which  are  essential,  and  which  nonessential,  to  its 
most  profitable  growth.  We  shall  be  doing  a  better  work  in  persuading  a  city  to 
adopt  proper  sanitary  garbage-disposal  than  in  designing  the  details  of  its  plant. 
To  demonstrate  and  convince  of  the  sanitary  superiority  and  greater  economy  of  a 
sewerage  system  over  cesspools  is  as  important  as  to  build  the  system. 

To  a  certain  extent  it  is  a  weakness,  but  to  a  much  greater  extent  should  it  be 
a  strength,  that  our  membership  is  not  composed  of  one  class  only  of  officials,  but 
that  mayors,  aldermen,  engineers,  and  street  and  other  superintendents  all  meet 
here  to  exchange  ideas  and  learn  each  other's  point  of  view,  and  our  discussions 
should  be,  and  to  a  large  extent  are,  demonstrations  of  the  value  of  this. —  A.  P. 
Folwell,  Municipal  Engineering,  October,  1905.  H.  W. 

The  Municipalization  of  Street  Railways  in  Rome. —  The  tramway  com- 
pany ought  to  be  paying  400,000  lire  to  the  municipality  instead  of  the  290,000  lire 
which  it  is  now  paying.  [A  lira  is  100  centesimi,  equivalent  to  ca.  $0.20.]  The 
tramways  are,  however,  more  than  a  source  of  income ;   they  are  a  public  necessity. 

The  Societa  Romana  dei  Tramways-Omnibus  points  out  that  its  stocks  are 
quoted  very  low,  and  that  the  company  is  losing  money.  Such  statements  show 
the  intention  of  the  company  not  to  share  its  gains  with  the  municipality,  and 
justify  the  proposition  often  made  to  municipalize  this  service.  Judging  by  the 
statements  of  the  officers  of  the  company,  it  would  seem  that  the  stockholders 
ought  to  welcome  municipalization  ;  instead  of  which,  they  are  its  bitterest  oppon- 
ents. This  fact  itself  naturally  tends  to  increase  the  number  of  those  who  favor 
municipal  ownership. 

It  may  be  well,  considering  the  question  on  its  own  merits,  apart  from  the 
statements  made  by  the  company,  to  compare  conditions  in  Rome  with  those  in 
Milan,  where  the  street  railways  are  semi-municipalized.  In  Milan  the  municipality 
owns  and  maintains  the  roadbed,  having  absolute  jurisdiction  of  the  lines,  with 
power  to  extend  them  or  discontinue  the  use  of  them  at  will.  The  Societa  Edison, 
the  operating  company,  provides  the  service,  namely :  the  erection  and  mainten- 
ance of  the  wires,  the  generation  and  distribution  of  power,  the  acquisition  and 
maintenance  of  rolling-stock,  and  the  employing  of  the  operating  force. 

The  gross  earnings  are  divided  between  the  municipality,  as  owner  of  the  lines, 
and  the  operating  company.  The  municipality  received  (i)  4,500  lire  per  kilometer 
of  single  track  —  to  meet  the  cost  of  construction,  including  interest  and  amor- 
tization, and  maintenance  of  the  track  —  and  (2)  a  fixed  sum  of  125,000  lire  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  streets  in  which  street-railway  lines  are  operated.  The  Edison 
Company  recives  a  payment  to  cover  the  cost  of  operation  calculated  on  a  basis 
of  26.38  centesimi  per  car-kilometer,  divided  as  follows :  traction  expenses  (power, 
etc.),  15.13  cent.;  maintenance,  1.17  cent.;  maintenance  of  rolling-stock,  2.65 
cent.:  general  expenses,  3.12  cent.;  amortization  (i.  e.,  sinking  fund,  or  other 
means  of  retiring  the  debt),  4.31  cent.  The  surplus  is  divided,  60  per  cent,  going 
to  the  municipality  and  40  per  cent,  to  the  operating  company.  In  1903  Milan 
received,  according  to  this  arrangement,  1,390,000  lire,  a  sum  equal  to  20  per  cent, 
of  the  gross  receipts. 

The  tramway  company  of  Rome,  on  the  other  hand,  pays  to  the  municipality 
only  9.6  per  cent,  of  its  gross  earnings,  although  its  receipts  average  68  centesimi 
per  car-kilometer,  as  against  44-03  cent,  in  Milan.  It  is  evident  that  the  street- 
railway  service  of  Rome  could  be  more  productive,  and  that  —  whatever  the  stock- 
holders of  the  company  may  say  —  the  share  of  the  municipality  in  the  net  profits 
could  be  greater. 

We  do  not  believe,  however,  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  municipalize  the 
service  in  order  to  attain  this  result.     If  we  follow  the  example  of  Milan  and 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  859 

inaugurate  a  similar  relationship  between  the  municipality  and  the  ttrect-railway 
company,  then  the  municipality  of  Rome  should  also  receive  20  per  cent,  of  the 
gross  receipts. 

It  is  frequently  repeated  that  the  fares  are  higher  in  Rome  than  in  any  other 
Italian  city  ;  that  the  number  of  cars  is  insufficient  for  the  needs  of  the  people,  who 
are  often  kept  waiting  at  the  stopping-places,  and  not  infrequently  are  left  tUnding 
there ;  and  that  the  cars  themselves  are  not  properly  cared  for,  and  are  not  suited 
to  the  needs  of  the  capital  city. 

Today  the  street-railway  service,  especially  in  large  cities,  is  a  public  service. 
in  the  real  sense  of  the  term  ;  and  since  we  should  insist  on  excluding  from  this 
category  those  functions  which  frequently  are  mistakenly  included,  so  we  should 
likewise  insist  on  the  most  careful  oversight  by  the  municipality  in  those  cases  in 
which,  as  in  the  present  one,  the  character  of  a  public  service  is  plainly  recog- 
nizable. The  council  ought  to  provide  for  the  functioning  of  the  tramway  service 
in  such  way  as  to  make  it  serve  the  needs  of  the  citizens.  For  this  result  no  con- 
trol would  be  too  strict. 

However,  as  we  have  already  said,  it  is  not  at  all  necessary,  in  order  to 
accomplish  this  purpose,  to  municipalize  the  service.  Municipal  ownership  would 
not  be  certainly  harmful,  but  it  could  permit  the  continuance  of  the  inconveniences 
which  we  now  suffer,  unless  the  administration  holds  by  the  firm  intention  of 
attaining,  at  all  costs,  the  public  welfare. 

Without  municipalizing  the  service,  a  new  form  of  control  could  be  introduced ; 
such,  for  example,  as  the  issue  of  tickets  to  the  street-railway  company  by  the 
municipality,  as  is  done  in  Milan.  We  ought,  also,  to  develop  the  suburbs,  extend- 
ing the  lines  to  the  city  limits  (le  barriere  daziarie),  and  reducing  the  fares  dur- 
ing the  morning  and  evening  hours  for  the  accommodation  of  workingmen. 

Conditions  can  be  secured  without  upsetting  present  arrangements  with  the 
company.  To  maintain  that  municipal  ownership  is  the  only  means  of  effecting  an 
improvement  is  to  interfere  with  a  condition  of  affairs  that  can  be  bettered  with 
the  greatest  facility.  For  there  are  contracts  with  the  street-railway  company 
which  are  to  conserve  the  interests  of  the  citizens,  and  it  is  the  duty  of  the  muni- 
cipal government  to  enforce  them  ;  or,  if  there  are  no  such  contracts,  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  municipality  to  insist  upon  the  company's  making  them. 

Semi-municipalization,  under  such  conditions  as  are  found  in  Milan,  would 
yield  to  the  municipality  the  sum  of  611,600  lire;  whereas  complete  municipal 
ownership  would  yield  20,470  lire  more.  Without  claiming  absolute  exactness  in 
these  figures,  it  is,  nevertheless,  evident  that  a  municipalized  tramway  service 
would  yield  to  the  municipality  a  very  slightly  greater  profit  than  would  a  semi- 
municipalized  service  patterned  after  that  of  Milan. 

It  seems  evident  from  this  discussion  that,  financially  speaking,  the  advan- 
tages of  an  eventual  municipalization  —  granting  that  there  are  advantages  —  are 
not  great  enough  to  make  immediate  municipal  ownership  an  indispensable  neces- 
sity. Before  such  action  it  is  possible  to  try  other  expedients  which/  will,  in  the 
meantime,  serve  to  show  the  exact  eamipg  power  of  the  street  railways  —  and 
which,  nevertheless,  will  not  prevent  subsequent  municipalization  at  any  time  that 
it  may  appear  advisable.  Such  an  experiment  as  semi-municipalization  [i.  e.,  muni- 
cipal ownership,  but  not  municipal  operation,  as  in  Milan],  or  else  municipal 
regulation,  as  advocated  in  this  paper,  would  not,  by  any  means,  be  lacking  in 
instructive  value. —  Luigi  Nina,  "  La  municipalizzazione  del  servizio  tramviario 
nella  Capitale,"  Giornale  degli  Economisti,  September,  1905.  H.  W. 

The  Ethics  of  Corporal  Punishment.— For  an  exposure  of  the  futility  of 
"  flogging "  the  reader  is  referred  to  Mr.  CoUinson's  pamphlet  Facts  About 
Flogging.  The  theme  of  this  article  is  the  immorality  of  flogging  as  a  means  of 
punishing  offenders. 

What  explains  the  intense  dislike  of  this  practice,  which  in  some  quarter*^  i* 
still  lauded  ?  It  is  degrading  to  those  who  administer  it  and  to  those  who  receive 
it.  It  is  the  substance  of  personal  tyranny.  The  ethical  objection  is  that  rach 
punishment  is  supreme  negation  of  free  thinking  —  the  symbol  of  the  sUTery  of 


86o  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  mind.     In  spite  of  this  and  a  recognition  of  its  cruelty,  why  is  the  practice 
approved  and  advocated  by  so  many  healthy-minded  people  ? 

It  is  explained  by  the  fact  of  the  prevalence  of  flogging  in  the  schools.  If  a 
well-educated  man's  sons  are  flogged  at  Eton,  it  is  no  disgrace  to  the  lower  order 
to  be  birched  by  a  policeman  or  a  schoolmaster.  Corporal  punishment  in  the 
English  schools  is  responsible  for  this  servile  and  tyrannical  tone  of  mind  which 
applauds  flogging  because  they  and  their  children  are  hardened  to  its  practice  in 
the  schools.  It  is  a  discipline.  In  this  matter  the  instinct  of  the  English  working 
classes  regarding  corporal  punishment  as  a  disgrace  is  truer  and  less  morbid  than 
those  "  hardened  "  to  it  in  the  schools,  i.  e.,  their  so-called  superiors.  The  punish- 
ment of  the  young  seems  to  be  the  clue  to  an  understanding  of  the  ethics'  of  cor- 
poral punishment  as  a  whole.  Yet  it  is  unpleasant  to  record  an  increase  in  the 
past  few  years  of  the  practice  of  flogging  the  young.  For  example,  the  National 
Society  for  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Children  promoted  a  bill  in  iqoo  (fortunately 
defeated)  for  the  wholesale  whipping  of  juvenile  offenders  at  the  discretion  of  the 
magistrate. 

Turning  to  adult  offenders,  we  find  the  same  cry;  for  the  infliction  of  bodily 
pain  on  hooligans,  wife-beaters,  dynamiters,  train-wreckers,  ill-users  of  children 
and  animals.  Some  English  judges  have  of  late  shown  a  tendency  to  prescribe 
the  prison  birch  to  "  rogues  and  vagabonds  "  under  the  infamous  vagrancy  acts 
once  obsolete.  The  argument  favoring  such  procedure,  that  these  scoundrels  can- 
not be  disgraced,  because  already  degraded  in  crime,  is  false ;  any  living  being,  no 
matter  how  low,  is  not  beyond  human  sympathy  and  aid. 

The  arguments  against  the  brutality  of  the  lash  are  futile  and  amusing :  one 
of  the  silliest  being  more  concerned  in  protecting  the  criminal  than  the  victim  of 
the  crime.  The  most  plausible  sophism  in  favor  of  corporal  punishment  is  con- 
trasting the  evils  of  imprisonment  with  the  pretended  beneficence  of  the  lash.  One 
thing  can  be  said  in  favor  of  flogging :  it  "  saves  time."  Like  all  short-cuts. 
"  more  haste,  less  speed." 

To  conclude:  Corporal  punishment,  the  antithesis  of  moral  suasion,  is  an 
outrage  on  the  supremacy  of  the  human  mind  and  dignity  of  the  human  body. 
All  physical  violence  cannot  be  dispensed  with,  but  this  the  most  barbarous  must 
be  uprooted. —  Henry  S.  Salt,  in  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  October,  igos. 

S.  E.  W.  B. 

Development  of  Labor  Organizations  in  the  United  States.  —  The  earliest 
labor  classes  brought  their  forms  from  England,  and  the  first  distinctions  were 
social,  as  between  gentlemen  and  goodmen,  or  rich  and  poor.  In  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century  the  wage  question  was  first  raised,  but  rather  as  a  political 
than  an  economic  one.  After  the  War  of  Independence  these  organizations  broke 
loose  from  the  mother  country,  and  in  1806  the  tailors  formed  a  separate  union, 
followed  by  the  hatters  and  others. 

The  years  1825-61  bring  to  the  front  labor  agitation.  Questions  of  wage  and 
length  of  day  were  prominent,  but  the  significance  of  organization  as  a  means  of 
leading  contending  classes  to  a  better  understanding  of  each  other  was  not 
recognized.  The  movements  of  this  period  were  under  high-minded  leaders, 
such  as  Owen,  Brisbane,  Dana,  and  Greeley ;  but  they  formed  rather  a  politico- 
ethical  sect  than  a  party.  In  1848  a  great  flood  of  immigrants  of  socialistic 
and  revolutionary  tendencies,  stimulated  class  consciousness.  Certain  popular 
movements  in  England  also  found  sympathy  here.  Mystical  orders,  such  as 
"Knights  of  Labor,"  took  rise.  The  air  was  charged  with  the  spirit  of  Henry 
George  and  Bellamy,  and  the  Congress  of  1850  at  Chicago  raised  the  labor 
reaction  to  a  triumphant  place. 

The  first  organized  labor  group  which  in  the  third  decade  of  last  century 
demanded  shorter  hours  and  higher  wage  was  the  builders,  especially  ship- 
builders, who  after  vain  attempts  to  lead  their  employers  to  an  open  discussion 
of  the  question  whether  a  ten-hour  day  would  be  a  benefit,  instituted  a  strike. 
In  Boston  employers  organized  to  withstand  the  laborers  and  agreed  not  to 
employ  organized  labor.  The  boycott  was  recognized  as  a  legitimate  means 
of  struggle.     Labor  continued  to  organize  more  highly  and  compactly.     By   1853 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  861 

almost  all  skilled  labor  trades  had  obtained  at  least  the  eleven-hour  day,  and 
shipbuilders  the  eight-hour  day,  and  some  success  had  been  reached  in  the 
organization  of  the  unskilled  and   of  women. 

The  special  feature  of  the  period  1861-86  was  the  rapid  growth  of  the  half- 
mystical,  half-practical  orders.  Knights  of  Labor  reached  a  membership  of 
700,000.  They  were  followed  by  Daughters  of  the  Knights  of  Labor,  who  made 
political  demands,  such  as  referendum,  weekly  wage,  and  shorter  hours.  In 
this  period  between  thirty  and  forty  national  unions  arose.  The  socialistic 
spirit  broadened  out,  but  did  not  fully  comprehend  itself.  In  the  last  twentf 
years  economic  development  has  been  great,  through  the  application  of 
machinery.  Labor  has  specialized.  No  labor  party  has  been  successfully 
organized,  but  laborers  have  perfected  economic  organizations,  and  have  defined 
and  clearly  set  forth  their  problem.  The  real  conflict  now  is  between  the  unions 
and  the  non-unionist,  just  as  the  capitalist  has  to  fight  the  underseller  and  the 
price-cutter.  There  are  at  lea.st  two  and  one-half  millions  of  laborers  in  116 
national  and  international  (Canada  and  Mexico)  unions,  made  up  of  27,000 
local  unions  ;  there  are  also  33  state  organizations.  The  unit  of  representation 
in  the  annual  congress  is  the  local  union.  The  Federation  attempts  to  influence 
politics  and  legislation.  There  is,  in  spite  of  the  spirit  of  individualism,  large 
co-operation  in  the  Federation.  The  leaders  have  the  confidence  of  the  member- 
ship and  yet  suspicion  of  personal  or  political  ends  is  never  entirely  absent. 

Relations  of  the  unions  to  employers  are  varied.  The  trusts  and  the  labor 
leaders  are  not  unconditioned  opponents  of  each  other.  Only  menacing  forms  of 
monopoly  and  financial  encroachment  are  openly  opposed.  The  small  trusts 
are  much  more  opposed  to  labor  organizations  than  the  larger.  The  contention 
between  the  two  classes  is  less  one  of  principle  than  of  expediency.  Sometimes 
by  joint  agreement  the  laborers  and  capitalists  have  been  able  to  combine 
against  the  consumer,  and  this  they  have  not  been  slow  to  do. 

Arbitration  is  fast  gaining  ground,  and  strikes  are  becoming  rarer,  due  to 
the  great  expense  involved  in  them  as  well  to  the  better  control  of  the  local 
unions  by  the  Federation.  In  twenty-two  states  there  are  arbitration  officers  or 
boards,   provided   for  by  the  state. 

The  two  questions  of  importance  to  the  unions  are  wage  and  kind  of  labor. 
They  are  not  a  unit  on  the  question  of  piece-work ;  some  favor,  some  oppose. 
On  the  whole,  there  is  a  disinclination  to  the  akkord  pay,  because  the  employer 
has  a  tendency  to  make  the  ability  of  the  best  worker  the  basis  of  wage.  Among 
piece-workers  there  is  opposition  to  the  extra-high  wage ;  many  local  unioiu 
punish  those  who  labor  over  the  time  set  by  the  union ;  others  have  rules  limit- 
ing the  quantity  of  product  for  a  day's  work. 

The  eight-hour  day  has  been  gained  by  coal-miners  and  most  builders' 
groups.  In  most  other  groups  the  day  is  still  ten  hours,  and  in  some  cases  more. 
Applicants  for  membership  to  the  unions  must  have  followed  their  trade  a 
certain  length  of  time,  varying  from  two  to  five  years.  Apprentices  are  limited 
to  a  certain  proportion  of  the  membership  of  the  union,  ranging  from  i  :5  to 
I  :i5.     Others  limit  yearly  recruits  to  the  demand  for  labor. 

The  unions  recognize  that  their  largest  problem  is  relation  to  the  unor- 
ganized and  assimilation  of  the  immigrant.  This  first  problem  is  especially 
acute  in  times  of  strike.  Thus  they  try  to  get  all  laborers  to  join  some  union. 
so  that  they  will  not  steal  their  jobs.  The  struggle  for  the  closed  shop  is  the 
peculiar  task  of  the  unions  at  the  present  time. 

Naturally  the  unions  are  in  favor  of  restriction  of  immigration.  Leopold 
von  Wiese,  "Skizze  der  Entwickelung  der  Arbeiterorganirationen  in  den 
Vereinigten  Staaten  von  America,"  Jahrbuch  fur  Gesetsgebung,  Vcrtvaltumg  umd 
Volks-wirtschaft  im  Deutschen  Reich.  ^-  ^   »• 

Hygiene  of  Lodging-Houscs.  — The  hygiene  of  workingmen's  families  is  a 
social  problem.  That  governments  can,  if  they  wish,  enact  hygiene  laws  is  shown 
by  England.  In  spite  of  inherent  conditions  favoring  it.  they  have  been  able 
to  reduce  tuberculosis  in  the  last  thirty  years.     No  laws  of  health  will  reach  the 


862  THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

case  when  the  lodgings  are  unsanitary.  The  poor  must  live,  and  that  in  places 
that  are  open  to  them.  The  hygiene  of  the  working  families  is  necessary  ;  the 
future  depends  on  it.  For  the  normal  development  of  family  life,  for  the  rear- 
ing of  children  without  weaknesses,  for  the  prevention  of  tuberculosis,  the 
lodging-houses  must  be  sanitary.  Those  who  most  need  protection  by  health 
laws  are  not  able,  on  account  of  scanty  wage,  to  pay  the  rent  necessary  to 
secure  the  better  houses. 

A  proper  co-operation  of  those  interested  could  overcome  the  difficulties, 
as  follows :  first,  by  recognizing  their  real  duty  toward  the  poor ;  second,  by 
the  investment,  on  the  part  of  public-spirited  citizens,  in  well-located  and 
scientifically  constructed  lodging-houses,  of  capital  which  will  pay  clear  interest 
at  the  rate  of  254-3  per  cent.,  instead  of  41/2-5  per  cent. ;  third,  by  the  proper 
equipment  of  the  tenement-houses.  Some  requirements  are:  (a)  washable 
walls  and  ceilings,  good  painting,  water-tight  floors,  and  plenty  of  wash  water ; 
(b)  large  windows  for  light  and  air;  (c)  plenty  of  water  on  all  floors;  (d)  a 
cellar  for  provisions,  wash-houses,  and  drying-rooms. — L.  Chaptal.  "L'Hygiene 
du  logement  et  les  petits  budgets  ouvriers,"  Re  forme  sociale,  November  i,   1905. 


The  "Office  central  des  oeuvres  de  bienfaisance,"  of  France,  has  made 
an  investigation  of  the  home  conditions  of  the  indigent  population  of  Paris. 
Out  of  2,636  homes  visited,  2,327,  or  88.3  per  cent.,  were  classed  as  "bad ;" 
245,  or  9.3  per  cent.,  as  "mediocre ;"  and  only  64,  or  2.4  per  cent.,  as  "good." 
After  making  a  study  of  such  conditions,  the  investigators  came  to  the  following 
conclusions :  There  are  two  sorts  of  causes :  those  inherent  in  the  dwellings, 
and  those  found  in  the  tenants.  Among  the  former  are  small  rooms  with  low 
ceilings,  providing  a  volume  of  air  less  than  14  cubic  meters  per  individual, 
humidity,  darkness,  insufficient  supply  of  water,  and  improper  disposition  of 
refuse.  Seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the  lodgments  violated  these  tenement  require- 
ments. Unsanitary  conditions  furnished  by  the  tenants  are  four :  overpopula- 
tion, poor  provisions  for  sleeping  apartments,  care  of  rooms,  and  drying  of 
linen  in  the  living-rooms.  At  least  75  per  cent,  of  the  places  visited  violated 
the  requirements  along  this  line. 

The  commission  propose  three  ways  to  aid  in  the  remedy :  ( i )  more 
rigorous  application  of  sanitary  legislation  ;  (2) cheaper  rents  and  more  modern 
lodging-houses ;  and  (3)  popularization  of  elementary  and  fundamental  laws  of 
hygiene. — G.  Durangle,  "Une  enquete  sur  I'insalubrite  des  logements  d'indi- 
gents,"  Re  forme  sociale,  October  16,  1905.  D.  E.  T. 

America  and  the  Americans. — Here  are  some  impressions  from  late 
books  dealing  with  above  subject.  M.  Jules  Huret,  in  his  book  In  America, 
finds  much  to  criticise,  but  also  much  to  admire.  He  confesses  to  a  sort  of 
terror,  inspired  by  the  prodigious  activity  of  Americans.  Other  traits  are  their 
incredible  power  of  absorption  and  organization,  their  astonishing  confidence  in 
themselves,  and  the  abundance  of  life  among  all  classes,  rich  and  poor.  He  has 
also  very  interesting  chapters  on  American  edi^cation,  the  negro  problem,  the 
great  West,  especially  its  cities,  the  common  schools,  hospitals,  settlements,  and 
the  large  snd  well-organized  charitable  societies.  He  finds  in  New  Orleans  repre- 
sentatives of  the  old  French  families. 

Frazer,  an  Englishman,  in  America  at  Work,  finds  one  of  our  chief  causes 
of  success  in  our  remarkable  organization  of  work.  He  saw  not  a  single  idle 
workingman  in  the  course  of  all  his  travels.  The  young  mechanics  were 
seeking  entrance  into  Carnegie's  shops,  even  though  entrance  conditions  were 
hard,  for  they  knew  that  he  pays  his  intelligent  and  ingenious  workmen  well, 
and  if  they  could  only  distinguish  themselves,  their  future  ,would  be  secure. 
He  was  surprised  at  the  wonderful  development  of  machinery  and  the  use  of 
electricity,  the  great  demand  for  technical  education,  the  intelligence  and  apti- 
tude  of   American   youth   in   mechanics,   and   the   organization   of   transportation. 

Abb6   Klein,   in   Au   pays   de   la   vie   intense,   was   also    impressed   with   the 


NOTES  AND  ABSTRACTS  863 

energy  and  the  desire  for  progress  among  Americans,  but  he  itudied  principally 
social  and  religious  conditions.  He  says  the  state  is  frankly  Christian  in  tint 
it  considers  the  ideas  of  the  gospel  to  be  both  the  expression  and  the  guarantee  of 
civilization  itself.  The  Americans,  if  they  are  "utilitarian,"  recognize  and 
proclaim  the  social  merits  of  religion,  and  assert  that  civilization  rests  essentially 
on  the  general  contributions  of  Christianity,  which  is  held  to  be  a  source  of 
national  prosperity.  In  this  belief  and  teaching  the  President  is  a  leader. 
Abbe  Klein  is  also  pleased  with  the  large  tolerance  existing  between  Christians 
of  diverse  confessions.  Catholics  and  Protestants  work  side  by  side  in  philan- 
thropic   undertakings,    emphasizing   their   unity    and    forgetting    their   differences. 

In  his  little  volume  Price  Collier  notices  the  strenuosity  of  America,  but 
views  it  from  its  more  unfavorable  side,  remarking  its  harmful  influences  on  the 
political,  social,  moral,  and  religious  life,  and  its  tendency  to  retard  esthetic 
development.  The  American  does  not  cease  his  wild  scramble  for  gold  when 
he  has  become  materially  independent,  but  continues  to  absorb  himself  in 
professional  and  commercial  engagements ;  he  does  not  wish  to  be  found  with 
spare  time  on  his  hands,  and  does  not  take  recreation,  even  when  it  is 
easily  available.  Responsibility  on  the  part  of  the  rich  and  powerful  is  not 
developed,  and,  in  spite  of  democratic  appearances,  Collier  has  not  found 
among  any  other  people  in  the  world  the  barrier  between  rich  and  poor,  master 
and  servant,  the  man  who  works  with  his  hands  and  the  one  who  does  not,  so 
rudely  marked. 

Andrew  Carnegie's  book.  Democracy  Triumphant,  brings  to  light  much  that 
is  of  interest  from  the  years  1830-50;  but  on  the  whole,  he  is  too  enthusiastic. 
too  excessively  patriotic.  He  insists  on  the  education  of  the  masses,  and 
shows  how  the  United  States  has  in  this  regard  greatly  excelled  the  world. 
Social  and  religious  progress  has  been  as  great ;  also  in  national  homogeneity  we 
excel,  for  we  have  already  a  common  literature,  common  interests,  and  a 
common  patriotism.  In  the  same  optimistic  strain  he  follows  out  America's 
material  progress. 

M.  Anadoli  has  returned  from  America  with  the  conviction  that  it  will  play 
an  ever-increasing  role  in  the  destinies  of  the  world.  He  entitles  his  book 
The  Empire  of  Affairs.  The  secret  of  superiority  in  American  institutions  is 
the  fact  that  the  two  currents  which  traverse  every  political  edifice  here  per- 
fectly balance  each  other.  These  are  the  spirit  of  conservatism  and  liberalism, 
order  and  liberty,  authority  and  the  individual.  He  believes  that  the  centraliz- 
ing influences  are  so  strong  that  no  centrifugal  forces  will  be  sufficient  to 
overcome  them  and  cause  division.  Imperialism  seems  to  be  the  most  menacing 
danger. —  George  Blondel,  "L'Amerique  et  les  Americains  d'apr^  de  nouveatix 
ouvrages,"  R6fortne  sociale,  November  i,   1905.  D.  E.  T. 

The  Problem  of  Poverty. — Two  classes  of  persons  give  time  and  thought  to 
the  poor  problem :  those  of  the  leisured  class  who  give,  but  do  not  know  the  real 
conditions ;  then  those  who  have  thrown  themselves  into  the  midst  of  the  fight. 
Corresponding  to  these  two  classes  are  two  diverse  ways  of  looking  at  the  same 
thing:  those  who  think  all  the  problems  can  be  reduced  to  a  law  and  are  content 
to  solve  the  problem  by  a  general  reference  to  the  law ;  and,  secondly,  those 
discovering  by  the  actual  contact  with  the  problem  that  the  law  is  not  adequate. 

In  turn,  these  elements  enter  to  explain  and  complicate  the  problem.  The 
"reign  of  economic  law,"  environment,  heredity,  education — all  are  stock  words : 
yet  the  problem  defies  solution.  What  is  the  rock  upon  which  so  many  good 
vessels  have  made  a  shipwreck?  The  answer  is:  human  character.  This  is 
the  unknown  quantity  in  every  problem.  We  take  the  following  steps,  bat  seem 
to  make  no  advance:  (i)  the  idea  of  invariableness  and  universality  of  law; 
(2)  we  abandon  all  idea  of  law:  (3)  freedom  within  limits.  Heredity,  environ- 
ment, etc.,  are  forces,  without  which  man  could  not  advance  at  all,  and  yet  he 
holds  his  destiny  in  his  own  hands. 

The  failure  of  the  economic  law  may  teach  us  a  lesson.     The  state  cannot 


864 


THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


by  law  grive  work  to  provide  for  the  improvident.  However,  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
state  to  give  relief,  and  that  well  planned,  to  the  epileptic,  the  blind,  and  mentally 
afflicted  who  swell  the  ranks  of  the  suffering  poor.  Germany  sets  the  example 
in  this  respect. 

If  those  who  constantly  encourage  the  poor  to  look  to*  the  state  to  remedy 
social  conditions  would  frankly  recognize  that  the  question  is  far  more  moral 
than  either  political  or  economic,  they  would  save  much  disappointment.  Let 
them  preach  reformation  from  within,  rather  than  assistance  from  without. — C. 
Baumgarten,  in  Economic  Review,  October,  1905.  S.  E.  W.  B. 

Dangerous  Trades. — The  International  Conference  on  Dangerous  Trades  this 
year,  at  Berne,  where  a  plan  for  protective  legislation  for  all  workers  in  dan- 
gerous trades  was  brought  within  the  range  of  practical  politics,  suggests  this 
paper.  There  are  two  kinds  of  industrial  dangers:  (i)  risk  of  accident;  (2)  peril, 
because  of  unwholesome  conditions,  involving  use  of  poisonous  materials. 

Take  the  first  class.  The  annual  tale  of  industrial  accidents  is  appalling. 
The  willingness  of  the  manufacturer  to  accept  official  counsel  is  an  encourage- 
ment. The  number  of  accidents  would  be  reduced  by  three  remedies :  ( i )  pro- 
viding dangerous  machinery  with  effective  guards ;  (2)  maintaining  proper 
fencing  about  the  machinery ;  (3)  limiting  the  hours  of  labor.  Age  is  an 
element  in  reckoning  the  number  of  accidents ;  young  girls  and  children  are 
allowed  to  manipulate  dangerous  machinery.  Risk  of  accident  is  the  chief  peril 
in  bottling  of  beer  and  aerated  waters.  This  can  be  remedied  by  wearing  of 
masks  and  guards  ;  but  employers  are  not  always  careful  in  noting  breaches  of 
these  special  rules. 

Passing  to  the  second  class,  trades  less  visibly  perilous,  we  find  occupations 
inducing  or  predisposing  to  disease,  undermining  health,  and  thus  affecting  the 
future  of  the  race.  Pre-eminent  are  the  "dusty"  trades ;  e.  g.,  miners,  lead- 
workers,  chimney-sweeps,  etc.  The  remedy  for  reducing  disease  and  death  is 
special  rules,  intelligently  and  conscientiously  put  into  practice.  Witness  the 
nearly  complete  victory  over  necrosis  in  match-making  factories ;  the  lessening 
number  of  cases  of  plumbism  among  workers  in  lead.  Rules  for  protection  is 
not  enough ;  we  must  seek  ways  to  render  the  trades  harmless.  Let  science 
eliminate  the  injurious  materials  used  in  manufacture.  France  is  showing 
England  the  way  in  this  respect.  Of  course,  the  special  rules  are  limited  by 
conditions.  The  faithful  observance  of  every  rule  in  a  set  is  necessary  if  the 
set  achieve  a  purpose. 

Besides  these  dangerous  trades,  there  are  also  trades — e.  g.,  the  hatters 
trade,  vulcanizing  of  india  rubber ;  lifting  excessive  weights,  and  extreme 
specialization — which  expose  to  infection  by  anthrax  spores.  Steaming  is 
the  remedy. 

In  conclusion,  two  reflections :  First,  where  regulation  of  dangerous  trades 
is  attempted,  the  regulations  should  be  real.  The  second  points  to  an  extension 
of  legislation  also.  Ought  not  sufferers  of  diseases  from  occupation  to  be 
eligible  for  compensation?  But  more  important  than  compensation  is  preserva- 
tion. Let  science  make  wholesome  the  hitherto  injurious  occupations. — Constance 
Smith,  in  Economic  Review,  October,   1905.  S.  E.  W.   B. 

The  Unemployed. — In  dealing  with  the  problem  of  the  unemployed  advances 
should  be  made  along  the  following  lines:  (i)  Restore  the  land  to  its  proper 
vise  by  a  constructive  policy  of  home  colonization ;  (2)  attempt  to  solve  the 
problem  of  the  physical  deterioration  of  town  children,  by  better  safeguarding  the 
life  of  the  child  both  before  and  after  birth,  by  medical  examination  on  entering 
school,  and  supervision  throughout  school  life,  and  by  feeding  the  necessitous 
school  children ;  (3)  raise  the  minimum  age  of  employment,  abolish  child 
vagrancy,  continue  compulsory  education  by  evening  classes  till  the  age  of  six- 
teen or  seventeen ;  (4)  a  more  equitable  system  of  taxation  and  rating ;  (s) 
reduction  of  the  hours  of  labor;  (6)  the  discouragement  of  the  breeding  of  the 
unfit ;  (7)  the  diminution  of  the  temptations  to  drunkenness  and  betting. — G.  P. 
Gouch,  in  Contemporary  Review,  March,  1906.  S.  E.  W.  B. 


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